Abstract
Aristotle’s most influential ethical treatise: every action aims at some good, and the Supreme Good for man is eudaimonia, activity of the soul in accordance with virtue. It develops the doctrine of virtue as a mean between excess and deficiency, and the role of phronesis, practical wisdom, in deliberating well.
Traduzione di D. P. Chase · Project Gutenberg #8438 (D. P. Chase translation, 1847), 1847 · pubblico dominio
ARISTOTLE’S ETHICS
Every art, and every science reduced to a teachable form, and in like
manner every action and moral choice, aims, it is thought, at some
good: for which reason a common and by no means a bad description of
the Chief Good is, “that which all things aim at.”
Now there plainly is a difference in the Ends proposed: for in some
cases they are acts of working, and in others certain works or tangible
results beyond and beside the acts of working: and where there are
certain Ends beyond and beside the actions, the works are in their
nature better than the acts of working. Again, since actions and arts
and sciences are many, the Ends likewise come to be many: of the
healing art, for instance, health; of the ship-building art, a vessel;
of the military art, victory; and of domestic management, wealth; are
respectively the Ends.
And whatever of such actions, arts, or sciences range under some one
faculty (as under that of horsemanship the art of making bridles, and
all that are connected with the manufacture of horse-furniture in
general; this itself again, and every action connected with war, under
the military art; and in the same way others under others), in all
such, the Ends of the master-arts are more choice-worthy than those
ranging under them, because it is with a view to the former that the
latter are pursued.
(And in this comparison it makes no difference whether the acts of
working are themselves the Ends of the actions, or something further
beside them, as is the case in the arts and sciences we have been just
speaking of.)
Since then of all things which may be done there is some one End which
we desire for its own sake, and with a view to which we desire
everything else; and since we do not choose in all instances with a
further End in view (for then men would go on without limit, and so the
desire would be unsatisfied and fruitless), this plainly must be the
Chief Good, i.e. the best thing of all.
Surely then, even with reference to actual life and conduct, the
knowledge of it must have great weight; and like archers, with a mark
in view, we shall be more likely to hit upon what is right: and if so,
we ought to try to describe, in outline at least, what it is and of
which of the sciences and faculties it is the End.
Now one would naturally suppose it to be the End of that which is most
commanding and most inclusive: and to this description, πολιτικὴ
plainly answers: for this it is that determines which of the sciences
should be in the communities, and which kind individuals are to learn,
and what degree of proficiency is to be required. Again; we see also
ranging under this the most highly esteemed faculties, such as the art
military, and that of domestic management, and Rhetoric. Well then,
since this uses all the other practical sciences, and moreover lays
down rules as to what men are to do, and from what to abstain, the End
of this must include the Ends of the rest, and so must be The Good of
Man. And grant that this is the same to the individual and to the
community, yet surely that of the latter is plainly greater and more
perfect to discover and preserve: for to do this even for a single
individual were a matter for contentment; but to do it for a whole
nation, and for communities generally, were more noble and godlike.
Such then are the objects proposed by our treatise, which is of the
nature of πολιτικὴ: and I conceive I shall have spoken on them
satisfactorily, if they be made as distinctly clear as the nature of
the subject-matter will admit: for exactness must not be looked for in
all discussions alike, any more than in all works of handicraft. Now
the notions of nobleness and justice, with the examination of which
πολιτικὴ is concerned, admit of variation and error to such a degree,
that they are supposed by some to exist conventionally only, and not in
the nature of things: but then, again, the things which are allowed to
be goods admit of a similar error, because harm comes to many from
them: for before now some have perished through wealth, and others
through valour.
We must be content then, in speaking of such things and from such data,
to set forth the truth roughly and in outline; in other words, since we
are speaking of general matter and from general data, to draw also
conclusions merely general. And in the same spirit should each person
receive what we say: for the man of education will seek exactness so
far in each subject as the nature of the thing admits, it being plainly
much the same absurdity to put up with a mathematician who tries to
persuade instead of proving, and to demand strict demonstrative
reasoning of a Rhetorician.
Now each man judges well what he knows, and of these things he is a
good judge: on each particular matter then he is a good judge who has
been instructed in it, and in a general way the man of general mental
cultivation.
Hence the young man is not a fit student of Moral Philosophy, for he
has no experience in the actions of life, while all that is said
presupposes and is concerned with these: and in the next place, since
he is apt to follow the impulses of his passions, he will hear as
though he heard not, and to no profit, the end in view being practice
and not mere knowledge.
And I draw no distinction between young in years, and youthful in
temper and disposition: the defect to which I allude being no direct
result of the time, but of living at the beck and call of passion, and
following each object as it rises. For to them that are such the
knowledge comes to be unprofitable, as to those of imperfect
self-control: but, to those who form their desires and act in
accordance with reason, to have knowledge on these points must be very
profitable.
Let thus much suffice by way of preface on these three points, the
student, the spirit in which our observations should be received, and
the object which we propose.
And now, resuming the statement with which we commenced, since all
knowledge and moral choice grasps at good of some kind or another, what
good is that which we say πολιτικὴ aims at? or, in other words, what is
the highest of all the goods which are the objects of action?
So far as name goes, there is a pretty general agreement: for HAPPINESS
both the multitude and the refined few call it, and “living well” and
“doing well” they conceive to be the same with “being happy;” but about
the Nature of this Happiness, men dispute, and the multitude do not in
their account of it agree with the wise. For some say it is some one of
those things which are palpable and apparent, as pleasure or wealth or
honour; in fact, some one thing, some another; nay, oftentimes the same
man gives a different account of it; for when ill, he calls it health;
when poor, wealth: and conscious of their own ignorance, men admire
those who talk grandly and above their comprehension. Some again held
it to be something by itself, other than and beside these many good
things, which is in fact to all these the cause of their being good.
Now to sift all the opinions would be perhaps rather a fruitless task;
so it shall suffice to sift those which are most generally current, or
are thought to have some reason in them.
And here we must not forget the difference between reasoning from
principles, and reasoning to principles: for with good cause did Plato
too doubt about this, and enquire whether the right road is from
principles or to principles, just as in the racecourse from the judges
to the further end, or vice versâ.
Of course, we must begin with what is known; but then this is of two
kinds, what we do know, and what we may know: perhaps then as
individuals we must begin with what we do know. Hence the necessity
that he should have been well trained in habits, who is to study, with
any tolerable chance of profit, the principles of nobleness and justice
and moral philosophy generally. For a principle is a matter of fact,
and if the fact is sufficiently clear to a man there will be no need in
addition of the reason for the fact. And he that has been thus trained
either has principles already, or can receive them easily: as for him
who neither has nor can receive them, let him hear his sentence from
Hesiod:
He is best of all who of himself conceiveth all things;
Good again is he too who can adopt a good suggestion;
But whoso neither of himself conceiveth nor hearing from another
Layeth it to heart;—he is a useless man.
But to return from this digression.
Now of the Chief Good (i.e. of Happiness) men seem to form their
notions from the different modes of life, as we might naturally expect:
the many and most low conceive it to be pleasure, and hence they are
content with the life of sensual enjoyment. For there are three lines
of life which stand out prominently to view: that just mentioned, and
the life in society, and, thirdly, the life of contemplation.
Now the many are plainly quite slavish, choosing a life like that of
brute animals: yet they obtain some consideration, because many of the
great share the tastes of Sardanapalus. The refined and active again
conceive it to be honour: for this may be said to be the end of the
life in society: yet it is plainly too superficial for the object of
our search, because it is thought to rest with those who pay rather
than with him who receives it, whereas the Chief Good we feel
instinctively must be something which is our own, and not easily to be
taken from us.
And besides, men seem to pursue honour, that they may believe
themselves to be good: for instance, they seek to be honoured by the
wise, and by those among whom they are known, and for virtue: clearly
then, in the opinion at least of these men, virtue is higher than
honour. In truth, one would be much more inclined to think this to be
the end of the life in society; yet this itself is plainly not
sufficiently final: for it is conceived possible, that a man possessed
of virtue might sleep or be inactive all through his life, or, as a
third case, suffer the greatest evils and misfortunes: and the man who
should live thus no one would call happy, except for mere disputation’s
sake.
And for these let thus much suffice, for they have been treated of at
sufficient length in my Encyclia.
A third line of life is that of contemplation, concerning which we
shall make our examination in the following pages.
As for the life of money-making, it is one of constraint, and wealth
manifestly is not the good we are seeking, because it is for use, that
is, for the sake of something further: and hence one would rather
conceive the forementioned ends to be the right ones, for men rest
content with them for their own sakes. Yet, clearly, they are not the
objects of our search either, though many words have been wasted on
them. So much then for these.
Again, the notion of one Universal Good (the same, that is, in all
things), it is better perhaps we should examine, and discuss the
meaning of it, though such an enquiry is unpleasant, because they are
friends of ours who have introduced these εἴδη. Still perhaps it
may appear better, nay to be our duty where the safety of the truth is
concerned, to upset if need be even our own theories, specially as we
are lovers of wisdom: for since both are dear to us, we are bound to
prefer the truth. Now they who invented this doctrine of εἴδη, did not
apply it to those things in which they spoke of priority and
posteriority, and so they never made any ἰδέα of numbers; but good is
predicated in the categories of Substance, Quality, and Relation; now
that which exists of itself, i.e. Substance, is prior in the nature of
things to that which is relative, because this latter is an off-shoot,
as it were, and result of that which is; on their own principle then
there cannot be a common ἰδέα in the case of these.
In the next place, since good is predicated in as many ways as there
are modes of existence [for it is predicated in the category of
Substance, as God, Intellect—and in that of Quality, as The Virtues—and
in that of Quantity, as The Mean—and in that of Relation, as The
Useful—and in that of Time, as Opportunity—and in that of Place, as
Abode; and other such like things], it manifestly cannot be something
common and universal and one in all: else it would not have been
predicated in all the categories, but in one only.
Thirdly, since those things which range under one ἰδέα are also under
the cognisance of one science, there would have been, on their theory,
only one science taking cognisance of all goods collectively: but in
fact there are many even for those which range under one category: for
instance, of Opportunity or Seasonableness (which I have before
mentioned as being in the category of Time), the science is, in war,
generalship; in disease, medical science; and of the Mean (which I
quoted before as being in the category of Quantity), in food, the
medical science; and in labour or exercise, the gymnastic science. A
person might fairly doubt also what in the world they mean by very-this
that or the other, since, as they would themselves allow, the account
of the humanity is one and the same in the very-Man, and in any
individual Man: for so far as the individual and the very-Man are both
Man, they will not differ at all: and if so, then very-good and any
particular good will not differ, in so far as both are good. Nor will
it do to say, that the eternity of the very-good makes it to be more
good; for what has lasted white ever so long, is no whiter than what
lasts but for a day.
No. The Pythagoreans do seem to give a more credible account of the
matter, who place “One” among the goods in their double list of goods
and bads: which philosophers, in fact, Speusippus seems to have
followed.
But of these matters let us speak at some other time. Now there is
plainly a loophole to object to what has been advanced, on the plea
that the theory I have attacked is not by its advocates applied to all
good: but those goods only are spoken of as being under one ἰδέα, which
are pursued, and with which men rest content simply for their own
sakes: whereas those things which have a tendency to produce or
preserve them in any way, or to hinder their contraries, are called
good because of these other goods, and after another fashion. It is
manifest then that the goods may be so called in two senses, the one
class for their own sakes, the other because of these.
Very well then, let us separate the independent goods from the
instrumental, and see whether they are spoken of as under one ἰδέα.
But the question next arises, what kind of goods are we to call
independent? All such as are pursued even when separated from other
goods, as, for instance, being wise, seeing, and certain pleasures and
honours (for these, though we do pursue them with some further end in
view, one would still place among the independent goods)? or does it
come in fact to this, that we can call nothing independent good except
the ἰδέα, and so the concrete of it will be nought?
If, on the other hand, these are independent goods, then we shall
require that the account of the goodness be the same clearly in all,
just as that of the whiteness is in snow and white lead. But how stands
the fact? Why of honour and wisdom and pleasure the accounts are
distinct and different in so far as they are good. The Chief Good then
is not something common, and after one ἰδέα.
But then, how does the name come to be common (for it is not seemingly
a case of fortuitous equivocation)? Are different individual things
called good by virtue of being from one source, or all conducing to one
end, or rather by way of analogy, for that intellect is to the soul as
sight to the body, and so on? However, perhaps we ought to leave these
questions now, for an accurate investigation of them is more properly
the business of a different philosophy. And likewise respecting the
ἰδέα: for even if there is some one good predicated in common of all
things that are good, or separable and capable of existing
independently, manifestly it cannot be the object of human action or
attainable by Man; but we are in search now of something that is
so.
It may readily occur to any one, that it would be better to attain a
knowledge of it with a view to such concrete goods as are attainable
and practical, because, with this as a kind of model in our hands, we
shall the better know what things are good for us individually, and
when we know them, we shall attain them.
Some plausibility, it is true, this argument possesses, but it is
contradicted by the facts of the Arts and Sciences; for all these,
though aiming at some good, and seeking that which is deficient, yet
pretermit the knowledge of it: now it is not exactly probable that all
artisans without exception should be ignorant of so great a help as
this would be, and not even look after it; neither is it easy to see
wherein a weaver or a carpenter will be profited in respect of his
craft by knowing the very-good, or how a man will be the more apt to
effect cures or to command an army for having seen the ἰδέα itself. For
manifestly it is not health after this general and abstract fashion
which is the subject of the physician’s investigation, but the health
of Man, or rather perhaps of this or that man; for he has to heal
individuals.—Thus much on these points.
And now let us revert to the Good of which we are in search: what can
it be? for manifestly it is different in different actions and arts:
for it is different in the healing art and in the art military, and
similarly in the rest. What then is the Chief Good in each? Is it not
“that for the sake of which the other things are done?” and this in the
healing art is health, and in the art military victory, and in that of
house-building a house, and in any other thing something else; in
short, in every action and moral choice the End, because in all cases
men do everything else with a view to this. So that if there is some
one End of all things which are and may be done, this must be the Good
proposed by doing, or if more than one, then these.
Thus our discussion after some traversing about has come to the same
point which we reached before. And this we must try yet more to clear
up.
Now since the ends are plainly many, and of these we choose some with a
view to others (wealth, for instance, musical instruments, and, in
general, all instruments), it is clear that all are not final: but the
Chief Good is manifestly something final; and so, if there is some one
only which is final, this must be the object of our search: but if
several, then the most final of them will be it.
Now that which is an object of pursuit in itself we call more final
than that which is so with a view to something else; that again which
is never an object of choice with a view to something else than those
which are so both in themselves and with a view to this ulterior
object: and so by the term “absolutely final,” we denote that which is
an object of choice always in itself, and never with a view to any
other.
And of this nature Happiness is mostly thought to be, for this we
choose always for its own sake, and never with a view to anything
further: whereas honour, pleasure, intellect, in fact every excellence
we choose for their own sakes, it is true (because we would choose each
of these even if no result were to follow), but we choose them also
with a view to happiness, conceiving that through their instrumentality
we shall be happy: but no man chooses happiness with a view to them,
nor in fact with a view to any other thing whatsoever.
The same result is seen to follow also from the notion of
self-sufficiency, a quality thought to belong to the final good. Now by
sufficient for Self, we mean not for a single individual living a
solitary life, but for his parents also and children and wife, and, in
general, friends and countrymen; for man is by nature adapted to a
social existence. But of these, of course, some limit must be fixed:
for if one extends it to parents and descendants and friends’ friends,
there is no end to it. This point, however, must be left for future
investigation: for the present we define that to be self-sufficient
“which taken alone makes life choice-worthy, and to be in want of
nothing;” now of such kind we think Happiness to be: and further, to be
most choice-worthy of all things; not being reckoned with any other
thing, for if it were so reckoned, it is plain we must then allow
it, with the addition of ever so small a good, to be more choice-worthy
than it was before: because what is put to it becomes an addition of so
much more good, and of goods the greater is ever the more
choice-worthy.
So then Happiness is manifestly something final and self-sufficient,
being the end of all things which are and may be done.
But, it may be, to call Happiness the Chief Good is a mere truism, and
what is wanted is some clearer account of its real nature. Now this
object may be easily attained, when we have discovered what is the work
of man; for as in the case of flute-player, statuary, or artisan of any
kind, or, more generally, all who have any work or course of action,
their Chief Good and Excellence is thought to reside in their work, so
it would seem to be with man, if there is any work belonging to him.
Are we then to suppose, that while carpenter and cobbler have certain
works and courses of action, Man as Man has none, but is left by Nature
without a work? or would not one rather hold, that as eye, hand, and
foot, and generally each of his members, has manifestly some special
work; so too the whole Man, as distinct from all these, has some work
of his own?
What then can this be? not mere life, because that plainly is shared
with him even by vegetables, and we want what is peculiar to him. We
must separate off then the life of mere nourishment and growth, and
next will come the life of sensation: but this again manifestly is
common to horses, oxen, and every animal. There remains then a kind of
life of the Rational Nature apt to act: and of this Nature there are
two parts denominated Rational, the one as being obedient to Reason,
the other as having and exerting it. Again, as this life is also spoken
of in two ways, we must take that which is in the way of actual
working, because this is thought to be most properly entitled to the
name. If then the work of Man is a working of the soul in accordance
with reason, or at least not independently of reason, and we say that
the work of any given subject, and of that subject good of its kind,
are the same in kind (as, for instance, of a harp-player and a good
harp-player, and so on in every case, adding to the work eminence in
the way of excellence; I mean, the work of a harp-player is to play the
harp, and of a good harp-player to play it well); if, I say, this is
so, and we assume the work of Man to be life of a certain kind, that is
to say a working of the soul, and actions with reason, and of a good
man to do these things well and nobly, and in fact everything is
finished off well in the way of the excellence which peculiarly belongs
to it: if all this is so, then the Good of Man comes to be “a working
of the Soul in the way of Excellence,” or, if Excellence admits of
degrees, in the way of the best and most perfect Excellence.
And we must add, ἐν βίῳ τελείῳ; for as it is not one swallow or one
fine day that makes a spring, so it is not one day or a short time that
makes a man blessed and happy.
Let this then be taken for a rough sketch of the Chief Good: since it
is probably the right way to give first the outline, and fill it in
afterwards. And it would seem that any man may improve and connect what
is good in the sketch, and that time is a good discoverer and
co-operator in such matters: it is thus in fact that all improvements
in the various arts have been brought about, for any man may fill up a
deficiency.
You must remember also what has been already stated, and not seek for
exactness in all matters alike, but in each according to the
subject-matter, and so far as properly belongs to the system. The
carpenter and geometrician, for instance, enquire into the right line
in different fashion: the former so far as he wants it for his work,
the latter enquires into its nature and properties, because he is
concerned with the truth.
So then should one do in other matters, that the incidental matters may
not exceed the direct ones.
And again, you must not demand the reason either in all things
alike, because in some it is sufficient that the fact has been well
demonstrated, which is the case with first principles; and the fact is
the first step, i.e. starting-point or principle.
And of these first principles some are obtained by induction, some by
perception, some by a course of habituation, others in other
different ways. And we must try to trace up each in their own nature,
and take pains to secure their being well defined, because they have
great influence on what follows: it is thought, I mean, that the
starting-point or principle is more than half the whole matter, and
that many of the points of enquiry come simultaneously into view
thereby.
We must now enquire concerning Happiness, not only from our conclusion
and the data on which our reasoning proceeds, but likewise from what is
commonly said about it: because with what is true all things which
really are are in harmony, but with that which is false the true very
soon jars.
Now there is a common division of goods into three classes; one being
called external, the other two those of the soul and body respectively,
and those belonging to the soul we call most properly and specially
good. Well, in our definition we assume that the actions and workings
of the soul constitute Happiness, and these of course belong to the
soul. And so our account is a good one, at least according to this
opinion, which is of ancient date, and accepted by those who profess
philosophy. Rightly too are certain actions and workings said to be the
end, for thus it is brought into the number of the goods of the soul
instead of the external. Agreeing also with our definition is the
common notion, that the happy man lives well and does well, for it has
been stated by us to be pretty much a kind of living well and doing
well.
And further, the points required in Happiness are found in combination
in our account of it.
For some think it is virtue, others practical wisdom, others a kind of
scientific philosophy; others that it is these, or else some one of
them, in combination with pleasure, or at least not independently of
it; while others again take in external prosperity.
Of these opinions, some rest on the authority of numbers or antiquity,
others on that of few, and those men of note: and it is not likely that
either of these classes should be wrong in all points, but be right at
least in some one, or even in most.
Now with those who assert it to be Virtue (Excellence), or some kind of
Virtue, our account agrees: for working in the way of Excellence surely
belongs to Excellence.
And there is perhaps no unimportant difference between conceiving of
the Chief Good as in possession or as in use, in other words, as a mere
state or as a working. For the state or habit may possibly exist in
a subject without effecting any good, as, for instance, in him who is
asleep, or in any other way inactive; but the working cannot so, for it
will of necessity act, and act well. And as at the Olympic games it is
not the finest and strongest men who are crowned, but they who enter
the lists, for out of these the prize-men are selected; so too in life,
of the honourable and the good, it is they who act who rightly win the
prizes.
Their life too is in itself pleasant: for the feeling of pleasure is a
mental sensation, and that is to each pleasant of which he is said to
be fond: a horse, for instance, to him who is fond of horses, and a
sight to him who is fond of sights: and so in like manner just acts to
him who is fond of justice, and more generally the things in accordance
with virtue to him who is fond of virtue. Now in the case of the
multitude of men the things which they individually esteem pleasant
clash, because they are not such by nature, whereas to the lovers of
nobleness those things are pleasant which are such by nature: but the
actions in accordance with virtue are of this kind, so that they are
pleasant both to the individuals and also in themselves.
So then their life has no need of pleasure as a kind of additional
appendage, but involves pleasure in itself. For, besides what I have
just mentioned, a man is not a good man at all who feels no pleasure in
noble actions, just as no one would call that man just who does not
feel pleasure in acting justly, or liberal who does not in liberal
actions, and similarly in the case of the other virtues which might be
enumerated: and if this be so, then the actions in accordance with
virtue must be in themselves pleasurable. Then again they are certainly
good and noble, and each of these in the highest degree; if we are to
take as right the judgment of the good man, for he judges as we have
said.
Thus then Happiness is most excellent, most noble, and most pleasant,
and these attributes are not separated as in the well-known Delian
inscription—
“Most noble is that which is most just, but best is health;
And naturally most pleasant is the obtaining one’s desires.”
For all these co-exist in the best acts of working: and we say that
Happiness is these, or one, that is, the best of them.
Still it is quite plain that it does require the addition of
external goods, as we have said: because without appliances it is
impossible, or at all events not easy, to do noble actions: for
friends, money, and political influence are in a manner instruments
whereby many things are done: some things there are again a deficiency
in which mars blessedness; good birth, for instance, or fine offspring,
or even personal beauty: for he is not at all capable of Happiness who
is very ugly, or is ill-born, or solitary and childless; and still less
perhaps supposing him to have very bad children or friends, or to have
lost good ones by death. As we have said already, the addition of
prosperity of this kind does seem necessary to complete the idea of
Happiness; hence some rank good fortune, and others virtue, with
Happiness.
And hence too a question is raised, whether it is a thing that can be
learned, or acquired by habituation or discipline of some other kind,
or whether it comes in the way of divine dispensation, or even in the
way of chance.
Now to be sure, if anything else is a gift of the Gods to men, it is
probable that Happiness is a gift of theirs too, and specially because
of all human goods it is the highest. But this, it may be, is a
question belonging more properly to an investigation different from
ours: and it is quite clear, that on the supposition of its not
being sent from the Gods direct, but coming to us by reason of virtue
and learning of a certain kind, or discipline, it is yet one of the
most Godlike things; because the prize and End of virtue is manifestly
somewhat most excellent, nay divine and blessed.
It will also on this supposition be widely participated, for it may
through learning and diligence of a certain kind exist in all who have
not been maimed for virtue.
And if it is better we should be happy thus than as a result of chance,
this is in itself an argument that the case is so; because those things
which are in the way of nature, and in like manner of art, and of every
cause, and specially the best cause, are by nature in the best way
possible: to leave them to chance what is greatest and most noble would
be very much out of harmony with all these facts.
The question may be determined also by a reference to our definition of
Happiness, that it is a working of the soul in the way of excellence or
virtue of a certain kind: and of the other goods, some we must have to
begin with, and those which are co-operative and useful are given by
nature as instruments.
These considerations will harmonise also with what we said at the
commencement: for we assumed the End of πολιτικὴ to be most excellent:
now this bestows most care on making the members of the community of a
certain character; good that is and apt to do what is honourable.
With good reason then neither ox nor horse nor any other brute animal
do we call happy, for none of them can partake in such working: and for
this same reason a child is not happy either, because by reason of his
tender age he cannot yet perform such actions: if the term is applied,
it is by way of anticipation.
For to constitute Happiness, there must be, as we have said, complete
virtue and a complete life: for many changes and chances of all kinds
arise during a life, and he who is most prosperous may become involved
in great misfortunes in his old age, as in the heroic poems the tale is
told of Priam: but the man who has experienced such fortune and died in
wretchedness, no man calls happy.
Are we then to call no man happy while he lives, and, as Solon would
have us, look to the end? And again, if we are to maintain this
position, is a man then happy when he is dead? or is not this a
complete absurdity, specially in us who say Happiness is a working of a
certain kind?
If on the other hand we do not assert that the dead man is happy, and
Solon does not mean this, but only that one would then be safe in
pronouncing a man happy, as being thenceforward out of the reach of
evils and misfortunes, this too admits of some dispute, since it is
thought that the dead has somewhat both of good and evil (if, as we
must allow, a man may have when alive but not aware of the
circumstances), as honour and dishonour, and good and bad fortune of
children and descendants generally.
Nor is this view again without its difficulties: for, after a man has
lived in blessedness to old age and died accordingly, many changes may
befall him in right of his descendants; some of them may be good and
obtain positions in life accordant to their merits, others again quite
the contrary: it is plain too that the descendants may at different
intervals or grades stand in all manner of relations to the
ancestors. Absurd indeed would be the position that even the dead
man is to change about with them and become at one time happy and at
another miserable. Absurd however it is on the other hand that the
affairs of the descendants should in no degree and during no time
affect the ancestors.
But we must revert to the point first raised, since the present
question will be easily determined from that.
If then we are to look to the end and then pronounce the man blessed,
not as being so but as having been so at some previous time, surely it
is absurd that when he is happy the truth is not to be asserted of
him, because we are unwilling to pronounce the living happy by reason
of their liability to changes, and because, whereas we have conceived
of happiness as something stable and no way easily changeable, the fact
is that good and bad fortune are constantly circling about the same
people: for it is quite plain, that if we are to depend upon the
fortunes of men, we shall often have to call the same man happy, and a
little while after miserable, thus representing our happy man,
“Chameleon-like, and based on rottenness.”
Is not this the solution? that to make our sentence dependent on the
changes of fortune, is no way right: for not in them stands the well,
or the ill, but though human life needs these as accessories (which we
have allowed already), the workings in the way of virtue are what
determine Happiness, and the contrary the contrary.
And, by the way, the question which has been here discussed, testifies
incidentally to the truth of our account of Happiness. For to
nothing does a stability of human results attach so much as it does to
the workings in the way of virtue, since these are held to be more
abiding even than the sciences: and of these last again the most
precious are the most abiding, because the blessed live in them most
and most continuously, which seems to be the reason why they are not
forgotten. So then this stability which is sought will be in the happy
man, and he will be such through life, since always, or most of all, he
will be doing and contemplating the things which are in the way of
virtue: and the various chances of life he will bear most nobly, and at
all times and in all ways harmoniously, since he is the truly good man,
or in the terms of our proverb “a faultless cube.”
And whereas the incidents of chance are many, and differ in greatness
and smallness, the small pieces of good or ill fortune evidently do not
affect the balance of life, but the great and numerous, if happening
for good, will make life more blessed (for it is their nature to
contribute to ornament, and the using of them comes to be noble and
excellent), but if for ill, they bruise as it were and maim the
blessedness: for they bring in positive pain, and hinder many acts of
working. But still, even in these, nobleness shines through when a man
bears contentedly many and great mischances not from insensibility to
pain but because he is noble and high-spirited.
And if, as we have said, the acts of working are what determine the
character of the life, no one of the blessed can ever become wretched,
because he will never do those things which are hateful and mean. For
the man who is truly good and sensible bears all fortunes, we presume,
becomingly, and always does what is noblest under the circumstances,
just as a good general employs to the best advantage the force he has
with him; or a good shoemaker makes the handsomest shoe he can out of
the leather which has been given him; and all other good artisans
likewise. And if this be so, wretched never can the happy man come to
be: I do not mean to say he will be blessed should he fall into
fortunes like those of Priam.
Nor, in truth, is he shifting and easily changeable, for on the one
hand from his happiness he will not be shaken easily nor by ordinary
mischances, but, if at all, by those which are great and numerous; and,
on the other, after such mischances he cannot regain his happiness in a
little time; but, if at all, in a long and complete period, during
which he has made himself master of great and noble things.
Why then should we not call happy the man who works in the way of
perfect virtue, and is furnished with external goods sufficient for
acting his part in the drama of life: and this during no ordinary
period but such as constitutes a complete life as we have been
describing it.
Or we must add, that not only is he to live so, but his death must be
in keeping with such life, since the future is dark to us, and
Happiness we assume to be in every way an end and complete. And, if
this be so, we shall call them among the living blessed who have and
will have the things specified, but blessed as Men.
On these points then let it suffice to have denned thus much.
Now that the fortunes of their descendants, and friends generally,
contribute nothing towards forming the condition of the dead, is
plainly a very heartless notion, and contrary to the current opinions.
But since things which befall are many, and differ in all kinds of
ways, and some touch more nearly, others less, to go into minute
particular distinctions would evidently be a long and endless task: and
so it may suffice to speak generally and in outline.
If then, as of the misfortunes which happen to one’s self, some have a
certain weight and turn the balance of life, while others are, so to
speak, lighter; so it is likewise with those which befall all our
friends alike; if further, whether they whom each suffering befalls be
alive or dead makes much more difference than in a tragedy the
presupposing or actual perpetration of the various crimes and horrors,
we must take into our account this difference also, and still more
perhaps the doubt concerning the dead whether they really partake of
any good or evil; it seems to result from all these considerations,
that if anything does pierce the veil and reach them, be the same good
or bad, it must be something trivial and small, either in itself or to
them; or at least of such a magnitude or such a kind as neither to make
happy them that are not so otherwise, nor to deprive of their
blessedness them that are.
It is plain then that the good or ill fortunes of their friends do
affect the dead somewhat: but in such kind and degree as neither to
make the happy unhappy nor produce any other such effect.
Having determined these points, let us examine with respect to
Happiness, whether it belongs to the class of things praiseworthy or
things precious; for to that of faculties it evidently does not.
Now it is plain that everything which is a subject of praise is praised
for being of a certain kind and bearing a certain relation to something
else: for instance, the just, and the valiant, and generally the good
man, and virtue itself, we praise because of the actions and the
results: and the strong man, and the quick runner, and so forth, we
praise for being of a certain nature and bearing a certain relation to
something good and excellent (and this is illustrated by attempts to
praise the gods; for they are presented in a ludicrous aspect by
being referred to our standard, and this results from the fact, that
all praise does, as we have said, imply reference to a standard). Now
if it is to such objects that praise belongs, it is evident that what
is applicable to the best objects is not praise, but something higher
and better: which is plain matter of fact, for not only do we call the
gods blessed and happy, but of men also we pronounce those blessed who
most nearly resemble the gods. And in like manner in respect of goods;
no man thinks of praising Happiness as he does the principle of
justice, but calls it blessed, as being somewhat more godlike and more
excellent.
Eudoxus too is thought to have advanced a sound argument in support
of the claim of pleasure to the highest prize: for the fact that,
though it is one of the good things, it is not praised, he took for an
indication of its superiority to those which are subjects of praise: a
superiority he attributed also to a god and the Chief Good, on the
ground that they form the standard to which everything besides is
referred. For praise applies to virtue, because it makes men apt to do
what is noble; but encomia to definite works of body or mind.
However, it is perhaps more suitable to a regular treatise on encomia
to pursue this topic with exactness: it is enough for our purpose that
from what has been said it is evident that Happiness belongs to the
class of things precious and final. And it seems to be so also because
of its being a starting-point; which it is, in that with a view to it
we all do everything else that is done; now the starting-point and
cause of good things we assume to be something precious and divine.
Moreover, since Happiness is a kind of working of the soul in the way
of perfect Excellence, we must enquire concerning Excellence: for so
probably shall we have a clearer view concerning Happiness; and again,
he who is really a statesman is generally thought to have spent most
pains on this, for he wishes to make the citizens good and obedient to
the laws. (For examples of this class we have the lawgivers of the
Cretans and Lacedæmonians and whatever other such there have been.)
But if this investigation belongs properly to πολιτικὴ, then clearly
the enquiry will be in accordance with our original design.
Well, we are to enquire concerning Excellence, i.e. Human Excellence
of course, because it was the Chief Good of Man and the Happiness of
Man that we were enquiring of just now.
And by Human Excellence we mean not that of man’s body but that of his
soul; for we call Happiness a working of the Soul.
And if this is so, it is plain that some knowledge of the nature of the
Soul is necessary for the statesman, just as for the oculist a
knowledge of the whole body, and the more so in proportion as πολιτικὴ
is more precious and higher than the healing art: and in fact
physicians of the higher class do busy themselves much with the
knowledge of the body.
So then the statesman is to consider the nature of the Soul: but he
must do so with these objects in view, and so far only as may suffice
for the objects of his special enquiry: for to carry his speculations
to a greater exactness is perhaps a task more laborious than falls
within his province.
In fact, the few statements made on the subject in my popular treatises
are quite enough, and accordingly we will adopt them here: as, that the
Soul consists of two parts, the Irrational and the Rational (as to
whether these are actually divided, as are the parts of the body, and
everything that is capable of division; or are only metaphysically
speaking two, being by nature inseparable, as are convex and concave
circumferences, matters not in respect of our present purpose). And of
the Irrational, the one part seems common to other objects, and in fact
vegetative; I mean the cause of nourishment and growth (for such a
faculty of the Soul one would assume to exist in all things that
receive nourishment, even in embryos, and this the same as in the
perfect creatures; for this is more likely than that it should be a
different one).
Now the Excellence of this manifestly is not peculiar to the human
species but common to others: for this part and this faculty is thought
to work most in time of sleep, and the good and bad man are least
distinguishable while asleep; whence it is a common saying that during
one half of life there is no difference between the happy and the
wretched; and this accords with our anticipations, for sleep is an
inactivity of the soul, in so far as it is denominated good or bad,
except that in some wise some of its movements find their way through
the veil and so the good come to have better dreams than ordinary men.
But enough of this: we must forego any further mention of the nutritive
part, since it is not naturally capable of the Excellence which is
peculiarly human.
And there seems to be another Irrational Nature of the Soul, which yet
in a way partakes of Reason. For in the man who controls his appetites,
and in him who resolves to do so and fails, we praise the Reason or
Rational part of the Soul, because it exhorts aright and to the best
course: but clearly there is in them, beside the Reason, some other
natural principle which fights with and strains against the Reason.
(For in plain terms, just as paralysed limbs of the body when their
owners would move them to the right are borne aside in a contrary
direction to the left, so is it in the case of the Soul, for the
impulses of men who cannot control their appetites are to contrary
points: the difference is that in the case of the body we do see what
is borne aside but in the case of the soul we do not. But, it may be,
not the less on that account are we to suppose that there is in the
Soul also somewhat besides the Reason, which is opposed to this and
goes against it; as to how it is different, that is irrelevant.)
But of Reason this too does evidently partake, as we have said: for
instance, in the man of self-control it obeys Reason: and perhaps in
the man of perfected self-mastery, or the brave man, it is yet
more obedient; in them it agrees entirely with the Reason.
So then the Irrational is plainly twofold: the one part, the merely
vegetative, has no share of Reason, but that of desire, or appetition
generally, does partake of it in a sense, in so far as it is obedient
to it and capable of submitting to its rule. (So too in common phrase
we say we have λόγος of our father or friends, and this in a different
sense from that in which we say we have λόγος of mathematics.)
Now that the Irrational is in some way persuaded by the Reason,
admonition, and every act of rebuke and exhortation indicate. If then
we are to say that this also has Reason, then the Rational, as well as
the Irrational, will be twofold, the one supremely and in itself, the
other paying it a kind of filial regard.
The Excellence of Man then is divided in accordance with this
difference: we make two classes, calling the one Intellectual, and the
other Moral; pure science, intelligence, and practical
wisdom—Intellectual: liberality, and perfected self-mastery—Moral: in
speaking of a man’s Moral character, we do not say he is a scientific
or intelligent but a meek man, or one of perfected self-mastery: and we
praise the man of science in right of his mental state; and of
these such as are praiseworthy we call Excellences.
Well: human Excellence is of two kinds, Intellectual and Moral: now
the Intellectual springs originally, and is increased subsequently,
from teaching (for the most part that is), and needs therefore
experience and time; whereas the Moral comes from custom, and so the
Greek term denoting it is but a slight deflection from the term
denoting custom in that language.
From this fact it is plain that not one of the Moral Virtues comes to
be in us merely by nature: because of such things as exist by nature,
none can be changed by custom: a stone, for instance, by nature
gravitating downwards, could never by custom be brought to ascend, not
even if one were to try and accustom it by throwing it up ten thousand
times; nor could file again be brought to descend, nor in fact could
anything whose nature is in one way be brought by custom to be in
another. The Virtues then come to be in us neither by nature, nor in
despite of nature, but we are furnished by nature with a capacity
for receiving themu and are perfected in them through custom.
Again, in whatever cases we get things by nature, we get the faculties
first and perform the acts of working afterwards; an illustration of
which is afforded by the case of our bodily senses, for it was not from
having often seen or heard that we got these senses, but just the
reverse: we had them and so exercised them, but did not have them
because we had exercised them. But the Virtues we get by first
performing single acts of working, which, again, is the case of other
things, as the arts for instance; for what we have to make when we have
learned how, these we learn how to make by making: men come to be
builders, for instance, by building; harp-players, by playing on the
harp: exactly so, by doing just actions we come to be just; by doing
the actions of self-mastery we come to be perfected in self-mastery;
and by doing brave actions brave.
And to the truth of this testimony is borne by what takes place in
communities: because the law-givers make the individual members good
men by habituation, and this is the intention certainly of every
law-giver, and all who do not effect it well fail of their intent; and
herein consists the difference between a good Constitution and a bad.
Again, every Virtue is either produced or destroyed from and by the
very same circumstances: art too in like manner; I mean it is by
playing the harp that both the good and the bad harp-players are
formed: and similarly builders and all the rest; by building well men
will become good builders; by doing it badly bad ones: in fact, if this
had not been so, there would have been no need of instructors, but all
men would have been at once good or bad in their several arts without
them.
So too then is it with the Virtues: for by acting in the various
relations in which we are thrown with our fellow men, we come to be,
some just, some unjust: and by acting in dangerous positions and being
habituated to feel fear or confidence, we come to be, some brave,
others cowards.
Similarly is it also with respect to the occasions of lust and anger:
for some men come to be perfected in self-mastery and mild, others
destitute of all self-control and passionate; the one class by behaving
in one way under them, the other by behaving in another. Or, in one
word, the habits are produced from the acts of working like to them:
and so what we have to do is to give a certain character to these
particular acts, because the habits formed correspond to the
differences of these.
So then, whether we are accustomed this way or that straight from
childhood, makes not a small but an important difference, or rather I
would say it makes all the difference.
Since then the object of the present treatise is not mere speculation,
as it is of some others (for we are enquiring not merely that we may
know what virtue is but that we may become virtuous, else it would have
been useless), we must consider as to the particular actions how we are
to do them, because, as we have just said, the quality of the habits
that shall be formed depends on these.
Now, that we are to act in accordance with Right Reason is a general
maxim, and may for the present be taken for granted: we will speak of
it hereafter, and say both what Right Reason is, and what are its
relations to the other virtues.
But let this point be first thoroughly understood between us, that all
which can be said on moral action must be said in outline, as it were,
and not exactly: for as we remarked at the commencement, such reasoning
only must be required as the nature of the subject-matter admits of,
and matters of moral action and expediency have no fixedness any more
than matters of health. And if the subject in its general maxims is
such, still less in its application to particular cases is exactness
attainable: because these fall not under any art or system of rules,
but it must be left in each instance to the individual agents to look
to the exigencies of the particular case, as it is in the art of
healing, or that of navigating a ship. Still, though the present
subject is confessedly such, we must try and do what we can for it.
First then this must be noted, that it is the nature of such things to
be spoiled by defect and excess; as we see in the case of health and
strength (since for the illustration of things which cannot be seen we
must use those that can), for excessive training impairs the strength
as well as deficient: meat and drink, in like manner, in too great or
too small quantities, impair the health: while in due proportion they
cause, increase, and preserve it.
Thus it is therefore with the habits of perfected Self-Mastery and
Courage and the rest of the Virtues: for the man who flies from and
fears all things, and never stands up against anything, comes to be a
coward; and he who fears nothing, but goes at everything, comes to be
rash. In like manner too, he that tastes of every pleasure and abstains
from none comes to lose all self-control; while he who avoids all, as
do the dull and clownish, comes as it were to lose his faculties of
perception: that is to say, the habits of perfected Self-Mastery and
Courage are spoiled by the excess and defect, but by the mean state are
preserved.
Furthermore, not only do the origination, growth, and marring of the
habits come from and by the same circumstances, but also the acts of
working after the habits are formed will be exercised on the same: for
so it is also with those other things which are more directly matters
of sight, strength for instance: for this comes by taking plenty of
food and doing plenty of work, and the man who has attained strength is
best able to do these: and so it is with the Virtues, for not only do
we by abstaining from pleasures come to be perfected in Self-Mastery,
but when we have come to be so we can best abstain from them: similarly
too with Courage: for it is by accustoming ourselves to despise objects
of fear and stand up against them that we come to be brave; and after
we have come to be so we shall be best able to stand up against such
objects.
And for a test of the formation of the habits we must take the pleasure
or pain which succeeds the acts; for he is perfected in Self-Mastery
who not only abstains from the bodily pleasures but is glad to do so;
whereas he who abstains but is sorry to do it has not Self-Mastery: he
again is brave who stands up against danger, either with positive
pleasure or at least without any pain; whereas he who does it with pain
is not brave.
For Moral Virtue has for its object-matter pleasures and pains, because
by reason of pleasure we do what is bad, and by reason of pain decline
doing what is right (for which cause, as Plato observes, men should
have been trained straight from their childhood to receive pleasure and
pain from proper objects, for this is the right education). Again:
since Virtues have to do with actions and feelings, and on every
feeling and every action pleasure and pain follow, here again is
another proof that Virtue has for its object-matter pleasure and pain.
The same is shown also by the fact that punishments are effected
through the instrumentality of these; because they are of the nature of
remedies, and it is the nature of remedies to be the contraries of the
ills they cure. Again, to quote what we said before: every habit of the
Soul by its very nature has relation to, and exerts itself upon, things
of the same kind as those by which it is naturally deteriorated or
improved: now such habits do come to be vicious by reason of pleasures
and pains, that is, by men pursuing or avoiding respectively, either
such as they ought not, or at wrong times, or in wrong manner, and so
forth (for which reason, by the way, some people define the Virtues as
certain states of impassibility and utter quietude, but they are
wrong because they speak without modification, instead of adding “as
they ought,” “as they ought not,” and “when,” and so on). Virtue then
is assumed to be that habit which is such, in relation to pleasures and
pains, as to effect the best results, and Vice the contrary.
The following considerations may also serve to set this in a clear
light. There are principally three things moving us to choice and three
to avoidance, the honourable, the expedient, the pleasant; and their
three contraries, the dishonourable, the hurtful, and the painful: now
the good man is apt to go right, and the bad man wrong, with respect to
all these of course, but most specially with respect to pleasure:
because not only is this common to him with all animals but also it is
a concomitant of all those things which move to choice, since both the
honourable and the expedient give an impression of pleasure.
Again, it grows up with us all from infancy, and so it is a hard matter
to remove from ourselves this feeling, engrained as it is into our very
life.
Again, we adopt pleasure and pain (some of us more, and some less) as
the measure even of actions: for this cause then our whole business
must be with them, since to receive right or wrong impressions of
pleasure and pain is a thing of no little importance in respect of the
actions. Once more; it is harder, as Heraclitus says, to fight against
pleasure than against anger: now it is about that which is more than
commonly difficult that art comes into being, and virtue too, because
in that which is difficult the good is of a higher order: and so for
this reason too both virtue and moral philosophy generally must wholly
busy themselves respecting pleasures and pains, because he that uses
these well will be good, he that does so ill will be bad.
Let us then be understood to have stated, that Virtue has for its
object-matter pleasures and pains, and that it is either increased or
marred by the same circumstances (differently used) by which it is
originally generated, and that it exerts itself on the same
circumstances out of which it was generated.
Now I can conceive a person perplexed as to the meaning of our
statement, that men must do just actions to become just, and those of
self-mastery to acquire the habit of self-mastery; “for,” he would say,
“if men are doing the actions they have the respective virtues already,
just as men are grammarians or musicians when they do the actions of
either art.” May we not reply by saying that it is not so even in the
case of the arts referred to: because a man may produce something
grammatical either by chance or the suggestion of another; but then
only will he be a grammarian when he not only produces something
grammatical but does so grammarian-wise, i.e. in virtue of the
grammatical knowledge he himself possesses.
Again, the cases of the arts and the virtues are not parallel: because
those things which are produced by the arts have their excellence in
themselves, and it is sufficient therefore that these when produced
should be in a certain state: but those which are produced in the way
of the virtues, are, strictly speaking, actions of a certain kind (say
of Justice or perfected Self-Mastery), not merely if in themselves they
are in a certain state but if also he who does them does them being
himself in a certain state, first if knowing what he is doing, next if
with deliberate preference, and with such preference for the things’
own sake; and thirdly if being himself stable and unapt to change. Now
to constitute possession of the arts these requisites are not reckoned
in, excepting the one point of knowledge: whereas for possession of the
virtues knowledge avails little or nothing, but the other requisites
avail not a little, but, in fact, are all in all, and these requisites
as a matter of fact do come from oftentimes doing the actions of
Justice and perfected Self-Mastery.
The facts, it is true, are called by the names of these habits when
they are such as the just or perfectly self-mastering man would do; but
he is not in possession of the virtues who merely does these facts, but
he who also so does them as the just and self-mastering do them.
We are right then in saying, that these virtues are formed in a man by
his doing the actions; but no one, if he should leave them undone,
would be even in the way to become a good man. Yet people in general do
not perform these actions, but taking refuge in talk they flatter
themselves they are philosophising, and that they will so be good men:
acting in truth very like those sick people who listen to the doctor
with great attention but do nothing that he tells them: just as these
then cannot be well bodily under such a course of treatment, so neither
can those be mentally by such philosophising.
Next, we must examine what Virtue is. Well, since the things which
come to be in the mind are, in all, of three kinds, Feelings,
Capacities, States, Virtue of course must belong to one of the three
classes.
By Feelings, I mean such as lust, anger, fear, confidence, envy, joy,
friendship, hatred, longing, emulation, compassion, in short all such
as are followed by pleasure or pain: by Capacities, those in right of
which we are said to be capable of these feelings; as by virtue of
which we are able to have been made angry, or grieved, or to have
compassionated; by States, those in right of which we are in a certain
relation good or bad to the aforementioned feelings; to having been
made angry, for instance, we are in a wrong relation if in our anger we
were too violent or too slack, but if we were in the happy medium we
are in a right relation to the feeling. And so on of the rest.
Now Feelings neither the virtues nor vices are, because in right of the
Feelings we are not denominated either good or bad, but in right of the
virtues and vices we are.
Again, in right of the Feelings we are neither praised nor blamed,
(for a man is not commended for being afraid or being angry, nor blamed
for being angry merely but for being so in a particular way), but in
right of the virtues and vices we are.
Again, both anger and fear we feel without moral choice, whereas the
virtues are acts of moral choice, or at least certainly not independent
of it.
Moreover, in right of the Feelings we are said to be moved, but in
right of the virtues and vices not to be moved, but disposed, in a
certain way.
And for these same reasons they are not Capacities, for we are not
called good or bad merely because we are able to feel, nor are we
praised or blamed.
And again, Capacities we have by nature, but we do not come to be good
or bad by nature, as we have said before.
Since then the virtues are neither Feelings nor Capacities, it remains
that they must be States.
Now what the genus of Virtue is has been said; but we must not merely
speak of it thus, that it is a state but say also what kind of a state
it is.
We must observe then that all excellence makes that whereof it is the
excellence both to be itself in a good state and to perform its work
well. The excellence of the eye, for instance, makes both the eye good
and its work also: for by the excellence of the eye we see well. So too
the excellence of the horse makes a horse good, and good in speed, and
in carrying his rider, and standing up against the enemy. If then this
is universally the case, the excellence of Man, i.e. Virtue, must be a
state whereby Man comes to be good and whereby he will perform well his
proper work. Now how this shall be it is true we have said already, but
still perhaps it may throw light on the subject to see what is its
characteristic nature.
In all quantity then, whether continuous or discrete, one may take
the greater part, the less, or the exactly equal, and these either with
reference to the thing itself, or relatively to us: and the exactly
equal is a mean between excess and defect. Now by the mean of the
thing, i.e. absolute mean, I denote that which is equidistant from
either extreme (which of course is one and the same to all), and by the
mean relatively to ourselves, that which is neither too much nor too
little for the particular individual. This of course is not one nor the
same to all: for instance, suppose ten is too much and two too little,
people take six for the absolute mean; because it exceeds the smaller
sum by exactly as much as it is itself exceeded by the larger, and this
mean is according to arithmetical proportion.
But the mean relatively to ourselves must not be so found ; for it does
not follow, supposing ten minæ is too large a quantity to eat and
two too small, that the trainer will order his man six; because for the
person who is to take it this also may be too much or too little: for
Milo it would be too little, but for a man just commencing his athletic
exercises too much: similarly too of the exercises themselves, as
running or wrestling.
So then it seems every one possessed of skill avoids excess and defect,
but seeks for and chooses the mean, not the absolute but the relative.
Now if all skill thus accomplishes well its work by keeping an eye on
the mean, and bringing the works to this point (whence it is common
enough to say of such works as are in a good state, “one cannot add to
or take ought from them,” under the notion of excess or defect
destroying goodness but the mean state preserving it), and good
artisans, as we say, work with their eye on this, and excellence, like
nature, is more exact and better than any art in the world, it must
have an aptitude to aim at the mean.
It is moral excellence, i.e. Virtue, of course which I mean, because
this it is which is concerned with feelings and actions, and in these
there can be excess and defect and the mean: it is possible, for
instance, to feel the emotions of fear, confidence, lust, anger,
compassion, and pleasure and pain generally, too much or too little,
and in either case wrongly; but to feel them when we ought, on what
occasions, towards whom, why, and as, we should do, is the mean, or in
other words the best state, and this is the property of Virtue.
In like manner too with respect to the actions, there may be excess and
defect and the mean. Now Virtue is concerned with feelings and actions,
in which the excess is wrong and the defect is blamed but the mean is
praised and goes right; and both these circumstances belong to Virtue.
Virtue then is in a sense a mean state, since it certainly has an
aptitude for aiming at the mean.
Again, one may go wrong in many different ways (because, as the
Pythagoreans expressed it, evil is of the class of the infinite, good
of the finite), but right only in one; and so the former is easy, the
latter difficult; easy to miss the mark, but hard to hit it: and for
these reasons, therefore, both the excess and defect belong to Vice,
and the mean state to Virtue; for, as the poet has it,
“Men may be bad in many ways,
But good in one alone.”
Virtue then is “a state apt to exercise deliberate choice, being in the
relative mean, determined by reason, and as the man of practical
wisdom would determine.”
It is a middle state between too faulty ones, in the way of excess on
one side and of defect on the other: and it is so moreover, because the
faulty states on one side fall short of, and those on the other exceed,
what is right, both in the case of the feelings and the actions; but
Virtue finds, and when found adopts, the mean.
And so, viewing it in respect of its essence and definition, Virtue is
a mean state; but in reference to the chief good and to excellence it
is the highest state possible.
But it must not be supposed that every action or every feeling is
capable of subsisting in this mean state, because some there are which
are so named as immediately to convey the notion of badness, as
malevolence, shamelessness, envy; or, to instance in actions, adultery,
theft, homicide; for all these and suchlike are blamed because they are
in themselves bad, not the having too much or too little of them.
In these then you never can go right, but must always be wrong: nor in
such does the right or wrong depend on the selection of a proper
person, time, or manner (take adultery for instance), but simply doing
any one soever of those things is being wrong.
You might as well require that there should be determined a mean state,
an excess and a defect in respect of acting unjustly, being cowardly,
or giving up all control of the passions: for at this rate there will
be of excess and defect a mean state; of excess, excess; and of defect,
defect.
But just as of perfected self-mastery and courage there is no excess
and defect, because the mean is in one point of view the highest
possible state, so neither of those faulty states can you have a mean
state, excess, or defect, but howsoever done they are wrong: you
cannot, in short, have of excess and defect a mean state, nor of a mean
state excess and defect.
It is not enough, however, to state this in general terms, we must also
apply it to particular instances, because in treatises on moral conduct
general statements have an air of vagueness, but those which go into
detail one of greater reality: for the actions after all must be in
detail, and the general statements, to be worth anything, must hold
good here.
We must take these details then from the well-known scheme.
The Mean state is Courage: men may exceed, of course, either in absence
of fear or in positive confidence: the former has no name (which is a
common case), the latter is called rash: again, the man who has too
much fear and too little confidence is called a coward.
pains than pleasures):
The Mean state here is perfected Self-Mastery, the defect total absence
of Self-control. As for defect in respect of pleasure, there are really
no people who are chargeable with it, so, of course, there is really no
name for such characters, but, as they are conceivable, we will give
them one and call them insensible.
The mean state is Liberality, the excess Prodigality, the defect
Stinginess: here each of the extremes involves really an excess and
defect contrary to each other: I mean, the prodigal gives out too much
and takes in too little, while the stingy man takes in too much and
gives out too little. (It must be understood that we are now giving
merely an outline and summary, intentionally: and we will, in a later
part of the treatise, draw out the distinctions with greater
exactness.)
There are other dispositions besides these just mentioned; a mean state
called Munificence (for the munificent man differs from the liberal,
the former having necessarily to do with great wealth, the latter with
but small); the excess called by the names either of Want of taste or
Vulgar Profusion, and the defect Paltriness (these also differ from the
extremes connected with liberality, and the manner of their difference
shall also be spoken of later).
The mean state Greatness of Soul, the excess which may be called
χαυνότης, and the defect Littleness of Soul.
Now there is a state bearing the same relation to Greatness of Soul as
we said just now Liberality does to Munificence, with the difference
that is of being about a small amount of the same thing: this state
having reference to small honour, as Greatness of Soul to great honour;
a man may, of course, grasp at honour either more than he should or
less; now he that exceeds in his grasping at it is called ambitious, he
that falls short unambitious, he that is just as he should be has no
proper name: nor in fact have the states, except that the disposition
of the ambitious man is called ambition. For this reason those who are
in either extreme lay claim to the mean as a debateable land, and we
call the virtuous character sometimes by the name ambitious,
sometimes by that of unambitious, and we commend sometimes the one and
sometimes the other. Why we do it shall be said in the subsequent part
of the treatise; but now we will go on with the rest of the virtues
after the plan we have laid down.
Here too there is excess, defect, and a mean state; but since they may
be said to have really no proper names, as we call the virtuous
character Meek, we will call the mean state Meekness, and of the
extremes, let the man who is excessive be denominated Passionate, and
the faulty state Passionateness, and him who is deficient Angerless,
and the defect Angerlessness.
There are also three other mean states, having some mutual resemblance,
but still with differences; they are alike in that they all have for
their object-matter intercourse of words and deeds, and they differ in
that one has respect to truth herein, the other two to what is
pleasant; and this in two ways, the one in relaxation and amusement,
the other in all things which occur in daily life. We must say a word
or two about these also, that we may the better see that in all matters
the mean is praiseworthy, while the extremes are neither right nor
worthy of praise but of blame.
Now of these, it is true, the majority have really no proper names, but
still we must try, as in the other cases, to coin some for them for the
sake of clearness and intelligibleness.
The man who is in the mean state we will call Truthful, and his state
Truthfulness, and as to the disguise of truth, if it be on the side of
exaggeration, Braggadocia, and him that has it a Braggadocio; if on
that of diminution, Reserve and Reserved shall be the terms.
amusement.
The mean state shall be called Easy-pleasantry, and the character
accordingly a man of Easy-pleasantry; the excess Buffoonery, and the
man a Buffoon; the man deficient herein a Clown, and his state
Clownishness.
He that is as he should be may be called Friendly, and his mean state
Friendliness: he that exceeds, if it be without any interested motive,
somewhat too Complaisant, if with such motive, a Flatterer: he that is
deficient and in all instances unpleasant, Quarrelsome and Cross.
There are mean states likewise in feelings and matters concerning them.
Shamefacedness, for instance, is no virtue, still a man is praised for
being shamefaced: for in these too the one is denominated the man in
the mean state, the other in the excess; the Dumbfoundered, for
instance, who is overwhelmed with shame on all and any occasions: the
man who is in the defect, i.e. who has no shame at all in his
composition, is called Shameless: but the right character Shamefaced.
Indignation against successful vice, again, is a state in the mean
between Envy and Malevolence: they all three have respect to pleasure
and pain produced by what happens to one’s neighbour: for the man who
has this right feeling is annoyed at undeserved success of others,
while the envious man goes beyond him and is annoyed at all success of
others, and the malevolent falls so far short of feeling annoyance that
he even rejoices [at misfortune of others].
But for the discussion of these also there will be another opportunity,
as of Justice too, because the term is used in more senses than one. So
after this we will go accurately into each and say how they are mean
states: and in like manner also with respect to the Intellectual
Excellences.
Now as there are three states in each case, two faulty either in the
way of excess or defect, and one right, which is the mean state, of
course all are in a way opposed to one another; the extremes, for
instance, not only to the mean but also to one another, and the mean to
the extremes: for just as the half is greater if compared with the less
portion, and less if compared with the greater, so the mean states,
compared with the defects, exceed, whether in feelings or actions, and
vice versa. The brave man, for instance, shows as rash when compared
with the coward, and cowardly when compared with the rash; similarly
too the man of perfected self-mastery, viewed in comparison with the
man destitute of all perception, shows like a man of no self-control,
but in comparison with the man who really has no self-control, he looks
like one destitute of all perception: and the liberal man compared with
the stingy seems prodigal, and by the side of the prodigal, stingy.
And so the extreme characters push away, so to speak, towards each
other the man in the mean state; the brave man is called a rash man by
the coward, and a coward by the rash man, and in the other cases
accordingly. And there being this mutual opposition, the contrariety
between the extremes is greater than between either and the mean,
because they are further from one another than from the mean, just as
the greater or less portion differ more from each other than either
from the exact half.
Again, in some cases an extreme will bear a resemblance to the mean;
rashness, for instance, to courage, and prodigality to liberality; but
between the extremes there is the greatest dissimilarity. Now things
which are furthest from one another are defined to be contrary, and
so the further off the more contrary will they be.
Further: of the extremes in some cases the excess, and in others the
defect, is most opposed to the mean: to courage, for instance, not
rashness which is the excess, but cowardice which is the defect;
whereas to perfected self-mastery not insensibility which is the defect
but absence of all self-control which is the excess.
And for this there are two reasons to be given; one from the nature of
the thing itself, because from the one extreme being nearer and more
like the mean, we do not put this against it, but the other; as, for
instance, since rashness is thought to be nearer to courage than
cowardice is, and to resemble it more, we put cowardice against courage
rather than rashness, because those things which are further from the
mean are thought to be more contrary to it. This then is one reason
arising from the thing itself; there is another arising from our own
constitution and make: for in each man’s own case those things give the
impression of being more contrary to the mean to which we individually
have a natural bias. Thus we have a natural bias towards pleasures, for
which reason we are much more inclined to the rejection of all
self-control, than to self-discipline.
These things then to which the bias is, we call more contrary, and so
total want of self-control (the excess) is more contrary than the
defect is to perfected self-mastery.
Now that Moral Virtue is a mean state, and how it is so, and that it
lies between two faulty states, one in the way of excess and another in
the way of defect, and that it is so because it has an aptitude to aim
at the mean both in feelings and actions, all this has been set forth
fully and sufficiently.
And so it is hard to be good: for surely hard it is in each instance to
find the mean, just as to find the mean point or centre of a circle is
not what any man can do, but only he who knows how: just so to be
angry, to give money, and be expensive, is what any man can do, and
easy: but to do these to the right person, in due proportion, at the
right time, with a right object, and in the right manner, this is not
as before what any man can do, nor is it easy; and for this cause
goodness is rare, and praiseworthy, and noble.
Therefore he who aims at the mean should make it his first care to keep
away from that extreme which is more contrary than the other to the
mean; just as Calypso in Homer advises Ulysses,
“Clear of this smoke and surge thy barque direct;”
because of the two extremes the one is always more, and the other less,
erroneous; and, therefore, since to hit exactly on the mean is
difficult, one must take the least of the evils as the safest plan;
and this a man will be doing, if he follows this method.
We ought also to take into consideration our own natural bias; which
varies in each man’s case, and will be ascertained from the pleasure
and pain arising in us. Furthermore, we should force ourselves off in
the contrary direction, because we shall find ourselves in the mean
after we have removed ourselves far from the wrong side, exactly as men
do in straightening bent timber.
But in all cases we must guard most carefully against what is pleasant,
and pleasure itself, because we are not impartial judges of it.
We ought to feel in fact towards pleasure as did the old counsellors
towards Helen, and in all cases pronounce a similar sentence; for so by
sending it away from us, we shall err the less.
Well, to speak very briefly, these are the precautions by adopting
which we shall be best able to attain the mean.
Still, perhaps, after all it is a matter of difficulty, and specially
in the particular instances: it is not easy, for instance, to determine
exactly in what manner, with what persons, for what causes, and for
what length of time, one ought to feel anger: for we ourselves
sometimes praise those who are defective in this feeling, and we call
them meek; at another, we term the hot-tempered manly and spirited.
Then, again, he who makes a small deflection from what is right, be it
on the side of too much or too little, is not blamed, only he who makes
a considerable one; for he cannot escape observation. But to what point
or degree a man must err in order to incur blame, it is not easy to
determine exactly in words: nor in fact any of those points which are
matter of perception by the Moral Sense: such questions are matters of
detail, and the decision of them rests with the Moral Sense.
At all events thus much is plain, that the mean state is in all things
praiseworthy, and that practically we must deflect sometimes towards
excess sometimes towards defect, because this will be the easiest
method of hitting on the mean, that is, on what is right.
Now since Virtue is concerned with the regulation of feelings and
actions, and praise and blame arise upon such as are voluntary, while
for the involuntary allowance is made, and sometimes compassion is
excited, it is perhaps a necessary task for those who are investigating
the nature of Virtue to draw out the distinction between what is
voluntary and what involuntary; and it is certainly useful for
legislators, with respect to the assigning of honours and punishments.
Involuntary actions then are thought to be of two kinds, being done
either on compulsion, or by reason of ignorance. An action is, properly
speaking, compulsory, when the origination is external to the agent,
being such that in it the agent (perhaps we may more properly say the
patient) contributes nothing; as if a wind were to convey you anywhere,
or men having power over your person.
But when actions are done, either from fear of greater evils, or from
some honourable motive, as, for instance, if you were ordered to commit
some base act by a despot who had your parents or children in his
power, and they were to be saved upon your compliance or die upon your
refusal, in such cases there is room for a question whether the actions
are voluntary or involuntary.
A similar question arises with respect to cases of throwing goods
overboard in a storm: abstractedly no man throws away his property
willingly, but with a view to his own and his shipmates’ safety any one
would who had any sense.
The truth is, such actions are of a mixed kind, but are most like
voluntary actions; for they are choice-worthy at the time when they are
being done, and the end or object of the action must be taken with
reference to the actual occasion. Further, we must denominate an action
voluntary or involuntary at the time of doing it: now in the given case
the man acts voluntarily, because the originating of the motion of his
limbs in such actions rests with himself; and where the origination is
in himself it rests with himself to do or not to do.
Such actions then are voluntary, though in the abstract perhaps
involuntary because no one would choose any of such things in and by
itself.
But for such actions men sometimes are even praised, as when they
endure any disgrace or pain to secure great and honourable equivalents;
if vice versâ, then they are blamed, because it shows a base mind to
endure things very disgraceful for no honourable object, or for a
trifling one.
For some again no praise is given, but allowance is made; as where a
man does what he should not by reason of such things as overstrain the
powers of human nature, or pass the limits of human endurance.
Some acts perhaps there are for which compulsion cannot be pleaded, but
a man should rather suffer the worst and die; how absurd, for instance,
are the pleas of compulsion with which Alcmaeon in Euripides’ play
excuses his matricide!
But it is difficult sometimes to decide what kind of thing should be
chosen instead of what, or what endured in preference to what, and much
moreso to abide by one’s decisions: for in general the alternatives are
painful, and the actions required are base, and so praise or blame is
awarded according as persons have been compelled or no.
What kind of actions then are to be called compulsory? may we say,
simply and abstractedly whenever the cause is external and the agent
contributes nothing; and that where the acts are in themselves such as
one would not wish but choice-worthy at the present time and in
preference to such and such things, and where the origination rests
with the agent, the actions are in themselves involuntary but at the
given time and in preference to such and such things voluntary; and
they are more like voluntary than involuntary, because the actions
consist of little details, and these are voluntary.
But what kind of things one ought to choose instead of what, it is not
easy to settle, for there are many differences in particular instances.
But suppose a person should say, things pleasant and honourable exert a
compulsive force (for that they are external and do compel); at that
rate every action is on compulsion, because these are universal motives
of action.
Again, they who act on compulsion and against their will do so with
pain; but they who act by reason of what is pleasant or honourable act
with pleasure.
It is truly absurd for a man to attribute his actions to external
things instead of to his own capacity for being easily caught by
them; or, again, to ascribe the honourable to himself, and the base
ones to pleasure.
So then that seems to be compulsory “whose origination is from without,
the party compelled contributing nothing.”
Now every action of which ignorance is the cause is not-voluntary, but
that only is involuntary which is attended with pain and remorse; for
clearly the man who has done anything by reason of ignorance, but is
not annoyed at his own action, cannot be said to have done it with
his will because he did not know he was doing it, nor again against
his will because he is not sorry for it.
So then of the class “acting by reason of ignorance,” he who feels
regret afterwards is thought to be an involuntary agent, and him that
has no such feeling, since he certainly is different from the other, we
will call a not-voluntary agent; for as there is a real difference it
is better to have a proper name.
Again, there seems to be a difference between acting because of
ignorance and acting with ignorance: for instance, we do not usually
assign ignorance as the cause of the actions of the drunken or angry
man, but either the drunkenness or the anger, yet they act not
knowingly but with ignorance.
Again, every bad man is ignorant what he ought to do and what to leave
undone, and by reason of such error men become unjust and wholly evil.
Again, we do not usually apply the term involuntary when a man is
ignorant of his own true interest; because ignorance which affects
moral choice constitutes depravity but not involuntariness: nor does
any ignorance of principle (because for this men are blamed) but
ignorance in particular details, wherein consists the action and
wherewith it is concerned, for in these there is both compassion and
allowance, because he who acts in ignorance of any of them acts in a
proper sense involuntarily.
It may be as well, therefore, to define these particular details; what
they are, and how many; viz. who acts, what he is doing, with respect
to what or in what, sometimes with what, as with what instrument, and
with what result; as that of preservation, for instance, and how, as
whether softly or violently.
All these particulars, in one and the same case, no man in his senses
could be ignorant of; plainly not of the agent, being himself. But what
he is doing a man may be ignorant, as men in speaking say a thing
escaped them unawares; or as Aeschylus did with respect to the
Mysteries, that he was not aware that it was unlawful to speak of them;
or as in the case of that catapult accident the other day the man said
he discharged it merely to display its operation. Or a person might
suppose a son to be an enemy, as Merope did; or that the spear really
pointed was rounded off; or that the stone was a pumice; or in striking
with a view to save might kill; or might strike when merely wishing to
show another, as people do in sham-fighting.
Now since ignorance is possible in respect to all these details in
which the action consists, he that acted in ignorance of any of them is
thought to have acted involuntarily, and he most so who was in
ignorance as regards the most important, which are thought to be those
in which the action consists, and the result.
Further, not only must the ignorance be of this kind, to constitute an
action involuntary, but it must be also understood that the action is
followed by pain and regret.
Now since all involuntary action is either upon compulsion or by reason
of ignorance, Voluntary Action would seem to be “that whose origination
is in the agent, he being aware of the particular details in which the
action consists.”
For, it may be, men are not justified by calling those actions
involuntary, which are done by reason of Anger or Lust.
Because, in the first place, if this be so no other animal but man, and
not even children, can be said to act voluntarily. Next, is it meant
that we never act voluntarily when we act from Lust or Anger, or that
we act voluntarily in doing what is right and involuntarily in doing
what is discreditable? The latter supposition is absurd, since the
cause is one and the same. Then as to the former, it is a strange thing
to maintain actions to be involuntary which we are bound to grasp at:
now there are occasions on which anger is a duty, and there are
things which we are bound to lust after, health, for instance, and
learning.
Again, whereas actions strictly involuntary are thought to be attended
with pain, those which are done to gratify lust are thought to be
pleasant.
Again: how does the involuntariness make any difference between
wrong actions done from deliberate calculation, and those done by
reason of anger? for both ought to be avoided, and the irrational
feelings are thought to be just as natural to man as reason, and so of
course must be such actions of the individual as are done from Anger
and Lust. It is absurd then to class these actions among the
involuntary.
Having thus drawn out the distinction between voluntary and involuntary
action our next step is to examine into the nature of Moral Choice,
because this seems most intimately connected with Virtue and to be a
more decisive test of moral character than a man’s acts are.
Now Moral Choice is plainly voluntary, but the two are not
co-extensive, voluntary being the more comprehensive term; for first,
children and all other animals share in voluntary action but not in
Moral Choice; and next, sudden actions we call voluntary but do not
ascribe them to Moral Choice.
Nor do they appear to be right who say it is lust or anger, or wish, or
opinion of a certain kind; because, in the first place, Moral Choice is
not shared by the irrational animals while Lust and Anger are. Next;
the man who fails of self-control acts from Lust but not from Moral
Choice; the man of self-control, on the contrary, from Moral Choice,
not from Lust. Again: whereas Lust is frequently opposed to Moral
Choice, Lust is not to Lust.
Lastly: the object-matter of Lust is the pleasant and the painful, but
of Moral Choice neither the one nor the other. Still less can it be
Anger, because actions done from Anger are thought generally to be
least of all consequent on Moral Choice.
Nor is it Wish either, though appearing closely connected with it;
because, in the first place, Moral Choice has not for its objects
impossibilities, and if a man were to say he chose them he would be
thought to be a fool; but Wish may have impossible things for its
objects, immortality for instance.
Wish again may be exercised on things in the accomplishment of which
one’s self could have nothing to do, as the success of any particular
actor or athlete; but no man chooses things of this nature, only such
as he believes he may himself be instrumental in procuring.
Further: Wish has for its object the End rather, but Moral Choice the
means to the End; for instance, we wish to be healthy but we choose the
means which will make us so; or happiness again we wish for, and
commonly say so, but to say we choose is not an appropriate term,
because, in short, the province of Moral Choice seems to be those
things which are in our own power.
Neither can it be Opinion; for Opinion is thought to be unlimited in
its range of objects, and to be exercised as well upon things eternal
and impossible as on those which are in our own power: again, Opinion
is logically divided into true and false, not into good and bad as
Moral Choice is.
However, nobody perhaps maintains its identity with Opinion simply; but
it is not the same with opinion of any kind, because by choosing good
and bad things we are constituted of a certain character, but by having
opinions on them we are not.
Again, we choose to take or avoid, and so on, but we opine what a thing
is, or for what it is serviceable, or how; but we do not opine to take
or avoid.
Further, Moral Choice is commended rather for having a right object
than for being judicious, but Opinion for being formed in accordance
with truth.
Again, we choose such things as we pretty well know to be good, but we
form opinions respecting such as we do not know at all.
And it is not thought that choosing and opining best always go
together, but that some opine the better course and yet by reason of
viciousness choose not the things which they should.
It may be urged, that Opinion always precedes or accompanies Moral
Choice; be it so, this makes no difference, for this is not the point
in question, but whether Moral Choice is the same as Opinion of a
certain kind.
Since then it is none of the aforementioned things, what is it, or how
is it characterised? Voluntary it plainly is, but not all voluntary
action is an object of Moral Choice. May we not say then, it is “that
voluntary which has passed through a stage of previous deliberation?”
because Moral Choice is attended with reasoning and intellectual
process. The etymology of its Greek name seems to give a hint of it,
being when analysed “chosen in preference to somewhat else.”
Well then; do men deliberate about everything, and is anything soever
the object of Deliberation, or are there some matters with respect to
which there is none? (It may be as well perhaps to say, that by “object
of Deliberation” is meant such matter as a sensible man would
deliberate upon, not what any fool or madman might.)
Well: about eternal things no one deliberates; as, for instance, the
universe, or the incommensurability of the diameter and side of a
square.
Nor again about things which are in motion but which always happen in
the same way either necessarily, or naturally, or from some other
cause, as the solstices or the sunrise.
Nor about those which are variable, as drought and rains; nor
fortuitous matters, as finding of treasure.
Nor in fact even about all human affairs; no Lacedæmonian, for
instance, deliberates as to the best course for the Scythian government
to adopt; because in such cases we have no power over the result.
But we do deliberate respecting such practical matters as are in our
own power (which are what are left after all our exclusions).
I have adopted this division because causes seem to be divisible into
nature, necessity, chance, and moreover intellect, and all human
powers.
And as man in general deliberates about what man in general can effect,
so individuals do about such practical things as can be effected
through their own instrumentality.
Again, we do not deliberate respecting such arts or sciences as are
exact and independent: as, for instance, about written characters,
because we have no doubt how they should be formed; but we do
deliberate on all buch things as are usually done through our own
instrumentality, but not invariably in the same way; as, for instance,
about matters connected with the healing art, or with money-making;
and, again, more about piloting ships than gymnastic exercises, because
the former has been less exactly determined, and so forth; and more
about arts than sciences, because we more frequently doubt respecting
the former.
So then Deliberation takes place in such matters as are under general
laws, but still uncertain how in any given case they will issue, i.e.
in which there is some indefiniteness; and for great matters we
associate coadjutors in counsel, distrusting our ability to settle them
alone.
Further, we deliberate not about Ends, but Means to Ends. No physician,
for instance, deliberates whether he will cure, nor orator whether he
will persuade, nor statesman whether he will produce a good
constitution, nor in fact any man in any other function about his
particular End; but having set before them a certain End they look how
and through what means it may be accomplished: if there is a choice of
means, they examine further which are easiest and most creditable; or,
if there is but one means of accomplishing the object, then how it may
be through this, this again through what, till they come to the first
cause; and this will be the last found; for a man engaged in a process
of deliberation seems to seek and analyse, as a man, to solve a
problem, analyses the figure given him. And plainly not every search is
Deliberation, those in mathematics to wit, but every Deliberation is a
search, and the last step in the analysis is the first in the
constructive process. And if in the course of their search men come
upon an impossibility, they give it up; if money, for instance, be
necessary, but cannot be got: but if the thing appears possible they
then attempt to do it.
And by possible I mean what may be done through our own instrumentality
(of course what may be done through our friends is through our own
instrumentality in a certain sense, because the origination in such
cases rests with us). And the object of search is sometimes the
necessary instruments, sometimes the method of using them; and
similarly in the rest sometimes through what, and sometimes how or
through what.
So it seems, as has been said, that Man is the originator of his
actions; and Deliberation has for its object whatever may be done
through one’s own instrumentality, and the actions are with a view to
other things; and so it is, not the End, but the Means to Ends on which
Deliberation is employed.
Nor, again, is it employed on matters of detail, as whether the
substance before me is bread, or has been properly cooked; for these
come under the province of sense, and if a man is to be always
deliberating, he may go on ad infinitum.
Further, exactly the same matter is the object both of Deliberation and
Moral Choice; but that which is the object of Moral Choice is
thenceforward separated off and definite, because by object of
Moral Choice is denoted that which after Deliberation has been
preferred to something else: for each man leaves off searching how he
shall do a thing when he has brought the origination up to himself,
i.e. to the governing principle in himself, because it is this
which makes the choice. A good illustration of this is furnished by the
old regal constitutions which Homer drew from, in which the Kings would
announce to the commonalty what they had determined before.
Now since that which is the object of Moral Choice is something in our
own power, which is the object of deliberation and the grasping of the
Will, Moral Choice must be “a grasping after something in our own power
consequent upon Deliberation:” because after having deliberated we
decide, and then grasp by our Will in accordance with the result of our
deliberation.
Let this be accepted as a sketch of the nature and object of Moral
Choice, that object being “Means to Ends.”
That Wish has for its object-matter the End, has been already stated;
but there are two opinions respecting it; some thinking that its object
is real good, others whatever impresses the mind with a notion of good.
Now those who maintain that the object of Wish is real good are beset
by this difficulty, that what is wished for by him who chooses wrongly
is not really an object of Wish (because, on their theory, if it is an
object of wish, it must be good, but it is, in the case supposed,
evil). Those who maintain, on the contrary, that that which impresses
the mind with a notion of good is properly the object of Wish, have to
meet this difficulty, that there is nothing naturally an object of Wish
but to each individual whatever seems good to him; now different people
have different notions, and it may chance contrary ones.
But, if these opinions do not satisfy us, may we not say that,
abstractedly and as a matter of objective truth, the really good is the
object of Wish, but to each individual whatever impresses his mind with
the notion of good. And so to the good man that is an object of
Wish which is really and truly so, but to the bad man anything may be;
just as physically those things are wholesome to the healthy which are
really so, but other things to the sick. And so too of bitter and
sweet, and hot and heavy, and so on. For the good man judges in every
instance correctly, and in every instance the notion conveyed to his
mind is the true one.
For there are fair and pleasant things peculiar to, and so varying
with, each state; and perhaps the most distinguishing characteristic of
the good man is his seeing the truth in every instance, he being, in
fact, the rule and measure of these matters.
The multitude of men seem to be deceived by reason of pleasure, because
though it is not really a good it impresses their minds with the notion
of goodness, so they choose what is pleasant as good and avoid pain as
an evil.
Now since the End is the object of Wish, and the means to the End of
Deliberation and Moral Choice, the actions regarding these matters must
be in the way of Moral Choice, i.e. voluntary: but the acts of
working out the virtues are such actions, and therefore Virtue is in
our power.
And so too is Vice: because wherever it is in our power to do it is
also in our power to forbear doing, and vice versâ: therefore if the
doing (being in a given case creditable) is in our power, so too is the
forbearing (which is in the same case discreditable), and vice versâ.
But if it is in our power to do and to forbear doing what is creditable
or the contrary, and these respectively constitute the being good or
bad, then the being good or vicious characters is in our power.
As for the well-known saying, “No man voluntarily is wicked or
involuntarily happy,” it is partly true, partly false; for no man is
happy against his will, of course, but wickedness is voluntary. Or must
we dispute the statements lately made, and not say that Man is the
originator or generator of his actions as much as of his children?
But if this is matter of plain manifest fact, and we cannot refer our
actions to any other originations beside those in our own power, those
things must be in our own power, and so voluntary, the originations of
which are in ourselves.
Moreover, testimony seems to be borne to these positions both privately
by individuals, and by law-givers too, in that they chastise and punish
those who do wrong (unless they do so on compulsion, or by reason of
ignorance which is not self-caused), while they honour those who act
rightly, under the notion of being likely to encourage the latter and
restrain the former. But such things as are not in our own power,
i.e. not voluntary, no one thinks of encouraging us to do, knowing it
to be of no avail for one to have been persuaded not to be hot (for
instance), or feel pain, or be hungry, and so forth, because we shall
have those sensations all the same.
And what makes the case stronger is this: that they chastise for the
very fact of ignorance, when it is thought to be self-caused; to the
drunken, for instance, penalties are double, because the origination in
such case lies in a man’s own self: for he might have helped getting
drunk, and this is the cause of his ignorance.
Again, those also who are ignorant of legal regulations which they are
bound to know, and which are not hard to know, they chastise; and
similarly in all other cases where neglect is thought to be the cause
of the ignorance, under the notion that it was in their power to
prevent their ignorance, because they might have paid attention.
But perhaps a man is of such a character that he cannot attend to such
things: still men are themselves the causes of having become such
characters by living carelessly, and also of being unjust or destitute
of self-control, the former by doing evil actions, the latter by
spending their time in drinking and such-like; because the particular
acts of working form corresponding characters, as is shown by those who
are practising for any contest or particular course of action, for such
men persevere in the acts of working.
As for the plea, that a man did not know that habits are produced from
separate acts of working, we reply, such ignorance is a mark of
excessive stupidity.
Furthermore, it is wholly irrelevant to say that the man who acts
unjustly or dissolutely does not wish to attain the habits of these
vices: for if a man wittingly does those things whereby he must become
unjust he is to all intents and purposes unjust voluntarily; but he
cannot with a wish cease to be unjust and become just. For, to take the
analogous case, the sick man cannot with a wish be well again, yet in a
supposable case he is voluntarily ill because he has produced his
sickness by living intemperately and disregarding his physicians. There
was a time then when he might have helped being ill, but now he has let
himself go he cannot any longer; just as he who has let a stone out of
his hand cannot recall it, and yet it rested with him to aim and
throw it, because the origination was in his power. Just so the unjust
man, and he who has lost all self-control, might originally have helped
being what they are, and so they are voluntarily what they are; but now
that they are become so they no longer have the power of being
otherwise.
And not only are mental diseases voluntary, but the bodily are so in
some men, whom we accordingly blame: for such as are naturally deformed
no one blames, only such as are so by reason of want of exercise, and
neglect: and so too of weakness and maiming: no one would think of
upbraiding, but would rather compassionate, a man who is blind by
nature, or from disease, or from an accident; but every one would blame
him who was so from excess of wine, or any other kind of intemperance.
It seems, then, that in respect of bodily diseases, those which depend
on ourselves are censured, those which do not are not censured; and if
so, then in the case of the mental disorders, those which are censured
must depend upon ourselves.
But suppose a man to say, “that (by our own admission) all men aim at
that which conveys to their minds an impression of good, and that men
have no control over this impression, but that the End impresses each
with a notion correspondent to his own individual character; that to be
sure if each man is in a way the cause of his own moral state, so he
will be also of the kind of impression he receives: whereas, if this is
not so, no one is the cause to himself of doing evil actions, but he
does them by reason of ignorance of the true End, supposing that
through their means he will secure the chief good. Further, that this
aiming at the End is no matter of one’s own choice, but one must be
born with a power of mental vision, so to speak, whereby to judge
fairly and choose that which is really good; and he is blessed by
nature who has this naturally well: because it is the most important
thing and the fairest, and what a man cannot get or learn from another
but will have such as nature has given it; and for this to be so given
well and fairly would be excellence of nature in the highest and truest
sense.”
If all this be true, how will Virtue be a whit more voluntary than
Vice? Alike to the good man and the bad, the End gives its impression
and is fixed by nature or howsoever you like to say, and they act so
and so, referring everything else to this End.
Whether then we suppose that the End impresses each man’s mind with
certain notions not merely by nature, but that there is somewhat also
dependent on himself; or that the End is given by nature, and yet
Virtue is voluntary because the good man does all the rest voluntarily,
Vice must be equally so; because his own agency equally attaches to the
bad man in the actions, even if not in the selection of the End.
If then, as is commonly said, the Virtues are voluntary (because we at
least cooperate in producing our moral states, and we assume the
End to be of a certain kind according as we are ourselves of certain
characters), the Vices must be voluntary also, because the cases are
exactly similar.
Well now, we have stated generally respecting the Moral Virtues, the
genus (in outline), that they are mean states, and that they are
habits, and how they are formed, and that they are of themselves
calculated to act upon the circumstances out of which they were formed,
and that they are in our own power and voluntary, and are to be done so
as right Reason may direct.
But the particular actions and the habits are not voluntary in the same
sense; for of the actions we are masters from beginning to end
(supposing of course a knowledge of the particular details), but only
of the origination of the habits, the addition by small particular
accessions not being cognisiable (as is the case with sicknesses):
still they are voluntary because it rested with us to use our
circumstances this way or that.
Here we will resume the particular discussion of the Moral Virtues, and
say what they are, what is their object-matter, and how they stand
respectively related to it: of course their number will be thereby
shown.
First, then, of Courage. Now that it is a mean state, in respect of
fear and boldness, has been already said: further, the objects of our
fears are obviously things fearful or, in a general way of statement,
evils; which accounts for the common definition of fear, viz.
“expectation of evil.”
Of course we fear evils of all kinds: disgrace, for instance, poverty,
disease, desolateness, death; but not all these seem to be the
object-matter of the Brave man, because there are things which to fear
is right and noble, and not to fear is base; disgrace, for example,
since he who fears this is a good man and has a sense of honour, and he
who does not fear it is shameless (though there are those who call him
Brave by analogy, because he somewhat resembles the Brave man who
agrees with him in being free from fear); but poverty, perhaps, or
disease, and in fact whatever does not proceed from viciousness, nor is
attributable to his own fault, a man ought not to fear: still, being
fearless in respect of these would not constitute a man Brave in the
proper sense of the term.
Yet we do apply the term in right of the similarity of the cases;
for there are men who, though timid in the dangers of war, are liberal
men and are stout enough to face loss of wealth.
And, again, a man is not a coward for fearing insult to his wife or
children, or envy, or any such thing; nor is he a Brave man for being
bold when going to be scourged.
What kind of fearful things then do constitute the object-matter of the
Brave man? first of all, must they not be the greatest, since no man is
more apt to withstand what is dreadful. Now the object of the greatest
dread is death, because it is the end of all things, and the dead man
is thought to be capable neither of good nor evil. Still it would seem
that the Brave man has not for his object-matter even death in every
circumstance; on the sea, for example, or in sickness: in what
circumstances then? must it not be in the most honourable? now such is
death in war, because it is death in the greatest and most honourable
danger; and this is confirmed by the honours awarded in communities,
and by monarchs.
He then may be most properly denominated Brave who is fearless in
respect of honourable death and such sudden emergencies as threaten
death; now such specially are those which arise in the course of war.
It is not meant but that the Brave man will be fearless also on the sea
(and in sickness), but not in the same way as sea-faring men; for these
are light-hearted and hopeful by reason of their experience, while
landsmen though Brave are apt to give themselves up for lost and
shudder at the notion of such a death: to which it should be added that
Courage is exerted in circumstances which admit of doing something to
help one’s self, or in which death would be honourable; now neither of
these requisites attach to destruction by drowning or sickness.
Again, fearful is a term of relation, the same thing not being so to
all, and there is according to common parlance somewhat so fearful as
to be beyond human endurance: this of course would be fearful to every
man of sense, but those objects which are level to the capacity of man
differ in magnitude and admit of degrees, so too the objects of
confidence or boldness.
Now the Brave man cannot be frighted from his propriety (but of course
only so far as he is man); fear such things indeed he will, but he will
stand up against them as he ought and as right reason may direct, with
a view to what is honourable, because this is the end of the virtue.
Now it is possible to fear these things too much, or too little, or
again to fear what is not really fearful as if it were such. So the
errors come to be either that a man fears when he ought not to fear at
all, or that he fears in an improper way, or at a wrong time, and so
forth; and so too in respect of things inspiring confidence. He is
Brave then who withstands, and fears, and is bold, in respect of right
objects, from a right motive, in right manner, and at right times:
since the Brave man suffers or acts as he ought and as right reason may
direct.
Now the end of every separate act of working is that which accords with
the habit, and so to the Brave man Courage; which is honourable;
therefore such is also the End, since the character of each is
determined by the End.
So honour is the motive from which the Brave man withstands things
fearful and performs the acts which accord with Courage.
Of the characters on the side of Excess, he who exceeds in utter
absence of fear has no appropriate name (I observed before that many
states have none), but he would be a madman or inaccessible to pain if
he feared nothing, neither earthquake, nor the billows, as they tell of
the Celts.
He again who exceeds in confidence in respect of things fearful is
rash. He is thought moreover to be a braggart, and to advance unfounded
claims to the character of Brave: the relation which the Brave man
really bears to objects of fear this man wishes to appear to bear, and
so imitates him in whatever points he can; for this reason most of them
exhibit a curious mixture of rashness and cowardice; because, affecting
rashness in these circumstances, they do not withstand what is truly
fearful.
The man moreover who exceeds in feeling fear is a coward, since there
attach to him the circumstances of fearing wrong objects, in wrong
ways, and so forth. He is deficient also in feeling confidence, but he
is most clearly seen as exceeding in the case of pains; he is a
fainthearted kind of man, for he fears all things: the Brave man is
just the contrary, for boldness is the property of the light-hearted
and hopeful.
So the coward, the rash, and the Brave man have exactly the same
object-matter, but stand differently related to it: the two
first-mentioned respectively exceed and are deficient, the last is in a
mean state and as he ought to be. The rash again are precipitate, and,
being eager before danger, when actually in it fall away, while the
Brave are quick and sharp in action, but before are quiet and composed.
Well then, as has been said, Courage is a mean state in respect of
objects inspiring boldness or fear, in the circumstances which have
been stated, and the Brave man chooses his line and withstands danger
either because to do so is honourable, or because not to do so is base.
But dying to escape from poverty, or the pangs of love, or anything
that is simply painful, is the act not of a Brave man but of a coward;
because it is mere softness to fly from what is toilsome, and the
suicide braves the terrors of death not because it is honourable but to
get out of the reach of evil.
Courage proper is somewhat of the kind I have described, but there are
dispositions, differing in five ways, which also bear in common
parlance the name of Courage.
We will take first that which bears most resemblance to the true, the
Courage of Citizenship, so named because the motives which are thought
to actuate the members of a community in braving danger are the
penalties and disgrace held out by the laws to cowardice, and the
dignities conferred on the Brave; which is thought to be the reason why
those are the bravest people among whom cowards are visited with
disgrace and the Brave held in honour.
Such is the kind of Courage Homer exhibits in his characters; Diomed
and Hector for example. The latter says,
“Polydamas will be the first to fix
Disgrace upon me.”
Diomed again,
“For Hector surely will hereafter say,
Speaking in Troy, Tydides by my hand”—
This I say most nearly resembles the Courage before spoken of, because
it arises from virtue, from a feeling of shame, and a desire of what is
noble (that is, of honour), and avoidance of disgrace which is base.
In the same rank one would be inclined to place those also who act
under compulsion from their commanders; yet are they really lower,
because not a sense of honour but fear is the motive from which they
act, and what they seek to avoid is not that which is base but that
which is simply painful: commanders do in fact compel their men
sometimes, as Hector says (to quote Homer again),
“But whomsoever I shall find cowering afar from the fight,
The teeth of dogs he shall by no means escape.”
Those commanders who station staunch troops by doubtful ones, or
who beat their men if they flinch, or who draw their troops up in line
with the trenches, or other similar obstacles, in their rear, do in
effect the same as Hector, for they all use compulsion.
But a man is to be Brave, not on compulsion, but from a sense of
honour.
In the next place, Experience and Skill in the various particulars is
thought to be a species of Courage: whence Socrates also thought that
Courage was knowledge.
This quality is exhibited of course by different men under different
circumstances, but in warlike matters, with which we are now concerned,
it is exhibited by the soldiers (“the regulars”): for there are, it
would seem, many things in war of no real importance which these
have been constantly used to see; so they have a show of Courage
because other people are not aware of the real nature of these things.
Then again by reason of their skill they are better able than any
others to inflict without suffering themselves, because they are able
to use their arms and have such as are most serviceable both with a
view to offence and defence: so that their case is parallel to that of
armed men fighting with unarmed or trained athletes with amateurs,
since in contests of this kind those are the best fighters, not who are
the bravest men, but who are the strongest and are in the best
condition.
In fact, the regular troops come to be cowards whenever the danger is
greater than their means of meeting it; supposing, for example, that
they are inferior in numbers and resources: then they are the first to
fly, but the mere militia stand and fall on the ground (which as you
know really happened at the Hermæum), for in the eyes of these
flight was disgraceful and death preferable to safety bought at such a
price: while “the regulars” originally went into the danger under a
notion of their own superiority, but on discovering their error they
took to flight, having greater fear of death than of disgrace; but
this is not the feeling of the Brave man.
Thirdly, mere Animal Spirit is sometimes brought under the term
Courage: they are thought to be Brave who are carried on by mere Animal
Spirit, as are wild beasts against those who have wounded them, because
in fact the really Brave have much Spirit, there being nothing like it
for going at danger of any kind; whence those frequent expressions in
Homer, “infused strength into his spirit,” “roused his strength and
spirit,” or again, “and keen strength in his nostrils,” “his blood
boiled:” for all these seem to denote the arousing and impetuosity of
the Animal Spirit.
Now they that are truly Brave act from a sense of honour, and this
Animal Spirit co-operates with them; but wild beasts from pain, that is
because they have been wounded, or are frightened; since if they are
quietly in their own haunts, forest or marsh, they do not attack men.
Surely they are not Brave because they rush into danger when goaded on
by pain and mere Spirit, without any view of the danger: else would
asses be Brave when they are hungry, for though beaten they will not
then leave their pasture: profligate men besides do many bold actions
by reason of their lust. We may conclude then that they are not Brave
who are goaded on to meet danger by pain and mere Spirit; but still
this temper which arises from Animal Spirit appears to be most natural,
and would be Courage of the true kind if it could have added to it
moral choice and the proper motive.
So men also are pained by a feeling of anger, and take pleasure in
revenge; but they who fight from these causes may be good fighters, but
they are not truly Brave (in that they do not act from a sense of
honour, nor as reason directs, but merely from the present feeling),
still they bear some resemblance to that character.
Nor, again, are the Sanguine and Hopeful therefore Brave: since their
boldness in dangers arises from their frequent victories over numerous
foes. The two characters are alike, however, in that both are
confident; but then the Brave are so from the afore-mentioned causes,
whereas these are so from a settled conviction of their being superior
and not likely to suffer anything in return (they who are intoxicated
do much the same, for they become hopeful when in that state); but when
the event disappoints their expectations they run away: now it was said
to be the character of a Brave man to withstand things which are
fearful to man or produce that impression, because it is honourable so
to do and the contrary is dishonourable.
For this reason it is thought to be a greater proof of Courage to be
fearless and undisturbed under the pressure of sudden fear than under
that which may be anticipated, because Courage then comes rather from a
fixed habit, or less from preparation: since as to foreseen dangers a
man might take his line even from calculation and reasoning, but in
those which are sudden he will do so according to his fixed habit of
mind.
Fifthly and lastly, those who are acting under Ignorance have a show of
Courage and are not very far from the Hopeful; but still they are
inferior inasmuch as they have no opinion of themselves; which the
others have, and therefore stay and contest a field for some little
time; but they who have been deceived fly the moment they know things
to be otherwise than they supposed, which the Argives experienced when
they fell on the Lacedæmonians, taking them for the men of Sicyon.
We have described then what kind of men the Brave are, and what they
who are thought to be, but are not really, Brave.
It must be remarked, however, that though Courage has for its
object-matter boldness and fear it has not both equally so, but objects
of fear much more than the former; for he that under pressure of these
is undisturbed and stands related to them as he ought is better
entitled to the name of Brave than he who is properly affected towards
objects of confidence. So then men are termed Brave for withstanding
painful things.
It follows that Courage involves pain and is justly praised, since it
is a harder matter to withstand things that are painful than to abstain
from such as are pleasant.
It must not be thought but that the End and object of Courage is
pleasant, but it is obscured by the surrounding circumstances: which
happens also in the gymnastic games; to the boxers the End is pleasant
with a view to which they act, I mean the crown and the honours; but
the receiving the blows they do is painful and annoying to flesh and
blood, and so is all the labour they have to undergo; and, as these
drawbacks are many, the object in view being small appears to have no
pleasantness in it.
If then we may say the same of Courage, of course death and wounds must
be painful to the Brave man and against his will: still he endures
these because it is honourable so to do or because it is dishonourable
not to do so. And the more complete his virtue and his happiness so
much the more will he be pained at the notion of death: since to such a
man as he is it is best worth while to live, and he with full
consciousness is deprived of the greatest goods by death, and this is a
painful idea. But he is not the less Brave for feeling it to be so, nay
rather it may be he is shown to be more so because he chooses the
honour that may be reaped in war in preference to retaining safe
possession of these other goods. The fact is that to act with pleasure
does not belong to all the virtues, except so far as a man realises the
End of his actions.
But there is perhaps no reason why not such men should make the best
soldiers, but those who are less truly Brave but have no other good to
care for: these being ready to meet danger and bartering their lives
against small gain.
Let thus much be accepted as sufficient on the subject of Courage; the
true nature of which it is not difficult to gather, in outline at
least, from what has been said.
Next let us speak of Perfected Self-Mastery, which seems to claim the
next place to Courage, since these two are the Excellences of the
Irrational part of the Soul.
That it is a mean state, having for its object-matter Pleasures, we
have already said (Pains being in fact its object-matter in a less
degree and dissimilar manner), the state of utter absence of
self-control has plainly the same object-matter; the next thing then is
to determine what kind of Pleasures.
Let Pleasures then be understood to be divided into mental and bodily:
instances of the former being love of honour or of learning: it being
plain that each man takes pleasure in that of these two objects which
he has a tendency to like, his body being no way affected but rather
his intellect. Now men are not called perfectly self-mastering or
wholly destitute of self-control in respect of pleasures of this class:
nor in fact in respect of any which are not bodily; those for example
who love to tell long stories, and are prosy, and spend their days
about mere chance matters, we call gossips but not wholly destitute of
self-control, nor again those who are pained at the loss of money or
friends.
It is bodily Pleasures then which are the object-matter of Perfected
Self-Mastery, but not even all these indifferently: I mean, that they
who take pleasure in objects perceived by the Sight, as colours, and
forms, and painting, are not denominated men of Perfected Self-Mastery,
or wholly destitute of self-control; and yet it would seem that one may
take pleasure even in such objects, as one ought to do, or excessively,
or too little.
So too of objects perceived by the sense of Hearing; no one applies the
terms before quoted respectively to those who are excessively pleased
with musical tunes or acting, or to those who take such pleasure as
they ought.
Nor again to those persons whose pleasure arises from the sense of
Smell, except incidentally: I mean, we do not say men have no
self-control because they take pleasure in the scent of fruit, or
flowers, or incense, but rather when they do so in the smells of
unguents and sauces: since men destitute of self-control take pleasure
herein, because hereby the objects of their lusts are recalled to their
imagination (you may also see other men take pleasure in the smell of
food when they are hungry): but to take pleasure in such is a mark of
the character before named since these are objects of desire to him.
Now not even brutes receive pleasure in right of these senses, except
incidentally. I mean, it is not the scent of hares’ flesh but the
eating it which dogs take pleasure in, perception of which pleasure is
caused by the sense of Smell. Or again, it is not the lowing of the ox
but eating him which the lion likes; but of the fact of his nearness
the lion is made sensible by the lowing, and so he appears to take
pleasure in this. In like manner, he has no pleasure in merely seeing
or finding a stag or wild goat, but in the prospect of a meal.
The habits of Perfect Self-Mastery and entire absence of self-control
have then for their object-matter such pleasures as brutes also share
in, for which reason they are plainly servile and brutish: they are
Touch and Taste.
But even Taste men seem to make little or no use of; for to the sense
of Taste belongs the distinguishing of flavours; what men do, in fact,
who are testing the quality of wines or seasoning “made dishes.”
But men scarcely take pleasure at all in these things, at least those
whom we call destitute of self-control do not, but only in the actual
enjoyment which arises entirely from the sense of Touch, whether in
eating or in drinking, or in grosser lusts. This accounts for the wish
said to have been expressed once by a great glutton, “that his throat
had been formed longer than a crane’s neck,” implying that his pleasure
was derived from the Touch.
The sense then with which is connected the habit of absence of
self-control is the most common of all the senses, and this habit would
seem to be justly a matter of reproach, since it attaches to us not in
so far as we are men but in so far as we are animals. Indeed it is
brutish to take pleasure in such things and to like them best of all;
for the most respectable of the pleasures arising from the touch have
been set aside; those, for instance, which occur in the course of
gymnastic training from the rubbing and the warm bath: because the
touch of the man destitute of self-control is not indifferently of
any part of the body but only of particular parts.
Now of lusts or desires some are thought to be universal, others
peculiar and acquired; thus desire for food is natural since every one
who really needs desires also food, whether solid or liquid, or both
(and, as Homer says, the man in the prime of youth needs and desires
intercourse with the other sex); but when we come to this or that
particular kind, then neither is the desire universal nor in all men is
it directed to the same objects. And therefore the conceiving of such
desires plainly attaches to us as individuals. It must be admitted,
however, that there is something natural in it: because different
things are pleasant to different men and a preference of some
particular objects to chance ones is universal. Well then, in the case
of the desires which are strictly and properly natural few men go wrong
and all in one direction, that is, on the side of too much: I mean, to
eat and drink of such food as happens to be on the table till one is
overfilled is exceeding in quantity the natural limit, since the
natural desire is simply a supply of a real deficiency.
For this reason these men are called belly-mad, as filling it beyond
what they ought, and it is the slavish who become of this character.
But in respect of the peculiar pleasures many men go wrong and in many
different ways; for whereas the term “fond of so and so” implies either
taking pleasure in wrong objects, or taking pleasure excessively, or as
the mass of men do, or in a wrong way, they who are destitute of all
self-control exceed in all these ways; that is to say, they take
pleasure in some things in which they ought not to do so (because they
are properly objects of detestation), and in such as it is right to
take pleasure in they do so more than they ought and as the mass of men
do.
Well then, that excess with respect to pleasures is absence of
self-control, and blameworthy, is plain. But viewing these habits on
the side of pains, we find that a man is not said to have the virtue
for withstanding them (as in the case of Courage), nor the vice for not
withstanding them; but the man destitute of self-control is such,
because he is pained more than he ought to be at not obtaining things
which are pleasant (and thus his pleasure produces pain to him), and
the man of Perfected Self-Mastery is such in virtue of not being pained
by their absence, that is, by having to abstain from what is pleasant.
Now the man destitute of self-control desires either all pleasant
things indiscriminately or those which are specially pleasant, and he
is impelled by his desire to choose these things in preference to all
others; and this involves pain, not only when he misses the attainment
of his objects but, in the very desiring them, since all desire is
accompanied by pain. Surely it is a strange case this, being pained by
reason of pleasure.
As for men who are defective on the side of pleasure, who take less
pleasure in things than they ought, they are almost imaginary
characters, because such absence of sensual perception is not natural
to man: for even the other animals distinguish between different kinds
of food, and like some kinds and dislike others. In fact, could a man
be found who takes no pleasure in anything and to whom all things are
alike, he would be far from being human at all: there is no name for
such a character because it is simply imaginary.
But the man of Perfected Self-Mastery is in the mean with respect to
these objects: that is to say, he neither takes pleasure in the things
which delight the vicious man, and in fact rather dislikes them, nor at
all in improper objects; nor to any great degree in any object of the
class; nor is he pained at their absence; nor does he desire them; or,
if he does, only in moderation, and neither more than he ought, nor at
improper times, and so forth; but such things as are conducive to
health and good condition of body, being also pleasant, these he will
grasp at in moderation and as he ought to do, and also such other
pleasant things as do not hinder these objects, and are not unseemly or
disproportionate to his means; because he that should grasp at such
would be liking such pleasures more than is proper; but the man of
Perfected Self-Mastery is not of this character, but regulates his
desires by the dictates of right reason.
Now the vice of being destitute of all Self-Control seems to be more
truly voluntary than Cowardice, because pleasure is the cause of the
former and pain of the latter, and pleasure is an object of choice,
pain of avoidance. And again, pain deranges and spoils the natural
disposition of its victim, whereas pleasure has no such effect and is
more voluntary and therefore more justly open to reproach.
It is so also for the following reason; that it is easier to be inured
by habit to resist the objects of pleasure, there being many things of
this kind in life and the process of habituation being unaccompanied by
danger; whereas the case is the reverse as regards the objects of fear.
Again, Cowardice as a confirmed habit would seem to be voluntary in a
different way from the particular instances which form the habit;
because it is painless, but these derange the man by reason of pain so
that he throws away his arms and otherwise behaves himself unseemly,
for which reason they are even thought by some to exercise a power of
compulsion.
But to the man destitute of Self-Control the particular instances are
on the contrary quite voluntary, being done with desire and direct
exertion of the will, but the general result is less voluntary: since
no man desires to form the habit.
The name of this vice (which signifies etymologically unchastened-ness)
we apply also to the faults of children, there being a certain
resemblance between the cases: to which the name is primarily applied,
and to which secondarily or derivatively, is not relevant to the
present subject, but it is evident that the later in point of time must
get the name from the earlier. And the metaphor seems to be a very good
one; for whatever grasps after base things, and is liable to great
increase, ought to be chastened; and to this description desire and the
child answer most truly, in that children also live under the direction
of desire and the grasping after what is pleasant is most prominently
seen in these.
Unless then the appetite be obedient and subjected to the governing
principle it will become very great: for in the fool the grasping after
what is pleasant is insatiable and undiscriminating; and every acting
out of the desire increases the kindred habit, and if the desires are
great and violent in degree they even expel Reason entirely; therefore
they ought to be moderate and few, and in no respect to be opposed to
Reason. Now when the appetite is in such a state we denominate it
obedient and chastened.
In short, as the child ought to live with constant regard to the orders
of its educator, so should the appetitive principle with regard to
those of Reason.
So then in the man of Perfected Self-Mastery, the appetitive principle
must be accordant with Reason: for what is right is the mark at which
both principles aim: that is to say, the man of perfected self-mastery
desires what he ought in right manner and at right times, which is
exactly what Reason directs. Let this be taken for our account of
Perfected Self-Mastery.
We will next speak of Liberality. Now this is thought to be the mean
state, having for its object-matter Wealth: I mean, the Liberal man is
praised not in the circumstances of war, nor in those which constitute
the character of perfected self-mastery, nor again in judicial
decisions, but in respect of giving and receiving Wealth, chiefly the
former. By the term Wealth I mean “all those things whose worth is
measured by money.”
Now the states of excess and defect in regard of Wealth are
respectively Prodigality and Stinginess: the latter of these terms we
attach invariably to those who are over careful about Wealth, but the
former we apply sometimes with a complex notion; that is to say, we
give the name to those who fail of self-control and spend money on the
unrestrained gratification of their passions; and this is why they are
thought to be most base, because they have many vices at once.
It must be noted, however, that this is not a strict and proper use of
the term, since its natural etymological meaning is to denote him who
has one particular evil, viz. the wasting his substance: he is unsaved
(as the term literally denotes) who is wasting away by his own fault;
and this he really may be said to be; the destruction of his substance
is thought to be a kind of wasting of himself, since these things are
the means of living. Well, this is our acceptation of the term
Prodigality.
Again. Whatever things are for use may be used well or ill, and Wealth
belongs to this class. He uses each particular thing best who has the
virtue to whose province it belongs: so that he will use Wealth best
who has the virtue respecting Wealth, that is to say, the Liberal man.
Expenditure and giving are thought to be the using of money, but
receiving and keeping one would rather call the possessing of it. And
so the giving to proper persons is more characteristic of the Liberal
man, than the receiving from proper quarters and forbearing to receive
from the contrary. In fact generally, doing well by others is more
characteristic of virtue than being done well by, and doing things
positively honourable than forbearing to do things dishonourable; and
any one may see that the doing well by others and doing things
positively honourable attaches to the act of giving, but to that of
receiving only the being done well by or forbearing to do what is
dishonourable.
Besides, thanks are given to him who gives, not to him who merely
forbears to receive, and praise even more. Again, forbearing to receive
is easier than giving, the case of being too little freehanded with
one’s own being commoner than taking that which is not one’s own.
And again, it is they who give that are denominated Liberal, while they
who forbear to receive are commended, not on the score of Liberality
but of just dealing, while for receiving men are not, in fact, praised
at all.
And the Liberal are liked almost best of all virtuous characters,
because they are profitable to others, and this their profitableness
consists in their giving.
Furthermore: all the actions done in accordance with virtue are
honourable, and done from the motive of honour: and the Liberal man,
therefore, will give from a motive of honour, and will give rightly; I
mean, to proper persons, in right proportion, at right times, and
whatever is included in the term “right giving:” and this too with
positive pleasure, or at least without pain, since whatever is done in
accordance with virtue is pleasant or at least not unpleasant, most
certainly not attended with positive pain.
But the man who gives to improper people, or not from a motive of
honour but from some other cause, shall be called not Liberal but
something else. Neither shall he be so denominated who does it with
pain: this being a sign that he would prefer his wealth to the
honourable action, and this is no part of the Liberal man’s character;
neither will such an one receive from improper sources, because the so
receiving is not characteristic of one who values not wealth: nor again
will he be apt to ask, because one who does kindnesses to others does
not usually receive them willingly; but from proper sources (his own
property, for instance) he will receive, doing this not as honourable
but as necessary, that he may have somewhat to give: neither will he be
careless of his own, since it is his wish through these to help others
in need: nor will he give to chance people, that he may have wherewith
to give to those to whom he ought, at right times, and on occasions
when it is honourable so to do.
Again, it is a trait in the Liberal man’s character even to exceed very
much in giving so as to leave too little for himself, it being
characteristic of such an one not to have a thought of self.
Now Liberality is a term of relation to a man’s means, for the
Liberal-ness depends not on the amount of what is given but on the
moral state of the giver which gives in proportion to his means. There
is then no reason why he should not be the more Liberal man who gives
the less amount, if he has less to give out of.
Again, they are thought to be more Liberal who have inherited, not
acquired for themselves, their means; because, in the first place, they
have never experienced want, and next, all people love most their own
works, just as parents do and poets.
It is not easy for the Liberal man to be rich, since he is neither apt
to receive nor to keep but to lavish, and values not wealth for its own
sake but with a view to giving it away. Hence it is commonly charged
upon fortune that they who most deserve to be rich are least so. Yet
this happens reasonably enough; it is impossible he should have wealth
who does not take any care to have it, just as in any similar case.
Yet he will not give to improper people, nor at wrong times, and so on:
because he would not then be acting in accordance with Liberality, and
if he spent upon such objects, would have nothing to spend on those on
which he ought: for, as I have said before, he is Liberal who spends in
proportion to his means, and on proper objects, while he who does so in
excess is prodigal (this is the reason why we never call despots
prodigal, because it does not seem to be easy for them by their gifts
and expenditure to go beyond their immense possessions).
To sum up then. Since Liberality is a mean state in respect of the
giving and receiving of wealth, the Liberal man will give and spend on
proper objects, and in proper proportion, in great things and in small
alike, and all this with pleasure to himself; also he will receive from
right sources, and in right proportion: because, as the virtue is a
mean state in respect of both, he will do both as he ought, and, in
fact, upon proper giving follows the correspondent receiving, while
that which is not such is contrary to it. (Now those which follow one
another come to co-exist in the same person, those which are contraries
plainly do not.)
Again, should it happen to him to spend money beyond what is needful,
or otherwise than is well, he will be vexed, but only moderately and as
he ought; for feeling pleasure and pain at right objects, and in right
manner, is a property of Virtue.
The Liberal man is also a good man to have for a partner in respect of
wealth: for he can easily be wronged, since he values not wealth, and
is more vexed at not spending where he ought to have done so than at
spending where he ought not, and he relishes not the maxim of
Simonides.
But the Prodigal man goes wrong also in these points, for he is neither
pleased nor pained at proper objects or in proper manner, which will
become more plain as we proceed.
We have said already that Prodigality and Stinginess are respectively
states of excess and defect, and this in two things, giving and
receiving (expenditure of course we class under giving). Well now,
Prodigality exceeds in giving and forbearing to receive and is
deficient in receiving, while Stinginess is deficient in giving and
exceeds in receiving, but it is in small things.
The two parts of Prodigality, to be sure, do not commonly go together;
it is not easy, I mean, to give to all if you receive from none,
because private individuals thus giving will soon find their means run
short, and such are in fact thought to be prodigal. He that should
combine both would seem to be no little superior to the Stingy man: for
he may be easily cured, both by advancing in years, and also by the
want of means, and he may come thus to the mean: he has, you see,
already the facts of the Liberal man, he gives and forbears to
receive, only he does neither in right manner or well. So if he could
be wrought upon by habituation in this respect, or change in any other
way, he would be a real Liberal man, for he will give to those to whom
he should, and will forbear to receive whence he ought not. This is the
reason too why he is thought not to be low in moral character, because
to exceed in giving and in forbearing to receive is no sign of badness
or meanness, but only of folly.
Well then, he who is Prodigal in this fashion is thought far superior
to the Stingy man for the aforementioned reasons, and also because he
does good to many, but the Stingy man to no one, not even to himself.
But most Prodigals, as has been said, combine with their other faults
that of receiving from improper sources, and on this point are Stingy:
and they become grasping, because they wish to spend and cannot do this
easily, since their means soon run short and they are necessitated to
get from some other quarter; and then again, because they care not for
what is honourable, they receive recklessly, and from all sources
indifferently, because they desire to give but care not how or whence.
And for this reason their givings are not Liberal, inasmuch as they are
not honourable, nor purely disinterested, nor done in right fashion;
but they oftentimes make those rich who should be poor, and to those
who are quiet respectable kind of people they will give nothing, but to
flatterers, or those who subserve their pleasures in any way, they will
give much. And therefore most of them are utterly devoid of
self-restraint; for as they are open-handed they are liberal in
expenditure upon the unrestrained gratification of their passions, and
turn off to their pleasures because they do not live with reference to
what is honourable.
Thus then the Prodigal, if unguided, slides into these faults; but if
he could get care bestowed on him he might come to the mean and to what
is right.
Stinginess, on the contrary, is incurable: old age, for instance, and
incapacity of any kind, is thought to make people Stingy; and it is
more congenial to human nature than Prodigality, the mass of men being
fond of money rather than apt to give: moreover it extends far and has
many phases, the modes of stinginess being thought to be many. For as
it consists of two things, defect of giving and excess of receiving,
everybody does not have it entire, but it is sometimes divided, and one
class of persons exceed in receiving, the other are deficient in
giving. I mean those who are designated by such appellations as
sparing, close-fisted, niggards, are all deficient in giving; but other
men’s property they neither desire nor are willing to receive, in some
instances from a real moderation and shrinking from what is base.
There are some people whose motive, either supposed or alleged, for
keeping their property is this, that they may never be driven to do
anything dishonourable: to this class belongs the skinflint, and every
one of similar character, so named from the excess of not-giving.
Others again decline to receive their neighbour’s goods from a motive
of fear; their notion being that it is not easy to take other people’s
things yourself without their taking yours: so they are content neither
to receive nor give.
The other class again who are Stingy in respect of receiving exceed in
that they receive anything from any source; such as they who work at
illiberal employments, brothel keepers, and such-like, and usurers who
lend small sums at large interest: for all these receive from improper
sources, and improper amounts. Their common characteristic is
base-gaining, since they all submit to disgrace for the sake of gain
and that small; because those who receive great things neither whence
they ought, nor what they ought (as for instance despots who sack
cities and plunder temples), we denominate wicked, impious, and unjust,
but not Stingy.
Now the dicer and bath-plunderer and the robber belong to the class of
the Stingy, for they are given to base gain: both busy themselves and
submit to disgrace for the sake of gain, and the one class incur the
greatest dangers for the sake of their booty, while the others make
gain of their friends to whom they ought to be giving.
So both classes, as wishing to make gain from improper sources, are
given to base gain, and all such receivings are Stingy. And with good
reason is Stinginess called the contrary of Liberality: both because it
is a greater evil than Prodigality, and because men err rather in this
direction than in that of the Prodigality which we have spoken of as
properly and completely such.
Let this be considered as what we have to say respecting Liberality and
the contrary vices.
Next in order would seem to come a dissertation on Magnificence, this
being thought to be, like liberality, a virtue having for its
object-matter Wealth; but it does not, like that, extend to all
transactions in respect of Wealth, but only applies to such as are
expensive, and in these circumstances it exceeds liberality in respect
of magnitude, because it is (what the very name in Greek hints at)
fitting expense on a large scale: this term is of course relative: I
mean, the expenditure of equipping and commanding a trireme is not the
same as that of giving a public spectacle: “fitting” of course also is
relative to the individual, and the matter wherein and upon which he
has to spend. And a man is not denominated Magnificent for spending as
he should do in small or ordinary things, as, for instance,
“Oft to the wandering beggar did I give,”
but for doing so in great matters: that is to say, the Magnificent man
is liberal, but the liberal is not thereby Magnificent. The falling
short of such a state is called Meanness, the exceeding it Vulgar
Profusion, Want of Taste, and so on; which are faulty, not because they
are on an excessive scale in respect of right objects but, because they
show off in improper objects, and in improper manner: of these we will
speak presently. The Magnificent man is like a man of skill, because he
can see what is fitting, and can spend largely in good taste; for, as
we said at the commencement, the confirmed habit is determined by the
separate acts of working, and by its object-matter.
Well, the expenses of the Magnificent man are great and fitting: such
also are his works (because this secures the expenditure being not
great merely, but befitting the work). So then the work is to be
proportionate to the expense, and this again to the work, or even above
it: and the Magnificent man will incur such expenses from the motive of
honour, this being common to all the virtues, and besides he will do it
with pleasure and lavishly; excessive accuracy in calculation being
Mean. He will consider also how a thing may be done most beautifully
and fittingly, rather, than for how much it may be done, and how at the
least expense.
So the Magnificent man must be also a liberal man, because the liberal
man will also spend what he ought, and in right manner: but it is the
Great, that is to say tke large scale, which is distinctive of the
Magnificent man, the object-matter of liberality being the same, and
without spending more money than another man he will make the work more
magnificent. I mean, the excellence of a possession and of a work is
not the same: as a piece of property that thing is most valuable which
is worth most, gold for instance; but as a work that which is great and
beautiful, because the contemplation of such an object is admirable,
and so is that which is Magnificent. So the excellence of a work is
Magnificence on a large scale. There are cases of expenditure which we
call honourable, such as are dedicatory offerings to the gods, and the
furnishing their temples, and sacrifices, and in like manner everything
that has reference to the Deity, and all such public matters as are
objects of honourable ambition, as when men think in any case that it
is their duty to furnish a chorus for the stage splendidly, or fit out
and maintain a trireme, or give a general public feast.
Now in all these, as has been already stated, respect is had also to
the rank and the means of the man who is doing them: because they
should be proportionate to these, and befit not the work only but also
the doer of the work. For this reason a poor man cannot be a
Magnificent man, since he has not means wherewith to spend largely and
yet becomingly; and if he attempts it he is a fool, inasmuch as it is
out of proportion and contrary to propriety, whereas to be in
accordance with virtue a thing must be done rightly.
Such expenditure is fitting moreover for those to whom such things
previously belong, either through themselves or through their ancestors
or people with whom they are connected, and to the high-born or people
of high repute, and so on: because all these things imply greatness and
reputation.
So then the Magnificent man is pretty much as I have described him, and
Magnificence consists in such expenditures: because they are the
greatest and most honourable: and of private ones such as come but once
for all, marriage to wit, and things of that kind; and any occasion
which engages the interest of the community in general, or of those who
are in power; and what concerns receiving and despatching strangers;
and gifts, and repaying gifts: because the Magnificent man is not apt
to spend upon himself but on the public good, and gifts are pretty much
in the same case as dedicatory offerings.
It is characteristic also of the Magnificent man to furnish his house
suitably to his wealth, for this also in a way reflects credit; and
again, to spend rather upon such works as are of long duration, these
being most honourable. And again, propriety in each case, because the
same things are not suitable to gods and men, nor in a temple and a
tomb. And again, in the case of expenditures, each must be great of its
kind, and great expense on a great object is most magnificent, that is
in any case what is great in these particular things.
There is a difference too between greatness of a work and greatness of
expenditure: for instance, a very beautiful ball or cup is magnificent
as a present to a child, while the price of it is small and almost
mean. Therefore it is characteristic of the Magnificent man to do
magnificently whatever he is about: for whatever is of this kind cannot
be easily surpassed, and bears a proper proportion to the expenditure.
Such then is the Magnificent man.
The man who is in the state of excess, called one of Vulgar Profusion,
is in excess because he spends improperly, as has been said. I mean in
cases requiring small expenditure he lavishes much and shows off out of
taste; giving his club a feast fit for a wedding-party, or if he has to
furnish a chorus for a comedy, giving the actors purple to wear in the
first scene, as did the Megarians. And all such things he will do, not
with a view to that which is really honourable, but to display his
wealth, and because he thinks he shall be admired for these things; and
he will spend little where he ought to spend much, and much where he
should spend little.
The Mean man will be deficient in every case, and even where he has
spent the most he will spoil the whole effect for want of some trifle;
he is procrastinating in all he does, and contrives how he may spend
the least, and does even that with lamentations about the expense, and
thinking that he does all things on a greater scale than he ought.
Of course, both these states are faulty, but they do not involve
disgrace because they are neither hurtful to others nor very unseemly.
The very name of Great-mindedness implies, that great things are its
object-matter; and we will first settle what kind of things. It makes
no difference, of course, whether we regard the moral state in the
abstract or as exemplified in an individual.
Well then, he is thought to be Great-minded who values himself highly
and at the same time justly, because he that does so without grounds is
foolish, and no virtuous character is foolish or senseless. Well, the
character I have described is Great-minded. The man who estimates
himself lowly, and at the same time justly, is modest; but not
Great-minded, since this latter quality implies greatness, just as
beauty implies a large bodily conformation while small people are neat
and well made but not beautiful.
Again, he who values himself highly without just grounds is a Vain man:
though the name must not be applied to every case of unduly high
self-estimation. He that values himself below his real worth is
Small-minded, and whether that worth is great, moderate, or small, his
own estimate falls below it. And he is the strongest case of this error
who is really a man of great worth, for what would he have done had his
worth been less?
The Great-minded man is then, as far as greatness is concerned, at the
summit, but in respect of propriety he is in the mean, because he
estimates himself at his real value (the other characters respectively
are in excess and defect). Since then he justly estimates himself at a
high, or rather at the highest possible rate, his character will have
respect specially to one thing: this term “rate” has reference of
course to external goods: and of these we should assume that to be the
greatest which we attribute to the gods, and which is the special
object of desire to those who are in power, and which is the prize
proposed to the most honourable actions: now honour answers to these
descriptions, being the greatest of external goods. So the Great-minded
man bears himself as he ought in respect of honour and dishonour. In
fact, without need of words, the Great-minded plainly have honour for
their object-matter: since honour is what the great consider themselves
specially worthy of, and according to a certain rate.
The Small-minded man is deficient, both as regards himself, and also as
regards the estimation of the Great-minded: while the Vain man is in
excess as regards himself, but does not get beyond the Great-minded
man. Now the Great-minded man, being by the hypothesis worthy of the
greatest things, must be of the highest excellence, since the better a
man is the more is he worth, and he who is best is worth the most: it
follows then, that to be truly Great-minded a man must be good, and
whatever is great in each virtue would seem to belong to the
Great-minded. It would no way correspond with the character of the
Great-minded to flee spreading his hands all abroad; nor to injure any
one; for with what object in view will he do what is base, in whose
eyes nothing is great? in short, if one were to go into particulars,
the Great-minded man would show quite ludicrously unless he were a good
man: he would not be in fact deserving of honour if he were a bad man,
honour being the prize of virtue and given to the good.
This virtue, then, of Great-mindedness seems to be a kind of ornament
of all the other virtues, in that it makes them better and cannot be
without them; and for this reason it is a hard matter to be really and
truly Great-minded; for it cannot be without thorough goodness and
nobleness of character.
Honour then and dishonour are specially the object-matter of the
Great-minded man: and at such as is great, and given by good men, he
will be pleased moderately as getting his own, or perhaps somewhat less
for no honour can be quite adequate to perfect virtue: but still he
will accept this because they have nothing higher to give him. But such
as is given by ordinary people and on trifling grounds he will entirely
despise, because these do not come up to his deserts: and dishonour
likewise, because in his case there cannot be just ground for it.
Now though, as I have said, honour is specially the object-matter of
the Great-minded man, I do not mean but that likewise in respect of
wealth and power, and good or bad fortune of every kind, he will bear
himself with moderation, fall out how they may, and neither in
prosperity will he be overjoyed nor in adversity will he be unduly
pained. For not even in respect of honour does he so bear himself; and
yet it is the greatest of all such objects, since it is the cause of
power and wealth being choice-worthy, for certainly they who have them
desire to receive honour through them. So to whom honour even is a
small thing to him will all other things also be so; and this is why
such men are thought to be supercilious.
It seems too that pieces of good fortune contribute to form this
character of Great-mindedness: I mean, the nobly born, or men of
influence, or the wealthy, are considered to be entitled to honour, for
they are in a position of eminence and whatever is eminent by good is
more entitled to honour: and this is why such circumstances dispose men
rather to Great-mindedness, because they receive honour at the hands of
some men.
Now really and truly the good man alone is entitled to honour; only if
a man unites in himself goodness with these external advantages he is
thought to be more entitled to honour: but they who have them without
also having virtue are not justified in their high estimate of
themselves, nor are they rightly denominated Great-minded; since
perfect virtue is one of the indispensable conditions to such &
character.
Further, such men become supercilious and insolent, it not being easy
to bear prosperity well without goodness; and not being able to bear
it, and possessed with an idea of their own superiority to others, they
despise them, and do just whatever their fancy prompts; for they mimic
the Great-minded man, though they are not like him, and they do this in
such points as they can, so without doing the actions which can only
flow from real goodness they despise others. Whereas the Great-minded
man despises on good grounds (for he forms his opinions truly), but the
mass of men do it at random.
Moreover, he is not a man to incur little risks, nor does he court
danger, because there are but few things he has a value for; but he
will incur great dangers, and when he does venture he is prodigal of
his life as knowing that there are terms on which it is not worth his
while to live. He is the sort of man to do kindnesses, but he is
ashamed to receive them; the former putting a man in the position of
superiority, the latter in that of inferiority; accordingly he will
greatly overpay any kindness done to him, because the original actor
will thus be laid under obligation and be in the position of the party
benefited. Such men seem likewise to remember those they have done
kindnesses to, but not those from whom they have received them: because
he who has received is inferior to him who has done the kindness and
our friend wishes to be superior; accordingly he is pleased to hear of
his own kind acts but not of those done to himself (and this is why, in
Homer, Thetis does not mention to Jupiter the kindnesses she had done
him, nor did the Lacedæmonians to the Athenians but only the benefits
they had received).
Further, it is characteristic of the Great-minded man to ask favours
not at all, or very reluctantly, but to do a service very readily; and
to bear himself loftily towards the great or fortunate, but towards
people of middle station affably; because to be above the former is
difficult and so a grand thing, but to be above the latter is easy; and
to be high and mighty towards the former is not ignoble, but to do it
towards those of humble station would be low and vulgar; it would be
like parading strength against the weak.
And again, not to put himself in the way of honour, nor to go where
others are the chief men; and to be remiss and dilatory, except in the
case of some great honour or work; and to be concerned in few things,
and those great and famous. It is a property of him also to be open,
both in his dislikes and his likings, because concealment is a
consequent of fear. Likewise to be careful for reality rather than
appearance, and talk and act openly (for his contempt for others makes
him a bold man, for which same reason he is apt to speak the truth,
except where the principle of reserve comes in), but to be reserved
towards the generality of men.
And to be unable to live with reference to any other but a friend;
because doing so is servile, as may be seen in that all flatterers are
low and men in low estate are flatterers. Neither is his admiration
easily excited, because nothing is great in his eyes; nor does he bear
malice, since remembering anything, and specially wrongs, is no part of
Great-mindedness, but rather overlooking them; nor does he talk of
other men; in fact, he will not speak either of himself or of any
other; he neither cares to be praised himself nor to have others
blamed; nor again does he praise freely, and for this reason he is not
apt to speak ill even of his enemies except to show contempt and
insolence.
And he is by no means apt to make laments about things which cannot be
helped, or requests about those which are trivial; because to be thus
disposed with respect to these things is consequent only upon real
anxiety about them. Again, he is the kind of man to acquire what is
beautiful and unproductive rather than what is productive and
profitable: this being rather the part of an independent man.
Also slow motion, deep-toned voice, and deliberate style of speech, are
thought to be characteristic of the Great-minded man: for he who is
earnest about few things is not likely to be in a hurry, nor he who
esteems nothing great to be very intent: and sharp tones and quickness
are the result of these.
This then is my idea of the Great-minded man; and he who is in the
defect is a Small-minded man, he who is in the excess a Vain man.
However, as we observed in respect of the last character we discussed,
these extremes are not thought to be vicious exactly, but only
mistaken, for they do no harm.
The Small-minded man, for instance, being really worthy of good
deprives himself of his deserts, and seems to have somewhat faulty from
not having a sufficiently high estimate of his own desert, in fact from
self-ignorance: because, but for this, he would have grasped after what
he really is entitled to, and that is good. Still such characters are
not thought to be foolish, but rather laggards. But the having such an
opinion of themselves seems to have a deteriorating effect on the
character: because in all cases men’s aims are regulated by their
supposed desert, and thus these men, under a notion of their own want
of desert, stand aloof from honourable actions and courses, and
similarly from external goods.
But the Vain are foolish and self-ignorant, and that palpably: because
they attempt honourable things, as though they were worthy, and then
they are detected. They also set themselves off, by dress, and
carriage, and such-like things, and desire that their good
circumstances may be seen, and they talk of them under the notion of
receiving honour thereby. Small-mindedness rather than Vanity is
opposed to Great-mindedness, because it is more commonly met with and
is worse.
Well, the virtue of Great-mindedness has for its object great Honour,
as we have said: and there seems to be a virtue having Honour also for
its object (as we stated in the former book), which may seem to bear to
Great-mindedness the same relation that Liberality does to
Magnificence: that is, both these virtues stand aloof from what is
great but dispose us as we ought to be disposed towards moderate and
small matters. Further: as in giving and receiving of wealth there is a
mean state, an excess, and a defect, so likewise in grasping after
Honour there is the more or less than is right, and also the doing so
from right sources and in right manner.
For we blame the lover of Honour as aiming at Honour more than he
ought, and from wrong sources; and him who is destitute of a love of
Honour as not choosing to be honoured even for what is noble. Sometimes
again we praise the lover of Honour as manly and having a love for what
is noble, and him who has no love for it as being moderate and modest
(as we noticed also in the former discussion of these virtues).
It is clear then that since “Lover of so and so” is a term capable of
several meanings, we do not always denote the same quality by the term
“Lover of Honour;” but when we use it as a term of commendation we
denote more than the mass of men are; when for blame more than a man
should be.
And the mean state having no proper name the extremes seem to dispute
for it as unoccupied ground: but of course where there is excess and
defect there must be also the mean. And in point of fact, men do grasp
at Honour more than they should, and less, and sometimes just as they
ought; for instance, this state is praised, being a mean state in
regard of Honour, but without any appropriate name. Compared with what
is called Ambition it shows like a want of love for Honour, and
compared with this it shows like Ambition, or compared with both, like
both faults: nor is this a singular case among the virtues. Here the
extreme characters appear to be opposed, because the mean has no name
appropriated to it.
Meekness is a mean state, having for its object-matter Anger: and as
the character in the mean has no name, and we may almost say the same
of the extremes, we give the name of Meekness (leaning rather to the
defect, which has no name either) to the character in the mean.
The excess may be called an over-aptness to Anger: for the passion is
Anger, and the producing causes many and various. Now he who is angry
at what and with whom he ought, and further, in right manner and time,
and for proper length of time, is praised, so this Man will be Meek
since Meekness is praised. For the notion represented by the term Meek
man is the being imperturbable, and not being led away by passion, but
being angry in that manner, and at those things, and for that length of
time, which Reason may direct. This character however is thought to err
rather on the side of defect, inasmuch as he is not apt to take revenge
but rather to make allowances and forgive. And the defect, call it
Angerlessness or what you will, is blamed: I mean, they who are not
angry at things at which they ought to be angry are thought to be
foolish, and they who are angry not in right manner, nor in right time,
nor with those with whom they ought; for a man who labours under this
defect is thought to have no perception, nor to be pained, and to have
no tendency to avenge himself, inasmuch as he feels no anger: now to
bear with scurrility in one’s own person, and patiently see one’s own
friends suffer it, is a slavish thing.
As for the excess, it occurs in all forms; men are angry with those
with whom, and at things with which, they ought not to be, and more
than they ought, and too hastily, and for too great a length of time. I
do not mean, however, that these are combined in any one person: that
would in fact be impossible, because the evil destroys itself, and if
it is developed in its full force it becomes unbearable.
Now those whom we term the Passionate are soon angry, and with people
with whom and at things at which they ought not, and in an excessive
degree, but they soon cool again, which is the best point about them.
And this results from their not repressing their anger, but repaying
their enemies (in that they show their feeings by reason of their
vehemence), and then they have done with it.
The Choleric again are excessively vehement, and are angry at
everything, and on every occasion; whence comes their Greek name
signifying that their choler lies high.
The Bitter-tempered are hard to reconcile and keep their anger for a
long while, because they repress the feeling: but when they have
revenged themselves then comes a lull; for the vengeance destroys their
anger by producing pleasure in lieu of pain. But if this does not
happen they keep the weight on their minds: because, as it does not
show itself, no one attempts to reason it away, and digesting anger
within one’s self takes time. Such men are very great nuisances to
themselves and to their best friends.
Again, we call those Cross-grained who are angry at wrong objects, and
in excessive degree, and for too long a time, and who are not appeased
without vengeance or at least punishing the offender.
To Meekness we oppose the excess rather than the defect, because it is
of more common occurrence: for human nature is more disposed to take
than to forgo revenge. And the Cross-grained are worse to live with
[than they who are too phlegmatic].
Now, from what has been here said, that is also plain which was said
before. I mean, it is no easy matter to define how, and with what
persons, and at what kind of things, and how long one ought to be
angry, and up to what point a person is right or is wrong. For he that
transgresses the strict rule only a little, whether on the side of too
much or too little, is not blamed: sometimes we praise those who are
deficient in the feeling and call them Meek, sometimes we call the
irritable Spirited as being well qualified for government. So it is not
easy to lay down, in so many words, for what degree or kind of
transgression a man is blameable: because the decision is in
particulars, and rests therefore with the Moral Sense. Thus much,
however, is plain, that the mean state is praiseworthy, in virtue of
which we are angry with those with whom, and at those things with
which, we ought to be angry, and in right manner, and so on; while the
excesses and defects are blameable, slightly so if only slight, more so
if greater, and when considerable very blameable.
It is clear, therefore, that the mean state is what we are to hold to.
This then is to be taken as our account of the various moral states
which have Anger for their object-matter.
Next, as regards social intercourse and interchange of words and acts,
some men are thought to be Over-Complaisant who, with a view solely to
giving pleasure, agree to everything and never oppose, but think their
line is to give no pain to those they are thrown amongst: they, on the
other hand, are called Cross and Contentious who take exactly the
contrary line to these, and oppose in everything, and have no care at
all whether they give pain or not.
Now it is quite clear of course, that the states I have named are
blameable, and that the mean between them is praiseworthy, in virtue of
which a man will let pass what he ought as he ought, and also will
object in like manner. However, this state has no name appropriated,
but it is most like Friendship; since the man who exhibits it is just
the kind of man whom we would call the amiable friend, with the
addition of strong earnest affection; but then this is the very point
in which it differs from Friendship, that it is quite independent of
any feeling or strong affection for those among whom the man mixes: I
mean, that he takes everything as he ought, not from any feeling of
love or hatred, but simply because his natural disposition leads him to
do so; he will do it alike to those whom he does know and those whom he
does not, and those with whom he is intimate and those with whom he is
not; only in each case as propriety requires, because it is not fitting
to care alike for intimates and strangers, nor again to pain them
alike.
It has been stated in a general way that his social intercourse will be
regulated by propriety, and his aim will be to avoid giving pain and to
contribute to pleasure, but with a constant reference to what is noble
and expedient.
His proper object-matter seems to be the pleasures and pains which
arise out of social intercourse, but whenever it is not honourable or
even hurtful to him to contribute to pleasure, in these instances he
will run counter and prefer to give pain.
Or if the things in question involve unseemliness to the doer, and this
not inconsiderable, or any harm, whereas his opposition will cause some
little pain, here he will not agree but will run counter.
Again, he will regulate differently his intercourse with great men and
with ordinary men, and with all people according to the knowledge he
has of them; and in like manner, taking in any other differences which
may exist, giving to each his due, and in itself preferring to give
pleasure and cautious not to give pain, but still guided by the
results, I mean by what is noble and expedient according as they
preponderate.
Again, he will inflict trifling pain with a view to consequent
pleasure.
Well, the man bearing the mean character is pretty well such as I have
described him, but he has no name appropriated to him: of those who try
to give pleasure, the man who simply and disinterestedly tries to be
agreeable is called Over-Complaisant, he who does it with a view to
secure some profit in the way of wealth, or those things which wealth
may procure, is a Flatterer: I have said before, that the man who is
“always non-content” is Cross and Contentious. Here the extremes have
the appearance of being opposed to one another, because the mean has no
appropriate name.
The mean state which steers clear of Exaggeration has pretty much the
same object-matter as the last we described, and likewise has no name
appropriated to it. Still it may be as well to go over these states:
because, in the first place, by a particular discussion of each we
shall be better acquainted with the general subject of moral character,
and next we shall be the more convinced that the virtues are mean
states by seeing that this is universally the case.
In respect then of living in society, those who carry on this
intercourse with a view to pleasure and pain have been already spoken
of; we will now go on to speak of those who are True or False, alike in
their words and deeds and in the claims which they advance.
Now the Exaggerator is thought to have a tendency to lay claim to
things reflecting credit on him, both when they do not belong to him at
all and also in greater degree than that in which they really do:
whereas the Reserved man, on the contrary, denies those which really
belong to him or else depreciates them, while the mean character being
a Plain-matter-of-fact person is Truthful in life and word, admitting
the existence of what does really belong to him and making it neither
greater nor less than the truth.
It is possible of course to take any of these lines either with or
without some further view: but in general men speak, and act, and live,
each according to his particular character and disposition, unless
indeed a man is acting from any special motive.
Now since falsehood is in itself low and blameable, while truth is
noble and praiseworthy, it follows that the Truthful man (who is also
in the mean) is praiseworthy, and the two who depart from strict truth
are both blameable, but especially the Exaggerator.
We will now speak of each, and first of the Truthful man: I call him
Truthful, because we are not now meaning the man who is true in his
agreements nor in such matters as amount to justice or injustice (this
would come within the province of a different virtue), but, in such as
do not involve any such serious difference as this, the man we are
describing is true in life and word simply because he is in a certain
moral state.
And he that is such must be judged to be a good man: for he that has a
love for Truth as such, and is guided by it in matters indifferent,
will be so likewise even more in such as are not indifferent; for
surely he will have a dread of falsehood as base, since he shunned it
even in itself: and he that is of such a character is praiseworthy, yet
he leans rather to that which is below the truth, this having an
appearance of being in better taste because exaggerations are so
hateful.
As for the man who lays claim to things above what really belongs to
him without any special motive, he is like a base man because he
would not otherwise have taken pleasure in falsehood, but he shows as a
fool rather than as a knave. But if a man does this with a special
motive, suppose for honour or glory, as the Braggart does, then he is
not so very blameworthy, but if, directly or indirectly, for pecuniary
considerations, he is more unseemly.
Now the Braggart is such not by his power but by his purpose, that is
to say, in virtue of his moral state, and because he is a man of a
certain kind; just as there are liars who take pleasure in falsehood
for its own sake while others lie from a desire of glory or gain. They
who exaggerate with a view to glory pretend to such qualities as are
followed by praise or highest congratulation; they who do it with a
view to gain assume those which their neighbours can avail themselves
of, and the absence of which can be concealed, as a man’s being a
skilful soothsayer or physician; and accordingly most men pretend to
such things and exaggerate in this direction, because the faults I have
mentioned are in them.
The Reserved, who depreciate their own qualities, have the appearance
of being more refined in their characters, because they are not thought
to speak with a view to gain but to avoid grandeur: one very common
trait in such characters is their denying common current opinions, as
Socrates used to do. There are people who lay claim falsely to small
things and things the falsity of their pretensions to which is obvious;
these are called Factotums and are very despicable.
This very Reserve sometimes shows like Exaggeration; take, for
instance, the excessive plainness of dress affected by the
Lacedæmonians: in fact, both excess and the extreme of deficiency
partake of the nature of Exaggeration. But they who practise Reserve in
moderation, and in cases in which the truth is not very obvious and
plain, give an impression of refinement. Here it is the Exaggerator (as
being the worst character) who appears to be opposed to the Truthful
Man.
Next, as life has its pauses and in them admits of pastime combined
with Jocularity, it is thought that in this respect also there is a
kind of fitting intercourse, and that rules may be prescribed as to the
kind of things one should say and the manner of saying them; and in
respect of hearing likewise (and there will be a difference between the
saying and hearing such and such things). It is plain that in regard to
these things also there will be an excess and defect and a mean.
Now they who exceed in the ridiculous are judged to be Buffoons and
Vulgar, catching at it in any and every way and at any cost, and aiming
rather at raising laughter than at saying what is seemly and at
avoiding to pain the object of their wit. They, on the other hand, who
would not for the world make a joke themselves and are displeased with
such as do are thought to be Clownish and Stern. But they who are
Jocular in good taste are denominated by a Greek term expressing
properly ease of movement, because such are thought to be, as one may
say, motions of the moral character; and as bodies are judged of by
their motions so too are moral characters.
Now as the ridiculous lies on the surface, and the majority of men take
more pleasure than they ought in Jocularity and Jesting, the Buffoons
too get this name of Easy Pleasantry, as if refined and gentlemanlike;
but that they differ from these, and considerably too, is plain from
what has been said.
One quality which belongs to the mean state is Tact: it is
characteristic of a man of Tact to say and listen to such things as are
fit for a good man and a gentleman to say and listen to: for there are
things which are becoming for such a one to say and listen to in the
way of Jocularity, and there is a difference between the Jocularity of
the Gentleman and that of the Vulgarian; and again, between that of the
educated and uneducated man. This you may see from a comparison of the
Old and New Comedy: in the former obscene talk made the fun; in the
latter it is rather innuendo: and this is no slight difference _as
regards decency_.
Well then, are we to characterise him who jests well by his saying what
is becoming a gentleman, or by his avoiding to pain the object of his
wit, or even by his giving him pleasure? or will not such a definition
be vague, since different things are hateful and pleasant to different
men?
Be this as it may, whatever he says such things will he also listen to,
since it is commonly held that a man will do what he will bear to hear:
this must, however, be limited; a man will not do quite all that he
will hear: because jesting is a species of scurrility and there are
some points of scurrility forbidden by law; it may be certain points of
jesting should have been also so forbidden. So then the refined and
gentlemanlike man will bear himself thus as being a law to himself.
Such is the mean character, whether denominated the man of Tact or of
Easy Pleasantry.
But the Buffoon cannot resist the ridiculous, sparing neither himself
nor any one else so that he can but raise his laugh, saying things of
such kind as no man of refinement would say and some which he would not
even tolerate if said by others in his hearing.
The Clownish man is for such intercourse wholly useless: inasmuch as
contributing nothing jocose of his own he is savage with all who do.
Yet some pause and amusement in life are generally judged to be
indispensable.
The three mean states which have been described do occur in life, and
the object-matter of all is interchange of words and deeds. They
differ, in that one of them is concerned with truth, and the other two
with the pleasurable: and of these two again, the one is conversant
with the jocosities of life, the other with all other points of social
intercourse.
To speak of Shame as a Virtue is incorrect, because it is much more
like a feeling than a moral state. It is defined, we know, to be “a
kind of fear of disgrace,” and its effects are similar to those of the
fear of danger, for they who feel Shame grow red and they who fear
death turn pale. So both are evidently in a way physical, which is
thought to be a mark of a feeling rather than a moral state.
Moreover, it is a feeling not suitable to every age, but only to youth:
we do think that the young should be Shamefaced, because since they
live at the beck and call of passion they do much that is wrong and
Shame acts on them as a check. In fact, we praise such young men as are
Shamefaced, but no one would ever praise an old man for being given to
it, inasmuch as we hold that he ought not to do things which cause
Shame; for Shame, since it arises at low bad actions, does not at all
belong to the good man, because such ought not to be done at all: nor
does it make any difference to allege that some things are disgraceful
really, others only because they are thought so; for neither should be
done, so that a man ought not to be in the position of feeling Shame.
In truth, to be such a man as to do anything disgraceful is the part of
a faulty character. And for a man to be such that he would feel Shame
if he should do anything disgraceful, and to think that this
constitutes him a good man, is absurd: because Shame is felt at
voluntary actions only, and a good man will never voluntarily do what
is base.
True it is, that Shame may be good on a certain supposition, as “if a
man should do such things, he would feel Shame:” but then the Virtues
are good in themselves, and not merely in supposed cases. And, granted
that impudence and the not being ashamed to do what is disgraceful is
base, it does not the more follow that it is good for a man to do such
things and feel Shame.
Nor is Self-Control properly a Virtue, but a kind of mixed state:
however, all about this shall be set forth in a future Book.
Now the points for our enquiry in respect of Justice and Injustice are,
what kind of actions are their object-matter, and what kind of a mean
state Justice is, and between what points the abstract principle of it,
i.e. the Just, is a mean. And our enquiry shall be, if you please,
conducted in the same method as we have observed in the foregoing parts
of this Treatise.
We see then that all men mean by the term Justice a moral state such
that in consequence of it men have the capacity of doing what is just,
and actually do it, and wish it: similarly also with respect to
Injustice, a moral state such that in consequence of it men do unjustly
and wish what is unjust: let us also be content then with these as a
ground-work sketched out.
I mention the two, because the same does not hold with regard to States
whether of mind or body as with regard to Sciences or Faculties: I mean
that whereas it is thought that the same Faculty or Science embraces
contraries, a State will not: from health, for instance, not the
contrary acts are done but the healthy ones only; we say a man walks
healthily when he walks as the healthy man would.
However, of the two contrary states the one may be frequently known
from the other, and oftentimes the states from their subject-matter: if
it be seen clearly what a good state of body is, then is it also seen
what a bad state is, and from the things which belong to a good state
of body the good state itself is seen, and vice versâ. If, for
instance, the good state is firmness of flesh it follows that the bad
state is flabbiness of flesh; and whatever causes firmness of flesh is
connected with the good state.
It follows moreover in general, that if of two contrary terms the
one is used in many senses so also will the other be; as, for instance,
if “the Just,” then also “the Unjust.” Now Justice and Injustice do
seem to be used respectively in many senses, but, because the line of
demarcation between these is very fine and minute, it commonly
escapes notice that they are thus used, and it is not plain and
manifest as where the various significations of terms are widely
different for in these last the visible difference is great, for
instance, the word κλεὶς is used equivocally to denote the bone which
is under the neck of animals and the instrument with which people close
doors.
Let it be ascertained then in how many senses the term “Unjust man” is
used. Well, he who violates the law, and he who is a grasping man, and
the unequal man, are all thought to be Unjust and so manifestly the
Just man will be, the man who acts according to law, and the equal man
“The Just” then will be the lawful and the equal, and “the Unjust” the
unlawful and the unequal.
Well, since the Unjust man is also a grasping man, he will be so, of
course, with respect to good things, but not of every kind, only those
which are the subject-matter of good and bad fortune and which are in
themselves always good but not always to the individual. Yet men
pray for and pursue these things: this they should not do but pray that
things which are in the abstract good may be so also to them, and
choose what is good for themselves.
But the Unjust man does not always choose actually the greater part,
but even sometimes the less; as in the case of things which are simply
evil: still, since the less evil is thought to be in a manner a good
and the grasping is after good, therefore even in this case he is
thought to be a grasping man, i.e. one who strives for more good than
fairly falls to his share: of course he is also an unequal man, this
being an inclusive and common term.
We said that the violator of Law is Unjust, and the keeper of the Law
Just: further, it is plain that all Lawful things are in a manner Just,
because by Lawful we understand what have been defined by the
legislative power and each of these we say is Just. The Laws too give
directions on all points, aiming either at the common good of all, or
that of the best, or that of those in power (taking for the standard
real goodness or adopting some other estimate); in one way we mean by
Just, those things which are apt to produce and preserve happiness and
its ingredients for the social community.
Further, the Law commands the doing the deeds not only of the brave man
(as not leaving the ranks, nor flying, nor throwing away one’s arms),
but those also of the perfectly self-mastering man, as abstinence from
adultery and wantonness; and those of the meek man, as refraining from
striking others or using abusive language: and in like manner in
respect of the other virtues and vices commanding some things and
forbidding others, rightly if it is a good law, in a way somewhat
inferior if it is one extemporised.
Now this Justice is in fact perfect Virtue, yet not simply so but as
exercised towards one’s neighbour: and for this reason Justice is
thought oftentimes to be the best of the Virtues, and
“neither Hesper nor the Morning-star
So worthy of our admiration:”
and in a proverbial saying we express the same;
“All virtue is in Justice comprehended.”
And it is in a special sense perfect Virtue because it is the practice
of perfect Virtue. And perfect it is because he that has it is able to
practise his virtue towards his neighbour and not merely on himself; I
mean, there are many who can practise virtue in the regulation of their
own personal conduct who are wholly unable to do it in transactions
with their neighbour. And for this reason that saying of Bias is
thought to be a good one,
“Rule will show what a man is;”
for he who bears Rule is necessarily in contact with others, i.e. in a
community. And for this same reason Justice alone of all the Virtues is
thought to be a good to others, because it has immediate relation to
some other person, inasmuch as the Just man does what is advantageous
to another, either to his ruler or fellow-subject. Now he is the basest
of men who practises vice not only in his own person, but towards
his friends also; but he the best who practises virtue not merely in
his own person but towards his neighbour, for this is a matter of some
difficulty.
However, Justice in this sense is not a part of Virtue but is
co-extensive with Virtue; nor is the Injustice which answers to it a
part of Vice but co-extensive with Vice. Now wherein Justice in this
sense differs from Virtue appears from what has been said: it is the
same really, but the point of view is not the same: in so far as it has
respect to one’s neighbour it is Justice, in so far as it is such and
such a moral state it is simply Virtue.
But the object of our enquiry is Justice, in the sense in which it is a
part of Virtue (for there is such a thing, as we commonly say), and
likewise with respect to particular Injustice. And of the existence of
this last the following consideration is a proof: there are many vices
by practising which a man acts unjustly, of course, but does not grasp
at more than his share of good; if, for instance, by reason of
cowardice he throws away his shield, or by reason of ill-temper he uses
abusive language, or by reason of stinginess does not give a friend
pecuniary assistance; but whenever he does a grasping action, it is
often in the way of none of these vices, certainly not in all of them,
still in the way of some vice or other (for we blame him), and in the
way of Injustice. There is then some kind of Injustice distinct from
that co-extensive with Vice and related to it as a part to a whole, and
some “Unjust” related to that which is co-extensive with violation of
the law as a part to a whole.
Again, suppose one man seduces a man’s wife with a view to gain and
actually gets some advantage by it, and another does the same from
impulse of lust, at an expense of money and damage; this latter will be
thought to be rather destitute of self-mastery than a grasping man, and
the former Unjust but not destitute of self-mastery: now why? plainly
because of his gaining.
Again, all other acts of Injustice we refer to some particular
depravity, as, if a man commits adultery, to abandonment to his
passions; if he deserts his comrade, to cowardice; if he strikes
another, to anger: but if he gains by the act to no other vice than to
Injustice.
Thus it is clear that there is a kind of Injustice different from and
besides that which includes all Vice, having the same name because the
definition is in the same genus; for both have their force in dealings
with others, but the one acts upon honour, or wealth, or safety, or by
whatever one name we can include all these things, and is actuated by
pleasure attendant on gain, while the other acts upon all things which
constitute the sphere of the good man’s action.
Now that there is more than one kind of Justice, and that there is one
which is distinct from and besides that which is co-extensive with,
Virtue, is plain: we must next ascertain what it is, and what are its
characteristics.
Well, the Unjust has been divided into the unlawful and the unequal,
and the Just accordingly into the lawful and the equal: the
aforementioned Injustice is in the way of the unlawful. And as the
unequal and the more are not the same, but differing as part to
whole (because all more is unequal, but not all unequal more), so the
Unjust and the Injustice we are now in search of are not the same with,
but other than, those before mentioned, the one being the parts, the
other the wholes; for this particular Injustice is a part of the
Injustice co-extensive with Vice, and likewise this Justice of the
Justice co-extensive with Virtue. So that what we have now to speak of
is the particular Justice and Injustice, and likewise the particular
Just and Unjust.
Here then let us dismiss any further consideration of the Justice
ranking as co-extensive with Virtue (being the practice of Virtue in
all its bearings towards others), and of the co-relative Injustice
(being similarly the practice of Vice). It is clear too, that we must
separate off the Just and the Unjust involved in these: because one may
pretty well say that most lawful things are those which naturally
result in action from Virtue in its fullest sense, because the law
enjoins the living in accordance with each Virtue and forbids living in
accordance with each Vice. And the producing causes of Virtue in all
its bearings are those enactments which have been made respecting
education for society.
By the way, as to individual education, in respect of which a man is
simply good without reference to others, whether it is the province of
πολιτικὴ or some other science we must determine at a future time: for
it may be it is not the same thing to be a good man and a good citizen
in every case.
Now of the Particular Justice, and the Just involved in it, one species
is that which is concerned in the distributions of honour, or wealth,
or such other things as are to be shared among the members of the
social community (because in these one man as compared with another may
have either an equal or an unequal share), and the other is that which
is Corrective in the various transactions between man and man.
And of this latter there are two parts: because of transactions some
are voluntary and some involuntary; voluntary, such as follow; selling,
buying, use, bail, borrowing, deposit, hiring: and this class is called
voluntary because the origination of these transactions is voluntary.
The involuntary again are either such as effect secrecy; as theft,
adultery, poisoning, pimping, kidnapping of slaves, assassination,
false witness; or accompanied with open violence; as insult, bonds,
death, plundering, maiming, foul language, slanderous abuse.
Well, the unjust man we have said is unequal, and the abstract “Unjust”
unequal: further, it is plain that there is some mean of the unequal,
that is to say, the equal or exact half (because in whatever action
there is the greater and the less there is also the equal, i.e. the
exact half). If then the Unjust is unequal the Just is equal, which all
must allow without further proof: and as the equal is a mean the Just
must be also a mean. Now the equal implies two terms at least: it
follows then that the Just is both a mean and equal, and these to
certain persons; and, in so far as it is a mean, between certain things
(that is, the greater and the less), and, so far as it is equal,
between two, and in so far as it is just it is so to certain persons.
The Just then must imply four terms at least, for those to which it
is just are two, and the terms representing the things are two.
And there will be the same equality between the terms representing the
persons, as between those representing the things: because as the
latter are to one another so are the former: for if the persons are not
equal they must not have equal shares; in fact this is the very source
of all the quarrelling and wrangling in the world, when either they who
are equal have and get awarded to them things not equal, or being not
equal those things which are equal. Again, the necessity of this
equality of ratios is shown by the common phrase “according to rate,”
for all agree that the Just in distributions ought to be according to
some rate: but what that rate is to be, all do not agree; the democrats
are for freedom, oligarchs for wealth, others for nobleness of birth,
and the aristocratic party for virtue.
The Just, then, is a certain proportionable thing. For proportion does
not apply merely to number in the abstract, but to number
generally, since it is equality of ratios, and implies four terms at
least (that this is the case in what may be called discrete proportion
is plain and obvious, but it is true also in continual proportion, for
this uses the one term as two, and mentions it twice; thus A:B:C may be
expressed A:B::B:C. In the first, B is named twice; and so, if, as in
the second, B is actually written twice, the proportionals will be
four): and the Just likewise implies four terms at the least, and the
ratio between the two pair of terms is the same, because the persons
and the things are divided similarly. It will stand then thus,
A:B::C:D, and then permutando A:C::B:D, and then (supposing C and D to
represent the things) A+C:B+D::A:B. The distribution in fact consisting
in putting together these terms thus: and if they are put together so
as to preserve this same ratio, the distribution puts them together
justly. So then the joining together of the first and third and
second and fourth proportionals is the Just in the distribution, and
this Just is the mean relatively to that which violates the
proportionate, for the proportionate is a mean and the Just is
proportionate. Now mathematicians call this kind of proportion
geometrical: for in geometrical proportion the whole is to the whole as
each part to each part. Furthermore this proportion is not continual,
because the person and thing do not make up one term.
The Just then is this proportionate, and the Unjust that which violates
the proportionate; and so there comes to be the greater and the less:
which in fact is the case in actual transactions, because he who acts
unjustly has the greater share and he who is treated unjustly has the
less of what is good: but in the case of what is bad this is reversed:
for the less evil compared with the greater comes to be reckoned for
good, because the less evil is more choice-worthy than the greater, and
what is choice-worthy is good, and the more so the greater good.
This then is the one species of the Just.
And the remaining one is the Corrective, which arises in voluntary as
well as involuntary transactions. Now this just has a different form
from the aforementioned; for that which is concerned in distribution of
common property is always according to the aforementioned proportion: I
mean that, if the division is made out of common property, the shares
will bear the same proportion to one another as the original
contributions did: and the Unjust which is opposite to this Just is
that which violates the proportionate.
But the Just which arises in transactions between men is an equal in a
certain sense, and the Unjust an unequal, only not in the way of that
proportion but of arithmetical. Because it makes no difference
whether a robbery, for instance, is committed by a good man on a bad or
by a bad man on a good, nor whether a good or a bad man has committed
adultery: the law looks only to the difference created by the injury
and treats the men as previously equal, where the one does and the
other suffers injury, or the one has done and the other suffered harm.
And so this Unjust, being unequal, the judge endeavours to reduce to
equality again, because really when the one party has been wounded and
the other has struck him, or the one kills and the other dies, the
suffering and the doing are divided into unequal shares; well, the
judge tries to restore equality by penalty, thereby taking from the
gain.
For these terms gain and loss are applied to these cases, though
perhaps the term in some particular instance may not be strictly
proper, as gain, for instance, to the man who has given a blow, and
loss to him who has received it: still, when the suffering has been
estimated, the one is called loss and the other gain.
And so the equal is a mean between the more and the less, which
represent gain and loss in contrary ways (I mean, that the more of good
and the less of evil is gain, the less of good and the more of evil is
loss): between which the equal was stated to be a mean, which equal we
say is Just: and so the Corrective Just must be the mean between loss
and gain. And this is the reason why, upon a dispute arising, men have
recourse to the judge: going to the judge is in fact going to the Just,
for the judge is meant to be the personification of the Just. And
men seek a judge as one in the mean, which is expressed in a name given
by some to judges (μεσίδιοι, or middle-men) under the notion that if
they can hit on the mean they shall hit on the Just. The Just is then
surely a mean since the judge is also.
So it is the office of a judge to make things equal, and the line, as
it were, having been unequally divided, he takes from the greater part
that by which it exceeds the half, and adds this on to the less. And
when the whole is divided into two exactly equal portions then men say
they have their own, when they have gotten the equal; and the equal is
a mean between the greater and the less according to arithmetical
equality.
This, by the way, accounts for the etymology of the term by which we in
Greek express the ideas of Just and Judge; (δίκαιον quasi δίχαιον, that
is in two parts, and δικάστης quasi διχάστης, he who divides into two
parts). For when from one of two equal magnitudes somewhat has been
taken and added to the other, this latter exceeds the former by twice
that portion: if it had been merely taken from the former and not added
to the latter, then the latter would have exceeded the former only by
that one portion; but in the other case, the greater exceeds the mean
by one, and the mean exceeds also by one that magnitude from which the
portion was taken. By this illustration, then, we obtain a rule to
determine what one ought to take from him who has the greater, and what
to add to him who has the less. The excess of the mean over the less
must be added to the less, and the excess of the greater over the mean
be taken from the greater.
Thus let there be three straight lines equal to one another. From one
of them cut off a portion, and add as much to another of them. The
whole line thus made will exceed the remainder of the first-named line,
by twice the portion added, and will exceed the untouched line by that
portion. And these terms loss and gain are derived from voluntary
exchange: that is to say, the having more than what was one’s own is
called gaining, and the having less than one’s original stock is called
losing; for instance, in buying or selling, or any other transactions
which are guaranteed by law: but when the result is neither more nor
less, but exactly the same as there was originally, people say they
have their own, and neither lose nor gain.
So then the Just we have been speaking of is a mean between loss and
gain arising in involuntary transactions; that is, it is the having the
same after the transaction as one had before it took place.
There are people who have a notion that Reciprocation is simply just,
as the Pythagoreans said: for they defined the Just simply and without
qualification as “That which reciprocates with another.” But this
simple Reciprocation will not fit on either to the Distributive Just,
or the Corrective (and yet this is the interpretation they put on the
Rhadamanthian rule of Just,
If a man should suffer what he hath done, then there would be
straightforward justice;”)
for in many cases differences arise: as, for instance, suppose one in
authority has struck a man, he is not to be struck in turn; or if a man
has struck one in authority, he must not only be struck but punished
also. And again, the voluntariness or involuntariness of actions
makes a great difference.
But in dealings of exchange such a principle of Justice as this
Reciprocation forms the bond of union, but then it must be
Reciprocation according to proportion and not exact equality, because
by proportionate reciprocity of action the social community is held
together, For either Reciprocation of evil is meant, and if this be not
allowed it is thought to be a servile condition of things: or else
Reciprocation of good, and if this be not effected then there is no
admission to participation which is the very bond of their union.
And this is the moral of placing the Temple of the Graces (χάριτες) in
the public streets; to impress the notion that there may be requital,
this being peculiar to χάρις because a man ought to requite with a
good turn the man who has done him a favour and then to become himself
the originator of another χάρις, by doing him a favour.
Now the acts of mutual giving in due proportion may be represented by
the diameters of a parallelogram, at the four angles of which the
parties and their wares are so placed that the side connecting the
parties be opposite to that connecting the wares, and each party be
connected by one side with his own ware, as in the accompanying
diagram.
[Illustration]
The builder is to receive from the shoemaker of his ware, and to give
him of his own: if then there be first proportionate equality, and
then the Reciprocation takes place, there will be the just result
which we are speaking of: if not, there is not the equal, nor will the
connection stand: for there is no reason why the ware of the one may
not be better than that of the other, and therefore before the exchange
is made they must have been equalised. And this is so also in the other
arts: for they would have been destroyed entirely if there were not a
correspondence in point of quantity and quality between the producer
and the consumer. For, we must remember, no dealing arises between two
of the same kind, two physicians, for instance; but say between a
physician and agriculturist, or, to state it generally, between those
who are different and not equal, but these of course must have been
equalised before the exchange can take place.
It is therefore indispensable that all things which can be exchanged
should be capable of comparison, and for this purpose money has come
in, and comes to be a kind of medium, for it measures all things and so
likewise the excess and defect; for instance, how many shoes are equal
to a house or a given quantity of food. As then the builder to the
shoemaker, so many shoes must be to the house (or food, if instead of a
builder an agriculturist be the exchanging party); for unless there is
this proportion there cannot be exchange or dealing, and this
proportion cannot be unless the terms are in some way equal; hence the
need, as was stated above, of some one measure of all things. Now this
is really and truly the Demand for them, which is the common bond of
all such dealings. For if the parties were not in want at all or not
similarly of one another’s wares, there would either not be any
exchange, or at least not the same.
And money has come to be, by general agreement, a representative of
Demand: and the account of its Greek name νομισμα is this, that it is
what it is not naturally but by custom or law (νόμος), and it rests
with us to change its value, or make it wholly useless.
Very well then, there will be Reciprocation when the terms have been
equalised so as to stand in this proportion; Agriculturist : Shoemaker
: : wares of Shoemaker : wares of Agriculturist; but you must bring
them to this form of proportion when they exchange, otherwise the one
extreme will combine both exceedings of the mean: but when they
have exactly their own then they are equal and have dealings, because
the same equality can come to be in their case. Let A represent an
agriculturist, C food, B a shoemaker, D his wares equalised with A’s.
Then the proportion will be correct, A:B::C:D; now Reciprocation will
be practicable, if it were not, there would have been no dealing.
Now that what connects men in such transactions is Demand, as being
some one thing, is shown by the fact that, when either one does not
want the other or neither want one another, they do not exchange at
all: whereas they do when one wants what the other man has, wine
for instance, giving in return corn for exportation.
And further, money is a kind of security to us in respect of exchange
at some future time (supposing that one wants nothing now that we shall
have it when we do): the theory of money being that whenever one brings
it one can receive commodities in exchange: of course this too is
liable to depreciation, for its purchasing power is not always the
same, but still it is of a more permanent nature than the commodities
it represents. And this is the reason why all things should have a
price set upon them, because thus there may be exchange at any time,
and if exchange then dealing. So money, like a measure, making all
things commensurable equalises them: for if there was not exchange
there would not have been dealing, nor exchange if there were not
equality, nor equality if there were not the capacity of being
commensurate: it is impossible that things so greatly different should
be really commensurate, but we can approximate sufficiently for all
practical purposes in reference to Demand. The common measure must be
some one thing, and also from agreement (for which reason it is called
νόμισμα), for this makes all things commensurable: in fact, all things
are measured by money. Let B represent ten minæ, A a house worth five
minæ, or in other words half B, C a bed worth 1/10th of B: it is clear
then how many beds are equal to one house, namely, five.
It is obvious also that exchange was thus conducted before the
existence of money: for it makes no difference whether you give for a
house five beds or the price of five beds.
We have now said then what the abstract Just and Unjust are, and these
having been defined it is plain that just acting is a mean between
acting unjustly and being acted unjustly towards: the former being
equivalent to having more, and the latter to having less.
But Justice, it must be observed, is a mean state not after the same
manner as the forementioned virtues, but because it aims at producing
the mean, while Injustice occupies both the extremes.
And Justice is the moral state in virtue of which the just man is said
to have the aptitude for practising the Just in the way of moral
choice, and for making division between, himself and another, or
between two other men, not so as to give to himself the greater and to
his neighbour the less share of what is choice-worthy and contrariwise
of what is hurtful, but what is proportionably equal, and in like
manner when adjudging the rights of two other men.
Injustice is all this with respect to the Unjust: and since the Unjust
is excess or defect of what is good or hurtful respectively, in
violation of the proportionate, therefore Injustice is both excess and
defect because it aims at producing excess and defect; excess, that is,
in a man’s own case of what is simply advantageous, and defect of what
is hurtful: and in the case of other men in like manner generally
speaking, only that the proportionate is violated not always in one
direction as before but whichever way it happens in the given case. And
of the Unjust act the less is being acted unjustly towards, and the
greater the acting unjustly towards others.
Let this way of describing the nature of Justice and Injustice, and
likewise the Just and the Unjust generally, be accepted as sufficient.
[Again, since a man may do unjust acts and not yet have formed a
character of injustice, the question arises whether a man is unjust in
each particular form of injustice, say a thief, or adulterer, or
robber, by doing acts of a given character.
We may say, I think, that this will not of itself make any difference;
a man may, for instance, have had connection with another’s wife,
knowing well with whom he was sinning, but he may have done it not of
deliberate choice but from the impulse of passion: of course he acts
unjustly, but he has not necessarily formed an unjust character: that
is, he may have stolen yet not be a thief; or committed an act of
adultery but still not be an adulterer, and so on in other cases which
might be enumerated.]
Of the relation which Reciprocation bears to the Just we have already
spoken: and here it should be noticed that the Just which we are
investigating is both the Just in the abstract and also as exhibited in
Social Relations, which latter arises in the case of those who live in
communion with a view to independence and who are free and equal either
proportionately or numerically.
It follows then that those who are not in this position have not among
themselves the Social Just, but still Just of some kind and resembling
that other. For Just implies mutually acknowledged law, and law the
possibility of injustice, for adjudication is the act of distinguishing
between the Just and the Unjust.
And among whomsoever there is the possibility of injustice among these
there is that of acting unjustly; but it does not hold conversely that
injustice attaches to all among whom there is the possibility of acting
unjustly, since by the former we mean giving one’s self the larger
share of what is abstractedly good and the less of what is abstractedly
evil.
This, by the way, is the reason why we do not allow a man to govern,
but Principle, because a man governs for himself and comes to be a
despot: but the office of a ruler is to be guardian of the Just and
therefore of the Equal. Well then, since he seems to have no peculiar
personal advantage, supposing him a Just man, for in this case he does
not allot to himself the larger share of what is abstractedly good
unless it falls to his share proportionately (for which reason he
really governs for others, and so Justice, men say, is a good not to
one’s self so much as to others, as was mentioned before), therefore
some compensation must be given him, as there actually is in the shape
of honour and privilege; and wherever these are not adequate there
rulers turn into despots.
But the Just which arises in the relations of Master and Father, is not
identical with, but similar to, these; because there is no possibility
of injustice towards those things which are absolutely one’s own; and a
slave or child (so long as this last is of a certain age and not
separated into an independent being), is, as it were, part of a man’s
self, and no man chooses to hurt himself, for which reason there cannot
be injustice towards one’s own self: therefore neither is there the
social Unjust or Just, which was stated to be in accordance with law
and to exist between those among whom law naturally exists, and these
were said to be they to whom belongs equality of ruling and being
ruled.
Hence also there is Just rather between a man and his wife than between
a man and his children or slaves; this is in fact the Just arising in
domestic relations: and this too is different from the Social Just.
Further, this last-mentioned Just is of two kinds, natural and
conventional; the former being that which has everywhere the same force
and does not depend upon being received or not; the latter being that
which originally may be this way or that indifferently but not after
enactment: for instance, the price of ransom being fixed at a mina, or
the sacrificing a goat instead of two sheep; and again, all cases of
special enactment, as the sacrificing to Brasidas as a hero; in short,
all matters of special decree.
But there are some men who think that all the Justs are of this latter
kind, and on this ground: whatever exists by nature, they say, is
unchangeable and has everywhere the same force; fire, for instance,
burns not here only but in Persia as well, but the Justs they see
changed in various places.
Now this is not really so, and yet it is in a way (though among the
gods perhaps by no means): still even amongst ourselves there is
somewhat existing by nature: allowing that everything is subject to
change, still there is that which does exist by nature, and that which
does not.
Nay, we may go further, and say that it is practically plain what among
things which can be otherwise does exist by nature, and what does not
but is dependent upon enactment and conventional, even granting that
both are alike subject to be changed: and the same distinctive
illustration will apply to this and other cases; the right hand is
naturally the stronger, still some men may become equally strong in
both.
A parallel may be drawn between the Justs which depend upon convention
and expedience, and measures; for wine and corn measures are not equal
in all places, but where men buy they are large, and where these same
sell again they are smaller: well, in like manner the Justs which are
not natural, but of human invention, are not everywhere the same, for
not even the forms of government are, and yet there is one only which
by nature would be best in all places.
Now of Justs and Lawfuls each bears to the acts which embody and
exemplify it the relation of an universal to a particular; the acts
being many, but each of the principles only singular because each is an
universal. And so there is a difference between an unjust act and the
abstract Unjust, and the just act and the abstract Just: I mean, a
thing is unjust in itself, by nature or by ordinance; well, when this
has been embodied in act, there is an unjust act, but not till then,
only some unjust thing. And similarly of a just act. (Perhaps
δικαιοπράγημα is more correctly the common or generic term for just
act, the word δικαίωμα, which I have here used, meaning generally and
properly the act corrective of the unjust act.) Now as to each of them,
what kinds there are, and how many, and what is their object-matter, we
must examine afterwards.
For the present we proceed to say that, the Justs and the Unjusts being
what have been mentioned, a man is said to act unjustly or justly when
he embodies these abstracts in voluntary actions, but when in
involuntary, then he neither acts unjustly or justly except
accidentally; I mean that the being just or unjust is really only
accidental to the agents in such cases.
So both unjust and just actions are limited by the being voluntary or
the contrary: for when an embodying of the Unjust is voluntary, then it
is blamed and is at the same time also an unjust action: but, if
voluntariness does not attach, there will be a thing which is in itself
unjust but not yet an unjust action.
By voluntary, I mean, as we stated before, whatsoever of things in his
own power a man does with knowledge, and the absence of ignorance as to
the person to whom, or the instrument with which, or the result with
which he does; as, for instance, whom he strikes, what he strikes him
with, and with what probable result; and each of these points again,
not accidentally nor by compulsion; as supposing another man were to
seize his hand and strike a third person with it, here, of course, the
owner of the hand acts not voluntarily, because it did not rest with
him to do or leave undone: or again, it is conceivable that the person
struck may be his father, and he may know that it is a man, or even one
of the present company, whom he is striking, but not know that it is
his father. And let these same distinctions be supposed to be carried
into the case of the result and in fact the whole of any given action.
In fine then, that is involuntary which is done through ignorance, or
which, not resulting from ignorance, is not in the agent’s control or
is done on compulsion.
I mention these cases, because there are many natural things which we
do and suffer knowingly but still no one of which is either voluntary
or involuntary, growing old, or dying, for instance.
Again, accidentality may attach to the unjust in like manner as to the
just acts. For instance, a man may have restored what was deposited
with him, but against his will and from fear of the consequences of a
refusal: we must not say that he either does what is just, or does
justly, except accidentally: and in like manner the man who through
compulsion and against his will fails to restore a deposit, must be
said to do unjustly, or to do what is unjust, accidentally only.
Again, voluntary actions we do either from deliberate choice or without
it; from it, when we act from previous deliberation; without it, when
without any previous deliberation. Since then hurts which may be done
in transactions between man and man are threefold, those mistakes which
are attended with ignorance are, when a man either does a thing not to
the man to whom he meant to do it, or not the thing he meant to do, or
not with the instrument, or not with the result which he intended:
either he did not think he should hit him at all, or not with this, or
this is not the man he thought he should hit, or he did not think this
would be the result of the blow but a result has followed which he did
not anticipate; as, for instance, he did it not to wound but merely to
prick him; or it is not the man whom, or the way in which, he meant.
Now when the hurt has come about contrary to all reasonable
expectation, it is a Misadventure; when though not contrary to
expectation yet without any viciousness, it is a Mistake; for a man
makes a mistake when the origination of the cause rests with himself,
he has a misadventure when it is external to himself. When again he
acts with knowledge, but not from previous deliberation, it is an
unjust action; for instance, whatever happens to men from anger or
other passions which are necessary or natural: for when doing these
hurts or making these mistakes they act unjustly of course and their
actions are unjust, still they are not yet confirmed unjust or wicked
persons by reason of these, because the hurt did not arise from
depravity in the doer of it: but when it does arise from deliberate
choice, then the doer is a confirmed unjust and depraved man.
And on this principle acts done from anger are fairly judged not to be
from malice prepense, because it is not the man who acts in wrath who
is the originator really but he who caused his wrath. And again, the
question at issue in such cases is not respecting the fact but
respecting the justice of the case, the occasion of anger being a
notion of injury. I mean, that the parties do not dispute about the
fact, as in questions of contract (where one of the two must be a
rogue, unless real forgetfulness can be pleaded), but, admitting the
fact, they dispute on which side the justice of the case lies (the one
who plotted against the other, i.e. the real aggressor, of course,
cannot be ignorant), so that the one thinks there is injustice
committed while the other does not.
Well then, a man acts unjustly if he has hurt another of deliberate
purpose, and he who commits such acts of injustice is ipso facto an
unjust character when they are in violation of the proportionate or the
equal; and in like manner also a man is a just character when he acts
justly of deliberate purpose, and he does act justly if he acts
voluntarily.
Then as for involuntary acts of harm, they are either such as are
excusable or such as are not: under the former head come all errors
done not merely in ignorance but from ignorance; under the latter all
that are done not from ignorance but in ignorance caused by some
passion which is neither natural nor fairly attributable to human
infirmity.
Now a question may be raised whether we have spoken with sufficient
distinctness as to being unjustly dealt with, and dealing unjustly
towards others.
First, whether the case is possible which Euripides has put, saying
somewhat strangely,
“My mother he hath slain; the tale is short,
Either he willingly did slay her willing,
Or else with her will but against his own.”
I mean then, is it really possible for a person to be unjustly dealt
with with his own consent, or must every case of being unjustly dealt
with be against the will of the sufferer as every act of unjust dealing
is voluntary?
And next, are cases of being unjustly dealt with to be ruled all one
way as every act of unjust dealing is voluntary? or may we say that
some cases are voluntary and some involuntary?
Similarly also as regards being justly dealt with: all just acting is
voluntary, so that it is fair to suppose that the being dealt with
unjustly or justly must be similarly opposed, as to being either
voluntary or involuntary.
Now as for being justly dealt with, the position that every case of
this is voluntary is a strange one, for some are certainly justly dealt
with without their will. The fact is a man may also fairly raise
this question, whether in every case he who has suffered what is unjust
is therefore unjustly dealt with, or rather that the case is the same
with suffering as it is with acting; namely that in both it is possible
to participate in what is just, but only accidentally. Clearly the case
of what is unjust is similar: for doing things in themselves unjust is
not identical with acting unjustly, nor is suffering them the same as
being unjustly dealt with. So too of acting justly and being justly
dealt with, since it is impossible to be unjustly dealt with unless
some one else acts unjustly or to be justly dealt with unless some one
else acts justly.
Now if acting unjustly is simply “hurting another voluntarily” (by
which I mean, knowing whom you are hurting, and wherewith, and how you
are hurting him), and the man who fails of self-control voluntarily
hurts himself, then this will be a case of being voluntarily dealt
unjustly with, and it will be possible for a man to deal unjustly with
himself. (This by the way is one of the questions raised, whether it is
possible for a man to deal unjustly with himself.) Or again, a man may,
by reason of failing of self-control, receive hurt from another man
acting voluntarily, and so here will be another case of being unjustly
dealt with voluntarily.
The solution, I take it, is this: the definition of being unjustly
dealt with is not correct, but we must add, to the hurting with the
knowledge of the person hurt and the instrument and the manner of
hurting him, the fact of its being against the wish of the man who is
hurt.
So then a man may be hurt and suffer what is in itself unjust
voluntarily, but unjustly dealt with voluntarily no man can be: since
no man wishes to be hurt, not even he who fails of self-control, who
really acts contrary to his wish: for no man wishes for that which he
does not think to be good, and the man who fails of self-control does
not what he thinks he ought to do.
And again, he that gives away his own property (as Homer says Glaucus
gave to Diomed, “armour of gold for brass, armour worth a hundred oxen
for that which was worth but nine”) is not unjustly dealt with, because
the giving rests entirely with himself; but being unjustly dealt with
does not, there must be some other person who is dealing unjustly
towards him.
With respect to being unjustly dealt with then, it is clear that it is
not voluntary.
There remain yet two points on which we purposed to speak: first, is he
chargeable with an unjust act who in distribution has given the
larger share to one party contrary to the proper rate, or he that has
the larger share? next, can a man deal unjustly by himself?
In the first question, if the first-named alternative is possible and
it is the distributor who acts unjustly and not he who has the larger
share, then supposing that a person knowingly and willingly gives more
to another than to himself here is a case of a man dealing unjustly by
himself; which, in fact, moderate men are thought to do, for it is a
characteristic of the equitable man to take less than his due.
Is not this the answer? that the case is not quite fairly stated,
because of some other good, such as credit or the abstract honourable,
in the supposed case the man did get the larger share. And again, the
difficulty is solved by reference to the definition of unjust dealing:
for the man suffers nothing contrary to his own wish, so that, on this
score at least, he is not unjustly dealt with, but, if anything, he is
hurt only.
It is evident also that it is the distributor who acts unjustly and not
the man who has the greater share: because the mere fact of the
abstract Unjust attaching to what a man does, does not constitute
unjust action, but the doing this voluntarily: and voluntariness
attaches to that quarter whence is the origination of the action, which
clearly is in the distributor not in the receiver. And again the term
doing is used in several senses; in one sense inanimate objects kill,
or the hand, or the slave by his master’s bidding; so the man in
question does not act unjustly but does things which are in themselves
unjust.
Again, suppose that a man has made a wrongful award in ignorance; in
the eye of the law he does not act unjustly nor is his awarding unjust,
but yet he is in a certain sense: for the Just according to law and
primary or natural Just are not coincident: but, if he knowingly
decided unjustly, then he himself as well as the receiver got the
larger share, that is, either of favour from the receiver or private
revenge against the other party: and so the man who decided unjustly
from these motives gets a larger share, in exactly the same sense as a
man would who received part of the actual matter of the unjust action:
because in this case the man who wrongly adjudged, say a field, did not
actually get land but money by his unjust decision.
Now men suppose that acting Unjustly rests entirely with themselves,
and conclude that acting Justly is therefore also easy. But this is not
really so; to have connection with a neighbour’s wife, or strike one’s
neighbour, or give the money with one’s hand, is of course easy and
rests with one’s self: but the doing these acts with certain inward
dispositions neither is easy nor rests entirely with one’s self. And in
like way, the knowing what is Just and what Unjust men think no great
instance of wisdom because it is not hard to comprehend those things of
which the laws speak. They forget that these are not Just actions,
except accidentally: to be Just they must be done and distributed in a
certain manner: and this is a more difficult task than knowing what
things are wholesome; for in this branch of knowledge it is an easy
matter to know honey, wine, hellebore, cautery, or the use of the
knife, but the knowing how one should administer these with a view to
health, and to whom and at what time, amounts in fact to being a
physician.
From this very same mistake they suppose also, that acting Unjustly is
equally in the power of the Just man, for the Just man no less, nay
even more, than the Unjust, may be able to do the particular acts; he
may be able to have intercourse with a woman or strike a man; or the
brave man to throw away his shield and turn his back and run this way
or that. True: but then it is not the mere doing these things which
constitutes acts of cowardice or injustice (except accidentally), but
the doing them with certain inward dispositions: just as it is not the
mere using or not using the knife, administering or not administering
certain drugs, which constitutes medical treatment or curing, but doing
these things in a certain particular way.
Again the abstract principles of Justice have their province among
those who partake of what is abstractedly good, and can have too much
or too little of these. Now there are beings who cannot have too
much of them, as perhaps the gods; there are others, again, to whom no
particle of them is of use, those who are incurably wicked to whom all
things are hurtful; others to whom they are useful to a certain degree:
for this reason then the province of Justice is among Men.
We have next to speak of Equity and the Equitable, that is to say, of
the relations of Equity to Justice and the Equitable to the Just; for
when we look into the matter the two do not appear identical nor yet
different in kind; and we sometimes commend the Equitable and the man
who embodies it in his actions, so that by way of praise we commonly
transfer the term also to other acts instead of the term good, thus
showing that the more Equitable a thing is the better it is: at other
times following a certain train of reasoning we arrive at a difficulty,
in that the Equitable though distinct from the Just is yet
praiseworthy; it seems to follow either that the Just is not good or
the Equitable not Just, since they are by hypothesis different; or if
both are good then they are identical.
This is a tolerably fair statement of the difficulty which on these
grounds arises in respect of the Equitable; but, in fact, all these may
be reconciled and really involve no contradiction: for the Equitable is
Just, being also better than one form of Just, but is not better than
the Just as though it were different from it in kind: Just and
Equitable then are identical, and, both being good, the Equitable is
the better of the two.
What causes the difficulty is this; the Equitable is Just, but not the
Just which is in accordance with written law, being in fact a
correction of that kind of Just. And the account of this is, that every
law is necessarily universal while there are some things which it is
not possible to speak of rightly in any universal or general statement.
Where then there is a necessity for general statement, while a general
statement cannot apply rightly to all cases, the law takes the
generality of cases, being fully aware of the error thus involved; and
rightly too notwithstanding, because the fault is not in the law, or in
the framer of the law, but is inherent in the nature of the thing,
because the matter of all action is necessarily such.
When then the law has spoken in general terms, and there arises a case
of exception to the general rule, it is proper, in so far as the
lawgiver omits the case and by reason of his universality of statement
is wrong, to set right the omission by ruling it as the lawgiver
himself would rule were he there present, and would have provided by
law had he foreseen the case would arise. And so the Equitable is Just
but better than one form of Just; I do not mean the abstract Just but
the error which arises out of the universality of statement: and this
is the nature of the Equitable, “a correction of Law, where Law is
defective by reason of its universality.”
This is the reason why not all things are according to law, because
there are things about which it is simply impossible to lay down a law,
and so we want special enactments for particular cases. For to speak
generally, the rule of the undefined must be itself undefined also,
just as the rule to measure Lesbian building is made of lead: for this
rule shifts according to the form of each stone and the special
enactment according to the facts of the case in question.
It is clear then what the Equitable is; namely that it is Just but
better than one form of Just: and hence it appears too who the
Equitable man is: he is one who has a tendency to choose and carry out
these principles, and who is not apt to press the letter of the law on
the worse side but content to waive his strict claims though backed by
the law: and this moral state is Equity, being a species of Justice,
not a different moral state from Justice.
The answer to the second of the two questions indicated above, “whether
it is possible for a man to deal unjustly by himself,” is obvious from
what has been already stated.
In the first place, one class of Justs is those which are enforced by
law in accordance with Virtue in the most extensive sense of the term:
for instance, the law does not bid a man kill himself; and whatever it
does not bid it forbids: well, whenever a man does hurt contrary to the
law (unless by way of requital of hurt), voluntarily, i.e. knowing to
whom he does it and wherewith, he acts Unjustly. Now he that from rage
kills himself, voluntarily, does this in contravention of Right Reason,
which the law does not permit. He therefore acts Unjustly: but towards
whom? towards the Community, not towards himself (because he suffers
with his own consent, and no man can be Unjustly dealt with with his
own consent), and on this principle the Community punishes him; that is
a certain infamy is attached to the suicide as to one who acts Unjustly
towards the Community.
Next, a man cannot deal Unjustly by himself in the sense in which a man
is Unjust who only does Unjust acts without being entirely bad (for the
two things are different, because the Unjust man is in a way bad, as
the coward is, not as though he were chargeable with badness in the
full extent of the term, and so he does not act Unjustly in this
sense), because if it were so then it would be possible for the same
thing to have been taken away from and added to the same person:
but this is really not possible, the Just and the Unjust always
implying a plurality of persons.
Again, an Unjust action must be voluntary, done of deliberate purpose,
and aggressive (for the man who hurts because he has first suffered and
is merely requiting the same is not thought to act Unjustly), but here
the man does to himself and suffers the same things at the same time.
Again, it would imply the possibility of being Unjustly dealt with with
one’s own consent.
And, besides all this, a man cannot act Unjustly without his act
falling under some particular crime; now a man cannot seduce his own
wife, commit a burglary on his own premises, or steal his own property.
After all, the general answer to the question is to allege what was
settled respecting being Unjustly dealt with with one’s own consent.
It is obvious, moreover, that being Unjustly dealt by and dealing
Unjustly by others are both wrong; because the one is having less, the
other having more, than the mean, and the case is parallel to that of
the healthy in the healing art, and that of good condition in the art
of training: but still the dealing Unjustly by others is the worst of
the two, because this involves wickedness and is blameworthy;
wickedness, I mean, either wholly, or nearly so (for not all voluntary
wrong implies injustice), but the being Unjustly dealt by does not
involve wickedness or injustice.
In itself then, the being Unjustly dealt by is the least bad, but
accidentally it may be the greater evil of the two. However, scientific
statement cannot take in such considerations; a pleurisy, for instance,
is called a greater physical evil than a bruise: and yet this last may
be the greater accidentally; it may chance that a bruise received in a
fall may cause one to be captured by the enemy and slain.
Further: Just, in the way of metaphor and similitude, there may be I do
not say between a man and himself exactly but between certain parts of
his nature; but not Just of every kind, only such as belongs to the
relation of master and slave, or to that of the head of a family. For
all through this treatise the rational part of the Soul has been viewed
as distinct from the irrational.
Now, taking these into consideration, there is thought to be a
possibility of injustice towards one’s self, because herein it is
possible for men to suffer somewhat in contradiction of impulses really
their own; and so it is thought that there is Just of a certain kind
between these parts mutually, as between ruler and ruled.
Let this then be accepted as an account of the distinctions which we
recognise respecting Justice and the rest of the moral virtues.
Having stated in a former part of this treatise that men should choose
the mean instead of either the excess or defect, and that the mean is
according to the dictates of Right Reason; we will now proceed to
explain this term.
For in all the habits which we have expressly mentioned, as likewise in
all the others, there is, so to speak, a mark with his eye fixed on
which the man who has Reason tightens or slacks his rope; and there
is a certain limit of those mean states which we say are in accordance
with Right Reason, and lie between excess on the one hand and defect on
the other.
Now to speak thus is true enough but conveys no very definite meaning:
as, in fact, in all other pursuits requiring attention and diligence on
which skill and science are brought to bear; it is quite true of course
to say that men are neither to labour nor relax too much or too little,
but in moderation, and as Right Reason directs; yet if this were all a
man had he would not be greatly the wiser; as, for instance, if in
answer to the question, what are proper applications to the body, he
were to be told, “Oh! of course, whatever the science of medicine, and
in such manner as the physician, directs.”
And so in respect of the mental states it is requisite not merely that
this should be true which has been already stated, but further that it
should be expressly laid down what Right Reason is, and what is the
definition of it.
Now in our division of the Excellences of the Soul, we said there were
two classes, the Moral and the Intellectual: the former we have already
gone through; and we will now proceed to speak of the others, premising
a few words respecting the Soul itself. It was stated before, you will
remember, that the Soul consists of two parts, the Rational, and
Irrational: we must now make a similar division of the Rational.
Let it be understood then that there are two parts of the Soul
possessed of Reason; one whereby we realise those existences whose
causes cannot be otherwise than they are, and one whereby we realise
those which can be otherwise than they are, (for there must be,
answering to things generically different, generically different parts
of the soul naturally adapted to each, since these parts of the soul
possess their knowledge in virtue of a certain resemblance and
appropriateness in themselves to the objects of which they are
percipients); and let us name the former, “that which is apt to
know,” the latter, “that which is apt to calculate” (because
deliberating and calculating are the same, and no one ever deliberates
about things which cannot be otherwise than they are: and so the
Calculative will be one part of the Rational faculty of the soul).
We must discover, then, which is the best state of each of these,
because that will be the Excellence of each; and this again is relative
to the work each has to do.
There are in the Soul three functions on which depend moral action and
truth; Sense, Intellect, Appetition, whether vague Desire or definite
Will. Now of these Sense is the originating cause of no moral action,
as is seen from the fact that brutes have Sense but are in no way
partakers of moral action.
[Intellect and Will are thus connected,] what in the Intellectual
operation is Affirmation and Negation that in the Will is Pursuit and
Avoidance, And so, since Moral Virtue is a State apt to exercise Moral
Choice and Moral Choice is Will consequent on deliberation, the Reason
must be true and the Will right, to constitute good Moral Choice, and
what the Reason affirms the Will must pursue.
Now this Intellectual operation and this Truth is what bears upon Moral
Action; of course truth and falsehood must be the good and the bad of
that Intellectual Operation which is purely Speculative, and concerned
neither with action nor production, because this is manifestly the work
of every Intellectual faculty, while of the faculty which is of a mixed
Practical and Intellectual nature, the work is that Truth which, as I
have described above, corresponds to the right movement of the Will.
Now the starting-point of moral action is Moral Choice, (I mean, what
actually sets it in motion, not the final cause,) and of Moral
Choice, Appetition, and Reason directed to a certain result: and thus
Moral Choice is neither independent of intellect, i. e. intellectual
operation, nor of a certain moral state: for right or wrong action
cannot be, independently of operation of the Intellect, and moral
character.
But operation of the Intellect by itself moves nothing, only when
directed to a certain result, i. e. exercised in Moral Action: (I say
nothing of its being exercised in production, because this function is
originated by the former: for every one who makes makes with a view to
somewhat further; and that which is or may be made, is not an End in
itself, but only relatively to somewhat else, and belonging to some
one: whereas that which is or may be done is an End in itself,
because acting well is an End in itself, and this is the object of the
Will,) and so Moral Choice is either Intellect put in a position of
Will-ing, or Appetition subjected to an Intellectual Process. And such
a Cause is Man.
But nothing which is done and past can be the object of Moral Choice;
for instance, no man chooses to have sacked Troy; because, in fact, no
one ever deliberates about what is past, but only about that which is
future, and which may therefore be influenced, whereas what has been
cannot not have been: and so Agathon is right in saying
“Of this alone is Deity bereft,
To make undone whatever hath been done.”
Thus then Truth is the work of both the Intellectual Parts of the Soul;
those states therefore are the Excellences of each in which each will
best attain truth.
Commencing then from the point stated above we will now speak of these
Excellences again. Let those faculties whereby the Soul attains truth
in Affirmation or Negation, be assumed to be in number five: viz.
Art, Knowledge, Practical Wisdom, Science, Intuition: (Supposition and
Opinion I do not include, because by these one may go wrong.)
What Knowledge is, is plain from the following of considerations, if
one is to speak accurately, instead of being led away by resemblances.
For we all conceive that what we strictly speaking know, cannot be
otherwise than it is, because as to those things which can be otherwise
than they are, we are uncertain whether they are or are not, the moment
they cease to be within the sphere of our actual observation.
So then, whatever comes within the range of Knowledge is by necessity,
and therefore eternal, (because all things are so which exist
necessarily,) and all eternal things are without beginning, and
indestructible.
Again, all Knowledge is thought to be capable of being taught, and what
comes within its range capable of being learned. And all teaching is
based upon previous knowledge; (a statement you will find in the
Analytics also,) for there are two ways of teaching, by Syllogism
and by Induction. In fact. Induction is the source of universal
propositions, and Syllogism reasons from these universals.
Syllogism then may reason from principles which cannot be themselves
proved Syllogistically: and therefore must by Induction.
So Knowledge is “a state or mental faculty apt to demonstrate
syllogistically,” &c. as in the Analytics: because a man, strictly
and properly speaking, knows, when he establishes his conclusion in a
certain way, and the principles are known to him: for if they are not
better known to him than the conclusion, such knowledge as he has will
be merely accidental.
Let thus much be accepted as a definition of Knowledge.
Matter which may exist otherwise than it actually does in any given
case (commonly called Contingent) is of two kinds, that which is the
object of Making, and that which is the object of Doing; now Making and
Doing are two different things (as we show in the exoteric treatise),
and so that state of mind, conjoined with Reason, which is apt to Do,
is distinct from that also conjoined with Reason, which is apt to Make:
and for this reason they are not included one by the other, that is,
Doing is not Making, nor Making Doing. Now as Architecture is
an Art, and is the same as “a certain state of mind, conjoined with
Reason, which is apt to Make,” and as there is no Art which is not such
a state, nor any such state which is not an Art, Art, in its strict and
proper sense, must be “a state of mind, conjoined with true Reason, apt
to Make.”
Now all Art has to do with production, and contrivance, and seeing how
any of those things may be produced which may either be or not be, and
the origination of which rests with the maker and not with the thing
made.
And, so neither things which exist or come into being necessarily, nor
things in the way of nature, come under the province of Art, because
these are self-originating. And since Making and Doing are distinct,
Art must be concerned with the former and not the latter. And in a
certain sense Art and Fortune are concerned with the same things, as,
Agathon says by the way,
“Art Fortune loves, and is of her beloved.”
So Art, as has been stated, is “a certain state of mind, apt to Make,
conjoined with true Reason;” its absence, on the contrary, is the same
state conjoined with false Reason, and both are employed upon
Contingent matter.
As for Practical Wisdom, we shall ascertain its nature by examining to
what kind of persons we in common language ascribe it.
It is thought then to be the property of the Practically Wise man to be
able to deliberate well respecting what is good and expedient for
himself, not in any definite line, as what is conducive to health
or strength, but what to living well. A proof of this is that we call
men Wise in this or that, when they calculate well with a view to some
good end in a case where there is no definite rule. And so, in a
general way of speaking, the man who is good at deliberation will be
Practically Wise. Now no man deliberates respecting things which cannot
be otherwise than they are, nor such as lie not within the range of his
own action: and so, since Knowledge requires strict demonstrative
reasoning, of which Contingent matter does not admit (I say Contingent
matter, because all matters of deliberation must be Contingent and
deliberation cannot take place with respect to things which are
Necessarily), Practical Wisdom cannot be Knowledge nor Art; nor the
former, because what falls under the province of Doing must be
Contingent; not the latter, because Doing and Making are different in
kind.
It remains then that it must be “a state of mind true, conjoined with
Reason, and apt to Do, having for its object those things which are
good or bad for Man:” because of Making something beyond itself is
always the object, but cannot be of Doing because the very well-doing
is in itself an End.
For this reason we think Pericles and men of that stamp to be
Practically Wise, because they can see what is good for themselves and
for men in general, and we also think those to be such who are skilled
in domestic management or civil government. In fact, this is the reason
why we call the habit of perfected self-mastery by the name which in
Greek it bears, etymologically signifying “that which preserves the
Practical Wisdom:” for what it does preserve is the Notion I have
mentioned, i.e. of one’s own true interest.
For it is not every kind of Notion which the pleasant and the painful
corrupt and pervert, as, for instance, that “the three angles of every
rectilineal triangle are equal to two right angles,” but only those
bearing on moral action.
For the Principles of the matters of moral action are the final cause
of them: now to the man who has been corrupted by reason of
pleasure or pain the Principle immediately becomes obscured, nor does
he see that it is his duty to choose and act in each instance with a
view to this final cause and by reason of it: for viciousness has a
tendency to destroy the moral Principle: and so Practical Wisdom must
be “a state conjoined with reason, true, having human good for its
object, and apt to do.”
Then again Art admits of degrees of excellence, but Practical Wisdom
does not: and in Art he who goes wrong purposely is preferable to
him who does so unwittingly, but not so in respect of Practical
Wisdom or the other Virtues. It plainly is then an Excellence of a
certain kind, and not an Art.
Now as there are two parts of the Soul which have Reason, it must be
the Excellence of the Opinionative [which we called before calculative
or deliberative], because both Opinion and Practical Wisdom are
exercised upon Contingent matter. And further, it is not simply a state
conjoined with Reason, as is proved by the fact that such a state may
be forgotten and so lost while Practical Wisdom cannot.
Now Knowledge is a conception concerning universals and Necessary
matter, and there are of course certain First Principles in all trains
of demonstrative reasoning (that is of all Knowledge because this is
connected with reasoning): that faculty, then, which takes in the first
principles of that which comes under the range of Knowledge, cannot be
either Knowledge, or Art, or Practical Wisdom: not Knowledge, because
what is the object of Knowledge must be derived from demonstrative
reasoning; not either of the other two, because they are exercised upon
Contingent matter only. Nor can it be Science which takes in these,
because the Scientific Man must in some cases depend on demonstrative
Reasoning.
It comes then to this: since the faculties whereby we always attain
truth and are never deceived when dealing with matter Necessary or even
Contingent are Knowledge, Practical Wisdom, Science, and Intuition, and
the faculty which takes in First Principles cannot be any of the three
first; the last, namely Intuition, must be it which performs this
function.
Science is a term we use principally in two meanings: in the first
place, in the Arts we ascribe it to those who carry their arts to the
highest accuracy; Phidias, for instance, we call a Scientific or
cunning sculptor; Polycleitus a Scientific or cunning statuary;
meaning, in this instance, nothing else by Science than an excellence
of art: in the other sense, we think some to be Scientific in a general
way, not in any particular line or in any particular thing, just as
Homer says of a man in his Margites; “Him the Gods made neither a
digger of the ground, nor ploughman, nor in any other way Scientific.”
So it is plain that Science must mean the most accurate of all
Knowledge; but if so, then the Scientific man must not merely know the
deductions from the First Principles but be in possession of truth
respecting the First Principles. So that Science must be equivalent to
Intuition and Knowledge; it is, so to speak, Knowledge of the most
precious objects, with a head on.
I say of the most precious things, because it is absurd to suppose
πολιτικὴ, or Practical Wisdom, to be the highest, unless it can be
shown that Man is the most excellent of all that exists in the
Universe. Now if “healthy” and “good” are relative terms, differing
when applied to men or to fish, but “white” and “straight” are the same
always, men must allow that the Scientific is the same always, but the
Practically Wise varies: for whatever provides all things well for
itself, to this they would apply the term Practically Wise, and commit
these matters to it; which is the reason, by the way, that they call
some brutes Practically Wise, such that is as plainly have a faculty of
forethought respecting their own subsistence.
And it is quite plain that Science and πολιτικὴ cannot be identical:
because if men give the name of Science to that faculty which is
employed upon what is expedient for themselves, there will be many
instead of one, because there is not one and the same faculty employed
on the good of all animals collectively, unless in the same sense as
you may say there is one art of healing with respect to all living
beings.
If it is urged that man is superior to all other animals, that makes no
difference: for there are many other things more Godlike in their
nature than Man, as, most obviously, the elements of which the Universe
is composed.
It is plain then that Science is the union of Knowledge and Intuition,
and has for its objects those things which are most precious in their
nature. Accordingly, Anexagoras, Thales, and men of that stamp, people
call Scientific, but not Practically Wise because they see them
ignorant of what concerns themselves; and they say that what they know
is quite out of the common run certainly, and wonderful, and hard, and
very fine no doubt, but still useless because they do not seek after
what is good for them as men.
But Practical Wisdom is employed upon human matters, and such as are
objects of deliberation (for we say, that to deliberate well is most
peculiarly the work of the man who possesses this Wisdom), and no man
deliberates about things which cannot be otherwise than they are, nor
about any save those that have some definite End and this End good
resulting from Moral Action; and the man to whom we should give the
name of Good in Counsel, simply and without modification, is he who in
the way of calculation has a capacity for attaining that of practical
goods which is the best for Man.
Nor again does Practical Wisdom consist in a knowledge of general
principles only, but it is necessary that one should know also the
particular details, because it is apt to act, and action is concerned
with details: for which reason sometimes men who have not much
knowledge are more practical than others who have; among others, they
who derive all they know from actual experience: suppose a man to know,
for instance, that light meats are easy of digestion and wholesome, but
not what kinds of meat are light, he will not produce a healthy state;
that man will have a much better chance of doing so, who knows that the
flesh of birds is light and wholesome. Since then Practical Wisdom is
apt to act, one ought to have both kinds of knowledge, or, if only one,
the knowledge of details rather than of Principles. So there will be in
respect of Practical Wisdom the distinction of supreme and
subordinate.
Further: πολιτικὴ and Practical Wisdom are the same mental state, but
the point of view is not the same.
Of Practical Wisdom exerted upon a community that which I would call
the Supreme is the faculty of Legislation; the subordinate, which is
concerned with the details, generally has the common name πολιτικὴ, and
its functions are Action and Deliberation (for the particular enactment
is a matter of action, being the ultimate issue of this branch of
Practical Wisdom, and therefore people commonly say, that these men
alone are really engaged in government, because they alone act, filling
the same place relatively to legislators, that workmen do to a
master).
Again, that is thought to be Practical Wisdom in the most proper sense
which has for its object the interest of the Individual: and this
usually appropriates the common name: the others are called
respectively Domestic Management, Legislation, Executive Government
divided into two branches, Deliberative and Judicial. Now of
course, knowledge for one’s self is one kind of knowledge, but it
admits of many shades of difference: and it is a common notion that the
man who knows and busies himself about his own concerns merely is the
man of Practical Wisdom, while they who extend their solicitude to
society at large are considered meddlesome.
Euripides has thus embodied this sentiment; “How,” says one of his
Characters, “How foolish am I, who whereas I might have shared equally,
idly numbered among the multitude of the army *** for them that are
busy and meddlesome [Jove hates],” because the generality of mankind
seek their own good and hold that this is their proper business. It is
then from this opinion that the notion has arisen that such men are the
Practically-Wise. And yet it is just possible that the good of the
individual cannot be secured independently of connection with a family
or a community. And again, how a man should manage his own affairs is
sometimes not quite plain, and must be made a matter of enquiry.
A corroboration of what I have said is the fact, that the young
come to be geometricians, and mathematicians, and Scientific in such
matters, but it is not thought that a young man can come to be
possessed of Practical Wisdom: now the reason is, that this Wisdom has
for its object particular facts, which come to be known from
experience, which a young man has not because it is produced only by
length of time.
By the way, a person might also enquire, why a boy may be made a
mathematician but not Scientific or a natural philosopher. Is not this
the reason? that mathematics are taken in by the process of
abstraction, but the principles of Science and natural philosophy
must be gained by experiment; and the latter young men talk of but do
not realise, while the nature of the former is plain and clear.
Again, in matter of practice, error attaches either to the general
rule, in the process of deliberation, or to the particular fact: for
instance, this would be a general rule, “All water of a certain gravity
is bad;” the particular fact, “this water is of that gravity.”
And that Practical Wisdom is not Knowledge is plain, for it has to do
with the ultimate issue, as has been said, because every object of
action is of this nature.
To Intuition it is opposed, for this takes in those principles which
cannot be proved by reasoning, while Practical Wisdom is concerned with
the ultimate particular fact which cannot be realised by Knowledge but
by Sense; I do not mean one of the five senses, but the same by which
we take in the mathematical fact, that no rectilineal figure can be
contained by less than three lines, i.e. that a triangle is the
ultimate figure, because here also is a stopping point.
This however is Sense rather than Practical Wisdom, which is of another
kind.
Now the acts of enquiring and deliberating differ, though deliberating
is a kind of enquiring. We ought to ascertain about Good Counsel
likewise what it is, whether a kind of Knowledge, or Opinion, or Happy
Conjecture, or some other kind of faculty. Knowledge it obviously is
not, because men do not enquire about what they know, and Good Counsel
is a kind of deliberation, and the man who is deliberating is enquiring
and calculating.
Neither is it Happy Conjecture; because this is independent of
reasoning, and a rapid operation; but men deliberate a long time, and
it is a common saying that one should execute speedily what has been
resolved upon in deliberation, but deliberate slowly.
Quick perception of causes again is a different faculty from good
counsel, for it is a species of Happy Conjecture. Nor is Good Counsel
Opinion of any kind.
Well then, since he who deliberates ill goes wrong, and he who
deliberates well does so rightly, it is clear that Good Counsel is
rightness of some kind, but not of Knowledge nor of Opinion: for
Knowledge cannot be called right because it cannot be wrong, and
Rightness of Opinion is Truth: and again, all which is the object of
opinion is definitely marked out.
Still, however, Good Counsel is not independent of Reason, Does it
remain then that it is a rightness of Intellectual Operation simply,
because this does not amount to an assertion; and the objection to
Opinion was that it is not a process of enquiry but already a definite
assertion; whereas whosoever deliberates, whether well or ill, is
engaged in enquiry and calculation.
Well, Good Counsel is a Rightness of deliberation, and so the first
question must regard the nature and objects of deliberation. Now
remember Rightness is an equivocal term; we plainly do not mean
Rightness of any kind whatever; the ἀκρατὴς, for instance, or the bad
man, will obtain by his calculation what he sets before him as an
object, and so he may be said to have deliberated rightly in one
sense, but will have attained a great evil. Whereas to have deliberated
well is thought to be a good, because Good Counsel is Rightness of
deliberation of such a nature as is apt to attain good.
But even this again you may get by false reasoning, and hit upon the
right effect though not through right means, your middle term being
fallacious: and so neither will this be yet Good Counsel in consequence
of which you get what you ought but not through proper means.
Again, one man may hit on a thing after long deliberation, another
quickly. And so that before described will not be yet Good Counsel, but
the Rightness must be with reference to what is expedient; and you must
have a proper end in view, pursue it in a right manner and right time.
Once more. One may deliberate well either generally or towards some
particular End. Good counsel in the general then is that which goes
right towards that which is the End in a general way of consideration;
in particular, that which does so towards some particular End.
Since then deliberating well is a quality of men possessed of Practical
Wisdom, Good Counsel must be “Rightness in respect of what conduces to
a given End, of which Practical Wisdom is the true conception.”
There is too the faculty of Judiciousness, and also its absence, in
virtue of which we call men Judicious or the contrary.
Now Judiciousness is neither entirely identical with Knowledge or
Opinion (for then all would have been Judicious), nor is it any one
specific science, as medical science whose object matter is things
wholesome; or geometry whose object matter is magnitude: for it has not
for its object things which always exist and are immutable, nor of
those things which come into being just any which may chance; but those
in respect of which a man might doubt and deliberate.
And so it has the same object matter as Practical Wisdom; yet the two
faculties are not identical, because Practical Wisdom has the capacity
for commanding and taking the initiative, for its End is “what one
should do or not do:” but Judiciousness is only apt to decide upon
suggestions (though we do in Greek put “well” on to the faculty and its
concrete noun, these really mean exactly the same as the plain words),
and Judiciousness is neither the having Practical Wisdom, nor attaining
it: but just as learning is termed συνιέναι when a man uses his
knowledge, so judiciousness consists in employing the Opinionative
faculty in judging concerning those things which come within the
province of Practical Wisdom, when another enunciates them; and not
judging merely, but judging well (for εὐ and καλῶς mean exactly the
same thing). And the Greek name of this faculty is derived from the use
of the term συνιέναι in learning: μανθάνειν and συνιέναι being often
used as synonymous.
The faculty called γνώμη, in right of which we call men εὐγνώμονες,
or say they have γνώμη, is “the right judgment of the equitable man.” A
proof of which is that we most commonly say that the equitable man has
a tendency to make allowance, and the making allowance in certain cases
is equitable. And συγγνώμη (the word denoting allowance) is right γνώμη
having a capacity of making equitable decisions, By “right” I mean that
of the Truthful man.
Now all these mental states tend to the same object, as indeed
common language leads us to expect: I mean, we speak of γνώμη,
Judiciousness, Practical Wisdom, and Practical Intuition, attributing
the possession of γνώμη and Practical Intuition to the same Individuals
whom we denominate Practically-Wise and Judicious: because all these
faculties are employed upon the extremes, i.e. on particular
details; and in right of his aptitude for deciding on the matters which
come within the province of the Practically-Wise, a man is Judicious
and possessed of good γνώμη; i.e. he is disposed to make allowance, for
considerations of equity are entertained by all good men alike in
transactions with their fellows.
And all matters of Moral Action belong to the class of particulars,
otherwise called extremes: for the man of Practical Wisdom must know
them, and Judiciousness and γνώμη are concerned with matters of Moral
Actions, which are extremes.
Intuition, moreover, takes in the extremes at both ends: I mean,
the first and last terms must be taken in not by reasoning but by
Intuition [so that Intuition comes to be of two kinds], and that which
belongs to strict demonstrative reasonings takes in immutable, i.e.
Necessary, first terms; while that which is employed in practical
matters takes in the extreme, the Contingent, and the minor
Premiss: for the minor Premisses are the source of the Final Cause,
Universals being made up out of Particulars. To take in these, of
course, we must have Sense, i.e. in other words Practical Intuition.
And for this reason these are thought to be simply gifts of nature; and
whereas no man is thought to be Scientific by nature, men are thought
to have γνώμη, and Judiciousness, and Practical Intuition: a proof of
which is that we think these faculties are a consequence even of
particular ages, and this given age has Practical Intuition and γνώμη,
we say, as if under the notion that nature is the cause. And thus
Intuition is both the beginning and end, because the proofs are based
upon the one kind of extremes and concern the other.
And so one should attend to the undemonstrable dicta and opinions
of the skilful, the old and the Practically-Wise, no less than to those
which are based on strict reasoning, because they see aright, having
gained their power of moral vision from experience.
Well, we have now stated the nature and objects of Practical Wisdom and
Science respectively, and that they belong each to a different part of
the Soul. But I can conceive a person questioning their utility.
“Science,” he would say, “concerns itself with none of the causes of
human happiness (for it has nothing to do with producing anything):
Practical Wisdom has this recommendation, I grant, but where is the
need of it, since its province is those things which are just and
honourable, and good for man, and these are the things which the good
man as such does; but we are not a bit the more apt to do them because
we know them, since the Moral Virtues are Habits; just as we are not
more apt to be healthy or in good condition from mere knowledge of what
relates to these (I mean, of course, things so called not from
their producing health, etc., but from their evidencing it in a
particular subject), for we are not more apt to be healthy and in good
condition merely from knowing the art of medicine or training.
“If it be urged that knowing what is good does not by itself make a
Practically-Wise man but becoming good; still this Wisdom will be no
use either to those that are good, and so have it already, or to those
who have it not; because it will make no difference to them whether
they have it themselves or put themselves under the guidance of others
who have; and we might be contented to be in respect of this as in
respect of health: for though we wish to be healthy still we do not set
about learning the art of healing.
“Furthermore, it would seem to be strange that, though lower in the
scale than Science, it is to be its master; which it is, because
whatever produces results takes the rule and directs in each matter.”
This then is what we are to talk about, for these are the only points
now raised.
Now first we say that being respectively Excellences of different parts
of the Soul they must be choice-worthy, even on the supposition that
they neither of them produce results.
In the next place we say that they do produce results; that Science
makes Happiness, not as the medical art but as healthiness makes
health: because, being a part of Virtue in its most extensive
sense, it makes a man happy by being possessed and by working.
Next, Man’s work as Man is accomplished by virtue of Practical Wisdom
and Moral Virtue, the latter giving the right aim and direction, the
former the right means to its attainment; but of the fourth part of
the Soul, the mere nutritive principle, there is no such Excellence,
because nothing is in its power to do or leave undone.
As to our not being more apt to do what is noble and just by reason of
possessing Practical Wisdom, we must begin a little higher up,
taking this for our starting-point. As we say that men may do things in
themselves just and yet not be just men; for instance, when men do what
the laws require of them, either against their will, or by reason of
ignorance or something else, at all events not for the sake of the
things themselves; and yet they do what they ought and all that the
good man should do; so it seems that to be a good man one must do each
act in a particular frame of mind, I mean from Moral Choice and for the
sake of the things themselves which are done. Now it is Virtue which
makes the Moral Choice right, but whatever is naturally required to
carry out that Choice comes under the province not of Virtue but of a
different faculty. We must halt, as it were, awhile, and speak more
clearly on these points.
There is then a certain faculty, commonly named Cleverness, of such a
nature as to be able to do and attain whatever conduces to any given
purpose: now if that purpose be a good one the faculty is praiseworthy;
if otherwise, it goes by a name which, denoting strictly the ability,
implies the willingness to do anything; we accordingly call the
Practically-Wise Clever, and also those who can and will do
anything.
Now Practical Wisdom is not identical with Cleverness, nor is it
without this power of adapting means to ends: but this Eye of the Soul
(as we may call it) does not attain its proper state without goodness,
as we have said before and as is quite plain, because the syllogisms
into which Moral Action may be analysed have for their Major
Premiss, “since —— is the End and the Chief Good” (fill up the
blank with just anything you please, for we merely want to exhibit the
Form, so that anything will do), but how this blank should be filled
is seen only by the good man: because Vice distorts the moral vision
and causes men to be deceived in respect of practical principles.
It is clear, therefore, that a man cannot be a Practically-Wise,
without being a good, man.
We must enquire again also about Virtue: for it may be divided into
Natural Virtue and Matured, which two bear to each other a relation
similar to that which Practical Wisdom bears to Cleverness, one not of
identity but resemblance. I speak of Natural Virtue, because men hold
that each of the moral dispositions attach to us all somehow by nature:
we have dispositions towards justice, self-mastery and courage, for
instance, immediately from our birth: but still we seek Goodness in its
highest sense as something distinct from these, and that these
dispositions should attach to us in a somewhat different fashion.
Children and brutes have these natural states, but then they are
plainly hurtful unless combined with an intellectual element: at least
thus much is matter of actual experience and observation, that as a
strong body destitute of sight must, if set in motion, fall violently
because it has not sight, so it is also in the case we are considering:
but if it can get the intellectual element it then excels in acting.
Just so the Natural State of Virtue, being like this strong body, will
then be Virtue in the highest sense when it too is combined with the
intellectual element.
So that, as in the case of the Opinionative faculty, there are two
forms, Cleverness and Practical Wisdom; so also in the case of the
Moral there are two, Natural Virtue and Matured; and of these the
latter cannot be formed without Practical Wisdom.
This leads some to say that all the Virtues are merely intellectual
Practical Wisdom, and Socrates was partly right in his enquiry and
partly wrong: wrong in that he thought all the Virtues were merely
intellectual Practical Wisdom, right in saying they were not
independent of that faculty.
A proof of which is that now all, in defining Virtue, add on the
“state” [mentioning also to what standard it has reference, namely
that] “which is accordant with Right Reason:” now “right” means in
accordance with Practical Wisdom. So then all seem to have an
instinctive notion that that state which is in accordance with
Practical Wisdom is Virtue; however, we must make a slight change in
their statement, because that state is Virtue, not merely which is in
accordance with but which implies the possession of Right Reason;
which, upon such matters, is Practical Wisdom. The difference between
us and Socrates is this: he thought the Virtues were reasoning
processes (i.e. that they were all instances of Knowledge in its
strict sense), but we say they imply the possession of Reason.
From what has been said then it is clear that one cannot be, strictly
speaking, good without Practical Wisdom nor Practically-Wise without
moral goodness.
And by the distinction between Natural and Matured Virtue one can meet
the reasoning by which it might be argued “that the Virtues are
separable because the same man is not by nature most inclined to all at
once so that he will have acquired this one before he has that other:”
we would reply that this is possible with respect to the Natural
Virtues but not with respect to those in right of which a man is
denominated simply good: because they will all belong to him together
with the one faculty of Practical Wisdom.
It is plain too that even had it not been apt to act we should have
needed it, because it is the Excellence of a part of the Soul; and that
the moral choice cannot be right independently of Practical Wisdom and
Moral Goodness; because this gives the right End, that causes the doing
these things which conduce to the End.
Then again, it is not Master of Science (i.e. of the superior part of
the Soul), just as neither is the healing art Master of health; for it
does not make use of it, but looks how it may come to be: so it
commands for the sake of it but does not command it.
The objection is, in fact, about as valid as if a man should say
πολιτικὴ governs the gods because it gives orders about all things in
the communty.
APPENDIX
On ἐπισπήμη, from I. Post. Analyt. chap. i. and ii.
(Such parts only are translated as throw light on the Ethics.)
All teaching, and all intellectual learning, proceeds on the basis of
previous knowledge, as will appear on an examination of all. The
Mathematical Sciences, and every other system, draw their conclusions
in this method. So too of reasonings, whether by syllogism, or
induction: for both teach through what is previously known, the former
assuming the premisses as from wise men, the latter proving universals
from the evidentness of the particulars. In like manner too
rhetoricians persuade, either through examples (which amounts to
induction), or through enthymemes (which amounts to syllogism).
CHAP. II
Well, we suppose that we know things (in the strict and proper sense
of the word) when we suppose ourselves to know the cause by reason of
which the thing is to be the cause of it; and that this cannot be
otherwise. It is plain that the idea intended to be conveyed by the
term knowing is something of this kind; because they who do not
really know suppose themselves thus related to the matter in hand and
they who do know really are so that of whatsoever there is properly
speaking Knowledge this cannot be otherwise than it is Whether or no
there is another way of knowing we will say afterwards, but we do say
that we know through demonstration, by which I mean a syllogism apt to
produce Knowledge, i.e. in right of which through having it, we know.
If Knowledge then is such as we have described it, the Knowledge
produced by demonstrative reasoning must be drawn from premisses true
and first, and incapable of syllogistic proof, and better known,
and prior in order of time, and causes of the conclusion, for so
the principles will be akin to the conclusion demonstrated.
(Syllogism, of course there may be without such premisses, but it will
not be demonstration because it will not produce knowledge).
True, they must be, because it is impossible to know that which is
not.
First, that is indemonstrable, because, if demonstrable, he cannot be
said to know them who has no demonstration of them for knowing such
things as are demonstrable is the same as having demonstration of them.
Causes they must be, and better known, and prior in time,
causes, because we then know when we are acquainted with the cause,
and prior, if causes, and known beforehand, not merely comprehended
in idea but known to exist (The terms prior, and better known, bear two
senses for prior by nature and prior relatively to ourselves are
not the same, nor better known by nature, and better known to us I
mean, by prior and better known relatively to ourselves, such
things as are nearer to sensation, but abstractedly so such as are
further Those are furthest which are most universal those nearest which
are particulars, and these are mutually opposed.)
And by first, I mean principles akin to the conclusion, for
principle means the same as first And the principle or first step in
demonstration is a proposition incapable of syllogistic proof, i.e.
one to which there is none prior. Now of such syllogistic principles I
call that a θέσις which you cannot demonstrate, and which is
unnecessary with a view to learning something else. That which is
necessary in order to learn something else is an Axiom.
Further, since one is to believe and know the thing by having a
syllogism of the kind called demonstration, and what constitutes it to
be such is the nature of the premisses, it is necessary not merely to
know before, but to know better than the conclusion, either all or
at least some of, the principles, because that which is the cause of a
quality inhering in something else always inheres itself more as the
cause of our loving is itself more lovable. So, since the principles
are the cause of our knowing and behoving we know and believe them
more, because by reason of them we know also the conclusion following.
Further: the man who is to have the Knowledge which comes through
demonstration must not merely know and believe his principles better
than he does his conclusion, but he must believe nothing more firmly
than the contradictories of those principles out of which the contrary
fallacy may be constructed: since he who knows, is to be simply and
absolutely infallible.
Next we must take a different point to start from, and observe that
of what is to be avoided in respect of moral character there are three
forms; Vice, Imperfect Self-Control, and Brutishness. Of the two former
it is plain what the contraries are, for we call the one Virtue, the
other Self-Control; and as answering to Brutishness it will be most
suitable to assign Superhuman, i.e. heroical and godlike Virtue, as, in
Homer, Priam says of Hector “that he was very excellent, nor was he
like the offspring of mortal man, but of a god.” and so, if, as is
commonly said, men are raised to the position of gods by reason of very
high excellence in Virtue, the state opposed to the Brutish will
plainly be of this nature: because as brutes are not virtuous or
vicious so neither are gods; but the state of these is something more
precious than Virtue, of the former something different in kind from
Vice.
And as, on the one hand, it is a rare thing for a man to be godlike (a
term the Lacedæmonians are accustomed to use when they admire a man
exceedingly; σεῖος ἀνὴρ they call him), so the brutish man is rare;
the character is found most among barbarians, and some cases of it are
caused by disease or maiming; also such men as exceed in vice all
ordinary measures we therefore designate by this opprobrious term.
Well, we must in a subsequent place make some mention of this
disposition, and Vice has been spoken of before: for the present we
must speak of Imperfect Self-Control and its kindred faults of Softness
and Luxury, on the one hand, and of Self-Control and Endurance on the
other; since we are to conceive of them, not as being the same states
exactly as Virtue and Vice respectively, nor again as differing in
kind.
And we should adopt the same course as before, i.e. state the
phenomena, and, after raising and discussing difficulties which suggest
themselves, then exhibit, if possible, all the opinions afloat
respecting these affections of the moral character; or, if not all, the
greater part and the most important: for we may consider we have
illustrated the matter sufficiently when the difficulties have been
solved, and such theories as are most approved are left as a residuum.
The chief points may be thus enumerated. It is thought,
and praiseworthy, while Imperfect Self-Control and Softness belong to
that of things low and blameworthy.
to abide by his resolution, and the man of Imperfect Self-Control with
him who is apt to depart from his resolution.
instigation of his passions, knowing them to be wrong, while the man of
Self-Control, knowing his lusts to be wrong, refuses, by the influence
of reason, to follow their suggestions.
Self-Control and Endurance, and some say that every one who unites
these is a man of Perfect Self-Mastery, others do not.
Self-Control, and the man of Imperfect Self-Control, while others
distinguish between them.
man of Imperfect Self-Control, sometimes that men who are Practically
Wise and Clever are of Imperfect Self-Control.
but with the addition of the thing wherein, as in respect of anger, of
honour, and gain.
These then are pretty well the common statements.
Now a man may raise a question as to the nature of the right conception
in violation of which a man fails of Self-Control.
That he can so fail when knowing in the strict sense what is right
some say is impossible: for it is a strange thing, as Socrates thought,
that while Knowledge is present in his mind something else should
master him and drag him about like a slave. Socrates in fact contended
generally against the theory, maintaining there is no such state as
that of Imperfect Self-Control, for that no one acts contrary to what
is best conceiving it to be best but by reason of ignorance what is
best.
With all due respect to Socrates, his account of the matter is at
variance with plain facts, and we must enquire with respect to the
affection, if it be caused by ignorance what is the nature of the
ignorance: for that the man so failing does not suppose his acts to be
right before he is under the influence of passion is quite plain.
There are people who partly agree with Socrates and partly not: that
nothing can be stronger than Knowledge they agree, but that no man acts
in contravention of his conviction of what is better they do not agree;
and so they say that it is not Knowledge, but only Opinion, which the
man in question has and yet yields to the instigation of his pleasures.
But then, if it is Opinion and not Knowledge, that is it the opposing
conception be not strong but only mild (as in the case of real doubt),
the not abiding by it in the face of strong lusts would be excusable:
but wickedness is not excusable, nor is anything which deserves blame.
Well then, is it Practical Wisdom which in this case offers opposition:
for that is the strongest principle? The supposition is absurd, for we
shall have the same man uniting Practical Wisdom and Imperfect
Self-Control, and surely no single person would maintain that it is
consistent with the character of Practical Wisdom to do voluntarily
what is very wrong; and besides we have shown before that the very mark
of a man of this character is aptitude to act, as distinguished from
mere knowledge of what is right; because he is a man conversant with
particular details, and possessed of all the other virtues.
Again, if the having strong and bad lusts is necessary to the idea of
the man of Self-Control, this character cannot be identical with the
man of Perfected Self-Mastery, because the having strong desires or bad
ones does not enter into the idea of this latter character: and yet the
man of Self-Control must have such: for suppose them good; then the
moral state which should hinder a man from following their suggestions
must be bad, and so Self-Control would not be in all cases good:
suppose them on the other hand to be weak and not wrong, it would be
nothing grand; nor anything great, supposing them to be wrong and weak.
Again, if Self-Control makes a man apt to abide by all opinions without
exception, it may be bad, as suppose the case of a false opinion: and
if Imperfect Self-Control makes a man apt to depart from all without
exception, we shall have cases where it will be good; take that of
Neoptolemus in the Philoctetes of Sophocles, for instance: he is to be
praised for not abiding by what he was persuaded to by Ulysses, because
he was pained at being guilty of falsehood.
Or again, false sophistical reasoning presents a difficulty: for
because men wish to prove paradoxes that they may be counted clever
when they succeed, the reasoning that has been used becomes a
difficulty: for the intellect is fettered; a man being unwilling to
abide by the conclusion because it does not please his judgment, but
unable to advance because he cannot disentangle the web of sophistical
reasoning.
Or again, it is conceivable on this supposition that folly joined with
Imperfect Self-Control may turn out, in a given case, goodness: for by
reason of his imperfection of self-control a man acts in a way which
contradicts his notions; now his notion is that what is really good is
bad and ought not to be done; and so he will eventually do what is good
and not what is bad.
Again, on the same supposition, the man who acting on conviction
pursues and chooses things because they are pleasant must be thought a
better man than he who does so not by reason of a quasi-rational
conviction but of Imperfect Self-Control: because he is more open to
cure by reason of the possibility of his receiving a contrary
conviction. But to the man of Imperfect Self-Control would apply the
proverb, “when water chokes, what should a man drink then?” for had he
never been convinced at all in respect of what he does, then by a
conviction in a contrary direction he might have stopped in his course;
but now though he has had convictions he notwithstanding acts against
them.
Again, if any and every thing is the object-matter of Imperfect and
Perfect Self-Control, who is the man of Imperfect Self-Control simply?
because no one unites all cases of it, and we commonly say that some
men are so simply, not adding any particular thing in which they are
so.
Well, the difficulties raised are pretty near such as I have described
them, and of these theories we must remove some and leave others as
established; because the solving of a difficulty is a positive act of
establishing something as true.
Now we must examine first whether men of Imperfect Self-Control act
with a knowledge of what is right or not: next, if with such knowledge,
in what sense; and next what are we to assume is the object-matter of
the man of Imperfect Self-Control, and of the man of Self-Control; I
mean, whether pleasure and pain of all kinds or certain definite ones;
and as to Self-Control and Endurance, whether these are designations of
the same character or different. And in like manner we must go into all
questions which are connected with the present.
But the real starting point of the enquiry is, whether the two
characters of Self-Control and Imperfect Self-Control are distinguished
by their object-matter, or their respective relations to it. I mean,
whether the man of Imperfect Self-Control is such simply by virtue of
having such and such object-matter; or not, but by virtue of his being
related to it in such and such a way, or by virtue of both: next,
whether Self-Control and Imperfect Self-Control are unlimited in their
object-matter: because he who is designated without any addition a man
of Imperfect Self-Control is not unlimited in his object-matter, but
has exactly the same as the man who has lost all Self-Control: nor is
he so designated because of his relation to this object-matter merely
(for then his character would be identical with that just mentioned,
loss of all Self-Control), but because of his relation to it being such
and such. For the man who has lost all Self-Control is led on with
deliberate moral choice, holding that it is his line to pursue pleasure
as it rises: while the man of Imperfect Self-Control does not think
that he ought to pursue it, but does pursue it all the same.
Now as to the notion that it is True Opinion and not Knowledge in
contravention of which men fail in Self-Control, it makes no difference
to the point in question, because some of those who hold Opinions have
no doubt about them but suppose themselves to have accurate Knowledge;
if then it is urged that men holding Opinions will be more likely than
men who have Knowledge to act in contravention of their conceptions, as
having but a moderate belief in them; we reply, Knowledge will not
differ in this respect from Opinion: because some men believe their own
Opinions no less firmly than others do their positive Knowledge:
Heraclitus is a case in point.
Rather the following is the account of it: the term knowing has two
senses; both the man who does not use his Knowledge, and he who does,
are said to know: there will be a difference between a man’s acting
wrongly, who though possessed of Knowledge does not call it into
operation, and his doing so who has it and actually exercises it: the
latter is a strange case, but the mere having, if not exercising,
presents no anomaly.
Again, as there are two kinds of propositions affecting action,
universal and particular, there is no reason why a man may not act
against his Knowledge, having both propositions in his mind, using the
universal but not the particular, for the particulars are the objects
of moral action.
There is a difference also in universal propositions; a universal
proposition may relate partly to a man’s self and partly to the thing
in question: take the following for instance; “dry food is good for
every man,” this may have the two minor premisses, “this is a man,” and
“so and so is dry food;” but whether a given substance is so and so a
man either has not the Knowledge or does not exert it. According to
these different senses there will be an immense difference, so that for
a man to know in the one sense, and yet act wrongly, would be nothing
strange, but in any of the other senses it would be a matter for
wonder.
Again, men may have Knowledge in a way different from any of those
which have been now stated: for we constantly see a man’s state so
differing by having and not using Knowledge, that he has it in a sense
and also has not; when a man is asleep, for instance, or mad, or drunk:
well, men under the actual operation of passion are in exactly similar
conditions; for anger, lust, and some other such-like things,
manifestly make changes even in the body, and in some they even cause
madness; it is plain then that we must say the men of Imperfect
Self-Control are in a state similar to these.
And their saying what embodies Knowledge is no proof of their actually
then exercising it, because they who are under the operation of these
passions repeat demonstrations; or verses of Empedocles, just as
children, when first learning, string words together, but as yet know
nothing of their meaning, because they must grow into it, and this is a
process requiring time: so that we must suppose these men who fail in
Self-Control to say these moral sayings just as actors do.
Furthermore, a man may look at the account of the phænomenon in the
following way, from an examination of the actual working of the mind:
All action may be analysed into a syllogism, in which the one premiss
is an universal maxim and the other concerns particulars of which Sense
[moral or physical, as the case may be] is cognisant: now when one
results from these two, it follows necessarily that, as far as theory
goes the mind must assert the conclusion, and in practical propositions
the man must act accordingly.
For instance, let the universal be, “All that is sweet should be
tasted,” the particular, “This is sweet;” it follows necessarily that
he who is able and is not hindered should not only draw, but put in
practice, the conclusion “This is to be tasted.” When then there is in
the mind one universal proposition forbidding to taste, and the other
“All that is sweet is pleasant” with its minor “This is sweet” (which
is the one that really works), and desire happens to be in the man, the
first universal bids him avoid this but the desire leads him on to
taste; for it has the power of moving the various organs: and so it
results that he fails in Self-Control, in a certain sense under the
influence of Reason and Opinion not contrary in itself to Reason but
only accidentally so; because it is the desire that is contrary to
Right Reason, but not the Opinion: and so for this reason brutes are
not accounted of Imperfect Self-Control, because they have no power of
conceiving universals but only of receiving and retaining particular
impressions.
As to the manner in which the ignorance is removed and the man of
Imperfect Self-Control recovers his Knowledge, the account is the same
as with respect to him who is drunk or asleep, and is not peculiar to
this affection, so physiologists are the right people to apply to.
But whereas the minor premiss of every practical syllogism is an
opinion on matter cognisable by Sense and determines the actions; he
who is under the influence of passion either has not this, or so has it
that his having does not amount to knowing but merely saying, as a
man when drunk might repeat Empedocles’ verses; and because the minor
term is neither universal, nor is thought to have the power of
producing Knowledge in like manner as the universal term: and so the
result which Socrates was seeking comes out, that is to say, the
affection does not take place in the presence of that which is thought
to be specially and properly Knowledge, nor is this dragged about by
reason of the affection, but in the presence of that Knowledge which is
conveyed by Sense.
Let this account then be accepted of the question respecting the
failure in Self-Control, whether it is with Knowledge, and the manner
in which such failure is possible or not, though a man possesses
Knowledge.
The next question to be discussed is whether there is a character to be
designated by the term “of Imperfect Self-Control” simply, or whether
all who are so are to be accounted such, in respect of some particular
thing; and, if there is such a character, what is his object-matter.
Now that pleasures and pains are the object-matter of men of
Self-Control and of Endurance, and also of men of Imperfect
Self-Control and Softness, is plain.
Further, things which produce pleasure are either necessary, or objects
of choice in themselves but yet admitting of excess. All bodily things
which produce pleasure are necessary; and I call such those which
relate to food and other grosser appetities, in short such bodily
things as we assumed were the Object-matter of absence of Self-Control
and of Perfected Self-Mastery.
The other class of objects are not necessary, but objects of choice in
themselves: I mean, for instance, victory, honour, wealth, and
such-like good or pleasant things. And those who are excessive in their
liking for such things contrary to the principle of Right Reason which
is in their own breasts we do not designate men of Imperfect
Self-Control simply, but with the addition of the thing wherein, as in
respect of money, or gain, or honour, or anger, and not simply; because
we consider them as different characters and only having that title in
right of a kind of resemblance (as when we add to a man’s name
“conqueror in the Olympic games” the account of him as Man differs but
little from the account of him as the Man who conquered in the Olympic
games, but still it is different). And a proof of the real difference
between these so designated with an addition and those simply so called
is this, that Imperfect Self-Control is blamed, not as an error merely
but also as being a vice, either wholly or partially; but none of these
other cases is so blamed.
But of those who have for their object-matter the bodily enjoyments,
which we say are also the object-matter of the man of Perfected
Self-Mastery and the man who has lost all Self-Control, he that pursues
excessive pleasures and too much avoids things which are painful
(as hunger and thirst, heat and cold, and everything connected with
touch and taste), not from moral choice but in spite of his moral
choice and intellectual conviction, is termed “a man of Imperfect
Self-Control,” not with the addition of any particular object-matter as
we do in respect of want of control of anger but simply.
And a proof that the term is thus applied is that the kindred term
“Soft” is used in respect of these enjoyments but not in respect of any
of those others. And for this reason we put into the same rank the man
of Imperfect Self-Control, the man who has lost it entirely, the man
who has it, and the man of Perfected Self-Mastery; but not any of those
other characters, because the former have for their object-matter the
same pleasures and pains: but though they have the same object-matter,
they are not related to it in the same way, but two of them act upon
moral choice, two without it. And so we should say that man is more
entirely given up to his passions who pursues excessive pleasures, and
avoids moderate pains, being either not at all, or at least but little,
urged by desire, than the man who does so because his desire is very
strong: because we think what would the former be likely to do if he
had the additional stimulus of youthful lust and violent pain
consequent on the want of those pleasures which we have denominated
necessary?
Well then, since of desires and pleasures there are some which are in
kind honourable and good (because things pleasant are divisible, as we
said before, into such as are naturally objects of choice, such as are
naturally objects of avoidance, and such as are in themselves
indifferent, money, gain, honour, victory, for instance); in respect of
all such and those that are indifferent, men are blamed not merely
for being affected by or desiring or liking them, but for exceeding in
any way in these feelings.
And so they are blamed, whosoever in spite of Reason are mastered by,
that is pursue, any object, though in its nature noble and good; they,
for instance, who are more earnest than they should be respecting
honour, or their children or parents; not but what these are good
objects and men are praised for being earnest about them: but still
they admit of excess; for instance, if any one, as Niobe did, should
fight even against the gods, or feel towards his father as Satyrus, who
got therefrom the nickname of φιλοπάτωρ, because he was thought to be
very foolish.
Now depravity there is none in regard of these things, for the reason
assigned above, that each of them in itself is a thing naturally
choice-worthy, yet the excesses in respect of them are wrong and matter
for blame: and similarly there is no Imperfect Self-Control in respect
of these things; that being not merely a thing that should be avoided
but blameworthy.
But because of the resemblance of the affection to the Imperfection of
Self-Control the term is used with the addition in each case of the
particular object-matter, just as men call a man a bad physician, or
bad actor, whom they would not think of calling simply bad. As then in
these cases we do not apply the term simply because each of the states
is not a vice, but only like a vice in the way of analogy, so it is
plain that in respect of Imperfect Self-Control and Self-Control we
must limit the names to those states which have the same object-matter
as Perfected Self-Mastery and utter loss of Self-Control, and that we
do apply it to the case of anger only in the way of resemblance: for
which reason, with an addition, we designate a man of Imperfect
Self-Control in respect of anger, as of honour or of gain.
As there are some things naturally pleasant, and of these two kinds;
those, namely, which are pleasant generally, and those which are so
relatively to particular kinds of animals and men; so there are others
which are not naturally pleasant but which come to be so in consequence
either of maimings, or custom, or depraved natural tastes: and one may
observe moral states similar to those we have been speaking of, having
respectively these classes of things for their object-matter.
I mean the Brutish, as in the case of the female who, they say, would
rip up women with child and eat the foetus; or the tastes which are
found among the savage tribes bordering on the Pontus, some liking raw
flesh, and some being cannibals, and some lending one another their
children to make feasts of; or what is said of Phalaris. These are
instances of Brutish states, caused in some by disease or madness;
take, for instance, the man who sacrificed and ate his mother, or him
who devoured the liver of his fellow-servant. Instances again of those
caused by disease or by custom, would be, plucking out of hair, or
eating one’s nails, or eating coals and earth. Now wherever nature
is really the cause no one would think of calling men of Imperfect
Self-Control, … nor, in like manner, such as are in a diseased state
through custom.
The having any of these inclinations is something foreign to what is
denominated Vice, just as Brutishness is: and when a man has them his
mastering them is not properly Self-Control, nor his being mastered by
them Imperfection of Self-Control in the proper sense, but only in the
way of resemblance; just as we may say a man of ungovernable wrath
fails of Self-Control in respect of anger but not simply fails of
Self-Control. For all excessive folly, cowardice, absence of
Self-Control, or irritability, are either Brutish or morbid. The man,
for instance, who is naturally afraid of all things, even if a mouse
should stir, is cowardly after a Brutish sort; there was a man again
who, by reason of disease, was afraid of a cat: and of the fools, they
who are naturally destitute of Reason and live only by Sense are
Brutish, as are some tribes of the far-off barbarians, while others who
are so by reason of diseases, epileptic or frantic, are in morbid
states.
So then, of these inclinations, a man may sometimes merely have one
without yielding to it: I mean, suppose that Phalaris had restrained
his unnatural desire to eat a child: or he may both have and yield to
it. As then Vice when such as belongs to human nature is called Vice
simply, while the other is so called with the addition of “brutish” or
“morbid,” but not simply Vice, so manifestly there is Brutish and
Morbid Imperfection of Self-Control, but that alone is entitled to the
name without any qualification which is of the nature of utter absence
of Self-Control, as it is found in Man.
It is plain then that the object-matter of Imperfect Self-Control and
Self-Control is restricted to the same as that of utter absence of
Self-Control and that of Perfected Self-Mastery, and that the rest is
the object-matter of a different species so named metaphorically and
not simply: we will now examine the position, “that Imperfect
Self-Control in respect of Anger is less disgraceful than that in
respect of Lusts.”
In the first place, it seems that Anger does in a way listen to Reason
but mishears it; as quick servants who run out before they have heard
the whole of what is said and then mistake the order; dogs, again, bark
at the slightest stir, before they have seen whether it be friend or
foe; just so Anger, by reason of its natural heat and quickness,
listening to Reason, but without having heard the command of Reason,
rushes to its revenge. That is to say, Reason or some impression on the
mind shows there is insolence or contempt in the offender, and then
Anger, reasoning as it were that one ought to fight against what is
such, fires up immediately: whereas Lust, if Reason or Sense, as the
case may be, merely says a thing is sweet, rushes to the enjoyment of
it: and so Anger follows Reason in a manner, but Lust does not and is
therefore more disgraceful: because he that cannot control his anger
yields in a manner to Reason, but the other to his Lust and not to
Reason at all.
Again, a man is more excusable for following such desires as are
natural, just as he is for following such Lusts as are common to all
and to that degree in which they are common. Now Anger and irritability
are more natural than Lusts when in excess and for objects not
necessary. (This was the ground of the defence the man made who beat
his father, “My father,” he said, “used to beat his, and his father his
again, and this little fellow here,” pointing to his child, “will beat
me when he is grown a man: it runs in the family.” And the father, as
he was being dragged along, bid his son leave off beating him at the
door, because he had himself been used to drag his father so far and no
farther.)
Again, characters are less unjust in proportion as they involve less
insidiousness. Now the Angry man is not insidious, nor is Anger, but
quite open: but Lust is: as they say of Venus,
“Cyprus-born Goddess, weaver of deceits”
Or Homer of the girdle called the Cestus,
“Persuasiveness cheating e’en the subtlest mind.”
And so since this kind of Imperfect Self-Control is more unjust, it is
also more disgraceful than that in respect of Anger, and is simply
Imperfect Self-Control, and Vice in a certain sense.
Again, no man feels pain in being insolent, but every one who acts
through Anger does act with pain; and he who acts insolently does it
with pleasure. If then those things are most unjust with which we have
most right to be angry, then Imperfect Self-Control, arising from Lust,
is more so than that arising from Anger: because in Anger there is no
insolence.
Well then, it is clear that Imperfect Self-Control in respect of Lusts
is more disgraceful than that in respect of Anger, and that the
object-matter of Self-Control, and the Imperfection of it, are bodily
Lusts and pleasures; but of these last we must take into account the
differences; for, as was said at the commencement, some are proper to
the human race and natural both in kind and degree, others Brutish, and
others caused by maimings and diseases.
Now the first of these only are the object-matter of Perfected
Self-Mastery and utter absence of Self-Control; and therefore we never
attribute either of these states to Brutes (except metaphorically, and
whenever any one kind of animal differs entirely from another in
insolence, mischievousness, or voracity), because they have not moral
choice or process of deliberation, but are quite different from that
kind of creature just as are madmen from other men.
Brutishness is not so low in the scale as Vice, yet it is to be
regarded with more fear: because it is not that the highest principle
has been corrupted, as in the human creature, but the subject has it
not at all.
It is much the same, therefore, as if one should compare an inanimate
with an animate being, which were the worse: for the badness of that
which has no principle of origination is always less harmful; now
Intellect is a principle of origination. A similar case would be the
comparing injustice and an unjust man together: for in different ways
each is the worst: a bad man would produce ten thousand times as much
harm as a bad brute.
Now with respect to the pleasures and pains which come to a man through
Touch and Taste, and the desiring or avoiding such (which we determined
before to constitute the object-matter of the states of utter absence
of Self-Control and Perfected Self-Mastery), one may be so disposed as
to yield to temptations to which most men would be superior, or to be
superior to those to which most men would yield: in respect of
pleasures, these characters will be respectively the man of Imperfect
Self-Control, and the man of Self-Control; and, in respect of pains,
the man of Softness and the man of Endurance: but the moral state of
most men is something between the two, even though they lean somewhat
to the worse characters.
Again, since of the pleasures indicated some are necessary and some are
not, others are so to a certain degree but not the excess or defect of
them, and similarly also of Lusts and pains, the man who pursues the
excess of pleasant things, or such as are in themselves excess, or from
moral choice, for their own sake, and not for anything else which is to
result from them, is a man utterly void of Self-Control: for he must be
incapable of remorse, and so incurable, because he that has not remorse
is incurable. (He that has too little love of pleasure is the opposite
character, and the man of Perfected Self-Mastery the mean character.)
He is of a similar character who avoids the bodily pains, not because
he cannot, but because he chooses not to, withstand them.
But of the characters who go wrong without choosing so to do, the one
is led on by reason of pleasure, the other because he avoids the pain
it would cost him to deny his lust; and so they are different the one
from the other. Now every one would pronounce a man worse for doing
something base without any impulse of desire, or with a very slight
one, than for doing the same from the impulse of a very strong desire;
for striking a man when not angry than if he did so in wrath: because
one naturally says, “What would he have done had he been under the
influence of passion?” (and on this ground, by the bye, the man utterly
void of Self-Control is worse than he who has it imperfectly). However,
of the two characters which have been mentioned, [as included in
that of utter absence of Self-Control], the one is rather Softness, the
other properly the man of no Self-Control.
Furthermore, to the character of Imperfect Self-Control is opposed that
of Self-Control, and to that of Softness that of Endurance: because
Endurance consists in continued resistance but Self-Control in actual
mastery, and continued resistance and actual mastery are as different
as not being conquered is from conquering; and so Self-Control is more
choice-worthy than Endurance.
Again, he who fails when exposed to those temptations against which the
common run of men hold out, and are well able to do so, is Soft and
Luxurious (Luxury being a kind of Softness): the kind of man, I mean,
to let his robe drag in the dirt to avoid the trouble of lifting it,
and who, aping the sick man, does not however suppose himself wretched
though he is like a wretched man. So it is too with respect to
Self-Control and the Imperfection of it: if a man yields to pleasures
or pains which are violent and excessive it is no matter for wonder,
but rather for allowance if he made what resistance he could (instances
are, Philoctetes in Theodectes’ drama when wounded by the viper; or
Cercyon in the Alope of Carcinus, or men who in trying to suppress
laughter burst into a loud continuous fit of it, as happened, you
remember, to Xenophantus), but it is a matter for wonder when a man
yields to and cannot contend against those pleasures or pains which the
common herd are able to resist; always supposing his failure not to be
owing to natural constitution or disease, I mean, as the Scythian kings
are constitutionally Soft, or the natural difference between the sexes.
Again, the man who is a slave to amusement is commonly thought to be
destitute of Self-Control, but he really is Soft; because amusement is
an act of relaxing, being an act of resting, and the character in
question is one of those who exceed due bounds in respect of this.
Moreover of Imperfect Self-Control there are two forms, Precipitancy
and Weakness: those who have it in the latter form though they have
made resolutions do not abide by them by reason of passion; the others
are led by passion because they have never formed any resolutions at
all: while there are some who, like those who by tickling themselves
beforehand get rid of ticklishness, having felt and seen beforehand the
approach of temptation, and roused up themselves and their resolution,
yield not to passion; whether the temptation be somewhat pleasant or
somewhat painful. The Precipitate form of Imperfect Self-Control they
are most liable to who are constitutionally of a sharp or melancholy
temperament: because the one by reason of the swiftness, the other by
reason of the violence, of their passions, do not wait for Reason,
because they are disposed to follow whatever notion is impressed upon
their minds.
Again, the man utterly destitute of Self-Control, as was observed
before, is not given to remorse: for it is part of his character that
he abides by his moral choice: but the man of Imperfect Self-Control is
almost made up of remorse: and so the case is not as we determined it
before, but the former is incurable and the latter may be cured: for
depravity is like chronic diseases, dropsy and consumption for
instance, but Imperfect Self-Control is like acute disorders: the
former being a continuous evil, the latter not so. And, in fact,
Imperfect Self-Control and Confirmed Vice are different in kind: the
latter being imperceptible to its victim, the former not so.
But, of the different forms of Imperfect Self-Control, those are better
who are carried off their feet by a sudden access of temptation than
they who have Reason but do not abide by it; these last being overcome
by passion less in degree, and not wholly without premeditation as are
the others: for the man of Imperfect Self-Control is like those who are
soon intoxicated and by little wine and less than the common run of
men.
Well then, that Imperfection of Self-Control is not Confirmed
Viciousness is plain: and yet perhaps it is such in a way, because in
one sense it is contrary to moral choice and in another the result of
it: at all events, in respect of the actions, the case is much like
what Demodocus said of the Miletians. “The people of Miletus are not
fools, but they do just the kind of things that fools do;” and so they
of Imperfect Self-Control are not unjust, but they do unjust acts.
But to resume. Since the man of Imperfect Self-Control is of such a
character as to follow bodily pleasures in excess and in defiance of
Right Reason, without acting on any deliberate conviction, whereas the
man utterly destitute of Self-Control does act upon a conviction which
rests on his natural inclination to follow after these pleasures; the
former may be easily persuaded to a different course, but the latter
not: for Virtue and Vice respectively preserve and corrupt the moral
principle; now the motive is the principle or starting point in moral
actions, just as axioms and postulates are in mathematics: and neither
in morals nor mathematics is it Reason which is apt to teach the
principle; but Excellence, either natural or acquired by custom, in
holding right notions with respect to the principle. He who does this
in morals is the man of Perfected Self-Mastery, and the contrary
character is the man utterly destitute of Self-Control.
Again, there is a character liable to be taken off his feet in defiance
of Right Reason because of passion; whom passion so far masters as to
prevent his acting in accordance with Right Reason, but not so far as
to make him be convinced that it is his proper line to follow after
such pleasures without limit: this character is the man of Imperfect
Self- Control, better than he who is utterly destitute of it, and not a
bad man simply and without qualification: because in him the highest
and best part, i.e. principle, is preserved: and there is another
character opposed to him who is apt to abide by his resolutions, and
not to depart from them; at all events, not at the instigation of
passion.
It is evident then from all this, that Self-Control is a good state and
the Imperfection of it a bad one.
Next comes the question, whether a man is a man of Self-Control for
abiding by his conclusions and moral choice be they of what kind they
may, or only by the right one; or again, a man of Imperfect
Self-Control for not abiding by his conclusions and moral choice be
they of whatever kind; or, to put the case we did before, is he such
for not abiding by false conclusions and wrong moral choice?
Is not this the truth, that incidentally it is by conclusions and
moral choice of any kind that the one character abides and the other
does not, but per se true conclusions and right moral choice: to
explain what is meant by incidentally, and per se; suppose a man
chooses or pursues this thing for the sake of that, he is said to
pursue and choose that per se, but this only incidentally. For the
term per se we use commonly the word “simply,” and so, in a way, it
is opinion of any kind soever by which the two characters respectively
abide or not, but he is “simply” entitled to the designations who
abides or not by the true opinion.
There are also people, who have a trick of abiding by their, own
opinions, who are commonly called Positive, as they who are hard to be
persuaded, and whose convictions are not easily changed: now these
people bear some resemblance to the character of Self-Control, just as
the prodigal to the liberal or the rash man to the brave, but they are
different in many points. The man of Self-Control does not change by
reason of passion and lust, yet when occasion so requires he will be
easy of persuasion: but the Positive man changes not at the call of
Reason, though many of this class take up certain desires and are led
by their pleasures. Among the class of Positive are the Opinionated,
the Ignorant, and the Bearish: the first, from the motives of pleasure
and pain: I mean, they have the pleasurable feeling of a kind of
victory in not having their convictions changed, and they are pained
when their decrees, so to speak, are reversed: so that, in fact, they
rather resemble the man of Imperfect Self-Control than the man of
Self-Control.
Again, there are some who depart from their resolutions not by reason
of any Imperfection of Self-Control; take, for instance, Neoptolemus in
the Philoctetes of Sophocles. Here certainly pleasure was the motive of
his departure from his resolution, but then it was one of a noble sort:
for to be truthful was noble in his eyes and he had been persuaded by
Ulysses to lie.
So it is not every one who acts from the motive of pleasure who is
utterly destitute of Self-Control or base or of Imperfect Self-Control,
only he who acts from the impulse of a base pleasure.
Moreover as there is a character who takes less pleasure than he ought
in bodily enjoyments, and he also fails to abide by the conclusion of
his Reason, the man of Self-Control is the mean between him and the
man of Imperfect Self-Control: that is to say, the latter fails to
abide by them because of somewhat too much, the former because of
somewhat too little; while the man of Self-Control abides by them, and
never changes by reason of anything else than such conclusions.
Now of course since Self-Control is good both the contrary States must
be bad, as indeed they plainly are: but because the one of them is seen
in few persons, and but rarely in them, Self-Control comes to be viewed
as if opposed only to the Imperfection of it, just as Perfected
Self-Mastery is thought to be opposed only to utter want of
Self-Control.
Again, as many terms are used in the way of similitude, so people have
come to talk of the Self-Control of the man of Perfected Self-Mastery
in the way of similitude: for the man of Self-Control and the man of
Perfected Self-Mastery have this in common, that they do nothing
against Right Reason on the impulse of bodily pleasures, but then the
former has bad desires, the latter not; and the latter is so
constituted as not even to feel pleasure contrary to his Reason, the
former feels but does not yield to it.
Like again are the man of Imperfect Self-Control and he who is utterly
destitute of it, though in reality distinct: both follow bodily
pleasures, but the latter under a notion that it is the proper line for
him to take, his former without any such notion.
And it is not possible for the same man to be at once a man of
Practical Wisdom and of Imperfect Self-Control: because the character
of Practical Wisdom includes, as we showed before, goodness of moral
character. And again, it is not knowledge merely, but aptitude for
action, which constitutes Practical Wisdom: and of this aptitude the
man of Imperfect Self-Control is destitute. But there is no reason why
the Clever man should not be of Imperfect Self-Control: and the reason
why some men are occasionally thought to be men of Practical Wisdom,
and yet of Imperfect Self-Control, is this, that Cleverness differs
from Practical Wisdom in the way I stated in a former book, and is very
near it so far as the intellectual element is concerned but differs in
respect of the moral choice.
Nor is the man of Imperfect Self-Control like the man who both has and
calls into exercise his knowledge, but like the man who, having it, is
overpowered by sleep or wine. Again, he acts voluntarily (because he
knows, in a certain sense, what he does and the result of it), but he
is not a confirmed bad man, for his moral choice is good, so he is at
all events only half bad. Nor is he unjust, because he does not act
with deliberate intent: for of the two chief forms of the character,
the one is not apt to abide by his deliberate resolutions, and the
other, the man of constitutional strength of passion, is not apt to
deliberate at all.
So in fact the man of Imperfect Self-Control is like a community which
makes all proper enactments, and has admirable laws, only does not act
on them, verifying the scoff of Anaxandrides,
“That State did will it, which cares nought for laws;”
whereas the bad man is like one which acts upon its laws, but then
unfortunately they are bad ones.
Imperfection of Self-Control and Self-Control, after all, are above the
average state of men; because he of the latter character is more true
to his Reason, and the former less so, than is in the power of most
men.
Again, of the two forms of Imperfect Self-Control that is more easily
cured which they have who are constitutionally of strong passions, than
that of those who form resolutions and break them; and they that are so
through habituation than they that are so naturally; since of course
custom is easier to change than nature, because the very resemblance of
custom to nature is what constitutes the difficulty of changing it; as
Evenus says,
“Practice, I say, my friend, doth long endure,
And at the last is even very nature.”
We have now said then what Self-Control is, what Imperfection of
Self-Control, what Endurance, and what Softness, and how these states
are mutually related.
APPENDIX.
To consider the subject of Pleasure and Pain falls within the province
of the Social-Science Philosopher, since he it is who has to fix the
Master-End which is to guide us in dominating any object absolutely
evil or good.
But we may say more: an enquiry into their nature is absolutely
necessary. First, because we maintained that Moral Virtue and Moral
Vice are both concerned with Pains and Pleasures: next, because the
greater part of mankind assert that Happiness must include Pleasure
(which by the way accounts for the word they use, μακάριος; χαίρειν
being the root of that word).
Now some hold that no one Pleasure is good, either in itself or as a
matter of result, because Good and Pleasure are not identical. Others
that some Pleasures are good but the greater number bad. There is yet a
third view; granting that every Pleasure is good, still the Chief Good
cannot possibly be Pleasure.
In support of the first opinion (that Pleasure is utterly not-good) it
is urged that:
no such process is akin to the end to be attained: e.g. no process of
building to the completed house.
Pleasure.
keenly they are felt. An obvious instance will readily occur.
result of some Art.
In support of the second (that not all Pleasures are good), That there
are some base and matter of reproach, and some even hurtful: because
some things that are pleasant produce disease.
In support of the third (that Pleasure is not the Chief Good), That it
is not an End but a process towards creating an End.
This is, I think, a fair account of current views on the matter.
But that the reasons alleged do not prove it either to be not-good or
the Chief Good is plain from the following considerations.
First. Good being either absolute or relative, of course the natures
and states embodying it will be so too; therefore also the movements
and the processes of creation. So, of those which are thought to be bad
some will be bad absolutely, but relatively not bad, perhaps even
choice-worthy; some not even choice-worthy relatively to any particular
person, only at certain times or for a short time but not in themselves
choice-worthy.
Others again are not even Pleasures at all though they produce that
impression on the mind: all such I mean as imply pain and whose purpose
is cure; those of sick people, for instance.
Next, since Good may be either an active working or a state, those
[κινήσεις or γενέσεις] which tend to place us in our natural state are
pleasant incidentally because of that tendency: but the active working
is really in the desires excited in the remaining (sound) part of our
state or nature: for there are Pleasures which have no connection with
pain or desire: the acts of contemplative intellect, for instance, in
which case there is no deficiency in the nature or state of him who
performs the acts.
A proof of this is that the same pleasant thing does not produce the
sensation of Pleasure when the natural state is being filled up or
completed as when it is already in its normal condition: in this latter
case what give the sensation are things pleasant per se, in the
former even those things which are contrary. I mean, you find people
taking pleasure in sharp or bitter things of which no one is naturally
or in itself pleasant; of course not therefore the Pleasures arising
from them, because it is obvious that as is the classification of
pleasant things such must be that of the Pleasures arising from them.
Next, it does not follow that there must be something else better than
any given pleasure because (as some say) the End must be better than
the process which creates it. For it is not true that all Pleasures are
processes or even attended by any process, but (some are) active
workings or even Ends: in fact they result not from our coming to be
something but from our using our powers. Again, it is not true that the
End is, in every case, distinct from the process: it is true only in
the case of such processes as conduce to the perfecting of the natural
state.
For which reason it is wrong to say that Pleasure is “a sensible
process of production.” For “process etc.” should be substituted
“active working of the natural state,” for “sensible” “unimpeded.” The
reason of its being thought to be a “process etc.” is that it is good
in the highest sense: people confusing “active working” and “process,”
whereas they really are distinct.
Next, as to the argument that there are bad Pleasures because some
things which are pleasant are also hurtful to health, it is the same as
saying that some healthful things are bad for “business.” In this
sense, of course, both may be said to be bad, but then this does not
make them out to be bad simpliciter: the exercise of the pure
Intellect sometimes hurts a man’s health: but what hinders Practical
Wisdom or any state whatever is, not the Pleasure peculiar to, but some
Pleasure foreign to it: the Pleasures arising from the exercise of the
pure Intellect or from learning only promote each.
Next. “No Pleasure is the work of any Art.” What else would you expect?
No active working is the work of any Art, only the faculty of so
working. Still the perfumer’s Art or the cook’s are thought to belong
to Pleasure.
Next. “The man of Perfected Self-Mastery avoids Pleasures.” “The man of
Practical Wisdom aims at escaping Pain rather than at attaining
Pleasure.”
“Children and brutes pursue Pleasures.”
One answer will do for all.
We have already said in what sense all Pleasures are good per se and
in what sense not all are good: it is the latter class that brutes and
children pursue, such as are accompanied by desire and pain, that is
the bodily Pleasures (which answer to this description) and the
excesses of them: in short, those in respect of which the man utterly
destitute of Self-Control is thus utterly destitute. And it is the
absence of the pain arising from these Pleasures that the man of
Practical Wisdom aims at. It follows that these Pleasures are what the
man of Perfected Self-Mastery avoids: for obviously he has Pleasures
peculiarly his own.
Then again, it is allowed that Pain is an evil and a thing to be
avoided partly as bad per se, partly as being a hindrance in some
particular way. Now the contrary of that which is to be avoided, quâ
it is to be avoided, i.e. evil, is good. Pleasure then must be a
good.
The attempted answer of Speusippus, “that Pleasure may be opposed and
yet not contrary to Pain, just as the greater portion of any magnitude
is contrary to the less but only opposed to the exact half,” will not
hold: for he cannot say that Pleasure is identical with evil of any
kind.
Again. Granting that some Pleasures are low, there is no reason why
some particular Pleasure may not be very good, just as some particular
Science may be although there are some which are low.
Perhaps it even follows, since each state may have active working
unimpeded, whether the active workings of all be Happiness or that of
some one of them, that this active working, if it be unimpeded, must be
choice-worthy: now Pleasure is exactly this. So that the Chief Good may
be Pleasure of some kind, though most Pleasures be (let us assume) low
per se.
And for this reason all men think the happy life is pleasant, and
interweave Pleasure with Happiness. Reasonably enough: because
Happiness is perfect, but no impeded active working is perfect; and
therefore the happy man needs as an addition the goods of the body and
the goods external and fortune that in these points he may not be
fettered. As for those who say that he who is being tortured on the
wheel, or falls into great misfortunes is happy provided only he be
good, they talk nonsense, whether they mean to do so or not. On the
other hand, because fortune is needed as an addition, some hold good
fortune to be identical with Happiness: which it is not, for even this
in excess is a hindrance, and perhaps then has no right to be called
good fortune since it is good only in so far as it contributes to
Happiness.
The fact that all animals, brute and human alike, pursue Pleasure, is
some presumption of its being in a sense the Chief Good;
(“There must be something in what most folks say,”) only as one and the
same nature or state neither is nor is thought to be the best, so
neither do all pursue the same Pleasure, Pleasure nevertheless all do.
Nay further, what they pursue is, perhaps, not what they think nor what
they would say they pursue, but really one and the same: for in all
there is some instinct above themselves. But the bodily Pleasures have
received the name exclusively, because theirs is the most frequent form
and that which is universally partaken of; and so, because to many
these alone are known they believe them to be the only ones which
exist.
It is plain too that, unless Pleasure and its active working be good,
it will not be true that the happy man’s life embodies Pleasure: for
why will he want it on the supposition that it is not good and that he
can live even with Pain? because, assuming that Pleasure is not good,
then Pain is neither evil nor good, and so why should he avoid it?
Besides, the life of the good man is not more pleasurable than any
other unless it be granted that his active workings are so too.
Some enquiry into the bodily Pleasures is also necessary for those who
say that some Pleasures, to be sure, are highly choice-worthy (the good
ones to wit), but not the bodily Pleasures; that is, those which are
the object-matter of the man utterly destitute of Self-Control.
If so, we ask, why are the contrary Pains bad? they cannot be (on their
assumption) because the contrary of bad is good.
May we not say that the necessary bodily Pleasures are good in the
sense in which that which is not-bad is good? or that they are good
only up to a certain point? because such states or movements as cannot
have too much of the better cannot have too much of Pleasure, but those
which can of the former can also of the latter. Now the bodily
Pleasures do admit of excess: in fact the low bad man is such because
he pursues the excess of them instead of those which are necessary
(meat, drink, and the objects of other animal appetites do give
pleasure to all, but not in right manner or degree to all). But his
relation to Pain is exactly the contrary: it is not excessive Pain, but
Pain at all, that he avoids [which makes him to be in this way too a
bad low man], because only in the case of him who pursues excessive
Pleasure is Pain contrary to excessive Pleasure.
It is not enough however merely to state the truth, we should also show
how the false view arises; because this strengthens conviction. I mean,
when we have given a probable reason why that impresses people as true
which really is not true, it gives them a stronger conviction of the
truth. And so we must now explain why the bodily Pleasures appear to
people to be more choice-worthy than any others.
The first obvious reason is, that bodily Pleasure drives out Pain; and
because Pain is felt in excess men pursue Pleasure in excess, i.e.
generally bodily Pleasure, under the notion of its being a remedy for
that Pain. These remedies, moreover, come to be violent ones; which is
the very reason they are pursued, since the impression they produce on
the mind is owing to their being looked at side by side with their
contrary.
And, as has been said before, there are the two following reasons why
bodily Pleasure is thought to be not-good.
congenital as in brutes, or acquired by custom as in low bad men.
now of course it is better to have [the healthy state] originally than
that it should accrue afterwards.
(But some Pleasures result when natural states are being perfected:
these therefore are good as a matter of result.)
Again, the very fact of their being violent causes them to be pursued
by such as can relish no others: such men in fact create violent
thirsts for themselves (if harmless ones then we find no fault, if
harmful then it is bad and low) because they have no other things to
take pleasure in, and the neutral state is distasteful to some people
constitutionally; for toil of some kind is inseparable from life, as
physiologists testify, telling us that the acts of seeing or hearing
are painful, only that we are used to the pain and do not find it out.
Similarly in youth the constant growth produces a state much like that
of vinous intoxication, and youth is pleasant. Again, men of the
melancholic temperament constantly need some remedial process (because
the body, from its temperament, is constantly being worried), and they
are in a chronic state of violent desire. But Pleasure drives out Pain;
not only such Pleasure as is directly contrary to Pain but even any
Pleasure provided it be strong: and this is how men come to be utterly
destitute of Self-Mastery, i.e. low and bad.
But those Pleasures which are unconnected with Pains do not admit of
excess: i.e. such as belong to objects which are naturally pleasant
and not merely as a matter of result: by the latter class I mean such
as are remedial, and the reason why these are thought to be pleasant is
that the cure results from the action in some way of that part of the
constitution which remains sound. By “pleasant naturally” I mean such
as put into action a nature which is pleasant.
The reason why no one and the same thing is invariably pleasant is that
our nature is, not simple, but complex, involving something different
from itself (so far as we are corruptible beings). Suppose then that
one part of this nature be doing something, this something is, to the
other part, unnatural: but, if there be an equilibrium of the two
natures, then whatever is being done is indifferent. It is obvious that
if there be any whose nature is simple and not complex, to such a being
the same course of acting will always be the most pleasurable.
For this reason it is that the Divinity feels Pleasure which is always
one, i.e. simple: not motion merely but also motionlessness acts, and
Pleasure resides rather in the absence than in the presence of motion.
The reason why the Poet’s dictum “change is of all things most
pleasant” is true, is “a baseness in our blood;” for as the bad man is
easily changeable, bad must be also the nature that craves change,
i.e. it is neither simple nor good.
We have now said our say about Self-Control and its opposite; and about
Pleasure and Pain. What each is, and how the one set is good the other
bad. We have yet to speak of Friendship.
Next would seem properly to follow a dissertation on Friendship:
because, in the first place, it is either itself a virtue or connected
with virtue; and next it is a thing most necessary for life, since no
one would choose to live without friends though he should have all the
other good things in the world: and, in fact, men who are rich or
possessed of authority and influence are thought to have special need
of friends: for where is the use of such prosperity if there be taken
away the doing of kindnesses of which friends are the most usual and
most commendable objects? Or how can it be kept or preserved without
friends? because the greater it is so much the more slippery and
hazardous: in poverty moreover and all other adversities men think
friends to be their only refuge.
Furthermore, Friendship helps the young to keep from error: the old, in
respect of attention and such deficiencies in action as their weakness
makes them liable to; and those who are in their prime, in respect of
noble deeds (“They two together going,” Homer says, you may
remember), because they are thus more able to devise plans and carry
them out.
Again, it seems to be implanted in us by Nature: as, for instance, in
the parent towards the offspring and the offspring towards the parent
(not merely in the human species, but likewise in birds and most
animals), and in those of the same tribe towards one another, and
specially in men of the same nation; for which reason we commend those
men who love their fellows: and one may see in the course of travel how
close of kin and how friendly man is to man.
Furthermore, Friendship seems to be the bond of Social Communities, and
legislators seem to be more anxious to secure it than Justice even. I
mean, Unanimity is somewhat like to Friendship, and this they certainly
aim at and specially drive out faction as being inimical.
Again, where people are in Friendship Justice is not required; but,
on the other hand, though they are just they need Friendship in
addition, and that principle which is most truly just is thought to
partake of the nature of Friendship.
Lastly, not only is it a thing necessary but honourable likewise: since
we praise those who are fond of friends, and the having numerous
friends is thought a matter of credit to a man; some go so far as to
hold, that “good man” and “friend” are terms synonymous.
Yet the disputed points respecting it are not few: some men lay down
that it is a kind of resemblance, and that men who are like one another
are friends: whence come the common sayings, “Like will to like,”
“Birds of a feather,” and so on. Others, on the contrary, say, that all
such come under the maxim, “Two of a trade never agree.”
Again, some men push their enquiries on these points higher and reason
physically: as Euripides, who says,
“The earth by drought consumed doth love the rain,
And the great heaven, overcharged with rain,
Doth love to fall in showers upon the earth.”
Heraclitus, again, maintains, that “contrariety is expedient, and that
the best agreement arises from things differing, and that all things
come into being in the way of the principle of antagonism.”
Empedocles, among others, in direct opposition to these, affirms, that
“like aims at like.”
These physical questions we will take leave to omit, inasmuch as they
are foreign to the present enquiry; and we will examine such as are
proper to man and concern moral characters and feelings: as, for
instance, “Does Friendship arise among all without distinction, or is
it impossible for bad men to be friends?” and, “Is there but one
species of Friendship, or several?” for they who ground the opinion
that there is but one on the fact that Friendship admits of degrees
hold that upon insufficient proof; because things which are different
in species admit likewise of degrees (on this point we have spoken
before).
Our view will soon be cleared on these points when we have ascertained
what is properly the object-matter of Friendship: for it is thought
that not everything indiscriminately, but some peculiar matter alone,
is the object of this affection; that is to say, what is good, or
pleasurable, or useful. Now it would seem that that is useful through
which accrues any good or pleasure, and so the objects of Friendship,
as absolute Ends, are the good and the pleasurable.
A question here arises; whether it is good absolutely or that which is
good to the individuals, for which men feel Friendship (these two being
sometimes distinct): and similarly in respect of the pleasurable. It
seems then that each individual feels it towards that which is good to
himself, and that abstractedly it is the real good which is the object
of Friendship, and to each individual that which is good to each. It
comes then to this; that each individual feels Friendship not for what
is but for that which conveys to his mind the impression of being
good to himself. But this will make no real difference, because that
which is truly the object of Friendship will also convey this
impression to the mind.
There are then three causes from which men feel Friendship: but the
term is not applied to the case of fondness for things inanimate
because there is no requital of the affection nor desire for the good
of those objects: it certainly savours of the ridiculous to say that a
man fond of wine wishes well to it: the only sense in which it is true
being that he wishes it to be kept safe and sound for his own use and
benefit. But to the friend they say one should wish all good for his
sake. And when men do thus wish good to another (he not reciprocating
the feeling), people call them Kindly; because Friendship they describe
as being “Kindliness between persons who reciprocate it.” But must they
not add that the feeling must be mutually known? for many men are
kindly disposed towards those whom they have never seen but whom they
conceive to be amiable or useful: and this notion amounts to the same
thing as a real feeling between them.
Well, these are plainly Kindly-disposed towards one another: but how
can one call them friends while their mutual feelings are unknown to
one another? to complete the idea of Friendship, then, it is requisite
that they have kindly feelings towards one another, and wish one
another good from one of the aforementioned causes, and that these
kindly feelings should be mutually known.
As the motives to Friendship differ in kind so do the respective
feelings and Friendships. The species then of Friendship are three, in
number equal to the objects of it, since in the line of each there may
be “mutual affection mutually known.”
Now they who have Friendship for one another desire one another’s good
according to the motive of their Friendship; accordingly they whose
motive is utility have no Friendship for one another really, but only
in so far as some good arises to them from one another.
And they whose motive is pleasure are in like case: I mean, they have
Friendship for men of easy pleasantry, not because they are of a given
character but because they are pleasant to themselves. So then they
whose motive to Friendship is utility love their friends for what is
good to themselves; they whose motive is pleasure do so for what is
pleasurable to themselves; that is to say, not in so far as the friend
beloved is but in so far as he is useful or pleasurable. These
Friendships then are a matter of result: since the object is not
beloved in that he is the man he is but in that he furnishes advantage
or pleasure as the case may be.
Such Friendships are of course very liable to dissolution if the
parties do not continue alike: I mean, that the others cease to have
any Friendship for them when they are no longer pleasurable or useful.
Now it is the nature of utility not to be permanent but constantly
varying: so, of course, when the motive which made them friends is
vanished, the Friendship likewise dissolves; since it existed only
relatively to those circumstances.
Friendship of this kind is thought to exist principally among the old
(because men at that time of life pursue not what is pleasurable but
what is profitable); and in such, of men in their prime and of the
young, as are given to the pursuit of profit. They that are such have
no intimate intercourse with one another; for sometimes they are not
even pleasurable to one another; nor, in fact, do they desire such
intercourse unless their friends are profitable to them, because they
are pleasurable only in so far as they have hopes of advantage. With
these Friendships is commonly ranked that of hospitality.
But the Friendship of the young is thought to be based on the motive of
pleasure: because they live at the beck and call of passion and
generally pursue what is pleasurable to themselves and the object of
the present moment: and as their age changes so likewise do their
pleasures.
This is the reason why they form and dissolve Friendships rapidly:
since the Friendship changes with the pleasurable object and such
pleasure changes quickly.
The young are also much given up to Love; this passion being, in great
measure, a matter of impulse and based on pleasure: for which cause
they conceive Friendships and quickly drop them, changing often in the
same day: but these wish for society and intimate intercourse with
their friends, since they thus attain the object of their Friendship.
That then is perfect Friendship which subsists between those who are
good and whose similarity consists in their goodness: for these men
wish one another’s good in similar ways; in so far as they are good
(and good they are in themselves); and those are specially friends who
wish good to their friends for their sakes, because they feel thus
towards them on their own account and not as a mere matter of result;
so the Friendship between these men continues to subsist so long as
they are good; and goodness, we know, has in it a principle of
permanence.
Moreover, each party is good abstractedly and also relatively to his
friend, for all good men are not only abstractedly good but also useful
to one another. Such friends are also mutually pleasurable because all
good men are so abstractedly, and also relatively to one another,
inasmuch as to each individual those actions are pleasurable which
correspond to his nature, and all such as are like them. Now when men
are good these will be always the same, or at least similar.
Friendship then under these circumstances is permanent, as we should
reasonably expect, since it combines in itself all the requisite
qualifications of friends. I mean, that Friendship of whatever kind is
based upon good or pleasure (either abstractedly or relatively to the
person entertaining the sentiment of Friendship), and results from a
similarity of some sort; and to this kind belong all the aforementioned
requisites in the parties themselves, because in this the parties are
similar, and so on: moreover, in it there is the abstractedly good
and the abstractedly pleasant, and as these are specially the
object-matter of Friendship so the feeling and the state of Friendship
is found most intense and most excellent in men thus qualified.
Rare it is probable Friendships of this kind will be, because men of
this kind are rare. Besides, all requisite qualifications being
presupposed, there is further required time and intimacy: for, as the
proverb says, men cannot know one another “till they have eaten the
requisite quantity of salt together;” nor can they in fact admit one
another to intimacy, much less be friends, till each has appeared to
the other and been proved to be a fit object of Friendship. They who
speedily commence an interchange of friendly actions may be said to
wish to be friends, but they are not so unless they are also proper
objects of Friendship and mutually known to be such: that is to say, a
desire for Friendship may arise quickly but not Friendship itself.
Well, this Friendship is perfect both in respect of the time and in all
other points; and exactly the same and similar results accrue to each
party from the other; which ought to be the case between friends.
The friendship based upon the pleasurable is, so to say, a copy of
this, since the good are sources of pleasure to one another: and that
based on utility likewise, the good being also useful to one another.
Between men thus connected Friendships are most permanent when the same
result accrues to both from one another, pleasure, for instance; and
not merely so but from the same source, as in the case of two men of
easy pleasantry; and not as it is in that of a lover and the object of
his affection, these not deriving their pleasure from the same causes,
but the former from seeing the latter and the latter from receiving the
attentions of the former: and when the bloom of youth fades the
Friendship sometimes ceases also, because then the lover derives no
pleasure from seeing and the object of his affection ceases to receive
the attentions which were paid before: in many cases, however, people
so connected continue friends, if being of similar tempers they have
come from custom to like one another’s disposition.
Where people do not interchange pleasure but profit in matters of Love,
the Friendship is both less intense in degree and also less permanent:
in fact, they who are friends because of advantage commonly part when
the advantage ceases; for, in reality, they never were friends of one
another but of the advantage.
So then it appears that from motives of pleasure or profit bad men may
be friends to one another, or good men to bad men or men of neutral
character to one of any character whatever: but disinterestedly, for
the sake of one another, plainly the good alone can be friends; because
bad men have no pleasure even in themselves unless in so far as some
advantage arises.
And further, the Friendship of the good is alone superior to calumny;
it not being easy for men to believe a third person respecting one whom
they have long tried and proved: there is between good men mutual
confidence, and the feeling that one’s friend would never have done one
wrong, and all other such things as are expected in Friendship really
worthy the name; but in the other kinds there is nothing to prevent all
such suspicions.
I call them Friendships, because since men commonly give the name of
friends to those who are connected from motives of profit (which is
justified by political language, for alliances between states are
thought to be contracted with a view to advantage), and to those who
are attached to one another by the motive of pleasure (as children
are), we may perhaps also be allowed to call such persons friends, and
say there are several species of Friendship; primarily and specially
that of the good, in that they are good, and the rest only in the way
of resemblance: I mean, people connected otherwise are friends in that
way in which there arises to them somewhat good and some mutual
resemblance (because, we must remember the pleasurable is good to those
who are fond of it).
These secondary Friendships, however, do not combine very well; that is
to say, the same persons do not become friends by reason of advantage
and by reason of the pleasurable, for these matters of result are not
often combined. And Friendship having been divided into these kinds,
bad men will be friends by reason of pleasure or profit, this being
their point of resemblance; while the good are friends for one
another’s sake, that is, in so far as they are good.
These last may be termed abstractedly and simply friends, the former as
a matter of result and termed friends from their resemblance to these
last.
Further; just as in respect of the different virtues some men are
termed good in respect of a certain inward state, others in respect of
acts of working, so is it in respect of Friendship: I mean, they who
live together take pleasure in, and impart good to, one another: but
they who are asleep or are locally separated do not perform acts, but
only are in such a state as to act in a friendly way if they acted at
all: distance has in itself no direct effect upon Friendship, but only
prevents the acting it out: yet, if the absence be protracted, it is
thought to cause a forgetfulness even of the Friendship: and hence it
has been said, “many and many a Friendship doth want of intercourse
destroy.”
Accordingly, neither the old nor the morose appear to be calculated for
Friendship, because the pleasurableness in them is small, and no one
can spend his days in company with that which is positively painful or
even not pleasurable; since to avoid the painful and aim at the
pleasurable is one of the most obvious tendencies of human nature. They
who get on with one another very fairly, but are not in habits of
intimacy, are rather like people having kindly feelings towards one
another than friends; nothing being so characteristic of friends as the
living with one another, because the necessitous desire assistance, and
the happy companionship, they being the last persons in the world for
solitary existence: but people cannot spend their time together unless
they are mutually pleasurable and take pleasure in the same objects, a
quality which is thought to appertain to the Friendship of
companionship.
The connection then subsisting between the good is Friendship _par
excellence_, as has already been frequently said: since that which is
abstractedly good or pleasant is thought to be an object of Friendship
and choice-worthy, and to each individual whatever is such to him; and
the good man to the good man for both these reasons.
(Now the entertaining the sentiment is like a feeling, but Friendship
itself like a state: because the former may have for its object even
things inanimate, but requital of Friendship is attended with moral
choice which proceeds from a moral state: and again, men wish good to
the objects of their Friendship for their sakes, not in the way of a
mere feeling but of moral state.)
And the good, in loving their friend, love their own good (inasmuch as
the good man, when brought into that relation, becomes a good to him
with whom he is so connected), so that either party loves his own good,
and repays his friend equally both in wishing well and in the
pleasurable: for equality is said to be a tie of Friendship. Well,
these points belong most to the Friendship between good men.
But between morose or elderly men Friendship is less apt to arise,
because they are somewhat awkward-tempered, and take less pleasure in
intercourse and society; these being thought to be specially friendly
and productive of Friendship: and so young men become friends quickly,
old men not so (because people do not become friends with any, unless
they take pleasure in them); and in like manner neither do the morose.
Yet men of these classes entertain kindly feelings towards one another:
they wish good to one another and render mutual assistance in respect
of their needs, but they are not quite friends, because they neither
spend their time together nor take pleasure in one another, which
circumstances are thought specially to belong to Friendship.
To be a friend to many people, in the way of the perfect Friendship, is
not possible; just as you cannot be in love with many at once: it is,
so to speak, a state of excess which naturally has but one object; and
besides, it is not an easy thing for one man to be very much pleased
with many people at the same time, nor perhaps to find many really
good. Again, a man needs experience, and to be in habits of close
intimacy, which is very difficult.
But it is possible to please many on the score of advantage and
pleasure: because there are many men of the kind, and the services may
be rendered in a very short time.
Of the two imperfect kinds that which most resembles the perfect is the
Friendship based upon pleasure, in which the same results accrue from
both and they take pleasure in one another or in the same objects; such
as are the Friendships of the young, because a generous spirit is most
found in these. The Friendship because of advantage is the connecting
link of shopkeepers.
Then again, the very happy have no need of persons who are profitable,
but of pleasant ones they have because they wish to have people to live
intimately with; and what is painful they bear for a short time indeed,
but continuously no one could support it, nay, not even the Chief Good
itself, if it were painful to him individually: and so they look out
for pleasant friends: perhaps they ought to require such to be good
also; and good moreover to themselves individually, because then they
will have all the proper requisites of Friendship.
Men in power are often seen to make use of several distinct friends:
for some are useful to them and others pleasurable, but the two are not
often united: because they do not, in fact, seek such as shall combine
pleasantness and goodness, nor such as shall be useful for honourable
purposes: but with a view to attain what is pleasant they look out for
men of easy-pleasantry; and again, for men who are clever at executing
any business put into their hands: and these qualifications are not
commonly found united in the same man.
It has been already stated that the good man unites the qualities of
pleasantness and usefulness: but then such a one will not be a friend
to a superior unless he be also his superior in goodness: for if this
be not the case, he cannot, being surpassed in one point, make things
equal by a proportionate degree of Friendship. And characters who
unite superiority of station and goodness are not common.
Now all the kinds of Friendship which have been already mentioned exist
in a state of equality, inasmuch as either the same results accrue to
both and they wish the same things to one another, or else they barter
one thing against another; pleasure, for instance, against profit: it
has been said already that Friendships of this latter kind are less
intense in degree and less permanent.
And it is their resemblance or dissimilarity to the same thing which
makes them to be thought to be and not to be Friendships: they show
like Friendships in right of their likeness to that which is based on
virtue (the one kind having the pleasurable, the other the profitable,
both of which belong also to the other); and again, they do not show
like Friendships by reason of their unlikeness to that true kind; which
unlikeness consists herein, that while that is above calumny and so
permanent these quickly change and differ in many other points.
But there is another form of Friendship, that, namely, in which the one
party is superior to the other; as between father and son, elder and
younger, husband and wife, ruler and ruled. These also differ one from
another: I mean, the Friendship between parents and children is not the
same as between ruler and the ruled, nor has the father the same
towards the son as the son towards the father, nor the husband towards
the wife as she towards him; because the work, and therefore the
excellence, of each of these is different, and different therefore are
the causes of their feeling Friendship; distinct and different
therefore are their feelings and states of Friendship.
And the same results do not accrue to each from the other, nor in fact
ought they to be looked for: but, when children render to their parents
what they ought to the authors of their being, and parents to their
sons what they ought to their offspring, the Friendship between such
parties will be permanent and equitable.
Further; the feeling of Friendship should be in a due proportion in all
Friendships which are between superior and inferior; I mean, the better
man, or the more profitable, and so forth, should be the object of a
stronger feeling than he himself entertains, because when the feeling
of Friendship comes to be after a certain rate then equality in a
certain sense is produced, which is thought to be a requisite in
Friendship.
(It must be remembered, however, that the equal is not in the same case
as regards Justice and Friendship: for in strict Justice the exactly
proportioned equal ranks first, and the actual numerically equal ranks
second, while in Friendship this is exactly reversed.)
And that equality is thus requisite is plainly shown by the occurrence
of a great difference of goodness or badness, or prosperity, or
something else: for in this case, people are not any longer friends,
nay they do not even feel that they ought to be. The clearest
illustration is perhaps the case of the gods, because they are most
superior in all good things. It is obvious too, in the case of kings,
for they who are greatly their inferiors do not feel entitled to be
friends to them; nor do people very insignificant to be friends to
those of very high excellence or wisdom. Of course, in such cases it is
out of the question to attempt to define up to what point they may
continue friends: for you may remove many points of agreement and the
Friendship last nevertheless; but when one of the parties is very far
separated (as a god from men), it cannot continue any longer.
This has given room for a doubt, whether friends do really wish to
their friends the very highest goods, as that they may be gods:
because, in case the wish were accomplished, they would no longer have
them for friends, nor in fact would they have the good things they had,
because friends are good things. If then it has been rightly said that
a friend wishes to his friend good things for that friend’s sake, it
must be understood that he is to remain such as he now is: that is to
say, he will wish the greatest good to him of which as man he is
capable: yet perhaps not all, because each man desires good for himself
most of all.
It is thought that desire for honour makes the mass of men wish rather
to be the objects of the feeling of Friendship than to entertain it
themselves (and for this reason they are fond of flatterers, a
flatterer being a friend inferior or at least pretending to be such and
rather to entertain towards another the feeling of Friendship than to
be himself the object of it), since the former is thought to be nearly
the same as being honoured, which the mass of men desire. And yet men
seem to choose honour, not for its own sake, but incidentally: I
mean, the common run of men delight to be honoured by those in power
because of the hope it raises; that is they think they shall get from
them anything they may happen to be in want of, so they delight in
honour as an earnest of future benefit. They again who grasp at honour
at the hands of the good and those who are really acquainted with their
merits desire to confirm their own opinion about themselves: so they
take pleasure in the conviction that they are good, which is based on
the sentence of those who assert it. But in being the objects of
Friendship men delight for its own sake, and so this may be judged to
be higher than being honoured and Friendship to be in itself
choice-worthy. Friendship, moreover, is thought to consist in feeling,
rather than being the object of, the sentiment of Friendship, which is
proved by the delight mothers have in the feeling: some there are who
give their children to be adopted and brought up by others, and knowing
them bear this feeling towards them never seeking to have it returned,
if both are not possible; but seeming to be content with seeing them
well off and bearing this feeling themselves towards them, even though
they, by reason of ignorance, never render to them any filial regard or
love.
Since then Friendship stands rather in the entertaining, than in being
the object of, the sentiment, and they are praised who are fond of
their friends, it seems that entertaining the sentiment is the
Excellence of friends; and so, in whomsoever this exists in due
proportion these are stable friends and their Friendship is permanent.
And in this way may they who are unequal best be friends, because they
may thus be made equal.
Equality, then, and similarity are a tie to Friendship, and specially
the similarity of goodness, because good men, being stable in
themselves, are also stable as regards others, and neither ask
degrading services nor render them, but, so to say, rather prevent
them: for it is the part of the good neither to do wrong themselves nor
to allow their friends in so doing.
The bad, on the contrary, have no principle of stability: in fact, they
do not even continue like themselves: only they come to be friends for
a short time from taking delight in one another’s wickedness. Those
connected by motives of profit, or pleasure, hold together somewhat
longer: so long, that is to say, as they can give pleasure or profit
mutually.
The Friendship based on motives of profit is thought to be most of all
formed out of contrary elements: the poor man, for instance, is thus a
friend of the rich, and the ignorant of the man of information; that is
to say, a man desiring that of which he is, as it happens, in want,
gives something else in exchange for it. To this same class we may
refer the lover and beloved, the beautiful and the ill-favoured. For
this reason lovers sometimes show in a ridiculous light by claiming to
be the objects of as intense a feeling as they themselves entertain: of
course if they are equally fit objects of Friendship they are perhaps
entitled to claim this, but if they have nothing of the kind it is
ridiculous.
Perhaps, moreover, the contrary does not aim at its contrary for its
own sake but incidentally: the mean is really what is grasped at; it
being good for the dry, for instance, not to become wet but to attain
the mean, and so of the hot, etc.
However, let us drop these questions, because they are in fact somewhat
foreign to our purpose.
It seems too, as was stated at the commencement, that Friendship and
Justice have the same object-matter, and subsist between the same
persons: I mean that in every Communion there is thought to be some
principle of Justice and also some Friendship: men address as friends,
for instance, those who are their comrades by sea, or in war, and in
like manner also those who are brought into Communion with them in
other ways: and the Friendship, because also the Justice, is
co-extensive with the Communion, This justifies the common proverb,
“the goods of friends are common,” since Friendship rests upon
Communion.
Now brothers and intimate companions have all in common, but other
people have their property separate, and some have more in common and
others less, because the Friendships likewise differ in degree. So too
do the various principles of Justice involved, not being the same
between parents and children as between brothers, nor between
companions as between fellow-citizens merely, and so on of all the
other conceivable Friendships. Different also are the principles of
Injustice as regards these different grades, and the acts become
intensified by being done to friends; for instance, it is worse to rob
your companion than one who is merely a fellow-citizen; to refuse help
to a brother than to a stranger; and to strike your father than any one
else. So then the Justice naturally increases with the degree of
Friendship, as being between the same parties and of equal extent.
All cases of Communion are parts, so to say, of the great Social one,
since in them men associate with a view to some advantage and to
procure some of those things which are needful for life; and the great
Social Communion is thought originally to have been associated and to
continue for the sake of some advantage: this being the point at which
legislators aim, affirming that to be just which is generally
expedient.
All the other cases of Communion aim at advantage in particular points;
the crew of a vessel at that which is to result from the voyage which
is undertaken with a view to making money, or some such object;
comrades in war at that which is to result from the war, grasping
either at wealth or victory, or it may be a political position; and
those of the same tribe, or Demus, in like manner.
Some of them are thought to be formed for pleasure’s sake, those, for
instance, of bacchanals or club-fellows, which are with a view to
Sacrifice or merely company. But all these seem to be ranged under the
great Social one, inasmuch as the aim of this is, not merely the
expediency of the moment but, for life and at all times; with a view to
which the members of it institute sacrifices and their attendant
assemblies, to render honour to the gods and procure for themselves
respite from toil combined with pleasure. For it appears that
sacrifices and religious assemblies in old times were made as a kind of
first-fruits after the ingathering of the crops, because at such
seasons they had most leisure.
So then it appears that all the instances of Communion are parts of the
great Social one: and corresponding Friendships will follow upon such
Communions.
Of Political Constitutions there are three kinds; and equal in number
are the deflections from them, being, so to say, corruptions of them.
The former are Kingship, Aristocracy, and that which recognises the
principle of wealth, which it seems appropriate to call Timocracy (I
give to it the name of a political constitution because people commonly
do so). Of these the best is Monarchy, and Timocracy the worst.
From Monarchy the deflection is Despotism; both being Monarchies but
widely differing from each other; for the Despot looks to his own
advantage, but the King to that of his subjects: for he is in fact no
King who is not thoroughly independent and superior to the rest in all
good things, and he that is this has no further wants: he will not then
have to look to his own advantage but to that of his subjects, for he
that is not in such a position is a mere King elected by lot for the
nonce.
But Despotism is on a contrary footing to this Kingship, because the
Despot pursues his own good: and in the case of this its inferiority is
most evident, and what is worse is contrary to what is best. The
Transition to Despotism is made from Kingship, Despotism being a
corrupt form of Monarchy, that is to say, the bad King comes to be a
Despot.
From Aristocracy to Oligarchy the transition is made by the fault of
the Rulers in distributing the public property contrary to right
proportion; and giving either all that is good, or the greatest share,
to themselves; and the offices to the same persons always, making
wealth their idol; thus a few bear rule and they bad men in the place
of the best.
From Timocracy the transition is to Democracy, they being contiguous:
for it is the nature of Timocracy to be in the hands of a multitude,
and all in the same grade of property are equal. Democracy is the least
vicious of all, since herein the form of the constitution undergoes
least change.
Well, these are generally the changes to which the various
Constitutions are liable, being the least in degree and the easiest to
make.
Likenesses, and, as it were, models of them, one may find even in
Domestic life: for instance, the Communion between a Father and his
Sons presents the figure of Kingship, because the children are the
Father’s care: and hence Homer names Jupiter Father because Kingship is
intended to be a paternal rule. Among the Persians, however, the
Father’s rule is Despotic, for they treat their Sons as slaves. (The
relation of Master to Slaves is of the nature of Despotism because the
point regarded herein is the Master’s interest): this now strikes me to
be as it ought, but the Persian custom to be mistaken; because for
different persons there should be different rules.
Between Husband and Wife the relation takes the form of Aristocracy,
because he rules by right and in such points only as the Husband
should, and gives to the Wife all that befits her to have. Where the
Husband lords it in everything he changes the relation into an
Oligarchy; because he does it contrary to right and not as being the
better of the two. In some instances the Wives take the reins of
government, being heiresses: here the rule is carried on not in right
of goodness but by reason of wealth and power, as it is in Oligarchies.
Timocracy finds its type in the relation of Brothers: they being equal
except as to such differences as age introduces: for which reason, if
they are very different in age, the Friendship comes to be no longer a
fraternal one: while Democracy is represented specially by families
which have no head (all being there equal), or in which the proper head
is weak and so every member does that which is right in his own eyes.
Attendant then on each form of Political Constitution there plainly is
Friendship exactly co-extensive with the principle of Justice; that
between a King and his Subjects being in the relation of a superiority
of benefit, inasmuch as he benefits his subjects; it being assumed that
he is a good king and takes care of their welfare as a shepherd tends
his flock; whence Homer (to quote him again) calls Agamemnon, “shepherd
of the people.” And of this same kind is the Paternal Friendship, only
that it exceeds the former in the greatness of the benefits done;
because the father is the author of being (which is esteemed the
greatest benefit) and of maintenance and education (these things are
also, by the way, ascribed to ancestors generally): and by the law of
nature the father has the right of rule over his sons, ancestors over
their descendants, and the king over his subjects.
These friendships are also between superiors and inferiors, for which
reason parents are not merely loved but also honoured. The principle of
Justice also between these parties is not exactly the same but
according to proportiton, because so also is the Friendship.
Now between Husband and Wife there is the same Friendship as in
Aristocracy: for the relation is determined by relative excellence, and
the better person has the greater good and each has what befits: so too
also is the principle of Justice between them.
The Fraternal Friendship is like that of Companions, because brothers
are equal and much of an age, and such persons have generally like
feelings and like dispositions. Like to this also is the Friendship of
a Timocracy, because the citizens are intended to be equal and
equitable: rule, therefore, passes from hand to hand, and is
distributed on equal terms: so too is the Friendship accordingly.
In the deflections from the constitutional forms, just as the principle
of Justice is but small so is the Friendship also: and least of all in
the most perverted form: in Despotism there is little or no Friendship.
For generally wherever the ruler and the ruled have nothing in common
there is no Friendship because there is no Justice; but the case is as
between an artisan and his tool, or between soul and body, and master
and slave; all these are benefited by those who use them, but towards
things inanimate there is neither Friendship nor Justice: nor even
towards a horse or an ox, or a slave quâ slave, because there is
nothing in common: a slave as such is an animate tool, a tool an
inanimate slave. Quâ slave, then, there is no Friendship towards him,
only quâ man: for it is thought that there is some principle of
Justice between every man, and every other who can share in law and be
a party to an agreement; and so somewhat of Friendship, in so far as he
is man. So in Despotisms the Friendships and the principle of Justice
are inconsiderable in extent, but in Democracies they are most
considerable because they who are equal have much in common.
Now of course all Friendship is based upon Communion, as has been
already stated: but one would be inclined to separate off from the rest
the Friendship of Kindred, and that of Companions: whereas those of men
of the same city, or tribe, or crew, and all such, are more peculiarly,
it would seem, based upon Communion, inasmuch as they plainly exist in
right of some agreement expressed or implied: among these one may rank
also the Friendship of Hospitality,
The Friendship of Kindred is likewise of many kinds, and appears in all
its varieties to depend on the Parental: parents, I mean, love their
children as being a part of themselves, children love their parents as
being themselves somewhat derived from them. But parents know their
offspring more than these know that they are from the parents, and the
source is more closely bound to that which is produced than that which
is produced is to that which formed it: of course, whatever is derived
from one’s self is proper to that from which it is so derived (as, for
instance, a tooth or a hair, or any other thing whatever to him that
has it): but the source to it is in no degree proper, or in an inferior
degree at least.
Then again the greater length of time comes in: the parents love their
offspring from the first moment of their being, but their offspring
them only after a lapse of time when they have attained intelligence or
instinct. These considerations serve also to show why mothers have
greater strength of affection than fathers.
Now parents love their children as themselves (since what is derived
from themselves becomes a kind of other Self by the fact of
separation), but children their parents as being sprung from them. And
brothers love one another from being sprung from the same; that is,
their sameness with the common stock creates a sameness with one
another; whence come the phrases, “same blood,” “root,” and so on.
In fact they are the same, in a sense, even in the separate distinct
individuals.
Then again the being brought up together, and the nearness of age, are
a great help towards Friendship, for a man likes one of his own age and
persons who are used to one another are companions, which accounts for
the resemblance between the Friendship of Brothers and that of
Companions.
And cousins and all other relatives derive their bond of union from
these, that is to say, from their community of origin: and the strength
of this bond varies according to their respective distances from the
common ancestor.
Further: the Friendship felt by children towards parents, and by men
towards the gods, is as towards something good and above them; because
these have conferred the greatest possible benefits, in that they are
the causes of their being and being nourished, and of their having been
educated after they were brought into being.
And Friendship of this kind has also the pleasurable and the profitable
more than that between persons unconnected by blood, in proportion as
their life is also more shared in common. Then again in the Fraternal
Friendship there is all that there is in that of Companions, and more
in the good, and generally in those who are alike; in proportion as
they are more closely tied and from their very birth have a feeling of
affection for one another to begin with, and as they are more like in
disposition who spring from the same stock and have grown up together
and been educated alike: and besides this they have the greatest
opportunities in respect of time for proving one another, and can
therefore depend most securely upon the trial.
Between Husband and Wife there is thought to be Friendship by a law of
nature: man being by nature disposed to pair, more than to associate in
Communities: in proportion as the family is prior in order of time and
more absolutely necessary than the Community. And procreation is more
common to him with other animals; all the other animals have Communion
thus far, but human creatures cohabit not merely for the sake of
procreation but also with a view to life in general:: because in
this connection the works are immediately divided, and some belong to
the man, others to the woman: thus they help one the other, putting
what is peculiar to each into the common stock.
And for these reasons this Friendship is thought to combine the
profitable and the pleasurable: it will be also based upon virtue if
they are good people; because each has goodness and they may take
delight in this quality in each other. Children too are thought to be a
tie: accordingly the childless sooner separate, for the children are a
good common to both and anything in common is a bond of union.
The question how a man is to live with his wife, or (more generally)
one friend with another, appears to be no other than this, how it is
just that they should: because plainly there is not the same principle
of Justice between a friend and friend, as between strangers, or
companions, or mere chance fellow-travellers.
There are then, as was stated at the commencement of this book, three
kinds of Friendship, and in each there may be friends on a footing of
equality and friends in the relation of superior and inferior; we find,
I mean, that people who are alike in goodness, become friends, and
better with worse, and so also pleasant people; again, because of
advantage people are friends, either balancing exactly their mutual
profitableness or differing from one another herein. Well then, those
who are equal should in right of this equality be equalised also by the
degree of their Friendship and the other points, and those who are on a
footing of inequality by rendering Friendship in proportion to the
superiority of the other party.
Fault-finding and blame arises, either solely or most naturally, in
Friendship of which utility is the motive: for they who are friends by
reason of goodness, are eager to do kindnesses to one another because
this is a natural result of goodness and Friendship; and when men are
vying with each other for this End there can be no fault-finding nor
contention: since no one is annoyed at one who entertains for him the
sentiment of Friendship and does kindnesses to him, but if of a refined
mind he requites him with kind actions. And suppose that one of the two
exceeds the other, yet as he is attaining his object he will not find
fault with his friend, for good is the object of each party.
Neither can there well be quarrels between men who are friends for
pleasure’s sake: because supposing them to delight in living together
then both attain their desire; or if not a man would be put in a
ridiculous light who should find fault with another for not pleasing
him, since it is in his power to forbear intercourse with him. But the
Friendship because of advantage is very liable to fault-finding;
because, as the parties use one another with a view to advantage, the
requirements are continually enlarging, and they think they have less
than of right belongs to them, and find fault because though justly
entitled they do not get as much as they want: while they who do the
kindnesses, can never come up to the requirements of those to whom they
are being done.
It seems also, that as the Just is of two kinds, the unwritten and the
legal, so Friendship because of advantage is of two kinds, what may be
called the Moral, and the Legal: and the most fruitful source of
complaints is that parties contract obligations and discharge them not
in the same line of Friendship. The Legal is upon specified conditions,
either purely tradesmanlike from hand to hand or somewhat more
gentlemanly as regards time but still by agreement a quid pro quo.
In this Legal kind the obligation is clear and admits of no dispute,
the friendly element is the delay in requiring its discharge: and for
this reason in some countries no actions can be maintained at Law for
the recovery of such debts, it being held that they who have dealt on
the footing of credit must be content to abide the issue.
That which may be termed the Moral kind is not upon specified
conditions, but a man gives as to his friend and so on: but still he
expects to receive an equivalent, or even more, as though he had not
given but lent: he also will find fault, because he does not get the
obligation discharged in the same way as it was contracted.
Now this results from the fact, that all men, or the generality at
least, wish what is honourable, but, when tested, choose what is
profitable; and the doing kindnesses disinterestedly is honourable
while receiving benefits is profitable. In such cases one should, if
able, make a return proportionate to the good received, and do so
willingly, because one ought not to make a disinterested friend of a
man against his inclination: one should act, I say, as having made a
mistake originally in receiving kindness from one from whom one ought
not to have received it, he being not a friend nor doing the act
disinterestedly; one should therefore discharge one’s self of the
obligation as having received a kindness on specified terms: and if
able a man would engage to repay the kindness, while if he were unable
even the doer of it would not expect it of him: so that if he is able
he ought to repay it. But one ought at the first to ascertain from whom
one is receiving kindness, and on what understanding, that on that same
understanding one may accept it or not.
A question admitting of dispute is whether one is to measure a kindness
by the good done to the receiver of it, and make this the standard by
which to requite, or by the kind intention of the doer?
For they who have received kindnesses frequently plead in depreciation
that they have received from their benefactors such things as were
small for them to give, or such as they themselves could have got from
others: while the doers of the kindnesses affirm that they gave the
best they had, and what could not have been got from others, and under
danger, or in such-like straits.
May we not say, that as utility is the motive of the Friendship the
advantage conferred on the receiver must be the standard? because he it
is who requests the kindness and the other serves him in his need on
the understanding that he is to get an equivalent: the assistance
rendered is then exactly proportionate to the advantage which the
receiver has obtained, and he should therefore repay as much as he
gained by it, or even more, this being more creditable.
In Friendships based on goodness, the question, of course, is never
raised, but herein the motive of the doer seems to be the proper
standard, since virtue and moral character depend principally on
motive.
Quarrels arise also in those Friendships in which the parties are
unequal because each party thinks himself entitled to the greater
share, and of course, when this happens, the Friendship is broken up.
The man who is better than the other thinks that having the greater
share pertains to him of right, for that more is always awarded to the
good man: and similarly the man who is more profitable to another than
that other to him: “one who is useless,” they say, “ought not to share
equally, for it comes to a tax, and not a Friendship, unless the fruits
of the Friendship are reaped in proportion to the works done:” their
notion being, that as in a money partnership they who contribute more
receive more so should it be in Friendship likewise.
On the other hand, the needy man and the less virtuous advance the
opposite claim: they urge that “it is the very business of a good
friend to help those who are in need, else what is the use of having a
good or powerful friend if one is not to reap the advantage at all?”
Now each seems to advance a right claim and to be entitled to get more
out of the connection than the other, only _not more of the same
thing_: but the superior man should receive more respect, the needy man
more profit: respect being the reward of goodness and beneficence,
profit being the aid of need.
This is plainly the principle acted upon in Political Communities: he
receives no honour who gives no good to the common stock: for the
property of the Public is given to him who does good to the Public, and
honour is the property of the Public; it is not possible both to make
money out of the Public and receive honour likewise; because no one
will put up with the less in every respect: so to him who suffers loss
as regards money they award honour, but money to him who can be paid by
gifts: since, as has been stated before, the observing due proportion
equalises and preserves Friendship.
Like rules then should be observed in the intercourse of friends who
are unequal; and to him who advantages another in respect of money, or
goodness, that other should repay honour, making requital according to
his power; because Friendship requires what is possible, not what is
strictly due, this being not possible in all cases, as in the honours
paid to the gods and to parents: no man could ever make the due return
in these cases, and so he is thought to be a good man who pays respect
according to his ability.
For this reason it may be judged never to be allowable for a son to
disown his father, whereas a father may his son: because he that owes
is bound to pay; now a son can never, by anything he has done, fully
requite the benefits first conferred on him by his father, and so is
always a debtor. But they to whom anything is owed may cast off their
debtors: therefore the father may his son. But at the same time it must
perhaps be admitted, that it seems no father ever would sever himself
utterly from a son, except in a case of exceeding depravity: because,
independently of the natural Friendship, it is like human nature not to
put away from one’s self the assistance which a son might render. But
to the son, if depraved, assisting his father is a thing to be avoided,
or at least one which he will not be very anxious to do; most men being
willing enough to receive kindness, but averse to doing it as
unprofitable.
Let thus much suffice on these points.
Well, in all the Friendships the parties to which are dissimilar it is
the proportionate which equalises and preserves the Friendship, as has
been already stated: I mean, in the Social Friendship the cobbler, for
instance, gets an equivalent for his shoes after a certain rate; and
the weaver, and all others in like manner. Now in this case a common
measure has been provided in money, and to this accordingly all things
are referred and by this are measured: but in the Friendship of Love
the complaint is sometimes from the lover that, though he loves
exceedingly, his love is not requited; he having perhaps all the time
nothing that can be the object of Friendship: again, oftentimes from
the object of love that he who as a suitor promised any and every thing
now performs nothing. These cases occur because the Friendship of the
lover for the beloved object is based upon pleasure, that of the other
for him upon utility, and in one of the parties the requisite quality
is not found: for, as these are respectively the grounds of the
Friendship, the Friendship comes to be broken up because the motives to
it cease to exist: the parties loved not one another but qualities in
one another which are not permanent, and so neither are the
Friendships: whereas the Friendship based upon the moral character of
the parties, being independent and disinterested, is permanent, as we
have already stated.
Quarrels arise also when the parties realise different results and not
those which they desire; for the not attaining one’s special object is
all one, in this case, with getting nothing at all: as in the
well-known case where a man made promises to a musician, rising in
proportion to the excellence of his music; but when, the next morning,
the musician claimed the performance of his promises, he said that he
had given him pleasure for pleasure: of course, if each party had
intended this, it would have been all right: but if the one desires
amusement and the other gain, and the one gets his object but the other
not, the dealing cannot be fair: because a man fixes his mind upon what
he happens to want, and will give so and so for that specific thing.
The question then arises, who is to fix the rate? the man who first
gives, or the man who first takes? because, primâ facie, the man who
first gives seems to leave the rate to be fixed by the other party.
This, they say, was in fact the practice of Protagoras: when he taught
a man anything he would bid the learner estimate the worth of the
knowledge gained by his own private opinion; and then he used to take
so much from him. In such cases some people adopt the rule,
“With specified reward a friend should be content.”
They are certainly fairly found fault with who take the money in
advance and then do nothing of what they said they would do, their
promises having been so far beyond their ability; for such men do not
perform what they agreed, The Sophists, however, are perhaps obliged to
take this course, because no one would give a sixpence for their
knowledge. These then, I say, are fairly found fault with, because they
do not what they have already taken money for doing.
In cases where no stipulation as to the respective services is made
they who disinterestedly do the first service will not raise the
question (as we have said before), because it is the nature of
Friendship, based on mutual goodness to be reference to the intention
of the other, the intention being characteristic of the true friend and
of goodness.
And it would seem the same rule should be laid down for those who are
connected with one another as teachers and learners of philosophy; for
here the value of the commodity cannot be measured by money, and, in
fact, an exactly equivalent price cannot be set upon it, but perhaps it
is sufficient to do what one can, as in the case of the gods or one’s
parents.
But where the original giving is not upon these terms but avowedly for
some return, the most proper course is perhaps for the requital to be
such as both shall allow to be proportionate, and, where this cannot
be, then for the receiver to fix the value would seem to be not only
necessary but also fair: because when the first giver gets that which
is equivalent to the advantage received by the other, or to what he
would have given to secure the pleasure he has had, then he has the
value from him: for not only is this seen to be the course adopted in
matters of buying and selling but also in some places the law does not
allow of actions upon voluntary dealings; on the principle that when
one man has trusted another he must be content to have the obligation
discharged in the same spirit as he originally contracted it: that is
to say, it is thought fairer for the trusted, than for the trusting,
party, to fix the value. For, in general, those who have and those who
wish to get things do not set the same value on them: what is their
own, and what they give in each case, appears to them worth a great
deal: but yet the return is made according to the estimate of those who
have received first, it should perhaps be added that the receiver
should estimate what he has received, not by the value he sets upon it
now that he has it, but by that which he set upon it before he obtained
it.
Questions also arise upon such points as the following: Whether one’s
father has an unlimited claim on one’s services and obedience, or
whether the sick man is to obey his physician? or, in an election of a
general, the warlike qualities of the candidates should be alone
regarded?
In like manner whether one should do a service rather to one’s friend
or to a good man? whether one should rather requite a benefactor or
give to one’s companion, supposing that both are not within one’s
power?
Is not the true answer that it is no easy task to determine all such
questions accurately, inasmuch as they involve numerous differences of
all kinds, in respect of amount and what is honourable and what is
necessary? It is obvious, of course, that no one person can unite in
himself all claims. Again, the requital of benefits is, in general, a
higher duty than doing unsolicited kindnesses to one’s companion; in
other words, the discharging of a debt is more obligatory upon one than
the duty of giving to a companion. And yet this rule may admit of
exceptions; for instance, which is the higher duty? for one who has
been ransomed out of the hands of robbers to ransom in return his
ransomer, be he who he may, or to repay him on his demand though he has
not been taken by robbers, or to ransom his own father? for it would
seem that a man ought to ransom his father even in preference to
himself.
Well then, as has been said already, as a general rule the debt should
be discharged, but if in a particular case the giving greatly
preponderates as being either honourable or necessary, we must be
swayed by these considerations: I mean, in some cases the requital of
the obligation previously existing may not be equal; suppose, for
instance, that the original benefactor has conferred a kindness on a
good man, knowing him to be such, whereas this said good man has to
repay it believing him to be a scoundrel.
And again, in certain cases no obligation lies on a man to lend to one
who has lent to him; suppose, for instance, that a bad man lent to him,
as being a good man, under the notion that he should get repaid,
whereas the said good man has no hope of repayment from him being a bad
man. Either then the case is really as we have supposed it and then the
claim is not equal, or it is not so but supposed to be; and still in so
acting people are not to be thought to act wrongly. In short, as has
been oftentimes stated before, all statements regarding feelings and
actions can be definite only in proportion as their object-matter is
so; it is of course quite obvious that all people have not the same
claim upon one, nor are the claims of one’s father unlimited; just as
Jupiter does not claim all kinds of sacrifice without distinction: and
since the claims of parents, brothers, companions, and benefactors, are
all different, we must give to each what belongs to and befits each.
And this is seen to be the course commonly pursued: to marriages men
commonly invite their relatives, because these are from a common stock
and therefore all the actions in any way pertaining thereto are common
also: and to funerals men think that relatives ought to assemble in
preference to other people, for the same reason.
And it would seem that in respect of maintenance it is our duty to
assist our parents in preference to all others, as being their debtors,
and because it is more honourable to succour in these respects the
authors of our existence than ourselves. Honour likewise we ought to
pay to our parents just as to the gods, but then, not all kinds of
honour: not the same, for instance, to a father as to a mother: nor
again to a father the honour due to a scientific man or to a general
but that which is a father’s due, and in like manner to a mother that
which is a mother’s.
To all our elders also the honour befitting their age, by rising up in
their presence, turning out of the way for them, and all similar marks
of respect: to our companions again, or brothers, frankness and free
participation in all we have. And to those of the same family, or
tribe, or city, with ourselves, and all similarly connected with us, we
should constantly try to render their due, and to discriminate what
belongs to each in respect of nearness of connection, or goodness, or
intimacy: of course in the case of those of the same class the
discrimination is easier; in that of those who are in different classes
it is a matter of more trouble. This, however, should not be a reason
for giving up the attempt, but we must observe the distinctions so far
as it is practicable to do so.
A question is also raised as to the propriety of dissolving or not
dissolving those Friendships the parties to which do not remain what
they were when the connection was formed.
Now surely in respect of those whose motive to Friendship is utility or
pleasure there can be nothing wrong in breaking up the connection when
they no longer have those qualities; because they were friends [not of
one another, but] of those qualities: and, these having failed, it is
only reasonable to expect that they should cease to entertain the
sentiment.
But a man has reason to find fault if the other party, being really
attached to him because of advantage or pleasure, pretended to be so
because of his moral character: in fact, as we said at the
commencement, the most common source of quarrels between friends is
their not being friends on the same grounds as they suppose themselves
to be.
Now when a man has been deceived in having supposed himself to excite
the sentiment of Friendship by reason of his moral character, the other
party doing nothing to indicate he has but himself to blame: but when
he has been deceived by the pretence of the other he has a right to
find fault with the man who has so deceived him, aye even more than
with utterers of false coin, in proportion to the greater preciousness
of that which is the object-matter of the villany.
But suppose a man takes up another as being a good man, who turns out,
and is found by him, to be a scoundrel, is he bound still to entertain
Friendship for him? or may we not say at once it is impossible? since
it is not everything which is the object-matter of Friendship, but only
that which is good; and so there is no obligation to be a bad man’s
friend, nor, in fact, ought one to be such: for one ought not to be a
lover of evil, nor to be assimilated to what is base; which would be
implied, because we have said before, like is friendly to like.
Are we then to break with him instantly? not in all cases; only where
our friends are incurably depraved; when there is a chance of amendment
we are bound to aid in repairing the moral character of our friends
even more than their substance, in proportion as it is better and more
closely related to Friendship. Still he who should break off the
connection is not to be judged to act wrongly, for he never was a
friend to such a character as the other now is, and therefore, since
the man is changed and he cannot reduce him to his original state, he
backs out of the connection.
To put another case: suppose that one party remains what he was when
the Friendship was formed, while the other becomes morally improved and
widely different from his friend in goodness; is the improved character
to treat the other as a friend?
May we not say it is impossible? The case of course is clearest where
there is a great difference, as in the Friendships of boys: for suppose
that of two boyish friends the one still continues a boy in mind and
the other becomes a man of the highest character, how can they be
friends? since they neither are pleased with the same objects nor like
and dislike the same things: for these points will not belong to them
as regards one another, and without them it was assumed they cannot be
friends because they cannot live in intimacy: and of the case of those
who cannot do so we have spoken before.
Well then, is the improved party to bear himself towards his former
friend in no way differently to what he would have done had the
connection never existed?
Surely he ought to bear in mind the intimacy of past times, and just as
we think ourselves bound to do favours for our friends in preference to
strangers, so to those who have been friends and are so no longer we
should allow somewhat on the score of previous Friendship, whenever the
cause of severance is not excessive depravity on their part.
Now the friendly feelings which are exhibited towards our friends, and
by which Friendships are characterised, seem to have sprung out of
those which we entertain toward ourselves.
I mean, people define a friend to be “one who intends and does what is
good (or what he believes to be good) to another for that other’s
sake,” or “one who wishes his friend to be and to live for that
friend’s own sake” (which is the feeling of mothers towards their
children, and of friends who have come into collision). Others again,
“one who lives with another and chooses the same objects,” or “one who
sympathises with his friend in his sorrows and in his joys” (this too
is especially the case with mothers).
Well, by some one of these marks people generally characterise
Friendship: and each of these the good man has towards himself, and all
others have them in so far as they suppose themselves to be good. (For,
as has been said before, goodness, that is the good man, seems to be a
measure to every one else.)
For he is at unity in himself, and with every part of his soul he
desires the same objects; and he wishes for himself both what is, and
what he believes to be, good; and he does it (it being characteristic
of the good man to work at what is good), and for the sake of himself,
inasmuch as he does it for the sake of his Intellectual Principle which
is generally thought to be a man’s Self. Again, he wishes himself And
specially this Principle whereby he is an intelligent being, to live
and be preserved in life, because existence is a good to him that is a
good man.
But it is to himself that each individual wishes what is good, and no
man, conceiving the possibility of his becoming other than he now is,
chooses that that New Self should have all things indiscriminately: a
god, for instance, has at the present moment the Chief Good, but he has
it in right of being whatever he actually now is: and the Intelligent
Principle must be judged to be each man’s Self, or at least eminently
so [though other Principles help, of course, to constitute him the man
he is].
Furthermore, the good man wishes to continue to live with himself; for
he can do it with pleasure, in that his memories of past actions are
full of delight and his anticipations of the future are good and such
are pleasurable. Then, again, he has good store of matter for his
Intellect to contemplate, and he most especially sympathises with his
Self in its griefs and joys, because the objects which give him pain
and pleasure are at all times the same, not one thing to-day and a
different one to-morrow: because he is not given to repentance, if
one may so speak. It is then because each of these feelings are
entertained by the good man towards his own Self and a friend feels
towards a friend as towards himself (a friend being in fact another
Self), that Friendship is thought to be some one of these things and
they are accounted friends in whom they are found. Whether or no there
can really be Friendship between a man and his Self is a question we
will not at present entertain: there may be thought to be Friendship,
in so far as there are two or more of the aforesaid requisites, and
because the highest degree of Friendship, in the usual acceptation of
that term, resembles the feeling entertained by a man towards himself.
But it may be urged that the aforesaid requisites are to all appearance
found in the common run of men, though they are men of a low stamp.
May it not be answered, that they share in them only in so far as they
please themselves, and conceive themselves to be good? for certainly,
they are not either really, or even apparently, found in any one of
those who are very depraved and villainous; we may almost say not even
in those who are bad men at all: for they are at variance with
themselves and lust after different things from those which in cool
reason they wish for, just as men who fail of Self-Control: I mean,
they choose things which, though hurtful, are pleasurable, in
preference to those which in their own minds they believe to be good:
others again, from cowardice and indolence, decline to do what still
they are convinced is best for them: while they who from their
depravity have actually done many dreadful actions hate and avoid life,
and accordingly kill themselves: and the wicked seek others in whose
company to spend their time, but fly from themselves because they have
many unpleasant subjects of memory, and can only look forward to others
like them when in solitude but drown their remorse in the company of
others: and as they have nothing to raise the sentiment of Friendship
so they never feel it towards themselves.
Neither, in fact, can they who are of this character sympathise with
their Selves in their joys and sorrows, because their soul is, as it
were, rent by faction, and the one principle, by reason of the
depravity in them, is grieved at abstaining from certain things, while
the other and better principle is pleased thereat; and the one drags
them this way and the other that way, as though actually tearing them
asunder. And though it is impossible actually to have at the same
time the sensations of pain and pleasure; yet after a little time the
man is sorry for having been pleased, and he could wish that those
objects had not given him pleasure; for the wicked are full of remorse.
It is plain then that the wicked man cannot be in the position of a
friend even towards himself, because he has in himself nothing which
can excite the sentiment of Friendship. If then to be thus is
exceedingly wretched it is a man’s duty to flee from wickedness with
all his might and to strive to be good, because thus may he be friends
with himself and may come to be a friend to another.
Kindly Feeling, though resembling Friendship, is not identical with it,
because it may exist in reference to those whom we do not know and
without the object of it being aware of its existence, which Friendship
cannot. (This, by the way, has also been said before.) And further, it
is not even Affection because it does not imply intensity nor yearning,
which are both consequences of Affection. Again Affection requires
intimacy but Kindly Feeling may arise quite suddenly, as happens
sometimes in respect of men against whom people are matched in any way,
I mean they come to be kindly disposed to them and sympathise in their
wishes, but still they would not join them in any action, because, as
we said, they conceive this feeling of kindness suddenly and so have
but a superficial liking.
What it does seem to be is the starting point of a Friendship; just as
pleasure, received through the sight, is the commencement of Love: for
no one falls in love without being first pleased with the personal
appearance of the beloved object, and yet he who takes pleasure in it
does not therefore necessarily love, but when he wearies for the object
in its absence and desires its presence. Exactly in the same way men
cannot be friends without having passed through the stage of Kindly
Feeling, and yet they who are in that stage do not necessarily advance
to Friendship: they merely have an inert wish for the good of those
toward whom they entertain the feeling, but would not join them in any
action, nor put themselves out of the way for them. So that, in a
metaphorical way of speaking, one might say that it is dormant
Friendship, and when it has endured for a space and ripened into
intimacy comes to be real Friendship; but not that whose object is
advantage or pleasure, because such motives cannot produce even Kindly
Feeling.
I mean, he who has received a kindness requites it by Kindly Feeling
towards his benefactor, and is right in so doing: but he who wishes
another to be prosperous, because he has hope of advantage through his
instrumentality, does not seem to be kindly disposed to that person but
rather to himself; just as neither is he his friend if he pays court to
him for any interested purpose.
Kindly Feeling always arises by reason of goodness and a certain
amiability, when one man gives another the notion of being a fine
fellow, or brave man, etc., as we said was the case sometimes with
those matched against one another.
Unity of Sentiment is also plainly connected with Friendship, and
therefore is not the same as Unity of Opinion, because this might exist
even between people unacquainted with one another.
Nor do men usually say people are united in sentiment merely because
they agree in opinion on any point, as, for instance, on points of
astronomical science (Unity of Sentiment herein not having any
connection with Friendship), but they say that Communities have Unity
of Sentiment when they agree respecting points of expediency and take
the same line and carry out what has been determined in common
consultation.
Thus we see that Unity of Sentiment has for its object matters of
action, and such of these as are of importance, and of mutual, or, in
the case of single States, common, interest: when, for instance, all
agree in the choice of magistrates, or forming alliance with the
Lacedæmonians, or appointing Pittacus ruler (that is to say, supposing
he himself was willing). But when each wishes himself to be in power
(as the brothers in the Phœnissæ), they quarrel and form parties: for,
plainly, Unity of Sentiment does not merely imply that each entertains
the same idea be it what it may, but that they do so in respect of the
same object, as when both the populace and the sensible men of a State
desire that the best men should be in office, because then all attain
their object.
Thus Unity of Sentiment is plainly a social Friendship, as it is also
said to be: since it has for its object-matter things expedient and
relating to life.
And this Unity exists among the good: for they have it towards
themselves and towards one another, being, if I may be allowed the
expression, in the same position: I mean, the wishes of such men are
steady and do not ebb and flow like the Euripus, and they wish what is
just and expedient and aim at these things in common.
The bad, on the contrary, can as little have Unity of Sentiment as they
can be real friends, except to a very slight extent, desiring as they
do unfair advantage in things profitable while they shirk labour and
service for the common good: and while each man wishes for these things
for himself he is jealous of and hinders his neighbour: and as they do
not watch over the common good it is lost. The result is that they
quarrel while they are for keeping one another to work but are not
willing to perform their just share.
Benefactors are commonly held to have more Friendship for the objects
of their kindness than these for them: and the fact is made a subject
of discussion and enquiry, as being contrary to reasonable expectation.
The account of the matter which satisfies most persons is that the one
are debtors and the others creditors: and therefore that, as in the
case of actual loans the debtors wish their creditors out of the way
while the creditors are anxious for the preservation of their debtors,
so those who have done kindnesses desire the continued existence of the
people they have done them to, under the notion of getting a return of
their good offices, while these are not particularly anxious about
requital.
Epicharmus, I suspect, would very probably say that they who give this
solution judge from their own baseness; yet it certainly is like human
nature, for the generality of men have short memories on these points,
and aim rather at receiving than conferring benefits.
But the real cause, it would seem, rests upon nature, and the case is
not parallel to that of creditors; because in this there is no
affection to the persons, but merely a wish for their preservation with
a view to the return: whereas, in point of fact, they who have done
kindnesses feel friendship and love for those to whom they have done
them, even though they neither are, nor can by possibility hereafter
be, in a position to serve their benefactors.
And this is the case also with artisans; every one, I mean, feels more
affection for his own work than that work possibly could for him if it
were animate. It is perhaps specially the case with poets: for these
entertain very great affection for their poems, loving them as their
own children. It is to this kind of thing I should be inclined to
compare the case of benefactors: for the object of their kindness is
their own work, and so they love this more than this loves its creator.
And the account of this is that existence is to all a thing
choice-worthy and an object of affection; now we exist by acts of
working, that is, by living and acting; he then that has created a
given work exists, it may be said, by his act of working: therefore he
loves his work because he loves existence. And this is natural, for the
work produced displays in act what existed before potentially.
Then again, the benefactor has a sense of honour in right of his
action, so that he may well take pleasure in him in whom this resides;
but to him who has received the benefit there is nothing honourable in
respect of his benefactor, only something advantageous which is both
less pleasant and less the object of Friendship.
Again, pleasure is derived from the actual working out of a present
action, from the anticipation of a future one, and from the
recollection of a past one: but the highest pleasure and special object
of affection is that which attends on the actual working. Now the
benefactor’s work abides (for the honourable is enduring), but the
advantage of him who has received the kindness passes away.
Again, there is pleasure in recollecting honourable actions, but in
recollecting advantageous ones there is none at all or much less (by
the way though, the contrary is true of the expectation of advantage).
Further, the entertaining the feeling of Friendship is like acting on
another; but being the object of the feeling is like being acted upon.
So then, entertaining the sentiment of Friendship, and all feelings
connected with it, attend on those who, in the given case of a
benefaction, are the superior party.
Once more: all people value most what has cost them much labour in the
production; for instance, people who have themselves made their money
are fonder of it than those who have inherited it: and receiving
kindness is, it seems, unlaborious, but doing it is laborious. And this
is the reason why the female parents are most fond of their offspring;
for their part in producing them is attended with most labour, and they
know more certainly that they are theirs. This feeling would seem also
to belong to benefactors.
A question is also raised as to whether it is right to love one’s Self
best, or some one else: because men find fault with those who love
themselves best, and call them in a disparaging way lovers of Self; and
the bad man is thought to do everything he does for his own sake
merely, and the more so the more depraved he is; accordingly men
reproach him with never doing anything unselfish: whereas the good man
acts from a sense of honour (and the more so the better man he is), and
for his friend’s sake, and is careless of his own interest.
But with these theories facts are at variance, and not unnaturally: for
it is commonly said also that a man is to love most him who is most his
friend, and he is most a friend who wishes good to him to whom he
wishes it for that man’s sake even though no one knows. Now these
conditions, and in fact all the rest by which a friend is
characterised, belong specially to each individual in respect of his
Self: for we have said before that all the friendly feelings are
derived to others from those which have Self primarily for their
object. And all the current proverbs support this view; for instance,
“one soul,” “the goods of friends are common,” “equality is a tie of
Friendship,” “the knee is nearer than the shin.” For all these things
exist specially with reference to a man’s own Self: he is specially a
friend to himself and so he is bound to love himself the most.
It is with good reason questioned which of the two parties one should
follow, both having plausibility on their side. Perhaps then, in
respect of theories of this kind, the proper course is to distinguish
and define how far each is true, and in what way. If we could ascertain
the sense in which each uses the term “Self-loving,” this point might
be cleared up.
Well now, they who use it disparagingly give the name to those who, in
respect of wealth, and honours, and pleasures of the body, give to
themselves the larger share: because the mass of mankind grasp after
these and are earnest about them as being the best things; which is the
reason why they are matters of contention. They who are covetous in
regard to these gratify their lusts and passions in general, that is to
say the irrational part of their soul: now the mass of mankind are so
disposed, for which reason the appellation has taken its rise from that
mass which is low and bad. Of course they are justly reproached who are
Self-loving in this sense.
And that the generality of men are accustomed to apply the term to
denominate those who do give such things to themselves is quite plain:
suppose, for instance, that a man were anxious to do, more than other
men, acts of justice, or self-mastery, or any other virtuous acts, and,
in general, were to secure to himself that which is abstractedly noble
and honourable, no one would call him Self-loving, nor blame him.
Yet might such an one be judged to be more truly Self-loving: certainly
he gives to himself the things which are most noble and most good, and
gratifies that Principle of his nature which is most rightfully
authoritative, and obeys it in everything: and just as that which
possesses the highest authority is thought to constitute a Community or
any other system, so also in the case of Man: and so he is most truly
Self-loving who loves and gratifies this Principle.
Again, men are said to have, or to fail of having, self-control,
according as the Intellect controls or not, it being plainly implied
thereby that this Principle constitutes each individual; and people are
thought to have done of themselves, and voluntarily, those things
specially which are done with Reason.
It is plain, therefore, that this Principle does, either entirely or
specially constitute the individual man, and that the good man
specially loves this. For this reason then he must be specially
Self-loving, in a kind other than that which is reproached, and as far
superior to it as living in accordance with Reason is to living at the
beck and call of passion, and aiming at the truly noble to aiming at
apparent advantage.
Now all approve and commend those who are eminently earnest about
honourable actions, and if all would vie with one another in respect of
the καλὸν, and be intent upon doing what is most truly noble and
honourable, society at large would have all that is proper while each
individual in particular would have the greatest of goods, Virtue being
assumed to be such.
And so the good man ought to be Self-loving: because by doing what is
noble he will have advantage himself and will do good to others: but
the bad man ought not to be, because he will harm himself and his
neighbours by following low and evil passions. In the case of the bad
man, what he ought to do and what he does are at variance, but the good
man does what he ought to do, because all Intellect chooses what is
best for itself and the good man puts himself under the direction of
Intellect.
Of the good man it is true likewise that he does many things for the
sake of his friends and his country, even to the extent of dying for
them, if need be: for money and honours, and, in short, all the good
things which others fight for, he will throw away while eager to secure
to himself the καλὸν: he will prefer a brief and great joy to a tame
and enduring one, and to live nobly for one year rather than ordinarily
for many, and one great and noble action to many trifling ones. And
this is perhaps that which befals men who die for their country and
friends; they choose great glory for themselves: and they will lavish
their own money that their friends may receive more, for hereby the
friend gets the money but the man himself the καλὸν; so, in fact he
gives to himself the greater good. It is the same with honours and
offices; all these things he will give up to his friend, because this
reflects honour and praise on himself: and so with good reason is he
esteemed a fine character since he chooses the honourable before all
things else. It is possible also to give up the opportunities of action
to a friend; and to have caused a friend’s doing a thing may be more
noble than having done it one’s self.
In short, in all praiseworthy things the good man does plainly give to
himself a larger share of the honourable. In this sense it is right to
be Self-loving, in the vulgar acceptation of the term it is not.
A question is raised also respecting the Happy man, whether he will
want Friends, or no?
Some say that they who are blessed and independent have no need of
Friends, for they already have all that is good, and so, as being
independent, want nothing further: whereas the notion of a friend’s
office is to be as it were a second Self and procure for a man what he
cannot get by himself: hence the saying,
“When Fortune gives us good, what need we Friends?”
On the other hand, it looks absurd, while we are assigning to the Happy
man all other good things, not to give him Friends, which are, after
all, thought to be the greatest of external goods.
Again, if it is more characteristic of a friend to confer than to
receive kindnesses, and if to be beneficent belongs to the good man and
to the character of virtue, and if it is more noble to confer
kindnesses on friends than strangers, the good man will need objects
for his benefactions. And out of this last consideration springs a
question whether the need of Friends be greater in prosperity or
adversity, since the unfortunate man wants people to do him kindnesses
and they who are fortunate want objects for their kind acts.
Again, it is perhaps absurd to make our Happy man a solitary, because
no man would choose the possession of all goods in the world on the
condition of solitariness, man being a social animal and formed by
nature for living with others: of course the Happy man has this
qualification since he has all those things which are good by nature:
and it is obvious that the society of friends and good men must be
preferable to that of strangers and ordinary people, and we conclude,
therefore, that the Happy man does need Friends.
But then, what do they mean whom we quoted first, and how are they
right? Is it not that the mass of mankind mean by Friends those who are
useful? and of course the Happy man will not need such because he has
all good things already; neither will he need such as are Friends with
a view to the pleasurable, or at least only to a slight extent; because
his life, being already pleasurable, does not want pleasure imported
from without; and so, since the Happy man does not need Friends of
these kinds, he is thought not to need any at all.
But it may be, this is not true: for it was stated originally, that
Happiness is a kind of Working; now Working plainly is something that
must come into being, not be already there like a mere piece of
property.
If then the being happy consists in living and working, and the good
man’s working is in itself excellent and pleasurable (as we said at the
commencement of the treatise), and if what is our own reckons among
things pleasurable, and if we can view our neighbours better than
ourselves and their actions better than we can our own, then the
actions of their Friends who are good men are pleasurable to the good;
inasmuch as they have both the requisites which are naturally pleasant.
So the man in the highest state of happiness will need Friends of this
kind, since he desires to contemplate good actions, and actions of his
own, which those of his friend, being a good man, are.
Again, common opinion requires that the Happy man live with pleasure to
himself: now life is burthensome to a man in solitude, for it is not
easy to work continuously by one’s self, but in company with, and in
regard to others, it is easier, and therefore the working, being
pleasurable in itself will be more continuous (a thing which should be
in respect of the Happy man); for the good man, in that he is good
takes pleasure in the actions which accord with Virtue and is annoyed
at those which spring from Vice, just as a musical man is pleased with
beautiful music and annoyed by bad. And besides, as Theognis says,
Virtue itself may be improved by practice, from living with the good.
And, upon the following considerations more purely metaphysical, it
will probably appear that the good friend is naturally choice-worthy to
the good man. We have said before, that whatever is naturally good is
also in itself good and pleasant to the good man; now the fact of
living, so far as animals are concerned, is characterised generally by
the power of sentience, in man it is characterised by that of
sentience, or of rationality (the faculty of course being referred to
the actual operation of the faculty, certainly the main point is the
actual operation of it); so that living seems mainly to consist in the
act of sentience or exerting rationality: now the fact of living is in
itself one of the things that are good and pleasant (for it is a
definite totality, and whatever is such belongs to the nature of good),
but what is naturally good is good to the good man: for which reason it
seems to be pleasant to all. (Of course one must not suppose a life
which is depraved and corrupted, nor one spent in pain, for that which
is such is indefinite as are its inherent qualities: however, what is
to be said of pain will be clearer in what is to follow.)
If then the fact of living is in itself good and pleasant (and this
appears from the fact that all desire it, and specially those who are
good and in high happiness; their course of life being most
choice-worthy and their existence most choice-worthy likewise), then
also he that sees perceives that he sees; and he that hears perceives
that he hears; and he that walks perceives that he walks; and in all
the other instances in like manner there is a faculty which reflects
upon and perceives the fact that we are working, so that we can
perceive that we perceive and intellectually know that we
intellectually know: but to perceive that we perceive or that we
intellectually know is to perceive that we exist, since existence was
defined to be perceiving or intellectually knowing. Now to perceive
that one lives is a thing pleasant in itself, life being a thing
naturally good, and the perceiving of the presence in ourselves of
things naturally good being pleasant.
Therefore the fact of living is choice-worthy, and to the good
specially so since existence is good and pleasant to them: for they
receive pleasure from the internal consciousness of that which in
itself is good.
But the good man is to his friend as to himself, friend being but a
name for a second Self; therefore as his own existence is choice-worthy
to each so too, or similarly at least, is his friend’s existence. But
the ground of one’s own existence being choice-worthy is the perceiving
of one’s self being good, any such perception being in itself pleasant.
Therefore one ought to be thoroughly conscious of one’s friend’s
existence, which will result from living with him, that is sharing in
his words and thoughts: for this is the meaning of the term as applied
to the human species, not mere feeding together as in the case of
brutes.
If then to the man in a high state of happiness existence is in itself
choice-worthy, being naturally good and pleasant, and so too a friend’s
existence, then the friend also must be among things choice-worthy. But
whatever is choice-worthy to a man he should have or else he will be in
this point deficient. The man therefore who is to come up to our notion
“Happy” will need good Friends.
Are we then to make our friends as numerous as possible? or, as in
respect of acquaintance it is thought to have been well said “have not
thou many acquaintances yet be not without;” so too in respect of
Friendship may we adopt the precept, and say that a man should not be
without friends, nor again have exceeding many friends?
Now as for friends who are intended for use, the maxim I have quoted
will, it seems, fit in exceedingly well, because to requite the
services of many is a matter of labour, and a whole life would not be
long enough to do this for them. So that, if more numerous than what
will suffice for one’s own life, they become officious, and are
hindrances in respect of living well: and so we do not want them. And
again of those who are to be for pleasure a few are quite enough, just
like sweetening in our food.
But of the good are we to make as many as ever we can, or is there any
measure of the number of friends, as there is of the number to
constitute a Political Community? I mean, you cannot make one out of
ten men, and if you increase the number to one hundred thousand it is
not any longer a Community. However, the number is not perhaps some one
definite number but any between certain extreme limits.
Well, of friends likewise there is a limited number, which perhaps may
be laid down to be the greatest number with whom it would be possible
to keep up intimacy; this being thought to be one of the greatest marks
of Friendship, and it being quite obvious that it is not possible to be
intimate with many, in other words, to part one’s self among many. And
besides it must be remembered that they also are to be friends to one
another if they are all to live together: but it is a matter of
difficulty to find this in many men at once.
It comes likewise to be difficult to bring home to one’s self the joys
and sorrows of many: because in all probability one would have to
sympathise at the same time with the joys of this one and the sorrows
of that other.
Perhaps then it is well not to endeavour to have very many friends but
so many as are enough for intimacy: because, in fact, it would seem not
to be possible to be very much a friend to many at the same time: and,
for the same reason, not to be in love with many objects at the same
time: love being a kind of excessive Friendship which implies but one
object: and all strong emotions must be limited in the number towards
whom they are felt.
And if we look to facts this seems to be so: for not many at a time
become friends in the way of companionship, all the famous Friendships
of the kind are between two persons: whereas they who have many
friends, and meet everybody on the footing of intimacy, seem to be
friends really to no one except in the way of general society; I mean
the characters denominated as over-complaisant.
To be sure, in the way merely of society, a man may be a friend to many
without being necessarily over-complaisant, but being truly good: but
one cannot be a friend to many because of their virtue, and for the
persons’ own sake; in fact, it is a matter for contentment to find even
a few such.
Again: are friends most needed in prosperity or in adversity? they are
required, we know, in both states, because the unfortunate need help
and the prosperous want people to live with and to do kindnesses to:
for they have a desire to act kindly to some one.
To have friends is more necessary in adversity, and therefore in this
case useful ones are wanted; and to have them in prosperity is more
honourable, and this is why the prosperous want good men for friends,
it being preferable to confer benefits on, and to live with, these. For
the very presence of friends is pleasant even in adversity: since men
when grieved are comforted by the sympathy of their friends.
And from this, by the way, the question might be raised, whether it is
that they do in a manner take part of the weight of calamities, or only
that their presence, being pleasurable, and the consciousness of their
sympathy, make the pain of the sufferer less.
However, we will not further discuss whether these which have been
suggested or some other causes produce the relief, at least the effect
we speak of is a matter of plain fact.
But their presence has probably a mixed effect: I mean, not only is the
very seeing friends pleasant, especially to one in misfortune, and
actual help towards lessening the grief is afforded (the natural
tendency of a friend, if he is gifted with tact, being to comfort by
look and word, because he is well acquainted with the sufferer’s temper
and disposition and therefore knows what things give him pleasure and
pain), but also the perceiving a friend to be grieved at his
misfortunes causes the sufferer pain, because every one avoids being
cause of pain to his friends. And for this reason they who are of a
manly nature are cautious not to implicate their friends in their pain;
and unless a man is exceedingly callous to the pain of others he cannot
bear the pain which is thus caused to his friends: in short, he does
not admit men to wail with him, not being given to wail at all: women,
it is true, and men who resemble women, like to have others to groan
with them, and love such as friends and sympathisers. But it is plain
that it is our duty in all things to imitate the highest character.
On the other hand, the advantages of friends in our prosperity are the
pleasurable intercourse and the consciousness that they are pleased at
our good fortune.
It would seem, therefore, that we ought to call in friends readily on
occasion of good fortune, because it is noble to be ready to do good to
others: but on occasion of bad fortune, we should do so with
reluctance; for we should as little as possible make others share in
our ills; on which principle goes the saying, “I am unfortunate, let
that suffice.” The most proper occasion for calling them in is when
with small trouble or annoyance to themselves they can be of very great
use to the person who needs them.
But, on the contrary, it is fitting perhaps to go to one’s friends in
their misfortunes unasked and with alacrity (because kindness is the
friend’s office and specially towards those who are in need and who do
not demand it as a right, this being more creditable and more pleasant
to both); and on occasion of their good fortune to go readily, if we
can forward it in any way (because men need their friends for this
likewise), but to be backward in sharing it, any great eagerness to
receive advantage not being creditable.
One should perhaps be cautious not to present the appearance of
sullenness in declining the sympathy or help of friends, for this
happens occasionally.
It appears then that the presence of friends is, under all
circumstances, choice-worthy.
May we not say then that, as seeing the beloved object is most prized
by lovers and they choose this sense rather than any of the others
because Love
“Is engendered in the eyes,
With gazing fed,”
in like manner intimacy is to friends most choice-worthy, Friendship
being communion? Again, as a man is to himself so is he to his friend;
now with respect to himself the perception of his own existence is
choice-worthy, therefore is it also in respect of his friend.
And besides, their Friendship is acted out in intimacy, and so with
good reason they desire this. And whatever in each man’s opinion
constitutes existence, or whatsoever it is for the sake of which they
choose life, herein they wish their friends to join with them; and so
some men drink together, others gamble, others join in gymnastic
exercises or hunting, others study philosophy together: in each case
spending their days together in that which they like best of all things
in life, for since they wish to be intimate with their friends they do
and partake in those things whereby they think to attain this object.
Therefore the Friendship of the wicked comes to be depraved; for, being
unstable, they share in what is bad and become depraved in being made
like to one another: but the Friendship of the good is good, growing
with their intercourse; they improve also, as it seems, by repeated
acts, and by mutual correction, for they receive impress from one
another in the points which give them pleasure; whence says the Poet,
“Thou from the good, good things shalt surely learn.”
Here then we will terminate our discourse of Friendship. The next thing
is to go into the subject of Pleasure.
Next, it would seem, follows a discussion respecting Pleasure, for it
is thought to be most closely bound up with our kind: and so men train
the young, guiding them on their course by the rudders of Pleasure and
Pain. And to like and dislike what one ought is judged to be most
important for the formation of good moral character: because these
feelings extend all one’s life through, giving a bias towards and
exerting an influence on the side of Virtue and Happiness, since men
choose what is pleasant and avoid what is painful.
Subjects such as these then, it would seem, we ought by no means to
pass by, and specially since they involve much difference of opinion.
There are those who call Pleasure the Chief Good; there are others who
on the contrary maintain that it is exceedingly bad; some perhaps
from a real conviction that such is the case, others from a notion that
it is better, in reference to our life and conduct, to show up Pleasure
as bad, even if it is not so really; arguing that, as the mass of men
have a bias towards it and are the slaves of their pleasures, it is
right to draw them to the contrary, for that so they may possibly
arrive at the mean.
I confess I suspect the soundness of this policy; in matters respecting
men’s feelings and actions theories are less convincing than facts:
whenever, therefore, they are found conflicting with actual experience,
they not only are despised but involve the truth in their fall: he, for
instance, who deprecates Pleasure, if once seen to aim at it, gets the
credit of backsliding to it as being universally such as he said it
was, the mass of men being incapable of nice distinctions.
Real accounts, therefore, of such matters seem to be most expedient,
not with a view to knowledge merely but to life and conduct: for they
are believed as being in harm with facts, and so they prevail with the
wise to live in accordance with them.
But of such considerations enough: let us now proceed to the current
maxims respecting Pleasure.
Now Eudoxus thought Pleasure to be the Chief Good because he saw all,
rational and irrational alike, aiming at it: and he argued that, since
in all what was the object of choice must be good and what most so the
best, the fact of all being drawn to the same thing proved this thing
to be the best for all: “For each,” he said, “finds what is good for
itself just as it does its proper nourishment, and so that which is
good for all, and the object of the aim of all, is their Chief Good.”
(And his theories were received, not so much for their own sake, as
because of his excellent moral character; for he was thought to be
eminently possessed of perfect self-mastery, and therefore it was not
thought that he said these things because he was a lover of Pleasure
but that he really was so convinced.)
And he thought his position was not less proved by the argument from
the contrary: that is, since Pain was in itself an object of avoidance
to all the contrary must be in like manner an object of choice.
Again he urged that that is most choice-worthy which we choose, not by
reason of, or with a view to, anything further; and that Pleasure is
confessedly of this kind because no one ever goes on to ask to what
purpose he is pleased, feeling that Pleasure is in itself
choice-worthy.
Again, that when added to any other good it makes it more
choice-worthy; as, for instance, to actions of justice, or perfected
self-mastery; and good can only be increased by itself.
However, this argument at least seems to prove only that it belongs to
the class of goods, and not that it does so more than anything else:
for every good is more choicewortby in combination with some other than
when taken quite alone. In fact, it is by just such an argument that
Plato proves that Pleasure is not the Chief Good: “For,” says he,
“the life of Pleasure is more choice-worthy in combination with
Practical Wisdom than apart from it; but, if the compound better then
simple Pleasure cannot be the Chief Good; because the very Chief Good
cannot by any addition become choice-worthy than it is already:” and it
is obvious that nothing else can be the Chief Good, which by
combination with any of the things in themselves good comes to be more
choice-worthy.
What is there then of such a nature? (meaning, of course, whereof we
can partake; because that which we are in search of must be such).
As for those who object that “what all aim at is not necessarily good,”
I confess I cannot see much in what they say, because what all think
we say is. And he who would cut away this ground from under us will
not bring forward things more dependable: because if the argument had
rested on the desires of irrational creatures there might have been
something in what he says, but, since the rational also desire
Pleasure, how can his objection be allowed any weight? and it may be
that, even in the lower animals, there is some natural good principle
above themselves which aims at the good peculiar to them.
Nor does that seem to be sound which is urged respecting the argument
from the contrary: I mean, some people say “it does not follow that
Pleasure must be good because Pain is evil, since evil may be opposed
to evil, and both evil and good to what is indifferent:” now what they
say is right enough in itself but does not hold in the present
instance. If both Pleasure and Pain were bad both would have been
objects of avoidance; or if neither then neither would have been, at
all events they must have fared alike: but now men do plainly avoid the
one as bad and choose the other as good, and so there is a complete
opposition.
Nor again is Pleasure therefore excluded from being good because it
does not belong to the class of qualities: the acts of Virtue are
not qualities, neither is Happiness [yet surely both are goods].
Again, they say the Chief Good is limited but Pleasure unlimited, in
that it admits of degrees.
Now if they judge this from the act of feeling Pleasure then the same
thing will apply to justice and all the other virtues, in respect of
which clearly it is said that men are more or less of such and such
characters (according to the different virtues), they are more just or
more brave, or one may practise justice and self-mastery more or less.
If, on the other hand, they judge in respect of the Pleasures
themselves then it may be they miss the true cause, namely that some
are unmixed and others mixed: for just as health being in itself
limited, admits of degrees, why should not Pleasure do so and yet be
limited? in the former case we account for it by the fact that there is
not the same adjustment of parts in all men, nor one and the same
always in the same individual: but health, though relaxed, remains up
to a certain point, and differs in degrees; and of course the same may
be the case with Pleasure.
Again, assuming the Chief Good to be perfect and all Movements and
Generations imperfect, they try to shew that Pleasure is a Movement and
a Generation.
Yet they do not seem warranted in saying even that it is a Movement:
for to every Movement are thought to belong swiftness and slowness, and
if not in itself, as to that of the universe, yet relatively: but to
Pleasure neither of these belongs: for though one may have got quickly
into the state Pleasure, as into that of anger, one cannot be in the
state quickly, nor relatively to the state of any other person; but
we can walk or grow, and so on, quickly or slowly.
Of course it is possible to change into the state of Pleasure quickly
or slowly, but to act in the state (by which, I mean, have the
perception of Pleasure) quickly, is not possible.
And how can it be a Generation? because, according to notions generally
held, not anything is generated from anything, but a thing resolves
itself into that out of which it was generated: whereas of that of
which Pleasure is a Generation Pain is a Destruction.
Again, they say that Pain is a lack of something suitable to nature and
Pleasure a supply of it.
But these are affections of the body: now if Pleasure really is a
supplying of somewhat suitable to nature, that must feel the Pleasure
in which the supply takes place, therefore the body of course: yet this
is not thought to be so: neither then is Pleasure a supplying, only a
person of course will be pleased when a supply takes place just as he
will be pained when he is cut short.
This notion would seem to have arisen out of the Pains and Pleasures
connected with natural nourishment; because, when people have felt a
lack and so have had Pain first, they, of course, are pleased with the
supply of their lack.
But this is not the case with all Pleasures: those attendant on
mathematical studies, for instance, are unconnected with any Pain; and
of such as attend on the senses those which arise through the sense of
Smell; and again, many sounds, and sights, and memories, and hopes: now
of what can these be Generations? because there has been here no lack
of anything to be afterwards supplied.
And to those who bring forward disgraceful Pleasures we may reply that
these are not really pleasant things; for it does not follow because
they are pleasant to the ill-disposed that we are to admit that they
are pleasant except to them; just as we should not say that those
things are really wholesome, or sweet, or bitter, which are so to the
sick, or those objects really white which give that impression to
people labouring under ophthalmia.
Or we might say thus, that the Pleasures are choice-worthy but not as
derived from these sources: just as wealth is, but not as the price of
treason; or health, but not on the terms of eating anything however
loathsome.
Or again, may we not say that Pleasures differ in kind? those derived
from honourable objects, for instance are different from those arising
from disgraceful ones; and it is not possible to experience the
Pleasure of the just man without being just, or of the musical man
without being musical; and so on of others.
The distinction commonly drawn between the friend and the flatterer
would seem to show clearly either that Pleasure is not a good, or that
there are different kinds of Pleasure: for the former is thought to
have good as the object of his intercourse, the latter Pleasure only;
and this last is reproached, but the former men praise as having
different objects in his intercourse.
Again, no one would choose to live with a child’s intellect all his
life through, though receiving the highest possible Pleasure from such
objects as children receive it from; or to take Pleasure in doing any
of the most disgraceful things, though sure never to be pained.
There are many things also about which we should be diligent even
though they brought no Pleasure; as seeing, remembering, knowing,
possessing the various Excellences; and the fact that Pleasures do
follow on these naturally makes no difference, because we should
certainly choose them even though no Pleasure resulted from them.
It seems then to be plain that Pleasure is not the Chief Good, nor is
every kind of it choice-worthy: and that there are some choice-worthy
in themselves, differing in kind, i.e. in the sources from which they
are derived. Let this then suffice by way of an account of the current
maxims respecting Pleasure and Pain.
Now what it is, and how characterised, will be more plain if we take up
the subject afresh.
An act of Sight is thought to be complete at any moment; that is to
say, it lacks nothing the accession of which subsequently will complete
its whole nature.
Well, Pleasure resembles this: because it is a whole, as one may say;
and one could not at any moment of time take a Pleasure whose whole
nature would be completed by its lasting for a longer time. And for
this reason it is not a Movement: for all Movement takes place in time
of certain duration and has a certain End to accomplish; for instance,
the Movement of house-building is then only complete when the
builder has produced what he intended, that is, either in the whole
time [necessary to complete the whole design], or in a given
portion. But all the subordinate Movements are incomplete in the
parts of the time, and are different in kind from the whole movement
and from one another (I mean, for instance, that the fitting the stones
together is a Movement different from that of fluting the column, and
both again from the construction of the Temple as a whole: but this
last is complete as lacking nothing to the result proposed; whereas
that of the basement, or of the triglyph, is incomplete, because each
is a Movement of a part merely).
As I said then, they differ in kind, and you cannot at any time you
choose find a Movement complete in its whole nature, but, if at all, in
the whole time requisite.
And so it is with the Movement of walking and all others: for, if
motion be a Movement from one place to another place, then of it too
there are different kinds, flying, walking, leaping, and such-like. And
not only so, but there are different kinds even in walking: the
where-from and where-to are not the same in the whole Course as in a
portion of it; nor in one portion as in another; nor is crossing this
line the same as crossing that: because a man is not merely crossing a
line but a line in a given place, and this is in a different place from
that.
Of Movement I have discoursed exactly in another treatise. I will now
therefore only say that it seems not to be complete at any given
moment; and that most movements are incomplete and specifically
different, since the whence and whither constitute different species.
But of Pleasure the whole nature is complete at any given moment: it is
plain then that Pleasure and Movement must be different from one
another, and that Pleasure belongs to the class of things whole and
complete. And this might appear also from the impossibility of moving
except in a definite time, whereas there is none with respect to the
sensation of Pleasure, for what exists at the very present moment is a
kind of “whole.”
From these considerations then it is plain that people are not
warranted in saying that Pleasure is a Movement or a Generation:
because these terms are not applicable to all things, only to such as
are divisible and not “wholes:” I mean that of an act of Sight there is
no Generation, nor is there of a point, nor of a monad, nor is any one
of these a Movement or a Generation: neither then of Pleasure is there
Movement or Generation, because it is, as one may say, “a whole.”
Now since every Percipient Faculty works upon the Object answering to
it, and perfectly the Faculty in a good state upon the most excellent
of the Objects within its range (for Perfect Working is thought to be
much what I have described; and we will not raise any question about
saying “the Faculty” works, instead of, “that subject wherein the
Faculty resides”), in each case the best Working is that of the Faculty
in its best state upon the best of the Objects answering to it. And
this will be, further, most perfect and most pleasant: for Pleasure is
attendant upon every Percipient Faculty, and in like manner on every
intellectual operation and speculation; and that is most pleasant which
is most perfect, and that most perfect which is the Working of the best
Faculty upon the most excellent of the Objects within its range.
And Pleasure perfects the Working. But Pleasure does not perfect it in
the same way as the Faculty and Object of Perception do, being good;
just as health and the physician are not in similar senses causes of a
healthy state.
And that Pleasure does arise upon the exercise of every Percipient
Faculty is evident, for we commonly say that sights and sounds are
pleasant; it is plain also that this is especially the case when the
Faculty is most excellent and works upon a similar Object: and when
both the Object and Faculty of Perception are such, Pleasure will
always exist, supposing of course an agent and a patient.
Furthermore, Pleasure perfects the act of Working not in the way of an
inherent state but as a supervening finish, such as is bloom in people
at their prime. Therefore so long as the Object of intellectual or
sensitive Perception is such as it should be and also the Faculty which
discerns or realises the Object, there will be Pleasure in the Working:
because when that which has the capacity of being acted on and that
which is apt to act are alike and similarly related, the same result
follows naturally.
How is it then that no one feels Pleasure continuously? is it not that
he wearies, because all human faculties are incapable of unintermitting
exertion; and so, of course, Pleasure does not arise either, because
that follows upon the act of Working. But there are some things which
please when new, but afterwards not in the like way, for exactly the
same reason: that at first the mind is roused and works on these
Objects with its powers at full tension; just as they who are gazing
stedfastly at anything; but afterwards the act of Working is not of the
kind it was at first, but careless, and so the Pleasure too is dulled.
Again, a person may conclude that all men grasp at Pleasure, because
all aim likewise at Life and Life is an act of Working, and every man
works at and with those things which also he best likes; the musical
man, for instance, works with his hearing at music; the studious man
with his intellect at speculative questions, and so forth. And Pleasure
perfects the acts of Working, and so Life after which men grasp. No
wonder then that they aim also at Pleasure, because to each it perfects
Life, which is itself choice-worthy. (We will take leave to omit the
question whether we choose Life for Pleasure’s sake of Pleasure for
Life’s sake; because these two plainly are closely connected and admit
not of separation; since Pleasure comes not into being without Working,
and again, every Working Pleasure perfects.)
And this is one reason why Pleasures are thought to differ in kind,
because we suppose that things which differ in kind must be perfected
by things so differing: it plainly being the case with the productions
of Nature and Art; as animals, and trees, and pictures, and statues,
and houses, and furniture; and so we suppose that in like manner acts
of Working which are different in kind are perfected by things
differing in kind. Now Intellectual Workings differ specifically from
those of the Senses, and these last from one another; therefore so do
the Pleasures which perfect them.
This may be shown also from the intimate connection subsisting between
each Pleasure and the Working which it perfects: I mean, that the
Pleasure proper to any Working increases that Working; for they who
work with Pleasure sift all things more closely and carry them out to a
greater degree of nicety; for instance, those men become geometricians
who take Pleasure in geometry, and they apprehend particular points
more completely: in like manner men who are fond of music, or
architecture, or anything else, improve each on his own pursuit,
because they feel Pleasure in them. Thus the Pleasures aid in
increasing the Workings, and things which do so aid are proper and
peculiar: but the things which are proper and peculiar to others
specifically different are themselves also specifically different.
Yet even more clearly may this be shown from the fact that the
Pleasures arising from one kind of Workings hinder other Workings; for
instance, people who are fond of flute-music cannot keep their
attention to conversation or discourse when they catch the sound of a
flute; because they take more Pleasure in flute-playing than in the
Working they are at the time engaged on; in other words, the Pleasure
attendant on flute-playing destroys the Working of conversation or
discourse.
Much the same kind of thing takes place in other cases, when a person
is engaged in two different Workings at the same time: that is, the
pleasanter of the two keeps pushing out the other, and, if the
disparity in pleasantness be great, then more and more till a man even
ceases altogether to work at the other.
This is the reason why, when we are very much pleased with anything
whatever, we do nothing else, and it is only when we are but moderately
pleased with one occupation that we vary it with another: people, for
instance, who eat sweetmeats in the theatre do so most when the
performance is indifferent.
Since then the proper and peculiar Pleasure gives accuracy to the
Workings and makes them more enduring and better of their kind, while
those Pleasures which are foreign to them mar them, it is plain there
is a wide difference between them: in fact, Pleasures foreign to any
Working have pretty much the same effect as the Pains proper to it,
which, in fact, destroy the Workings; I mean, if one man dislikes
writing, or another calculation, the one does not write, the other does
not calculate; because, in each case, the Working is attended with some
Pain: so then contrary effects are produced upon the Workings by the
Pleasures and Pains proper to them, by which I mean those which arise
upon the Working, in itself, independently of any other circumstances.
As for the Pleasures foreign to a Working, we have said already that
they produce a similar effect to the Pain proper to it; that is they
destroy the Working, only not in like way.
Well then, as Workings differ from one another in goodness and badness,
some being fit objects of choice, others of avoidance, and others in
their nature indifferent, Pleasures are similarly related; since its
own proper Pleasure attends or each Working: of course that proper to a
good Working is good, that proper to a bad, bad: for even the desires
for what is noble are praiseworthy, and for what is base blameworthy.
Furthermore, the Pleasures attendant on Workings are more closely
connected with them even than the desires after them: for these last
are separate both in time and nature, but the former are close to the
Workings, and so indivisible from them as to raise a question whether
the Working and the Pleasure are identical; but Pleasure does not seem
to be an Intellectual Operation nor a Faculty of Perception, because
that is absurd; but yet it gives some the impression of being the same
from not being separated from these.
As then the Workings are different so are their Pleasures; now Sight
differs from Touch in purity, and Hearing and Smelling from Taste;
therefore, in like manner, do their Pleasures; and again, Intellectual
Pleasures from these Sensual, and the different kinds both of
Intellectual and Sensual from one another.
It is thought, moreover, that each animal has a Pleasure proper to
itself, as it has a proper Work; that Pleasure of course which is
attendant on the Working. And the soundness of this will appear upon
particular inspection: for horse, dog, and man have different
Pleasures; as Heraclitus says, an ass would sooner have hay than gold;
in other words, provender is pleasanter to asses than gold. So then the
Pleasures of animals specifically different are also specifically
different, but those of the same, we may reasonably suppose, are
without difference.
Yet in the case of human creatures they differ not a little: for the
very same things please some and pain others: and what are painful and
hateful to some are pleasant to and liked by others. The same is the
case with sweet things: the same will not seem so to the man in a fever
as to him who is in health: nor will the invalid and the person in
robust health have the same notion of warmth. The same is the case with
other things also.
Now in all such cases that is held to be which impresses the good man
with the notion of being such and such; and if this is a second maxim
(as it is usually held to be), and Virtue, that is, the Good man, in
that he is such, is the measure of everything, then those must be real
Pleasures which gave him the impression of being so and those things
pleasant in which he takes Pleasure. Nor is it at all astonishing that
what are to him unpleasant should give another person the impression of
being pleasant, for men are liable to many corruptions and marrings;
and the things in question are not pleasant really, only to these
particular persons, and to them only as being thus disposed.
Well of course, you may say, it is obvious that we must assert those
which are confessedly disgraceful to be real Pleasures, except to
depraved tastes: but of those which are thought to be good what kind,
or which, must we say is The Pleasure of Man? is not the answer plain
from considering the Workings, because the Pleasures follow upon these?
If then there be one or several Workings which belong to the perfect
and blessed man, the Pleasures which perfect these Workings must be
said to be specially and properly The Pleasures of Man; and all the
rest in a secondary sense, and in various degrees according as the
Workings are related to those highest and best ones.
Now that we have spoken about the Excellences of both kinds, and
Friendship in its varieties, and Pleasures, it remains to sketch out
Happiness, since we assume that to be the one End of all human things:
and we shall save time and trouble by recapitulating what was stated
before.
Well then, we said that it is not a State merely; because, if it were,
it might belong to one who slept all his life through and merely
vegetated, or to one who fell into very great calamities: and so, if
these possibilities displease us and we would rather put it into the
rank of some kind of Working (as was also said before), and Workings
are of different kinds (some being necessary and choice-worthy with a
view to other things, while others are so in themselves), it is plain
we must rank Happiness among those choice-worthy for their own sakes
and not among those which are so with a view to something further:
because Happiness has no lack of anything but is self-sufficient.
By choice-worthy in themselves are meant those from which nothing is
sought beyond the act of Working: and of this kind are thought to be
the actions according to Virtue, because doing what is noble and
excellent is one of those things which are choice-worthy for their own
sake alone.
And again, such amusements as are pleasant; because people do not
choose them with any further purpose: in fact they receive more harm
than profit from them, neglecting their persons and their property.
Still the common run of those who are judged happy take refuge in such
pastimes, which is the reason why they who have varied talent in such
are highly esteemed among despots; because they make themselves
pleasant in those things which these aim at, and these accordingly want
such men.
Now these things are thought to be appurtenances of Happiness because
men in power spend their leisure herein: yet, it may be, we cannot
argue from the example of such men: because there is neither Virtue nor
Intellect necessarily involved in having power, and yet these are the
only sources of good Workings: nor does it follow that because these
men, never having tasted pure and generous Pleasure, take refuge in
bodily ones, we are therefore to believe them to be more choice-worthy:
for children too believe that those things are most excellent which are
precious in their eyes.
We may well believe that as children and men have different ideas as to
what is precious so too have the bad and the good: therefore, as we
have many times said, those things are really precious and pleasant
which seem so to the good man: and as to each individual that Working
is most choice-worthy which is in accordance with his own state to the
good man that is so which is in accordance with Virtue.
Happiness then stands not in amusement; in fact the very notion is
absurd of the End being amusement, and of one’s toiling and enduring
hardness all one’s life long with a view to amusement: for everything
in the world, so to speak, we choose with some further End in view,
except Happiness, for that is the End comprehending all others. Now to
take pains and to labour with a view to amusement is plainly foolish
and very childish: but to amuse one’s self with a view to steady
employment afterwards, as Anacharsis says, is thought to be right: for
amusement is like rest, and men want rest because unable to labour
continuously.
Rest, therefore, is not an End, because it is adopted with a view to
Working afterwards.
Again, it is held that the Happy Life must be one in the way of
Excellence, and this is accompanied by earnestness, and stands not
in amusement. Moreover those things which are done in earnest, we say,
are better than things merely ludicrous and joined with amusement: and
we say that the Working of the better part, or the better man, is more
earnest; and the Working of the better is at once better and more
capable of Happiness.
Then, again, as for bodily Pleasures, any ordinary person, or even a
slave, might enjoy them, just as well as the best man living but
Happiness no one supposes a slave to share except so far as it is
implied in life: because Happiness stands not in such pastimes but in
the Workings in the way of Excellence, as has also been stated before.
Now if Happiness is a Working in the way of Excellence of course that
Excellence must be the highest, that is to say, the Excellence of the
best Principle. Whether then this best Principle is Intellect or some
other which is thought naturally to rule and to lead and to conceive of
noble and divine things, whether being in its own nature divine or the
most divine of all our internal Principles, the Working of this in
accordance with its own proper Excellence must be the perfect
Happiness.
That it is Contemplative has been already stated: and this would seem
to be consistent with what we said before and with truth: for, in the
first place, this Working is of the highest kind, since the Intellect
is the highest of our internal Principles and the subjects with which
it is conversant the highest of all which fall within the range of our
knowledge.
Next, it is also most Continuous: for we are better able to contemplate
than to do anything else whatever, continuously.
Again, we think Pleasure must be in some way an ingredient in
Happiness, and of all Workings in accordance with Excellence that in
the way of Science is confessedly most pleasant: at least the pursuit
of Science is thought to contain Pleasures admirable for purity and
permanence; and it is reasonable to suppose that the employment is more
pleasant to those who have mastered, than to those who are yet seeking
for, it.
And the Self-Sufficiency which people speak of will attach chiefly to
the Contemplative Working: of course the actual necessaries of life are
needed alike by the man of science, and the just man, and all the other
characters; but, supposing all sufficiently supplied with these, the
just man needs people towards whom, and in concert with whom, to
practise his justice; and in like manner the man of perfected
self-mastery, and the brave man, and so on of the rest; whereas the man
of science can contemplate and speculate even when quite alone, and the
more entirely he deserves the appellation the more able is he to do so:
it may be he can do better for having fellow-workers but still he is
certainly most Self-Sufficient.
Again, this alone would seem to be rested in for its own sake, since
nothing results from it beyond the fact of having contemplated; whereas
from all things which are objects of moral action we do mean to get
something beside the doing them, be the same more or less.
Also, Happiness is thought to stand in perfect rest; for we toil
that we may rest, and war that we may be at peace. Now all the
Practical Virtues require either society or war for their Working, and
the actions regarding these are thought to exclude rest; those of war
entirely, because no one chooses war, nor prepares for war, for war’s
sake: he would indeed be thought a bloodthirsty villain who should make
enemies of his friends to secure the existence of fighting and
bloodshed. The Working also of the statesman excludes the idea of rest,
and, beside the actual work of government, seeks for power and
dignities or at least Happiness for the man himself and his
fellow-citizens: a Happiness distinct from the national Happiness,
which we evidently seek as being different and distinct.
If then of all the actions in accordance with the various virtues those
of policy and war are pre-eminent in honour and greatness, and these
are restless, and aim at some further End and are not choice-worthy for
their own sakes, but the Working of the Intellect, being apt for
contemplation, is thought to excel in earnestness, and to aim at no End
beyond itself and to have Pleasure of its own which helps to increase
the Working, and if the attributes of Self-Sufficiency, and capacity of
rest, and unweariedness (as far as is compatible with the infirmity of
human nature), and all other attributes of the highest Happiness,
plainly belong to this Working, this must be perfect Happiness, if
attaining a complete duration of life, which condition is added because
none of the points of Happiness is incomplete.
But such a life will be higher than mere human nature, because a man
will live thus, not in so far as he is man but in so far as there is in
him a divine Principle: and in proportion as this Principle excels his
composite nature so far does the Working thereof excel that in
accordance with any other kind of Excellence: and therefore, if pure
Intellect, as compared with human nature, is divine, so too will the
life in accordance with it be divine compared with man’s ordinary life.
Yet must we not give ear to those who bid one as man to mind only man’s
affairs, or as mortal only mortal things; but, so far as we can, make
ourselves like immortals and do all with a view to living in accordance
with the highest Principle in us, for small as it may be in bulk yet in
power and preciousness it far more excels all the others.
In fact this Principle would seem to constitute each man’s “Self,”
since it is supreme and above all others in goodness it would be
absurd then for a man not to choose his own life but that of some
other.
And here will apply an observation made before, that whatever is proper
to each is naturally best and pleasantest to him: such then is to Man
the life in accordance with pure Intellect (since this Principle is
most truly Man), and if so, then it is also the happiest.
And second in degree of Happiness will be that Life which is in
accordance with the other kind of Excellence, for the Workings in
accordance with this are proper to Man: I mean, we do actions of
justice, courage, and the other virtues, towards one another, in
contracts, services of different kinds, and in all kinds of actions and
feelings too, by observing what is befitting for each: and all these
plainly are proper to man. Further, the Excellence of the Moral
character is thought to result in some points from physical
circumstances, and to be, in many, very closely connected with the
passions.
Again, Practical Wisdom and Excellence of the Moral character are
very closely united; since the Principles of Practical Wisdom are in
accordance with the Moral Virtues and these are right when they accord
with Practical Wisdom.
These moreover, as bound up with the passions, must belong to the
composite nature, and the Excellences or Virtues of the composite
nature are proper to man: therefore so too will be the life and
Happiness which is in accordance with them. But that of the Pure
Intellect is separate and distinct: and let this suffice upon the
subject, since great exactness is beyond our purpose,
It would seem, moreover, to require supply of external goods to a small
degree, or certainly less than the Moral Happiness: for, as far as
necessaries of life are concerned, we will suppose both characters to
need them equally (though, in point of fact, the man who lives in
society does take more pains about his person and all that kind of
thing; there will really be some little difference), but when we come
to consider their Workings there will be found a great difference.
I mean, the liberal man must have money to do his liberal actions with,
and the just man to meet his engagements (for mere intentions are
uncertain, and even those who are unjust make a pretence of wishing
to do justly), and the brave man must have power, if he is to perform
any of the actions which appertain to his particular Virtue, and the
man of perfected self-mastery must have opportunity of temptation, else
how shall he or any of the others display his real character?
(By the way, a question is sometimes raised, whether the moral choice
or the actions have most to do with Virtue, since it consists in both:
it is plain that the perfection of virtuous action requires both: but
for the actions many things are required, and the greater and more
numerous they are the more.) But as for the man engaged in
Contemplative Speculation, not only are such things unnecessary for his
Working, but, so to speak, they are even hindrances: as regards the
Contemplation at least; because of course in so far as he is Man and
lives in society he chooses to do what Virtue requires, and so he will
need such things for maintaining his character as Man though not as a
speculative philosopher.
And that the perfect Happiness must be a kind of Contemplative Working
may appear also from the following consideration: our conception of the
gods is that they are above all blessed and happy: now what kind of
Moral actions are we to attribute to them? those of justice? nay, will
they not be set in a ridiculous light if represented as forming
contracts, and restoring deposits, and so on? well then, shall we
picture them performing brave actions, withstanding objects of fear and
meeting dangers, because it is noble to do so? or liberal ones? but to
whom shall they be giving? and further, it is absurd to think they have
money or anything of the kind. And as for actions of perfected
self-mastery, what can theirs be? would it not be a degrading praise
that they have no bad desires? In short, if one followed the subject
into all details all the circumstances connected with Moral actions
would appear trivial and unworthy of Gods.
Still, every one believes that they live, and therefore that they Work
because it is not supposed that they sleep their time away like
Endymion: now if from a living being you take away Action, still more
if Creation, what remains but Contemplation? So then the Working of the
Gods, eminent in blessedness, will be one apt for Contemplative
Speculation; and of all human Workings that will have the greatest
capacity for Happiness which is nearest akin to this.
A corroboration of which position is the fact that the other animals do
not partake of Happiness, being completely shut out from any such
Working.
To the Gods then all their life is blessed; and to men in so far as
there is in it some copy of such Working, but of the other animals none
is happy because it in no way shares in Contemplative Speculation.
Happiness then is co-extensive with this Contemplative Speculation, and
in proportion as people have the act of Contemplation so far have they
also the being happy, not incidentally, but in the way of Contemplative
Speculation because it is in itself precious.
So Happiness must be a kind of Contemplative Speculation; but since it
is Man we are speaking of he will need likewise External Prosperity,
because his Nature is not by itself sufficient for Speculation, but
there must be health of body, and nourishment, and tendance of all
kinds.
However, it must not be thought, because without external goods a man
cannot enjoy high Happiness, that therefore he will require many and
great goods in order to be happy: for neither Self-sufficiency, nor
Action, stand in Excess, and it is quite possible to act nobly without
being ruler of sea and land, since even with moderate means a man may
act in accordance with Virtue.
And this may be clearly seen in that men in private stations are
thought to act justly, not merely no less than men in power but even
more: it will be quite enough that just so much should belong to a man
as is necessary, for his life will be happy who works in accordance
with Virtue.
Solon perhaps drew a fair picture of the Happy, when he said that they
are men moderately supplied with external goods, and who have achieved
the most noble deeds, as he thought, and who have lived with perfect
self-mastery: for it is quite possible for men of moderate means to act
as they ought.
Anaxagoras also seems to have conceived of the Happy man not as either
rich or powerful, saying that he should not wonder if he were accounted
a strange man in the judgment of the multitude: for they judge by
outward circumstances of which alone they have any perception.
And thus the opinions of the Wise seem to be accordant with our account
of the matter: of course such things carry some weight, but truth, in
matters of moral action, is judged from facts and from actual life, for
herein rests the decision. So what we should do is to examine the
preceding statements by referring them to facts and to actual life, and
when they harmonise with facts we may accept them, when they are at
variance with them conceive of them as mere theories.
Now he that works in accordance with, and pays observance to, Pure
Intellect, and tends this, seems likely to be both in the best frame of
mind and dearest to the Gods: because if, as is thought, any care is
bestowed on human things by the Gods then it must be reasonable to
think that they take pleasure in what is best and most akin to
themselves (and this must be the Pure Intellect); and that they requite
with kindness those who love and honour this most, as paying observance
to what is dear to them, and as acting rightly and nobly. And it is
quite obvious that the man of Science chiefly combines all these: he is
therefore dearest to the Gods, and it is probable that he is at the
same time most Happy.
Thus then on this view also the man of Science will be most Happy.
Now then that we have said enough in our sketchy kind of way on these
subjects; I mean, on the Virtues, and also on Friendship and Pleasure;
are we to suppose that our original purpose is completed? Must we not
rather acknowledge, what is commonly said, that in matters of moral
action mere Speculation and Knowledge is not the real End but rather
Practice: and if so, then neither in respect of Virtue is Knowledge
enough; we must further strive to have and exert it, and take whatever
other means there are of becoming good.
Now if talking and writing were of themselves sufficient to make men
good, they would justly, as Theognis observes have reaped numerous and
great rewards, and the thing to do would be to provide them: but in
point of fact, while they plainly have the power to guide and stimulate
the generous among the young and to base upon true virtuous principle
any noble and truly high-minded disposition, they as plainly are
powerless to guide the mass of men to Virtue and goodness; because it
is not their nature to be amenable to a sense of shame but only to
fear; nor to abstain from what is low and mean because it is
disgraceful to do it but because of the punishment attached to it: in
fact, as they live at the beck and call of passion, they pursue their
own proper pleasures and the means of securing them, and they avoid the
contrary pains; but as for what is noble and truly pleasurable they
have not an idea of it, inasmuch as they have never tasted of it.
Men such as these then what mere words can transform? No, indeed! it is
either actually impossible, or a task of no mean difficulty, to alter
by words what has been of old taken into men’s very dispositions: and,
it may be, it is a ground for contentment if with all the means and
appliances for goodness in our hands we can attain to Virtue.
The formation of a virtuous character some ascribe to Nature, some to
Custom, and some to Teaching. Now Nature’s part, be it what it may,
obviously does not rest with us, but belongs to those who in the truest
sense are fortunate, by reason of certain divine agency,
Then, as for Words and Precept, they, it is to be feared, will not
avail with all; but it may be necessary for the mind of the disciple to
have been previously prepared for liking and disliking as he ought;
just as the soil must, to nourish the seed sown. For he that lives in
obedience to passion cannot hear any advice that would dissuade him,
nor, if he heard, understand: now him that is thus how can one reform?
in fact, generally, passion is not thought to yield to Reason but to
brute force. So then there must be, to begin with, a kind of affinity
to Virtue in the disposition; which must cleave to what is honourable
and loath what is disgraceful. But to get right guidance towards Virtue
from the earliest youth is not easy unless one is brought up under laws
of such kind; because living with self-mastery and endurance is not
pleasant to the mass of men, and specially not to the young. For this
reason the food, and manner of living generally, ought to be the
subject of legal regulation, because things when become habitual will
not be disagreeable.
Yet perhaps it is not sufficient that men while young should get right
food and tendance, but, inasmuch as they will have to practise and
become accustomed to certain things even after they have attained to
man’s estate, we shall want laws on these points as well, and, in fine,
respecting one’s whole life, since the mass of men are amenable to
compulsion rather than Reason, and to punishment rather than to a sense
of honour.
And therefore some men hold that while lawgivers should employ the
sense of honour to exhort and guide men to Virtue, under the notion
that they will then obey who have been well trained in habits; they
should impose chastisement and penalties on those who disobey and are
of less promising nature; and the incurable expel entirely: because the
good man and he who lives under a sense of honour will be obedient to
reason; and the baser sort, who grasp at pleasure, will be kept in
check, like beasts of burthen by pain. Therefore also they say that the
pains should be such as are most contrary to the pleasures which are
liked.
As has been said already, he who is to be good must have been brought
up and habituated well, and then live accordingly under good
institutions, and never do what is low and mean, either against or with
his will. Now these objects can be attained only by men living in
accordance with some guiding Intellect and right order, with power to
back them.
As for the Paternal Rule, it possesses neither strength nor compulsory
power, nor in fact does the Rule of any one man, unless he is a king or
some one in like case: but the Law has power to compel, since it is a
declaration emanating from Practical Wisdom and Intellect. And people
feel enmity towards their fellow-men who oppose their impulses, however
rightly they may do so: the Law, on the contrary, is not the object of
hatred, though enforcing right rules.
The Lacedæmonian is nearly the only State in which the framer of the
Constitution has made any provision, it would seem, respecting the food
and manner of living of the people: in most States these points are
entirely neglected, and each man lives just as he likes, ruling his
wife and children Cyclops-Fashion.
Of course, the best thing would be that there should be a right Public
System and that we should be able to carry it out: but, since as a
public matter those points are neglected, the duty would seem to
devolve upon each individual to contribute to the cause of Virtue with
his own children and friends, or at least to make this his aim and
purpose: and this, it would seem, from what has been said, he will be
best able to do by making a Legislator of himself: since all public
systems, it is plain, are formed by the instrumentality of laws and
those are good which are formed by that of good laws: whether they are
written or unwritten, whether they are applied to the training of one
or many, will not, it seems, make any difference, just as it does not
in music, gymnastics, or any other such accomplishments, which are
gained by practice.
For just as in Communities laws and customs prevail, so too in families
the express commands of the Head, and customs also: and even more in
the latter, because of blood-relationship and the benefits conferred:
for there you have, to begin with, people who have affection and are
naturally obedient to the authority which controls them.
Then, furthermore, Private training has advantages over Public, as in
the case of the healing art: for instance, as a general rule, a man who
is in a fever should keep quiet, and starve; but in a particular case,
perhaps, this may not hold good; or, to take a different illustration,
the boxer will not use the same way of fighting with all antagonists.
It would seem then that the individual will be most exactly attended to
under Private care, because so each will be more likely to obtain what
is expedient for him. Of course, whether in the art of healing, or
gymnastics, or any other, a man will treat individual cases the better
for being acquainted with general rules; as, “that so and so is good
for all, or for men in such and such cases:” because general maxims are
not only said to be but are the object-matter of sciences: still this
is no reason against the possibility of a man’s taking excellent care
of some one case, though he possesses no scientific knowledge but
from experience is exactly acquainted with what happens in each point;
just as some people are thought to doctor themselves best though they
would be wholly unable to administer relief to others. Yet it may seem
to be necessary nevertheless, for one who wishes to become a real
artist and well acquainted with the theory of his profession, to have
recourse to general principles and ascertain all their capacities: for
we have already stated that these are the object-matter of sciences.
If then it appears that we may become good through the instrumentality
of laws, of course whoso wishes to make men better by a system of care
and training must try to make a Legislator of himself; for to treat
skilfully just any one who may be put before you is not what any
ordinary person can do, but, if any one, he who has knowledge; as in
the healing art, and all others which involve careful practice and
skill.
Will not then our next business be to enquire from what sources, or how
one may acquire this faculty of Legislation; or shall we say, that, as
in similar cases, Statesmen are the people to learn from, since this
faculty was thought to be a part of the Social Science? Must we not
admit that the Political Science plainly does not stand on a similar
footing to that of other sciences and faculties? I mean, that while in
all other cases those who impart the faculties and themselves exert
them are identical (physicians and painters for instance) matters of
Statesmanship the Sophists profess to teach, but not one of them
practises it, that being left to those actually engaged in it: and
these might really very well be thought to do it by some singular knack
and by mere practice rather than by any intellectual process: for they
neither write nor speak on these matters (though it might be more to
their credit than composing speeches for the courts or the assembly),
nor again have they made Statesmen of their own sons or their friends.
One can hardly suppose but that they would have done so if they could,
seeing that they could have bequeathed no more precious legacy to their
communities, nor would they have preferred, for themselves or their
dearest friends, the possession of any faculty rather than this.
Practice, however, seems to contribute no little to its acquisition;
merely breathing the atmosphere of politics would never have made
Statesmen of them, and therefore we may conclude that they who would
acquire a knowledge of Statesmanship must have in addition practice.
But of the Sophists they who profess to teach it are plainly a long way
off from doing so: in fact, they have no knowledge at all of its nature
and objects; if they had, they would never have put it on the same
footing with Rhetoric or even on a lower: neither would they have
conceived it to be “an easy matter to legislate by simply collecting
such laws as are famous because of course one could select the best,”
as though the selection were not a matter of skill, and the judging
aright a very great matter, as in Music: for they alone, who have
practical knowledge of a thing, can judge the performances rightly or
understand with what means and in what way they are accomplished, and
what harmonises with what: the unlearned must be content with being
able to discover whether the result is good or bad, as in painting.
Now laws may be called the performances or tangible results of
Political Science; how then can a man acquire from these the faculty of
Legislation, or choose the best? we do not see men made physicians by
compilations: and yet in these treatises men endeavour to give not only
the cases but also how they may be cured, and the proper treatment in
each case, dividing the various bodily habits. Well, these are thought
to be useful to professional men, but to the unprofessional useless. In
like manner it may be that collections of laws and Constitutions would
be exceedingly useful to such as are able to speculate on them, and
judge what is well, and what ill, and what kind of things fit in with
what others: but they who without this qualification should go through
such matters cannot have right judgment, unless they have it by
instinct, though they may become more intelligent in such matters.
Since then those who have preceded us have left uninvestigated the
subject of Legislation, it will be better perhaps for us to investigate
it ourselves, and, in fact, the whole subject of Polity, that thus what
we may call Human Philosophy may be completed as far as in us lies.
First then, let us endeavour to get whatever fragments of good there
may be in the statements of our predecessors, next, from the Polities
we have collected, ascertain what kind of things preserve or destroy
Communities, and what, particular Constitutions; and the cause why some
are well and others ill managed, for after such enquiry, we shall be
the better able to take a concentrated view as to what kind of
Constitution is best, what kind of regulations are best for each, and
what laws and customs.