A New Aristotle Reader 9781400835829

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A NEW ARISTOTLE R E A D E R

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A NEW ARISTOTLE READER E D I T E D BY

J. L. A C K R I L L

PRINCETON U N I V E R S I T Y PRESS P R I N C E T O N , NEW JERSEY

Copyright CJ. L. Ackrill 1987 Published in the United States by Princeton University Press, 41 William Street, Princeton, New Jersey 08540 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Princeton University Press Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Aristotle. A new Aristotle reader. Bibliography: p. i. Philosophy. I. Ackrill, J. L. II. Title. 8407.A24 iqSyb 185 87-42739 ISBN 0-691-07317-1 ISBN 0-691-02043-4 (pbk.)

Princeton University Press books are printed on acid-free paper and meet the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Committee on Production Guidelines for Book Longevity of the Council on Library Resources Typeset by Joshua Associates Limited, Oxford Printed in the United States of America Fourth paperback printing, with corrections, 1989 19 18 17 16 15 14 13

ISBN-13: 978-0-691-02043-3 (pbk.) ISBN-10: 0-691-02043-4 (pbk.)

CONTENTS Translations

vii

Aristotle's Works

x

Introduction

xi

Glossary

xiv

TEXTS Logic

3

Natural Philosophy

79

Metaphysics

253

Practical Philosophy

361

Topics

557

List of Books

577

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TRANSLATIONS Logic Categories

5

J-5 De Interpretatione

12

Prior Analytics I. 1-7; 27,43-25-43

24

i-ii

II. 21

Posterior Analytics I. 1-4,10,13

39

II. 1-2, 8-10, 12, 19

Topics

I.

60

Natural Philosophy Physics

81

I. 1-2, 5-9 II.

III. 1-3, 5.205"7-6.2O7"i4 I V . 4.2IO b 32-2I2 a 2i; I O — I I

VIII. 6; io.26ya2i-b26

On the Heavensb

I. 2; 9; io.279 4~280*10; i2.28ib3-33

132

II. I2.292"lO-b25

III. 6

On Generation and Corruption I. 3;4.3i9b6-2i II. i.329'24-bs; 3.330*30-b6; 33ob3i-33i"6; 4.33i"6-bi2; 9-11

143

Meteorology

158

On the Soul I. i;44o8a34-b29 II. except c. 7 III. except cc. 12-13

161

On Memory i

206

I. i IV. 12

viii

Translations

OnSleep

210

2

On Dreams

214

On Youth and Old Age

218

Pans of Animals

220

2.459*23-b23, 46o"32-b27; 3.461*30-462*8 3.468b28-4.469b2o

I.i,5 II. i

Movement of Animals

233

Generation of Animals

241

6-ii

I. 2i.729bi-II. 1.732*12 II. i.734b2i-735-26; 3-736'24-737*34 V. i.778ai6-bi9;8

Metaphysics Metaphysics* I. (A) 1-2 III. (B) i IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XII. XIII.

255

(F) 1-3; 4.ioo5b35-ioo6*28, ioo8b2-ioo9*5; 5.1009*6-16, ioio b i-29 (d)4-8; 29 (£) (Z) (//) (>

CHAPTER 5 The end, then, being what we wish for, the things contributing to the end what we deliberate about and choose, actions concerning the latter must be according to choice and voluntary. Now the exercise of the 5 excellences is concerned with these. Therefore excellence also is in our own power, and so too vice. For where it is in our power to act it is also in our power not to act, and vice versa; so that, if to act, where this is noble, is in our power, not to act, which will be base, will also be in our power, and if not to act, where this is noble, is in our power, to act, which will be i o base, will also be in our power. Now if it is in our power to do noble or base acts, and likewise in our power not to do them, and this was what being good or bad meant, then it is in our power to be virtuous or vicious. The saying that 'no one is voluntarily wicked or involuntarily 15 blessed' seems to be partly false and partly true; for no one is involuntarily blessed, but wickedness is voluntary. Or else we shall have to dispute what has just been said, at any rate, and deny that man is a moving principle or begetter of his actions as of children. But if these facts are evident and we cannot refer actions to moving principles other 2o than those in ourselves, the acts whose moving principles are in us must themselves also be in our power and voluntary. Witness seems to be borne to this both by individuals in their private capacity and by legislators themselves; for these punish and take vengeance on those who do wicked acts (unless they have acted under compulsion or as a result of ignorance for which they are not themselves responsible), while they honour those who do noble acts, as though they 25 meant to encourage the latter and deter the former. But no one is encouraged to do the things that are neither in our power nor voluntary; it is assumed that there is no gain in being persuaded not to be hot or in pain or hungry or the like, since we shall experience these feelings none the less. Indeed, we punish a man for his very ignorance, if he is thought 30 responsible for the ignorance, as when penalties are doubled in the case of drunkenness; for the moving principle is in the man himself, since he had the power of not getting drunk and his getting drunk was the cause of his ignorance. And we punish those who are ignorant of anything in the laws that they ought to know and that is not difficult, and so too in the 1114" case of anything else that they are thought to be ignorant of through

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carelessness; we assume that it is in their power not to be ignorant, since they have the power of taking care. But perhaps a man is the kind of man not to take care. Still they are themselves by their slack lives responsible for becoming men of that kind, and men are themselves responsible for being unjust or selfindulgent, in that they cheat or spend their time in drinking bouts and the like; for it is activities exercised on particular objects that make the corresponding character. This is plain from the case of people training for any contest or action; they practise the activity the whole time. Now not to know that it is from the exercise of activities on particular objects that states of character are produced is the mark of a thoroughly senseless person. Again, it is irrational to suppose that a man who acts unjustly does not wish to be unjust or a man who acts selfindulgently to be self-indulgent. But if without being ignorant a man does the things which will make him unjust, he will be unjust voluntarily. Yet it does not follow that if he wishes he will cease to be unjust and will be just. For neither does the man who is ill become well on those terms—although he may, perhaps, be ill voluntarily, through living incontinently and disobeying his doctors. In that case it was then open to him not to be ill, but not now, when he has thrown away his chance, just as when you have let a stone go it is too late to recover it; but yet it was in your power to throw it, since the moving principle was in you. So, too, to the unjust and to the selfindulgent man it was open at the beginning not to become men of this kind, and so they are such voluntarily; but now that they have become so it is not possible for them not to be so. But not only are the vices of the soul voluntary, but those of the body also for some men, whom we accordingly blame; while no one blames those who are ugly by nature, we blame those who are so owing to want of exercise and care. So it is, too, with respect to weakness and infirmity; no one would reproach a man blind from birth or by disease or from a blow, but rather pity him, while everyone would blame a man who was blind from alcoholism or some other form of self-indulgence. Of vices of the body, then, those in our own power are blamed, those not in our power are not. And if this be so, in the other cases also the vices that are blamed must be in our own power. Now someone may say that all men aim at the apparent good, but have no control over the appearance; but the end appears to each man in a form answering to his character. We reply that if each man is somehow responsible for the state he is in, he will also be himself somehow

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397

responsible for how things appear to him; but if not, no one is responsible for his own evildoing, but everyone does evil acts through ignorance of the end, thinking that by these he will get what is best, and the aiming at the end is not self-chosen but one must be born with an eye, as it were, by which to judge rightly and choose what is truly good, and he is well endowed by nature who is well endowed with this. For it is what is greatest and most noble, and what we cannot get or learn from another, but must have just such as it was when given us at birth, and to be well and nobly endowed with this will be complete and true natural endowment. If this is true, then, how will excellence be more voluntary than vice? To both men alike, the good and the bad, the end appears and is fixed by nature or however it may be, and it is by referring everything else to this that men do whatever they do. Whether, then, it is not by nature that the end appears to each man such as it does appear, but something also depends on him, or the end is natural but because the good man does the rest voluntarily excellence is voluntary, vice also will be none the less voluntary; for in the case of the bad man there is equally present that which depends on himself in his actions even if not in his end. If, then, as is asserted, the excellences are voluntary (for we are ourselves somehow part-causes of our states of character, and it is by being persons of a certain kind that we assume the end to be so-and-so), the vices also will be voluntary; for the same is true of them. With regard to the excellences in general we have stated their genus in outline, viz. that they are means and th^t they are states, and that they tend by their own nature to the doing of the acts by which they are produced, and that they are in our power and voluntary, and act as right reason prescribes. But actions and states are not voluntary in the same way; for we are masters of our actions from the beginning right to the end, if we know the particular facts, but though we control the beginning of our states the gradual progress is not obvious, any more than it is in illnesses; because it was in our power, however, to act in this way or not in this way, therefore the states are voluntary. Let us take up the several excellences, however, and say which they are and what sort of things they are concerned with and how they are concerned with them; at the same time it will become plain how many they are. And first let us speak of courage.

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That it is a mean with regard to fear and confidence has already been made evident; and plainly the things we fear are terrible things, and these are, to speak without qualification, evils; for which reason people even define fear as expectation of evil. Now we fear all evils, e.g. disgrace, poverty, disease, friendlessness, death, but the brave man is not thought to be concerned with all; for to fear some things is even right and noble, and it is base not to fear them—e.g. disgrace; he who fears this is good and modest, and he who does not is shameless. He is, however, by some people called brave, by an extension of the word; for he has in him something which is like the brave man, since the brave man also is a fearless person. Poverty and disease we perhaps ought not to fear, nor in general the things that do not proceed from vice and are not due to a man himself. But not even the man who is fearless of these is brave. Yet we apply the word to him also in virtue of a similarity; for some who in the dangers of war are cowards are liberal and are confident in face of the loss of money. Nor is a man a coward if he fears insult to his wife and children or envy or anything of the kind; nor brave if he is confident when he is about to be flogged. With what sort of terrible things, then, is the brave man concerned? Surely with the greatest; for no one is more likely than he to stand his ground against what is dreadful. Now death is the most terrible of all things; for it is the end, and nothing is thought to be any longer either good or bad for the dead. But the brave man would not seem to be concerned even with death in all circumstances, e.g. at sea or in disease. In what circumstances, then? Surely in the noblest. Now such deaths are those in battle; for these take place in the greatest and noblest danger. And this agrees with the ways in which honours are bestowed in city-states and at the courts ofmonarchs. Properly, then, he will be called brave who is fearless in face of a noble death, and of all emergencies that involve death; and the emergencies of war are in the highest degree of this kind. Yet at sea also, and in disease, the brave man is fearless, but not in the same way as the seamen; for he has given up hope for safety, and is disliking the thought of death in this shape, while they are hopeful because of their experience. At the same time, we show courage in situations where there is the opportunity of showing prowess or where death is noble; but in these forms of death neither of these conditions is fulfilled.

Book III, Chapter 7

399

CHAPTER 7 What is terrible is not the same for all men; but we say there are things terrible even beyond human strength. These, then, are terrible to everyone—at least to every sensible man; but the terrible things that are not beyond human strength differ in magnitude and degree, and so too 10 do the things that inspire confidence. Now the brave man is as dauntless as man may be. Therefore, while he will fear even the things that are not beyond human strength, he will fear them as he ought and as reason directs, and he will face them for the sake of what is noble; for this is the end of excellence. But it is possible to fear these more, or less, and again to fear things that are not terrible as if they were. Of the faults that are 15 committed one consists in fearing what one should not, another in fearing as we should not, another in fearing when we should not, and so on; and so too with respect to the things that inspire confidence. The man, then, who faces and who fears the right things and with the right aim, in the right way and at the right time, and who feels confidence under the corresponding conditions, is brave; for the brave man feels and acts according to the merits of the case and in whatever way reason 20 directs. Now the end of every activity is conformity to the corresponding state. This is true, therefore, of the brave man as well as of others. But courage is noble. Therefore the end also is noble; for each thing is defined by its end. Therefore it is for a noble end that the brave man endures and acts as courage directs. Of those who go to excess he who exceeds in fearlessness has no name (we have said previously that many states have no names), but he 25 would be a sort of madman or insensible person if he feared nothing, neither earthquakes nor the waves, as they say the Celts do not; while the man who exceeds in confidence about what really is terrible is rash. The rash man, however, is also thought to be boastful and only a pretender to courage; at all events, as the brave man is with regard to 30 what is terrible, so the rash man wishes to appear; and so he imitates him in situations where he can. Hence also most of them are a mixture of rashness and cowardice; for, while in these situations they display confidence, they do not hold their ground against what is really terrible. The man who exceeds in fear is a coward; for he fears both what he ought not and as he ought not, and all the similar characterizations attach to him. He is lacking also in confidence; but he is more m6" conspicuous for his excess of fear in painful situations. The coward, then, is a despairing sort of person; for he fears everything. The brave

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man, on the other hand, has the opposite disposition; for confidence is the mark of a hopeful disposition. The coward, the rash man, and the brave man, then, are concerned with the same objects but are differently disposed towards them; for the first two exceed and fall short, while the third holds the middle, which is the right, position; and rash men are precipitate, and wish for dangers beforehand but draw back when they are in them, while brave men are keen in the moment of action, but quiet beforehand. As we have said, then, courage is a mean with respect to things that inspire confidence or fear, in the circumstances that have been stated; and it chooses or endures things because it is noble to do so, or because it is base not to do so. But to die to escape from poverty or love or anything painful is not the mark of a brave man, but rather of a coward; for it is softness to fly from what is troublesome, and such a man endures death not because it is noble but to fly from evil. CHAPTER 8

20

Courage, then, is something of this sort, but the name is also applied to five other kinds, (i) First comes political courage; for this is most like true courage. Citizens seem to face dangers because of the penalties imposed by the laws and the reproaches they would otherwise incur, and because of the honours they win by such action; and therefore those peoples seem to be bravest among whom cowards are held in dishonour and brave men in honour. This is the kind of courage that Homer depicts, e.g. in Diomede and in Hector: First will Polydamas be to heap reproach on me then; and

25

For Hector one day 'mid the Trojans shall utter his vaulting harangue: 'Afraid was Tydeides, and fled from my face'

This kind of courage is most like that which we described earlier, because it is due to excellence; for it is due to shame and to desire of a noble object (i.e. honour) and avoidance of disgrace, which is ignoble. 30 One might rank in the same class even those who are compelled by their rulers; but they are inferior, inasmuch as they act not from shame but from fear, and to avoid not what is disgraceful but what is painful; for their masters compel them, as Hector does:

Book III, Chapter 8 But if I shall spy any dastard that cowers far from the fight, Vainly will such an one hope to escape from the dogs.

401 35

And those who give them their posts, and beat them if they retreat, do the same, and so do those who draw them up with trenches or something 11 i6b of the sort behind them; all of these apply compulsion. But one ought to be brave not under compulsion but because it is noble to be so. (2) Experience with regard to particular facts is also thought to be courage; this is indeed the reason why Socrates thought courage was 5 knowledge. Other people exhibit this quality in other dangers, and soldiers exhibit it in the dangers of war; for there seem to be many empty alarms in war, of which these have had the most comprehensive experience; therefore they seem brave, because the others do not know the nature of the facts. Again, their experience make them most capable of doing without being done to, since they can use their arms and have the 10 kind that are likely to be best both for doing and for not being done to; therefore they fight like armed men against unarmed or like trained athletes against amateurs; for in such contests too it is not the bravest men that fight best, but those who are strongest and have their bodies in the best condition. Soldiers turn cowards, however, when the danger 15 puts too great a strain on them and they are inferior in numbers and equipment; for they are the first to fly, while citizen-forces die at their posts, as in fact happened at the temple of Hermes. For to the latter flight is disgraceful and death is preferable to safety on those terms; 20 while the former from the very beginning faced the danger on the assumption that they were stronger, and when they know the facts they fly, fearing death more than disgrace; but the brave man is not that sort of person. (3) Passion also is sometimes reckoned as courage; those who act from passion, like wild beasts rushing at those who have wounded them, 25 are thought to be brave, because brave men also are passionate; for passion above all things is eager to rush on danger, and hence Homer's 'put strength into his passion' and 'aroused their spirit and passion' and 'bitter spirit in his nostrils' and 'his blood boiled'. For all such expressions seem to indicate the stirring and onset of passion. Now 30 brave men act for the sake of the noble, but passion aids them; while wild beasts act under the influence of pain; for they attack because they have been wounded or because they are afraid, since if they are in a forest they do not come near one. Thus they are not brave because, driven by pain and passion, they rush on danger without foreseeing any of the perils, 35

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since at that rate even asses would be brave when they are hungry; for blows will not drive them from their food; and lust also makes adulterers do many daring things. The courage that is due to passion seems to be the most natural, and to be courage if choice and aim be added. Men, then, as well as beasts, suffer pain when they are angry, and are pleased when they exact their revenge; those who fight for these reasons, however, are pugnacious but not brave; for they do not act for the sake of the noble nor as reason directs, but from feeling; they have, however, something akin to courage. (4) Nor are sanguine people brave; for they are confident in danger only because they have conquered often and against many foes. Yet they closely resemble brave men, because both are confident; but brave man are confident for the reasons stated earlier, while these are so because they think they are the strongest and can suffer nothing. (Drunken men also behave in this way; they become sanguine.) When their adventures do not succeed, however, they run away; but it was the mark of a brave man to face things that are, and seem, terrible for a man, because it is noble to do so and disgraceful not to do so. Hence also it is thought the mark of a braver man to be fearless and undisturbed in sudden alarms than to be so in those that are foreseen; for it must have proceeded more from a state of character, because less from preparation; for acts that are foreseen may be chosen by calculation and reason, but sudden actions are in accordance with one's state of character. (5) People who are ignorant also appear brave, and they are not far removed from those of a sanguine temper, but are inferior inasmuch as they have no self-reliance while these have. Hence also the sanguine hold their ground for a time; but those who have been deceived fly if they know or suspect that things are different, as happened to the Argives when they fell in with the Spartans and took them for Sicyonians. CHAPTER 9

30

We have, then, described the character both of brave men and of those who are thought to be brave. Though courage is concerned with confidence and fear, ii. is not concerned with both alike, but more with the things that inspire fear; for he who is undisturbed in face of these and bears himself as he should towards these is more truly brave than the man who does so towards the things that inspire confidence. It is for facing what is painful, then, as has been said, that men are called brave. Hence also courage involves

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pain, and is justly praised; for it is harder to face what is painful than to abstain from what is pleasant. Yet the end which courage sets before it would seem to be pleasant, but to be concealed by the attending circum- 1117* stances, as happens also in athletic contests; for the end at which boxers aim is pleasant—the crown and the honours—but the blows they take are distressing to flesh and blood, and painful, and so is their whole exertion; and because the blows and the exertions are many the end, 5 which is but small, appears to have nothing pleasant in it. And so, if the case of courage is similar, death and wounds will be painful to the brave man and against his will, but he will face them because it is noble to do so or because it is base not to do so. And the more he is possessed of excellence in its entirety and the happier he is, the more he will be pained at 10 the thought of death; for life is best worth living for such a man, and he is knowingly losing the greatest goods, and this is painful. But he is none the less brave, and perhaps all the more so, because he chooses noble deeds of war at that cost. It is not the case, then, with all the excellences 15 that the exercise of them is pleasant, except in so far as it reaches its end. But it is quite possible that the best soldiers may be not men of this sort but those who are less brave but have no other good; for these are ready to face danger, and they sell their life for trilling gains. 20 So much, then, for courage; it is not difficult to grasp its nature in outline, at any rate, from what has been said. CHAPTER 10 After courage let us speak of temperance; for these seem to be the excellences of the irrational parts. We have said that temperance is a 25 mean with regard to pleasures (for it is less, and not in the same way, concerned with pains); self-indulgence also is manifested in the same sphere. Now, therefore, let us determine with what sort of pleasures they are concerned. We may assume the distinction between bodily pleasures and those of the soul, such as love of honour and love of learning; for the lover of each of these delights in that of which he is a 30 lover, the body being in no way affected, but rather the mind; but men who are concerned with such pleasures are called neither temperate nor self-indulgent. Nor, again, are those who are concerned with the other pleasures that are not bodily; for those who are fond of hearing and telling stories and who spend their days on anything that turns up are called gossips, but not self-indulgent, nor are those who are pained at the loss of money or of friends. mg*

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Temperance must be concerned with bodily pleasures, but not all even of these; for those who delight in objects of vision, such as colours and shapes and painting, are called neither temperate nor selfindulgent; yet it would seem possible to delight even in these either as one should or to excess or to a deficient degree. And so too is it with objects or heaing; no one calls those who delight extravagantly in music or acting self-indulgent, nor those who do so as they ought temperate. Nor do we apply these names to those who delight in odour, unless it be incidentally; we do not call those self-indulgent who delight in the odour of apples or roses or incense, but rather those who delight in the odour of unguents or of dainty dishes; for self-indulgent people delight in these because these remind them of the objects of their appetite. And one may see even other people, when they are hungry, delighting in the smell of food; but to delight in this kind of thing is the mark of the selfindulgent man; for these are objects of appetite to him. Nor is there in animals other than man any pleasure connected with these senses except incidentally. For dogs do not delight in the scent of hares, but in the eating of them, but the scent told them the hares were there; nor does the lion delight in the lowing of the ox, but in eating it; but he perceived by the lowing that it was near, and therefore appears to delight in the lowing; and similarly he does not delight because he sees a stag or a wild goat, but because he is going to make a meal of it. Temperance and self-indulgence, however, are concerned with the kind of pleasures that the other animals share in, which therefore appear slavish and brutish; these are touch and taste. But even of taste they appear to make little or no use; for the business of taste is the discriminating of flavours, which is done by wine-tasters and people who season dishes; but they hardly take pleasure in making these discriminations, or at least self-indulgent people do not, but in the actual enjoyment, which in all cases comes through touch, both in the case of food and in that of drink and in that of sexual intercourse. This is why a certain gourmand prayed that his throat might become longer than a crane's, implying that it was the contact that he took pleasure in. Thus the sense with which self-indulgence is connected is the most widely shared of the senses; and self-indulgence would seem to be justly a matter of reproach, because it attaches to us not as men but as animals. To delight in such things, then, and to love them above all others, is brutish. For even of the pleasures of touch the most liberal have been eliminated, e.g. those produced in the gymnasium by rubbing and by the

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consequent heat; for the contact characteristic of the self-indulgent man does not affect the whole body but only certain parts. CHAPTER

II

Of the appetites some seem to be common, others to be peculiar to individuals and acquired; e.g. the appetite for food is natural, since everyone who is without it craves for food or drink, and sometimes for io both, and for love also (as Homer says) if he is young and lusty; but not everyone craves for this or that kind of nourishment or love, nor for the same things. Hence such craving appears to be our very own. Yet it has of course something natural about it; for different things are pleasant to different kinds of people, and some things are more pleasant to everyone than chance objects. Now in the natural appetites few go 15 wrong, and only in one direction, that of excess; for to eat or drink whatever offers itself till one is surfeited is to exceed the natural amount, since natural appetite is the replenishment of one's deficiency. Hence these people are called belly-gods, this implying that they fill their belly beyond what is right. It is people of entirely slavish character that 20 become like this. But with regard to the pleasures peculiar to individuals many people go wrong and in many ways. For while the people who are fond of so and so are so called because they delight either in the wrong things, or more than most people do, or in the wrong way, the self-indulgent exceed in all three ways; they both delight in some things that they ought not to delight in (since they are hateful), and if one ought 25 to delight in some of the things they delight in, they do so more than one ought and more than most men do. Plainly, then, excess with regard to pleasures is self-indulgence and is culpable; with regard to pains one is not, as in the case of courage, called temperate for facing them or self-indulgent for not doing so, but the 30 self-indulgent man is so called because he is pained more than he ought to be at not getting pleasant things (even his pain being caused by pleasure), and the temperate man is so called because he is not pained at the absence of what is pleasant and at his abstinence from it. The self-indulgent man, then, craves for all pleasant things or those 1119* that are most pleasant, and is led by his appetite to choose these at the cost of everything else; hence he is pained both when he fails to get them and when he is craving for them (for appetite involves pain); but it seems 5 absurd to be pained for the sake of pleasure. People who fall short with regard to pleasures and delight in them less than they should are hardly

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found; for such insensibility is not human. Even the other animals distinguish different kinds of food and enjoy some and not others; and if there is anyone who finds nothing pleasant and nothing more attractive than anything else, he must be something quite different from a man; this sort of person has not received a name because he hardly occurs. The temperate man occupies a middle position with regard to these objects. For he neither enjoys the things that the self-indulgent man enjoys most—but rather dislikes them—nor in general the things that he should not, nor anything of this sort to excess, nor does he feel pain or craving when they are absent, or does so only to a moderate degree, and not more than he should, nor when he should not, and so on; but the things that, being pleasant, make for health or for good condition, he will desire moderately and as he should, and also other pleasant things if they are not hindrances to these ends, or contrary to what is noble, or beyond his means. For he who neglects these conditions loves such pleasures more than they are worth, but the temperate man is not that sort of person, but the sort of person that right reason prescribes. C H A P T E R 12

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Self-indulgence is more like a voluntary state than cowardice. For the former is actuated by pleasure, the latter by pain, of which the one is to be chosen and the other to be avoided; and pain upsets and destroys the nature of the person who feels it, while pleasure does nothing of the sort. Therefore self-indulgence is more voluntary. Hence also it is more a matter of reproach; for it is easier to become accustomed to its objects, since there are many things of this sort in life, and the process of habituation to them is free from danger, while with terrible objects the reverse is the case. But cowardice would seem to be voluntary in a different degree from its particular manifestations; for it is itself painless, but in these we are upset by pain, so that we even throw down our arms and disgrace ourselves in other ways; hence our acts are even thought to be done under compulsion. For the self-indulgent man, on the other hand, the particular acts are voluntary (for he does them with craving and desire), but the whole state is less so; for no one craves to be self-indulgent. The name self-indulgence is applied also to childish faults; for they bear a certain resemblance to what we have been considering. Which is called after which makes no difference to our present purpose; plainly, however, the later is called after the earlier. The transference of the

Book III, Chapter 12 and Book V, Chapter i

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name seems not a bad one; for that which desires what is base and which develops quickly ought to be kept in a chastened condition,5 and these characteristics belong above all to appetite and to the child, since 5 children in fact live at the beck and call of appetite, and it is in them that the desire for what is pleasant is strongest. If, then, it is not going to be obedient and subject to the ruling principle, it will go to great lengths; for in an irrational being the desire for pleasure is insatiable and tries every source of gratification, and the exercise of appetite increases its innate force, and if appetites are strong and violent they even expel the power of calculation. Hence they should be moderate and few, and 10 should in no way oppose reason—and this is what we call an obedient and chastened state—and as the child should live according to the direction of his tutor, so the appetitive element should live according to reason. Hence the appetitive element in a temperate man should harmonize with reason; for the noble is the mark at which both aim, and 15 the temperate man craves for the things he ought, as he ought, and when he ought; and this is what reason directs. Here we conclude our account of temperance.

BOOK V CHAPTER I

With regard to justice and injustice we must consider what kind of 1129* actions they are concerned with, what sort of mean justice is, and between what extremes the just act is intermediate. Our investigation 5 shall follow the same course as the preceding discussions. We see that all men mean by justice that kind of state which makes people disposed to do what is just and makes them act justly and wish for i o what is just; and similarly by injustice that state which makes them act unjustly and wish for what is unjust. Let us too, then, first lay this down as a rough sketch. For the same is not true of the sciences and the faculties as of states. For it seems that the same faculty or science deals with contraries; but a state of character which is one of two contraries does not produce the contrary results; e.g. as a result of health we do not do what is the opposite of healthy, but only what is healthy; for we say a 15 man walks healthily, when he walks as a healthy man would. 5

The Greek word for 'self-indulgent' is connected with that for 'chasten', 'punish'.

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Now often one contrary state is recognized from its contrary, and often states are recognized from the subjects that exhibit them; for if good condition is known, bad condition also becomes known, and good condition is known from the things that are in good condition, and they from it. If good condition is firmness of flesh, it is necessary both that bad condition should be flabbiness of flesh and that the wholesome should be that which causes firmness in flesh. And it follows for the most part that if one contrary is ambiguous the other also will be ambiguous; e.g. if'just' is so, that 'unjust' will be so too. Now 'justice' and 'injustice' seem to be ambiguous, but because the homonymy is close, it escapes notice and is not obvious as it is, comparatively, when the meanings are far apart, e.g. (for here the difference in outward form is great) as the homonymy in the use of kleis for the collar-bone of an animal and for that with which we lock a door. Let us then ascertain the different ways in which a man may be said to be unjust. Both the lawless man and the grasping and unequal man are thought to be unjust, so that evidently both the law-abiding and the equal man will be just. The just, then, is the lawful and the equal, the unjust the unlawful and the unequal. Since the unjust man is grasping, he must be concerned with goods— not all goods, but those with which prosperity and adversity have to do, which taken absolutely are always good, but for a particular person are not always good. (Men pray for and pursue the same things; but they should not, but should pray that the things that are good absolutely may also be good for them, and should choose the things that are good for them.) The unjust man does not always choose the greater, but also the less—in the case of things bad absolutely; but because the lesser evil is itself thought to be in a sense good, and graspingness is directed at the good, therefore he is thought to be grasping. And he is unequal; for this contains and is common to both. Since the lawless man was seen to be unjust and the law-abiding man just, evidently all lawful acts are in a sense just acts; for the acts laid down by the legislative art are lawful, and each of these, we say, is just. Now the laws in their enactments on all subjects aim at the common advantage either of all or of the best or of those who hold power, or something of the sort; so that in one sense we call those acts just that tend to produce and preserve happiness and its components for the political society. And the law bids us do both the acts of a brave man (e.g. not to desert our post or take to flight or throw away our arms), and those of a temperate man (e.g. not to commit adultery or outrage), and those of

Book V, Chapters 1—2

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a good-tempered man (e.g. not to strike another or speak evil), and similarly with regard to the other excellences and forms of wickedness, commanding some acts and forbidding others; and the rightly-framed 25 law does this rightly, and the hastily conceived one less well. This form of justice, then is complete excellence—not absolutely, but in relation to others. And therefore justice is often thought to be the greatest of excellences and 'neither evening nor morning star' is so wonderful; and proverbially 'in justice is every excellence comprehended'. And it is complete excellence in its fullest sense, because it is 30 the actual exercise of complete excellence. It is complete because he who possesses it can exercise his excellence towards others too and not merely by himself; for many men can exercise excellence in their own affairs, but not in their relations to others. This is why the saying of 1130* Bias is thought to be true, that 'rule will show the man'; for a ruler is necessarily in relation to other men and a member of a society. For this same reason justice, alone of the excellences, is thought to be another's good, because it is related to others; for it does what is advantageous to another, either a ruler or a partner. Now the worst man is he who 5 exercises his wickedness both towards himself and towards his friends, and the best man is not he who exercises his excellence towards himself but he who exercises it towards another; for this is a difficult task. Justice in this sense, then, is not part of excellence but excellence entire, nor is the contrary injustice a part of vice but vice entire. What the difference is to between excellence and justice in this sense is plain from what we have said; they are the same but being them is not the same; what, as a relation to others, is justice is, as a certain kind of state without qualification, excellence. CHAPTER 2

But at all events what we are investigating is the justice which is a pan of excellence; for there is a justice of this kind, as we maintain. Similarly it is with injustice in the particular sense that we are concerned. That there is such a thing is indicated by the fact that while the man who exhibits in action the other forms of wickedness acts unjustly but not graspingly (e.g. the man who throws away his shield through cowardice or speaks harshly through bad temper or fails to help a friend with money through meanness), when a man acts graspingly he often exhibits none of these vices,—no, nor all together, but certainly wickedr ness of some kind (for we blame him) and injustice. There is, then,

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another kind of injustice which is a part of injustice in the wide sense, and something unjust which answers to a part of what is unjust in the wide sense of contrary to the law. Again, if one man commits adultery for the sake of gain and makes money by it, while another does so at the bidding of appetite though he loses money and is penalized for it, the latter would be held to be self-indulgent rather than grasping while the former is unjust, but not self-indulgent; evidently, therefore, he is unjust by reason of his making gain by his act. Again, all other unjust acts are ascribed invariably to some particular kind of wickedness, e.g. adultery to self-indulgence, the desertion of a comrade in battle to cowardice, physical violence to anger; but if a man makes gain, his action is ascribed to no form of wickedness but injustice. Evidently, therefore, there is apart from injustice in the wide sense another, particular, injustice which shares the name and nature of the first, because its definition falls within the same genus; for the force of both lies in a relation to others but the one is concerned with honour or money or safety—or that which includes all these, if we had a single name for it—and its motive is the pleasure that arises from gain; while the other is concerned with all the objects with which the good man is concerned. It is clear, then, that there is more than one kind of justice, and that there is one which is distinct from excellence entire; we must try to grasp what and what sort of thing it is. The unjust has been divided into the unlawful and the unequal, and the just into the lawful and the equal. To the unlawful answers the aforementioned sort of injustice. But since the unequal and the unlawful are not the same, but are different as a part is from its whole (for all that is unequal is unlawful, but not all that is unlawful is unequal), the unjust and injustice are not the same as but different from the former kind, as part from whole; for injustice in this sense is a part of injustice in the wide sense, and similarly justice in the one sense of justice in the other. Therefore we must speak also about particular justice and particular injustice, and similarly about the just and the unjust. The justice, then, which answers to the whole of excellence and the corresponding injustice, one being the exercise of excellence as a whole, and the other that of vice as a whole towards others, we may leave on one side. And how the just and the unjust which answer to these are to be distinguished is evident; for practically the majority of the acts commanded by the law are those which are prescribed from the point of view of excellence taken as a whole; for the law bids us practise every

Book V, Chapter 2 and Chapter $

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excellence and forbids us to practise any vice. And the things that tend 25 to produce excellence taken as a whole are those of the acts prescribed with a view to education for the common good. But with regard to the education of the individual as such, which makes him without qualification a good man, we must determine later whether this is the function of the political art or of another; for perhaps it is not the same in every case to be a good man and a good citizen. Of particular justice and that which is just in the corresponding 30 sense, one kind is that which is manifested in distributions of honour or money or the other things that fall to be divided among those who have a share in the constitution (for in these it is possible for one man to have a share either unequal or equal to that of another), and another kind is that which plays a rectifying part in transactions. Of this there are two 1131" divisions; of transactions some are voluntary and others involuntaryvoluntary such transactions as sale, purchase, usury, pledging, lending, depositing, letting (they are called voluntary because the origin of these 5 transactions is voluntary), while of the involuntary some are clandestine, such as theft, adultery, poisoning, procuring, enticement of slaves, assassination, false witness, and others are violent, such as assault, imprisonment, murder, robbery with violence, mutilation, abuse, insult. CHAPTER 5 We have now defined the unjust and the just. These having been marked off from each other, it is plain that just action is intermediate between acting unjustly and being justly treated; for the one is to have too much and the other to have too little. Justice is a kind of mean, but not in the same way as the other excellences, but because it relates to an intermediate amount, while injustice relates to the extremes. And justice is that in virtue of which the just man is said to be a doer, by choice, of that which is just, and one who will distribute either between himself and another or between two others not so as to give more of what is desirable to himself and less to his neighbour (and conversely with what is harmful), but so as to give what is equal in accordance with proportion; and similarly in distributing between two other persons. Injustice on the other hand is similarly related to the unjust, which is excess and defect, contrary to proportion, of the useful or hurtful. For which reason injustice is excess and defect, viz. because it is productive of excess and defect—in one's own case excess of what is in its own

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nature useful and defect of what is hurtful, while in the case of others it is as a whole like what it is in one's own case, but proportion may be violated in either direction. In the unjust act to have too little is to be unjustly treated; to have too much is to act unjustly. Let this be taken as our account of the nature of justice and injustice, and similarly of the just and the unjust in general. CHAPTER 7

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Of political justice part is natural, part legal,—natural, that which everywhere has the same force and does not exist by people's thinking this or that; legal, that which is originally indifferent, but when it has been laid down is not indifferent, e.g. that a prisoner's ransom shall be a mina, or that a goat and not two sheep shall be sacrificed, and again all the laws that are passed for particular cases, e.g. that sacrifice shall be made in honour of Brasidas, and the provisions of decrees. Now some think that all justice is of this sort, because that which is by nature is unchangeable and has everywhere the same force (as fire burns both here and in Persia), while they see change in the things recognized as just. This, however, is not true in this unqualified way, but is true in a sense; or rather, with the gods it is perhaps not true at all, while with us there is something that is just even by nature, yet all of it changeable; but still some is by nature, some not by nature. It is evident which sort of thing, among things capable of being otherwise, is by nature, and which is not but is legal and conventional, assuming that both are equally changeable. And in all other things the same distinction will apply; by nature the right hand is stronger, yet it is possible that all men should come to be ambidextrous. The things which are just by virtue of convention and expediency are like measures; for wine and corn measures are not everywhere equal, but larger in wholesale and smaller in retail markets. Similarly, the things which are just not by nature but by human enactment are not everywhere the same, since constitutions also are not the same, though there is but one which is everywhere by nature the best.

CHAPTER 8

15

Acts just and unjust being as we have described them, a man acts unjustly or justly whenever he does such acts voluntarily; when involuntarily, he acts neither unjustly nor justly except in an incidental

Book V, ChapterS

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way; for he does things which happen to be just or unjust. Whether an act is or is not one of injustice (or of justice) is determined by its voluntariness or involuntariness; for when it is voluntary it is blamed, and at the same time is then an act of injustice; so that there will be things that are unjust but not yet acts of injustice, if voluntariness be not present as well. By the voluntary I mean, as has been said before, any of the things in a man's own power which he does with knowledge, i.e. not in ignorance either of the person acted on or of the instrument used or of the end that will be attained (e.g. whom he is striking, with what, and to what end), each such act being done not incidentally nor under compulsion (e.g. if you take my hand and strike someone else with it, I do not act voluntarily; for the act was not in my power). The person struck may be the striker's father, and the striker may know that it is a man or one of the persons present, but not know that it is his father; a similar distinction may be made in the case of the end, and with regard to the whole action. Therefore that which is done in ignorance, or though not done in ignorance is not in the agent's power, or is done under compulsion, is involuntary (for many natural processes, also, we knowingly both perform and experience, none of which is either voluntary or involuntary; e.g. growing old or dying). But in the case of unjust and just acts alike the injustice or justice may be only incidental; for a man might return a deposit unwillingly and from fear, and then he must not be said either to do what is just or to act justly, except in an incidental way. Similarly the man who under compulsion and unwillingly fails to return the deposit must be said to act unjustly, and to do what is unjust, only incidentally. Of voluntary acts we do some by choice, others not by choice; by choice those which we do after deliberation, not by choice those which we do without previous deliberation. Thus there are three kinds of injury in transactions; those done in ignorance are mistakes when the person acted on, the act, the instrument, or the end is other than the agent supposed; the agent thought either that he was not hitting any one or that he was not hitting with this missile or not hitting this person or to this end, but a result followed other than that which he thought likely (e.g. he threw not with intent to wound but only to prick), or the person hit or the missile was other than he supposed. Now when the injury takes place contrary to reasonable expectation, it is a misadventure. When it is not contrary to reasonable expectation but does not imply vice, it is a mistake (for a man makes a mistake when the ignorance originates in him, but is the victim of accident when its origin lies outside him). When he acts with

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knowledge but not after deliberation, it is an aft of injustice—e.g. the acts due to anger or to other passions necessary or natural to man; for when men do such harmful and mistaken acts they act unjustly, and the acts are acts of injustice, but this does not imply that the doers are unjust or wicked; for the injury is not due to vice. But when a man acts from choice, he is an unjust man and a vicious man. Hence acts proceeding from anger are rightly judged not to be done of malice aforethought; for it is not the man who acts in anger but he who enraged him that starts the mischief. Again, the matter in dispute is not whether the thing happened or not, but its justice; for it is apparent injustice that occasions anger. For they do not dispute the occurrence of the act—as in commercial transactions where one of the two parties must be vicious—unless they do so owing to forgetfulness; but, agreeing about the fact, they dispute on which side justice lies (whereas a man who has deliberately injured another cannot help knowing that he has done so), so that the one thinks he is being treated unjustly and the other disagrees. But if a man harms another by choice, he acts unjustly; and these are the acts of injustice which imply that the doer is an unjust man, provided that the act violates proportion or equality. Similarly, a man is just when he acts justly by choice; but he acts justly if he merely acts voluntarily. Of involuntary acts some are forgivable, others not. For the mistakes which men make not only in ignorance but also from ignorance are forgivable, while those which men do not from ignorance but (though they do them in ignorance) owing to a passion which is neither natural nor such as man is liable to, are not forgivable. CHAPTER 9

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Men think that acting unjustly is in their power, and therefore that being just is easy. But it is not; to lie with one's neighbour's wife, to wound another, to deliver a bribe, is easy and in our power, but to do these things as a result of a certain state of character is neither easy nor in our power. Similarly to know what is just and what is unjust requires, men think, no great wisdom, because it is not hard to understand the matters dealt with by the laws (though these are not the things that are just, except incidentally); but how actions must be done and distributions effected in order to be just, to know this is a greater achievement than knowing what is good for the health; though even there, while it is easy to know that honey, wine, hellebore, cautery, and the use of the knife are

Book V, Chapters 9—10

415

so, to know how, to whom, and when they should be applied with a view 15 to producing health, is no less an achievement than that of being a physician. Again, for this reason men think that acting unjustly is characteristic of the just man no less than of the unjust, because he would be not less but even more capable of doing each of these acts; for he could lie with a woman or wound a neighbour; and the brave man 20 could throw away his shield and turn to flight in this direction or in that. But to play the coward or to act unjustly consists not in doing these things, except incidentally, but in doing them as the result of a certain state of character, just as to practise medicine and to heal consists not in applying or not applying the knife, in using or not using medicines, but 25 in doing so in a certain way.

C H A P T E R 10 Our next subject is equity and the equitable, and their respective 30 relations to justice and the just. For on examination they appear to be neither absolutely the same nor genetically different; and while we sometimes praise what is equitable and the equitable man (so that we apply the name by way of praise even to instances of the other virtues, instead of 'good', meaning by 'more equitable' that a thing is better), at 1137*' other times, when we reason it out, it seems strange if the equitable, being something different from the just, is yet praiseworthy; for either the just or the equitable is not good, if they are different; or, if both are 5 good, they are the same. These, then, are pretty much the considerations that give rise to the problem about the equitable; they are all in a sense correct and not opposed to one another; for the equitable, though it is better than one kind of justice, yet is just, and it is not as being a different class of thing that it is better than the just. The same thing, then, is just and equitable, and while both are good the equitable is superior. What creates the 10 problem is that the equitable is just, but not the legally just but a correction oflegal justice. The reason is that all law is universal but about some things it is not possible to make a universal statement which will be correct. In those cases, then, in which it is necessary to speak universally, but not possible to do so correctly, the law takes the usual case, 15 though it is not ignorant of the possibility of error. And it is none the less correct; for the error is not in the law nor in the legislator but in the nature of the thing, since the matter of practical affairs is of this kind

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from the start. When the law speaks universally, then, and a case arises on it which is not covered by the universal statement, then it is right, when the legislator fails us and has erred by over-simplicity, to correct the omission—to say what the legislator himself would have said had he been present, and would have put into his law if he had known. Hence the equitable is just, and better than one kind of justice—not better than absolute justice but better than the error that arises from the absoluteness of the statement. And this is the nature of the equitable, a correction of law where it is defective owing to its universality. In fact this is the reason why all things are not determined by law, viz. that about some things it is impossible to lay down a law, so that a decree is needed. For when the thing is indefinite the rule also is indefinite, like the lead rule used in making the Lesbian moulding; the rule adapts itself to the shape of the stone and is not rigid, and so too the decree is adapted to the facts. It is plain, then, what the equitable is, and that it is just and is better than one kind of justice. It is evident also from this who the equitable man is; the man who chooses and does such acts, and is no stickler for justice in a bad sense but tends to take less than his share though he has the law on his side, is equitable, and this state is equity, which is a sort of justice, and not a different state.

BOOK VI CHAPTER I

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Since we have previously said that one ought to choose that which is intermediate, not the excess nor the defect, and that the intermediate is determined by the dictates of reason, let us discuss this. In all the states we have mentioned, as in all other matters, there is a mark to which the man who possesses reason looks, and heightens or relaxes his activity accordingly, and there is a standard which determines the mean states which we say are intermediate between excess and defect, being in accordance with right reason. But such a statement, though true, is by no means illuminating; for in all other pursuits which are objects of knowledge it is indeed true to say that we must not exert ourselves nor relax our efforts too much or too little, but to an intermediate extent and as right reason dictates; but if a man had only this knowledge he would be none the wiser—e.g. we should not know what sort of medicines to apply to our body if someone were to say 'all

Book VI, Chapters 1—2

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those which the medical art prescribes, and which agree with the practice of one who possesses the art'. Hence it is necessary with regard to the states of the soul also not only that this true statement should be made, but also that it should be determined what right reason is and what is the standard that fixes it. We divided the excellences of the soul and said that some are excellences of character and others of intellect. Now we have discussed the moral excellences; with regard to the others let us express our view as follows, beginning with some remarks about the soul. We said before that there are two parts of the soul—that which possesses reason and that which is irrational; let us now draw a similar distinction within the part which possesses reason. And let it be assumed that there are two parts which possess reason—one by which we contemplate the kind of things whose principles cannot be otherwise, and one by which we contemplate variable things; for where objects differ in kind the part of the soul answering to each of the two is different in kind, since it is in virtue of a certain likeness and kinship with their objects that they have the knowledge they have. Let one of these parts be called the scientific and the other the calculative; for to deliberate and to calculate are the same thing, but no one deliberates about what cannot be otherwise. Therefore the calculative is one part of the faculty which possesses reason. We must, then, learn what is the best state of each of these two parts; for this is the excellence of each.

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The excellence of a thing is relative to its proper function. Now there are three things in the soul which control action and truth—sensation, thought, desire. Of these sensation originates no action; this is plain from the fact that beasts have sensation but no share in action. 20 What affirmation and negation are in thinking, pursuit and avoidance are in desire; so that since moral excellence is a state concerned with choice, and choice is deliberate desire, therefore both the reasoning must be true and the desire right, if the choice is to be good, and the latter must pursue just what the former asserts. Now this kind of 25 intellect and of truth is practical; of the intellect which is contemplative, not practical nor productive, the good and the bad state are truth and falsity (for this is the function of everything intellectual); while of

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the part which is practical and intellectual the good state is truth in agreement with right desire. The origin of action—its efficient, not its final cause—is choice, and that of choice is desire and reasoning with a view to an end. This is why choice cannot exist either without thought and intellect or without a moral state; for good action and its opposite cannot exist without a combination of intellect and character. Intellect itself, however, moves nothing, but only the intellect which aims at an end and is practical; for this rules the productive intellect as well, since every one who makes makes for an end, and that which is made is not an end in the unqualified sense (but only relative to something, i.e. of something)— only that which is done is that; for good action is an end, and desire aims at this. Hence choice is either desiderative thought or intellectual desire, and such an origin of action is a man. (Nothing that is past is an object of choice, for example no one chooses to have sacked Troy; for no one deliberates about the past, but about what is future and contingent, while what is past is not capable of not having taken place; hence Agathon is right in saying For this alone is lacking even to God, To make undone things that have once been done.) The function of both the intellectual parts, then, is truth. Therefore the states that are most strictly those in respect of which each of these parts will reach truth are the excellences of the two parts. CHAPTER 3

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Let us begin, then, from the beginning, and discuss these states once more. Let it be assumed that the states by virtue of which the soul possesses truth by way of affirmation or denial are five in number: art, knowledge, practical wisdom, philosophic wisdom, comprehension;6 for belief and opinion may be mistaken. Now what knowledge is, if we are to speak exactly and not follow mere similarities, is plain from what follows. We all suppose that what we know is not capable of being otherwise; of things capable of being otherwise we do not know, when they have passed outside our observation, whether they exist or not. Therefore the object of knowledge is of necessity. Therefore it is eternal; for things that are of necessity in the unqualified sense are all eternal; and things that are 6

Nous, often rendered by 'intuitive reason'.

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eternal are ungenerated and imperishable. Again, every science is 25 thought to be capable of being taught, and its object of being learned. And all teaching starts from what is already known, as we maintain in the Analytics also; for it proceeds sometimes through induction and sometimes by deduction. Now induction is of first principles and of the universal, and deduction proceeds from universals. There are therefore principles from which deduction proceeds, which are not 30 reached by deduction; it is therefore by induction that they are acquired. Knowledge, then, is a state of capacity to demonstrate, and has the other limiting characteristics which we specify in the Analytics; for it is when a man believes in a certain way and the principles are known to him that he has knowledge, since if they are not better known to him than the conclusion, he will have his knowledge only 35 incidentally. Let this, then, be taken as our account of knowledge. CHAPTER 4 Among things that can be otherwise are included both things made 1140" and things done; making and acting are different (for their nature we treat even the discussions outside our school as reliable); so that the reasoned state of capacity to act is different from the reasoned state of capacity to make. Nor are they included one in the other; for neither is 5 acting making nor is making acting. Now since building is an art and is essentially a reasoned state of capacity to make, and there is neither any art that is not such a state nor any such state that is not an art, an is identical with a state of capacity to make, involving a true course of 10 reasoning. All art is concerned with coming into being, i.e. with contriving and considering how something may come into being which is capable of either being or not being, and whose origin is in the maker and not in the thing made; for art is concerned neither with things that are, or come into being, by necessity, nor with things that do so in accordance with nature (since these have their origin in them- 15 selves). Making and acting being different, art must be a matter of making, not of acting. And in a sense chance and art are concerned with the same objects; as Agathon says, 'art loves chance and chance loves art'. Art, then, as has been said, is a state concerned with making, 20 involving a true course of reasoning, and lack of art on the contrary is a state concerned with making, involving a false course of reasoning; both are concerned with what can be otherwise.

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Regarding practical wisdom we shall get at the truth by considering who are the persons we credit with it. Now it is thought to be a mark of a man of practical wisdom to be able to deliberate well about what is good and expedient for himself, not in some particular respect, e.g. about what sorts of thing conduce to health or to strength, but about what sorts of thing conduce to the good life in general. This is shown by the fact that we credit men with practical wisdom in some particular respect when they have calculated well with a view to some good end which is one of those that are not the object of any art. Thus in general the man who is capable of deliberating has practical wisdom. Now no one deliberates about things that cannot be otherwise nor about things that it is impossible for him to do. Therefore, since knowledge involves demonstration, but there is no demonstration of things whose first principles can be otherwise (for all such things might actually be otherwise), and since it is impossible to deliberate about things that are of necessity, practical wisdom cannot be knowledge or art; not knowledge because that which can be done is capable of being otherwise, not art because action and making are different kinds of thing. It remains, then, that it is a true and reasoned state of capacity to act with regard to the things that are good or bad for man. For while making has an end other than itself, action cannot; for good action itself is its end. It is for this reason that we think Pericles and men like him have practical wisdom, viz. because they can see what is good for themselves and what is good for men in general; we consider that those can do this who are good at managing households or states. (This is why we call temperance by this name; we imply that it preserves one's practical wisdom.7 Now what it preserves is a belief of the kind we have described. For it is not any and every belief that pleasant and painful objects destroy and pervert, e.g. the belief that the triangle has or has not its angles equal to two right angles, but only beliefs about what is to be done. For the principles of the things that are done consist in that for the sake of which they are to be done; but the man who has been ruined by pleasure or pain forthwith fails to see any such principle—to see that for the sake of this or because of this he ought to choose and do whatever he chooses and does; for vice is destructive of the principle.) 7 The Greek word for 'temperance' is connected with the expression translated 'preserving one's practical wisdom'.

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Practical wisdom, then, must be a reasoned and true state of 20 capacity to act with regard to human goods. But further, while there is such a thing as excellence in art, there is no such thing as excellence in practical wisdom; and in art he who errs willingly is preferable, but in practical wisdom, as in the excellences, he is the reverse. Plainly, then, practical wisdom is an excellence and not an art. There being 25 two parts of the soul that possess reason, it must be the excellence of one of the two, i.e. of that part which forms opinions; for opinion is about what can be otherwise, and so is practical wisdom. But yet it is not only a reasoned state; this is shown by the fact that a state of that sort may be forgotten but practical wisdom cannot. 30 CHAPTER 6

Knowledge is belief about things that are universal and necessary, and there are principles of everything that is demonstrated and of all knowledge (for knowledge involves reasoning). This being so, the first principle of what is known cannot be an object of knowledge, of art, or of practical wisdom; for that which can be known can be demonstrated, and art and practical wisdom deal with things that can be otherwise. Nor are these first principles the objects of wisdom, for it is a mark of the wise man to have demonstration about some things. If, then, the states by which we have truth and are never deceived about things that cannot—or can—be otherwise are knowledge, practical wisdom, philosophic wisdom, and comprehension, and it cannot be any of the three (i.e. practical wisdom, scientific knowledge, or philosophic wisdom), the remaining alternative is that it is comprehension that grasps the first principles. CHAPTER 7 Wisdom in the arts we ascribe to their most finished exponents, e.g. to Phidias as a sculptor and to Polyclitus as a maker of statues, and here we mean nothing by wisdom except excellence in art; but we think that some people are wise in general, not in some particular field or in any other limited respect, as Homer says in the Margites, Him did the gods make neither a digger nor yet a ploughman Nor wise in anything else. Therefore wisdom must plainly be the most finished of the forms of knowledge. It follows that the wise man must not only know what

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follows from the first principles, but must also possess truth about the first principles. Therefore wisdom must be comprehension combined with knowledge—knowledge of the highest objects which has received as it were its proper completion. For it would be strange to think that the art of politics, or practical wisdom, is the best knowledge, since man is not the best thing in the world. Now if what is healthy or good is different for men and for fishes, but what is white or straight is always the same, any one would say that what is wise is the same but what is practically wise is different; for it is to that which observes well the various matters concerning itself that one ascribes practical wisdom, and it is to this that one will entrust such matters. This is why we say that some even of the lower animals have practical wisdom, viz. those which are found to have a power of foresight with regard to their own life. It is evident also that wisdom and the art of politics cannot be the same; for if the state of mind concerned with a man's own interests is to be called wisdom, there will be many wisdoms; there will not be one concerned with the good of all animals (any more than there is one art of medicine for all existing things), but a different wisdom about the good of each species. But if the argument be that man is the best of the animals, this makes no difference; for there are other things much more divine in their nature even than man, e.g., most conspicuously, the bodies of which the heavens are framed. From what has been said it is plain, then, that wisdom is knowledge, combined with comprehension, of the things that are highest by nature. This is why we say Anaxagoras, Thales, and men like them have wisdom but not practical wisdom, when we see them ignorant of what is to their own advantage, and why we say that they know things that are remarkable, admirable, difficult, and divine, but useless; viz. because it is not human goods that they seek. Practical wisdom on the other hand is concerned with things human and things about which it is possible to deliberate; for we say this is above all the work of the man of practical wisdom, to deliberate well, but no one deliberates about things that cannot be otherwise, nor about things which have not an end, and that a good that can be brought about by action. The man who is without qualification good at deliberating is the man who is capable of aiming in accordance with calculation at the best for man of things attainable by action. Nor is practical wisdom concerned with universals only—it must also

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recognize the particulars; for it is practical, and practice is concerned with particulars. This is why some who do not know, and especially those who have experience, are more practical than others who know; for if a man knew that light meats are digestible and wholesome, but did not know which sorts of meat are light, he would not produce health, but the man who knows that chicken is wholesome is more 20 likely to produce health. Now practical wisdom is concerned with action; therefore one should have both forms of it, or the latter in preference to the former. Here, too, there must be a controlling kind. CHAPTER 8

Political wisdom and practical wisdom are the same state of mind, but being them is not the same. Of the wisdom concerned with the city, the practical wisdom which plays a controlling part is legislative wisdom, 25 while that which is related to this as particulars to their universal is known by the general name 'political wisdom'; this has to do with action and deliberation, for a decree is a thing to be carried out in the form of an individual act. This is why the exponents of this art are alone said to take part in politics; for these alone do things as manual labourers do things. Practical wisdom also is identified especially with that form of it 30 which is concerned with a man himself—with the individual; and this is known by the general name 'practical wisdom'; of the other kinds one is called household management, another legislation, the third politics, and of the last one part is called deliberative and the other judicial. Now knowing what is good for oneself will be one kind of knowledge, but is very different from the other kinds; and the man who knows and concerns himself with his own interests is thought to 1142' have practical wisdom, while politicians are thought to be busybodies; hence the words of Euripides, But how could I be wise, who might at ease, Numbered among the army's multitude, Have had an equal share?... For those who aim too high and do too much.... Those who think thus seek their own good, and consider that one ought to do so. From this opinion, then, has come the view that such men have practical wisdom; yet perhaps one's own good cannot exist

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without household management, nor without a form of government. Further, how one should order one's affairs is not clear and needs inquiry. What has been said is confimred by the fact that while young men become geometricians and mathematicians and wise in matters like these, it is thought that a young man of practical wisdom cannot be found. The cause is that such wisdom is concerned not only with universals but with particulars, which become familiar from experience, but a young man has no experience, for it is length of time that gives experience; indeed one might ask this question too, why a boy may become a mathematician, but not a wise man or a natural scientist. Is it because the objects of mathematics exist by abstraction, while the first principles of these other subjects come from experience, and because young men have no conviction about the latter but merely use the proper language, while the essence of mathematical objects is plain enough to them? Further, error in deliberation may be either about the universal or about the particular; we may fail to know either that all water that weighs heavy is bad, or that this particular water weighs heavy. That practical wisdom is not knowledge is evident; for it is, as has been said, concerned with the ultimate particular fact, since the thing to be done is of this nature. It is opposed, then, to comprehension; for comprehension is of the definitions, for which no reason can be given, while practical wisdom is concerned with the ultimate particular, which is the object not of knowledge but of perception—not the perception of qualities peculiar to one sense but a perception akin to that by which we perceive that the particular figure before us is a triangle; for in that direction too there will be a limit. But this is rather perception than practical wisdom, though it is another kind of perception. CHAPTER 9

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There is a difference between inquiry and deliberation; for deliberation is a particular kind of inquiry. We must grasp the nature of excellence in deliberation as well—whether it is a form of knowledge, or opinion, or skill in conjecture, or some other kind of thing. It is not knowledge; for men do not inquire about the things they know about, but good deliberation is a kind of deliberation, and he who deliberates inquires and calculates. Nor is it skill in conjecture; for this both

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involves no reasoning and is something that is quick in its operation, while men deliberate a long time, and they say that one should carry out quickly the conclusions of one's deliberation, but should deliberate slowly. Again, readiness of mind is different from excellence 5 in deliberation; it is a sort of skill in conjecture. Nor again is excellence in deliberation opinion of any sort. But since the man who deliberates badly makes a mistake, while he who deliberates well does so correctly, excellence in deliberation is clearly a kind of correctness, but neither of knowledge nor of opinion; for there is no such thing as 10 correctness of knowledge (since there is no such thing as error of knowledge), and correctness of opinion is truth; and at the same time everything that is an object of opinion is already determined. But again excellence in deliberation involves reasoning. The remaining alternative, then, is that it is correctness of thinking; for this is not yet assertion, since, while opinion is not inquiry but already assertion, the man who is deliberating, whether he does so well or ill, is searching for 15 something and calculating. But excellence in deliberation is a certain correctness of deliberation; hence we must first inquire what deliberation is and what it is about. And, there being more than one kind of correctness, plainly excellence in deliberation is not any and every kind; for the incontinent man and the bad man will reach as a result of his calculation what he sets himself to do, so that he will have deliberated correctly, but he will have got for himself a great evil. Now to have deliberated 20 well is thought to be a good thing; for it is this kind of correctness of deliberation that is excellence in deliberation, viz. that which tends to attain what is good. But it is possible to attain even good by a false deduction and to attain what one ought to do but not by the right means, the middle term being false; so that this too is not yet excellence in deliberation—this state in virtue of which one attains what 25 one ought but not by the right means. Again it is possible to attain it by long deliberation while another man attains it quickly. Therefore in the former case we have not yet got excellence in deliberation, which is Tightness with regard to the expedient—rightness in respect both of the conclusion, the manner, and the time. Further it is possible to have deliberated well either in the unqualified sense or with reference to a particular end. Excellence in deliberation in the unqualified sense, 30 then, is that which succeeds with reference to what is the end in the unqualified sense, and excellence in deliberation in a particular sense is that which succeeds relatively to a particular end. If, then, it is

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characteristic of men of practical wisdom to have deliberated well, excellence in deliberation will be correctness with regard to what conduces to the end of which practical wisdom is the true apprehension. C H A P T E R 10

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Understanding, also, and goodness of understanding, in virtue of which men are said to be men of understanding or of good understanding, are neither entirely the same as opinion or knowledge (for at that rate all men would have been men of understanding), nor are they one of the particular sciences, such as medicine, the science of things connected with health, or geometry, the science of spatial magnitudes. For understanding is neither about things that are always and are unchangeable, nor about any and every one of the things that come into being, but about things which may become subjects of questioning and deliberation. Hence it is about the same objects as practical wisdom; but understanding and practical wisdom are not the same. For practical wisdom issues commands, since its end is what ought to be done or not to be done; but understanding only judges. (Understanding is identical with goodness of understanding, men of understanding with men of good understanding.) Now understanding is neither the having nor the acquiring of practical wisdom; but as learning is called understanding when it means the exercise of the faculty of knowledge, so 'understanding' is applicable to the exercise of the faculty of opinion for the purpose of judging of what someone else says about matters with which practical wisdom is concerned— and of judging soundly; for 'well' and 'soundly' are the same thing. And from this has come the use of the name 'understanding' in virtue of which men are said to be of good understanding, viz. from the application of the word to learning; for we often call learning understanding. C H A P T E R II

20

What is called judgement, in virtue of which men are said to be forgiving8 and to have judgement, is the right discrimination of the equitable. This is shown by the fact that we say the equitable man is above all others a man of forgiveness and identify equity with forgive8

The Greek word for 'forgiveness' is cognate with that for 'judgement'.

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ness about certain facts. And forgiveness is judgement which discriminates what is equitable and does so correctly; and correct judgement is that which judges what is true. Now all the states we have considered converge, as might be 25 expected, on the same point; for when we speak of judgement and understanding and practical wisdom and comprehension we credit the same people with possessing judgement and comprehension and with having practical wisdom and understanding. For all these faculties deal with ultimates, i.e. with particulars; and being a man of understanding and of good judgement or of forgiveness consists in 30 being able to judge about the things with which practical wisdom is concerned; for the equities are common to all good men in relation to other men. Now all things which have to be done are included among particulars or ultimates; for not only must the man of practical wisdom know particular facts, but understanding and judgement are also concerned with things to be done, and these are ultimates. And compre- 35 hension is concerned with the ultimates in both directions; for both the primary definitions and the ultimates are objects of comprehension and not of argument, and in demonstrations comprehension ii43b grasps the unchangeable and primary definitions, while in practical reasonings it grasps the last and contingent fact, i.e. the second proposition. For these are the starting-points of that for the sake of which, since the universals are reached from the particulars; of these there- 5 fore we must have perception, and this is comprehension. This is why these states are thought to be natural endowmentswhy, while no one is thought to be wise by nature, people are thought to have by nature judgement, understanding, and comprehension. This is shown by the fact that we think our powers correspond to our time of life, and that a particular age brings with it comprehension and judgement; this implies that nature is the cause. Therefore we ought 10 to attend to the undemonstrated sayings and opinions of experienced and older people or of people of practical wisdom not less than to demonstrations; for because experience has given them an eye they see aright. We have stated, then, what practical wisdom and wisdom are, and 15 with what each of them is concerned, and we have said that each is the excellence of a different part of the soul.

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Difficulties might be raised as to the utility of these qualities of mind. For wisdom will contemplate none of the things that will make a man happy (for it is not concerned with any coming into being), and though practical wisdom has this merit, for what purpose do we need it? Practical wisdom is the quality of mind concerned with things just and noble and good for man, but these are the things which it is the mark of a good man to do, and we are none the more able to act for knowing them if the excellences are states, just as we are none the better able to act for knowing the things that are healthy and sound, in the sense not of producing but of issuing from the state of health; for we are none the more able to act for having the art of medicine or of gymnastics. But if we are to say that it is useful not for the sake of this but for the sake of becoming good, practical wisdom will be of no use to those who are good; but again it is of no use to those who are not, for it will make no difference whether they have practical wisdom themselves or obey others who have it, and it would be enough for us to do what we do in the case of health; though we wish to become healthy, yet we do not learn the art of medicine. Besides this, it would be thought strange if practical wisdom, being inferior to wisdom, is to be put in authority over it, as seems to be implied by the fact that the art which produces anything rules and issues commands about that thing. These, then, are the questions we must discuss; so far we have only stated the difficulties. Now first let us say that in themselves these states must be worthy of choice because they are the excellences of the two parts of the soul respectively, even if neither of them produces anything. Secondly, they do produce something, not as the art of medicine produces health, however, but as health produces health; so does wisdom produce happiness; for, being a part of excellence entire, by being possessed and by actualizing itself it makes a man happy. Again, the function of man is achieved only in accordance with practical wisdom as well as with moral excellence; for excellence makes the aim right, and practical wisdom the things leading to it. (Of the fourth part of the soul—the nutritive—there is no such excellence; for there is nothing which it is in its power to do or not to do.) With regard to our being none the more able to do because of our practical wisdom what is noble and just, let us begin a little further back, starting with the following principle. As we say that some people

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who do just acts are not necessarily just, i.e. those who do the acts ordained by the laws either unwillingly or owing to ignorance or for 15 some other reason and not for the sake of the acts themselves (though, to be sure, they do what they should and all the things that the good man ought), so is it, it seems, that in order to be good one must be in a certain state when one does the several acts, i.e. one must do them as a result of choice and for the sake of the acts themselves. Now excellence makes the choice right, but the question of the things which 20 should naturally be done to carry out our choice belongs not to excellence but to another faculty. We must devote our attention to these matters and give a clearer statement about them. There is a faculty which is called cleverness; and this is such as to be able to do the things that tend towards the mark we have set before ourselves, and to 25 hit it. Now if the mark be noble, the cleverness is laudable, but if the mark be bad, the cleverness is mere villainy; hence we call clever both men of practical wisdom and villains. Practical wisdom is not the faculty, but it does not exist without this faculty. And this eye of the soul acquires its formed state not without the aid of excellence, as has 30 been said and is plain; for inferences which deal with acts to be done are things which involve a starting-point, viz. 'since the end, i.e. what is best, is of such-and-such a nature', whatever it may be (let it for the sake of argument be what we please); and this is not evident except to the good man; for wickedness perverts us and causes us to be deceived 35 about the starting-points of action. Therefore it is evident that it is impossible to be practically wise without being good. C H A P T E R 13

We must therefore consider excellence also once more; for excellence too is similarly related; as practical wisdom is to cleverness—not the same, but like it—so is natural excellence to excellence in the strict sense. For all men think that each type of character belongs to its possessors in some sense by nature; for from the very moment of birth we are just or fitted for self-control or brave or have the other moral qualities; but yet we seek something else as that which is good in the strict sense—we seek for the presence of such qualities in another way. For both children and brutes have the natural dispositions to these qualities, but without thought these are evidently hurtful. Only we seem to see this much, that, while one may be led astray by them, as a strong body which moves without sight may stumble badly because of its lack

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of sight, still, if a man once acquires thought that makes a difference in action; and his state, while still like what it was, will then be excellence in the strict sense. Therefore, as in the part of us which forms opinions there are two types, cleverness and practical wisdom, so too in the moral part there are two types, natural excellence and excellence in the strict sense, and of these the latter involves practical wisdom. This is why some say that all the excellences are forms of practical wisdom, and why Socrates in one respect was on the right track while in another he went astray; in thinking that all the excellences were forms of practical wisdom he was wrong, but in saying they implied practical wisdom he was right. This is confirmed by the fact that even now all men, when they define excellence, after naming the state and its objects add 'that (state) which is in accordance with the right reason'; now the right reason is that which is in accordance with practical wisdom. All men, then, seem somehow to divine that this kind of state is excellence, viz. that which is in accordance with practical wisdom. But we must go a little further. For it is not merely the state in accordance with right reason, but the state that implies the presence of right reason, that is excellence; and practical wisdom is right reason about such matters. Socrates, then, thought the excellences were forms of reason (for he thought they were, all of them, forms of knowledge), while we think they involve reason. It is clear, then, from what has been said, that it is not possible to be good in the strict sense without practical wisdom, nor practically wise without moral excellence. But in this way we may also refute the dialectical argument whereby it might be contended that the excellences exist in separation from each other; the same man, it might be said, is not best equipped by nature for all the excellences, so that he will have already acquired one when he has not yet acquired another. This is possible in respect of the natural excellences, but not in respect of those in respect of which a man is called without qualification good; for with the presence of the one quality, practical wisdom, will be given all the excellences. And it is plain that, even if it were of no practical value, we should have needed it because it is the excellence of the part of us in question; plain too that the choice will not be right without practical wisdom any more than without excellence; for the one determines the end and the other makes us do the things that lead to the end. But again it is not supreme over wisdom, i.e. over the superior part of us, any more than the art of medicine is over health; for it does not use

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it but provides for its coming into being; it issues orders, then, for its sake, but not to it. Further, to maintain its supremacy would be like saying that the art of politics rules the gods because it issues orders about all the affairs of the state.

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Let us now make a fresh beginning and point out that of moral states 15 to be avoided there are three kinds—vice, incontinence, brutishness. The contraries of two of these are evident—one we call excellence, the other continence; to brutishness it would be most fitting to oppose superhuman excellence, something heroic and divine, as Homer has represented Priam saying of Hector that he was very good, 20 For he seemed not, he, The child of a mortal man, but as one that of God's seed came. Therefore if, as they say, men become gods by excess of excellence, of this kind must evidently be the state opposed to the brutish state; for 25 as a brute has no vice or excellence, so neither has a god; his state is higher than excellence, and that of a brute is a different kind of state from vice. Now, since it is rarely that a godlike man is found—to use the epithet of the Spartans, who when they admire any one highly call him a 'godlike man'—so too the brutish type is rarely found among men; it 30 is found chiefly among foreigners, but some brutish qualities are also produced by disease or deformity; and we also call by this evil name those who surpass ordinary men in vice. Of this kind of disposition, however, we must later make some mention, while we have discussed vice before; we must now discuss incontinence and softness (or 3S effeminacy), and continence and endurance; for we must treat each of the two neither as identical with excellence or wickedness, nor as a different genus. We must, as in all other cases, set the phenomena ii45b before us and, after first discussing the difficulties, go on to prove, if possible, the truth of all the reputable opinions about these affections 5 or, failing this, of the greater number and the most authoritative; for if we both resolve the difficulties and leave the reputable opinions undisturbed, we shall have proved the case sufficiently.

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Now both continence and endurance are thought to be included among things good and praiseworthy, and both incontinence and softness among things bad and blameworthy; and the same man is thought to be continent and ready to abide by the result of his calculations, or incontinent and ready to abandon them. And the incontinent man, knowing that what he does is bad, does it as a result of passion, while the continent man, knowing that his appetites are bad, does not follow them because of his reason. The temperate man all men call continent and disposed to endurance, while the continent man some maintain to be always temperate but others do not; and some call the self-indulgent man incontinent and the incontinent man self-indulgent indiscriminately, while others distinguish them. The man of practical wisdom, they sometimes say, cannot be incontinent, while sometimes they say that some who are practically wise and clever are incontinent. Again men are said to be incontinent with respect to anger, honour, and gain.—These, then, are the things that are said. CHAPTER 2

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Now we may ask what kind of right belief is possessed by the man who behaves incontinently. That he should behave so when he has knowledge, some say is impossible; for it would be strange—so Socrates thought—if when knowledge was in a man something else could master it and drag it about like a slave. For Socrates was entirely opposed to the view in question, holding that there is no such thing as incontinence; no one, he said, acts against what he believes bestpeople act so only by reason of ignorance. Now this view contradicts the plain phenomena, and we must inquire about what happens to such a man; if he acts by reason of ignorance, what is the manner of his ignorance? For that the man who behaves incontinently does not, before he gets into this state, think he ought to act so, is evident. But there are some who concede certain of Socrates' contentions but not others; that nothing is stronger than knowledge they admit, but not that no one acts contrary to what has seemed to him the better course, and therefore they say that the incontinent man has not knowledge when he is mastered by his pleasures, but opinion. But if it is opinion and not knowledge, if it is not a strong belief that resists but a weak one, as in men who hesitate, we forgive their failure to stand by such convictions against strong appetites; but we do not forgive wicked-

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ness, nor any of the other blameworthy states. Is it then practical wisdom whose resistance is mastered? That is the strongest of all states. But 5 this is absurd; the same man will be at once practically wise and incontinent, but no one would say that it is the part of a practically wise man to do willingly the basest acts. Besides, it has been shown before that the man of practical wisdom is one who will act (for he is a man concerned with the individual facts) and who has the other excellences. Further, if continence involves having strong and bad appetites, the 10 temperate man will not be continent nor the continent man temperate; for a temperate man will have neither excessive nor bad appetites. But the continent man must; for if the appetites are good, the state that restrains us from following them is bad, so that not all continence will be good; while if they are weak and not bad, there is nothing admirable 15 in resisting them, and if they are weak and bad, there is nothing great in resisting these either. Further, if continence makes a man ready to stand by any and every opinion, it is bad, i.e. if it makes him stand even by a false opinion; and if incontinence makes a man apt to abandon any and every opinion, there will be a good incontinence, of which Sophocles' Neoptolemus in the Philoctetes will be an instance; for he is to be praised for not standing by what Odysseus persuaded him to do, because he is pained 20 at telling a lie. Further, the sophistic argument presents a difficulty; for, because they want to produce paradoxical results to show how clever they are, when they succeed the resulting inference presents a difficulty (for thought is bound fast when it will not rest because the conclusion does not satisfy it, and cannot advance because it cannot refute the 25 argument). There is an argument from which it follows that folly coupled with incontinence is excellence; for a man does the opposite of what he believes owing to incontinence, but believes what is good to be evil and something that he should not do, and in consequence he 30 will do what is good and not what is evil. Further, he who on conviction does and pursues and chooses what is pleasant would be thought to be better than one who does so as a result not of calculation but of incontinence; for he is easier to cure since he may be persuaded to change his mind. But to the incontinent man may be applied the proverb 'when water chokes, what is one to 35 wash it down with?'. If he had been persuaded of the Tightness of what he does, he would have desisted when he was persuaded to change his u$>

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mind; but now he acts in spite of his being persuaded of something quite different. Further, if incontinence and continence are concerned with any and every kind of object, who is it that is incontinent in the unqualified sense? No one has all the forms of incontinence, but we say some people are incontinent without qualification. CHAPTER 3

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Of some such kind are the difficulties that arise; some of these points must be refuted and the others left in possession of the field; for the solution of the difficulty is the discovery of the truth. We must consider first, then, whether incontinent people act knowingly or not, and in what sense knowingly; then with what sorts of object the incontinent and the continent man may be said to be concerned (i.e. whether with any and every pleasure and pain or with certain determinate kinds), and whether the continent man and the man of endurance are the same or different; and similarly with regard to the other matters germane to this inquiry. The starting-point of our investigation is the question whether the continent man and the incontinent are differentiated by their objects or by their attitude, i.e. whether the continent man is incontinent simply by being concerned with such-and-such objects, or, instead, by his attitude, or, instead of that, by both these things; the second question is whether incontinence and continence are concerned with any and every object or not. The man who is incontinent in the unqualified sense is neither concerned with any and every object, but with precisely those with which the self-indulgent man is concerned, nor is he characterized by being simply related to these (for then his state would be the same as self-indulgence), but by being related to them in a certain way. For the one is led on in accordance with his own choice, thinking that he ought always to pursue the present pleasure; while the other does not think so, but yet pursues it. As for the suggestion that it is true opinion and not knowledge against which we act incontinently, that makes no difference to the argument; for some people when in a state of opinion do not hesitate, but think they know exactly. If, then, it is owing to their weak conviction that those who have opinion are more likely to act against their belief than those who know, there will be no difference between knowledge and opinion; for some men are no less convinced of what

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they think than others of what they know; as is shown by the case of Heraclitus. But since we use the word 'know' in two senses (for both the man who has knowledge but is not using it and he who is using it are said to know), it will make a difference whether, when a man does what he should not, he has the knowledge but is not exercising it, or is exercising it; for the latter seems strange, but not the former. Further, since there are two kinds of propositions, there is nothing 1147* to prevent a man's having both and acting against his knowledge, provided that he is using only the universal and not the particular; for it is particular acts that have to be done. And there are also two kinds of universal; one is predicable of the agent, the other of the object; e.g. 'dry food is good for every man', and 'I am a man', or 'such-and-such 5 food is dry'; but whether this food is such-and-such, of this the incontinent man either has not or is not exercising the knowledge. There will, then, be, firstly, an enormous difference between these manners of knowing, so that to know in one way would not seem anything strange, while to know in the other way would be extraordinary. And further the possession of knowledge in another sense than 10 those just named is something that happens to men; for within the case of having knowledge but not using it we see a difference of state, admitting of the possibility of having knowledge in a sense and yet not having it, as in the instance of a man asleep, mad, or drunk. But now this is just the condition of men under the influence of passions; for outbursts of anger and sexual appetites and some other such passions, 15 it is evident, actually alter our bodily condition, and in some men even produce fits of madness. It is plain, then, that incontinent people must be said to be in a similar condition to these. The fact that men use the language that flows from knowledge proves nothing; for even men under the influence of these passions utter scientific proofs and verses of Empedocles, and those who have just begun to learn can string 20 together words, but do not yet know; for it has to become part of themselves, and that takes time; so that we must suppose that the use of language by men in an incontinent state means no more than its utterance by actors on the stage. Again, we may also view the cause as follows with reference to the facts of nature. The one opinion is universal, the other is concerned 25 with the particular facts, and here we come to something within the sphere of perception; when a single opinion results from the two, the soul must in one type of case affirm the conclusion, while in the case of opinions concerned with production it must immediately act (e.g. if

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everything sweet ought to be tasted, and this is sweet, in the sense of being one of the particular sweet things, the man who can act and is not restrained must at the same time actually act accordingly). When, then, the universal opinion is present in us restraining us from tasting, and there is also the opinion that everything sweet is pleasant, and that this is sweet (now this is the opinion that is active), and when appetite happens to be present in us, the one opinion bids us avoid the object, but appetite leads us towards it (for it can move each of our bodily parts); so that it turns out that a man behaves incontinently under the influence (in a sense) of reason and opinion, and of opinion not contrary in itself, but only incidentally—for the appetite is contrary not the opinion—to right reason. It also follows that this is the reason why the lower animals are not incontinent, viz. because they have no universal beliefs but only imagination and memory of particulars. The explanation of how the ignorance is dissolved and the incontinent man regains his knowledge, is the same as in the case of the man drunk or asleep and is not peculiar to this condition; we must go to the students of natural science for it. Now, the last proposition both being an opinion about a perceptible object, and being what determines our actions, this a man either has not when he is in the state of passion, or has it in the sense in which having knowledge did not mean knowing but only talking, as a drunken man may utter the verses of Empedocles. And because the last term is not universal nor equally an object of knowledge with the universal term, the position that Socrates sought to establish actually seems to result; for it is not what is thought to be knowledge proper that the passion overcomes (nor is it this that is dragged about as a result of the passion), but perceptual knowledge. This must suffice as our answer to the question of whether men can act incontinently when they know or not, and in what sense they know. CHAPTER 4

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We must next discuss whether there is any one who is incontinent without qualification, or all men who are incontinent are so in a particular sense, and if so, with what sort of objects. That both continent persons and persons of endurance, and incontinent and soft persons, are concerned with pleasures and pains, is evident. Now of the things that produce pleasure some are necessary, while others are worthy of choice in themselves but admit of excess, the bodily causes of pleasure being necessary (by such I mean both those

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concerned with food and those concerned with sexual intercourse, i.e. the bodily matters with which we defined self-indulgence and temperance as being concerned), while the others are not necessary but worthy of choice in themselves (e.g. victory, honour, wealth, and 30 good and pleasant things of this sort). This being so, those who go to excess with reference to the latter, contrary to the right reason which is in themselves, are not called incontinent simply, but incontinent with the qualification 'in respect of money, gain, honour, or anger',—not simply incontinent, on the ground that they are different from incontinent people and are called incontinent by reason of a resemblance. (Compare the case of Man, who won a contest at the Olympic games; in his case the general formula of man differed little from the 1148" one peculiar to him, but yet it was different.) This is shown by the fact that incontinence, either without qualification or in some particular respect, is blamed not only as a fault but as a kind of vice, while none of these is so blamed. But of the people who are incontinent with respect to bodily enjoy- 5 ments, with which we say the temperate and the self-indulgent man are concerned, he who pursues the excesses of things pleasant—and shuns those of things painful, of hunger and thirst and heat and cold and all the objects of touch and taste—not by choice but contrary to his choice and his judgement, is called incontinent, not with the 10 qualification 'in respect of this or that', e.g. of anger, but without qualification. This is confirmed by the fact that men are called soft with regard to these pleasures, but not with regard to any of the others. And for this reason we group together the incontinent and the selfindulgent, the continent and the temperate man—but not any of these other types—because they are concerned somehow with the same 15 pleasures and pains; but although these are concerned with the same objects, they are not similarly related to them, but some of them choose them while the others do not choose them. This is why we should describe as self-indulgent rather the man who without appetite or with but a slight appetite pursues the excesses and avoids moderate pains, than the man who does so because of his 20 strong appetites; for what would the former do, if he had in addition a vigorous appetite, and a violent pain at the lack of the necessary objects? Now of appetites and pleasures some belong to the class of things generically noble and good—for some pleasant things are by nature worthy of choice—while others are contrary to these, and others are 25

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intermediate, to adopt our previous distinction, e.g. wealth, gain, victory, honour. And with reference to all objects whether of this or of the intermediate kind men are not blamed for being affected by them, for desiring and loving them, but for doing so in a certain way, i.e. for going to excess. (This is why all those who contrary to reason either are mastered by or pursue one of the objects which are naturally noble and good, e.g. those who busy themselves more than they ought about honour or about children and parents—for these too are goods, and those who busy themselves about them are praised; but yet there is an excess even in them—if like Niobe one were to fight even against the gods, or were to be as much devoted to one's father as Satyrus nicknamed 'the filial', who was thought to be very silly on this point.) There is no wickedness, then, with regard to these objects, for the reason named, viz. because each of them is by nature a thing worthy of choice for its own sake; yet excesses in respect of them are bad and to be avoided. Similarly there is no incontinence with regard to them; for incontinence is not only to be avoided but is also a thing worthy of blame; but owing to a similarity in the passion people apply the name incontinence, adding in each case what it is in respect of, as we may describe as a bad doctor or a bad actor one whom we should not call bad, simply. As, then, in this case we do not apply the term without qualification because each of these conditions is not badness but only analogous to it, so it is clear that in the other case also that alone must be taken to be incontinence and continence which is concerned with the same objects as temperance and self-indulgence, but we apply the term to anger by virtue of a resemblance; and this is why we say with a qualification 'incontinent in respect of anger' as we say 'incontinent in respect of honour, or of gain'. CHAPTER 5

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Some things are pleasant by nature, and of these some are so without qualification, and others are so with reference to particular classes either of animals or of men; while others are not pleasant by nature, but some of them become so by reason of deformities, and others by reason of habits, and others by reason of bad natures. This being so it is possible with regard to each of the latter kinds to discover similar states; I mean the brutish states, as in the case of the female who, they say, rips open pregnant women and devours the infants, or of the things in which some of the tribes about the Black Sea that have gone

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savage are said to delight—in raw meat or in human flesh, or in lending their children to one another to feast upon—or of the story of Phalaris. These states are brutish, but others arise as a result of disease (or, in 25 some cases, of madness, as with the man who sacrificed and ate his mother, or with the slave who ate the liver of his fellow), and others are morbid states resulting from custom, e.g. the habit of plucking out the hair or of gnawing the nails, or even coals or earth, and in addition to these paederasty; for these arise in some by nature and in others, as in those who have been the victims of lust from childhood, from habit. 30 Now those in whom nature is the cause of such a state no one would call incontinent, any more than one would apply the epithet to women because of the passive part they play in copulation; nor would one apply it to those who are in a morbid condition as a result of habit. To have these various types of habit is beyond the limits of vice, as bullishness is too; for a man who has them to master or be mastered by 1149" them is not simply incontinence but that which is so by analogy, as the man who is in this condition in respect of fits of anger is to be called incontinent in respect of that feeling, but not incontinent. For every excessive state whether of folly, of cowardice, of self- 5 indulgence, or of bad temper, is either brutish or morbid; the man who is by nature apt to fear everything, even the squeak of a mouse, is cowardly with a brutish cowardice, while the man who feared a weasel did so in consequence of disease; and of foolish people those who by nature are thoughtless and live by their senses alone are brutish, like 10 some races of distant foreigners, while those who are so as a result of disease (e.g. of epilepsy) or of madness are morbid. Of these characteristics it is possible to have some only at times, and not to be mastered by them, e.g. Phalaris may have restrained a desire to eat the flesh of a child or an appetite for unnatural sexual pleasure; but it is also possible to be mastered, not merely to have the feelings. Thus, as 15 the wickedness which is on the human level is called wickedness simply, while that which is not is called wickedness not simply but with the qualification 'brutish' or 'morbid', in the same way it is plain that some incontinence is brutish and some morbid, while only that which corresponds to human self-indulgence is incontinence simply. 20 That incontinence and continence, then, are concerned only with the same objects as self-indulgence and temperance, and that what is concerned with other objects is a type distinct from incontinence, and called incontinence by a metaphor and not simply, is plain.

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That incontinence in respect of anger is less disgraceful than that in respect of the appetites is what we will now proceed to see. Anger seems to listen to reason to some extent, but to mishear it, as do hasty servants who run out before they have heard the whole of what one says, and then muddle the order, or as dogs bark if there is but a knock at the door, before looking to see if it is a friend; so anger by reason of the warmth and hastiness of its nature, though it hears, does not hear an order, and springs to take revenge. For reason or imagination informs us that we have been insulted or slighted, and anger, reasoning as it were that anything like this must be fought against, boils up straightway; while appetite, if reason or perception merely says that an object is pleasant, springs to the enjoyment of it. Therefore anger obeys reason in a sense, but appetite does not. It is therefore more disgraceful; for the man who is incontinent in respect of anger is in a sense conquered by reason, while the other is conquered by appetite and not by reason. Further, we forgive people more easily for following natural desires, since we forgive them more easily for following such appetites as are common to all men, and in so far as they are common; now anger and bad temper are more natural than the appetites for excess, i.e. for unnecessary objects. Take for instance the man who defended himself on the charge of striking his father by saying 'yes, but he struck his father, and he struck his, and' (pointing to his child) 'this boy will strike me when he is a man; it runs in the family'; or the man who when he was being dragged along by his son bade him stop at the doorway, since he himself had dragged his father only as far as that. Further, those who are more given to plotting against others are more unjust. Now a passionate man is not given to plotting, nor is anger itself—it is open; but the nature of appetite is illustrated by what the poets call Aphrodite, 'guile-weaving daughter of Cyprus', and by Homer's words about her 'embroidered girdle': And the whisper of wooing is there, Whose subtlety stealeth the wits of the wise, how prudent soe'er.

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Therefore if this form of incontinence is more unjust and disgraceful than that in respect of anger, it is both incontinence without qualification and in a sense vice. Further, no one commits wanton outrage with a feeling of pain, but

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every one who acts in anger acts with pain, while the man who commits outrage acts with pleasure. If, then, those acts at which it is most just to be angry are more unjust, the incontinence which is due to ap^ :tite is the more unjust; for there is no wanton outrage involved in anger. Plainly, then, the incontinence concerned with appetite is more disgraceful than that concerned with anger, and continence and 25 incontinence are concerned with bodily appetites and pleasures; but we must grasp the differences among the latter themselves. For, as has been said at the beginning, some are human and natural both in kind and in magnitude, others are brutish, and others are due to deformities and diseases. Only with the first of these are temperance and self- 30 indulgence concerned; this is why we call the lower animals neither temperate nor self-indulgent except by a metaphor, and only if some one kind of animals exceeds another as a whole in wantonness, destructiveness, and omnivorous greed; these have no power of choice or calculation, but they are departures from what is natural as, among men, madmen are. Now brutishness is less evil than vice, though more 1150* alarming; for it is not that the better part has been perverted, as in man,—they have no better part. Thus it is like comparing a lifeless thing with a living in respect of badness; for the badness of that which 5 has no source of movement is always less hurtful, and thought is a source. Thus it is like comparing injustice with an unjust man. Each is in some sense worse; for a bad man will do ten thousand times as much evil as a brute. CHAPTER 7

With regard to the pleasures and pains and appetites and aversions arising through touch and taste, to which both self-indulgence and 10 temperance were formerly narrowed down, it is possible to be in such a state as to be defeated even by those of them which most people master, or to master even those by which most people are defeated; among these possibilities, those relating to pleasures are incontinence and continence, those relating to pains softness and endurance. The state of most people is intermediate, even if they lean more towards 15 the worse states. Now, since some pleasures are necessary while others are not, and are necessary up to a point while the excesses of them are not, nor the deficiencies, and this is equally true of appetites and pains, the man

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who pursues the excesses of things pleasant, or pursues to excess necessary objects, and does so by choice, for their own sake and not at all for the sake of any result distinct from them, is self-indulgent; for such a man is of necessity without regrets, and therefore incurable, since a man without regrets cannot be cured. The man who is deficient is the opposite; the man who is intermediate is temperate. Similarly, there is the man who avoids bodily pains not because he is defeated by them but by choice. (Of those who do not choose such acts, one kind of man is led to them as a result of the pleasure involved, another because he avoids the pain arising from the appetite, so that these types differ from one another. Now anyone would think worse of a man if with no appetite or with weak appetite he were to do something disgraceful, than if he did it under the influence of powerful appetite, and worse of him if he struck a blow not in anger than if he did it in anger; for what would he have done if he had been strongly affected? This is why the self-indulgent man is worse than the incontinent.) Of the states named, then, the latter is rather a kind of softness; the former is self-indulgence. While to the incontinent man is opposed the continent, to the soft is opposed the man of endurance; for endurance consists in resisting, while continence consists in conquering, and resisting and conquering are different, as not being beaten is different from winning; this is why continence is also more worthy of choice than endurance. Now the man who is defective in respect of resistance to the things which most men both resist and resist successfully is soft and effeminate; for effeminacy too is a kind of softness; such a man trails his cloak to avoid the pain of lifting it, and plays the invalid without thinking himself wretched, though the man he imitates is a wretched man. The case is similar with regard to continence and incontinence. For if a man is defeated by violent and excessive pleasures or pains, there is nothing wonderful in that; indeed we are ready to forgive him if he has resisted, as Theodectes' Philoctetes does when bitten by the snake, or Carcinus' Cercyon in the Alope, and as people who try to restrain their laughter burst out in a guffaw, as happened to Xenophantus. But it is surprising if a man is defeated by and cannot resist pleasures or pains which most men can hold out against, when this is not due to heredity or disease, like the softness that is hereditary with the kings of the Scythians, or that which distinguishes the female sex from the male. The lover of amusement, too, is thought to be self-indulgent, but is

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really soft. For amusement is a relaxation, since it is a rest; and the lover of amusement is one of the people who go to excess in this. Of incontinence one kind is impetuosity, another weakness. For some men after deliberating fail, owing to their passion, to stand by 20 the conclusions of their deliberation, others because they have not deliberated are led by their passion; since some men (just as people who first tickle others are not tickled themselves), if they have first perceived and seen what is coming and have first roused themselves and their calculative faculty, are not defeated by their passion, whether it be pleasant or painful. It is keen and excitable people that 25 suffer especially from the impetuous form of incontinence; for the former because of their quickness and the latter because of the violence of their passions do not wait on reason, because they are apt to follow their imagination. CHAPTER 8

The self-indulgent man, as was said, has no regrets; for he stands by his choice; but any incontinent man is subject to regrets. This is why 30 the position is not as it was expressed in the formulation of the problem, but the self-indulgent man is incurable and the incontinent man curable; for wickedness is like a disease such as dropsy or consumption, while incontinence is like epilepsy; the former is a permanent, the latter an intermittent badness. And generally in- 35 continence and vice are different in kind; vice is unconscious of itself, incontinence is not (of incontinent men themselves, those who become beside themselves are better than those who possess reason 1151* but do not abide by it, since the latter are defeated by a weaker passion, and do not act without previous deliberation like the others); for the incontinent man is like the people who get drunk quickly and on little wine, i.e. on less than most people. 5 Evidently, then, incontinence is not vice (though perhaps it is so in a qualified sense); for incontinence is contrary to choice while vice is in accordance with choice; not but what they are similar in respect of the actions they lead to; as in the saying of Demodocus about the Milesians, 'the Milesians are not without sense, but they do the things that senseless people do', so too incontinent people are not unjust but 10 they will do unjust acts. Now, since the incontinent man is apt to pursue, not on conviction, bodily pleasures that are excessive and contrary to right reason, while

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the self-indulgent man is convinced because he is the sort of man to pursue them, it is on the contrary the former that is easily persuaded to change his mind, while the latter is not. For excellence and vice respectively preserve and destroy the first principle, and in actions that for the sake of which is the first principle, as the hypotheses are in mathematics; neither in that case is it reason that teaches the first principles, nor is it so here—excellence either natural or produced by habituation is what teaches right opinion about the first principle. Such a man as this, then, is temperate; his contrary is the selfindulgent. But there is a sort of man who is carried away as a result of passion and contrary to right reason—a man whom passion masters so that he does not act according to right reason, but does not master to the extent of making him ready to believe that he ought to pursue such pleasures without reserve; this is the incontinent man, who is better than the self-indulgent man, and not bad without qualification; for the best thing in him, the first principle, is preserved. And contrary to him is another kind of man, he who abides by his convictions and is not carried away, at least as a result of passion. It is evident from these considerations that the latter is a good state and the former a bad one. CHAPTER 9

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Is the man continent who abides by any and every reasoning and any and every choice, or the man who abides by the right choice, and is he incontinent who abandons any and every choice and any and every reasoning, or he who abandons the reasoning that is not false and the choice that is right? This is how we put it before in our statement of the problem. Or is it incidentally any and every choice but perse the true reasoning and the right choice by which the one abides and the other does not? If any one chooses or pursues this for the sake of that, perse he pursues and chooses the latter, but incidentally the former. But when we speak without qualification we mean what is perse. Therefore in a sense the one abides by, and the other abandons, any and every opinion; but without qualification, the true opinion. There are some who are apt to abide by their opinion, who are called strong-headed, viz. those who are hard to persuade and are not easily persuaded to change; these have in them something like the continent man, as the prodigal is in a way like the liberal man and the rash man like the confident man; but they are different in many

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respects. For it is to passion and appetite that the one will not yield, since on occasion the continent man mil be easy to persuade; but it is 10 to reason that the others refuse to yield, for they do form appetites and many of them are led by their pleasures. Now the people who are strong-headed are the opinionated, the ignorant, and the boorish— the opinionated being influenced by pleasure and pain; for they delight in the victory they gain if they are not persuaded to change, and are pained if their decisions become null and void as decrees 15 sometimes do; so that they are more like the incontinent than the continent man. But there are some who fail to abide by their resolutions, not as a result of incontinence, e.g. Neoptolemus in Sophocles' Philoctetes; yet it was for the sake of pleasure that he did not stand fast—but a noble pleasure; for telling the truth was noble to him, but he had been persuaded by Odysseus to tell the lie. For not every one who does 20 anything for the sake of pleasure is either self-indulgent or bad or incontinent, but he who does it for a disgraceful pleasure. Since there is also a sort of man who takes less delight than he should in bodily things, and does not abide by reason, he who is intermediate between him and the incontinent man is the continent man; for the incontinent man fails to abide by reason because he 25 delights too much in them, and this man because he delights in them too little; while the continent man abides by it and does not change on either account. Now if continence is good, both the contrary states must be bad, as they actually appear to be; but because the other 30 extreme is seen in few people and seldom, as temperance is thought to be contrary only to self-indulgence, so is continence to incontinence. Since many names are applied analogically, it is by analogy that we have come to speak of the continence of the temperate man; for both the continent man and the temperate man are such as to do nothing contrary to reason for the sake of the bodily pleasures, but the former has and the latter has not bad appetites, and the latter is such as not to n^' feel pleasure contrary to reason, while the former is such as to feel pleasure but not to be led by it. And the incontinent and the selfindulgent man are also like one another; they are different, but both s pursue bodily pleasures—the latter, however, also thinking that he ought to do so, while the former does not think this.

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Nor can the same man have practical wisdom and be incontinent; for it has been shown that a man is at the same time practically wise, and good in respect of character. Further, a man has practical wisdom not by knowing only but by acting; but the incontinent man is unable to act—there is, however, nothing to prevent a clever man from being incontinent; this is why it is sometimes actually thought that some people have practical wisdom but are incontinent, viz. because cleverness and practical wisdom differ in the way we have described in our first discussions, and are near together in respect of their reasoning, but differ in respect of their choice—nor yet is the incontinent man like the man who knows and is contemplating a truth, but like the man who is asleep or drunk. And he acts voluntarily (for he acts in a sense with knowledge both of what he does and of that for the sake of which he does it), but is not wicked since his choice is good; so that he is halfwicked. And he is not unjust; for he does not act of malice aforethought; of the two types of incontinent man the one does not abide by the conclusions of his deliberation, while the excitable man does not deliberate at all. And thus the incontinent man is like a city which passes all the right decrees and has good laws, but makes no use of them, as in Anaxandrides' jesting remark, The city willed it, that cares nought for laws;

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but the wicked man is like a city that uses its laws, but has wicked laws to use. Now incontinence and continence are concerned with that which is in excess of the state characteristic of most men; for the continent man abides by his resolutions more and the incontinent man less than most men can. Of the forms of incontinence, that of excitable people is more curable than that of those who deliberate but do not abide by their decisions, and those who are incontinent through habituation are more curable than those in whom incontinence is innate; for it is easier to change a habit than to change one's nature; even habit is hard to change just because it is like nature, as Evenus says: I say that habit's but long practice, friend, And this becomes men's nature in the end. We have now stated what continence, incontinence, endurance, and softness are, and how these states are related to each other.

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CHAPTER II

The study of pleasure and pain belongs to the province of the political 1152*" philosopher; for he is the architect of the end, with a view to which we call one thing bad and another good without qualification. Further, it is one of our necessary tasks to consider them; for not only did we lay it 5 down that moral excellence and vice are concerned with pains and pleasures, but most people say that happiness involves pleasure; this is why the blessed man is called by a name derived from a word meaning enjoyment. Now some people think that no pleasure is a good, either in itself or incidentally, since the good and pleasure are not the same; others 10 think that some pleasures are good but that most are bad. Again there is a third view, that even if all pleasures are goods, yet the best thing cannot be pleasure. The reasons given for the view that pleasure is not a good at all are (a) that every pleasure is a perceptible process to a natural state, and that no process is of the same kind as its end, e.g. no process of building is of the same kind as a house, (b) A temperate man 15 avoids pleasures, (c) A man of practical wisdom pursues what is free from pain, not what is pleasant, (d) The pleasures are a hindrance to thought, and the more so the more one delights in them, e.g. in sexual pleasure; for no one could think of anything while absorbed in this, (e) There is no art of pleasure; but every good is the product of some art. (/") Children and the brutes pursue pleasures. The reasons for the view 20 that not all pleasures are good are that (a) there are pleasures that are actually base and objects of reproach, and (b) there are harmful pleasures; for some pleasant things are unhealthy. The reason for the view that the best thing is not pleasure is that pleasure is not an end but a process. C H A P T E R 12

These are pretty much the things that are said. That it does not follow from these grounds that pleasure is not a good, or even the chief good, 25 is plain from the following considerations. First, since that which is good may be so in either of two senses (one thing good simply and another good for a particular person), natural constitutions and states, and therefore also movements and processes, will be correspondingly divisible. Of those which are thought to be bad some will be bad without qualification but not bad for a particular person, but worthy of 30

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his choice, and some will not be worthy of choice even for a particular person, but only at a particular time and for a short period, though not without qualification; while others are not even pleasures, but seem to be so, viz. all those which involve pain and whose end is curative, e.g. the processes that go on in sick persons. Further, one kind of good being activity and another being state, the processes that restore us to our natural state are only incidentally pleasant; for that matter the activity at work in the appetites for them is the activity of so much of our state and nature as has remained unimpaired; for there are actually pleasures that involve no pain or appetite (e.g. those of contemplation), the nature in such a case not being defective at all. That the others are incidental is indicated by the fact that men do not enjoy the same things when their nature is in its settled state as they do when it is being replenished, but in the former case they enjoy the things that are pleasant without qualification, in the latter the contraries of these as well; for then they enjoy even sharp and bitter things, none of which is pleasant either by nature or without qualification. Nor, then, are the pleasures; for as pleasant things differ, so do the pleasures arising from them. Again, it is not necessary that there should be something else better than pleasure, as some say the end is better than the process; for pleasures are not processes nor do they all involve process—they are activities and ends; nor do they arise when we are becoming something, but when we are exercising some faculty; and not all pleasures have an end different from themselves, but only the pleasures of persons who are being led to the completing of their nature. This is why it is not right to say that pleasure is a perceptible process, but it should rather be called activity of the natural state, and instead of 'perceptible' 'unimpeded'. It is thought to be a process just because they think it is in the strict sense good; for they think that activity is a process, which it is not. The view that pleasures are bad because some pleasant things are unhealthy is like saying that healthy things are bad because some healthy things are bad for the pocket; both are bad in the respect mentioned, but they are not bad for that reason—indeed, contemplation itself is sometimes injurious to health. Neither practical wisdom nor any state is impeded by the pleasure arising from it; it is foreign pleasures that impede, for the pleasures arising from contemplation and learning will make us contemplate and learn all the more.

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The fact that no pleasure is the product of any art arises naturally enough; there is no art of any other activity either, but only of the 25 capacity; though for that matter the arts of the perfumer and the cook are thought to be arts of pleasure. The arguments that the temperate man avoids pleasure and that the man of practical wisdom pursues the painless life, and that children and the brutes pursue pleasure, are all refuted by the same consideration. We have pointed out in what sense pleasures are good without qualification and in what sense some are not good; now both the 30 brutes and children pursue pleasures of the latter kind (and the man of practical wisdom pursues tranquil freedom from that kind), viz. those which imply appetite and pain, i.e. the bodily pleasures (for it is these that are of this nature) and the excesses of them, in respect of which the self-indulgent man is self-indulgent. This is why the temperate 35 man avoids these pleasures; for even he has pleasures of his own. C H A P T E R 13

But further it is agreed that pain is bad and to be avoided; for some iiS3b pain is without qualification bad, and other pain is bad because it is in some respect an impediment to us. Now the contrary of that which is to be avoided, qua something to be avoided and bad, is good. Pleasure, then, is necessarily a good. For the answer of Speusippus, that pleasure is contrary both to pain and to good, as the greater is contrary both to the less and to the equal, is not successful; since he would not 5 say that pleasure is essentially a species of evil. And if certain pleasures are bad, that does not prevent the best thing from being some pleasure—just as knowledge might be, though certain kinds of knowledge are bad. Perhaps it is even necessary, if each state has unimpeded activities, that whether the activity (if 10 unimpeded) of all our states or that of some one of them is happiness, this should be the thing most worthy of our choice; and this activity is a pleasure. Thus the chief good would be some pleasure, though most pleasures might perhaps be bad without qualification. And for this reason all men think that the happy life is pleasant and weave pleasure into happiness—and reasonably too; for no activity is complete when 15 it is impeded, and happiness is a complete thing; this is why the happy man needs the goods of the body and external goods, i.e. those of fortune, viz. in order that he may not be impeded in these ways. Those who say that the victim on the rack or the man who falls into great

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misfortunes is happy if he is good, are, whether they mean to or not, talking nonsense. Now because we need fortune as well as other things, some people think good fortune the same thing as happiness; but it is not that, for even good fortune itself when in excess is an impediment, and perhaps should then be no longer called good fortune; for its limit is fixed by reference to happiness. And indeed the fact that all things, both brutes and men, pursue pleasure is an indication of its being somehow the chief good: No voice is wholly lost that many peoples....

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But since no one nature or. state either is or is thought the best for all, neither do all pursue the same pleasure; yet all pursue pleasure. And perhaps they actually pursue not the pleasure they think they pursue nor that which they would say they pursue, but the same pleasure; for all things have by nature something divine in them. But the bodily pleasures have appropriated the name both because we oftenest steer our course for them and because all men share in them; thus because they alone are familiar, men think there are no others. It is evident also that if pleasure and activity is not a good, it will not be the case that the happy man lives a pleasant life; for to what end should he need pleasure, if it is not a good but the happy man may even live a painful life? For pain is neither an evil nor a good, if pleasure is not; why then should he avoid it? Therefore, too, the life of the good man will not be pleasanter than that of anyone else, if his activities are not more pleasant. C H A P T E R 14

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With regard to the bodily pleasures, those who say that some pleasures are very much to be chosen, viz. the noble pleasures, but not the bodily pleasures, i.e. those with which the self-indulgent man is concerned, must consider why, then, the contrary pains are bad. For the contrary of bad is good. Are the necessary pleasures good in the sense in which even that which is not bad is good? Or are they good up to a point? Is it that where you have states and processes of which there cannot be too much, there cannot be too much of the corresponding pleasure, and that where there can be too much of the one there can be too much of the other also? Now there can be too much of bodily goods, and the bad man is bad by virtue of pursuing the excess, not by virtue of pursuing the necessary pleasures (for all men enjoy in some way or

Book VII, Chapter 14

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other both dainty foods and wines and sexual intercourse, but not all men do so as they ought). The contrary is the case with pain; for he does not avoid the excess of it, he avoids it altogether; for the alterna- 20 tive to excess of pleasure is not pain, except to the man who pursues this excess. Since we should state not only the truth, but also the cause of error—for this contributes towards producing conviction, since when a reasonable explanation is given of why the false view appears true, 25 this tends to produce belief in the true view—therefore we must state why the bodily pleasures appear the more worthy of choice. Firstly, then, it is because they expel pain; owing to the excesses of pain men pursue excessive and in general bodily pleasure as being a cure for the pain. Now curative agencies produce intense feeling—which is the 30 reason why they are pursued—because they show up against the contrary pain. (Indeed pleasure is thought not to be good for these two reasons, as has been said, viz. that some of them are activities belonging to a bad nature—either congenital, as in the case of a brute, or due to habit, i.e. those of bad men; while others are meant to cure a defective nature, and it is better to be in a healthy state than to be getting into it, but these arise during the process of being made complete and H54b are therefore only incidentally good.) Further, they are pursued because of their violence by those who cannot enjoy other pleasures. At all events some people manufacture thirsts for themselves. When these are harmless, the practice is irreproachable; when they are hurtful, it is bad. For they have nothing else to enjoy, and, besides, a 5 neutral state is painful to many people because of their nature. For animals are always toiling, as the students of natural science also testify, saying that sight and hearing are painful; but we have become used to this, as they maintain. Similarly, while, in youth, people are, owing to the growth that is going on, in a situation like that of drunken i 0 men, and youth is pleasant, on the other hand people of excitable nature always need relief; for even their body is ever in torment owing to its special composition, and they are always under the influence of violent desire; but pain is driven out both by the contrary pleasure, and by any chance pleasure if it be strong; and for these reasons they become self-indulgent and bad. But the pleasures that do not involve 15 pains do not admit of excess; and these are among the things pleasant by nature and not incidentally. By things pleasant incidentally I mean those that act as cures (for because as a result people are cured, through some action of the part that remains healthy, for this reason

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the process is thought pleasant); things naturally pleasant are those that stimulate the action of the healthy nature. There is no one thing that is always pleasant, because our nature is not simple but there is another element in us as well, inasmuch as we are perishable creatures, so that if the one element does something, this is unnatural to the other nature, and when the two elements are evenly balanced, what is done seems neither painful nor pleasant; for if the nature of anything were simple, the same action would always be most pleasant to it. This is why God always enjoys a single and simple pleasure; for there is not only an activity of movement but an activity of immobility, and pleasure is found more in rest than in movement. But 'change in all things is sweet', as the poet says, because of some vice; for as it is the vicious man that is changeable, so the nature that needs change is vicious; for it is not simple nor good. We have now discussed continence and incontinence, and pleasure and pain, both what each is and in what sense some of them are good and others bad; it remains to speak of friendship.

BOOK IX CHAPTER 4

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Friendly relations with one's neighbours, and the marks by which friendships are defined, seem to have proceeded from a man's relations to himself. For men think a friend is one who wishes and does what is good, or seems so, for the sake of his friend, or one who wishes his friend to exist and live, for his sake; which mothers do to their children, and friends do who have come into conflict. And others think a friend is one who lives with and has the same tastes as another, or one who grieves and rejoices with his friend; and this too is found in mothers most of all. It is by some one of these characteristics that friendship too is defined. Now each of these is true of the good man's relation to himself (and of all other men in so far as they think themselves good; excellence and the good man seem, as has been said, to be the measure of every class of things). For his opinions are harmonious, and he desires the same things with all his soul; and therefore he wishes for himself what is good and what seems so, and does it (for it is characteristic of the good man to exert himself for the good), and does so for his own sake (for he

BooklX, Chapter4

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does it for the sake of the intellectual element in him, which is thought to be the man himself); and he wishes himself to live and be preserved, and especially the element by virtue of which he thinks. For existence is good to the good man, and each man wishes himself what is good, while no one chooses to possess the whole world if he has first to become someone else (for that matter, even now God possesses the good); he wishes for this only on condition of being whatever he is; and the element that thinks would seem to be the individual man, or to be so more than any other element in him. And such a man wishes to live with himself; for he does so with pleasure, since the memories of his past acts are delightful and his hopes for the future are good, and therefore pleasant. His mind is well stored too with subjects of contemplation. And he grieves and rejoices, more than any other, with himself; for the same thing is always painful, and the same thing always pleasant, and not one thing at one time and another at another; he has, so to speak, nothing to regret. Therefore, since each of these characteristics belongs to the good man in relation to himself, and he is related to his friend as to himself (for his friend is another self), friendship too is thought to be one of these attributes, and those who have these attributes to be friends. Whether there is or is not friendship between a man and himself is a question we may dismiss for the present; there would seem to be friendship in so far as he is two or more, to judge from what has been said, and from the fact that the extreme of friendship is likened to one's love for oneself. But the attributes named seem to belong even to the majority of men, poor creatures though they may be. Are we to say then that in so far as they are satisfied with themselves and think they are good, they share in these attributes? Certainly no one who is thoroughly bad and impious has these attributes, or even seems to do so. They hardly belong even to inferior people; for they are at variance with themselves, and have appetites for some things and wishes for others. This is true, for instance, of incontinent people; for they choose, instead of the things they themselves think good, things that are pleasant but hurtful; while others again, through cowardice and laziness, shrink from doing what they think best for themselves. And those who have done many terrible deeds and are hated for their wickedness even shrink from life and destroy themselves. And wicked men seek for people with whom to spend their days, and shun themselves; for they remember many a grievous deed, and anticipate others like them,

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when they are by themselves, but when they are with others they forget. And having nothing lovable in them they have no feeling of love to themselves. Therefore also such men do not rejoice or grieve with themselves; for their soul is rent by faction, and one element in it by reason of its wickedness grieves when it abstains from certain acts, while the other part is pleased, and one draws them this way and the other that, as if they were pulling them in pieces. If a man cannot at the same time be pained and pleased, at all events after a short time he is pained because he was pleased, and he could have wished that these things had not been pleasant to him; for bad men are laden with regrets. Therefore the bad man does not seem to be amicably disposed even to himself, because there is nothing in him to love; so that if to be thus is the height of wretchedness, we should strain every nerve to avoid wickedness and should endeavour to be good; for so one may be both friendly to oneself and a friend to another. CHAPTER 8

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The question is also debated, whether a man should love himself most, or some one else. People criticize those who love themselves most, and call them self-lovers, using this as an epithet of disgrace, and a bad man seems to do everything for his own sake, and the more so the more wicked he is—and so men reproach him, for instance, with doing nothing of his own accord—while the good man acts for honour's sake, and the more so the better he is, and acts for his friend's sake, and sacrifices his own interest. But the facts clash with these arguments, and this is not surprising. For men say that one ought to love best one's best friend, and a man's best friend is one who wishes well to the object of his wish for his sake, even if no one is to know of it; and these attributes are found most of all in a man's attitude towards himself, and so are all the other attributes by which a friend is defined; for, as we have said, it is from this relation that all the characteristics of friendship have extended to others. All the proverbs, too, agree with this, e.g. 'a single soul', and 'what friends have is common property', and 'friendship is equality', and 'charity begins at home'; for all these marks will be found most in a man's relation to himself; he is his own best friend and therefore ought to love himself best. It is therefore a reasonable question, which of the two views we should follow; for both are plausible.

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Perhaps we ought to mark off such arguments from each other and determine how far and in what respects each view is right. Now if we grasp the sense in which each parry uses the phrase 'lover of self, the truth may become evident. Those who use the term as one of reproach ascribe self-love to people who assign to themselves the greater share 15 of wealth, honours, and bodily pleasures; for these are what most people desire, and busy themselves about as though they were the best of all things, which is the reason, too, why they become objects of competition. So those who are grasping with regard to these things gratify their appetites and in general their feelings and the irrational element of the soul; and most men are of this nature (thus the epithet 20 has taken its meaning from the prevailing type of self-love, which is a bad one); it is just, therefore, that men who are lovers of self in this way are reproached for being so. That it is those who give themselves the preference in regard to objects of this sort that most people usually call lovers of self is plain; for if a man were always anxious that he himself, above all things, should act justly, temperately, or in accord- 25 ance with any other of the excellences, and in general were always to try to secure for himself the honourable course, no one will call such a man a lover of self or blame him. But such a man would seem more than the other a lover of self; at all events he assigns to himself the things that are noblest and best, and 30 gratifies the most authoritative element in himself and in all things obeys this; and just as a city or any other systematic whole is most properly identified with the most authoritative element in it, so is a man; and therefore the man who loves this and gratifies it is most of all a lover of self. Besides, a man is said to have or not to have self-control according as his intellect has or has not the control, on the assumption that this is the man himself; and the things men have done from reason are thought most properly their own acts and voluntary acts. That this 1169* is the man himself, then, or is so more than anything else, is plain, and also that the good man loves most this part of him. Whence it follows that he is most truly a lover of self, of another type than that which is a matter of reproach, and as different from that as living according to reason is from living as passion dictates, and desiring what is noble 5 from desiring what seems advantageous. Those, then, who busy themselves in an exceptional degree with noble actions all men approve and praise; and if all were to strive towards what is noble and strain every nerve to do the noblest deeds, everything would be as it should be for the common good, and every one would secure for i 0

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himself the goods that are greatest, since excellence is the greatest of goods. Therefore the good man should be a lover of self (for he will both himself profit by doing noble acts, and will benefit his fellows), but the wicked man should not; for he will hurt both himself and his neighbours, following as he does evil passions. For the wicked man, what he does clashes with what he ought to do, but what the good man ought to do he does; for the intellect always chooses what is best for itself, and the good man obeys his intellect. It is true of the good man too that he does many acts for the sake of his friends and his country, and if necessary dies for them; for he will throw away both wealth and honours and in general the goods that are objects of competition, gaining for himself nobility; since he would prefer a short period of intense pleasure to a long one of mild enjoyment, a twelvemonth of noble life to many years of humdrum existence, and one great and noble action to many trivial ones. Now those who die for others doubtless attain this result; it is therefore a great prize that they choose for themselves. They will throw away wealth too on condition that their friends will gain more; for while a man's friend gains wealth he himself achieves nobility; he is therefore assigning the greater good to himself. The same too is true of honour and office; all these things he will sacrifice to his friend; for this is noble and laudable for himself. Rightly then is he thought to be good, since he chooses nobility before all else. But he may even give up actions to his friend; it may be nobler to become the cause of his friend's acting than to act himself. In all the actions, therefore, that men are praised for, the good man is seen to assign to himself the greater share in what is noble. In this sense, then, as has been said, a man should be a lover of self; but in the sense in which most men are so, he ought not. CHAPTER 9

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It is also disputed whether the happy man will need friends or not. It is said that those who are blessed and self-sufficient have no need of friends; for they have the things that are good, and therefore being self-sufficient they need nothing further, while a friend, being another self, furnishes what a man cannot provide by his own effort; whence the saying 'when fortune is kind, what need of friends?' But it seems strange, when one assigns all good things to the happy man, not to assign friends, who are thought the greatest of external goods. And if it

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is more characteristic of a friend to do well by another than to be well done by, and to confer benefits is characteristic of the good man and of excellence, and it is nobler to do well by friends than by strangers, the good man will need people to do well by. This is why the question is asked whether we need friends more in prosperity or in adversity, on the assumption that not only does a man in adversity need people to confer benefits on him, but also those who are prospering need people to do well by. Surely it is strange, too, to make the blessed man a solitary; for no one would choose to possess all good things on condition of being alone, since man is a political creature and one whose nature is to live with others. Therefore even the happy man lives with others; for he has the things that are by nature good. And plainly it is better to spend his days with friends and good men than with strangers or any chance persons. Therefore the happy man needs friends. What then is it that the first party means, and in what respect is it right? Is it that most men identify friends with useful people? Of such friends indeed the blessed man will have no need, since he already has the things that are good; nor will he need those whom one makes one's friends because of their pleasantness, or he will need them only to a small extent (for his life, being pleasant, has no need of adventitious pleasure); and because he does not need such friends he is thought not to need friends. But that is surely not true. For we have said at the outset that happiness is an activity; and activity plainly comes into being and is not present at the start like a piece of property. If happiness lies in living and being active, and the good man's activity is virtuous and pleasant in itself, as we have said at the outset, and if a thing's being one's own is one of the attributes that make it pleasant, and if we can contemplate our neighbours better than ourselves and their actions better than our own, and if the actions of virtuous men who are their friends are pleasant to good men (since these have both the attributes that are naturally pleasant)—if this be so, the blessed man will need friends of this sort, since he chooses to contemplate worthy actions and actions that are his own, and the actions of a good man who is his friend have both these qualities. Further, men think that the happy man ought to live pleasantly. Now if he were a solitary, life would be hard for him; for by oneself it is not easy to be continuously active; but with others and towards others it is easier. With others therefore his activity will be more continuous,

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being in itself pleasant, as it ought to be for the man who is blessed; for a good man qua good delights in excellent actions and is vexed at vicious ones, as a musical man enjoys beautiful tunes but is pained at bad ones. A certain training in excellence arises also from the company of the good, as Theognis remarks. If we look deeper into the nature of things, a virtuous friend seems to be naturally desirable for a virtuous man. For that which is good by nature, we have said, is for the virtuous man good and pleasant in itself. Now life is defined in the case of animals by the power of perception, in that of man by the power of perception or thought; and a power is referred to the corresponding activity, which is the essential thing; therefore life seems to be essentially perceiving or thinking. And life is among the things that are good and pleasant in themselves, since it is determinate and the determinate is of the nature of the good; and that which is good by nature is also good for the virtuous man (which is the reason why life seems pleasant to all men); but we must not apply this to a wicked and corrupt life nor to a life spent in pain; for such a life is indeterminate, as are its attributes. The nature of pain will become plainer in what follows. But if life itself is good and pleasant (which it seems to be, from the very fact that all men desire it, and particularly those who are good and blessed; for to such men life is most desirable, and their existence is the most blessed); and if he who sees perceives that he sees, and he who hears, that he hears, and he who walks, that he walks, and in the case of all other activities similarly there is something which perceives that we are active, so that if we perceive, we perceive that we perceive, and if we think, that we think; and if to perceive that we perceive or think is to perceive that we exist (for existence was defined as perceiving or thinking); and if perceiving that one lives is one of the things that are pleasant in themselves (for life is by nature good, and to perceive what is good present in oneself is pleasant); and if life is desirable, and particularly so for good men, because to them existence is good and pleasant (for they are pleased at the consciousness of what is in itself good); and if as the virtuous man is to himself, he is to his friend also (for his friend is another self);—then as his own existence is desirable for each man, so, or almost so, is that of his friend. Now his existence was seen to be desirable because he perceived his own goodness, and such perception is pleasant in itself. He needs, therefore, to be conscious of the existence of his friend as well, and this will be realized in their living together and sharing in discussion and thought; for this is what living

Book IX, Chapter 9 and Book X, Chapter i

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together would seem to mean in the case of man, and not, as in the case of cattle, feeding in the same place. If, then, existence is in itself desirable for the blessed man (since it is by its nature good and pleasant), and that of his friend is very much the same, a friend will be one of the things that are desirable. Now that which is desirable for him he must have, or he will be deficient in this respect. The man who is to be happy will therefore need virtuous friends.

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BOOK X CHAPTER I After these matters we ought perhaps next to discuss pleasure. For it is thought to be most intimately connected with our human nature, which is the reason why in educating the young we steer them by the rudders of pleasure and pain; it is thought, too, that to enjoy the things we ought and to hate the things we ought has the greatest bearing on excellence of character. For these things extend right through life, with a weight and power of their own in respect both to excellence and to the happy life, since men choose what is pleasant and avoid what is painful; and such things, it will be thought, we should least of all omit to discuss, especially since they admit of much dispute. For some say pleasure is the good, while others, on the contrary, say it is thoroughly bad—some no doubt being persuaded that the facts are so, and others thinking it has a better effect on our life to exhibit pleasure as a bad thing even if it is not; for most people (they think) incline towards it and are the slaves of their pleasures, for which reason they ought to lead them in the opposite direction, since thus they will reach the middle state. But surely this is not correct. For arguments about matters concerned with feelings and actions are less reliable than facts: and so when they clash with the facts of perception they are despised, and discredit the truth as well; if a man who runs down pleasure is once seen to be aiming at it, his inclining towards it is thought to imply that it is all worthy of being aimed at; for most people are not good at drawing distinctions. True arguments seem, then, most useful, not only with a view to knowledge, but with a view to life also; for since they harmonize with the facts they are believed, and so they stimulate those who understand them to live according to them.

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Enough of such questions; let us proceed to review the opinions that have been expressed about pleasure. CHAPTER 2

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Eudoxus thought pleasure was the good because he saw all things, both rational and irrational, aiming at it, and because in all things that which is the object of choice is what is excellent, and that which is most the object of choice the greatest good; thus the fact that all things moved towards the same object indicated that this was for all things the chief good (for each thing, he argued, finds its own good, as it finds its own nourishment); and that which is good for all things and at which all aim was the good. His arguments were credited more because of the excellence of his character than for their own sake; he was thought to be remarkably temperate, and therefore it was thought that he was not saying what he did say as a friend of pleasure, but that the facts really were so. He believed that the same conclusion followed no less plainly from a study of the contrary of pleasure; pain was in itself an object of aversion to all things, and therefore its contrary must be similarly an object of choice. And again that is most an object of choice which we choose not because or for the sake of something else, and pleasure is admittedly of this nature; for no one asks to what end he is pleased, thus implying that pleasure is in itself an object of choice. Further, he argued that pleasure when added to any good, e.g. to just or temperate action, makes it more worthy of choice, and that it is only by itself that the good can be increased. This argument seems to show it to be one of the goods, and no more a good than any other; for every good is more worthy of choice along with another good than taken alone. And so it is by an argument of this kind that Plato proves the good not to be pleasure; he argues that the pleasant life is more desirable with wisdom than without, and that if the mixture is better, pleasure is not the good; for the good cannot become more desirable by the addition of anything to it. Now it is clear that nothing else either can be the good if it is made more desirable by the addition of any of the things that are good in themselves. What, then, is there that satisfies this criterion, which at the same time we can participate in? It is something of this sort that we are looking for. Those who object that that at which all things aim is not necessarily good are talking nonsense. For we say that that which everyone thinks

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really is so; and the man who attacks this belief will hardly have anything more credible to maintain instead. If it is senseless creatures that desire the things in question, there might be something in what they say; but if intelligent creatures do so as well, what sense can there be in this view? But perhaps even in inferior creatures there is some natural good stronger than themselves which aims at their proper good. Nor does the argument about the contrary of pleasure seem to be correct. They say that if pain is an evil it does not follow that pleasure is a good; for evil is opposed to evil and at the same time both are opposed to the neutral state—which is correct enough but does not apply to the things in question. For if both belonged to the class of evils they ought both to be objects of aversion, while if they belonged to the class of neutrals neither should be or they should both be equally so; but in fact people evidently avoid the one as evil and choose the other as good; that then must be the nature of the opposition between them.

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CHAPTER 3 Nor again, if pleasure is not a quality, does it follow that it is not a good; for the activities of excellence are not qualities either, nor is 15 happiness. They say, however, that the good is determinate, while pleasure is indeterminate, because it admits of degrees. Now if it is from the feeling of pleasure that they judge thus, the same will be true of justice and the other excellences in respect of which we plainly say that people of a certain character are so more or less, and act more or less in accordance with these excellences; for people may be more 20 just or brave, and it is possible also to act justly or temperately more or less. But if their judgement is based on the various pleasures, surely they are not stating the cause, if in fact some pleasures are unmixed and others mixed. Again, just as health admits of degrees without being indeterminate, why should not pleasure? The same 25 proportion is not found in all things, nor a single proportion always in the same thing, but it may be relaxed and yet persist up to a point, and it may differ in degree. The case of pleasure also may therefore be of this kind. Again, they assume that the good is complete while movements and comings into being are incomplete, and try to exhibit pleasure as being 30 a movement and a coming into being. But they do not seem to be right,

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nor does it seem to be a movement. For speed and slowness are thought to be proper to every movement, if not in itself (as e.g. that of the heavens) then in relation to something else; but of pleasure neither of these things is true. For while we may become pleased quickly as we may become angry quickly, we cannot be pleased quickly, not even in relation to some one else, while we can walk, or grow, or the like, quickly. While, then, we can change quickly or slowly into a state of pleasure, we cannot quickly exhibit the activity of pleasure, i.e. be pleased. Again, how can it be a coming into being? It is not thought that any chance thing can come out of any chance thing, but that a thing is dissolved into that out of which it comes into being; and pain would be the destruction of that of which pleasure is the coming into being. They say, too, that pain is the lack of that which is according to nature, and pleasure is replenishment. But these experiences are bodily. If then pleasure is replenishment with that which is according to nature, that which feels pleasure will be that in which the replenishment takes place, i.e. the body; but that is not thought to be the case; therefore the replenishment is not pleasure, though one might be pleased when replenishment was taking place, just as one would be pained if one was being operated on. This opinion seems to be based on the pains and pleasures connected with nutrition; on the fact that when people have been short of food and have felt pain beforehand they are pleased by the replenishment. But this does not happen with all pleasures; for the pleasures of learning and, among the sensuous pleasures, those of smell, and also many sounds and sights, and memories and hopes, do not presuppose pain. Of what then will these be the coming into being? There has not been lack of anything of which they could be the replenishment. In reply to those who bring forward the disgraceful pleasures one may say that these are not pleasant; if things are pleasant to people of vicious constitution, we must not suppose that they are also pleasant to others than these, just as we do not reason so about the things that are wholesome or sweet or bitter to sick people, or ascribe whiteness to the things that seem white to those suffering from a disease of the eye. Or one might answer thus—that the pleasures are desirable, but not from these sources, as wealth is desirable, but not as the reward of betrayal, and health, but not at the cost of eating anything and everything. Or perhaps pleasures differ in kind; for those derived from noble sources are different from those derived from base sources, and

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one cannot get the pleasure of the just man without being just, nor that 30 of the musical man without being musical, and so on. The fact, too, that a friend is different from a flatterer seems to make it plain that pleasure is not a good or that pleasures are different in kind; for the one is thought to consort with us with a view to the good, the other with a view to our pleasure, and the one is reproached for his conduct while the other is praised on the ground that he consorts with us for different ends. And no one would choose to live with the intel- 1174* lect of a child throughout his life, however much he were to be pleased at the things that children are pleased at, nor to get enjoyment by doing some most disgraceful deed, though he were never to feel any pain in consequence. And there are many things we should be keen about even if they brought no pleasure, e.g. seeing, remembering, 5 knowing, possessing the excellences. If pleasures necessarily do accompany these, that makes no odds; we should choose these even if no pleasure resulted. It seems to be clear, then, that neither is pleasure the good nor is all pleasure desirable, and that some pleasures are 10 desirable in themselves, differing in kind or in their sources from the others. So much for the things that are said about pleasure and pain. CHAPTER 4 What pleasure is, or what kind of thing it is, will become plainer if we take up the question again from the beginning. Seeing seems to be at any moment complete, for it does not lack anything which coming into 15 being later will complete its form; and pleasure also seems to be of this nature. For it is a whole, and at no time can one find a pleasure whose form will be completed if the pleasure lasts longer. For this reason, too, it is not a movement. For every movement (e.g. that of building) takes time and is for the sake of an end, and is complete when it has 20 made what it aims at. It is complete, therefore, only in the whole time or at the final moment. In their parts and during the time they occupy, all movements are incomplete, and are different in kind from the whole movement and from each other. For the fitting together of the stones is different from the fluting of the column, and these are both different from the making of the temple; and the making of the temple is complete (for it lacks nothing with a view to the end proposed), but the 25 making of the base or of the triglyph is incomplete; for each is the making of a part. They differ in kind, then, and it is not possible to find at any and every time a movement complete in form, but if at all, only

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in the whole time. So, too, in the case of walking and all other movements. For if locomotion is a movement from here to there, it, too, has differences in kind—flying, walking, leaping, and so on. And not only so, but in walking itself there are such differences; for the whence and whither are not the same in the whole racecourse and in a part of it, nor in one part and in another, nor is it the same thing to traverse this line and that; for one traverses not only a line but one which is in a place, and this one is in a different place from that. We have discussed movement with precision in another work, but it seems that it is not complete at any and every time, but that the many movements are incomplete and different in kind, since the whence and whither give them their form. But of pleasure the form is complete at any and every time. Plainly, then, pleasure and movement must be different from each other, and pleasure must be one of the things that are whole and complete. This would seem to be the case, too, from the fact that it is not possible to move otherwise than in time, but it is possible to be pleased; for that which takes place in a moment is a whole. From these considerations it is clear, too, that these thinkers are not right in saying there is a movement or a coming into being of pleasure. For these cannot be ascribed to all things, but only to those that are divisible and not wholes; there is no coming into being of seeing nor of a point nor of a unit, nor is any of these a movement or coming into being; therefore there is none of pleasure either; for it is a whole. Since every sense is active in relation to its object, and a sense which is in good condition acts completely in relation to the most beautiful of its objects (for complete activity seems to be especially of this nature; whether we say that it is active, or the organ in which it resides, may be assumed to be immaterial), it follows that in the case of each sense the best activity is that of the best-conditioned organ in relation to the finest of its objects. And this activity will be the most complete and pleasant. For, while there is pleasure in respect of any sense, and in respect of thought and contemplation no less, the most complete is pleasantest, and that of a well-conditioned organ in relation to the worthiest of its objects is the most complete; and the pleasure completes the activity. But the pleasure does not complete it in the same way as the object perceived and the faculty of perception, if they are good, do—just as health and the doctor are not in the same way the cause of a man's being healthy. (That pleasure is produced in respect to each sense is plain; for we speak of sights and sounds as pleasant. It is also plain that it arises most of all when both the sense is at its best

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and it is active in reference to an object which corresponds; when both object and perceiver are of the best there will always be pleasure, since 30 the requisite agent and patient are both present.) Pleasure completes the activity not as the inherent state does, but as an end which supervenes as the bloom of youth does on those in the flower of their age. So long, then, as both the intelligible or sensible object and the discriminating or contemplative faculty are as they should be, the pleasure will be involved in the activity; for when both the passive and 1175* the active factor are unchanged and are related to each other in the same way, the same result naturally follows. How, then, is it that no one is contiguously pleased? Is it that we grow weary? Certainly all human things are incapable of continuous activity. Therefore pleasure also is not continuous; for it accompanies activity. Some things delight us when they are new, but later do so less, 5 for the same reason; for at first the mind is in a state of stimulation and intensely active about them, as people are with respect to their vision when they look hard at a thing, but afterwards our activity is not of this kind, but has grown relaxed; for which reason the pleasure also is 10 dulled. One might think that all men desire pleasure because they all aim at life; life is an activity, and each man is active about those things and with those faculties that he loves most; e.g. the musician is active with his hearing in reference to tunes, the student with his mind in reference to theoretical questions, and so on in each case; now 15 pleasure completes the activities, and therefore life, which they desire. It is with good reason, then, that they aim at pleasure too, since for everyone it completes life, which is desirable. But whether we choose life for the sake of pleasure or pleasure for the sake of life is a question we may dismiss for the present. For they seem to be bound up together and not to admit of separation, since without activity pleasure does not 20 arise, and every activity is completed by pleasure. CHAPTER 5

For this reason pleasures seem, too, to differ in kind. For things different in kind are, we think, completed by different things (we see this to be true both of natural objects and of things produced by art, e.g. animals, trees, a painting, a sculpture, a house, an implement); and, similarly, we think that activities differing in kind are completed by things differing in kind. Now the activities of thought differ from

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those of the senses, and among themselves, in kind; so, therefore, do the pleasures that complete them. This may be seen, too, from the fact that each of the pleasures is bound up with the activity it completes. For an activity is intensified by its proper pleasure, since each class of things is better judged of and brought to precision by those who engage in the activity with pleasure; e.g. it is those who enjoy geometrical thinking that become geometers and grasp the various propositions better, and, similarly, those who are fond of music or of building, and so on, make progress in their proper function by enjoying it; and the pleasures intensify the activities, and what intensifies a thing is proper to it, but things different in kind have properties different in kind. This will be even more apparent from the fact that activities are hindered by pleasures arising from other sources. For people who are fond of playing the flute are incapable of attending to arguments if they overhear someone playing the flute, since they enjoy flute-playing more than the activity in hand; so the pleasure connected with fluteplaying destroys the activity concerned with argument. This happens, similarly, in all other cases, when one is active about two things at once; the more pleasant activity drives out the other, and if it is much more pleasant does so all the more, so that one even ceases from the other. This is why when we enjoy anything very much we do not throw ourselves into anything else, and do one thing only when we are not much pleased by another; e.g. in the theatre the people who eat sweets do so most when the actors are poor. Now since activities are made precise and more enduring and better by their proper pleasure, and injured by alien pleasures, evidently the two kinds of pleasure are far apart. For alien pleasures do pretty much what proper pains do, since activities are destroyed by their proper pains; e.g. if a man finds writing or doing sums unpleasant and painful, he does not write, or does not do sums, because the activity is painful. So an activity suffers contrary effects from its proper pleasures and pains, i.e. from those that supervene on it in virtue of its own nature. And alien pleasures have been stated to do much the same as pain; they destroy the activity, only not to the same degree. Now since activities differ in respect of goodness and badness, and some are worthy to be chosen, others to be avoided, and others neutral, so, too, are the pleasures; for to each activity there is a proper pleasure. The pleasure proper to a worthy activity is good and that proper to an unworthy activity bad; just as the appetites for noble

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objects are laudable, those for base objects culpable. But the pleasures involved in activities are more proper to them than the desires; for the 30 latter are separated both in time and in nature, while the former are close to the activities, and so hard to distinguish from them that it admits of dispute whether the activity is not the same as the pleasure. (Still, pleasure does not seem to be thought or perception—that would be strange; but because they are not found apart they appear to some 35 people the same.) As activities are different, then, so are the corresponding pleasures. Now sight is superior to touch in purity, and 1176* hearing and smell to taste; the pleasures, therefore, are similarly superior, and those of thought superior to these, and within each of the two kinds some are superior to others. Each animal is thought to have a proper pleasure, as it has a proper function; viz. that which corresponds to its activity. If we survey them 5 species by species, too, this will be evident; horse, dog, and man have different pleasures, as Heraclitus says 'asses would prefer sweepings to gold'; for food is pleasanter than gold to asses. So the pleasures of creatures different in kind differ in kind, and it is plausible to suppose that those of a single species do not differ. But they vary to no small extent, in the case of men at least; the same things delight some people 10 and pain others, and are painful and odious to some, and pleasant to and liked by others. This happens, too, in the case of sweet things; the same things do not seem sweet to a man in a fever and a healthy manner hot to a weak man and one in good condition. The same happens in other cases. But in all such matters that which appears to the good 15 man is thought to be really so. If this is correct, as it seems to be, and excellence and the good man as such are the measure of each thing, those also will be pleasures which appear so to him, and those things pleasant which he enjoys. If the things he finds tiresome seem pleasant to someone, that is nothing surprising; for men may be ruined and 2o spoilt in many ways; but the things are not pleasant, but only pleasant to these people and to people in this condition. Those which are admittedly disgraceful plainly should not be said to be pleasures, except to a perverted taste; but of those that are thought to be good what kind of pleasure or what pleasure should be said to be that proper to man? Is it not plain from the corresponding activities? The 25 pleasures follow these. Whether, then, the complete and blessed man has one or more activities, the pleasures that complete these will be said in the strict sense to be pleasures proper to man, and the rest will be so in a secondary and fractional way, as are the activities.

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Now that we have spoken of the excellences, the forms of friendship, and the varieties of pleasure, what remains is to discuss in outline the nature of happiness, since this is what we state the end of human nature to be. Our discussion will be the more concise if we first sum up what we have said already. We said, then, that it is not a state; for if it were it might belong to someone who was asleep throughout his life, living the life of a plant, or, again, to someone who was suffering the greatest misfortunes. If these implications are unacceptable, and we must rather class happiness as an activity, as we have said before, and if some activities are necessary and desirable for the sake of something else, while others are so in themselves, evidently happiness must be placed among those desirable in themselves, not among those desirable for the sake of something else; for happiness does not lack anything, but is self-sufficient. Now those activities are desirable in themselves from which nothing is sought beyond the activity. And of this nature excellent actions are thought to be; for to do noble and good deeds is a thing desirable for its own sake. Pleasant amusements also are thought to be of this nature; we choose them not for the sake of other things; for we are injured rather than benefited by them, since we are led to neglect our bodies and our property. But most of the people who are deemed happy take refuge in such pastimes, which is the reason why those who are ready-witted at them are highly esteemed at the courts of tyrants; they make themselves pleasant companions in the tyrant's favourite pursuits, and that is the sort of man they want. Now these things are thought to be of the nature of happiness because people in despotic positions spend their leisure in them, but perhaps such people prove nothing; for excellence and thought, from which good activities flow, do not depend on despotic position; nor, if these people, who have never tasted pure and generous pleasure, take refuge in the bodily pleasures, should these for that reason be thought more desirable; for boys, too, think the things that are valued among themselves are the best. It is to be expected, then, that, as different things seem valuable to boys and to men, so they should to bad men and to good. Now, as we have often maintained, those things are both valuable and pleasant which are such to the good man; and to each man the activity in accordance with his own state is most desirable, and, therefore, to the good man that which is in accordance with excellence. Happiness, therefore, does

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not lie in amusement; it would, indeed, be strange if the end were amusement, and one were to take trouble and suffer hardship all one's 30 life in order to amuse oneself. For, in a word, everything that we choose we choose for the sake of something else—except happiness, which is an end. Now to exert oneself and work for the sake of amusement seems silly and utterly childish. But to amuse oneself in order that one may exert oneself, as Anacharsis puts it, seems right; for amusement is a sort of relaxation, and we need relaxation because we cannot work continuously. Relaxation, then, is not an end; for it is taken for the sake of activity. 1177" The happy life is thought to be one of excellence; now an excellent life requires exertion, and does not consist in amusement. And we say that serious things are better than laughable things and those connected with amusement, and that the activity of the better of any two things—whether it be two parts or two men—is the better; but the 5 activity of the better is ipso facto superior and more of the nature of happiness. And any chance person—even a slave—can enjoy the bodily pleasures no less than the best man; but no one assigns to a slave a share in happiness—unless he assigns to him also a share in human life. For happiness does not lie in such occupations, but, as we have said before, in excellent activities. 10 CHAPTER 7 If happiness is activity in accordance with excellence, it is reasonable that it should be in accordance with the highest excellence; and this will be that of the best thing in us. Whether it be intellect or something else that is this element which is thought to be our natural ruler and guide and to take thought of things noble and divine, whether it be 15 itself also divine or only the most divine element in us, the activity of this in accordance with its proper excellence will be complete happiness. That this activity is contemplative^we have already said. Now this would seem to be in agreement both with what we said before and with the truth. For this activity is the best (since not only is 20 intellect the best thing in us, but the objects of intellect are the best of knowable objects); and, secondly, it is the most continuous, since we can contemplate truth more continuously than we can do anything. And we think happiness has pleasure mingled with it, but the activity of wisdom is admittedly the pleasantest of excellent activities; at all events philosophy is thought to offer pleasures marvellous for their 25

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purity and their enduringness, and it is to be expected that those who know will pass their time more pleasantly than those who inquire. And the self-sufficiency that is spoken of must belong most to the contemplative activity. For while a wise man, as well as a just man and the rest, needs the necessaries of life, when they are sufficiently equipped with things of that sort the just man needs people towards whom and with whom he shall act justly, and the temperate man, the brave man, and each of the others is in the same case, but the wise man, even when by himself, can contemplate truth, and the better the wiser he is; he can perhaps do so better if he has fellow-workers, but still he is the most self-sufficient. And this activity alone would seem to be loved for its own sake; for nothing arises from it apart from the contemplating, while from practical activities we gain more or less apart from the action. And happiness is thought to depend on leisure; for we are busy that we may have leisure, and make war that we may live in peace. Now the activity of the practical excellences is exhibited in political or military affairs, but the actions concerned with these seem to be unleisurely. Warlike actions are completely so (for no one chooses to be at war, or provokes war, for the sake of being at war; anyone would seem absolutely murderous if he were to make enemies of his friends in order to bring about battle and slaughter); but the action of the statesman is also unleisurely, and—apart from the political action itself—aims at despotic power and honours, or at all events happiness, for him and his fellow citizens—a happiness different from political action, and evidently sought as being different. So if among excellent actions political and military actions are distinguished by nobility and greatness, and these are unleisurely and aim at an end and are not desirable for their own sake, but the activity of intellect, which is contemplative, seems both to be superior in worth and to aim at no end beyond itself, and to have its pleasure proper to itself (and this augments the activity), and the self-sufficiency, leisureliness, unweariedness (so far as this is possible for man), and all the other attributes ascribed to the blessed man are evidently those connected with this activity, it follows that this will be the complete happiness of man, if it be allowed a complete term of life (for none of the attributes of happiness is incomplete). But such a life would be too high for man; for it is not in so far as he is man that he will live so, but in so far as something divine is present in him; and by so much as this is superior to our composite nature is its activity superior to that which is the exercise of the other kind of

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excellence. If intellect is divine, then, in comparison with man, the life according to it is divine in comparison with human life. But we must not follow those who advise us, being men, to think of human things, and, being mortal, of mortal things, but must, so far as we can, make ourselves immortal, and strain every nerve to live in accordance with the best thing in us; for even if it be small in bulk, much more does it in power and worth surpass everything. This would seem actually to be each man, since it is the authoritative and better part of him. It would be strange, then, if he were to choose not the life of himself but that of something else. And what we said before will apply now; that which is proper to each thing is by nature best and most pleasant for each thing; for man, therefore, the life according to intellect is best and pleasantest, since intellect more than anything else is man. This life therefore is also the happiest.

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But in a secondary degree the life in accordance with the other kind of excellence is happy; for the activities in accordance with this befit our Z o human estate. Just and brave acts, and other excellent acts, we do in relation to each other, observing what is proper to each with regard to contracts and services and all manner of actions and with regard to passions; and all of these seem to be human. Some of them seem even to arise from the body, and excellence of character to be in many ways bound up with the passions. Practical wisdom, too, is linked to excel- 15 lence of character, and this to practical wisdom, since the principles of practical wisdom are in accordance with the moral excellences and Tightness in the moral excellences is in accordance with practical wisdom. Being connected with the passions also, the moral excellences must belong to our composite nature; and the excellences of 20 our composite nature are human; so, therefore, are the life and the happiness which correspond to these. The excellence of the intellect is a thing apart; we must be content to say this much about it, for to describe it precisely is a task greater than our purpose requires. It would seem, however, to need external equipment very little, or less than moral excellence does. Grant that both need the necessaries, 25 and do so equally, even if the statesman's work is the more concerned with the body and things of that sort; for there will be little difference there; but in what they need for the exercise of their activities there will be much difference. The liberal man will need money for the

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doing of his liberal deeds, and the just man too will need it for the returning of services (for wishes are hard to discern, and even people who are not just pretend to wish to act justly); and the brave man will need power if he is to accomplish any of the acts that correspond to his excellence, and the temperate man will need opportunity; for how else is either he or any of the others to be recognized? It is debated, too, whether the choice or the deed is more essential to excellence, which is assumed to involve both; it is surely clear that its completion involves both; but for deeds many things are needed, and more, the greater and nobler the deeds are. But the man who is contemplating the truth needs no such thing, at least with a view to the exercise of his activity; indeed they are, one may say, even hindrances, at all events to his contemplation; but in so far as he is a man and lives with a number of people, he chooses to do excellent acts; he will therefore need such aids to living a human life. But that complete happiness is a contemplative activity will appear from the following consideration as well. We assume the gods to be above all other beings blessed and happy; but what sort of actions must we assign to them? Acts of justice? Will not the gods seem absurd if they make contracts and return deposits, and so on? Acts of a brave man, then, confronting dangers and running risks because it is noble to do so? Or liberal acts? To whom will they give? It will be strange if they are really to have money or anything of the kind. And what would their temperate acts be? Is not such praise tasteless, since they have no bad appetites? If we were to run through them all, the circumstances of action would be found trivial and unworthy of gods. Still, every one supposes that they live and therefore that they are active; we cannot suppose them to sleep like Endymion. Now if you take away from a living being action, and still more production, what is left but contemplation? Therefore the activity of God, which surpasses all others in blessedness, must be contemplative; and of human activities, therefore, that which is most akin to this must be most of the nature of happiness. This is indicated, too, by the fact that the other animals have no share in happiness, being completely deprived of such activity. For while the whole life of the gods is blessed, and that of men too in so far as some likeness of such activity belongs to them, none of the other animals is happy, since they in no way share in contemplation. Happiness extends, then, just so far as contemplation does, and those to whom contemplation more fully belongs are more truly happy, not

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accidentally, but in virtue of the contemplation; for this is in itself precious. Happiness, therefore, must be some form of contemplation. But, being a man, one will also need external prosperity; for our nature is not self-sufficient for the purpose of contemplation, but our body also must be healthy and must have food and other attention. Still, we must not think that the man who is to be happy will need many things or great things, merely because he cannot be blessed without external goods; for self-sufficiency and action do not depend on excess, and we can do noble acts without ruling earth and sea; for even with moderate advantages one can act excellently (this is manifest enough; for private persons are thought to do worthy acts no less than despots—indeed even more); and it is enough that we should have so much as that; for the life of the man who is active in accordance with excellence will be happy. Solon, too, was perhaps sketching well the happy man when he described him as moderately furnished with externals but as having done (as Solon thought) the noblest acts, and lived temperately; for one can with but moderate possessions do what one ought. Anaxagoras also seems to have supposed the happy man not to be rich nor a despot, when he said that he would not be surprised if the happy man were to seem to most people a strange person; for they judge by externals, since these are all they perceive. The opinions of the wise seem, then, to harmonize with our arguments. But while even such things carry some conviction, the truth in practical matters is discerned from the facts of life; for these are the decisive factor. We must therefore survey what we have already said, bringing it to the test of the facts of life, and if it harmonizes with the facts we must accept it, but if it clashes with them we must suppose it to be mere theory. Now he who exercises his intellect and cultivates it seems to be both in the best state and most dear to the gods. For if the gods have any care for human affairs, as they are thought to have, it would be reasonable both that they should delight in that which was best and most akin to them (i.e. intellect) and that they should reward those who love and honour this most, as caring for the things that are dear to them and acting both rightly and nobly. And that all these attributes belong most of all to the wise man is manifest. He, therefore, is the dearest to the gods. And he who is that will presumably be also the happiest; so that in this way too the wise man will more than any other be happy.

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If these matters and the excellences, and also friendship and pleasure, have been dealt with sufficiently in outline, are we to suppose that our programme has reached its end? Surely, as is said, where there are things to be done the end is not to survey and recognize the various things, but rather to do them; with regard to excellence, then, it is not enough to know, but we must try to have and use it, or try any other way there may be of becoming good. Now if arguments were in themselves enough to make men good, they would justly, as Theognis says, have won very great rewards, and such rewards should have been provided; but as things are, while they seem to have power to encourage and stimulate the generous-minded among the young, and to make a character which is gently born, and a true lover of what is noble, ready to be possessed by excellence, they are not able to encourage the many to nobility and goodness. For these do not by nature obey the sense of shame, but only fear, and do not abstain from bad acts because of their baseness but through fear of punishment; living by passion they pursue their own pleasures and the means to them, and avoid the opposite pains, and have not even a conception of what is noble and truly pleasant, since they have never tasted it. What argument would remould such people? It is hard, if not impossible, to remove by argument the traits that have long since been incorporated in the character; and perhaps we must be content if, when all the influences by which we are thought to become good are present, we get some tincture of excellence. Now some think that we are made good by nature, others by habituation, others by teaching. Nature's part evidently does not depend on us, but as a result of some divine causes is present irt those who are truly fortunate; while argument and teaching, we may suspect, are not powerful with all men, but the soul of the student must first have been cultivated by means of habits for noble joy and noble hatred, like earth which is to nourish the seed. For he who lives as passion directs will not hear argument that dissuades him, nor understand it if he does; and how can we persuade one in such a state to change his ways? And in general passion seems to yield not to argument but to force. The character, then, must somehow be there already with a kinship to excellence, loving what is noble and hating what is base. But it is difficult to get from youth up a right training for excellence

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if one has not been brought up under right laws; for to live temperately and hardily is not pleasant to most people, especially when they are young. For this reason their nurture and occupations should be fixed by law; for they will not be painful when they have become customary. 1180* But it is surely not enough that when they are young they should get the right nurture and attention; since they must, even when they are grown up, practise and be habituated to them, we shall need laws for this as well, and generally speaking to cover the whole of life; for most people obey necessity rather than argument, and punishments rather 5 than what is noble. This is why some think that legislators ought to stimulate men to excellence and urge them forward by the motive of the noble, on the assumption that those who have been well advanced by the formation of habits will attend to such influences; and that punishments and penalties should be imposed on those who disobey and are of inferior nature, while the incurably bad should be completely banished. A good man (they think), since he lives with his mind fixed on what is 10 noble, will submit to argument, while a bad man, whose desire is for pleasure, is corrected by pain like a beast of burden. This is, too, why they say the pains inflicted should be those that are most opposed to the pleasures such men love. However that may be, if (as we have said) the man who is to be good must be well trained and habituated, and go on to spend his time in 15 worthy occupations and neither willingly nor unwillingly do bad actions, and if this can be brought about if men live in accordance with a sort of intellect and right order, provided this has force,—if this be so, the paternal command indeed has not the required force or compulsive power (nor in general has the command of one man, unless he 20 be a king or something similar), but the law has compulsive power, while it is at the same time an account proceeding from a sort of practical wisdom and intellect. And while people hate men who oppose their impulses, even if they oppose them rightly, the law in its ordaining of what is good is not burdensome. In the Spartan state alone, or almost alone, the legislator seems to 25 have paid attention to questions of nurture and occupations; in most states such matters have been neglected, and each man lives as he pleases, Cyclops-fashion, 'to his own wife and children dealing law'. Now it is best that there should be a public and proper care for such matters; but if they are neglected by the community it would seem 30 right for each man to help his children and friends towards

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excellence, and that they should be able, or at least choose, to do this. It would seem from what has been said that he can do this better if he makes himself capable of legislating. For public care is plainly effected by laws, and good care by good laws; whether written or unwritten would seem to make no difference, nor whether they are laws providing for the education of individuals or of groups—any more than it does in the case of music or gymnastics and other such pursuits. For as in cities laws and character have force, so in households do the injunctions and the habits of the father, and these have even more because of the tie of blood and the benefits he confers; for the children start with a natural affection and disposition to obey. Further, individual education has an advantage over education in common, as individual medical treatment has; for while in general rest and abstinence from food are good for a man in a fever, for a particular man they may not be; and a boxer presumably does not prescribe the same style of fighting to all his pupils. It would seem, then, that the detail is worked out with more precision if the care is particular to individuals; for each person is more likely to get what suits his case. But individuals can be best cared for by a doctor or gymnastic instructor or anyone else who has the universal knowledge of what is good for everyone or for people of a certain kind (for the sciences both are said to be, and are, concerned with what is common); not but what some particular detail may perhaps be well looked after by an unscientific person, if he has studied accurately in the light of experience what happens in each case, just as some people seem to be their own best doctors, though they could give no help to anyone else. None the less, it will perhaps be agreed that if a man does wish to become master of an art or science he must go to the universal, and come to know it as well as possible; for, as we have said, it is with this that the sciences are concerned. And surely he who wants to make men, whether many or few, better by his care must try to become capable of legislating, if it is through laws that we can become good. For to get anyone whatever—anyone who is put before us—into the right condition is not for the first chance comer; if anyone can do it, it is the man who knows, just as in medicine and all other matters which give scope for care and practical wisdom. Must we not, then, next examine whence or how one can learn how to legislate? Is it, as in all other cases, from statesmen? Certainly it was

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thought to be a part of statesmanship. Or is a difference apparent between statesmanship and the other sciences and faculties? In the others the same people are found offering to teach the faculties and practising them, e.g. doctors or painters; but while the sophists profess to teach politics, it is practised not by any of them but by the politicians, who would seem to do so by dint of a certain faculty and experi- 1181' ence rather than of thought; for they are not found either writing or speaking about such matters (though it were a nobler occupation perhaps than composing speeches for the law-courts and the assembly), nor again are they found to have made statesmen of their 5 own sons or any other of their friends. But it was to be expected that they should if they could; for there is nothing better than such a skill that they could have left to their cities, or could choose to have for themselves, or, therefore, for those dearest to them. Still, experience 10 seems to contribute not a little; else they could not have become politicians by familiarity with politics; and so it seems that those who aim at knowing about the art of politics need experience as well. But those of the sophists who profess the art seem to be very far from teaching it. For, to put the matter generally, they do not even know what kind of thing it is nor what kinds of thing it is about; otherwise they would not have classed it as identical with rhetoric or even inferior to it, nor have thought it easy to legislate by collecting the laws 15 that are thought well of; they say it is possible to select the best laws, as though even the selection did not demand intelligence and as though right judgement were not the greatest thing, as in matters of music. For while people experienced in any department judge rightly the works produced in it, and understand by what means or how they are achieved, and what harmonizes with what, the inexperienced must be 20 content if they do not fail to see whether the work has been well or ill made—as in the case of painting. Now laws are as it were the works of the political art; how then can one learn from them to be a legislator, n8ib or judge which are best? Even medical men do not seem to be made by a study of textbooks. Yet people try, at any rate, to state not only the treatments, but also how particular classes of people can be cured and should be treated—distinguishing the various states; but while this seems useful to experienced people, to the ignorant it is valueless. s Surely, then, while collections of laws, and of constitutions also, may be serviceable to those who can study them and judge what is good or bad and what enactments suit what circumstances, those who go through such collections without a practised faculty will not have right

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judgement (unless it be spontaneous), though they may perhaps become more intelligent in such matters. Now our predecessors have left the subject of legislation to us unexamined; it is perhaps best, therefore, that we should ourselves study it, and in general study the question of the constitution, in order to complete to the best of our ability the philosophy of human nature. First, then, if anything has been said well in detail by earlier thinkers, let us try to review it; then in the light of the constitutions we have collected let us study what sorts of influence preserve and destroy states, and what sorts preserve or destroy the particular kinds of constitution, and to what causes it is due that some are well and others ill administered. When these have been studied we shall perhaps be more likely to see which constitution is best, and how each must be ordered, and what laws and customs it must use. Let us make a beginning of our discussion.

E U D E M I A N ETHICS* BOOK I CHAPTER I

The man who, in the shrine at Delos, published his opinion by composing an inscription on the propylaeum of the temple of Leto, distinguished the good, the fine, and the pleasant as not all belonging to the same thing. These were his verses: The most just is finest, being healthy is best; Most pleasant is to achieve one's heart's desire.

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But we do not agree with him: for happiness, the finest and best thing of all, is the most pleasant. There are many inquiries concerning each object and each branch 10 of nature which pose problems and require investigation; some contribute only to the attainment of knowledge; some have to do also with getting and doing. In regard to those things that belong solely to theoretical philosophy, we must say, when the occasion arises, whatever is relevant to the discipline. But first we must consider what living well consists in and how it is 15 to be attained: Is it by nature that all those become happy who win this appellation at all—just as men are naturally tall, or short, or of different complexions? Or is it through learning,—happiness being a form of knowledge? Or again, is it through a kind of training? (Many things come the way of human beings neither in the course of nature, nor after learning, but after habituation—bad things to those with the 20 wrong sort of habituation, good to those with the right sort.) Or is it in none of those ways, but one of two further alternatives: either a divine dispensation, as if by divine inspiration, like those possessed by a deity or supernatural powers, or is it a matter of luck? After all, many say 25 that happiness and good fortune are the same thing. That happiness comes to men either through all, or through some, * Translation: M. J. Woods (Clarendon Aristotle series, 1982); Text: F. Susemihl (Teubner Library, 1984), with emendations (see Woods pp. 199-221).

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or through just one of these means is evident. For virtually all changes fall under these principles: actions resulting from thought may all be classed along with those resulting from knowledge. But to be happy, and to live the fme and divinely-happy life, would seem to reside in three things above all, three things that seem to be the most worth having there are. For some say that wisdom is the greatest good, others virtue, others pleasure. And some enter into dispute about the importance of those in relation to happiness, claiming that one contributes more than another to it: some hold wisdom to be a greater good than virtue, others the reverse; while others again believe pleasure a greater good than either. And again, some think that living happily is composed of all of these, some of two of them, others that it consists in one of them in particular. CHAPTER 2

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Taking note of these things, everyone who can live according to his own choice should adopt some goal for the fine life, whether it be honour or reputation or wealth or cultivation—an aim that he will have in view in all his actions; for, not to have ordered one's life in relation to some end is a mark of extreme folly. But, above all, and before everything else, he should settle in his own mind,—neither in a hurried nor in a dilatory manner—in which human thing living well consists, and what those things are without which it cannot belong to human beings. For being healthy is not the same as the things without which it is not possible to be healthy; and this holds likewise in many other cases too. So, living well also is not the same as the things without which living well is impossible. (Some things of this sort are not specific to health or to the good life, but are common to more or less everything, both dispositions and actions—for example, without our breathing or being awake or sharing in movement, nothing either good or bad could belong to us; whereas other things are specific to each kind of thing. This is a point which must not be overlooked: the things just mentioned are not relevant to physical well-being in the same way as are the eating of meat and the taking of exercise after meals.) These are the reasons for the dispute over being happy—what it is and the means by which it comes about: things without which it is not possible to be happy are thought by some to be parts of happiness.

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CHAPTER 3

It would be superfluous to examine all the opinions about happiness that find adherents. Many opinions are held by children and by the 30 diseased and mentally unbalanced, and no sensible man would concern himself with puzzles about them; the holders of such views are in need, not of arguments, but of maturity in which to change their opinions, or else of correction of a civil or medical kind (for medical treatment is no less a form of correction than flogging is). Similarly, neither need we examine the views of the many; they speak in an 1215' unreflective way on almost any topic, most of all when they speak about this; only the opinions of reasonable men should be examined; it would be strange to present argument to those who need not argument, but experience. But, as each inquiry has its own problems, so, evidently, does that concerning the best and highest life. It is these 5 opinions, then, that it is right for us to investigate; for the refutation of those who dispute a certain position is a demonstration of the opposing view. Moreover, clarity about such matters is helpful, but above all for the purpose that anyone must have who enquires how it is possible to live a fine and happy life (if it is unacceptable to say 'divinely happy')—and 10 for the prospect that reasonable men would have, with each alternative, of achieving it. If living well is to be found among those things which occur by luck or in the course of nature, for many it would be a hopeless aspiration; for in that case its possession would not be by their own efforts and in their own power, nor a matter of their own enterprise. But if it consists in the having of a certain character by 15 oneself and one's actions, the good will be at once a more common possession and a more divine one: more common because it will be possible for more people to have a share in it, more divine because happiness is there for those who cultivate a certain character in themselves and their actions. CHAPTER 4 Most of the matters of controversy and puzzlement will become clear 20 if what happiness should be thought to be is properly defined. Should we think that it consists only in the soul's having a certain character, as some older philosophers thought? Or must a man, himself, or rather his actions, also have a certain character? 25

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Various lives are distinguished. Some do not even enter the contest for such good fortune, but are engaged in in order to provide for the necessities of life. I have in mind those devoted to vulgar trades, and to commerce, and the banal occupations (by 'vulgar trades' I mean those engaged in only to obtain reputation, by 'banal occupations', I mean those of a sedentary or wage-earning kind, and by 'commercial', those concerned with the marketing and selling of goods). Just as there are three things that are assigned to a happy conduct of life—the goods that we have in fact already mentioned as the greatest available for human beings, virtue, wisdom, and pleasure—so too we see three lives which all who have the opportunity choose to live, the political, the philosophical, and the pleasure-loving. Of these, the philosophical aspires to a concern with wisdom and speculation about truth, the political with fine actions,—actions that result from virtue—and the pleasure-loving with physical pleasures. And so, as we have said before, one man is called happy by one person, another by another. Anaxagoras of Clazomenae, when asked who was happiest said: 'None of the people you think; he would seem a strange person to you.' He answered in this fashion because he saw that his inquirer supposed that it was impossible for anyone who was not powerful and attractive, or rich, to win this appellation; whereas he perhaps thought that it was the man who led a life without pain and free from stigma in matters of justice, or participated in some divine speculation, who was, humanly speaking, divinely happy. CHAPTER 5

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About many things it is not easy to judge correctly, but it is especially difficult to do so in regard to that which everyone thinks is most easy and within anyone's capacity to know; namely, which of the things in life is worth choosing, and such that one who obtains it will have his desire fulfilled. After all, many things that happen are such as to induce people to abandon life—disease, extremes of pain, storms, for example; so that it is evident that, on account of those things at any rate, it would, given the choice, have been worth choosing not to be born in the first place. Again, there is the life which men lead while they are still children. For no one in his right mind would tolerate a return to that sort of existence. Moreover, many of the things that involve neither pleasure nor pain, or involve pleasure, but of a reprehensible sort, are enough to make not existing at all preferable to

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being alive. In general, if we put together all the things that everyone does or undergoes, but not voluntarily (because they are not done or undergone for their own sake), and an infinite stretch of time were provided in addition, no one would choose in order to have them to be alive, rather than not. Nor again would anyone, unless he were a complete slave, prefer to live solely for the pleasure associated with nutrition and sex, if all the pleasures were removed that knowing or seeing or any of the other senses bestow upon human beings; for it is evident that, for a man who made such a choice as this for himself, it would make no difference whether he were born a beast or a man. Certainly the ox in Egypt, which they honour as the god Apis, has a greater abundance of several of such things than many sovereigns. Similarly, no one would prefer life for the pleasure of sleep; for what difference is there between sleeping without ever waking from one's first day to one's last, over a period of ten thousand years—or however many one likes—and living the life of a plant? Certainly plants seem to have a share in some such sort of life, as do infants. Babies indeed when they first come to be inside the mother exist in their natural state, but asleep all the time. So all this makes it clear that what the well and the good is in life eludes those who investigate the subject. They say that Anaxagoras, when someone raised just these puzzles and asked him what it was for which a person would choose to be born rather than not, answered that it would be 'in order to apprehend the heavens and the order in the whole universe'. So he thought that it was knowledge that made the choice of life worth making; on the other hand, those who admire Sardanapallus, or Smindurides of Sybara, or one or other of those who live the pleasure-loving life, all appear to place happiness in enjoyment; but others again would choose neither wisdom nor bodily pleasures of any kind in preference to virtuous actions. And certainly, they are done by some not only for a reputation but also when there is no prospect of fame. But in fact the majority of political men do not really win this appellation, for in reality they are not political men. For the political man is one who chooses to perform fine actions for their own sake, but the majority of them take up this sort of life for profit and personal advancement. From what we have said it is clear that everyone attributes happiness to three lives, the political, the philosophical, and the pleasureloving. In considering these, it is evident to all what pleasure is associated with the body and with physical enjoyments, what its

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character is, and how it is produced; so we do not need to inquire what those pleasures are, but whether or not they contribute in any way to happiness, how they contribute to it, and whether, if we ought to allot some pleasures to the good life, it is those that we should allot, or whether, although the happy man must share in them in some other 35 way, it is on account of other pleasures that it is reasonable to think that the happy man lives a pleasurable and not merely a painless life. We must investigate these matters further in due course; but first we must look into virtue and wisdom, and discover the nature of each. Are 40 they parts of the good life, either themselves or the actions resulting i2i6b from them? For they are ascribed to happiness, if not by everyone, at any rate by all the people worth taking account of. The elder Socrates thought that the end of life was to know virtue, 5 and used to inquire what justice is, and courage, and each of virtue's parts. It was understandable that he should have proceeded in this way, as he thought that the virtues were all forms of knowledge, and therefore once a man knew justice, he would be a just man. After all, as soon as we have learned geometry and building, we are geometricians 10 and builders. And so Socrates used to inquire what virtue is, rather than how it arises and from what. This approach holds good in the theoretical sciences: nothing belongs to astronomy or natural science or geometry except knowing and apprehending the nature of the 15 objects which fall under these sciences; though incidentally they may well be useful to us for many of the things we need. Of the productive sciences, however, the end is distinct from the science itself and from understanding: health is the end of medicine, good social order—or something of the sort distinct from the science itself,—the end of political science. If something is fine, understanding 20 it is fine also; but still, in the case of virtue, the most valuable thing is not to have knowledge of it, but to know from what sources it arises. For what we wish is to be courageous, not to know what courage is; to be just, not to know what justice is; in the same way as we wish to be healthy rather than to know what being healthy is, and to be in a good 25 state, rather than to know what it is to be in a good state.

Book II, Chapter i

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BOOK II CHAPTER I

We must now make a fresh start, and turn to the next topic of i2i8b discussion. According to a distinction made also in the external discussions, all goods are either in the soul or outside it, and it is those in the soul that are more worthy of choice; for wisdom, virtue, and pleasure are in the soul, and some or all of these seem to be an end for 35 everyone. Of things in the soul, some are states or capacities, others activities and processes. Let this be assumed; and about excellence, that it is the best disposition, state, or capacity of anything that has some employment 1219" or function. This is evident from induction: in all cases this is what we suppose. For example, a cloak has an excellence—and a certain function and employment also; and the best state of the cloak is its excellence. Similarly too with a boat, a house, and other things. So the same is true also of the soul; for there is something which is its 5 function. Let us assume that a better state has a better function; and that as the states stand in relation to one another, so do the functions deriving from them; and each thing's function is its end. From these considerations, then, it is clear that the function is better than the state. For the end, as it is the end, is best; for it is assumed that that which is best, 10 and which is the final thing for whose sake everything else is chosen, is an end. So it is evident that the function is better than the state and the disposition. But a function is so called in two ways. In the case of some things, the function is something distinct, over and above the employment, in the way that the function of house-building is a house, not the building of one, and of medicine health, not the act of curing or applying treat- 15 ment; but in some cases the employment is the function, in the way that, for example, seeing is the function of sight, and speculation the function of mathematical science. So it follows that, where a thing's employment is its function, the employment is better than the state. Having made these distinctions, let us say that a thing and its excellence have the same function, though in different ways. For example, a 20 shoe is the function of the art of shoe-making and the activity of shoemaking. So if there is some excellence which is the excellence of shoemaking and of a good shoe-maker, its function is a good shoe. The

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same holds in the other cases also. Now let us assume that the function of the soul is to make things live, but that is an employment and a waking state, since sleep is an idle and inactive state. So, as the function of the soul and of its excellence must be one and the same, the function of its excellence is a good life. This, then, is the final good, that we agreed to be happiness. It is evident from our assumptions: happiness was assumed to be the best thing, and ends,— the best among goods—are in the soul; but things in the soul are states or activities, (since the activity is better than the disposition, and the best activity is of the best state, and virtue is the best state)—that the activity of virtue must be the best thing of the soul. But happiness too was said to be the best thing: so happiness is activity of a good soul. Now as happiness was agreed to be something complete, and life may be complete or incomplete—and this holds with excellence also (in the one case it is total, in the other partial)— and the activity of what is incomplete is itself incomplete, happiness must be activity of a complete life in accordance with complete virtue. Evidence that we are giving the genus and definition of happiness correctly is provided by opinions that we all have: that both acting well and living well are the same thing as being happy, and each of these (both the living and the acting) is an employment and an activity (for the practical life is a life of employment: the copper-smith makes a bridle, but the horseman makes use of it); also that one cannot be happy either for a single day, nor as a child, nor for a stage of one's life. (And so Solon's idea was right when he said that one should not felicitate a man on being happy when he is alive, only when his life attains completion; for nothing incomplete is happy, as it does not form a whole.) Further, awards of praise for virtue are on account of deeds, and encomia are for deeds; and it is those who win that are crowned with wreaths, not those who have the ability to win, but fail to do so. And there is the fact that one judges from deeds what sort of person someone is. Again, why is happiness not praised? Because it is the reason for which other things are praised, either through being referred to it as a standard, or being parts of it. That is why felicitation and praise and encomium are all different. An encomium speaks of a particular deed; praise of the agent's having that character generally; felicitation is of the end. These considerations clear up the puzzle sometimes raised, why

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virtuous men are no better than the bad for half their life, since all men are alike when asleep; the reason is that sleep is not activity, but inactivity, of the soul. For this reason, too, if there is some other part of the soul, the nutritive, for example, its virtue is not a part of total virtue, any more than the body's is; for in sleep the nutritive is more active whereas the perceiving and desiring parts do not fulfil their function during sleep. However, in so far as they are involved in changes in a way, virtuous men have better dreams unless owing to disease or degeneration they do not. We must now investigate the soul: because virtue belongs to the soul, and does so not incidentally. As it is human virtue that is the object of our inquiry, let us assume that there are two parts of a soul that share in reason, but that they do not both share in reason in the same way: one's nature is to prescribe, the other's to obey and listen; if there is something that is non-rational in a different way from this, let us disregard that part. It makes no difference if the soul is divided into parts or lacks parts, as it certainly has distinct capacities, including the ones mentioned—just as in a curve the concave and convex are inseparable, and the white and the straight may be, though the straight is not white, except incidentally, and it is not essentially the same. Any other part of the soul that there may be, the vegetative for example, is removed from consideration. But the parts we have mentioned are peculiar to the human soul. (And so, the excellences of the nutritive and growing parts are not human virtues, either.) For, if virtue belongs to a human being qua human being, it necessarily includes reasoning, as a starting-point of action; but reasoning controls inclination and the affections, not reasoning itself, so the human soul must have those parts. And as physical well-being is made up of the virtues of the several parts, so is the virtue of the soul, in so far as it is a complete whole. Virtue is of two forms, virtue of character, and intellectual virtue. For we praise not only the just, but also the intelligent and the wise. For virtue, or its function, was assumed to be commended, but those things are not actualizations, though there exist actualizations of them. The intellectual virtues, having, as they do, a rational principle, such virtues belong to the part that has reason and prescribes to the soul in so far as it possesses reason, whereas the virtues of character belong to the part that is non-rational, but whose nature is to follow the rational part; for we do not say what a man's character is like when we say that he is wise or clever, but when we say that he is gentle or daring.

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We must next ask first what virtue of character is, and—since that is what this amounts to—what parts it has, and by what means it is produced. Just as in other cases everyone goes in search with something in hand, we must so conduct our search that we try to arrive at what is said truly and clearly through things said truly but not clearly. At the moment we are placed as we should be if we knew that health was the best disposition of the body and that Coriscus was the swarthiest person in the market-place; we do not know what either of these things is, but it is helpful, in order to know what each of them is, to be so placed. Let it be laid down, first, that the best disposition is produced by the best things, and that, with each thing, the best things are done from that thing's excellence; for example, the best exertions and nourishment are those from which physical well-being results, and it is from well-being that men best exert themselves; moreover that any disposition is produced and destroyed by the same things, applied in a certain way—as we see health is by nourishment, exercise, and time of life. These things are evident from induction. Virtue, therefore, is the sort of disposition which is produced by the best processes to do with the soul, and from which are produced the best functions of the soul and its best affections; and it is by the same things that it is, in one manner, produced, and in another destroyed, and its employment has to do with the same things as those by which it is promoted and destroyed: those in relation to which it disposes things in the best way. That is evidence that both virtue and vice have to do with pleasant and unpleasant things: for punishment operates through these, being as it is a kind of therapy that works through opposites, as in other cases. CHAPTER 6

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Let us then take a new starting-point to the ensuing inquiry. All substances are naturally starting-points of a sort, which is why each one can actually generate many things of the same sort—for a human being generates human beings, and, in general, an animal generates animals and a plant plants. A human being, moreover, is a startingpoint of some actions, and he alone of animals; for of nothing else should we say that it acted. Among starting-points, those that are of that sort—those from which changes first arise—are called controlling starting-points, and

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most correctly those from which results what cannot be otherwise, the sort of control with which the god perhaps governs. In the case of unchanging starting-points, mathematical ones, for instance, there is no controlling, though they are called 'starting-points' on the strength of a similarity; with these, too, if the starting-point were different, everything demonstrated would change, though they do not change one another where one thing is refuted by another, except through refuting the hypothesis and demonstrating by means of it. A human being is the starting-point of a certain kind of change; for an action is a change. Since, as in other cases, the starting-point is a cause of those things that are or come about because of it, we must understand it as we do in the case of demonstrations. For if it is necessary, if a triangle contains two right angles, that a quadrilateral has four, it is clear that the cause of this is that a triangle has two. If a triangle is different, the quadrilateral must be different too; if the triangle has three right angles, the quadrilateral has six, and if the triangle has four, the quadrilateral eight. And if a triangle is of such-and-such a character, and could not be different from that, the other must also be of such-and-such a character. It is evident from the Analytics that what we are attempting to show is necessarily the case; here we can say precisely neither that it is nor that it is not so, except this much: for if nothing else is the cause of a triangle's being so, this must be a sort of starting-point and cause of what follows. So that if some of the things that are are capable of being in opposite states, their starting-points must also be of that kind. For, what follows from what holds of necessity must itself be necessary, whereas what results from these is capable of turning out in opposite ways,—and many of such things are in men's power and of such things they themselves are the starting-points. So it is clear that all those actions that man is a starting-point of, and controls, are capable of coming about or not, and, with those things at least that he controls whether they are or are not, it is in his own power whether they come about or not. All those things that are in his own power either to do or not do he himself is the cause of, and all those things that he is the cause of, are in his own power. Now since virtue and vice and the resulting deeds are in some cases commended and in others blamed (for blame and commendation are given not to things that occur of necessity or by luck or in the course of nature, but to all the things we ourselves are a cause of; since for things

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that someone else is the cause of, he gets the praise and blame), it is evident that virtue and vice have to do with those things of which a man himself is the cause, a starting-point of actions. So we must determine of which a man himself is the cause, and a starting-point. Now we all agree that all those things that are voluntary and in accordance with an individual's choice he is a cause of, while those that are involuntary, he is not a cause of. And all the things that he does having chosen to do them, he actually does voluntarily. So it is evident that both virtue and vice must concern the things that are voluntary. CHAPTER 7

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So we must determine what the voluntary is and what the involuntary is, and what choice is, since these set limits to virtue and vice. We must first look into the voluntary and the involuntary. Now it would seem that it is one of three things—either inclination or choice or thought— the voluntary being in accordance with one of them, the involuntary contrary to one of them. But inclination has three divisions—wish, spirit, and desire. So these must be distinguished; we first consider accordance with desire. It would seem that everything in accordance with desire is voluntary. For everything involuntary seems to be compelled, and what is compelled is unpleasant, as is everything which men are forced to do or undergo, as Evenus says: For everything unpleasant is, That men are forced to do.

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So that if a thing is unpleasant, it is compelled, and if compelled, unpleasant. But anything contrary to desire is unpleasant (because desire is for the pleasant), so it must be compelled and involuntary. Thus that which is in accordance with desire is voluntary, the voluntary and the involuntary being opposed to one another. Again, vice always makes a man less just; incontinence appears to be a vice; the incontinent man is of a sort to act against reason, in accordance with desire, and he acts incontinently when he is active in accordance with desire; and unjust action is voluntary. So that the incontinent man will act unjustly through acting in accordance with desire. So the incontinent man will act voluntarily, and what is in accordance with desire will be voluntary. It would indeed be strange if those who became incontinent thereby became more just.

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In view of those considerations it would seem that what is in accordance with desire is voluntary, but if we look at these the opposite appears to be the case. Anything which a man does voluntarily he does wishing to do it, and what he wishes to do he does voluntarily. But no one wishes for what he believes to be bad. But the man who acts incontinently does not do what he wishes to do, for to act, as a result of desire, against what one believes to be best is to act incontinently. So it will follow that the same man acts voluntarily and involuntarily at the same time; which is impossible. Again, the continent man will act justly, and more so than the incontinent man. For continence is a virtue, and virtue makes men more just. A man acts continently when he acts in accordance with reasoning against desire. So, if acting justly is voluntary, as acting unjustly is (for both of these seem to be voluntary, and, if one is voluntary, the other must be also), but what is against desire is involuntary, the same man will at the same time be acting voluntarily and involuntarily. The same argument holds for spirit also. For continence and incontinence seem to concern spirit, as well as desire; and what is contrary to spirit is unpleasant, and its suppression is compelled, so that if the compelled is involuntary, what is in accordance with spirit must all be voluntary. (It is likely that Heraclitus has in view the strength of spirit when he says that the restraining of it is unpleasant. 'For it's a hard thing', he says, 'to fight against spirit; for it buys victory at the price of life.') If it is impossible for the same man to do the same thing voluntarily and involuntarily at the same time in respect of the same aspect of the situation, what is in accordance with wish is voluntary rather than what is in accordance with spirit or desire. Evidence for that is that we do many things voluntarily without either anger or desire. It remains therefore to investigate whether the wished for and the voluntary are the same thing. That too seems impossible, for it is our assumption, and seems to be the case, that vice makes people less just, and incontinence appears to be a form of vice, whereas on the assumption under discussion the opposite will follow. For no one wishes for things that he believes to be bad, yet a man who becomes incontinent does such things. If therefore acting unjustly is voluntary, and the voluntary is in accordance with wish, when a man becomes incontinent, he will no longer act unjustly, but be more just than he was before he become incontinent. And that is impossible.

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Eudemian Ethics CHAPTER 8

So it is clear that the voluntary does not consist in acting in accordance with inclination, nor is that which is against it involuntary; that it is not acting in accordance with choice either, is evident from the following considerations: what is in accordance with wish has not 1224* been shown to be involuntary; rather everything that is wished for is also voluntary. (It has been demonstrated only that it is possible to act voluntarily even in the absence of wish.) But many things that we wish to do, we do in a flash, yet no one chooses in a flash. 5 If it is necessary that the voluntary should be one of those three things, being in accordance either with inclination or choice or thought, but it is not two of them, it follows that the voluntary consists in action accompanied by thought of some kind. Now let us carry the discussion forward a little and complete the task of distinguishing the voluntary and involuntary; for it seems that the doing of something under compulsion and doing it not under compulsion are relevant to 10 what has been said: we say that what is compelled is involuntary and what is involuntary is always compelled. So we must first investigate what under compulsion is and how it is related to the voluntary and involuntary. It appears that the compelled and the forced and compulsion and force are opposed in the case of action to the voluntary and to 15 persuasion; though quite generally we speak of compulsion and force also where inanimate things are concerned: after all, we say that under compulsion, and when forced, a stone travels upwards and fire downwards. When, however, they travel according to their nature and their essential impulse, they are not said to travel under compulsion though not voluntarily either; that term of the opposition lacks a name. 20 When they travel against that impulse, we say that they do so under compulsion. Similarly, with animate things, including animals, we see them doing and undergoing many things under compulsion, when something external moves them against their internal impulse. In inanimate things the starting-point is single, in animate things there is more than one; for inclination and reason are not always in harmony. 25 So, with animals other than human beings, the compelled is all of one kind, as it is with inanimate things (they do not have reason and inclination each opposed to the other—they live by inclination); in a man, however, both elements are present, at a certain age—that, in fact, to which action also is ascribed. For we do not say that a child

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acts, or a brute either; only someone who is already doing things from reasoning. Now it appears that the compelled is always unpleasant: no one acts under compulsion, but with enjoyment. That is why the most controversy arises over the continent and the incontinent man. For each of them acts with impulses contrary to himself; so that it is by compulsion, as they say, that the continent man drags himself away from desires for pleasant things (as he feels pain, when he drags himself away, against the opposing inclination) and under compulsion the incontinent goes against reasoning. The incontinent man seems to suffer less pain, in that desire is for the pleasant, which he follows with enjoyment, and thus the incontinent man acts voluntarily rather, and not under compulsion, because it is not unpleasant. But persuasion is opposed to compulsion and force. It is towards what he has already been persuaded to do that the continent man proceeds, voluntarily, not under compulsion. Desire, on the other hand, as it has no share in reason, drives one without having persuaded. We have said that these men seem to be very close to acting under compulsion and involuntarily, and the reason for that—a certain similarity to that 'under compulsion' which we use of inanimate things also; all the same, if the further element in the earlier definition is added, the problem we have stated is solved. For when something is moved or kept at rest by something external, against the internal impulse, it is, we say, under compulsion, and when that is not so, it is not under compulsion. Now within the continent and the incontinent man it is his own impulse that drives him (for he has both tendencies); so neither is under compulsion, but, as far as the above argument goes, each would be acting voluntarily, and would not be forced to act. For we call force that external starting-point of change which impedes or generates change against impulse, as if a man seized another's hand and struck him in opposition both to wish and desire; but when the starting-point is within, it is not under compulsion. Moreover, both pleasure and pain are present in both of them. The man acting continently suffers pain in that he is even now acting against his desire, and gets enjoyment from the expectation that he will benefit in the future or from the fact that he is even now benefiting from being healthy; while the incontinent man gets enjoyment from getting what he desires when he acts incontinently, but suffers pain from an expectation, as he thinks that he will fare ill. Thus there is some reason to say that each of them acts under

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compulsion, and that because of reasoning and because of inclination each sometimes acts involuntarily; for each of those two, because they are distinct, is overcome by the other. And so, they transfer it to the whole soul when they see something of that sort among the soul's elements. In the case of the parts it is possible to say this; but the whole soul, both of the continent man and the incontinent, acts voluntarily; neither acts under compulsion, though an element in them does, given that by nature we possess both parts. For reason is among the natural starting-points, since it will be present if growth is allowed to proceed, and is not stunted; desire, too, because it is there straightaway and present from birth. And it is more or less by these two marks that we distinguish what belongs naturally: everything that is there straightaway as soon as something comes to be, and all that occurs to us if growth is allowed to proceed normally— things such as greying hair, ageing, and the like. So that each of the two men, in a way, does not act in accordance with nature, though, without qualification, each does act in accordance with it, but not the same nature in each case. These, then, are the problems over the incontinent and the continent man—whether both act under compulsion or one of them does, with the consequence that either they do not act voluntarily, or they act at the same time under compulsion and voluntarily, and that if what occurs under compulsion is involuntary, they act at the same time voluntarily and involuntarily. It is pretty evident from what has been said how we should deal with this. In another way, men are said to act under compulsion and to be forced to act though reason and inclination are not in disharmony, and when they do what they take to be both unpleasant and bad, yet, if they do not do it, flogging or imprisonment or death await them. They certainly say they are forced to do these things. Or is that not so? Do they all rather do the thing itself voluntarily. For it is open to them not to do it, but to endure the other experience. Alternatively, someone might assent to some of these things, but not to others. All things of that kind that are such that it is within someone's power whether they come about or not—even if he does things that he does not wish to do—he does voluntarily and not under compulsion; but things of that sort which are not within his power are, in a way, under compulsion, though not so without qualification, because he does not choose the actual thing that he does, but the thing for the sake of which he does it; since in these, also, there is some difference. If someone kills in order to prevent someone from catching

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hold of him, it would be absurd if he said that he did so under compul- 15 sion, and because he was forced to do it; the evil which he is going to suffer if he does not do the thing has to be greater and more unpleasant. For a man will, in this way, be acting because he is forced, and under compulsion, or not naturally at any rate, whenever he does evil for the sake of a good, or the removal of a greater evil, and he will be acting involuntarily, as those things are not within his control. That is why many classify even love as involuntary, and certain 20 cases of anger and certain natural states as being too strong for human nature; and we regard them as being pardonable, as being of such a nature as to constrain nature. And a man would appear to be acting under compulsion and involuntarily more when he does so to avoid suffering a severe pain than when he does so to avoid a slight one, and, in general, more when he does so to avoid pain than when he does so to get enjoyment. For what is in one's power, on which the whole issue 25 turns, is what one's nature is able to withstand. And what it is not able to withstand, and is not within the scope of one's natural inclination or reasoning, is not in one's power. That is why even with those who are possessed by divine inspiration, and utter prophecies, though they produce a work of thought, we say that it was not under their control to 30 say what they said or do what they did. Nor is it done as a result of desire. Hence certain thoughts and certain affections—or rather the actions that occur in accordance with such thoughts and calculationsare not under our control. As Philolaos said, some reasonings are stronger than we are. So, if it was necessary to examine the voluntary and involuntary in relation to what is under compulsion, let them be 35 distinguished in this way. CHAPTER 9

Now that that discussion is complete, and the voluntary has been defined neither by inclination nor by choice, it remains to define what 1225* in accordance with thought is. The voluntary seems to be the opposite of the involuntary, and acting knowing either whom or with what or for what result—thus sometimes a man knows that it is his father, but not that he is aiming to kill him, but instead thinks that he is acting to save him, as in the case of the daughters of Pelias, or he thinks that this is a drink, but in fact it was a love potion, or that it is wine when it was 5 aconite—is opposed to acting in ignorance of whom and with what and what, because of ignorance, not incidentally; but what is done because

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of ignorance of what and with what and whom, is involuntary; so its opposite is voluntary. So whatever a man does—not in ignorance, and through his own agency—when it is in his power not to do it, must be voluntary, and that is what the voluntary is; but what he does in ignorance and because of ignorance, he does involuntarily. But since knowing and understanding is of two kinds, one having and the other using knowledge, the man who has knowledge but does not use it could in a way rightly be said to have acted in ignorance, but in another way not; for example, if he failed to use his knowledge because of negligence. Likewise, too, someone would be blamed even if he did not have it, if it is what was easy or essential that he fails to have because of negligence or pleasure or pain. So let these things be added to the definition. C H A P T E R 10

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Let this be enough on the distinction between the voluntary and the involuntary; let us now say something about choice, after raising problems in argument about it. For one might hesitate about the genus in which it belongs and where to place it, and about whether the chosen is or is not the same as the voluntary. In particular, some people say—and on examination it would seem to be the case—that choice is one of two things, either opinion or inclination; for both of those things appear to accompany choice. However, that it is not inclination is clear; for it would then be wish or desire or spirit, since no one has an inclination without experiencing one of those. Now spirit and desire belong even to brutes, but choice does not. Further, even in the case of those to whom both these things belong, they make many choices without either spirit or desire; and when men are subject to affections, they are not choosing but are resisting the affections. Again, desire and spirit are always accompanied by pain, but we make many choices without pain. Nor is wish the same thing as choice, either. For men knowingly wish for some things that are impossible, such as to rule over the whole of mankind and to be immortal, whereas no one chooses them unless he is ignorant of their impossibility, nor, in general, those things that are possible, but which he does not believe are within his power to do or not to do. So one thing is clear, that the chosen must be one of the things within the agent's power. Similarly, it is evident that it is not opinion either, nor quite

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generally something that someone believes; the chosen was found to be something in one's own power, but we opine many things that are not in our power, for example that the diagonal is incommensurable. Again, choice is not true or false. Nor therefore is it an opinion about the things in one's own power, that whereby we in fact believe that we should or should not do something. This point holds alike of opinion and of wish: no one chooses an end, only the things that contribute to the end. I mean, for example, no one chooses to be healthy, rather he chooses to walk or to sit with a view to health, nor again to be happy, but rather to engage in commerce or take a risk with a view to being happy; and in general a man evidently always chooses something, and chooses for the sake of something; and the second is that for the sake of which he chooses something else, and the first, what he chooses for the sake of another thing. It is the end, above all, that he wishes for, and he judges that he ought to be healthy and to act well. Thus it is clear from these considerations that choice is different both from opinion and from wish. For wish and opinion are pre-eminently of the end, choice is not. It is evident, then, that choice is not wish or judgement or opinion of any kind. How does it differ from those, and how is it related to the voluntary? It will then be evident also what choice is. Among the things that can either be or not be, some are such that it is possible to deliberate about them; about some it is not possible. For some are capable either of being or not being, yet their coming to be is not in our power, but, some come to be naturally, others on account of other causes. About such things no one would attempt to deliberate unless in ignorance. Those things, however, which are such that not only can they either be or not be, but also men can deliberate about them, are those which are within our power to do or not do. Thus we do not deliberate about affairs in India, nor how the circle is to be squared; for the former of those is not in our power, the latter not realizable by action at all, whereas things that are chosen and realizable are among those that are in our power. But nor do we deliberate about all the things that are in our power—and that makes it evident also that choice is not any sort of opinion either. This might lead someone to be puzzled about why doctors deliberate about things that fall under the science that they possess, but scribes do not. The reason is that errors occur in two ways (we err either in calculation or in perception when actually doing the thing); in medicine it is possible to make a mistake in both ways, whereas in the case of a scribe's skill,

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it is possible only in perception and action, and if they reflect upon that, there will be no end to it. Since, then, choice is not either opinion or wish, neither one of them nor both (no one chooses in a flash, but it seems that men act— and wish—in a flash), it must result from both of these; for both of them occur in one who chooses. But we must investigate how it results from these. To some extent the word 'choice' itself shows us. Choice (prohairesis) is a taking (hairesis), but not without qualification—a taking of one thing before (pro) another; that is not possible without examination and deliberation. So choice comes from deliberative belief. No one deliberates about the end—that is there for everyone; men deliberate about the things that lead towards it, whether this or that contributes to its attainment, or else, when that has been decided, how it will come about. We all continue deliberating until we carry the starting-point of the process of change back to ourselves. If, then, no one makes a choice without preliminary deliberation on whether it would be better or worse to act thus, and one deliberates about the things, among those that are capable of being or not being, that are in our power and lead towards the end, it is evident that choice is deliberative inclination for that which is in our power. For we all deliberate about those things that we also choose, though we do not choose all the things that we deliberate about (by a 'deliberative' inclination, I mean one whose starting-point and cause is deliberation, and our inclination results from deliberation). So choice is not present in other animals, nor at every time of life, nor in a human being no matter what state he is in; for deliberation is not, either, nor an opinion about the why; an opinion about whether something should be done or not may well be present to many people, though not through reasoning. For that part of the soul is deliberative which is capable of discerning a cause: the reason for the sake of which—which is one of the causes—'cause' being something becauseof-which. And we say that that for the sake of which something is or comes to be is a cause—for instance, the carrying of goods is a cause of walking if it is for the sake of that that a man walks. That is why those who have no goal before them are not in a position to deliberate. So that, since a man voluntarily does or abstains from doing that which is in his power to do or not to do if it is through his own agency and not in ignorance that he acts or abstains from acting—we do many

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things of that sort not after deliberation and without premeditation—it follows that what is chosen is all voluntary, but what is voluntary is not all chosen, and everything done from choice is voluntary, but what is 35 voluntary is not all from choice. These considerations make this clear, and at the same time the fact that legislators are right to distinguish some deeds as voluntary and others as involuntary and others as premeditated; for even if they are not wholly correct, they are on to the 1227* truth in a way. About this we shall be saying something in the examination of justice. But it is evident that choice is neither simply wish nor opinion, but opinion together with inclination, whenever as a result of delibera- 5 tion they are brought to a conclusion. Since one who deliberates always deliberates with something in view, and there is always some goal with reference to which he inquires what is useful, no one deliberates about the end, this being a starting-point and hypothesis, like hypotheses in the theoretical sciences (a little was said about them at the start of our discussion, and 10 they are treated in detail in the Analytics), but everyone's investigation, whether he is using some expertise or not, is about what contributes to the end—for example, those deliberating whether to go to war or not. But before the process begins there will be that because of which, i.e. that for whose sake— for example, wealth or pleasure or whatever else 15 of that kind happens to be thatfor whose sake. For one who deliberates, if he has carried his inquiry back from the end, deliberates about what contributes to it, in order to bring the process back to himself, or what he can do himself towards the end. The end is naturally always good, the good they deliberate about in a particular application: the doctor would deliberate whether to administer a drug, and the general where to set up his camp, and to 20 them the end, what is best without qualification, is good; what is against nature, on the other hand, and involves corruption is not the good, but the apparent good. The reason is that it is not possible to use some of the things that there are except for what they naturally exist for—sight for example; it is not possible to see what is not an object of sight, nor hear what is not an object of hearing; but it is possible to 25 produce, by means of a science, that which is not what the science is a science of. For the same science is not a science of disease in the same way as it is the science of health; it is the science of one in accordance with nature, of the other against nature. Similarly, too, wish is naturally of the good, but also, against nature, of the bad, and one

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naturally wishes for the good, but, against nature, and through corruption, also for the bad. However, the destruction and corruption of anything is not into any arbitrary state, but into the opposite ones and the intermediates on the way to them. For it is impossible to get outside these, as error also, when it occurs, takes place into the opposite state, where there is one, not into any arbitrary state, and to those opposite states that are opposed with respect to the knowledge. So both the error and the choice must be from the mean towards the opposites (and more and less are opposed to the mean). The cause is the pleasant and the unpleasant; for the situation is that the pleasant appears good to the soul, and the pleasanter better, the unpleasant bad, and the more unpleasant worse. So from this, too, it is evident that virtue and vice have to do with pleasures and pains. They are in fact concerned wth things chosen, and choice has to do with the good and bad, and what appears thus, and such, naturally, are pleasure and pain. So it follows, since virtue of character itself is a mean state and always concerned with pleasures and pains, while vice lies in excess and deficiency, and has to do with the same things as virtue, that virtue is that state of character which chooses the mean, relative to us, in things pleasant and unpleasant, all those in respect of which a man is said to have a certain sort of character according as he enjoys them or suffers pain from them. (For the man who is fond of sweet things, or the one fond of bitter ones, is not said to be a certain sort of person in regard to character)

BOOK VIII CHAPTER 2

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Since not only do practical wisdom and virtue produce welfare, but we say also that the fortunate prosper, as if good fortune produces welfare and the same things that knowledge does, we must inquire whether it is by nature that one man is unfortunate, another fortunate, and how the matter stands in regard to these men. For, that some people are fortunate we see: though foolish, many people are successful in matters in which luck is decisive, others also in matters in which skill is involved, but there is a large element of luck, for example in generalship and navigation. Is it then because of some

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state that these men are fortunate, or is it not through being themselves of a certain kind that they score successes? For, as things are, that is what people think—as if some are fortunate by nature, and nature makes some people to be of a certain sort, and those are 10 different right from birth and, just as some people are blue-eyed and others black-eyed through being necessarily thus because of being such-and-such a kind, so are people fortunate and unfortunate. For that it is not by practical wisdom that they succeed, is evident. For practical wisdom is not irrational but has a principle on account of which it acts thus and so, but these people would not be able to say 15 why they succeed; for if they could, it would be skill. For it is clear that, being foolish—not that they are so about other things—that would be not at all strange (Hippocrates, for example, was a geometer, but in other matters he seemed to be stupid and foolish, and when he sailed he was cheated of much money by the customs men in Byzantium, as a result of unworldliness, as they say)—but that they are 20 foolish even about those matters in which they enjoy good fortune. For in navigation, it is not the most skilful who are fortunate, but, as in dice-throwing, one man scores nothing, another throws a naturally fortunate man's throw. Or is it through being favoured, as they say, by a god and because the source of success is external, in the way that a 25 ship badly constructed often sails better, though not because of itself but because it has a good steersman? However, in that way the fortunate man has the divine being as a good steersman, but it is strange that a god or divine being should favour such a man, rather than the best and the wisest. So if success must come about either by nature or 30 intelligence or some guidance, and it is not two of these, the fortunate must be so by nature. Nature, however, is the cause of what occurs in the same way always or for the most part, whereas luck is the opposite. So if to prosper contrary to expectation seems to belong to luck—but if someone is fortunate, he is so by luck—the cause would not seem to be the sort of thing that is the cause of what is always, or usually, the same. Further, 35 if it is because he is of such-and-such a sort that a man prospers or comes to grief, just as it is because a man is blue-eyed that he does not see clearly, then luck is not the cause, but nature; so he is not fortunate, but, as it were, naturally well endowed. Thus what we ought to say is that those whom we call fortunate are not so by luck. They are not, therefore, fortunate; it is those for whom good luck is a cause of goods that are fortunate. i247b

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If that is so, will luck not exist at all, or will it exist, but not be a cause? In fact, it must both exist and be a cause. It will therefore also be a cause of good things, or bad, for some people. Whether we must eliminate it altogether, and say that nothing happens by luck, though we, when there is some other cause, because we do not see it, say that luck is a cause—that is why, when they define luck, they lay down that luck is a cause not open to reasoning by human calculation as if it were some nature—that, however, would be another problem. Since we see some people enjoying good fortune once, why should they not succeed again, for the same reason, and yet again? For the same thing has the same cause. So this will not belong to luck. But when the same thing results from causes that are indefinite and indeterminate, it may be a good thing or a bad thing for someone, but there will be no knowledge of it, knowledge from experience, as otherwise some people could learn to be fortunate, or indeed all forms of knowledge would, as Socrates said, be forms of good fortune. What, then, prevents such things from befalling someone many times in succession, not because he is of such-and-such a sort, but as it would be always to make lucky throws of the dice? What follows then? Are there not impulses in the soul, some issuing from reasoning, others from non-rational inclination, and are not those, at least by nature, prior? For if by nature our desire is an inclination for the pleasant, by nature, at any rate, all our desires proceed towards the good. So, if some people are naturally well endowed (as untaught singers, who lack knowledge of how to sing, are well endowed in that respect) and, without reason, are impelled in accordance with nature, and desire both what they ought and when they ought and as they ought—these people will succeed even if they are actually foolish and unreasoning, as men may actually sing well who are not capable of teaching it; but certainly it is such men who are fortunate—men who succeed most of the time without reasoning. It is therefore by nature that the fortunate are fortunate. Or is good fortune so called in several ways? For some things are done from impulse, and when people have chosen to do them, some are not—the opposite holds. And in those cases, if they succeed in circumstances in which they seem to reason badly, we say that they have had good fortune; and again in those cases, if they wanted another good, or a smaller one, than they got. With those people therefore, it is possible that they have good fortune as a result of nature; for the impulse and the inclination, being for what was

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required, prospered, though the reasoning was idle. And these people, when reasoning appears not to be correct, but in fact desire is the cause of it, are rescued because the desire is correct. (And yet, on some occasions, from desire a man reasoned thus—and came to grief.) But in the other cases, how can there be good fortune in accordance with a good natural endowment of inclination and desire? But then either good fortune both in this case and in that are the same, or there is more than one form of good fortune, and luck is of two kinds. Since we see some people having good fortune contrary to every sort of knowledge and correct reasonings, it is evident that something else is the cause of the good fortune. But is that good fortune? Or is it not, if a man desires the things he should and when he should, a man for whom human calculation, at any rate, is not the cause of this? For that for which indeed the desire is natural is not altogether without reason, but it is distorted by something; however, he seems to have good fortune, because luck is a cause of things contrary to reason, and that is contrary to reason, since it is contrary to knowledge and the universal. But, as it seems, it is not by luck, but appears to be for this reason. So this argument does not demonstrate that people have good fortune by nature, but that not all who seem to have good fortune prosper by luck, and not through nature; nor that luck is not a cause of anything, but that it is not a cause of all the things it seems to be. The question might be raised 'Is luck the cause of this very thing— desiring what one should or when one should?' Or will luck in that way be the cause of everything? For it will be the cause both of thinking and deliberating; for a man who deliberates has not deliberated already before deliberating—there is a certain starting-point. Nor did he think, after thinking already before thinking, and so on to infinity. Intelligence, therefore, is not the starting-point of thinking, nor is counsel the starting-point of deliberation. So what else is there save luck? Thus everything will be by luck. Or is there some starting-point beyond which there is no other, and this—because it is essentially of such a sort—can have such an effect? But what is being sought is this: What is the starting-point of change in the soul? It is now evident: as it is a god that moves in the whole universe, so it is in the soul; for, in a sense, the divine element in us moves everything; but the startingpoint of reason is not reason but something superior. What then could be superior to knowledge and intelligence but a god? For virtue is an instrument of intelligence. And for that reason, as I was saying earlier, they are called fortunate

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who succeed in what they initiate though they lack reason. And it is of no use for them to deliberate; for they possess such a starting-point as is superior to intelligence and deliberation (others have reason but do not have this), and a divine inspiration, but cannot do this; for, though unreasoning, they succeed . . . that the power of prophecy of those who are wise and clever is swift, and, one should suppose, not only what results from reasoning. But some through experience, others through familiarity with employing the god in inquiry... see well what is to be and what is the case, and those whose reason is thus disengaged; thus those of a melancholic temperament also have vivid dreams. For the starting-point seems to be stronger when reason is disengaged, just as blind people remember better, because the remembering element is better when that concerned with visible things is disengaged. It is clear, then, that there are two sorts of good fortune, the one divine—hence it actually seems that the fortunate man owes his success to a god. This man is the o.ne who is successful in accordance with impulse; the other is so contrary to impulse; but both are nonrational. It is this one form of good fortune rather, that is continuous; the latter form is not continuous. CHAPTER 3

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We have spoken earlier about each virtue individually; but since we have distinguished and separated their capacity, we must also articulate the virtue that results from them, which we now call nobility. Now it is clear that the man who is truly to meet this appellation must have the individual virtues. For it cannot be otherwise in other cases, either. For no one is healthy in his body as a whole, yet not in any part of it; rather, all parts, or most and the most important, must be in the same state as the whole. Being good and being fine-and-good admit of distinction, not only in their names but also in themselves. For, of all goods, those are ends which are worth having for their own sake, while, of these, all that are commended for themselves are fine. For of these things it is true that the actions from them are commended and they are themselves commended—justice, both itself and the actions from it, and those who are temperate; for temperance is also commended. But health is not something commended; for neither is its function. Nor is acting with strength, for strength is not, either. But, though they are not commended, they are goods.

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Likewise, this is clear in other cases also, by induction. Now a good man is one for whom the natural goods are goods. For the things that are competed for and seem to be the greatest goods, honour and wealth and bodily excellences and good fortune and capacities, are naturally good, but may be harmful for some because of their states of character. For neither a foolish nor an unjust or intemperate man would get any benefit from using them, just as neither will the sick man using the food of the healthy, nor would the weak and deformed using the adornments of the sound and whole person. A person is fineand-good because, among goods, those that are fine for themselves belong to him, and because he is a practiser of fine things, and for their own sake. Fine things are the virtues and the deeds resulting from virtue. There is a certain state of a citizen such as the Spartans have, or other such people would have. This is a state of the following sort: there are those who think that one should possess virtue, but for the sake of the natural goods. They are therefore good men (for natural goods are so for them), but they do not have nobility. For they do not possess the things that are fine for themselves, but those who possess them also choose things fine-and-good, and not only those things, but also the things not fine by nature, but good by nature, are fine for them. For they are fine when the things for whose sake they act and choose are fine. So, for the fine-and-good man, the natural goods are fine. For what is just is fine; and that is what is in accord with desert; and this man deserves these things. And what is fitting is fine; and these things befit this man,—wealth, noble birth, power. So, to the fine-and-good man, the beneficial things themselves, too, are also fine; but for the many there is a divergence here. For the things good without qualification are not good also for them, but are good for the good man. But to the fine-and-good man they are also fine. For he does many fine actions because of them. But the man who thinks that the virtues should be possessed for the sake of external goods, does the fine things incidentally. So nobility is complete virtue. Concerning pleasure, too, it has been said what sort of thing it is and how it is a good, and that the things pleasant without qualification are also fine, and the things good without qualification are pleasant. But pleasure does not occur except in action; for that reason, the tru'v happy man will also live most pleasantly, and it is not for nothing that people believe this. Now there is some limit also for the doctor, by reference to which he

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judges what is healthy for a body and what is not, and by reference to which each thing is to be done up to a certain amount, and is healthy, but is not so if less or more is done. So too for the virtuous man, with respect to his actions and choices of the things naturally good but not commended, there must be some limit both for the possession and the choice and avoidance of abundance and exiguousness of material goods and of successes. Now as principle prescribes is what was said earlier. But that is as if, in matters of nutrition, someone were to say, as medicine and its principle prescribes. But that, though true, is not clear.

So it is needful, as in other cases, to live by reference to the governing thing, and by reference to the state and activity of what governs, as a slave to the rule of the master and each thing to its appropriate governing principle. But since a human being, also, is by nature composed of a thing that governs and a thing that is governed, each too should live by reference to its own governing principle. But that is of two sorts; for medicine is a governing principle in one way, and health in another; for the first is for the sake of the second. Thus it is with the speculative part. For the god is a governor not in a prescriplive fashion, but it is that for which practical wisdom prescribes (but that for which is of two sorts—they have been distinguished elsewhere—since the god is in need of nothing). So if some choice and possession of natural goods—either goods of the body or money or friends or the other goods—will most produce the speculation of the god, that is the best, and that is the finest limit; but whatever, whether through deficiency or excess, hinders the service and speculation of the god, is bad. Thus it is for the soul, and this is the best limit for the soul—to be aware as little as possible of the non-rational part of the soul as'such. But let what has been said be enough on the limit cf nobility, and what the goal is of things good without qualification.

POLITICS* BOOK I CHAPTER I

Observation tells us that every state is an association, and that every 1252' association is formed with a view to some good purpose. I say 'good', because in all their actions all men do in fact aim at what they think good. Clearly then, as all associations aim at some good, that association which is the most sovereign among them all and embraces all others will aim highest, i.e. at the most sovereign of all goods. This is 5 the association which we call the state, the association which is 'political'. It is an error to suppose, as some do, that the roles of a statesman, of a king, of a household-manager and of a master of slaves are the same, on the ground that they differ not in kind but only in point of numbers of persons—that a master of slaves, for example, has to do with a few 10 people, a household-manager with more, and a statesman or king with more still, as if there were no differences between a large household and a small state. They also reckon that when one person is in personal control over the rest he has the role of a king, whereas when he takes his turn at ruling and at being ruled according to the 15 principles of the science concerned, he is a statesman. But these assertions are false. This will be quite evident if we examine the matter according to our established method. We have to analyse other composite things till they can be subdivided no further; let us in the same way examine the 20 component parts of the state and we shall see better how these too differ from each other, and whether we can acquire any systematic knowledge about the several roles mentioned.

* Translation: T. A. Sinclair and T. J. Saunders (Penguin Classics, Harmondsworth, 1981); Text: W. D. Ross (Oxford Classical Texts, 1957).

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We shall, I think, in this as in other subjects, get the best view of the matter if we look at the natural growth of things from the beginning. The first point is that those which are incapable of existing without each other must be united as a pair. For example, the union of male and female is essential for reproduction; and this is not a matter of choice, but is due to the natural urge, which exists in the other animals too and in plants, to propagate one's kind. Equally essential is the combination of the natural ruler and ruled, for the purpose of preservation. For the element that can use its intelligence to look ahead is by nature ruler and by nature master, while that which has the bodily strength to do the actual work is by nature a slave, one of those who are ruled. Thus there is a common interest uniting master and slave. Nature, then, has distinguished between female and slave: she recognizes different functions and lavishly provides different tools, not an all-purpose tool like the Delphic knife; for every instrument will be made best if it serves not many purposes but one. But nonGreeks assign to female and slave exactly the same status. This is because they have nothing which is by nature fitted to rule; their association consists of a male slave and a female slave. So, as the poets say, 'It is proper that Greeks should rule non-Greeks', the implication being that non-Greek and slave are by nature identical. Thus it was out of the association formed by men with these two, women and slaves, that a household was first formed; and the poet Hesiod was right when he wrote, 'Get first a house and a wife and an ox to draw the plough.' (The ox is the poor man's slave.) This association of persons, established according to nature for the satisfaction of daily needs, is the household, the members of which Charondas calls 'bread-fellows', and Epimenides the Cretan 'stable-companions'. The next stage is the village, the first association of a number of houses for the satisfaction of something more than daily needs. It comes into being through the processes of nature in the fullest sense, as offshoots of a household are set up by sons and grandsons. The members of such a village are therefore called by some 'homogalactic'.1 This is why states were at first ruled by kings, as are foreign nations to this day: they were formed from constituents which were themselves under kingly rule. For every household is ruled by its 1 I.e.'sucklings of the same milk'.

Book I, Chapter 2

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senior member, as by a king, and the offshoots too, because of their blood relationship, are ruled in the same way. This kind of rule is mentioned in Homer: 'Each man has power of law over children and wives.' He is referring to scattered settlements, which were common in primitive times. For this reason the gods too are said to be governed by a king—namely because men themselves were originally ruled by kings and some are so still. Just as men imagine gods in human shape, so they imagine their way of life to be like that of men. The final association, formed of several villages, is the state. For all practical purposes the process is now complete; self-sufficiency has been reached, and while the state came about as a means of securing life itself, it continues in being to secure the good life. Therefore every state exists by nature, as the earlier associations too were natural. This association is the end of those others, and nature is itself an end; for whatever is the end-product of the coming into existence of any object, that is what we call its nature—of a man, for instance, or a horse or a household. Moreover the aim and the end is perfection; and selfsufficiency is both end and perfection. It follows that the state belongs to the class of objects which exist by nature, and that man is by nature a political animal. Anyone who by his nature and not simply by ill luck has no state is either too bad or too good, either subhuman or superhuman—he is like the war-mad man condemned in Homer's words as 'having no family, no law, no home'; for he who is such by nature is mad on war: he is a noncooperator like an isolated piece in a game of draughts. But obviously man is a political animal in a sense in which a bee is not, or any other gregarious animal. Nature, as we say, does nothing without some purpose; and she has endowed man alone among the animals with the power of speech. Speech is something different from voice, which is possessed by other animals also and used by them to express pain or pleasure; for their nature does indeed enable them not only to feel pleasure and pain but to communicate these feelings to each other. Speech, on the other hand serves to indicate what is useful and what is harmful, and so also what is just and what is unjust. For the real difference between man and other animals is that humans alone have perception of good and evil, just and unjust, etc. It is the sharing of a common view in these matters that makes a household and a state. Furthermore, the state has priority over the household and over any individual among us. For the whole must be prior to the part. Separate

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hand or foot from the whole body, and they will no longer be a hand or foot except in name, as one might speak of a 'hand' or 'foot' sculptured in stone. That will be the condition of the spoilt hand, which no longer has the capacity and the function which define it. So, though we may say they have the same names, we cannot say that they are, in that condition, the same things. It is clear then that the state is both natural and prior to the individual. For if an individual is not fully selfsufficient after separation, he will stand in the same relationship to the whole as the parts in the other case do. Whatever is incapable of participating in the association which we call the state, a dumb animal for example, and equally whatever is perfectly self-sufficient and has no need to (e.g. a god), is not a part of the state at all. Among all men, then, there is a natural impulse towards this kind of association; but the first man to construct a state deserves credit for conferring very great benefits. For as man is the best of all animals when he has reached his full development, so he is worst of all when divorced from law and justice. Injustice armed is hardest to deal with; and though man is born with weapons which he can use in the service of practical wisdom and virtue, it is all too easy for him to use them for the opposite purposes. Hence man without virtue is the most savage, the most unrighteous, and the worst in regard to sexual licence and gluttony. The virtue of justice is a feature of a state; for justice is the arrangement of the political association, and a sense of justice decides what is just. CHAPTER 3

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Now that I have explained what the component parts of a state are, and since every state consists of households, it is essential to begin with household-management. This topic can be subdivided so as to correspond to the parts of which a complete household is made up, namely, the free and the slaves; but our method requires us to examine everything when it has been reduced to its smallest parts, and the smallest division of a household into parts gives three pairs—master and slave, husband and wife, father and children. And so we must ask ourselves what each one of these three relationships is, and what sort of thing it ought to be. The word 'mastership' is used to describe the first, and we may use 'matrimonial' (in the case of the union of man and woman), and 'paternal' to describe the other two, as there is no more specific term for either. We may accept these three; but we find that

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there is a fourth element, which some people regard as covering the whole of household-management, others as its most important part; and our task is to consider its position. I refer to what is called 'the acquisition of wealth'. First let us discuss master and slave, in order to see how they bear on the provision of essential services, and whether we can find a better 15 way towards understanding this topic than if we started from the suppositions usually made. For example, some people suppose that being a master requires a certain kind of knowledge, and that this is the same knowledge as is required to manage a household or to be a statesman or a king—an error which we discussed at the beginning. Others say that it is contrary to nature to rule as master over slave, 20 because the distinction between slave and free is one of convention only, and in nature there is no difference, so that this form of rule is based on force and is therefore not just. CHAPTER 4

Now property is part of a household, and the acquisition of property part of household-management; for neither life itself nor the good life 25 is possible without a certain minimum supply of the necessities. Again, in any special skill the availability of the proper tools will be essential for the performance of the task; and the household-manager must have his likewise. Tools may be animate as well as inanimate; for instance, a ship's captain uses a lifeless rudder, but a living man for watch; for a servant is, from the point of view of his craft, categorized 30 as one of its tools. So any piece of property can be regarded as a tool enabling a man to live, and his property is an assemblage of such tools; a slave is a sort of living piece of property; and like any other servant is a tool in charge of other tools. For suppose that every tool we had could perform its task, either at our bidding or itself perceiving the need, and if—like the statues made by Daedalus or the tripods of 35 Hephaestus, of which the poet says that self-moved they enter the assembly of the gods —shuttles in a loom could fly to and fro and a plucker play a lyre all self-moved, then master-craftsmen would have no need of servants nor masters of slaves. Tools in the ordinary sense are productive tools, whereas a piece of property is meant for action. I mean, for example, a shuttle produces

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something other than its own use, a bed or a garment does not. Moreover, since production and action differ in kind and both require tools, the difference between their tools too must be of the same kind. Now life is action and not production; therefore the slave, a servant, is one of the tools that minister to action. A piece of property is spoken of in the same way as a part is; for a part is not only part of something but belongs to it toutcourt; and so too does a piece of property. So a slave is not only his master's slave but belongs to him tout court, while the master is his slave's master but does not belong to him. These considerations will have shown what the nature and functions of the slave are: any human being that by nature belongs not to himself but to another is by nature a slave; and a human being belongs to another whenever, in spite of being a man, he is a piece of property, i.e. a tool having a separate existence and meant for action. CHAPTER 5

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But whether anyone does in fact by nature answer to this description, and whether or not it is a just and a better thing for one man to be a slave to another, or whether all slavery is contrary to nature—these are the questions which must be considered next. Neither theoretical discussion nor empirical observation presents any difficulty. That one should command and another obey is both necessary and expedient. Indeed some things are so divided right from birth, some to rule, some to be ruled. There are many different forms of this ruler-ruled relationship, and the quality of the rule depends primarily on the quality of the subjects, rule over man being better than rule over animals; for that which is produced by better men is a better piece of work; and the ruler-ruled relationship is itself a product created by the men involved in it. For wherever there is a combination of elements, continuous or discontinuous, and a common unity is the result, in all such cases the ruler-ruled relationship appears. It appears notably in living creatures as a consequence of their whole nature (and it can exist also where there is no life, as dominance in a musical scale, but that is hardly relevant here). The living creature consists in the first place of mind and body, and of these the former is ruler by nature, the latter ruled. Now we must always look for nature's own norm in things whose condition is according to nature, and not base our observations

Book I, Chapter 5

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on degenerate forms. We must therefore in this connection consider the man who is in good condition mentally and physically, one in whom the rule of mind over body is conspicuous—because the bad and unnatural condition of a permanently or temporarily depraved iz54b person will often give the impression that his body is ruling over his soul. However that may be, it is, as I say, within living creatures that we first find it possible to see both the rule of a master and that of a statesman. The rule of soul over body is like a master's rule, while the rule of intelligence over desire is like a statesman's or a king's. In these 5 relationships it is clear that it is both natural and expedient for the body to be ruled by the soul, and for the emotional part of our natures to be ruled by the mind, the part which possesses reason. The reverse, or even parity, would be fatal all round. This is also true as between man and the other animals; for tame animals are by nature better than 10 wild, and it is better for them all to be ruled by men, because it secures their safety. Again, as between male and female the former is by nature superior and ruler, the latter inferior and subject. And this must hold good of mankind in general. 15 Therefore whenever there is the same wide discrepancy between human beings as there is between soul and body or between man and beast, then those whose condition is such that their function is the use of their bodies and nothing better can be expected of them, those, I say, are slaves by nature. It is better for them, just as in the cases 20 mentioned, to be ruled thus. For the 'slave by nature' is he that can and therefore does belong to another, and he that participates in reason so far as to recognize it but not so as to possess it (whereas the other animals obey not reason but emotions). The use made of slaves hardly differs at all from that of tame animals: they both help with their 25 bodies to supply our essential needs. It is then part of nature's intention to make the bodies of free men to differ from those of slaves, the latter strong enough to be used for necessary tasks, the former erect and useless for that kind of work, but well suited for the life of a citizen 30 of a state, a life which is in turn divided between the requirements of war and peace. But the opposite often occurs: people who have the right kind of bodily physique for free men, but not the soul, others who have the right soul but not the body. This much is clear: suppose that there were men whose bodily physique showed the same superiority as is 35 shown by the statues of gods, then all would agree that the rest of

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mankind would deserve to be their slaves. And if this is true in relation to physical superiority, the distinction would be even more justly made in respect of superiority of soul; but it is much more difficult to see beauty of soul than it is to see beauty of body. It is clear then that by nature some are free, others slaves, and that for these it is both just and expedient that they should serve as slaves. CHAPTER 6

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On the other hand it is not hard to see that those who take opposing views are also right up to a point. The expressions 'state of slavery' and 'slave' have a double connotation: there exists also a legal slave and state of slavery. The law in question is a kind of convention which provides that all that is conquered in war is termed the property of the conquerors. Against this right many of those versed in law bring a charge analogous to that of 'illegality' brought against an orator: they hold it to be indefensible that a man who has been overpowered by the violence and superior might of another should become his property. Others see no harm in this; and both views are held by experts. The reason for this difference of opinion, and for the overlap in the arguments used, lies in the fact that in a way it is virtue, when it acquires resources, that is best able actually to use force; and in the fact that anything which conquers does so because it excels in some good. It seems therefore that force is not without virtue, and that the only dispute is about what is just. Consequently some think that 'just' in this connection is a nonsense, others that it means precisely this, that 'the stronger shall rule'. But when these propositions are disentangled, the other arguments have no validity or power to show that the superior in virtue ought not to rule and be master. Some take a firm stand (as they conceive it) on 'justice' in the sense of 'law', and claim that enslavement in war is just, simply as being legal; but they simultaneously deny it, since it is quite possible that undertaking the war may have been unjust in the first place. Also one cannot use the term 'slave' properly of one who is undeserving of being a slave; otherwise we should find among slaves and descendants of slaves even men of the noblest birth, should any of them be captured and sold. For this reason they will not apply the term slave to such people but use it only for non-Greeks. But in so doing they are really seeking to define the slave by nature, which was our startingpoint; for one has to admit that there are some who are slaves every-

Book I, Chapters 6—7

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where, others who are slaves nowhere. And the same is true of noble birth: nobles regard themselves as of noble birth not only among their own people but everywhere, and they allow nobility of birth of nonGreeks to be valid only in non-Greek lands. This involves making two grades of free status and noble birth, one absolute, the other con- 35 ditional. (In a play by Theodectes, Helen is made to say, 'Who would think it proper to call me a slave, who am sprung of divine lineage on both sides?') But in introducing this point they are really basing the distinction between slave and free, noble-born and base-born, upon virtue and vice. For they maintain that as man is born of man, and i255b beast of beast, so good is born of good. But frequently, though this may be nature's intention, she is unable to realize it. It is clear then that there is justification for the difference of opinion: while it is not invariably true that slaves are slaves by nature 5 and others free, yet this distinction does in some cases actually prevail—cases where it is expedient for the one to be master, the other to be the slave. Whereas the one must be ruled, the other should exercise the rule for which he is fitted by nature, thus being the master. For if the work of being a master is badly done, that is contrary to the interest of both parties; for the part and the whole, the soul and the 10 body, have identical interests; and the slave is in a sense a part of his master, a living but separate part of his body. For this reason there is an interest in common and a feeling of friendship between master and slave, wherever they are by nature fitted for this relationship; but not when the relationship arises out of the use of force and by the law which we have been discussing. I5 CHAPTER 7 From all this it is clear that there is a difference between the rule of master over slave and the rule of a statesman. All forms of rule are not the same though some say that they are. Rule over naturally free men is different from rule over natural slaves; rule in a household is monarchical, since every house has one ruler; the rule of a statesman is rule over free and equal persons. A man is not called master in virtue of what he knows but simply in virtue of the kind of person he is; similarly with slave and free. Still, there could be such a thing as a master's knowledge or a slave's knowledge. The latter kind may be illustrated by the lessons given by a certain man in Syracuse who, for a fee, trained houseboys in their

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ordinary duties; and this kind of instruction might well be extended to include cookery and other forms of domestic service. For the tasks of the various slaves differ, some being more essential, some more highly valued (as the proverb has it 'slave before slave, master before master'). All such fields of knowledge are the business of slaves, whereas a master's knowledge consists in knowing how to put his slaves to use; for it is not in his acquiring of slaves but in his use of them that he is master. But the use of slaves is not a form of knowledge that has any great importance or dignity, since it consists in knowing how to direct slaves to do the tasks which they ought to know how to do. Hence those masters whose means are sufficient to exempt them from the bother employ an overseer to take on this duty, while they devote themselves to statecraft or philosophy. The knowledge of how to acquire slaves is different from both these, the just method of acquisition, for instance, being a kind of military or hunting skill. So much may suffice to define master and slave.

BOOK III CHAPTER I b

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In considering now the varieties and characteristics of constitutions, we must begin by looking at the state and asking what it is. There is no unanimity about this; for example, some say that an action was taken by the state, others that it was taken not by the state, but by the oligarchy or by the dictator. Now obviously the activities of statesman and legislator are wholly concerned with the state, and the constitution is a kind of organization of the state's inhabitants; but like any other whole that is made up of many parts, the state is to be classed as a composite thing; so clearly we must first try to isolate the citizen, for the state is an aggregate of citizens. So we must ask, Who is a citizen? and, Whom should we call one? Here too there is no unanimity, no agreement as to what constitutes a citizen; it often happens that one who is a citizen in a democracy is not a citizen in an oligarchy. (I think we may leave out of account those who merely acquire the title indirectly, e.g. the 'made' citizens.) Nor does mere residence in a place confer citizenship: resident foreigners and slaves are not citizens, but do share domicile in the country.

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Another definition is 'those who have access to legal processes, who may prosecute or be prosecuted'. But this access is open to any person who is covered by a commercial treaty—at any rate partially open, for a resident foreigner is in many places obliged to appoint a patron, so that not even this degree of participation is open to him unqualifiedly. (Likewise boys not yet old enough to be enrolled, and old people who have retired from duty, must be termed citizens in a sense, but only with the addition of'not fully' or 'superannuated' or some such termnot that it matters which word we use since what we mean is clear enough). What we are looking for is the citizen proper, without any defect needing to be amended. Similar difficulties may be raised, and solved, about persons exiled or with civic disqualifications. What effectively distinguishes the citizen proper from all others is his participation in giving judgement and in holding office. Some offices are distinguished in respect of length of tenure, some not being tenable by the same person twice under any circumstances, or only after an interval of time. Others, such as membership of a jury or of an assembly, have no such limitation. It might be objected that such persons are not really officials, and that these functions do not amount to participation in office. But they have the fullest sovereign power, and it would be ridiculous to deny their participation in office. In any case nomenclature ought not to make any difference; it is just that there is no name covering that which is common to a juryman and to a member of an assembly, which ought to be used of both. For the sake of a definition I suggest that we say 'unlimited office'. We therefore define citizens as those who participate in this. Such a definition seems to cover, as nearly as may be, those to whom the term citizen is in fact applied. On the other hand we must remember that in the case of things in which the substrata differ in kind, one being primary, another secondary, and so on, there is nothing, or scarcely anything, which is common to all those things, in so far as they are the kind of thing they are. Thus we see the various constitutions differing from each other in kind, some being prior to others—since those that have gone wrong or deviated must be posterior to those which are free from error. I will explain later what I mean by 'deviated'. A citizen, therefore, will necessarily vary according to the constitution in each case. For this reason our definition of citizen is best applied in a democracy; in the other constitutions it may be applicable, but it need not necessarily be so. For in some constitutions there is no body

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comprising the people, nor a recognized assembly, but only an occasional rally; and justice may be administered piecemeal. For example, at Sparta contract cases are tried by the Ephors, one or other of them, cases of homicide by the Elders, and other cases doubtless by other officials. Similarly at Carthage all cases are tried by officials. But our own definition of a citizen can be amended so as to apply to the other constitutions also. We simple replace our 'unlimited' office of juror or member of assembly by 'limited'. For it is to all or some of these that the task of judging or deliberating is assigned, either on all matters or on some. From these considerations it has become clear who a citizen is: as soon as a man becomes entitled to participate in office, deliberative or judicial, we deem him to be a citizen of that state; and a number of such persons large enough to secure a selfsufficient life we may, by and large, call a state. CHAPTER 2

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For practical purposes a citizen is defined as one of citizen birth on both his father's and his mother's side; some would go further and demand citizen descent for two, three, or even more generations. But since these are only crude definitions, employed by states for practical purposes, some people pose the puzzle of how a great or great-greatgrandfather's citizenship can itself be determined. Gorgias of Leontini, partly perhaps in puzzlement and partly in jest, said that, as mortars are what mortar-makers make, so Larissaeans are those made by the workmen, some of whom were Larissaean-makers. The answer to such objectors is simple: if they participated in the constitution in the manner prescribed in our definition, they were citizens. Of course, the criterion of having citizen-parents cannot be applied in the case of the original colonists or founders. I think however that there is perhaps a more important puzzle here, namely about those who got a share in the constitution because it had changed—as for example after the expulsion of the tyrants from Athens, when Cleisthenes enrolled many foreigners and slaves in the tribes. The question here is not 'Are these persons citizens?', but whether they are citizens justly or unjustly. Some would go further and question whether anyone can be a citizen unless he is justly so, on the ground that unjust and false mean the same thing. But when persons exercise their office unjustly, we continue to say that they rule, though unjustly; and as the citizen has been defined by some

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kind of office (i.e. if he shares in such-and-such an office, he is, as we said, a citizen), we cannot deny the propriety of using the term even in these cases.

5

CHAPTER 3 This question of justice or the lack of it cannot be separated from the dispute we have already mentioned, which arises from the difficulty some people raise as to whether it was or was not the state that acted— for example when a change takes place from oligarchy or tyranny to democracy. There are those who after such a change claim that they are no longer obliged to fulfil the terms of a contract; for it had been entered into, so they say, not by the state but by the tyrant. Similarly they would disown other obligations, if these have been incurred under one of those types of constitution which rest on force and disregard the common interest. It follows that if there is a democracy of this type, we must say that the acts of this constitution are acts of the state to the same degree as those flowing from the oligarchy or tyranny are. And this topic seems to be part of yet another question—how are we to tell whether a state is still the same state or a different one? We might try to investigate this question using territory and inhabitants as criteria; but this would not carry us very far, since it is quite possible to divide both territory and population into two, putting some people in one part and some into the other. That is not a very serious difficulty: it arises from our use of the word polls in more than one sense. Such a puzzle is therefore resolved easily enough. Another question is this: when a population lives in the same place, what is the criterion for regarding the state as a unity? It cannot be the walls, for it would be possible to put one wall round the whole Peloponnese. Babylon is perhaps a similar case, and any other state with a circumference that embraces a nation rather than a state. (It is said of Babylon that its capture was, two days later, still unknown to a part of the city.) These questions of the state's size—both how big it should be and whether it helps to have the population drawn from one nation or more than one—are problems to which it will be useful to return later, since the statesman has to keep them in mind. But when the same population continues to dwell in the same territory, must we say that the state remains the same so long as there is continuity of race among that population, even though one generation

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of people dies and another is born—just as a river or spring is commonly said to be the same, although different water passes into and out of it all the time? Alternatively, ought we to speak of the population as being the same for the reasons stated, but say that the state is different? For the state is a kind of association—an association of citizens in a constitution; so when the constitution changes and becomes different in kind, the state also would seem necessarily not to be the same. We may use the analogy of a chorus, which may at one time perform in a tragedy and at another in a comedy, so that we say it is different—yet often enough it is composed of the same persons. And the same principle is applicable to other associations and combinations, which are different if the combination in question differs in kind. For example, we say the same musical notes are fitted together differently, to produce either the Dorian or the Phrygian mode. If this is right, it is clear that the main criterion of the continued identity of a state ought to be its constitution. This leaves it quite open either to change or not to change the name of a state, both when the population is the same and when it is different. But whether, when a state's constitution is changed, it is just to disown obligations or to discharge them—that is another question. CHAPTER 4

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Connected with the matters just discussed is the question whether we ought to regard the virtue of a good man and that of a sound citizen as the same virtue, or not. If this is a point to be investigated, we really must try to form some rough conception of the virtue of a citizen. So then: we say a citizen is a member of an association, just as a sailor is; and each member of the crew has his different function and a name to fit it—rower, helmsman, look-out, and the rest. Clearly the most exact description of each individual will be a special description of his virtue; but equally there will also be a general description that will fit them all, because there is a task in which they all play a part— the safe conduct of the voyage; for each member of the crew aims at securing that. Similarly the task of all the citizens, however different they may be, is the stability of the association, that is, the constitution. Therefore the virtue of the citizen must be in relation to the constitution; and as there are more kinds of constitution than one, there cannot be just one single andperfect virtue of the sound citizen. On the other hand we do say that the good man is good because of one single

BookHI, Chapter^.

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virtue which is perfect virtue. Clearly then it is possible to be a sound citizen without having that virtue which makes a sound man. Look now at the problem from another angle and consider the same 35 point in relation to the best constitution. That is to say, if it is impossible for a state to consist entirely of sound men, still each of them must do, and do well, his proper work; and doing it well depends on his virtue. But since it is impossible for all the citizens to be alike, there cannot be one virtue of citizen and good man alike. For the 1277* virtue of the sound citizen must be possessed by all (and if it is, then that state is necessarily best.) But if it is inevitable that not all the citizens in a sound state are good, it is impossible for all to have the virtue of the good man. Again, a state is made up of unlike parts. As an animate creature 5 consists of body and soul, and soul consists of reasoning and desiring, and a household consists of husband and wife, and property consists of master and slave, so also a state is made up of these and many other sorts of people besides, all different. The virtue of all the citizens cannot, therefore, be one, any more than in a troupe of dancers the J0 goodness of the leader and that of the followers are one. Now while all this shows clearly that they are not the same in general, the question may be asked whether it is not possible in a particular case for the same virtue to belong both to the sound citizen and the sound man. We would answer that there is such a case, since 15 we maintain that a sound ruler is both good and wise, whereas wisdom is not essential for a citizen. Some say that from the very start there is a different kind of education for rulers. They instance the obvious training of the sons of royalty in horsemanship and war, and a saying of Euripides, which is supposed to refer to the education of a ruler: 'No frills in education please . . . only what the state doth need.' But though we may say that the virtue of good ruler 2o and good man is the same, yet, since he too that is ruled is a citizen, we cannot say in general that the virtue of citizen and man are one, but only that they may be in the case of a particular citizen. For certainly the virtue of ruler and citizen are not the same. And that doubtless is the reason why Jason of Pherae said that he went hungry whenever he ceased to be tyrant, not knowing how to live as a private person. But ^urely men praise the ability to rule and to be ruled, and the 25 virtue of a citizen of repute seems to be just this—to be able to rule and be ruled well. If then we say that the virtue of the good man is to do

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with ruling, and that of the citizen to do with both ruling and being ruled, the two things cannot be praiseworthy to the same degree.... For there is such a thing as rule by a master which we say is concerned with necessary tasks; but the master has no necessity to know more than how to use such labour. Anything else, I mean to be able actually to be a servant and do the chores, is simply slave-like. (We speak of several kinds of slave, corresponding to the several varieties of operation. One variety is performed by manual workers, who, as the term itself indicates, live by their hands; among these are the skilled mechanics.) Hence, in some places, only with the arrival of extreme democracies have workmen attained to participation in office. The work then of those who are subject to rule is not work which either the good statesman or the good citizen ought to learn, except occasionally for the personal use he may require to make of it. For then the distinction between master and slave just ceases to applyBut there is another kind of rule—that exercised over men who are free, and similar in birth. This we call rule by a statesman. It is this that a ruler must first learn through being ruled, just as one learns to command cavalry by serving under a cavalry-commander and to be a general by serving under a general, and by commanding a battalion and a company. This too is a healthy saying, namely that it is not possible to be a good ruler without first having been ruled. Not that good ruling and good obedience are the same virtue—only that the good citizen must have the knowledge and ablity both to rule and be ruled. That is what we mean by the virtue of a citizen—understanding the governing of free men from both points of view. Returning now to the good man, we find the same two qualities. And this is true even though the self-control and justice exercised in ruling are not the same in kind. For clearly the virtue of the good man, who is free but governed, for example his justice, will not be always one and the same: it will take different forms according to whether he is to rule or be ruled, just as self-control and courage vary as between men and women. A man would seem a coward if he had only the courage of a woman, a woman a chatterbox if she were only as discreet as a good man. Men and women have different parts to play in managing the household: his to win, hers to preserve. But the only virtue special to a ruler is practical wisdom; all the others must be possessed, so it seems, both by rulers and by ruled. The virtue of a person being ruled is not practical wisdom but correct opinion; he is

Book III, Chapter 4 and Book VII, Chapter i

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rather like a person who makes the pipes, while the ruler is the one who can play them. These considerations have made clear whether the virtue of the good man and that of the sound citizen are the same or different, and the sense in which they are the same and the sense in which they are different.

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BOOK VII CHAPTER I

If we wish to investigate the best constitution appropriately, we must first decide what is the most desirable life; for if we do not know that, the best constitution is also bound to elude us. For those who live under the best-ordered constitution (so far as their circumstances allow) may be expected, barring accidents, to be those whose affairs proceed best. We must therefore first come to some agreement as to what is the most desirable life for all men, or nearly all, and then decide whether it is one and the same life that is more desirable for them both as individuals and in the mass, or different ones. In the belief that the subject of the best life has been fully and adequately discussed, even in the external discourses, I propose to make use of this material now. Certainly nobody will dispute one division: that there are three ingredients which must all be present to make us blessed—our bodily existence, our intellectual and moral qualities, and all that is external. (No one would call blessed a man who is entirely without courage or self-control or practical wisdom or a sense of justice, who is scared of flies buzzing past, who will stop at nothing to gratify his desire for eating or drinking, who will ruin his closest friends for a paltry profit, and whose mind also is as witless and deluded as a child's or a lunatic's.) But while there is general agreement about these three, there is much difference of opinion about their extent and their order of superiority. Thus people suppose that it is sufficient to have a certain amount of virtue, but they set no limit to the pursuit of wealth, power, property, reputation, and the like. Our answer to such people will be twofold. First, it is easy to arrive at a firm conviction on these matters by simply observing the facts: it is not by means of external goods that men acquire and keep the virtues,

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but the other way round; and to live happily, whether men suppose it to consist in enjoyment or in virtue or in both, does in fact accrue more to those who are outstandingly well-equipped in character and intellect, and only moderately so in the possession of externally acquired goods—more, that is, than to those who have more goods than they need but are deficient in the other qualities. Yet the matter can be considered on the theoretical level too, and the same result will be seen easily enough. External goods, being like a collection of tools each useful for some purpose, have a limit: one can have too many of them, and that is bound to be of no benefit, or even a positive injury, to their possessors. It is quite otherwise with the goods of the soul: the more there is of each the more useful each will be (if indeed one ought to apply to these the term 'useful', as well as 'admirable'). So clearly, putting it in general terms, we shall maintain that the best condition of anything in relation to the best condition of any other thing is commensurate in point of superiority with the relationship between the things themselves of which we say these conditions are conditions. Hence as the soul is a more precious thing (both absolutely and relatively to ourselves) than both property and the body, its best condition too will necessarily show a proportionate relationship to that of each of the others. Moreover, it is for the sake of our souls that these things are to be desired and all right-minded persons ought to desire them; it would be wrong to reverse this priority. Let this then be agreed upon at the start: to each man there comes just so much happiness as he has of virtue and of practical wisdom, and performs actions dependent thereon. God himself is an indication of the truth of this. He is blessed and happy not on account of any of the external goods but because of himself and what he is by his own nature. And for these reasons good fortune must be something different from happiness; for the acquisition of goods external to the soul is due either to the coincidence of events or to fortune, but no man is jrst or restrained as a result of, or because of, fortune. A connected point, depending on the same arguments, applies with equal force to the state: the best and well-doing state is the happy state. But it is impossible for those who do not do good actions to do well, and there is no such thing as a man's or a state's good action without virtue and practical wisdom. The courage of a state, or its sense of justice, or its practical wisdom, or its restraint have exactly the same effect and are manifested in the same form as the qualities which

Book VII, Chapters 1—2

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the individual has to share in if he is to be called courageous, just, 35 wise, or restrained. These remarks must suffice to introduce the subject; it was impossible to start without saying something, equally impossible to try to develop every relevant argument, for that would be a task for another session. For the present let this be our fundamental basis: the life which is best for men, both separately, as individuals, and in the 40 mass, as states, is the life which has virtue sufficiently supported by material resources to facilitate participation in the actions that virtue 1324* calls for. As for objectors, if there is anyone who does not believe what has been said, we must pass them by for the purposes of our present inquiry and deal with them on some future occasion. CHAPTER 2

It remains to ask whether we are to say that happiness is the same for 5 the individual human being and for the state, or not. The answer is again obvious: all would agree that it is the same. For those who hold the view that the good life of an individual depends on wealth will likewise, if the whole state be wealthy, count it blessed; and those who prize most highly the life of a tyrant will deem most happy that state 10 which rules over the greatest number of people. So too one who commends the single individual on the basis of his virtue will also judge the more sound state to be the happier. But there are still these two questions needing consideration: Which life is more desirable, the life of participation in the work of the j j state and constitution, or one like a foreigner's, cut off from the association of the state? What constitution are we to lay down as best, and what is the best condition for the state to be in (whether we assume that participation in the state is desirable for all or only for the majority)? The first question was a matter of what is desirable for an individual; the second belongs to political theory and insight, and we 2o have chosen to examine it now. The other question would be merely incidental, this second one is the business of our inquiry. Obviously the best constitution must be one which is so ordered that any person whatsoever may prosper best and live blessedly; but it is disputed, even by those who admit that the life of virtue is the most 25 desirable, whether the active life of a statesman is preferable to one which is cut off from all external influences, i.e. the contemplative life, which some say is the only life for a philosopher. Both in earlier and in

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modern times men most ambitious for virtue seem generally to have preferred these two kinds of life, the statesman's or the philosopher's. It makes a considerable difference which of the two is correct, because we must, if we are right-minded people, direct ourselves to the better of the two aims, whichever it may be; and this equally as individuals and collectively as members of a constitution. Some hold that to dominate neighbouring peoples in the manner of a slave-master involves the greatest injustice, but to do so in a statesmanlike way involves none, though it does mean making inroads on the comfort of the ruler. Others hold pretty well the opposite, namely that the life of active statesmanship is the only one worthy of a man, and activity springing from each of the individual virtues is just as much open to those who take part in public affairs under the constitution as to private persons. That is one view, but there is also a set of people who say that the only style of constitution that brings happiness is one modelled on tyranny and on mastery of slaves. And in some places the definitive purpose both of the laws and of the constitution is to facilitate mastery of the neighbouring peoples. Hence, even though in most places the legal provisions have for the most part been established on virtually no fixed principle, yet if it is anywhere true that the laws have a single purpose, they all aim at domination. Thus in Sparta and Crete the educational system and the bulk of the laws are directed almost exclusively to purposes of war; and outside the Greek peoples all such nations as are strong enough to aggrandize themselves, like the Scythians, Persians, Thracians, and Celts, have always set great store by military power. In some places there are also laws designed to foster military virtue, as at Carthage, where men reputedly receive decorations in the form of armlets to the number of the campaigns in which they have served. There used also to be a law in Macedonia that a man had to be girdled with his halter until he had slain his first enemy; and at a certain Scythian feast when the cup was passed round only those were allowed to drink from it who had killed an enemy. Among the Iberians, a warlike race, the tombs of their warriors have little spikes stuck around them showing the number of enemy slain. There are many other such practices, some established by law and some by custom, among different peoples. Yet surely, if we are prepared to examine the point carefully, we shall see how completely unreasonable it would be if the work of a statesman were to be reduced to an ability to work out how to rule and

Book VII, Chapters 2—3

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be master over neighbouring peoples, with or without their consent. How could that be part of statecraft or lawgiving, when it is not even lawful in itself? To rule at all costs, not only justly but unjustly, is unlawful, and merely to have the upper hand is not necessarily to have a just title to it. Nor does one find this in the other fields of knowledge: it is not the job of a doctor or a ship's captain to persuade or to force patients or passengers. Certainly most people seem to think that mastery is statesmanship, and they have no compunction about inflicting upon others what in their own community they regard as neither just nor beneficial if applied to themselves. They themselves ask for just government among themselves; but in the treatment of others they do not worry at all about what measures are just. Of course we may be sure that nature has made some things fit to be ruled by a master and others not, and if this is so, we must try to exercise masterlike rule not over all people but only over those fit for such treatmentjust as we should not pursue human beings for food or sacrifice, but only such wild animals as are edible and so suitable to be hunted for this purpose. Surely too a single state could be happy even on its own (provided of course that its constitution runs well), since it is possible for a state to be administered in isolation in some place or other, following its own sound laws; the organization of its constitution will not be directed to war or the defeat of enemies, for the non-existence of these is postulated. The conclusion is obvious: we regard every provision made for war as admirable, not as a supreme end but only as serving the needs of that end. It is the task of a sound legislator to survey the state, the clan, and every other association and to see how they can be brought to share in the good life and in whatever degree of happiness is possible for them. There will of course be different rules laid down in different places; if there are neighbouring peoples, it will be part of the legislative function to decide what sort of attitude is to be adopted to this sort and that sort, and how to employ towards each the proper rules for dealing with each. But this question, 'What end should the best constitution have in view?', will be properly examined at a later stage. CHAPTER 3 We must now deal with those who, while agreeing that the life which is conjoined with virtue is the most desirable, differ as to how it is to be

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followed. Some reject altogether the holding of state-offices, regarding the life of a free man as different from that of a statesman, and as the most desirable of all lives. Others say that the statesman's life is best, on the grounds that a man who does nothing cannot be doing well, and happiness and doing well are the same thing. To both parties we may say in reply, 'You are both of you partly right and partly wrong. Certainly it is true, as some of you maintain, that the life of a free man is better than the life like that of a master of slaves: there is no dignity in using a slave, qua slave, for issuing instructions to do this or that routine job is no part of noble activity. But not all rule is rule by a master, and those who think it is are mistaken. The difference between ruling over free men and ruling over slaves is as great as the difference between the naturally free and the natural slave, a distinction which has been sufficiently defined in an earlier passage. And we cannot agree that it is right to value doing nothing more than doing something. For happiness is action; and the actions of just and restrained men represent the consummation of many fine things.' But perhaps someone will suppose that if we define things in this way, it means that absolute sovereignty is best, because then one is in a sovereign position to perform the greatest number of fine actions; and so anyone who is in a position to rule ought not to yield that position to his neighbour, but take and keep it for himself without any regard for the claims of his parents or his children or friends in general, sacrificing everything to the principle that the best is most to be desired and nothing could be better than to do well. Perhaps there is some truth in this, but only if we suppose that this most desirable of things is in fact going to accrue to those who use robbery and violence. But maybe this is impossible and the supposition is false. For a man who does not show as much superiority over his fellows as husband over wife, or father over children, or master over slave—how can his actions be fine actions? So he who departs from the path of virtue will never be able to go sufficiently straight to make up entirely for his previous errors. As between similar people, the fine and just thing is to take turns, which satisfies the demands of equality and similarity. Non-equality given to equals, dissimilar positions given to similar persons—these are contrary to nature and nothing that is contrary to nature is fine. Hence it is only when one man is superior in virtue, and in ability to perform the best actions, that it becomes fine to serve him and just to obey him. But it should be remembered that virtue in itself is not enough; there must also be the power to translate it into action.

Book VII, Chapter 3 and Chapter /j

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If all this is true and if happiness is to be equated with doing well, then the active life will be the best both for any state as a whole 15 community and for the individual. But the active life need not, as some suppose, be always concerned with our relations with other prople, nor is intelligence 'active' only when it is directed towards results that flow from action. On the contrary, thinking and speculation that are their own end and are done for their own sake are more 'active', 20 because the aim in such thinking is to do well, and therefore also, in a sense, action. Master-craftsmen in particular, even though the actions they direct by their intellect are external to them, are nevertheless said to 'act', in a sovereign sense. As for states that are set up away from others and have chosen to live thus in isolation, there is nothing in that to oblige them to lead a life of inaction. Activity too may take place as among parts: the parts of a 25 state provide numerous associations that enter into relations with each other. The same is true of any individual person; for otherwise God himself and the whole universe would scarcely be in a fine condition, for they have no external activities, only those proper to themselves. It 30 is therefore clear that the same life must inevitably be the best both for individuals and collectively for states and mankind. C H A P T E R 13

We must now discuss the constitution itself, and ask ourselves what people, and what kind of people, the state ought to be composed of if it is going to be blessed and have a well-run constitution. The wellbeing of all men depends on two things: one is the right choice of target, of the end to which actions should tend, the other lies in finding the actions that lead to that end. These two may just as easily conflict with each other as coincide. Sometimes, for example, the aim is wellchosen, but in action men fail to attain it. At other times they successfully perform everything that conduces to the end, but the end itself was badly chosen. Or they may fail in both, as sometimes happens in the practice of medicine, when doctors neither rightly discern what kind of condition a healthy body ought to be in, nor discover the means which will enable their goal to be attained. Wherever skill and knowledge come into play, these two must both be mastered: the end and the actions which are means to the end. It is clear then that all men aim at happiness and the good life, but some men have an opporunity to get it, others have not. This may be

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due to their nature, or to some stroke of fortune, for the good life needs certain material resources (and when a man's disposition is comparatively good, the need is for a lesser amount of these, a greater amount when it is comparatively bad). Some indeed, who start with the opportunity, go wrong from the very beginning of the pursuit of happiness. But as our object is to find the best constitution, and that means the one whereby a state will be best ordered, and since we call that state best ordered in which the possibilities of happiness are greatest, it is clear that we must keep constantly in mind what happiness is. We defined this in our Ethics • (if those discussions were worth anything), and we here state, again, that happiness is an activity and a complete utilization of virtue, not conditionally but absolutely. By 'conditionally' in this connection I refer to things that are necessary, and by 'absolutely' I mean nobly. For example, actions relating to justice, the infliction of just chastisements and punishments, spring from virtue; but they are 'necessary' and whatever good is in them is there by necessity. (It is preferable to have a state of affairs in which such things would be «»necessary both for state and for individual.) But actions directed towards honours and abundant resources are noblest actions, in an absolute sense. For the former actions are but the removal of some evil, the latter sort are not; they are on the contrary the creation and the begetting of positive goods. A sound man will nobly utilize ill-health, poverty, and other misfortunes; but blessedness requires the opposite of these. (This definition too was given in our ethical discussions—that the sound man is the sort of man for whom things absolutely good are good, on account of his own virtue; and clearly his utilization of them must be sound and noble absolutely.) Hence men imagine that the causes of happiness lie in external goods. This is as if they were to ascribe fine and brilliant lyre-playing to the quality of the instrument rather than to the skill of the player. From what has been said it follows that, while some things must be there from the start, others must be provided by a lawgiver. Ideally, then, we wish for the structure of our state all that Fortune has it in her sovereign power to bestow (that she is sovereign, we take for granted). But it is not Fortune's business to make a state sound; that is a task for knowledge and deliberate choice. On the other hand, a state's being sound requires the citizens who share in the constitution to be sound; and for our purposes all the citizens share in the

Book VII, Chapters 13—14

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constitution. The question then is, 'How does a man become sound?' Of course, even if it is possible for all to be sound, and not just each citizen taken individually, the latter is preferable, since each entails all. However, men become sound and good because of three things. These are nature, habit, and reason. First, nature; a man must be born, and he must be born a man and not some other animal; so too he must have body and soul with certain characteristics. It may be of no advantage to be born with some of these qualities, because habits cause changes; for there are some qualities which by nature have a dual possibility, in that subsequent habits will make them either better or worse. Other creatures live mainly by nature, some by habit also to a small extent. Man, however, lives by reason as well: he alone has reason, and so needs all three working conceitedly. Reason causes men to do many things contrary to habit and to nature, whenever they are convinced that this is the better course. In an earlier place we described what men's nature should be if they are to respond easily to handling by the legislator. After that it becomes a task of education, for men learn partly by habituation and partly by listening.

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C H A P T E R 14 Since every association of persons forming a state consists of rulers and ruled, we must ask whether those who rule and those who are ruled ought to be different persons or the same throughout life; for the education which will be needed will depend upon which way we make this distinction. If one group of persons were as far superior to all the rest as we believe gods and heroes to be superior to men, and if they had both bodies and souls of such outstanding quality that the superiority of the rulers were indisputable and evident to those ruled by them, then it would obviously be better that the same set of persons should always rule and the others always be ruled, once and for all. But since this is not a condition that can easily be obtained, and since rulers are not so greatly superior to their subjects as Scylax says the kings are in India, it is clear that, for a variety of reasons, all must share alike in the business of ruling and being ruled by turns. For equality means giving the same to those who are alike, and the established constitution can hardly be long maintained if it is contrary to justice. Otherwise everyone all over the country combines with the ruled in a desire to introduce innovations, and it is quite impossible for even a

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numerous citizen-body to be strong enough to withstand such a combination. Yet it cannot be disputed that rulers have to be superior to those who are ruled. It therefore becomes the duty of the lawgiver to consider how this is to be brought about and how they shall do the sharing. We noted earlier that nature herself has provided one way to choose: that very element which in respect of birth is all the same she has divided into older and younger, the former being fit for ruling, the latter for being ruled. No one objects to being thus ruled on grounds of age, or thinks himself too good for it; after all, once he reaches the required age, he will get back his contribution to the pool. There is then a sense in which we must say the 'same' persons rule and are ruled, and a sense in which we must say thay they are 'different' persons. So their education too must be in one sense the same, in another different; for, as is often said, one who is to become a good ruler must first himself be ruled. (Rule, as was said in our first discussions, is of two kinds, according as it is exercised for the sake of the ruler, which we say is master-like rule, or for the sake of the ruled, which we say is rule over free men; and some instructions that are given differ not in the actual tasks to be performed, but in their purpose, which is why many jobs generally considered servile may be honourably performed even by free men, by the younger among them. For the question whether a job is honourable or not is to be decided less with reference to the actions themselves than in the light of their end and purpose.) But since we hold that the virtue of citizen and ruler is the same as that of the best man, and that the same man should be first ruled and later ruler, it immediately becomes an essential task of the lawgiver to ensure that they both may become good men, and to consider what practices will make them so, and what is the aim of the best life. Two parts of the soul are distinguished, one intrinsically possessing reason, the other not possessing reason intrinsically but capable of listening to it. To these belong, we think, the virtues which qualify a man to be called in some sense 'good'. To those who accept our division of the soul there is no difficulty in answering the question 'In which of the two parts, more than in the other, does the end lie?' For what is inferior is always for the sake of what is superior; this is equally clear both in matters of skill and in those of nature; and the superior is that which is possessed of reason. There is a further twofold division, which follows from our custom of making a distinction between

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practical reason and theoretical reason; so clearly we must divide this part similarly. Actions, we shall say, follow suit: those of that which is by nature better must be regarded as preferable by those who are in a position to attain all three or two of them. For each man, that which is the very highest that he can attain is the thing most to be preferred. Again, all of life can be divided into work and leisure, war and peace, and some things done have moral worth, while others are merely necessary and useful. In this connection the same principle of choice must be applied, both to the parts of the soul and to their respective actions—that is to say, we should choose war for the sake of peace, work for the sake of leisure, necessary and useful things for the sake of the noble. The statesman must therefore take into consideration the parts of the soul and their respective actions, and in making laws must have an eye to all those things, but more especially to the better ones and to the ends in view; and he must regard men's lives and their choice of what they do in the same light. For one must be able to work and to fight, but even more to be at peace and have leisure; to do the necessary and the useful things, yes, but still more those of moral worth. These then are the targets at which education should be aimed, whether children's education or that of such later age-groups as require it. It is obvious however that those Greeks who have today a reputation for running the best constitutions, and the lawgivers who drew up those constitutions, did not in fact construct their constitutional plans with the best possible aim, and did not direct their laws and education towards producing all the virtues; but instead, following the vulgar way of thinking, they turned aside to pursue virtues that appeared to be useful and more lucrative. And in a similar manner to these some more recent writers have voiced the same opinion: they express their approval of the Lacedaemonians' constitution and admire the aim of their lawgiver, because he ordered all his legislation with a view to war and conquest. This is a view which can easily be refuted by reasoning, and already in our own day has been refuted by the facts. Just as most men crave to be master of many others, because success in this brings an abundance of worldly goods, so the writer Thibron is clearly an admirer of the Laconian lawgiver, and so too is each of the others who, writing about the Spartan constitution, have stated that thanks to their being trained to face dangers they came to rule over many others. But since today the Spartan rule is no more, it is clear that they are not happy and their lawgiver was not a good one. There is also something

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laughable in the fact that, for all their keeping to his laws, and with no one to stop them from using those laws, they have lost the good life. They are also wrong in their notion of the kind of rule for which a lawgiver ought to display admiration; for rule over free men is nobler than master-like rule, and more connected with virtue. To say that a state has trained itself in the acquisition of power with a view to ruling its neighbours—that is no ground for calling it happy or applauding its lawgiver. Such an argument may have dangerous consequences: its acceptance obviously requires any citizen who can to make it his ambition to be able to rule in his own city—the very thing that the Lacedaemonians accuse King Pausanias of seeking, and that too though he was already in a position of such high honour. So none of these theories or laws is of any value for a statesman, and they are neither useful nor true. The same things are best for a community and for individuals, and it is these that a lawgiver must instil into the souls of men. And as for military training, the object in practising it regularly is not to bring into subjection those not deserving of such treatment, but to enable men (a) to save themselves from becoming subject to others, (b) to win a position of leadership, exercised for the benefit of the ruled, not with a view to being the master of all; and (c) to exercise the rule of a master over those who deserve to be slaves. The lawgiver should make particularly sure that his aim both in his military legislation and in his legislation in general is to provide peace and leisure. And facts support theory here, for though most military states survive while they are fighting wars, they fall when they have established their rule. Like steel, they lose their fine temper when they are at peace; and the lawgiver who has not educated them to be able to employ their leisure is to blame. C H A P T E R 15

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Since it seems that men have the same ends whether they are acting as individuals or as a community, and that the best man and the best constitution must have the same definitive purpose, it becomes evident that there must be present the virtues needed for leisure; for, as has often been said, the end of war is peace and leisure is the end of work. Of the virtues useful for leisure and civilized pursuits, some function in a period of leisure, others in a period of work—because a lot of essential things need to be provided before leisure can become

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possible. Hence a state must be self-restrained, courageous, and steadfast; for as the proverb says, 'no leisure for slaves', and those who cannot bravely face danger are the slaves of their attackers. We need courage and steadfastness for our work, philosophy for leisure, and restraint and a sense of justice in both contexts; but particularly in times of leisure and peace. For war forces men to be just and restrained, but the enjoyment of prosperity, and leisure in peacetime, are apt rather to make them arrogant. Therefore a great sense of justice and much self-restraint are demanded of those who are thought to be successful and to enjoy everything the world regards as a blessing, men such as might be living, in the poets' phrase, in the Isles of the Blest. For these especially will need philosophy, restrain;, and a sense of justice; and the greater the leisure that flows from an abundance of such blessings, the greater that need will be. Clearly then the state, too, if it is to be sound and happy, must have a share in these virtues. For if it is a mark of disgrace not to be able to use advantages, it is especially so in a period of leisure—to display good qualities when working or on military service, but in leisure and peace to be no better than slaves. Training in virtue, therefore, should not follow the Lacedaemonian model. The difference between them and other nations lies not in any disagreement about what are the greatest goods but in their view that there is a certain virtue which will produce them with particular effectiveness. We have already distinguished three essentials—nature, habit, and reason. Of these we have already dealt with the first, determining the qualities we should have by natural endowment; next we must ask whether education should first proceed by means of reason or by the formation of habits. Certainly these must chime in perfect unison; for it is possible to make an error of reason about the best principle, and to find oneself equally led astray by one's habits. One thing is clear from the start: just as in everything else, so here too coming into being originates in a beginning, and the end which originates in some beginning is itself the beginning of another end; and for us, reason and intelligence are the end to which our nature tends. Thus it is to these that the training of our habits, as well as our coming into being, must be directed. Next, as soul and body are two, so also we note two parts of the soul, the reasoning and the unreasoning; and each of these has its own condition, of intelligence in the former case, of appetition in the latter. And just as the body comes into

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being earlier than the soul, so also the unreasoning is prior to that which possesses reason. This is shown by the fact that, while passion and will as well as desire are to be found in children even right from birth, reasoning and intelligence come into their possession as they grow older. Therefore the care of the body must begin before the care of the soul, then the training of the appetitive element, but this latter for the sake of the intelligence, and the body's training for the sake of the soul.

BOOK VIII CHAPTER I

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No one would dispute the fact that it is a lawgiver's prime duty to arrange for the education of the young. In states where this is not done the quality of the constitution suffers. Education must be related to the particular constitution in each case, for it is the special character appropriate to each constitution that set it up at the start and commonly maintains it, e.g. the democratic character preserves a democracy, the oligarchic an oligarchy. And in all circumstances the better character is a cause of a better constitution. And just as there must also be preparatory training for all skills and capacities, and a process of preliminary habituation to the work of each profession, it is obvious that there must also be training for the activities of virtue. But since there is but one aim for the entire state, it follows that education must be one and the same for all, and that the responsibility for it must be a public one, not the private affair which it now is, each man looking after his own children and teaching them privately whatever private curriculum he thinks they ought to study. In matters that belong to the public, training for them must be the public's concern. And it is not right either that any of the citizens should think that he belongs just to himself; he must regard all citizens as belonging to the state, for each is a pan of the state; and the responsibility for each part naturally has regard to the responsibility for the whole. In this respect the Lacedaemonians will earn our approval: the greatest possible attention is given to youth in Sparta, and all on a public basis.

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CHAPTER 2

It is clear then that there should be laws laid down about education, and that education itself must be made a public concern. But we must not forget the question of what that education is to be, and how one ought to be educated. For in modern times there are opposing views about the tasks to be set, for there are no generally accepted assumptions about what the young should learn, either for virtue or for the best life; nor yet is it clear whether their education ought to be with more concern for the intellect than for the character of the soul. The problem has been complicated by the education we see actually given; and it is by no means certain whether training should be directed at things useful in life, or at those conducive to virtue, or at exceptional accomplishments. (All these answers have been judged correct by somebody.) And there is no agreement as to what in fact does tend towards virtue. For a start, men do not all prize the same virtue, so naturally they differ also about the training for it. Then as to useful things: there are obviously certain essentials which the young must learn; but it is clear that they must not learn all useful tasks, since we distinguish those that are proper for a free man and those that are not, and that they must take part only in those useful occupations which will not turn the participant into a mechanic. We must reckon a task or skill or study as mechanical if it renders the body or intellect of free men unserviceable for the uses and activities of virtue. We therefore call mechanical those skills which have a deleterious effect on the body's condition, and all work that is paid for. For these make the mind preoccupied, and unable to rise above lowly things. Even in some branches of knowledge worthy of free men, while there is a point up to which it does not demean a free man to go in for them, too great a concentration on them, too much mastering of detail—this is liable to lead to the same damaging effects that we have been speaking of. In this connection the purpose for which the action or the study is undertaken makes a big difference. It is not unworthy of a free man to do something for oneself or for one's friends or on account of virtue; but he that does the same action on others' account may often be regarded as doing something typical of a hireling or slave. The established subjects studied nowadays, as we have already noted, have a double tendency.

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Politics CHAPTER 3

Roughly four things are generally taught to children: reading and writing, physical training, music, and, not always included, drawing. Reading and writing and drawing are included as useful in daily life in a variety of ways, gymnastics as promoting courage. But about music there could be an immediate doubt. Most men nowadays take part in music for the sake of the pleasure it gives; but originally it was included in education on the ground that our own nature itself, as has 30 often been said, wants to be able not merely to work properly but also to be at leisure in the right way. And leisure is the single fundamental principle of the whole business, so let us discuss it again. If we need both work and leisure, but the latter is preferable to the former and is its end, we must ask ourselves what are the proper 35 activities of leisure. Obviously not play; for that would inevitably be to make play our end in life, which is impossible. Play has its uses, but they belong rather to the sphere of work; for he who toils needs rest, and play is a way of resting, while work is inseparable from toil and 40 strain. We must therefore admit play, but keeping it to its proper uses and occasions, and prescribing it as a cure; such movement of the soul 1338' is a relaxation, and, because we enjoy it, rest. But leisure seems in itself to contain pleasure, happiness, and the blessed life. This is a state attained not by those at work but by those at leisure, because he that is working is working for some hitherto unattained end, and 5 happiness is an end, happiness which is universally regarded as concomitant not with pain but with pleasure. Admittedly men do not agree as to what that pleasure is; each man decides for himself following his own disposition, the best man choosing the best kind of enjoyment from the finest sources. Thus it becomes clear that, in order to 10 spend leisure in civilized pursuits, we do require a certain amount of learning and education, and that these branches of education and these subjects studied must have their own intrinsic purpose, as distinct from those necessary occupational subjects which are studied for reasons beyond themselves. Hence, in the past, men laid down music as part of education, not as 15 being necessary, for it is not in that category, nor yet as being useful in the way that a knowledge of reading and writing is useful for business or household administration, for study, and for many of the activities of a citizen, nor as a knowledge of drawing seems useful for the better judging of the products of a skilled worker, nor again as gymnastics are 25

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useful for health and vigour—neither of which do we see gained as a result of music. There remains one purpose—for civilized pursuits during leisure; and that is clearly the reason why they do introduce it, for they give it a place in what they regard as the civilized pursuits of free men. Thus Homer's line, 'to summon him alone to the rich banquet'; and after these words he introduces certain other persons, 'who summon the bard whose singing shall delight them all'. And elsewhere Odysseus says that the best civilized pursuit is when men get together and 'sit in rows up and down the hall feasting and listening to the bard'. Clearly then there is a form of education which we must provide for our sons, not as being useful or essential but as elevated and worthy of free men. We must on a later occasion discuss whether this education is one or many, what subjects it embraces, and how they are to be taught. But as it turns out, we have made some progress in that direction: we have some evidence from the ancients too, derived from the subjects laid down by them—as the case of music makes clear. It is also clear that there are some useful things, too, in which the young must be educated, not only because they are useful (for example they must learn reading and writing), but also because they are often the means to learning yet further subjects. Similarly they must learn drawing, not for the sake of avoiding mistakes in private purchases, and so that they may not be taken in when buying and selling furniture, but rather because it teaches one to be observant of physical beauty. But to be constantly asking 'What is the use of it?' is unbecoming to those of broad vision and unworthy of free men. Since it is obvious that education by habit-forming must precede education by reasoned instruction, and that education of the body must precede that of the intellect, it is clear that we must subject our children to gymnastics and to physical training; the former produces a certain condition of the body, the latter its actions.

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POETICS* CHAPTER I

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The subject I wish to discuss is poetry itself, its species with their respective capabilities, the correct way of constructing plots so that the work turns out well, the number and nature of the constituent elements [of each species], and anything else in the same field of inquiry. To follow the natural order and take first things first, epic and tragic poetry, comedy and dithyrambic, and most music for the flute or lyre are all, generally considered, varieties of mimesis, differing from each other in three respects, the media, the objects, and the mode of mimesis. ['Media' needs explaining]: in some cases where people, whether by technical rules or practised facility, produce various mimeseis by portraying things, the media are colours and shapes, while in others the medium is the voice; similarly in the arts in question, taken collectively, the media of mimesis are rhythm, speech, and harmony, either separately or in combination. For example, harmony and rhythm are the media of instrumental music, rhythm alone without harmony the medium of dancing, as dancers represent characters, passions, and actions by rhythmic movement and postures. The art that uses only speech by itself or verse [that is, rhythmical speech], the verses being homogeneous or of different kinds, has as yet no name; for we have no common term to apply to the [prose] mimes of Sophron and Xenarchus and to the Socratic dialogues, nor any common term for mimeseis produced in verse, whether iambic trimeters or elegiacs or some other such metre. True, people do attach the making [that is the root of the word poietes] to the name of a metre and speak of elegiac-makers and hexameter-makers; they think, no doubt, that 'makers' is applied to poets not because they make mimeseis but as a general term meaning 'verse-makers', since they call 'poets' or 'makers' even those who publish a medical or scientific * Translation: M. E. Hubbard (in Ancient Literary Criticism, eds. D. A. Russell and M. Winterbottom, Oxford, 1972). The words in square brackets, and the bracketed numerals and letters, have been added by the translator to help the reader follow the argument. Text: R. Kassel (Oxford Classical Texts, 1965).

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theory in verse. But [this is open to two objections]: (i) as Homer and Empedocles have nothing in common except their metre, the latter had better be called a scientific writer, not a poet, if we are to use 'poet' of the former; (2) similarly, if we suppose a man to make his mimesis in a medley of all metres, as Chaeremon in fact did in the Centaur, a recitation-piece in all the various metres, we still have to call him a poet, a 'maker'. So much for the simpler kinds. Some use all the media mentioned, rhythm, song, and verse: these are dithyrambic and nomic poetry, tragedy, and comedy. But the two former use them all simultaneously, while the latter use different media in different parts. So much for the differentiae derived from the media.

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The objects of this mimesis are people doing things, and these people [as represented] must necessarily be either good or bad, this being, generally speaking, the only line of divergence between characters, since differences of character just are differences in goodness and badness, or else they must be better than are found in the world or worse or just the same, as they are represented by the painters, Polygnotus portraying them as better, Pauson as worse, and Dionysius as they are; clearly therefore each of the varieties of mimesis in question will exhibit these differences, and one will be distinguishable from another in virtue of presenting things as different in this way. These dissimilarities can in fact be found in dancing and instrumental music, and in the arts using speech and unaccompanied verse: Homer for instance represents people as better and Cleophon as they are, while Hegemon of Thasos, the inventor of parodies, and Nicochares, the author of the Deiliad, represent them as worse ...; this is also the differentia that marks off tragedy from comedy, since the latter aims to represent people as worse, the former as better, than the men of the present day.

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There is still a third difference, the mode in which one represents each of these objects. For one can represent the same objects in the same media

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(i) sometimes in narration and sometimes becoming someone else, as Homer does; or (ii) speaking in one's own person without change, or (iii) with all the people engaged in the mimesis actually doing things. These three then, media, objects, and mode, are, as I said at the beginning, the differentiae of poetic mimesis. So, if we use one of them [to separate poets into classes], Sophocles will be in the same class as Homer, since both represent people as good, and if we use another, he will be in the same class as Aristophanes, since they both represent people as actively doing things.... So much for the number and nature of the differentiae of poetic mimesis. CHAPTER 4

Poetry, I believe, has two overall causes, both of them natural: (a) Mimesis is innate in human beings from childhood—indeed we differ from the other animals in being most given to mimesis and in making our first steps in learning through it—and pleasure in instances of mimesis is equally general. This we can see from the facts: 10 we enjoy looking at the most exact portrayals of things we do not like to see in real life, the lowest animals, for instance, or corpses. This is because not only philosophers, but all men, enjoy getting to understand something, though it is true that most people feel this pleasure 15 only to a slight degree; therefore they like to see these pictures, because in looking at them they come to understand something and can infer what each thing is, can say, for instance, 'This man in the picture is so-and-so.' If you happen not to have seen the original, the picture will not produce its pleasure qua instance of mimesis, but because of its technical finish or colour or for some such other reason. 20 (b) As well as mimesis, harmony and rhythm are natural to us, and verses are obviously definite sections of rhythm.... 5

1449" To inquire whether even tragedy [as distinct from epic] is sufficiently elaborated in its qualitative elements, judging it in itself and in its relation to the audience, is another story. At any rate, after originating 10 in the improvizations of the leaders of the dithyramb, as comedy did in those of the leaders of the phallic songs still customary in many Greek

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cities, tragedy gradually grew to maturity, as people developed the capacities they kept discovering in it, and after many changes it stopped altering, since it had attained its full growth. The main 15 changes were: (i) in the number of actors, raised from one to two by Aeschylus, who made the choral part less important and gave speech the leading role; Sophocles added a third—and also scenepainting; (iii) in amplitude: as tragedy developed from the satyr-style, its 20 plots were at first slight and its expression comical, and it was a long time before it acquired dignity; (iii) in metre: the iambic trimeter replaced the trochaic tetrameter, which had been used before as suitable for a satyr-style poetry, that is, for productions involving more dancing; when verbal expression came to the fore, however, nature herself found the right metre, the iambic being the most speakable of all metres; 25 this we can see from the fact that it is the one we most often produce accidentally in conversation, where hexameters are rare and only occur when we depart from conversational tone; (iv) in the increased number of episodes. There is no need to say more of this or of the other developments that gave it beauty; it would take too long to go through them in detail. 30 CHAPTER 5 Comedy is, as I said, a mimesis of people worse than are found in the world—'worse' in the particular sense of'uglier', as the ridiculous is a species of ugliness; for what we find funny is a blunder that does no serious damage or an ugliness that does not imply pain, the funny face, for instance, being one that is ugly and distorted, but not with pain.

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CHAPTER 6 I shall deal later with the art of mimesis in hexameters and with i449b comedy; here I want to talk about tragedy, picking up the definition of its essential nature that results from what I have said. Well then, a tragedy is a mimesis of a high, complete action ('complete' in the sense that implies amplitude), in speech pleasurably 25 enhanced, the different kinds [of enhancement] occurring in separate

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sections, in dramatic, not narrative form, effecting through pity and fear the catharsis of such emotions. By 'speech pleasurably enhanced' I mean that involving rhythm and harmony or song, by 'the different kinds separately' that some parts are in verse alone and others in song. One can deduce as necessary elements of tragedy (a) [from the mode] the designing of the spectacle, since the mimesis is produced by people doing things; (b) [from the media] song-writing and verbal expression, the media of tragic mimesis; by 'verbal expression' I mean the composition of the verse-parts, while the meaning of 'songwriting' is obvious to anybody. [Others can be inferred from (c) the objects of the mimesis^ A tragedy is a mimesis of an action; action implies people engaged in it; these people must have some definite moral and intellectual qualities, since it is through a man's qualities that we characterize his actions, and it is of course with reference to their actions that men are said to succeed or fail. We therefore have (i) the mimesis of the action, the plot, by which I mean the ordering of the particular actions; (ii) [the mimesis of] the moral characters of the personages, namely that [in the play] which makes us say that the agents have certain moral qualities; (iii) [the mimesis of] their intellect, namely those parts [of the play] in which they demonstrate something in speech or deliver themselves of some general maxim.1 So tragedy as a whole will necessarily have six elements, the possession of which makes tragedy qualitatively distinct [from other literary kinds]: they are plot, the mimesis of character, verbal expression, the mimesis of intellect, spectacle, and song-writing. The media of mimesis are two, the mode one, the objects three, and there are no others. Not a few tragedians do in fact use these as qualitative elements; indeed virtually every play has spectacle, the mimesis of character, plot, verbal expression, song, and the mimesis of intellect. The most important of these elements is the arrangement of the particular actions [as the following arguments show]: (a) A tragedy is [by definition] a mimesis not of people but of their actions and life. Both success and ill success are success and ill success in action—in other words the end and aim of human life is doing something, not just being a certain sort of person; and though we consider people's characters in deciding what sort of person they are, we call them successful or unsuccessful only with reference to 1 Throughout the rest of the treatise 'mimesis of character' and 'mimesis of intellect' are used without square brackets to translate ethos and dianoia in this technical sense (translator's note).

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their actions. So far therefore from the persons in a play acting as they do in order to represent their characters, the mimesis of their characters is only included along with and because of their actions. So the particular actions, the plot, are what the rest of the tragedy is there for, and what the rest is there for is the most important. (b) [By definition] a work could not be a tragedy if there were no action. But there could be a tragedy without mimesis of character, and the tragedies of most of the moderns are in fact deficient in it; the same is true of many other poets, and of painters for that matter, of Zeuxis, for instance, in comparison with Polygnotus: the latter is good at depicting character, while Zeuxis' painting has no mimesis of character to speak of. (c) If you put down one after another speeches that depicted character, finely expressed and brilliant in the mimesis of intellect, that would not do the job that, by definition, tragedy does do, while a tragedy with a plot, that is, with an ordered series of particular actions, though deficient in these other points, would do its job much better. (d) The most attractive things in tragedy, peripeteiai and recognition scenes, are parts of the plot. (e) Novices in poetry attain perfection in verbal expression and in the mimesis of character much earlier than in the ordering of the particular actions; this is also true of almost all early poets. The plot therefore is the principle, or one might say the principle of life,2 in tragedy, while the mimesis of character comes second in importance, a relation similar to one we find in painting, where the most beautiful colours, if smeared on at random, would give less pleasure than an uncoloured outline that was a picture of something. A tragedy, I repeat, is a mimesis of an action, and it is only because of the action that it is a mimesis of the people engaged in it. Third comes the mimesis of their intellect, by which I mean their ability to say what the situation admits and requires; to do this in speeches is the job of political sense and rhetoric, since the older poets made their people speak as the former directs, while the moderns make them observe the rules of rhetoric. Of these two, the mimesis of character is that [in the play] which makes plain the nature of the moral choices the personages make, so that those speeches in which there is absolutely 2 The 'principle of life' renders psyche ('soul'), which stands to the living body in the same relation as plot to tragedy; it is 'what the rest is there for' as in argument (a), and it is what the living body essentially is as in argument (b). In traditional language it is both a 'final cause' and the 'formal cause". Cf. DeAnima 4i5 b 8ff. (translator's note).

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nothing that the speaker chooses and avoids involve no mimesis of character. By 'mimesis of intellect' I mean those passages in which they prove that something is or is not the case or deliver themselves of some general statement. Fourth comes the expression of the spoken parts, by which I mean, as I said before, the expression of thought in words; the meaning is the same whether verse or prose is in question. Of the others, which are there to give pleasure, song-writing is the most important, while spectacle, though attractive, has least to do with art— with the art of poetry, that is; for a work is potentially a tragedy even without public performance and players, and the art of the stagedesigner contributes more to the perfection of spectacle than the poet's does. CHAPTER 7

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Now that these definitions are out of the way, I want to consider what the arrangement of the particular actions should be like, since that is the prime and most important element of tragedy. Now, we have settled that a tragedy is a mimesis of a complete, that is, of a whole action, 'whole' here implying some amplitude (there can be a whole without amplitude). By 'whole' I mean 'with a beginning, a middle, and an end'. By 'beginning' [in this context] I mean 'that which is not necessarily the consequent of something else, but has some state or happening naturally consequent on it', by 'end' 'a state that is the necessary or usual consequent of something else, but has itself no such consequent', by 'middle' 'that which is consequent and has consequents'. Well-ordered plots, then, will exhibit these characteristics, and will not begin or end just anywhere. It is not enough for beauty that a thing, whether an animal or anything else composed of parts, should have those parts well ordered; since beauty consists in amplitude as well as in order, the thing must also have amplitude—and not just any amplitude. Though a very small creature could not be beautiful, since our view loses all distinctness when it comes near to taking no perceptible time, an enormously ample one could not be beautiful either, since our view of it is not simultaneous, so that we lose the sense of its unity and wholeness as we look it over; imagine, for instance, an animal a thousand miles long. Animate and inanimate bodies, then, must have amplitude, but no more than can be taken in at one view; and similarly a plot must

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have extension, but no more than can be easily remembered. What is, 5 for the poetic art, the limit of this extension? Certainly not that imposed by the contests and by perception. . . . As the limit imposed by the actual nature of the thing, one may suggest 'the ampler the 10 better, provided it remains clear as a whole', or, to give a rough specification, 'sufficient amplitude to allow a probable or necessary succession of particular actions to produce a change from bad to good or from good to bad fortune'. !j CHAPTER 8

Unity of plot is not, as some think, achieved by writing about one man; for just as the one substance admits innumerable incidental properties, which do not, some of them, make it a such-and-such, so one man's actions are numerous and do not make up any single action. That is why I think the poets mistaken who have produced Heracleids or Theseids or other poems of the kind, in the belief that the plot would be one just because Heracles was one. Homer especially shows his superiority in taking a right view here—whether by art or nature: in writing a poem on Odysseus he did not introduce everything that was incidentally true of him, being wounded on Parnassus, for instance, or pretending to be mad at the mustering of the fleet, neither of which necessarily or probably implied the other at all; instead he composed the Odyssey about an action that is one in the sense I mean, and the same is true of the Iliad. In the other mimetic arts a mimesis is one if it is a mimesis of one object; and in the same way a plot, being a mimesis of an action, should be a mimesis of one action and that a whole one, with the different sections so arranged that the whole is disturbed by the transposition and destroyed by the removal of any one of them; for if it makes no visible difference whether a thing is there or not, that thing is no part of the whole.

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CHAPTER 9 What I have said also makes plain that the poet's job is saying not what did happen but the sort of thing that would happen, that is, what can happen in a strictly probable or necessary sequence. The difference between the historian and the poet is not merely that one writes verse and the other prose—one could turn Herodotus' work into verse and it would be just as much history as before; the essential difference is that

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the one tells us what happened and the other the sort of thing that would happen. That is why poetry is at once more like philosophy and more worth while than history, since poetry tends to make general statements, while those of history are particular. A 'general statement' means [in this context] one that tells us what sort of man would, probably or necessarily, say or do what sort of things, and this is what poetry aims at, though it attaches proper names; a particular statement on the other hand tells us what Alcibiades, for instance, did or what happened to him. That poetry does aim at generality has long been obvious in the case of comedy, where the poets make up the plot from a series of probable happenings and then give the persons any names they like, instead of writing about particular people as the lampooners did. In tragedy, however, they still stick to the actual names; this is because it is what is possible that arouses conviction, and while we do not without more ado believe that what never happened is possible, what did happen is clearly possible, since it would not have happened if it were not. Though as a matter of fact, even in some tragedies most names are invented and only one or two well known: in Agathon's Antheus, for instance, the names as well as the events are made up, and yet it gives just as much pleasure. So one need not try to stick at any cost to the traditional stories, which are the subject of tragedies; indeed the attempt would be absurd, since even what is well known is well known only to a few, but gives general pleasure for all that. It is obvious from all this that the poet should be considered a maker of plots, not of verses, since he is a poet qua maker of mimesis and the objects of his mimesis are actions. Even if it is incidentally true that the plot he makes actually happened, that does not mean he is not its maker; for there is no reason why some things that actually happen should not be the sort of thing that would probably happen, and it is in virtue of that aspect of them that he is their maker. Of defective plots or actions the worst are the episodic, those, I mean, in which the succession of the episodes is neither probable nor necessary; bad poets make these on their own account, good ones because of the judges; for in aiming at success in the competition and stretching the plot more than it can bear they often have to distort the natural order. Tragedy is a mimesis not only of a complete action, but also of things arousing pity and fear, emotions most likely to be stirred when things happen unexpectedly but because of each other (this arouses more

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surprise than mere chance events, since even chance events seem more marvellous when they look as if they were meant to happen— take the case of the statue of Mitys in Argos killing Mitys' murderer by falling on him as he looked at it; for we do not think that things like this are merely random); so such plots will necessarily be the best.

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Some plots are simple, some complex, since the actions of which the plots are mimesis fall naturally into the same two classes. By 'simple action' I mean one that is continuous in the sense defined and is a unity and where the change of fortune takes place without peripeteia or recognition, by 'complex' one where the change of fortune is accompanied by peripeteia or recognition or both. The peripeteia and recognition should arise just from the arrangement of the plot, so that it is necessary or probable that they should follow what went before; for there is a great difference between happening next and happening as a result.

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A peripeteia occurs when the course of events takes a turn to the opposite in the way described,3 the change being also probable or necessary in the way I said. For example, in the Oedipus, when the man came and it seemed that he would comfort Oedipus and free him from 25 his fear about his mother, by revealing who he was he in fact did the opposite. Again in the Lynceus, Lynceus was being led off and it seemed that he would be put to death and that Danaus who was with him would kill him, but the earlier actions produced Danaus' death and Lynceus' release. Recognition is, as its name indicates, a change from ignorance to 30 knowledge, tending either to affection or to enmity; it determines in the direction of good or ill fortune the fates of the people involved. The best sort of recognition is that accompanied by peripeteia, like that in the Oedipus. There are of course other kinds of recognition. For a recognition of the sort described can be a recognition of inanimate objects, indeed of quite indifferent ones, and one can also recognize 35 whether someone has committed an act or not. But the one mentioned has most to do with the plot, that is, most to do with the action; for a 3 That is, in a way involving surprise.

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recognition accompanied by peripeteia in this way will involve either pity or fear, and tragedy is by definition a mimesis of actions that rouse these emotions; it is moreover such recognitions that lead to good or bad fortune. Since recognition involves more than one person, in some cases only one person will recognize the other, when it is clear who the former is, and sometimes each has to recognize the other: Orestes, for example, recognized Iphigenia from her sending the letter, but a second recognition was necessary for her to recognize him. These then are two elements of the plot, and a third is pathos. I have dealt with the first two, peripeteia and recognition. A pathos is an act involving destruction or pain, for example deaths on stage and physical agonies and woundings and so on. So much for the parts of tragedy that one ought to use as qualitative elements. C H A P T E R 13

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What ought one to aim at and beware of in composing plots? And what is the source of the tragic effect? These are the questions that naturally follow from what I have now dealt with. Well, the arrangement of tragedy at its best should be complex, not simple, and it should also present a mimesis of things that arouse fear and pity, as this is what is peculiar to the tragic mimesis. So it is clear that one should not show virtuous men passing from good to bad fortune, since this does not arouse fear or pity, but only a sense of outrage. Nor should one show bad men passing from bad to good fortune, as this is less tragic than anything, since it has none of the necessary requirements; it neither satisfies our human feeling nor arouses pity and fear. Nor should one show a quite wicked man passing from good to bad fortune; it is true that such an arrangement would satisfy our human feeling, but it would not arouse pity or fear, since the one is felt for someone who comes to grief without deserving it, and the other for someone like us (pity, that is, for the man who does not deserve his fate, and fear for someone like us); so this event will not arouse pity or fear. So we have left the man between these. He is one who is not pre-eminent in moral virtue, who passes to bad fortune not through vice or wickedness, but because of some piece of ignorance, and who is of high repute and great good fortune, like Oedipus and Thyestes and the splendid men of such families.

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So the good plot must have a single line of development, not a double one as some people say; that line should go from good fortune to bad and not the other way round; the change should be produced not through wickedness, but through some large-scale piece of 15 ignorance; the person ignorant should be the sort of man I have described—certainly not a worse man, though perhaps a better one. This is borne out by the facts: at first the poets recounted any story that came to hand, but nowadays the best tragedies are about a few families only, for example, Akmaeon, Oedipus, Orestes, Meleager, 20 Thyestes, Telephus, and others whose lot it was to suffer or commit fearful acts. Well then, the best tragedy, judged from the standpoint of the tragic art, comes from this sort of arrangement. That is why those who censure Euripides for doing this in his tragedies and making many of 25 them end with disaster are making just the same mistake. For this is correct in the way I said. The greatest proof of this is that on the stage and in the contests such plays are felt to be the most properly tragic, if they are well managed, and Euripides, even if he is a bad manager in the other points, is at any rate the most tragic of the poets. 30 Second comes the sort of arrangement that some people say is the best: this is the one that has a double arrangement of the action like the Odyssey, and ends with opposite fortunes for the good and bad people. It is thought to be the best because of the weakness of the audiences; for the poets follow the lead of the spectators and make plays to their 35 specifications. But this is not the pleasure proper to tragedy, but rather belongs to comedy; for in comedy those who are most bitter enemies throughout the plot, as it might be Orestes and Aegisthus, are reconciled at the end and go off and nobody is killed by anybody. C H A P T E R 14 Now though pity and fear can be elicited by the spectacle, they can also be elicited just by the arrangement of the particular actions [that make up the plot], and this is a prior consideration and the sign of a better poet. For the plot ought to be so composed that even without seeing the action, a man who just hears what is going on shudders and feels pity because of what happens; this one would feel on hearing the plot of the Oedipus, for instance. But to produce this effect via the spectacle has less to do with the art of tragedy and needs external aids. To go further and use the spectacle to produce something that is

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merely monstrous, instead of something that rouses fear, is to depart entirely from tragedy. For one should look to tragedy for its own pleasure, not just any pleasure; and since the poet's job is to produce the pleasure springing from pity and fear via mimesis, this clearly ought to be present in the elements of the action. What sort of events, then, do seem apt to rouse fear, or [rather] pity? This is my next subject. In such actions, people must do something to those closely connected with them, or to enemies, or to people to whom they are indifferent. Now, if it is a case of two enemies, this arouses no particular pity, whether the one damages the other or only intends to; or at least, pity is felt only at the pathos considered in itself. The same is true in the case when people are indifferent to each other. The cases we must look for are those where the pathos involves people closely connected, for instance where brother kills brother, son father, mother son, or son mother—or if not kills, then means to kill, or does some other act of the kind. Well, one cannot interfere with the traditional stories, cannot, for instance, say that Clytaemestra was not killed by Orestes or Eriphyle by Alcmaeon; what one should do is invent for oneself and use the traditional material well. Let me explain more clearly what I mean by 'well'. One can make the act be committed as the ancient poets did, that is, with the agents knowing and aware [whom they are damaging]; even Euripides has the example of Medea killing her children with full knowledge. [And they can have knowledge and not act.] Or they can commit the deed that rouses terror without knowing to whom they are doing it, and later recognize the connection, like Sophocles' Oedipus; this indeed happens outside the play, but we have examples in the tragedy itself, for example, Astydamas' Alcmaeon and Telegonus in the Wounded Odysseus. Again, apart from these one might through ignorance intend to do something irreparable, and then recognize the victim-to-be before doing it. These are the only possible ways, as they must either do it or not, and in knowledge or ignorance. The worst of these is to have the knowledge and the intention and then not do it; for this is both morally outraging and untragic— 'untragic' because it involves no pathos. That is why nobody does behave in this way except very rarely, as Haemon, for example, means to kill Creon in the Antigone. The second worst is doing it: the better form of this is when the character does it in ignorance, and recognizes his victim afterwards; for this involves no feeling of outrage and the recognition produces lively surprise. But the best is the last, for

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example, the case in the Cresphontes where Merope means to kill her son and does not, but recognizes him instead, and the case involving brother and sister in the Iphigenia in Tauris; again in the Helle the son recognized his mother when on the point of giving her up. As I said before, this is why tragedies are about very few families. As it was not art but chance that led the poets in their search to the discovery of how to produce this effect in their plots, they have to go to the families in which such pathe occurred. So much for the arrangement of the particular acts and the qualities required of plots.

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C H A P T E R 15 In the representation of character, there are four things that one ought to aim at: (a) First and foremost, the characters represented should be morally good. The speech or action will involve mimesis of character if it makes plain, as said before, the nature of the person's moral choice, and the character represented will be good if the choice is good. This is possible in each class: for example, a woman is good and so is a 20 slave, though the one is perhaps inferior, and the other generally speaking low-grade. (b) The characters represented should be suitable: for example, the character represented is brave, but it is not suitable for a woman to be brave or clever in this way. (c) They should be life-like; this is different from the character's being good and suitable in the way I used 'suitable'. 25 (d) They should be consistent: for even if the subject of the mimesis is an inconsistent person, and that is the characteristic posited of him, still he ought to be consistently inconsistent. In the representation of character as well as in the chain of actions one ought always to look for the necessary or probable, so that it is necessary or probable that a person like this speaks or acts as he does, 35 and necessary or probable that this happens after that. Clearly then, the denouements of plots ought to arise just from the mimesis of i454b character, and not from a contrivance, a deus ex machina, as in the Medea and in the events in the Iliad about the setting off. The contrivance should be used instead for things outside the play, either all that happened beforehand that a human being could not know, or

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all that happens later and needs foretelling and reporting; for we attribute omniscience to the gods. In the particular actions themselves there should be nothing irrational, and if there is it should be outside the tragedy, like that of Sophocles' Oedipus. Since a tragedy is a mimesis of people better than are found in the world, one ought to do the same as the good figure-painters; for they too give us the individual form, but though they make people lifelike they represent them as more beautiful than they are. Similarly the poet too in representing people as irascible and lazy and morally deficient in other ways like that, ought nevertheless to make them good, as Homer makes Achilles both good and an example of harsh self-will.... C H A P T E R 19

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As I have dealt with the other qualitative elements, I now have to talk about the representation of intellect and about verbal expression. The representation of intellect we may take to be covered by the Rhetoric; for it does belong rather to that inquiry. What is involved in the representation of intellect is every effect to be produced by speech. Its sections are proof and disproof, rousing emotion (pity, fear, anger, and so on), making a thing look important or unimportant. Clearly in the plot too one ought to proceed from just these same main heads, when one needs to produce an effect of pity or fear, likelihood or importance. There is some difference, though; in the action these should be obvious without one's being told, whereas the other effects should be produced in words by the person using them and should result from his words, as the speaker would be quite unnecessary if the desired result were obvious without his saying anything. So far as verbal expression goes, one branch of inquiry is that into the forms of speech. Knowledge of this really falls under the study of delivery and is the province of the expert in that subject. I mean such questions as 'What is a command, a wish, a statement, a threat, a question, an answer?' and so on. A poet's knowledge or ignorance in this sphere does not leave him open to any critical censure worth bothering about. For anyone would think pretty trivial the fault censured by Protagoras, when he says: 'Homer thinks he is beginning with a prayer and in fact uses a command, when he says, "Sing of the wrath, goddess", since to tell somebody to do something or not is a command.' So let us leave that alone, since it belongs to another field and not to poetry.

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C H A P T E R 20

Verbal expression as a whole has the following parts: element, 20 syllable, linking word, articulatory word, noun, verb, termination, statement. An element is an indivisible sound, not any sound, but that capable of producing intelligible utterance; for some animals produce indivisible sounds, which I do not, however, call elements. This class has three subdivisions: sounded, half-sounded, and soundless.4 A 25 sounded element is that which has an audible sound without any contact occurring. A half-sounded element is one that produces an audible sound when contact does occur: such are s and r. A soundless element is one where contact occurs without the element itself having any audible sound, though it is audible when combined with elements that have audible sound: such are g and d. The elements in these three 30 classes can be further classified, according to the shape of the mouth, the place of contact, rough or smooth breathing, length or shortness of quantity, and accent, acute, grave, or intermediate. One can investigate the subject further in works on metric. A syllable is a composite non-significant sound made up of a voice- 35 less element and one with voice: gr, for example, is a syllable by itself without a, and also if a is added to make gra. But the investigation of this too is a matter of metric. A linking word is (a) a non-significant sound which neither 1457* prevents nor produces the formation from a number of sounds of one significant utterance; it ought not to stand alone at the beginning of a statement: examples are men, toi, de, de [the linking particles]; (V) a non-significant sound that naturally produces from a plurality of 5 sounds that nevertheless signify one thing a single significant utterance: examples are amphi, peri, and the rest [of the prepositions]. An articulatory word (arthron) is a non-significant sound that indicates the beginning or end or dividing point of a statement; it is naturally put at either end (?) of a statement or in the middle. 10 A noun is a composite significant sound with no temporality, and made up of parts not in themselves significant. For in compound words we do not take the parts to be significant in themselves; in Theodorus, for example, the doron has no significance. A verb is a composite significant sound with temporality, and, like a noun, is made up of parts not in themselves significant; by 'with 15 1

In modern terminology: vowels, fricatives, and stops.

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temporality' I mean that, while 'man' and 'white' do not signify when, 'walks' and 'walked' do signify present and past time respectively. Termination is the part of a noun or verb that signifies case and number and also the part concerned with delivery, for example, question and command: 'Did he walk?' and 'Walk' show terminations of the verb under the sections of this class. A statement is a composite significant sound whose separate parts are themselves significant; I give this definition because not every statement is made up of nouns and verbs—the definition of man, for instance; one can, that is, have a statement with no verb, but it will always have a significant part. A statement is one statement in two senses: (a) as signifying one thing, (b) by being composed of a plurality of statements: the Iliad, for example, is one as being composite, and the definition of man as signifying one thing.

Topics

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LIST OF TOPICS Action Akrasia

Being (Existence) Biology Categories Causes Change Contradiction, Law of [Cosmology: see God] Definition Deliberation and Choice Determinism Dialectic [Energeia (Activity): see Change] Essence Eudaimonia (the Good for Man) Form and Matter Friendship God (the Unmoved Mover) Identity and Unity Imagination Individuation Infinity Justice Knowledge Matter Meaning

Memory Metaphysics [Movement: see Action and Change] Necessity and Possibility Plato (Aristotle's Criticism of the Theory of Forms) Pleasure Poetry Political Philosophy Practical Wisdom Predication Responsibility (the Voluntary and Involuntary) Science, Theory of Sense-perception Soul Substance Syllogism Teleological Explanation Thought Time Truth Universals Virtue [Zeno's Paradoxes: see Infinity]

ABBREVIATIONS AA (i, 2, 3, 4) AGP AJP Ar.Soc.Proc. Ar.Soc.Sup. Vol. CQ J.H.Ideas J.H.Ph. JHS J.Ph.Logic J.Ph. OSAP PQ PR Ph. Ph. ofSc. Rev. of Met. Rev.Ph.

Articles on Aristotle, ed. Barnes,J., Schofield, M., and Sorabji, R., London,i975-g. (Volumes 1-4) Archivfiir Geschichte der Philosophic American Journal of Philology Aristotelian Society Proceedings Aristotelian Society Supplementary Volume Classical Quarterly Journal of History of Ideas Journal of History of Philosophy Journal of Hellenic Studies Journal of Philosophical Logic Journal of Philosophy Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy Philosophical Quarterly Philosophical Review Philosophy Philosophy of Science Review of Metaphysics Revue Philosophique

TOPICS Action EN III. 1-5, VI. 2,4, VII. 3; M^ 6-7;DeAn. III. 9-11. Milo, cc. i and 2; Hardie, c. 12; Cooper, c. i; Kenny (3), Part Three; Nussbaum, Essays 4 and 5; Charles, c. 2. D. J. Allan, 'The Practical Syllogism', in Autourd'Aristote. G. E. M. Anscombe, 'Thought and Action in Aristotle', in AA 2. M. Mothersill, 'Anscombe's Account of the Practical Syllogism', PR 1962. J. L. Ackrill, 'Aristotle on Action', in Rorty. M. T. Thornton, 'Aristotelian Practical Reason', Mind 1982. D. Charles, 'Aristotle's Ontology and Moral Reasoning', OSAP 1986. See also: Deliberation and Choice; Practical Wisdom.

Akrasia ENVll.i-io. Hardie, c. 13; Milo, c. 3; Kenny (3), c. 14; Charles, c. 3; Dahl, Part Two. R. Robinson, 'Aristotle on Akrasia', in AA 2. G. Santas, 'Aristotle on Practical Inference, the Explanation of Action, and Akrasia', Phronesis 1969. D. Davidson, 'How is Weakness of Will Possible?', in Feinberg and in Davidson. D. Wiggins, 'Weakness of Will, Commensurability, and the Objects of Deliberation and Desire', in Rorty. J. H. McDowell, 'Are Moral Requirements Hypothetical Imperatives?', Ar.Soc.Sup.Vol. 1978. G. Watson, 'Skepticism about Weakness of Will', PR 1977. See also: Action; Deliberation and Choice; Practical Wisdom. Being (Existence) Met. V. 7, VII. 1-2, VIII. 2; DeInt. i6bi9-2s, 2i"i8-33. Kahn, c. 2; Mansion, pp. 218-53. G. E. L. Owen, 'Aristotle in the Snares of Ontology', in Bambrough. M. J. Woods, 'Existence and Tense', in Evans and McDowell. See also: Metaphysics; Categories.

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Topic References

Biology PA (esp.Iandll. i);GA. Peck (i), Introduction; Peck (2), Preface and Introduction; Balme; Boylan; Gotthelf; Gotthelf and Lennox. D. M. Balme, 'Aristotle's Use of Differentiae in Zoology', in AA i. A. Preus, 'Science and Philosophy in Aristotle's Generation of Animals', Journal of the History of Biology, 1970. D. M. Balme, 'Aristotle: Natural History and Zoology', in Gillispie. [For animal movement see Nussbaumon MA 6-nJ See also: Teleological Explanation; Definition; Soul.

Categories Cat. 1-5; Top. I. 9; Met. V. 7, VII. i. [Cat. 6-9; An. Post. I. 27.43*25-43.] Ross (i), p. Ixxxii-xc; Ackrill (i), pp. 71-91. C. M. Gillispie, 'The Aristotelian Categories', in AA 3. A. Kosman, 'Aristotle's First Predicament', Rev. of Met. 1967. C. L. Stough, 'Language and Ontology in Aristotle's Categories', J.H.Ph. 1972. J. L. Ackrill, 'Aristotle on "Good" and the Categories', in AA 2. B.Jones, 'An Introduction to the First Five Chapters of Aristotle's Categories', Phronesis 1975.

G. E. L. Owen, The Platonism of Aristotle', inAAi. M. Frede, 'Categories in Aristotle', in O'Meara. J. Malcolm, 'On the Generation and Corruption of the Categories', Rev. of Met. 1981. See also: Predication; Substance.

Causes Phys. II. 3-7; Met. VI. 2. [Met. I; An. Post. II. n; Met. V. 2, V. 30.] Ross (2), pp. 33-44; Charlton, pp. 98-120; Kirwan, pp. 124-8, 180-2; Ackrill (3), pp. 36-41; Sorabji (2), cc. 2-3. D. J. Allan, 'Causality Ancient and Modern', Ar.Soc.Sup. Vol. 1965. R. K. Sprague, 'The Four Causes: Aristotle's Exposition and Ours', Monist 1968. M. Hocutt, 'Aristotle's Four Becauses', Ph. 1974. J. Annas, 'Aristotle on Inefficient Causes' (part III), PQ 1982. See also: Teleological Explanation; Necessity and Possibility; Science.

Change Phys. III. 1-3; Met. IX. 6.io48bi8-35. [Phys. V-VII, VIII. 4; GC 1.4-5.] Ross (2), pp. 44-8; Hussey, pp. 57-72; Waterlow (i), c. 3; Sorabji (3), c. 26.

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A. L. Peck, 'Aristotle on kinesis', in Anton and Kustas. G. Boas, 'Aristotle's Presuppositions about Change', AJP 1947. L. A. Kosman, 'Aristotle's Definition of Motion', Phronesis 1967. J. Owens, 'Aristotle—Motion as Actuality of the Imperfect', Paideia 1978. [On Aristotle's distinction between change (kinesis) and activity (energeia) see: J. L. Ackrill, 'Aristotle's distinction between Energeia and Kinesis', in Bambrough. T. Penner, 'Verbs and the Identity of Actions', in Pitcher and Wood. Gosling and Taylor, c. 16. Waterlow (i), pp. 183-203.] See also: Matter; God; Time. Contradiction, Law of Met. IV. 3-6. [Met. XI. 5, 6.]

Ross (4), pp. 159-63; Kirwan, pp. 86-116; Anscombe and Geach, pp.39~4s; Lear, c. 6. J. Lukasiewicz, 'Aristotle on the Law of Contradiction', in AA 3. J. Barnes, 'The Law of Contradiction", PQ 1969. H. W. Noonan, 'An Argument of Aristotle on Non-contradiction', Analysis 1977. H. Weidemann, 'In Defence of Aristotle's Theory of Predication', Phronesis 1980 (pp. 76-80). [On Aristotle's argument against relativism in Met. IV see: A. Kenny, 'The Argument from Illusion in Aristotle's Metaphysics (F.iocK)10)', Mind 1967. M. C. Scholar, 'Aristotle Met. ioiobi-3', Mind 1971. J. D. G. Evans, 'Aristotle on Relativism', PQ_ 1974. F. C. T. Moore, 'Evans off Target', PQ_ 1975.] See also: Dialectic.

Definition An. Post. II. 1-13; Top. I. 5-6; Met. VII. 4,10-12; VIII. 2, 6; PA I. 2-3. Ross (4), p. 49-54; Cherniss, pp. 27-63; Sorabji (2), cc. 12-13. J. M. Le Blond, 'Aristotle on Definition', in AA 3. R. Rorty, 'Genus as Matter: a Reading of Metaphysics Z. 11', in Lee, Mourelatos, and Rorty. M. Grene, 'Is Genus to Species as Matter to Form?', Synthese 1974. R. Sorabji, 'Definitions: Why Necessary and in What Way', in Berti. J. L. Ackrill, 'Aristotle's Theory of Definition: Some Questions on Posterior Analytics II. 8-10', in Berti.

564

Topic References

A. Gomez-Lobo, 'Definitions in Aristotle's Posterior Analytics' in O'Meara. See also: Essence; Causes; Science; Biology.

Deliberation and Choice EN III. 2-4; EE II. 6-10. [Rhet. I. 4-7.] Hardie, c. 9; Kenny (3), Part Two; Cooper, c. i. G. E. M. Anscombe, 'Thought and Action in Aristotle', in AA 2. R. Sorabji, 'Aristotle on the Role of Intellect in Virtue', in Rorty. D. Wiggins, 'Deliberation and Practical Reason', in Rorty. See also: Practical Wisdom; Action; Akrasia.

Determinism Delnt. 9; GC II. 11; Met. VI. 2-3. Ackrill (i), pp. 132-42; Kneale and Kneale, pp. 46-54; Hintikka, c. 8; Sorabji (2), c. 5; Waterlow (2), c. 5; Williams, pp. 197-210; Kirwan, pp. 18998. G. E. M. Anscombe, 'Aristotle and the Sea-battle', in Moravcsik. C. Strang, 'Aristotle and the Sea-battle', Mind 1960. L. D. Harris, 'Solving the "Naval Battle"', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1977/8. M. J. White, 'Fatalism and Causal Determinism', PQ_ 1981. D. Frede, 'The Sea Battle Reconsidered: a Defence of the Traditional Interpretation', OSAP 1985. See also: Necessity and Possibility; Causes.

Dialectic Top. I; Met. IV. 2.ioo4bi7-26. [Top. II-VIII; Soph. El. 2, 11, 34; Rhet. I. 1-3.] Hardie, pp. 37-45, 365-8; Ackrill (3), pp. 110-15; Evans, c. 2; Brunschwig, pp. xviii-lv. G. E. L. Owen,'Tithenai taPhainomena', in AA i. W. Wieland, 'Aristotle's Physics and the Problem of Inquiry into Principles', inAA i. F. Solmsen, 'Dialectic without the Forms', in Owen. G. Ryle, 'Dialectic in the Academy', in Owen. M. C. Nussbaum, 'Saving Aristotle's Appearances', in Schofield and Nussbaum (pp. 284-8). T. H. Irwin, 'Aristotle's Methods of Ethics', in O'Meara. M. Galston, 'Aristotle's Dialectic, Refutation, and Inquiry', Dialogue 1982.

Essence Met. VII 4-6, lo-ii, 17. Ross (i), pp. xciv-c, cxi-cxiv; Hartman, c. 2.

Topic References

565

I. M. Copi, 'Essence and Accident', in Moravcsik. N. P. White, 'Origins of Aristotle's Essentialism', Rev. of Met. 1972. M. J. Woods, 'Substance and Essence in Aristotle', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1974/5. S. M. Cohen, 'Individual and Essences in Aristotle's Metaphysics', Paideia 1978. M. Furth, Transtemporal Stability in Aristotelian Substances',^/"/!. 1978. A. Code, 'Aristotle: Essence and Accident', in Grandy and Warner. See also: Definition; Substance; Individuation. Eudaimonia (the Good for Man) EN I. i-s, 7-12; X. 6-8; EE I. 1-5; II. i; VIII. 3; Pol. VII. 1-3. Cooper, c. 2; Hardie, c. 2 and pp. 359-65; Engberg-Pedersen, cc. i, 4. W. F. R. Hardie, 'The Final Good in Aristotle's Ethics', Ph. 1965. A. Kenny, 'Aristotle on Happiness', in AA 2 and in Feinberg. T. Nagel, 'Aristotle on Eudaimonia', in Rorty. J. L. Ackrill, 'Aristotle on Eudaimonia', in Rorty. D. Keyt, 'Intellectualism in Aristotle', Paideia 1978. T. H. Irwin, 'The Metaphysical and Psychological Basis of Aristotle's Ethics', in Rorty. R. Kraut, 'Two Conceptions of Happiness', PR 1979. W. F. R. Hardie, 'Aristotle on the Best Life for a Man', Ph. 1979. K. V. Wilkes, 'The Good Man and the Good for Man in Aristotle's Ethics', in Rorty. J. H. McDowell, 'The Role of Eudaimonia in Aristotle's Ethics', in Rorty. N. P. White, 'Goodness and Human Aims in Aristotle's Ethics', in O'Meara. D. T. Devereux, 'Aristotle on the Essence of Happiness', in O'Meara. M. V. Wedin, 'Aristotle on the Good for Man', Mind 1981. See also: Virtue; Practical Wisdom. Form and Matter Met. VII. 7-9, n, 17; VIII. 2-3; IX. 7; XII. 1-5. [For other texts and topics see Matter.] Ross (4), pp. 167-76 D. C. Williams, 'Form and Matter', PR 1958. H. Cartwright, 'Heraclitus and the Bath Water', PR 1965. V. C. Chappell, 'Stuff and Things', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1970/1. S. Mansion, 'The Ontological Composition of Sensible Substances in Aristotle', in AA 3. V. Chappell, 'Aristotle's Conception of Matter', J.Ph. 1973. E. Ryan, 'Pure Form in Aristotle", Phronesis 1973. M. J. Loux, 'Form, Species and Predication in Metaphysics Z, H, and 6', Mind 1979.

566

Topic References

G. E. L. Owen, 'Particular and General', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1978/9. See also: Matter; Substance; Definition; Individuation. Friendship EN VIII-IX. [EE VII, Rhet. II. 4.] Hardie, c. 15. J. M. Cooper, 'Aristotle on Friendship', in Rorty. E. Telfer, 'Friendship', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1970/1. G. Vlastos, 'The Individual as an Object of Love in Plato', in Vlastos (p. 33). J. Annas, 'Plato and Aristotle on Friendship and Altruism', Mind 1977. W. W. Fortenbaugh, 'Aristotle's Analysis of Friendship: Function and Analogy, Resemblance, and Focal Meaning', Phronesis 1975. C. H. Kahn, 'Aristotle and Altruism', Mind 1981. God (the Unmoved Mover) Met. XII. 6, 7, 9. [Phys. VII. i; VIII. 4-5; MA 2-4.] Guthrie (i), pp. xv-xxxvi; Ross (i), pp. cxxx-cliv; Ross (2), pp. 85-102; Ross (4), pp. 179-186; Ackrill (3), pp. 128-34; Clark, pp. 174-90; Waterlow (i), c. 5; Nussbaum, pp. 125-42. G. Vlastos, 'A Note on the Unmoved Mover', PQ 1963. R. Norman, 'Aristotle's Philosopher-God', in AA 4. H. J. Easterling, 'The Unmoved Mover in Early Aristotle', Phronesis 1976. J. Owens, 'The Relation of God to World in the Metaphysics', in Aubenque. See also: Change; Thought. Identity and Unity Delnt. 11; Top. i. 7; Met. VI 2; X. i. N. P. White, 'Aristotle on Sameness and Oneness', PR 1971. F. D. Miller, 'Did Aristotle have the Concept of Identity?', PR 1973. A. Code, 'Aristotle's Response to Quine's Objections to Modal Logic', J.Ph.Logic 1976. G. B. Matthews, 'Accidental Unities', in Schofield and Nussbaum. See also: Essence. Imagination DeAn. III. 3,8, 10; DeMem. i; MA 6-n. [Delnsomn. i.459"8-22, 2.46ob2-27, 3.46i"25-462"3i.] Beare, pp. 290-307; Hamlyn, pp. 129-35; R°ss (6)> PP- 32-3; Nussbaum, pp. 221-69. K. Lycos, 'Aristotle and Plato on Appearing', Mind 1964.

Topic References

567

D. A. Rees, 'Aristotle's Treatment of Phantasia', in Anton and Kustas. M. Schofield, 'Aristotle on the Imagination', in Lloyd and Owen, and in AA 4. J. Engmann, 'Imagination and Truth in Aristotle', jt.H.Ph. 1976. See also: Memory; Thought; Sense-perception. Individuation Met. V. 6.ioi6b3i-5; VII. 8.1034*5-8, io.i035b27-io36*25,11.1037*5-10, °25-b7, I5.i039b2o-i040"7; VIII. 1.1042*26-31, 3.io43a29-b4; X. 9.io58bs-i2; XII. 3.io7o"9-i3, 5.1071*27-9, 8.1074*31-8; De An. II. 1.412*6-9; De Caelo I. 9.277b27-278b8.

Ross (i), pp. cxv-cxix; Ross (4), pp. 169-73; Hartman, c. 2. G. E. M. Anscombe, 'The Principle of Individuation', in AA 3. R. Albritton, 'Forms of Particular Substances in Aristotle's Metaphysics', Jfh. 1957A. C. Lloyd, 'Aristotle's Principle of Individuation', Mind 1970. W. Charlton, 'Aristotle and the Principle of Individuation', Phronesis 1972. R. D. Sykes, 'Form in Aristotle: Universal or Particular', Ph. 1975. E. Regis, 'Aristotle's Principle of Individuation', Phronesis 1976. G. E. L. Owen, 'Particular and General', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1978/9. D. K. Modrak, 'Forms, Types, and Tokens in Aristotle's Metaphysics', Rev.of Met. 1981. See also: Matter; Form and Matter; Essence; Soul. Infinity Phys. III. 4-8; De Caelo i. 5-7. Ross (2), pp. 48-53; Hussey, pp. 72-98. J. Hintikka, 'Aristotelian Infinity', in AA 3 and in Hintikka (c. 6). D. J. Furley, 'Aristotle and the Atomists on Infinity', in During. D. Bostock, 'Aristotle, Zeno and the Potential Infinite', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1972/3. [On Zeno's paradoxes see: Phys. VI (especially c. 9); VIII. 8. Ross (2), pp. 71-85; Sorabji (3) c. 21. G. E. L. Owen, 'Zeno and the Mathematicians', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1957/8. G. Vlastos, 'Zeno's Race-course', J.H.Ph. 1966. G. Vlastos, 'A Note on Zeno's Arrow', Phronesis 1966. G. Vlastos, 'Zeno', in Edwards vol. 8. R. Sorabji, 'The Instant of Change', in AA 3.] See also: Change; Time.

568

Topic References

Justice EN V. [Rhet. 1.13; Pol. III. 10.] Ross (4), pp. 209-15; Hardie, c. 10; Hamburger, Part II; Leyden. D. J. Allan, 'Individual and State in Aristotle's Ethics and Polities', in Fondation Hardt. H. Kelsen, 'Aristotle's Doctrine of Justice', in Walsh and Shapiro. R. Bambrough, 'Aristotle on Justice, a Paradigm of Philosophy', in Bambrough. B. A. O. Williams, 'Justice as a Virtue', in Rorty. M. I. Finley, 'Aristotle and Economic Analysis', in AA 2. See also-.Virtue; Political Philosophy. Knowledge Met. XIII. 10.1087*10-25; De An. II. 54i7"2i-9. [Met. III. 4.999."24-ioooa4; 6.ioo3a5-i7.] Ross (i), pp. cviii-cx; Annas, pp. 190-2. W. Leszl, 'Knowledge of the Universal and Knowledge of the Particular in Aristotle', Rev.of. Met. 1972. J. Owens, 'The Grounds of Universality in Aristotle', in Owens (2). See also: Thought; Science. Matter Phys. I. 5-9; GC I. 3-4; Met. VII. 3. [De Caeh IV. 5.3i2"3o-bi. GC II. 1-5.] Charlton, pp. 63-87; McMullin, pp. 79-101, 173-217; Ackrill (3), pp. 24-33; Williams, pp. 211-19. H. R. King, 'Aristotle without Prime Matter', J.H.Ideas 1956. F. Solmsen, 'Aristotle and Prime Matter: a reply to King', J.H.Ideas 1958. V. Chappell, 'Aristotle's Conception of Matter', J.Ph. 1973. H. M. Robinson, 'Did Aristotle believe in Prime Matter?', Phronesis 1974. B.Jones, 'Aristotle's Introduction of Matter', PR 1974. P. Suppes, 'Aristotle's Concept of Matter and its Relation to Modern Concepts of Matter', Synthese 1974. J. Brunschwig, 'La Forme, Predicat de la Matiere?', in Aubenque. F. D. Miller, 'Aristotle's Use of Matter', Paideia 1978. D. Bostock, 'Aristotle on the Principles of Change in Physics I', in Schofield and Nussbaum. See also: Change; Form and Matter; Substance; Definition; Individuation.

Topic References

569

Meaning Cat. i; Delnt. 1-4, 8; Top. I. 15; Met. IV. 2.ioo3"33-bi5. [Soph. El. i.] Robins, c. 2; Ackrill (i), pp. 71-3, 113-25, 130-2; Kirwan, pp. 79-80. J. Hintikka, 'Aristotle and the Ambiguity of Ambiguity', in Hintikka. N. Kretzmann, 'Aristotle on Spoken Sound Significant by Convention', in Corcoran. T. Irwin, 'Aristotle's Concept of Signification', in Schofield and Nussbaum. T. Irwin, 'Homonymy in Aristotle', Rev.ojM.et. 1981. See also: Categories; Predication; Metaphysics; Definition. Memory De Mem.

Ross (5), pp. 32-7; Sorabji (i); Beare, pp. 307-25. J. Annas, 'Aristotle on Memory and the Self, OSAP 1986. See also: Imagination; Sense-perception. Metaphysics

Met. I. 1-2; IV. 1-3; VI. i; XII. i. [Met. XI. 3, 4, 7.] Ross (i), pp. Ixxvii-lxxix; Kirwan, pp. 76-90, 183-9; Owens (i), c. 7. G. Patzig, 'Theology and Ontology in Aristotle's Metaphysics', in AA 3. G. E. L. Owen, 'Logic and Metaphysics in Some Earlier Works of Aristotle', in AA 3. T. H. Irwin, 'Aristotle's Discovery of Metaphysics', Rev.ojM.et. 1977-8. P. Merlan, 'On the terms ""Metaphysics" and "Being-qua-Being"', Monist 1968. See also: God. Necessity and Possibility Delnt. 12-13; An.Pr. A. 3, 13; DeCaelo I. 12. Ross (3), pp. 40-7; Ackrill (i), pp. 149-53; Kneale and Kneale, pp.8i-96; Lukasiewicz, cc. 6-8; Patzig, c. 2; Hintikka, cc. 2-5, 7; Waterlow (2), cc. 1-4, 6-8. R. Bluck, 'On the Interpretation of Aristotle, De.Int. 12-13', CQ 1963. C. J. F. Williams, 'Aristotle and Corruptibility', Religious Studies 1965. L. Judson, 'Eternity and Necessity in De Caelo I. 12', OSAP 1983. C. A. Kirwan, 'Aristotle on the Necessity of the Present', OSAP 1986. See also: Syllogism; Determinism.

570

Topic References

Plato (Aristotle's Criticisms of the Theory of Forms) Met. XIII. 4-5. [Met. I. 9. On Ideas fragments 3-4 in Ross (7), revised Oxford translation vol. II, pp. 2435-440.] Annas, pp. 152-62; Cherniss, pp. 226-305. G. E. L. Owen, 'A Proof in the Peri Ideon\ JHS 1957. G. Fine, 'Aristotle and the More Accurate Arguments', in Schofield and Nussbaum. G. E. L. Owen, 'The Platonism of Aristotle', in AA i (pp. 21-5). A. Code, 'On the Origins of some Aristotelian Theses about Predication', in Bogen and McGuire. G. Fine, 'Owen, Aristotle, and the Third Man', Phronesis 1982. [On the Form of Good see EN I. 6 and EE I. 8, with Hardie (c. 4), Woods (pp. 66-92), and J. L. Ackrill, 'Aristotle on "Good" and the Categories' (in AA 2).]

Pleasure ENVll. 11-14; X. i-S- [Rhet. 1.11.] Hardie, c. 14; Kenny (i), c. 6; Gosling and Taylor, cc. 11-17. J. O. Urtnson, 'Aristotle on Pleasure', in Moravcsik. G. E. L. Owen, 'Aristotelian Pleasures', in AA 2. J. C. B. Gosling, 'More Aristotelian Pleasures', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1973/4. J. Annas, 'Aristotle on Pleasure and Goodness', in Rorty. See also: Change [on the distinction between change and activity].

Poetry Poetics. [Politics VIII. 7-i34ib32-i342ai6]. Russell and Winterbottom, c. 3 (esp. pp. 85-9); Russell, pp. 91-3, c. 7; House. J. Bernays, 'Aristotle on the Effect of Tragedy', in AA 4. N. Gulley, 'Aristotle on the Purposes of Literature', in AA 4. R. S. Yanal, 'Aristotle's Definition of Poetry', Nous 1982. I. Smithson, 'The Moral View of Aristotle's Poetics', J.H.Ideas 1983. See also: Imagination.

Political Philosophy Politics. Sinclair and Saunders (good translation with extremely useful chapteranalyses). Mulgan (concise introduction to the Politics and the problems it raises, with a useful bibliography).

Topic Referencess

571

Robinson (on books III-IV); Ross (4), c. 8; Bodeiis (on the relation between ethics and politics in Aristotle). See also: Justice; Friendship. Practical Wisdom EN VI. Hardie, c. n; Milo, c. 3; Cooper, c. 3; Greenwood, Introduction and Section II, esp. pp. 37-73; Engberg-Pedersen, cc. 7-8; Dahl, Part One. D. J. Allan, 'Aristotle's Account of the Origin of Moral Principles', ActesduXI'. Congres International de Philosophic, XII, 1953. T. H. Irwin, 'Aristotle on Reason, Desire, and Virtue', J.Ph. 1975. T. H. Irwin, 'First Principles in Aristotle's Ethics', Midwest Studies in Philosophy III, 1978.

See also: Deliberation and Choice; Action; Eudaimonia. Predication Cat. 1-5; Met. V. 7; VII. i. [An.Post. I. 22.] Ackrill (i), pp. 71-6, 82-8. G. E. L. Owen, 'The Platonism of Aristotle', in AA i (pp. 21-6). H. Weidemann, 'In Defence of Aristotle's Theory of Predication', Phronesis 1980. A. Code, 'On the Origins of some Aristotelian Theses about Predication', in Bogen and McGuire. [On problems arising from Cat. 2 see: G. E. L. Owen, 'Inherence', Phronesis 1965. J. M. E. Moravcsik, 'Aristotle on Predication', PR 1967. G. B. Matthews and S. M. Cohen, 'The One and the Many', Rev.ofMet. 19678. R. E. Allen, 'Individual Properties in Aristotle's Categories', Phronesis 1969. B.Jones, 'Individuals in Aristotle's Categories', Phronesis 1972. J. Annas, 'Individuals in Aristotle's Categories: two Queries', Phronesis 1974. R. E. Allen, 'Substance and Predication in Aristotle's Categories', in Lee, Mourelatos, and Rorty. R. Heinaman, 'Non-substantial Individuals in the Categories', Phronesis 1981.] See also: Categories; Meaning; Universals. Responsibility (the Voluntary and Involuntary) EN III. i,s;V.8.;££II.6-9. Hardie, c. 8; Kenny (3), Part i; Sorabji (2), cc. 14-17. J. L. Austin, 'A Plea for Excuses', in Austin.

572

Topic References

F. A. Siegler, 'Voluntary and Involuntary', Monist 1968. D. J. Furley, 'Aristotle on the Voluntary', in AA 2. W. F. R. Hardie, 'Aristotle and the Freewill Problem', Ph. 1968. T. H. Irwin, 'Reason and Responsibility in Aristotle', in Rorty. J. L. Ackrill, 'An Aristotelian Argument about Virtue', Paideia 1978. R. Hursthouse, 'Acting and Feeling in Character: Nicomachean Ethics III. i', Phronesis 1984. See also: Action; Deliberation and Choice. Science (Theory of) An.Post. I. 1-3,10, 13; II. 19. Ackrill (3), cc. 7-8; Barnes (i) pp. 248-60; Ross (3), 51-75, 84-6; Ross (4), pp. 41-9, 54-4; Gotthelf and Lennox, Part II. J. H. Lesher, 'The Meaning of Nous in the Posterior Analytics', Phronesis 1973. L. A. Kosman, 'Understanding, Explanation and Insight in the Posterior Analytics', in Lee, Mourelatos, and Rorty. H. Scholz, 'The Ancient Axiomatic Theory", in AA i. J. Barnes, 'Aristotle's Theory of Demonstration', in AA i. B. A. Brody, 'Towards an Aristotelian Theory of Scientific Explanation', Ph. of Sc. 1972. M. C. Nussbaum, 'Saving Aristotle's Appearances', in Schofield and Nussbaum. G. E. L. Owen, 'Aristotle: Method, Physics, and Cosmology', in Gillispie, pp. 250-8. M. F. Burnyeat, 'Aristotle on Understanding Knowledge', in Berti. C. H. Kahn, 'The Role of nous in the Cognition of First Principles in Posterior Analytics II. 19', in Berti. J. Barnes, 'Proof and the Syllogism', in Berti. B. C. van Fraassen, 'A Re-examination of Aristotle's Philosophy of Science', Dialogue 1980. See also: Causes; Definition; Biology.

Sense Perception (a) General DeAn. II. 5-!!!. 2; Delnsomn. 2-3. Beare, pp. 215-49,32S-3°;Ross (6) PP- 24~37; Ackrill (3) pp.63-8; Clarke, c. 3. D. W. Hamlyn, 'Aristotle's Account ofAesthesis in the DeAnima'. CQ_ 1959. I. Block, 'Truth and Error in Aristotle's Theory of Sense-Perception', PQ_ 1961. T. Slakey, 'Aristotle on Sense-Perception', PR 1961. R. Sorabji, 'Aristotle on Demarcating the Five Senses', in AA 4.

Topic Referencess

573

J. Owens, 'The University of the Sensible in the Aristotelian Noetic', in Anton and Kustas, and in Owens (2). A. Ben-Zeev, 'Aristotle on Perceptual Truth and Falsity', Apeiron 1984. (b) The 'common sense', and 'incidental sensible!'

De An. II. 6; III. i.42sai4-bn, 3.428bi8-3o; De Mem. i.^^o-^o'z^; De Somno 2; Deluv. 3. [De Sensu i.^-fj-i2, 4.44ib4-io, 7499"2-2o.] Beare, pp. 276-90; Ross (6), pp. 33-6. D. W. Hamlyn,'KoineAesthesis', Monist 1968.

C. H. Kahn, 'Sensation and Conciousness in Aristotle's Psychology', in AA 4. S. Cashdollar, 'Aristotle's Account of Incidental Perception', Phronesis 1973. L. A. Kosman, 'Perceiving that We Perceive', PR 1975. A. Graeser, 'On Aristotle's Framework of Sensibilia' in Lloyd and Owen. Soul DeAn. 1.1,4.4o8a34-b29; II. 1-4. Ackrill (3), c. 5; Wilkes, c. 7; Nussbaum, pp. 146-58; Hartman, c. 4. W. F. R. Hardie, 'Aristotle's Treatment of the Relation between the Soul and the Body', PQ_ 1964. C. H. Kahn, 'Sensation and Consciousness in Aristotle's Psychology', in A4 4 . J. Barnes, 'Aristotle's Concept of Mind', in AA 4. J. L. Ackrill, 'Aristotle's Definitions of Psuche', in AA 4. R. Sorabji, 'Body and Soul in Aristotle', in AA 4. W. F. R. Hardie, 'Concepts of Consciousness in Aristotle', Mind 1976. H. M. Robinson, 'Mind and Body in Aristotle', Cj£) 1978. W. Charlton, 'Aristotle's Definition of Soul', Phronesis 1980. H. M. Robinson, 'Aristotelian Dualism', OSAP 1983. M. Nussbaum, 'Aristotelian Dualism: Reply to Howard Robinson', OSAP 1984. B. Williams, 'Hylomorphism', OSAP 1986. See also: Sense-perception; Thought; Form and Matter; Individuation.

Substance Cat. 5; Met. VII (esp. i, 16,17). Ross (i), pp. xci-cxxiv; Hartman, c. i. S. Mansion, 'The Ontological Composition of Sensible Substances in Aristotle (Met. VII. 7-9)', in AA 3. G. E. L. Owen, 'Particular and General', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1978/9. J. A. Driscoll, 'EIAH in Aristotle's Earlier and Later Theories of Substance', in O'Meara.

574

Topic References

L. A. Kosman, 'Substance, Being, and Energeia', OSAP 1984. See also: Categories; Form; Essence; Metaphysics; Predication; Individuation. Syllogism An.Pr. 1.1-7. Kapp, cc. II-IV; Ross (3), pp. 23-40; Lukasiewicz, c. i; Kneale and Kneale, pp. 67-81; Patzig, c. i; Ackrill (3), c. 6; Lear, c. i. E. Kapp, 'Syllogistic', in AA i. M. Thompson, 'On Aristotle's Square of Opposition', in Moravcsik. T. Smiley, 'What is a Syllogism?', J.Ph.Logic 1973. J. Barnes, 'Proof and the Syllogism', in Berti. See also: Necessity and Possibility. TeleologicalExplanation Phys. II. 8-9; PA 1.1; GA V. 8. Charlton, pp. 120-6; Balme, pp. 93-100; Ackrill (3), pp. 41-54; Sorabji (2), cc. 9-11; Edel, c. 5; Gotthelf and Lennox, Part III. D. M. Balme, 'Greek Science and Mechanism', Q9 1939 and 1941. W. Wieland, The Problem of Teleology', in AA i. D. M. Balme, 'Aristotle's Use ofTeleological Explanation' (Inaugural Lecture, London, 1965). A. Gotthelf, 'Aristotle's Conception of Final Causality', Rev. of Met. 1976. J. M. Cooper, 'Aristotle on Natural Teleology', in Schofield and Nussbaum. See also: Causes; Biology. Thought DeAn. III. 4-8; EN VI; X. 7-8; Met. XII. 7,9; GA II. 3.736*24-737*34; DeMem. i.449b30-45o'li4;/4n./to. II. 19. Hardie, c. 16; Clark, c. ¥.3; Cooper, c. 3. R. Sorabji, 'Myths about Non-propositional Thought', in Schofield and Nussbaum. A. C. Lloyd, 'Non-discursive Thought—an Enigma of Greek Philosophy', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1969/70, S. H. Rosen, Thought and Touch: a note on Aristotle's DeAnima', Phronesis 1961. J. M. Rist, 'Notes on Aristotle DeAnima III. 5', in Anton and Kustas. J. Owens, 'A Note on Aristotle DeAnima III. 4429b9', in Owens (2). R. Norman, 'Aristotle's Philosopher-God', in AA 4. M. F. Lowe, 'Aristotle on Kinds of Thinking', Phronesis 1983. See also: God; Truth; Imagination.

Topic Referencess

575

Time Phys. IV. 10-14. Ross (2), pp. 63-9; Callaghan, c. 2; Hussey, pp. 138-75; Sorabji (3), esp. cc. 2, 4. F. D. Miller, 'Aristotle on the Reality of Time', AGP 1974. G. E. L. Owen, 'Aristotle on Time', in AA 3. J. Annas, 'Aristotle, Number and Time', PQ 1975. D. Corish, 'Aristotle's Attempted Derivation of Temporal Order from that of Movement and Space', Phronesis 1976. J. Moreau, 'Le Temps et 1'Instant selon Aristote', in During. W. Kneale, 'Time and Eternity in Theology', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1960/1. W. von Leyden, 'Time, Number and Eternity in Plato and Aristotle', PQ1964. S. Waterlow, 'Aristotle's Now', PQ 1984. See also: Change. Truth Cat. 54"io-bi9; DeInt. 1-6; Met. ¥1.4; IX. 10; DeAn. III. 6. Ackrill (i), pp. 90-1, 114-15; Kirwan, pp. 198-200. J. Hintikka, 'Time, Truth and Knowledge in Aristotle and Other Greek Philosophers', in Hintikka. E. Berti, 'The Intellection of Indivisibles according to Aristotle De Anima, III. 6', in Lloyd and Owen. P. Aubenque, 'La Pensee du Simple dans Met. Z. 17 et 6.10', in Aubenque. F. Brentano, 'On the Concept of Truth', in Brentano (I. i). M. Matthen, 'Greek Ontology and the "Is" of Truth', Phronesis 1983. See also: Thought. Universals Delnt. 7.i7"38-4i; Met. VII. 13. Ross (i), pp. cvii-cxi. M. J. Woods, 'Problems in Metaphysics Z. 13', in Moravcsik. J. H. Lesher, 'Aristotle on Form, Substance, and Universals', Phronesis 1971. J. Engmann, 'Aristotle's Distinction between Substance and Universal', Phronesis 1973. R. Elugardo, 'Woods on Metaphysics Z. 13', Apeiron 1975. A. Code, 'No Universal is a Substance", Paideia 1978. G. E. L. Owen, 'Particular and General', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1978/9. D. K. Modrak, 'Forms, Types, and Tokens in Aristotle's Metaphysics', Rev.of Met. 1981. See also: Knowledge; Substance.

576

Topic References

Virtue EN 1.13; II; VI. i.ii38bi8-34. [EN III. 6-IV. EE II. 1-5; III; VIII. 1-3.] Hardie, cc. 6-7; Engberg-Pedersen, c. 3; Fortenbaugh, c. 4. W. F. R. Hardie, 'Aristotle's Doctrine that Virtue is a "Mean"', in AA 2. J. O. Urmson, 'Aristotle's Doctrine of the Mean', in Rorty. L. A. Kosman, 'Being Properly Affected: Virtues and Feelings in Aristotle's Ethics', in Rorty. D. F. Pears, 'Courage as a Mean', in Rorty. W. F. R. Hardie '"Magnanimity" in Aristotle's Ethics', Phronesis 1978. R. Hursthouse, 'A False Doctrine of the Mean', Ar.Soc.Proc. 1980/1. J. D. Wallace, 'Excellences and Merit', PR 1974. M. F. Burnyeat, 'Aristotle on Learning to be Good', in Rorty. R. Sorabji, 'Aristotle on the Role of Intellect in Virtue', in Rorty. J. H. McDowell, 'Virtue and Reason', Monist 1979. See also: Eudaimonia; Practical Wisdom; Responsibility.

LIST OF BOOKS This list is meant only to facilitate reference, and does not aim at completeness. Ackrill, J. L. (i) Aristotle's Categories and De Interpretation, trans, with notes, Oxford, 1963. (2) Aristotle's Ethics, London, 1973. (3) Aristotle the Philosopher, Oxford, 1981. Allan, D.J. The Philosophy of Aristotle, 2nd edn., Oxford, 1970. Annas,J. Aristotle's Metaphysics M and N, trans, with notes, Oxford, 1976. Anscombe, G. E. M. and Geach, P. Three Philosophers, Oxford, 1961. Anton, J. P. and Kustas, G. L., eds. Essays in Ancient Greek Philosophy, New York, 1971. Aubenque, P. Etudessur laMetaphysiqued'Aristote, Paris, 1979. Austin, J. L. Philosophical Papers, Oxford, 1961. Autourd'Aristote (Recueil d'Etudes offert a Mgr. A. Mansion), Louvain, 1955. Balme, D. M. Aristotle'sDePartibusAnimalium I and DeGenerationeAnimalium I, trans, with notes, Oxford, 1972. Bambrough, R., ed. Nen> Essays on Plato and Aristotle, London, 1965. Barnes,J. (i) Aristotle's Posterior Analytics, trans, with notes, Oxford, 1975. — (2) Aristotle, Oxford, 1982. Beare,J. I. Greek Theories of Elementary Cognition, Oxford, 1906. Berti, E. Aristotle on Science: The Posterior Analytics, Padua, 1981. Bodeiis, R. Le Philosophe et la Cite, Paris, 1982. Bogen, J. and McGuire,J. E., eds. Horn Things Are: Studies in Predication and the History oj'Philosophy and Science, Dordrecht, 1985. Boylan, M. Method and Practice in Aristotle's Biology, Washington DC, 1983. Brentano, F. The True and the Evident, London, 1966. Brunschwig, J., ed. Aristote: TopiquesI—IV, Paris, 1967. Callaghan, J. F. Four Views oj Time in Ancient Philosophy, Cambridge, Mass., 1948. Charles, D. Aristotle's Philosophy of Action, London, 1984. Charlton, W. Aristotle's Physics 1and II', trans, with notes, Oxford, 1970. Cherniss, H. Y. Aristotle's Criticism of Plato and the Academy, Baltimore, 1944. Clark, S. R. L. Aristotle's Man, Oxford, 1975. Cooper, J. M. Reason and Human Good in Aristotle, Cambridge, Mass, and London, 1975. Corcoran,J., ed. Ancient Logic and its Modern Interpretations, Dordrecht, 1974. Dahl, N. O. Practical Reason, Aristotle, and Weakness of the Will, Minneapolis, 1984-

578

List of Books

Davidson, D. Essays on Actions and Events, Oxford, 1980. During, I., ed. Naturphilosophie beiAristoteles und Theophrast, Heidelberg, 1969. Edel, A. Aristotle and his Philosophy, Chapel Hill, 1982. Edwards, P., ed. The Encyclopaedia of Philosophy, London, 1967. Engberg-Pedersen, T. Aristotle's Theory of Moral Insight, Oxford, 1983. Evans,J. D. G. Aristotle's Concept of Dialectic, Cambridge, 1977. Evans, G. and McDowell, J., eds. Truth and Meaning, Oxford, 1976. Feinberg,}., ed. Moral Concepts, Oxford, 1969. Fondation Hardt, Entretiens XI, La 'Politique'd'Aristote, Geneva, 1965. Fortenbaugh, W. W. Aristotle on Emotion, London, 1975. Gillispie, C. C., ed. Dictionary oj'Scientific Biography, vol. I, New York, 1970. Gosling, J. C. B. and Taylor, C. C. W. The Greeks on Pleasure, Oxford, 1982. Gotthelf, A., ed. Aristotle on Nature and Living Things, Pittsburgh and Bristol, 1985. and Lennox, J., eds. Philosophical Issues in Aristotle's Biology, Cambridge, 1987. Grandy, R. and Warner, R., eds. Philosophical Grounds of Rationality: Intentions, Categories, andEnds, Oxford, 1985. Grant, A. The Ethics of Aristotle illustrated with Essays and Notes, 4th edn., London, 1885. Greenwood, L. H. G. Aristotle'sNicomacheanEthics VI, Cambridge, 1909. Guthrie, W. K. C. (i) Aristotle: On the Heavens, London, 1939. (2) A History of Greek Philosophy, vol. VI (Aristotle), Cambridge, 1981. Hamburger, M. Morals and Law: the Growth of Aristotle's Legal Theory, New Haven, 1951. Hamlyn, D. W. Aristotle'sDeAnima IIand HI, Oxford, 1968. Hardie, W. F. R. Aristotle's Ethical Theory, 2nd (enlarged) edn., Oxford, 1980. Hartman, E. Substance, Body and Soul, Princeton, 1977. Hintikka,J. Time and Necessity, Oxford, 1973. House, H. Aristotle's Poetics, London, 1956. Hussey, E. Aristotle's Physics IIIandIV, trans, with notes, Oxford, 1983. Irwin, T. Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics, trans, with notes, Indianapolis, 1985. Kahn, C. H. The Verb 'Be'in Ancient Greek, Dordrecht, 1973. Kapp, E. Greek Foundations oj Traditional Logic, New York, 1942. Kenny, A. (i) Action, Emotion and Will, London, 1963. (2) The Aristotelian Ethics, Oxford, 1978. (3) Aristotle's Theory of the Will, London, 1979. Kirwan, C. A. Aristotle's Metaphysics, Books F, A, E, trans, with notes, Oxford, 1971. Kneale, W. and Kneale, M. The Development of Logic, Oxford, 1962. Lear,J. Aristotle and Logical Theory, Cambridge, 1980. Lee, E. N., Mourelatos, A. P. D., and Rorty, R. M., eds. Exegesis and Argument, Assen, 1973.

List of Books

579

Leyden, W. von, Aristotle on Equality and Justice, London, 1985. Lloyd, G. E. R. Aristotle: The Growth and Structure of his Thought, Cambridge, 1968. and Owen, G. E. L., eds. Aristotle on Mind and the Senses, Cambridge, 1978. Lukasiewicz, J. Aristotle's Syllogistic, 2nd (enlarged) edn., Oxford, 1957. McMullin, E., ed. The Concept of Matter in Greek and Medieval Philosophy, Notre . Dame, 1963. Mansion, S. Le Jugement d'Existence chez Aristote, 2nd edn., Louvain, 1976. Milo, R. D. Aristotle on Practical Knowledge and Weakness of Will, The Hague, 1966. Moravcsik, J. M. E., ed. Aristotle, New York, 1967. Mulgan, R. G. Aristotle's Political Theory, Oxford, 1977. Nussbaum, M. C. Aristotle'sDeMotu Animalium, Princeton, 1978. O'Meara, D.J., ed. Studies in Aristotle, Washington, DC, 1981. Owen, G. E. L., ed. Aristotle on Dialectic, Oxford, 1968. Owens, J. (i) The Doctrine of Being in the Aristotelian Metaphysics, 2nd edn., Toronto, 1963. — (2) Aristotle, collected papers ed. J. R. Catan, Albany, 1981. Patzig, G. Aristotle's Theory of the Syllogism, trans. J. Barnes, Dordrecht, 1968. Peck, A. L. (i) Aristotle: Parts of Animals, London, 1937. (2) Aristotle: Generation of Animals, London, 1953. Pitcher, G. and Wood, O. P., eds. Ryle, New York, 1970. Robins, R. H. Short History of'Linguistics, London, 1967. Robinson, R. Aristotle's Politics IIIandIV, trans, with notes, Oxford, 1962. Rorty, A. O., ed. Essays on Aristotle's Ethics, Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1980. Ross, W. D. (i) Aristotle's Metaphysics, 2 vols., Oxford, 1924. (2) Aristotle's Physics, Oxford, 1936. — (3) Aristotle's Prior and Posterior Analytics, Oxford, 1049. (4) Aristotle, 5th (revised) edn., London, 1953. (5) Aristotle's Parva Naturalia, Oxford, 1955. (6) Aristotle's De Anima, Oxford, 1961. (7) The Works of Aristotle, vol. XII, Select Fragments, Oxford, 1952. Russell, D. A. Criticism in Antiquity, London, 1981. and Winterbottom, M., eds. Ancient Literary Criticism, Oxford, 1972. Schofield, M. and Nussbaum, M., eds. Language and Logos, Cambridge, 1982. Sinclair, T. A. and Saunders, T.J. Aristotle: the Politics, Penguin Classics, Harmondsworth, 1981. Sorabji, R. (i) Aristotle on Memory, London, 1972. (2) Necessity, Cause, and Blame, London, 1980. (3) Time, Creation and the Continuum, London, 1983. Vlastos, G. Platonic Studies, Princeton, 1973. Walsh, J.J. and Shapiro, H. H., eds. Aristotle's Ethics: Issues and Interpretations, Belmont, 1967.

580

List of Books

Waterlow, S. (i) Nature, Change, and Agency in Aristotle's Physics, Oxford, 1982. (2) Passage and Possibility, Oxford, 1982. Wilkes, K. V. Physicalism, London, 1978. Williams, C.J. F. Aristotle's De Generatione et Corruptione, trans, with notes, Oxford, 1982. Woods, M. J. Aristotle's Eudemian Ethics I, II, and VIII, trans, with notes, Oxford, 1982.