Aristotle · a new plain-English translation from the original language
1| In all friendships between dissimilar parties, it is proportion that equalizes and preserves the friendship, as has been said; for instance in the political community, the shoemaker gets a return in proportion to his worth for his shoes, and so does the weaver, and so do the rest. [1164a] Here, then, a common measure has been provided, namely currency, and everything is referred to this and measured by it; but in erotic friendship sometimes the lover complains that his excessive love is not requited with love in return—though, as it may happen, he has nothing lovable about him—while often the beloved complains that the one who earlier promised everything now fulfills nothing. Such things happen whenever the one loves the beloved for the sake of pleasure, and the other loves the lover for the sake of usefulness, and these do not both belong to each. For since the friendship rests on these things, a dissolution occurs whenever they do not get that for the sake of which they were being friends: for they were not cherishing each other but the things that belonged to them, which are not lasting; hence such are the friendships too. But the friendship of characters, being in its own right, endures, as has been said. People differ when what comes about for them is other than what they desire; for it is like getting nothing at all, when one does not attain what one aims at—just as it happened with the man who made a promise to the lyre-player, and said that the better he sang, the more he would give him; but when in the morning the man demanded on his promises, he said he had given pleasure for pleasure. Now if each of them had wanted this, it would have been sufficient; but if one wanted delight and the other gain, and one has it and the other does not, the terms of the partnership would not be well fulfilled: for a person attends to whatever he happens to be in need of, and it is for the sake of that that he will give what he gives. But whose task is it to fix the worth—the one who gives first, or the one who takes first? For the one who gives first seems to entrust it to the other. This is what they say Protagoras used to do:
2| for whenever he taught anything at all, he would tell the pupil to assess how much he thought the knowledge was worth, and he took that much. In such matters some are satisfied with the principle "let a man have his wage." Those who collect the payment beforehand, however, and then carry out none of what they claimed, on account of promises pitched too high, rightly become targets of complaint; for they do not deliver on what they agreed to. This the sophists are perhaps compelled to do because no one would give money for what they know. Such men, then, having taken the wage for what they did not do, are reasonably subject to complaints. But in cases where no agreement is made about the service, those who give of themselves for the other's own sake are, as has been said, not liable to complaint (for such is the friendship based on virtue), [1164b] and the return should be made in accordance with the intention (for this belongs to the friend and to virtue): and this seems to hold also for those who share in philosophy together; for worth is not measured against money, and no honor could be an equal counterweight, but perhaps it is enough, as with the gods and with parents, to give what is possible. But if the giving is not of this kind but is for something in return, then above all, perhaps, the repayment ought to come about in a way that seems to both to be in proportion to worth; but if this does not happen, it would seem not only necessary but also just that the one who received first should fix the amount: for as much as he was benefited, or as much as he would have chosen in exchange for the pleasure, so much he will have received in return as the worth from the other. And indeed this is how it appears to happen in cases of buying and selling too, and in some places there are laws that there be no lawsuits over voluntary contracts, on the ground that one who trusted someone ought to settle the matter as he did with him whom he trusted.
3| ...just as he shared in it. For the one to whom the matter was entrusted, he thinks, has a juster claim to fix the assessment than the one who entrusted it. For in most cases those who have a thing and those who want to get it do not value it equally: what is one's own, and what one gives to others, appears to be worth a great deal; yet the return comes to as much as the recipients assess it at. Perhaps, though, one should value a thing not at what it appears worth to the one who has it, but at what he valued it at before he had it. Such questions as the following also raise difficulty: for example, whether one should assign everything to one's father and obey him, or whether, when sick, one should trust the doctor instead, and whether one should elect the man skilled in war as general; and likewise whether one should do a service for a friend rather than for a good man, and whether one should repay a benefactor's favor rather than give to a companion, if both cannot be done. Is it not, then, hard to determine all such matters precisely? For they admit many differences of every kind, in magnitude and smallness and in what is fine and what is necessary. But that not everything is to be rendered to the same person is not unclear: for the most part one should repay benefits received rather than do favors for companions, just as one should repay a debt to the one to whom one owes it rather than give the money to a companion. Yet perhaps not even this holds always: for instance, in the case of a man ransomed from bandits — should he ransom in return the one who ransomed him, whoever that may be, or, if that man has not himself been captured but demands repayment, should he repay him, [1165a] or should he ransom his father instead? For it would seem that one should ransom one's father even before oneself. As has been said, then, in general the debt should be repaid; but if the gift exceeds it in fineness or necessity, one should incline toward these. For sometimes it is not even a fair equivalent to repay the original service, when the one who did the good deed did so knowing the recipient to be a good man, while the return is made to someone he believes to be bad. For indeed one need not always lend in return to the one who lent to oneself: for the one lent expecting to get it back, to a decent man, while the other has no hope of getting it back from a worthless one.
4| If, then, this is in truth how things stand, the claims are not equal; and if things are not really so but people think they are, they would not seem to be acting strangely. As has often been said, accounts concerning feelings and actions have exactly as much precision as the matters they are about. That the same things should not be rendered to everyone, nor everything to one's father — just as not everything is sacrificed to Zeus — is not unclear; and since different things are owed to parents, to brothers, to companions, and to benefactors, to each one should assign what is proper and fitting to them. And this is in fact what people appear to do: they invite their relatives to weddings, since these share in the family stock and in the actions concerned with it; and for the same reason people think relatives especially ought to attend funerals. It would seem that one ought above all to supply sustenance to one's parents, as being in their debt, and because it is finer to supply those responsible for one's existence with these things than to supply oneself; and one owes honor to parents as to gods, though not every kind of honor — for the same honor is not due to father and mother, nor again the honor due to a wise man or to a general, but the honor proper to a father, and likewise the honor proper to a mother. And to everyone older, one owes honor in proportion to age, by rising up before them, by giving them the place at table, and by such things; while toward companions and brothers, in turn, one owes frankness of speech and community of all things. And to relatives, to fellow tribesmen, to fellow citizens, and to all the rest, one must always try to render what is proper, and to compare what belongs to each in respect of closeness of kinship, virtue, or usefulness. Now the comparison is easier among those of the same kind, but more laborious among those that differ.
5| Still, one must not on that account give up, but must draw the distinctions as best one can. There is also a difficulty about whether or not one should dissolve friendships [1165b] with those who do not remain the same. Or is it that, in the case of those who were friends for usefulness or for pleasure, when they no longer have these qualities, there is nothing strange in dissolving the friendship? For it was on account of those qualities that they were friends; and once these have failed, it is reasonable no longer to love them. But one might make a complaint, if a person, while loving someone for usefulness or pleasure, pretended to love him for his character. For, as we said at the start, most differences arise between friends when they are not friends in the way they suppose. So when a man deceives himself and supposes he is loved for his character, though the other does nothing of the kind, he has only himself to blame; but when he is deceived by the other's pretense, it is just to blame the one who deceived him — and more than those who counterfeit currency, insofar as the wrongdoing concerns something more valuable. But if one accepted a man as good, and he becomes bad and is seen to be so, should one still love him? Or is it impossible, if indeed not everything is lovable but only the good? For what is bad is neither lovable, nor ought it to be loved: one must not be a lover of bad men, nor become like a base man; and it has been said that like is dear to like. Should the friendship, then, be dissolved at once? Or not with everyone, but only with those incurable in their badness? For those capable of correction, one should give more help toward their character than toward their property, inasmuch as this is better and more proper to friendship. And a man who dissolves such a friendship would seem to be doing nothing strange; for he was not a friend to a man of that sort, and so, since the man has changed and he is unable to save him, he withdraws. But if one party remains the same while the other becomes more decent and comes to differ from him greatly in virtue, should he still treat him as a friend? Or is this not possible?
6| This becomes especially clear when the divergence is great, as in friendships formed in childhood: for if one party remains a child in understanding while the other becomes a man of the finest sort, how could they still be friends, when they are pleased by neither the same things nor feel joy and pain over the same things? For they will not even have these feelings toward one another, and without them it was not possible to be friends; for it is not possible to share a life together. But these matters have been discussed. Should one, then, behave toward him in no way different than if he had never become a friend at all? Or must one keep in mind the intimacy that once existed, and, just as we think we ought to do favors for friends rather than for strangers, so too something should be granted to former friends on account of the friendship that once was, when the dissolution has not come about through an extreme of badness. [1166a] The marks of friendship toward one's neighbors, by which friendships are defined, appear to have come from a man's relation to himself. For people define a friend as one who wishes and does what is good, or what seems good, for the other's sake, or as one who wishes his friend to exist and live for the friend's own sake — which is what mothers feel toward their children, and what friends who have quarreled still feel. Others define a friend as one who lives together with him and chooses the same things, or as one who shares his friend's pain and joy; and this too holds especially true of mothers. And it is by some one of these marks that people define friendship. Now each of these marks belongs, in relation to himself, to the decent man (and to the rest of people, insofar as they suppose themselves to be of that sort; for, as has been said, virtue and the good man seem to be the measure of each thing): for such a man is of one mind with himself, and desires the same things with his whole soul; and he wishes
7| Such a person, then, does what is good and what appears so for his own sake — he does the good for the sake of that in him which is good — and does it for his own sake, since it is for the sake of the thinking part, which each person seems to be. Such a person also wishes himself to live and to be preserved, and above all that part with which he thinks. For being is good to the good person, and each wishes the good things for himself; but no one, on becoming someone else, chooses to have everything that the person he has become would have (for even now the god has the good), but only while remaining what he actually is; and each person would seem to be, or to be most of all, the thinking part. Such a person also wishes to spend his time with himself, for he does so with pleasure: the memories of what he has done are delightful, and his hopes for the future are good, and hopes of this kind are pleasant. He is also well supplied with subjects for contemplation for his intellect. He shares pain and shares pleasure with himself most of all, for the same thing is always painful or pleasant to him, and not one thing at one time and another at another — he is, so to speak, free of regret. Given that all these features belong to the decent man in his relation to himself, and that he treats his friend exactly as he treats himself (a friend being, after all, a second self), friendship can be regarded as one facet of this same relationship, and whoever possesses these traits counts as a friend. Whether there is friendship toward oneself or not, let that be set aside for now; it would seem that there is friendship in this respect, in which there are two or more parties, given what has been said, [1166b] and in that the excess of friendship resembles the relation to oneself. But what has been said appears to hold also for the many, even though they are base. Is it, then, insofar as they are pleased with themselves and suppose themselves to be decent, that they share in these things?
8| For among the utterly base and impious, none of this holds — indeed it does not even appear to. And it holds scarcely even for the base in general: for they are at odds with themselves, and they desire one set of things while wishing another, as the incontinent do; for they choose, instead of the things that seem good to themselves, pleasant things that are harmful. Others again, through cowardice and idleness, hold back from doing what they think is best for themselves. And those who have done many terrible things and are hated because of their wickedness flee from life and put themselves to death. The wicked seek out others with whom to spend their days, but flee from themselves; for when they are by themselves they remember many disagreeable things and expect more of the same, but when they are with others they forget. Having nothing lovable in themselves, they feel nothing friendly toward themselves. Such people do not, then, rejoice together with themselves or share pain with themselves; for their soul is in civil war, and one part, because of its wickedness, is pained at abstaining from certain things, while another part is pleased, and one part pulls this way and the other that, as if tearing the person apart. And if it is not possible to feel pain and pleasure at once, still shortly afterward such a person is pained that he took pleasure, and would wish that these things had not become pleasant to him; for the base are full of regret. The base person, then, plainly is not even disposed in a friendly way toward himself, because he has nothing lovable in him. If, then, being in such a state is utterly wretched, wickedness must be avoided with all one's effort, and one must try to be decent; for in this way one would both be disposed in a friendly way toward oneself and become a friend to another. Goodwill resembles something friendly, but it is not friendship; for goodwill arises even toward people one does not know, and unnoticed by them, but friendship does not. This too has been said before. But goodwill is not affection either. For it has no intensity and no desire, and these accompany affection; and affection comes with familiarity, whereas
9| goodwill can arise even on the spur of the moment, as happens for instance in the case of contestants: [1167a] people become well disposed toward them and share their wishes, but would not act together with them in anything; for, as we said, they become well disposed on the spur of the moment and feel a merely superficial affection. Goodwill seems, then, to be a starting point of friendship, just as the pleasure that comes through sight is a starting point of erotic love; for no one loves erotically without first having been pleased by the appearance, yet someone who delights in the appearance does not for that reason love, but only when he also longs for the person when absent and desires his presence. In the same way, people cannot be friends without having first become well disposed, yet the well disposed are not for that reason any more friends; for they wish only good things to those toward whom they are well disposed, but would not act together with them in anything, nor would they be troubled on their behalf. Hence, by an extension of the term, one might call goodwill an inactive friendship, which, when it lasts over time and arrives at familiarity, becomes friendship — not the friendship based on usefulness nor that based on pleasure, for goodwill does not arise on the basis of those either. For someone who has been treated well returns goodwill in return for what he has received, thereby doing what is just; but a man who wants someone else to do well only because he hopes to gain some advantage through him is not really showing goodwill toward that person at all — he is showing it toward himself, in the same way that he is no true friend if his attentions are aimed at some use he can make of the other. In general, goodwill arises because of virtue and a kind of decency, when someone appears fine or courageous or something of this sort to another, as we said in the case of contestants. Concord too appears to be something friendly. This is why it is not agreement in opinion; for that could hold even among people who do not know one another. Nor do people say that those who are of one mind about just anything are in concord,
10| for instance about the heavenly bodies (for being of one mind about these is not a matter of friendship), but they say cities are in concord when they are of one mind about their common interests, and choose the same things and do what has been decided in common. It is about practical matters, then, that people are in concord, and among these, about matters of importance and things that can hold for both parties or for all, as when cities are in concord, for example when it is resolved by all that offices should be elective, or that they should ally with the Spartans, or that Pittacus should rule, at a time when he himself was also willing. But when each of the two parties wants the position for himself, as with the brothers in the Phoenician Women, they fall into civil strife; for being in concord is not a matter of each thinking the same thought, whatever it may be, but of thinking it about the same object, as when both the people [1167b] and the respectable citizens want the best to rule; for in this way what all aim at comes about for everyone. Concord, then, appears to be political friendship, exactly as it is said to be, for it concerns common interests and matters bearing on life. Concord of this kind exists among decent people; for these are in concord both with themselves and with one another, being, so to speak, on the same footing (for the wishes of such people remain fixed and do not shift back and forth like the Euripus), and they wish for what is just and advantageous, and aim at these things in common as well. But the base cannot be in concord except to a small degree, just as they can be friends only to a small degree, since they aim at more than their share where profit is concerned, but fall short in labors and public services; and each, wanting this for himself, scrutinizes his neighbor and holds him back, since if people do not watch out, the common good is destroyed. The result, then, is that they fall into civil strife, each
11| forcing themselves to it, but not willing to do what is just on their own. Benefactors are held to feel more affection for those they have benefited than the beneficiaries do for their benefactors, and this is inquired into as if it were contrary to reason. To most people it appears that this is because the one party owes and the other is owed: just as in the case of loans, debtors want the people they owe not to exist, while lenders actually take care for the safety of their debtors, so too, it is thought, those who have done a benefit want the people they benefited to exist, on the expectation of getting back their thanks, while the beneficiaries have no such concern to repay. Epicharmus would perhaps say that the people who say this are judging from a low point of view, but it does seem a natural human trait: for most people are forgetful, and are more eager to be well treated than to treat others well. But the cause would seem to be more a matter of nature, and the case of lenders is not even similar: for there is no affection toward the debtors, but rather a wish for their preservation for the sake of getting the money back; whereas those who have done good feel affection and love for those they have benefited even if they are of no use to them and never will be in the future. This is what happens also with craftsmen: every one loves his own work more than he would be loved by that work, were it to become ensouled. This happens perhaps most of all with poets: [1168a] they love their own poems excessively, cherishing them as if they were children. Something like this is what happens with benefactors too: the one who has been well treated is their work, and so they feel affection for this more than the work feels for its maker. The cause of this is that existence is choiceworthy and lovable to all, and we exist by way of activity (for we exist by living and acting), and the one who has made something exists, in a way, by activity in that work; he cherishes the work, therefore, because he cherishes his own existence too. And this is natural: for what a thing is in potentiality, its work reveals in actuality. And at the same time
12| for the benefactor there is something fine in his own action, so that he takes pleasure in the person in whom this fineness lies, while for the one who has been treated well there is nothing fine in the one who acted, but at most something advantageous, and this is less pleasant and less lovable. Now the activity of what is present is pleasant, and of what is future, the hope; of what has come to be, the memory; and the pleasantest of these is what accords with activity, and this is likewise the most lovable. For the one who has made something, then, the work remains (for the fine thing is long-lasting), but for the one who was treated well, the usefulness has passed away. And memory of fine things is pleasant, but of merely useful things is not very pleasant, or less so; while expectation seems to work the other way around. Loving seems to resemble a kind of making, being loved a kind of being acted upon; and to those who are superior in the relevant action there follows loving and the things that go with friendship. Further, everyone cherishes more the things that have come about through labor, as for instance people who have earned money themselves love it more than those who have inherited it: being treated well seems to involve no labor, while doing well by someone is laborious. This is also why mothers are more devoted to their children than fathers are: giving birth involves more labor, and mothers know more surely that the children are their own. This would seem to belong to benefactors as well. There is also a puzzle about whether one ought to love oneself most of all, or someone else. People criticize those who are most devoted to themselves, and call them self-lovers as a term of reproach, and it is held that the base person does everything for his own sake, and the worse he is the more so — indeed people accuse him of never acting from himself, of anything — while the decent person acts for the sake of the fine, and the better he is the more he acts for the sake of the fine, and for the sake of a friend,
13| setting his own interest aside. Yet actions are at odds with these accounts, and not without reason. [1168b] For people say that one ought to love most the one who is most a friend, and that the one who is most a friend is the one who wishes good things to another for that other's own sake, even if no one will know of it; and these features belong most of all to a person in relation to himself, as do all the rest of the traits by which a friend is defined; for it has been said that all the marks of friendship extend from oneself to others as well. And all the proverbs agree in this, such as 'one soul,' 'friends' goods are common,' 'friendship is equality,' and 'the knee is closer than the shin': for all these would apply most of all to a person's relation to himself, since he is a friend to himself most of all; and so one ought to love oneself most of all. It is reasonable, then, that there is a puzzle about which of the two views one ought to follow, since both carry conviction. Perhaps, then, one must divide such accounts and distinguish to what extent and in what way each is true. If we grasp in what sense each side speaks of self-love, this might become clear. Now those who make it a reproach call self-lovers the people who assign to themselves the greater share of money, honors, and bodily pleasures; for these are what most people desire and are earnest about, on the assumption that they are the best things, and this is why they are objects of fierce competition. Those, then, who are grasping about these things are gratifying their appetites and, in general, their emotions and the irrational part of the soul; and most people are of this sort; hence the term has come to be applied from the fact that the majority are base in this way; it is justly, then, that self-lovers of this kind are reproached. That most people are accustomed to call self-lovers those who assign such things to themselves is not unclear;
14| for if someone were always eager, more than anyone, to do just actions himself, or temperate ones, or any other of the actions in accordance with the virtues, and in general were always securing for himself what is fine, no one would call this person a self-lover, nor would anyone blame him. Yet such a person would seem to be a self-lover more than the other kind: he assigns to himself the finest things and the greatest goods, and he gratifies the most authoritative part of himself, and obeys this in everything; just as a city, or any other composite system, is held to be most of all its most authoritative part, so too is a human being; and so the one who loves this part and gratifies it is a self-lover most of all. And a person is called continent or incontinent according to whether his intellect masters him or not, on the assumption that each person is this, his intellect; [1169a] and people are held to have done things themselves, and voluntarily, most of all when they have done them in accordance with reason. That each of us is this, or is this most of all, is not unclear, and that the decent person cherishes this part most of all. Hence he would be a self-lover most of all, though of a different kind from the one that is reproached, differing from it as much as living in accordance with reason differs from living in accordance with emotion, and as much as desiring what is fine differs from desiring what merely seems advantageous. Now those who are exceptionally earnest about fine actions are welcomed and praised by everyone; and if everyone competed for what is fine and strained to do the finest actions, both the common good would be fully served and each individual would have the greatest of goods, given that virtue is a thing of this sort. So the good person must be a self-lover (for by doing fine actions he will benefit himself and help others as well), but the base person must not be, for he will harm both himself and his neighbors, following as he does
15| base emotions. In the corrupt man, then, duty and deed pull apart; the decent man, by contrast, performs exactly what duty requires: every mind picks out the best course for itself, and the decent man submits to that guidance. Also true of the excellent man is this: he undertakes much on behalf of his friends and of his homeland, and will lay down his life for them if the need arises; for he will give up money and honors and, in general, the goods that people fight over, securing for himself what is fine; he would choose intense pleasure for a short time over mild pleasure for a long time, and to live finely for one year rather than in an ordinary way for many years, and to do one fine and great action rather than many small ones. This is perhaps what happens to those who die for others: they choose something great and fine for themselves. And such people would give up money on condition that their friends get more of it: for the friend gets the money, while the man himself gets what is fine; he is assigning to himself, then, the greater good. And the same holds concerning honors and offices: he will give up all of these to his friend, since this is fine and praiseworthy for him. It is reasonable, then, that he is held to be good, since he chooses what is fine in preference to everything else. It is also possible to give up actions themselves to a friend, and it may be finer to become the cause of a friend's acting than to act oneself. In all the things that are praised, then, the good person is seen assigning to himself the greater share of what is fine. [1169b] In this sense, then, one ought to be a self-lover, as has been said; but in the sense in which most people are, one ought not to be. There is also a dispute about the happy person, whether he will need friends or not. For some say that the blessed and self-sufficient have no need of friends
16| and self-sufficient. For the good things already belong to them; being self-sufficient, then, they need nothing further, whereas a friend, being another self, supplies what one is unable to provide for oneself. Hence the saying: when fortune gives good things abundantly, what need is there for friends? But it seems odd, in assigning all the good things to the happy person, not to grant him friends, which seem to be the greatest of external goods. And if it belongs more to a friend to do well by others than to be treated well, and doing good belongs to the good person and to virtue, and it is finer to do well by friends than by strangers, then the excellent person will need people to benefit. Hence it is also asked whether one needs friends more in good fortune or in misfortune, on the ground that the unfortunate person needs people who will benefit him, while the fortunate person needs people he can benefit. Perhaps it is also odd to make the blessed person a solitary; for no one would choose to have all good things by himself alone, since man is a political being, naturally disposed to live together with others. This holds true of the happy person as well, for he has the things that are good by nature, and it is clear that it is better to spend one's days with friends and decent people than with strangers and whoever happens along. The happy person, then, needs friends. What, then, do those who spoke first mean, and in what way are they right? Is it that most people take useful people to be friends? Of such friends the blessed person will need none, since the good things already belong to him; nor, again, will he need friends who are pleasant, or only a little (for since his life is already pleasant, it has no need of imported pleasure); and since he needs none of these kinds of friends, he seems not to need friends at all. But this is perhaps not true. For it was said at the beginning that happiness is a kind of activity, and activity is clearly
17| something that comes to be, and does not belong to one already, as a piece of property does. But if being happy consists in living and being active, and the activity of the good person is excellent and pleasant in itself, as was said at the beginning, and what is one's own is among the pleasant things, while we are more able to observe our neighbors than ourselves, and their actions more than our own — then the actions of excellent people who are friends are pleasant to good people [1170a] (for both possess what is pleasant by nature); the blessed person, then, will need friends of this kind, if indeed he chooses to observe actions that are decent and his own, and such are the actions of a good person who is a friend. People also think the happy person ought to live pleasantly. Now life is hard for one who is solitary, since it is not easy to be continuously active by oneself, but it is easier together with others and in relation to others. The activity will therefore be more continuous when it is pleasant in itself, which is what must hold true of the blessed person; for the excellent person, insofar as he is excellent, delights in actions in accordance with virtue and is disgusted by those that proceed from vice, just as a musician takes pleasure in fine melodies and is pained by bad ones. A kind of training in virtue might also come about from living together with good people, as Theognis too says. But if one examines the matter more from the standpoint of nature, the excellent friend seems to be choiceworthy by nature for the excellent person. For it has been said that what is good by nature is good and pleasant in itself for the excellent person. Now life is defined, in the case of animals, by the capacity for perception, and in the case of human beings, by perception or thought; and a capacity is referred back to its actuality, and what is decisive lies in the actuality. Living, then, seems properly to consist in perceiving or thinking. And living is among the things that are
18| good and pleasant in their own right; for it is determinate, and what is determinate belongs to the nature of the good. And what is good by nature is also good for the decent person; that is why life seems to be pleasant to everyone. But one should not take into account a depraved and corrupted life, nor one spent in pains, for such a life is indeterminate, just as the things that belong to it are. This will become clearer in the discussion of pain that follows. But if living itself is good and pleasant (and this seems to be shown by the fact that everyone desires it, and especially decent and blessed people, since for them life is most choiceworthy, and their existence is the most blessed of all), and one who sees perceives that he sees, and one who hears that he hears, and one who walks that he walks, and likewise in all other cases there is something in us that perceives that we are active, so that if we perceive, we perceive that we perceive, and if we think, we perceive that we think, and to perceive that we perceive or think is to perceive that we exist (for existing, we found, was perceiving or thinking), [1170b] and perceiving that one is alive is among the things pleasant in themselves (for life is good by nature, and to perceive a good present in oneself is pleasant), and life is choiceworthy, and especially so for good people, because for them existing is good and pleasant (since in being jointly aware of what is good in itself they take pleasure), and as the excellent person is disposed toward himself, so he is also disposed toward his friend (for a friend is another self) — just as, then, each person's own existence is choiceworthy for him, so too, or nearly so, is his friend's existence. And existing was found to be choiceworthy because of perceiving oneself to be good, and this sort of
19| perception is pleasant in itself. One must therefore also be jointly aware that one's friend exists, and this would come about through living together and sharing in conversation and thought; for that is what living together would seem to mean in the case of human beings, and not, as with grazing animals, feeding in the same place. If, then, existing is choiceworthy in itself for the blessed person, being good by nature and pleasant, and his friend's existence is nearly the same, then the friend too would be among the things choiceworthy. And whatever is choiceworthy for him must belong to him, or in this respect he will be deficient. The person who is to be happy will therefore need excellent friends. Should one, then, make as many friends as possible, or, just as with hospitality it seems fitting to say that one should be neither a host to many nor inhospitable, will it likewise suit friendship neither to be friendless nor, again, to have an excessive multitude of friends? For friends of utility, what has been said would seem entirely fitting; for rendering service in return to many is burdensome, and a lifetime is not sufficient to do just that. Friends beyond the number sufficient for one's own life, then, are superfluous and an obstacle to living well, so there is no need of them. And a few friends for pleasure are enough too, just as a little seasoning is enough in food. But as for excellent friends, should one have as many as possible in number, or is there some measure to the quantity of friends too, as there is for a city? For a city could not come to be from ten people, nor is it still a city when made up of a hundred thousand. The right quantity is perhaps not some single number, but any number falling between certain fixed limits.
20| [1171a] So too there is a determinate multitude of friends, and perhaps the largest number is as many as one could live together with (for this seemed to be most characteristic of friendship); and that it is not possible to live together with many people and distribute oneself among them is not unclear. Further, those friends must also be friends with one another, if they are all going to spend their days together, and this is hard to achieve among a large number. It also becomes hard to share genuinely in the joys and sorrows of many people, for it is likely that one will find oneself rejoicing with one person and grieving with another at the same time. Perhaps, then, it is well not to seek to have as many friends as possible, but only as many as are sufficient for living together; for it would not seem possible to be a close friend to many people either. That is why one cannot be in love with several people either; for erotic love wants to be a kind of excess of friendship, and that is directed toward one person, and so too intense friendship is directed toward few. This seems to be borne out by the facts as well, for many people do not become friends according to comradely friendship, and the friendships celebrated in song are said to be between two. Those who have many friends and get on intimate terms with everyone seem to be friends with no one, except in the political sense — the sort of people also called ingratiating. In the political sense, then, it is possible to be a friend to many people without being ingratiating, but truly decent; but friendship for the sake of virtue and for the sake of the persons themselves is not possible toward many, and one should be content to find even a few such friends. But does one need friends more in good fortune or in misfortune? For they are sought in both: those who are unfortunate need assistance, while those who are fortunate need people to live with and people they can benefit, since they want to do good. Friendship is, then, more necessary
21| in misfortunes, and so we need useful friends there, though it is finer in good fortune, and so we also seek out decent friends: for it is more choiceworthy to benefit these and to spend time with them. Indeed, simply having friends near brings pleasure, whether things go well or badly. For those who are grieving are lightened when their friends grieve with them. And so one might be puzzled whether friends take a share of the burden as if it were a weight, or rather not this, but their presence, being pleasant, and the thought that they share the grief, makes the pain less. Whether then it is because of these things or because of something else that people are lightened, let that be set aside: at any rate what has been said does appear to happen. But the presence of friends seems to be something mixed. For the very seeing of one's friends is pleasant, [1171b] especially for someone unfortunate, and it becomes some help against being pained (for a friend is comforting both by sight and by speech, if he is tactful: for he knows one's character and what one takes pleasure and pain in); but to perceive that one's friend is pained at one's own misfortunes is painful: for everyone shrinks from being a cause of pain to his friends. This is why manly natures are careful not to let their friends share their pain, and unless a man is beyond measure insensible to pain, he cannot bear the pain that comes to be in them, and in general does not admit fellow-mourners, because he himself is not given to lamenting; but women, and men like women, delight in those who groan with them, and love them as friends and sympathizers. But it is clear that in all things one must imitate the better sort. And the presence of friends in good fortune both makes one's way of life pleasant and carries the thought that they take pleasure in one's own good things.
22| And so it would seem that one ought to call one's friends eagerly to share good fortune (for it is fine to be a benefactor), but to hold back in calling them to misfortune: for one ought to give them as little share as possible in one's evils, which is the source of the saying, enough that I am unlucky. One should summon them most of all when, with little trouble to themselves, they are going to be of great benefit to the person in question. But conversely, it is fitting perhaps to go unbidden and eagerly to those in misfortune (for it belongs to a friend to do well by another, and most of all to those in need who have not claimed it as their due: for this is finer and more pleasant for both); but toward good fortune to go eagerly in order to help (for there is also need of friends for this), but toward taking part in another's enjoyment to go without urgency: for it is not fine to be eager to receive benefit. Yet perhaps one must be careful of a reputation for unpleasantness in holding oneself back, for this sometimes happens. In any case, the presence of friends appears choiceworthy in all circumstances. Is it, then, just as for lovers seeing the beloved is the most cherished thing, and they choose this perception more than the rest, on the ground that it is by this perception most of all that love exists and comes to be, so also for friends is living together the most choiceworthy thing? For friendship is a partnership, and as a man is disposed toward himself, so also toward his friend; and with regard to himself, the perception that he exists is choiceworthy, and so also with regard to his friend: and the activity of this perception comes to be in living together, [1172a] so that they reasonably desire this. Whatever existence amounts to for each person, or whatever goal makes life worth choosing, that is exactly where each wants to pass his days alongside his friends: this is why some drink together, others dice together, others exercise together and hunt together
23| or philosophize together, each group spending their days together in whatever it is they cherish most in life: for since they wish to live together with their friends, they do these things and share in these, in whatever they suppose themselves to be living together in. And so the friendship of base people turns out corrupt (for they share in base things, being unstable, and they become base by being made alike to each other), while that of decent people is decent, growing along with their association; and they seem also to become better by being active together and correcting one another: for they take an impression from each other of what pleases them, whence the saying, from noble men, noble things. Let this much, then, be said about friendship: and it would follow next to go through the subject of pleasure.