Aristotle · a new plain-English translation from the original language
1| After this it perhaps follows to go through the subject of pleasure. It appears, more than anything else, to be woven into our very nature as a species, which is why the young are trained by being steered through pleasure and pain: and it also seems to be of the greatest importance for virtue of character to take pleasure in what one ought and to hate what one ought. For these things extend through the whole of life, carrying weight and power toward virtue and the happy life: for people choose pleasant things and avoid painful ones; and on such matters it would seem least of all right to pass over them, especially since they admit of much dispute. For some say that the good is pleasure, while others, quite to the contrary, say it is altogether base, some perhaps being persuaded that this is truly how things stand, others thinking it better for our life to declare pleasure to be among the base things, even if it is not: for the many, they say, incline toward it and are enslaved to pleasures, and so one ought to lead them toward the opposite; for in this way they would arrive at the mean. But perhaps this is not well said. For accounts concerning things in the sphere of feelings and actions are less to be trusted than deeds: and so when they are out of tune with what is perceived, they are held in contempt and destroy the truth along with themselves: [1172b] for a man who censures pleasure, if he is ever seen reaching for it, seems by his leaning toward it to imply that it is all of that kind, since drawing distinctions is not a thing the many can do. So true accounts seem to be most useful, not only for knowing, but also for life: for being in harmony with the facts, they are trusted, and so they win over those who understand them to live according to them. Enough, then, of such matters: let us go over what has been said about pleasure. Now Eudoxus thought pleasure was the good, because he
2| saw all things, both rational and irrational, reaching for it, and that in all cases what is choiceworthy is what is decent, and what is most dominant is best: so the fact that all things are carried toward the same thing indicated, he thought, that this is best for all (for each thing finds its own good, just as it finds its own nourishment), and what is good for all, and what all things reach for, is the good. And his accounts were trusted more because of the virtue of his character than for their own sake: for he seemed to be exceptionally temperate; so it did not seem that he said these things as a friend of pleasure, but rather that this is truly how things stand. He thought it no less evident from the contrary case: for pain is in its own right something to be avoided by all, and so likewise its opposite is choiceworthy; and what is most choiceworthy is that which we choose neither because of something else nor for the sake of something else: and pleasure, he said, is admittedly such a thing; for no one asks a man for the sake of what he takes pleasure, on the ground that pleasure is choiceworthy in its own right. And, he said, when added to any of the goods it makes it more choiceworthy, for instance to acting justly and being temperate, and the good is increased by it. Now this argument seems to show that pleasure is one of the goods, and no more so than any other: for everything is more choiceworthy along with some other good than taken alone. It is by an argument of this very kind that Plato too does away with the claim that pleasure is the good: for he says that the pleasant life is more choiceworthy along with practical wisdom than without it, and if the mixture is better, then pleasure is not the good; for the good cannot become more choiceworthy by anything being added to it. And it is clear that nothing else either could be the good, if it becomes more choiceworthy when combined with any of the things good in their own right. What, then, is a thing of this sort, in which we too
3| we share; for such a thing is what is being sought. But those who object that what all things aim at is not good say approximately nothing. [1173a] For what everyone thinks, this we say is so; and the person who does away with this conviction will not himself say anything more convincing. For if it were mindless things that desired these, there would be something in the objection; but if intelligent beings desire them too, how could there be anything in it? Perhaps even in inferior beings there is some natural good stronger than they are in their own right, which reaches for the good proper to it. Nor does the argument about the contrary seem to be well stated either. For they say that if pain is bad, it does not follow that pleasure is good; for bad is opposed to bad, and both are opposed to what is neither—speaking not badly in this, but not stating the truth in the case at hand. For if both were bad, both ought to be avoidable, and of the two states that are neither good nor bad, neither ought to be preferable to the other, or they ought to be alike; yet in practice one is shunned as an evil and the other pursued as a good—which is exactly why they stand as opposites. Nor again, even if pleasure is not among the qualities, does it follow that it is not among the goods; for neither are the activities of virtue qualities, nor is happiness. They say the good is determinate, while pleasure is indeterminate, because it admits of more and less. Now if they judge this from the feeling of pleasure, the same will hold for justice and the other virtues as well, in respect of which they plainly say that people are more and less such-and-such, and act in accordance with the virtues more or less—for people are more just and more courageous, and one can act justly and act temperately more and less. But if they judge from the pleasures themselves, then perhaps they are not stating the real cause, if some pleasures are unmixed and others mixed. And what prevents it being the case, just as health, though determinate, admits of more
4| and less, that pleasure be like this too? For the same balance is not present in everyone, nor even in the same person always one and the same; rather it persists while relaxing up to a point, and differs in more and less. Something of this sort, then, may be true of pleasure as well. Positing the good as complete, while motions and comings-to-be are incomplete, they try to declare pleasure a motion and a coming-to-be. But they do not seem to speak well, nor does pleasure seem to be a motion. For speed and slowness seem proper to every motion, and if not in its own right, as with the motion of the heavens, then in relation to something else; but neither of these belongs to pleasure. For one can come to feel pleasure quickly, just as one can come to feel angry quickly, [1173b] but one cannot be pleased quickly, nor in relation to anything else, whereas one can walk quickly, and grow, and do all such things. So it is possible to change into pleasure quickly and slowly, but it is not possible to be active in accordance with it—I mean, to be pleased—quickly. And how could it be a coming-to-be? For it does not seem that just anything comes to be from just anything, but a thing dissolves back into that from which it comes to be; and that of which pleasure is a coming-to-be, of that pain would be the destruction. Pain, on their account, marks a shortfall from one's natural state, and pleasure its restoration. But these are bodily affections. If, then, pleasure is a replenishment of what is natural, then that in which the replenishment occurs would be the thing that feels pleasure; so it would be the body. But this does not seem to be so; so replenishment is not pleasure either—rather, when a replenishment is occurring one would feel pleasure, and when being cut one would feel pain. This opinion seems to have arisen from the pains and pleasures connected with food; for it is when people have become deficient and have first felt pain that they feel pleasure at the replenishment.
5| But this does not happen with all pleasures; for the pleasures of mathematics are painless, and among those connected with the senses, those through smell, and many things heard and seen, and memories, and hopes. Of what, then, will these be comings-to-be? For no deficiency of anything has occurred, of which there could be a replenishment. In reply to those who bring forward the shameful pleasures, one might say that these are not pleasant—for it does not follow, just because they are pleasant to people in a bad condition, that we should think them pleasant except to these people, just as things healthy, sweet, or bitter to the sick are not therefore healthy, sweet, or bitter (except to them), nor are the things that appear white to those with ophthalmia therefore white. Or one might put it this way: that the pleasures are choiceworthy, but not when derived from these sources, just as being wealthy is choiceworthy, but not by betraying someone, and being healthy, but not by eating just anything. Or the pleasures differ in kind: those from fine things are different from those from shameful ones, and it is not possible to feel the pleasure of the just person without being just, nor that of the musical person without being musical, and likewise in the other cases too. The contrast between a genuine friend and a flatterer also seems to reveal something: either pleasure fails to be a good, or pleasures come in distinct kinds; for the one seems to keep company with a view to the good, the other with a view to pleasure, and the one is reproached for it, while the other is praised on the ground that he keeps company with a view to other things. [1174a] And no one would choose to live having the mind of a child throughout his life, even though taking as much pleasure as possible in the things children take pleasure in, nor to enjoy doing something utterly shameful, even if never going to feel pain over it. And we would take pains about many things
6| even if they brought no pleasure, such as seeing, remembering, knowing, having the virtues. And if pleasures follow on these of necessity, that makes no difference; for we would choose these things even if no pleasure came from them. That pleasure, then, is not the good, and that not every pleasure is choiceworthy, seems clear; and that there are some pleasures choiceworthy in their own right, differing in kind or in their sources. Let what is said about pleasure and pain, then, be sufficient. What it is, or what sort of thing it is, would become clearer if we take it up again from the beginning. For sight seems to be complete at any time whatsoever; for it is not lacking in anything which, coming to be later, will complete its form—and pleasure seems to be like this too. For it is a kind of whole, and one could not take a pleasure at any time such that, if it went on happening for a longer time, its form would be completed. For this reason it is not a motion either. For every motion takes place in time and is for the sake of some end, as, for instance, building, and is complete when it has produced what it aims at—either in the whole of the time, or at this point. But in its parts, and in the time it takes, all motions are incomplete, and differ in kind both from the whole and from one another. For the fitting together of the stones is different from the fluting of the column, and these are different from the making of the temple; and the making of the temple is complete—for it lacks nothing with a view to what was proposed—while that of the base and of the triglyph is incomplete, for each is the making of a part. They differ, then, in kind, and it is not possible to take a motion complete in kind at any time whatsoever, but only, if at all, in the whole time. And likewise too in the case of walking and the rest. If
7| For locomotion is motion from one place to another, and its differentiae are by species: flying, walking, jumping, and the like. And this holds not only in this way, but also within walking itself: the from-where and to-where are not the same for the whole stadium-course as for a part of it, nor are they the same for one part as for another, nor is traversing this line the same as traversing that one; [1174b] for one does not merely traverse a line, but a line that is in a place, and this line is in a different place from that one. Now the exact account of motion has been given elsewhere; but it seems that motion is not complete in every period of time, but that most motions are incomplete and differ in species, if indeed the from-where and to-where give a motion its specific character. But the form of pleasure is complete in any period of time whatever. It is clear, then, that pleasure and motion would be different from each other, and that pleasure belongs among the things that are whole and complete. This would seem to follow also from the fact that it is not possible to be in motion without being in time, but it is possible to feel pleasure without being in time: for what happens in the now is a kind of whole. From this it is also clear that people are wrong to say that pleasure is a motion or a coming-into-being. For these terms are not said of everything, but only of things that are divisible and not whole: for there is no coming-into-being of seeing, nor of a point, nor of a unit, nor is any of these a motion or a coming-into-being; nor, then, is pleasure such a thing, for it is a kind of whole. Since every perception is active in relation to its perceptible object, and a perception that is well disposed is active completely in relation to the finest of the objects that fall under it (for this seems most of all to be complete activity; and let it make no difference whether we say the perception itself is active, or that in which it resides is active), then in each case the best activity is that of the thing that is in the best condition in relation to the most excellent of the things that fall under it. And this activity would be
8| the most complete and the most pleasant. For there is pleasure in connection with every perception, and likewise with thought and contemplation, and the most pleasant is the most complete, and the most complete is that of the thing in good condition in relation to the most excellent of the things that fall under it; and pleasure completes the activity. But pleasure does not complete the activity in the same way that the perceptible object and the perception, being excellent, complete it, any more than health and the doctor are causes of being healthy in the same way. That pleasure arises in connection with each perception is clear (for we say that sights and sounds are pleasant); and it is clear too that this happens most of all when the perception is at its best and is active in relation to an object of that same quality; and when the perceptible object and the perceiver are both of this quality, there will always be pleasure, so long as there is something to produce it and something to undergo it. Pleasure completes the activity not as the state that already inheres in it does, but as a kind of end that supervenes on it, the way the bloom of youth does for those in their prime. So then, as long as the object of thought or perception is as it should be, and likewise the thing that judges or contemplates it, [1175a] pleasure will be present in the activity; for when the passive and the active factor are similar and stand toward each other in the same way, the same result naturally comes about. So why does nobody experience pleasure without a break? Perhaps because fatigue sets in? For nothing human is able to be active continuously. So pleasure does not arise continuously either, since it follows upon the activity. Some things delight us because they are new, but afterward not to the same degree, and for the same reason: at first the mind is roused and is active about them intently, the way people are when they look closely at something with their eyes, but afterward the activity is no longer of that kind but
9| becomes careless; and so the pleasure fades too. One might suppose that all things desire pleasure, because all things also aim at living: for life is a kind of activity, and each thing is active about, and with, those things it cares for most — the musician, for instance, with his hearing, about melodies; the lover of learning with his thought, about objects of study; and so too with each of the rest. And pleasure completes the activities, and so it completes living too, which is what they desire. It is reasonable, then, that they should also aim at pleasure, since for each of them it completes living, which is desirable. Whether we choose living for the sake of pleasure, or pleasure for the sake of living, let this be set aside for the present. For these two appear to be yoked together and not to admit of separation: pleasure does not arise without activity, and pleasure completes every activity. This is why pleasures also seem to differ in species. For we think that things differing in species are completed by different things (this is how it appears both with natural things and with things produced by craft — animals, trees, a painting, a statue, a house, a piece of furniture); and likewise activities that differ in species are completed by things that differ in species. Now the activities of thought differ in species from those connected with the senses, and the sense-activities differ in species from one another; and so, then, do the pleasures that complete them. This would also become apparent from the fact that each of the pleasures is bound up as its own with the activity it completes. For the pleasure proper to an activity increases that activity. For those who are active with pleasure judge each thing better and work it out more precisely; for example, those who enjoy doing geometry become good geometers and understand each point better; and likewise music-lovers and lovers of building, and each of the others,
10| make progress in their own proper work by enjoying it. The pleasures increase the activities, and what increases a thing is proper to it; but [1175b] for things that differ in species, the things proper to them also differ in species. This would become still more apparent from the fact that pleasures arising from other activities are obstacles to the activity at hand. For lovers of the flute are unable to attend to arguments if they overhear someone playing the flute, since they enjoy flute-playing more than the activity at hand; so the pleasure connected with flute-playing destroys the activity connected with argument. The same thing happens in other cases too, whenever someone is active about two things at once: the more pleasant activity drives out the other, and the more it differs from it in pleasantness, the more it does so, until one no longer engages in the other activity at all. This is why, when we enjoy something intensely, we scarcely do anything else, and we do other things only when we are mildly pleased by them — as, for example, people in theaters who nibble on snacks do this most of all when the competitors performing are poor. Since, then, the pleasure proper to an activity makes activities more precise, more lasting, and better, while pleasures foreign to it damage them, it is clear that the two differ widely. For foreign pleasures do more or less what pains proper to an activity do: pains proper to an activity destroy it, as, for instance, if someone finds writing unpleasant and painful, or reasoning; for one person does not write, and the other does not reason, because the activity is painful. So the effect on the activity from pleasures and pains proper to it is opposite in each case; and those are proper to it which arise on the activity in its own right. And it has been said that foreign pleasures do something close to what pain does: they destroy the activity too, though not in the same way. And since activities differ in decency
11| and badness, and while some are choiceworthy, others are to be avoided, and others neither, the pleasures are likewise: for corresponding to each activity there is a proper pleasure. So the one proper to the excellent activity is decent, and the one proper to the base activity is bad; for even appetites for fine things are praiseworthy, while those for shameful things are blameworthy. But the pleasures present in the activities themselves are more proper to them than the desires are; for the desires are marked off both in time and in nature, while the pleasures are close to the activities, and so indistinguishable from them that there is a dispute whether the activity is the same as the pleasure. Still, pleasure does not seem to be thought, nor perception (for that would be absurd), but because the two are not found apart it appears to some people to be the same. So then, just as the activities are different, so are the pleasures. [1176a] Vision surpasses touch in cleanliness, as hearing and smell surpass taste; the pleasures differ in this same manner, and among them, and so likewise do the pleasures differ, and the pleasures of thought differ from these bodily ones, and each of the two classes differs within itself. Every creature seems to possess a pleasure suited to itself, just as it possesses a function of its own; namely, the pleasure that matches its activity. And this would be evident if one considered each case: for the pleasure of a horse, of a dog, and of a human being are different, just as Heraclitus says that donkeys would choose refuse rather than gold, since fodder is more pleasant than gold to donkeys. So the pleasures of things differing in species differ in species, and it is reasonable that those of the same things be undifferentiated. But they differ not a little at any rate in the case of human beings: for the same things delight some and pain others, and are painful and hateful to some but pleasant and lovable to others. And this happens with sweet things too: the same things do not seem so to a man in a fever and to a healthy man, nor does the same thing seem warm to a weak person and to a
12| person in good condition. And the same thing happens likewise in other cases as well. It seems that in all such cases, what is truly so is what appears so to the excellent person. And if this is well said, as it seems to be, and virtue and the good person, insofar as he is good, are the measure of each thing, then the things that appear pleasures to him would be pleasures, and the things pleasant would be the things he takes delight in. And if the things that are disagreeable to him appear pleasant to someone, that is no wonder; for there are many ways in which human beings are corrupted and damaged. Such things are not pleasant, but only to these people, and to people in that condition. So then, it is clear that the pleasures that are admittedly shameful should not be said to be pleasures at all, except to the corrupted. But among the pleasures that seem to be decent, which sort or which one should be said to be that of a human being? Or is it clear from the activities? For the pleasures follow upon these. So whether the activities of the complete and blessed man are one or several, the pleasures that complete these would properly be said to be the pleasures of a human being, and the rest would be pleasures in a secondary and much lesser way, just as the activities are. Now that we have discussed virtue and friendship and pleasure, it remains to go over happiness in outline, since we posit it as the end of human affairs. The account would be more concise if we take up again what has already been said. We said, then, that happiness is not a state of character; for otherwise it could belong to someone asleep throughout his life, living the life of a plant, and to someone experiencing the greatest misfortunes. [1176b] If, then, these consequences are not acceptable, but happiness must rather be posited as some kind of activity, as has been said earlier, and of activities some are necessary and choiceworthy for the sake of other things, while others are choiceworthy in their own right, it is clear that happiness must be posited as one of those choiceworthy in their own right and
13| not one of those choiceworthy for the sake of something else; for happiness lacks nothing but is self-sufficient. Those activities are choiceworthy in their own right from which nothing further is sought beyond the activity. And the actions in accordance with virtue seem to be of this sort; for doing fine and excellent things is among the things choiceworthy for their own sake. And so are the pleasant amusements; for people do not choose them for the sake of other things, since they are harmed by them rather than benefited, as they neglect their bodies and their property. Most of those who are counted happy take refuge in pastimes of this sort, which is why people clever at such pastimes are held in high regard among tyrants; for they make themselves pleasant in the very things the tyrants desire, and tyrants need people of that sort. So these things seem to belong to happiness because people in positions of power spend their leisure in them, but perhaps such people are no evidence of anything; for virtue does not consist in wielding power, nor does intellect, from which the excellent activities come. Nor, if these people, being untasted of pure and liberal pleasure, take refuge in the bodily pleasures, should we for that reason think these more choiceworthy; for children too think that the things valued among themselves are the best things there are. So it is reasonable that, just as different things appear honorable to children and to men, so too different things appear honorable to base people and to decent people. So then, as has often been said, the things that are honorable and pleasant are the things that are such to the excellent person; and for each person the activity in accordance with his own state of character is most choiceworthy, and so for the excellent person it is the activity in accordance with virtue. Happiness, then, does not lie in amusement; for it would indeed be absurd if the end were amusement, and if one were to labor and suffer hardship throughout life
14| all for the sake of amusing oneself. For we choose practically everything for the sake of something else, except happiness; for happiness is an end. But to be serious and to labor for the sake of amusement appears foolish and altogether childish. To amuse oneself, as Anacharsis says, so that one may be serious, seems to be correct; for amusement is like relaxation, and since people are unable to labor continuously, they need relaxation. Relaxation, then, is not an end; for it occurs for the sake of activity. [1177a] And the happy life seems to be a life in accordance with virtue; and this is a life lived with seriousness, not spent in amusement. And we say that serious things are better than laughable things and things done with amusement, and that the activity of the better part, or of the better person, is always more serious; and the activity of the better is already superior and more conducive to happiness. And bodily pleasures could be enjoyed by anyone at all, even a slave, no less than by the best person; but no one grants a slave a share of happiness, unless one also grants him a share of life. For happiness does not lie in such pastimes, but in the activities in accordance with virtue, as has been said before as well. And if happiness is activity in accordance with virtue, it is reasonable that it be in accordance with the most excellent virtue; and this would be the virtue of the best part of us. Whether this is intellect, then, or something else, which by its nature seems to rule and lead and to have understanding about fine and divine things, whether it is itself something divine or is the most divine element within us, the activity of this in accordance with its proper virtue would be complete happiness. That this activity is contemplative has been said. And this would seem to be in agreement both with what was said earlier and with the truth. For this activity is the most excellent,
15| since intellect is the most excellent thing within us, and among the objects of knowledge, those with which intellect is concerned are the most excellent. Further, it is the most continuous; for we are able to contemplate more continuously than we are able to do anything whatsoever. And we think that pleasure must be mixed in with happiness, and among the activities in accordance with virtue, the one in accordance with wisdom is admittedly the most pleasant; at any rate, philosophy seems to hold wondrously pleasant delights, in purity and steadfastness, and it is reasonable that the pastime of those who know be more pleasant than that of those who are still seeking. And what is called self-sufficiency would belong most of all to the contemplative activity; for while the wise person, like the just person and the rest, needs the necessities for life, once these have been adequately supplied, the just person still needs people toward whom and with whom he will act justly, and likewise the temperate person and the courageous person and each of the others, but the wise person is able to contemplate even by himself, and the wiser he is, the more he is able to do so; perhaps it is better for him to have co-workers, but all the same he is the most self-sufficient. [1177b] And this activity alone would seem to be loved for its own sake; for nothing comes from it beyond the contemplating itself, whereas from the practical activities we gain something more or less beyond the action itself. And happiness seems to lie in leisure; for we are unleisured in order that we may have leisure, and we make war in order that we may live in peace. Now the activity of the practical virtues occurs in political or military affairs, but the actions concerned with these seem to be unleisured — the military actions entirely so (for no one chooses to make war for the sake of making war, nor
16| brings about war: for one would seem an utterly bloodthirsty sort of person if he made war on his friends, in order that there might be battles and slaughter: but the political life is also unleisured, and aims, beyond the very activity of engaging in politics, at positions of power and honors, or at any rate at happiness for himself and for the citizens, an end that is different from political activity itself, and which we are seeking as clearly being something different. If then, among actions in accordance with the virtues, political and military actions stand out in nobility and greatness, but these are unleisured and aim at some end and are not choiceworthy for their own sakes, while intellect's activity, being contemplative, seems markedly more earnest in character: it pursues no goal outside itself, possesses a pleasure that belongs to it alone (and this pleasure further builds up the activity), and shows the self-sufficiency, leisure, and tirelessness proper to a human being, along with whatever else gets attributed to the blessed man — all of these evidently characterize this activity. This, accordingly, would constitute complete happiness for a human being, provided it spans a complete lifetime, since nothing incomplete counts as happiness. Such a life would be superior to the human level: for a person will not live like this insofar as he is a human being, but insofar as something divine is present in him; and by as much as this differs from the composite of soul and body, by so much does its activity differ from that in accordance with the other kind of virtue. If then intellect is something divine in comparison with man, so too the life in accordance with it is divine in comparison with human life. One should not, as some advise, think human thoughts because one is human, or mortal thoughts because one is mortal, but should instead, so far as possible, make oneself immortal, and do everything toward living in accordance with the most excellent thing within oneself: for even if it is small in bulk,
17| [1178a] in power and worth it far surpasses everything else. And each person would seem actually to be this, if indeed it is the authoritative and better part of him. It would be strange, then, if one were not to choose one's own life but that of something else. And what was said before will fit here too: for what is proper to each thing by nature is the most excellent and most pleasant thing for that thing; and so for man, the life in accordance with intellect is most pleasant, if indeed this is most of all what a man is. This life, then, is also the happiest. Second is the life in accordance with the other kind of virtue: for the activities in accordance with this are human activities. For we perform just and courageous acts, and the rest in accordance with the virtues, toward one another, in contracts and services and actions of every sort, and in our feelings, preserving what is fitting for each person; and all these appear to be human matters. Some of them also seem to result from the body, and the virtue of character is closely bound up in many ways with the feelings. Practical wisdom, too, is yoked together with virtue of character, and this with practical wisdom, if indeed the principles of practical wisdom accord with the ethical virtues, and the correctness of the ethical virtues accords with practical wisdom. These, being linked also to the feelings, would concern the composite of soul and body; and the virtues of the composite are human virtues; so too, then, is the life in accordance with them, and the happiness that goes with it. But the happiness of the intellect is separate: let this much be said about it, for to work it out with precision is a larger task than the one now before us. It would seem, too, to need external equipment to a small extent, or to a lesser extent,
18| than the ethical life does. For the necessities are needed by both alike, let us grant, even if the political man works harder over the body and such things — that would make only a small difference; but with a view to the activities there will be a great difference. For the generous man will need money in order to do generous acts, and so will the just man for repayments (for wishes are unclear, and even the unjust pretend to wish to act justly), and the courageous man will need power, if he is to accomplish any of the acts in accordance with virtue, and the temperate man will need opportunity: for how else will he, or any of the others, be made evident? It is also disputed whether choice or actions are more authoritative for virtue, on the supposition that it lies in both: [1178b] well, clearly the complete good would lie in both; but for actions many things are needed, and the greater and nobler they are, the more things are needed. But for the one who is contemplating, none of these things are needed, at least for the activity itself; rather, one might say, they are even obstacles, at any rate to contemplation. But insofar as he is a human being and lives together with a number of others, he chooses to do the acts in accordance with virtue; he will need such things, then, for living as a human being. That complete happiness is a contemplative activity would appear also from the following consideration. We suppose the gods to be most of all blessed and happy; but what sort of actions must we assign to them? Just acts? Or will they look ridiculous making contracts and returning deposits and so on? Courageous acts, then, enduring frightening things and facing danger because it is noble? Or generous acts? But to whom will they give? It would also be strange if
19| they are to have currency or something of the sort. And what would their temperate acts be? Is it not a vulgar kind of praise, that they do not have base appetites? If one goes through everything, all the things connected with action will appear small and unworthy of gods. And yet everyone supposes them to be alive, and therefore active; for surely they are not asleep like Endymion. If, then, for a living being acting is taken away, and still more producing, what is left but contemplation? So the activity of god, surpassing in blessedness, would be contemplative; and among human activities, then, the one most akin to this is the one most conducive to happiness. A sign of this too is that the other animals have no share in happiness, being entirely deprived of such activity. For gods, the whole of life is blessed; for humans, it is so to the extent that some likeness of such activity belongs to them; but none of the other animals is happy, since they in no way share in contemplation. To whatever extent, then, contemplation extends, so too does happiness, and those to whom contemplating belongs more fully are happier too, not incidentally but in virtue of the contemplation itself, for this is valuable in its own right. So happiness would be a kind of contemplation. But being human, one will also need external prosperity: for human nature is not self-sufficient for contemplating, but the body too must be healthy, and food and the rest of one's care must be available. [1179a] Still, one must not think that the man who is to be happy will need many great things, even if it is not possible to be blessed without external goods: for self-sufficiency and action do not lie in excess, and it is possible to do
20| noble deeds even without ruling over land and sea: for one could act in accordance with virtue even from moderate means, and this one can see clearly, for private individuals seem to do decent acts no less than men of power — indeed even more so. And it is enough for so much to be available: for the life of the one who is active in accordance with virtue will be happy. And Solon, too, perhaps described the happy well, when he said they were people moderately furnished with external things, but who had done the noblest deeds, as he thought, and had lived temperately: for it is possible, possessing moderate means, to do what one ought. Anaxagoras too seems to have supposed the happy man to be neither rich nor powerful, saying that he would not be surprised if such a person appeared strange to the many: for the many judge by external things, since these are all they perceive. So the views held by wise men appear to agree with what has been argued. Such considerations, then, carry some conviction; but in practical matters, truth is judged from actions and from life, since these are what is authoritative. One must, then, examine what has been said by bringing it to bear on actions and on life, and if it harmonizes with the actions, one should accept it, but if it conflicts, one should suppose it to be mere words. And the one who is active in accordance with intellect, and who cultivates this and is in the best condition, seems also to be most beloved by the gods. For if the gods have any care for human affairs, as they are held to have, it stands to reason that they delight in whatever is finest and most closely related to them (and that would be intellect), and that they repay with good those who cherish and honor this most of all, since such people look after what the gods hold dear and act correctly and nobly. That all this belongs
21| that this belongs most of all to the wise person is not unclear. He is therefore most beloved by god. And it is likely that the same person is also happiest; so that in this way too the wise person would be happiest. Now then, if what has been said about these matters and about the virtues, and further about friendship and pleasure, has been stated adequately in outline, should we suppose that our undertaking has reached its end? Or is it rather, as is said, [1179b] that in matters of action the end is not to survey and know each thing but rather to do it — nor, indeed, is knowing about virtue enough, but we must try to have and use it, or in some other way become good? If, then, arguments were sufficient by themselves to make people decent, they would justly carry many great rewards, as Theognis says, and such rewards would need to be procured; but as things stand, arguments appear to have the strength to stir and urge on the young who are naturally well-born, and to make a noble character, one truly a lover of the fine, take hold from virtue, while they are unable to stir the many toward nobility and goodness. For the many are not by nature disposed to obey a sense of shame but rather fear, nor to abstain from base things because of their disgracefulness but because of the punishments; for living by feeling they pursue the pleasures proper to themselves and the means by which these will come about, and they flee the opposite pains, and they have no notion at all of the fine and of what is truly pleasant, since they have never tasted it. What argument, then, could reshape people of this sort? For it is not possible, or not easy, to change by argument what has long been seized upon by character. Perhaps we should be content if, when everything is present through which we suppose people become decent, we get a share
22| of virtue. Now some think people become good by nature, others by habit, others by teaching. As for what comes from nature, clearly this is not up to us, but belongs, through certain divine causes, to those who are truly fortunate; while argument and teaching, it may be, do not have force in everyone, but the soul of the hearer must first have been worked upon by habits toward finding proper delight and proper hatred, like soil that is to nourish the seed. For someone who lives by feeling would not listen to an argument that turns him away, nor even understand it; and how is it possible to persuade someone in such a state to change his mind? And in general feeling does not seem to yield to argument but to force. So character must in some way already belong, ahead of time, to virtue — loving the fine and finding the base disgraceful. But it is hard to hit upon a correct upbringing toward virtue from youth unless one is raised under such laws; for living temperately and with endurance is not pleasant to most people, especially the young. That is why their nourishment and pursuits must be ordered by laws, for they will not be painful once they have become habitual. [1180a] But perhaps it is not enough for the young to get correct nourishment and care; rather, since they must also practice these things and become habituated to them once they are grown men, we would need laws for this as well, and in general for the whole of life. For the many obey necessity rather than argument, and penalties rather than the fine. This is why some believe lawgivers should summon people toward virtue and press them onward for the sake of what is fine, expecting a hearing from those already brought forward decently by habit, yet should lay chastisement and punishment upon the disobedient and the less well-favored by nature, and should exile those beyond cure
23| altogether. For, they think, the decent person, since he lives with an eye to the fine, will obey argument, while the base person, reaching for pleasure, will be chastised by pain like a beast of burden. That is also why they say the pains inflicted should be the ones most opposed to the pleasures he loves. If, then, as has been said, the person who is to be good must be nobly nourished and habituated, and must then go on living amid decent pursuits and doing base things neither unwillingly nor willingly, this would come about for people living according to a certain intellect and a correct ordering possessing strength. A father's command, then, possesses neither this strength nor real compulsion, nor for that matter does any single man's command carry it, unless that man happens to be a king or someone of like standing; law, by contrast, holds coercive force, being reasoned speech issuing from a certain practical wisdom and intellect. And while people hate those among men who oppose their impulses, even if they do so rightly, law is not oppressive in laying down what is decent. Only in the city of the Spartans, or in a few others besides, does the lawgiver seem to have taken care over nourishment and pursuits; in most cities such matters have been utterly neglected, and each person lives as he wishes, laying down the law for his children and wife in Cyclops fashion. Now the best thing would be for there to be a correct, common care, and for the community to be able to put it into practice; but where the community neglects this, it would seem to fall to each person to help his own children and companions toward virtue, or at any rate to make that his choice. And this he would seem more able to do if he had become skilled in lawgiving on the basis of what has been said. For it is clear that common care comes about through laws
24| and decent care through good laws. [1180b] Whether these are written or unwritten would seem to make no difference, nor whether it is one person or many who are to be educated through them, just as it makes no difference in the case of music, gymnastics, and the other pursuits. For just as in cities the established customs and the character of the people give force to the laws, so too in households the father's words and habits give force, and even more so because of kinship and benefits received; for the children already begin, by nature, with affection and obedience. Further, education tailored to the individual differs from education given in common, as in medicine; for in general rest and abstaining from food are beneficial to a person with fever, but perhaps not to some particular person, and likewise a boxing trainer perhaps does not fit out everyone with the same style of fighting. It would seem, then, that the individual case is treated with greater precision when the care given is particular to that person, for then each one is more likely to hit upon what suits him. But a doctor, a trainer, and everyone else who knows the universal — what applies to everyone, or to people of a certain kind (for the sciences are said to be, and are, of the common) — would give the best care in each particular case too. Not that this rules out someone caring well for one particular person even without scientific knowledge, if he has closely observed, through experience, what happens in each case — just as some people seem to be the best doctors for themselves, though they would be unable to be of any help at all to someone else. Nonetheless, it would seem that anyone who wishes to become skilled in the craft and given to theoretical study must proceed to the universal, and come to know that as far as possible; for it has been said that the sciences are concerned with this. And perhaps anyone who wishes, through care, to make people better — whether many or few — must also try to become skilled in lawgiving
25| if it is through laws that we become good. For to dispose well whoever is set before us, whoever that may be, is not a task for just anyone, but if for anyone, for the one who knows, as in medicine and in the rest of the fields where there is some kind of care and practical wisdom involved. Should we, then, next examine from where, or how, one might become skilled in lawgiving? Or, as in other cases, is it from statesmen? For lawgiving seemed to be a part of statesmanship. Or does statesmanship not appear to resemble the rest of the sciences and capacities? For in the other cases the same people are seen both handing down the capacities and exercising them from what they have handed down, as with doctors or painters; but as for political matters, the sophists profess to teach them, [1181a] yet none of them practices politics — rather, those active in politics do, who would seem to do this through some capacity and experience rather than through thought. For they are not seen writing or speaking about such matters (though that would perhaps have been finer than composing speeches for the lawcourts and the assembly), nor again have they made their own sons, or any others among their friends, into statesmen. Yet it would have been reasonable for them to do so, if they had been able; for they would have left nothing better to their cities, nor would they have chosen for themselves to possess any capacity rather than this one, nor indeed for those dearest to them. Still, experience does not seem to contribute a small amount; for otherwise people would not become statesmen through political familiarity. That is why, for those who reach after knowledge about political matters, experience seems needed in addition. But among the sophists, those who profess to teach it appear to be very far removed from actually teaching it. For in general they do not even know what sort of thing it is, or what sort of things it concerns; for if they did
26| they would not have set it down as the same as rhetoric, nor even as inferior to it, nor would they have thought that legislating was easy for someone who simply collected the laws that are well regarded — for, they say, one need only select the best of them, as if the selecting itself did not require understanding, and as if judging correctly were not the greatest thing, just as in matters of music. For those experienced in each field judge the products correctly, and understand by what means and how each is brought to completion, and which things harmonize with which; but for those without experience it is enough if it does not escape them whether the work has been done well or badly, as in painting. Now laws are like the products of political science: [1181b] how, then, could anyone become skilled in legislation from these, or judge which are the best, on this basis? For it does not appear that people become skilled physicians from written treatises either. And yet these try to state not only the treatments, but also how patients might be cured and how one ought to treat each case, distinguishing the different conditions; and these seem to be useful to those with experience, but useless to those without knowledge. So perhaps collections of laws and of constitutions too would be very useful to those able to study them and judge what is done well or the opposite, and which things fit with which; but for those who go through such things without the relevant state of character, correct judgment could not be present in them, unless it comes about by chance — though they might perhaps become more intelligent about these matters. Since, then, our predecessors have left the subject of legislation unexamined, it is perhaps better for us to look into it ourselves, and indeed into the subject of constitutions generally, so that, as far as possible, philosophy concerning human affairs may be brought to completion. First, then, let us try to go over whatever has been well said on particular points by earlier thinkers; then, from the constitutions that have been collected, let us examine what preserves and what destroys cities, and what preserves or destroys each of the constitutions, and for what causes some
27| are governed well and others the opposite. For once these matters have been studied, we might perhaps better discern both which constitution is best, and how each should be arranged, and using what laws and customs. Let us then begin and speak of these things.