Magna Moralia · Book I

Aristotle · a new plain-English translation from the original language

1| Great Ethics, Book A. [section 1] Since we have chosen to speak about ethical matters, the first thing to consider would be what part character is a part of. To put it concisely, it would seem to be a part of nothing other than political science. For nothing can be done in political affairs without being a certain kind of person -- I mean, for example, a good person; and being good consists in having the virtues. [section 2] It is necessary, then, if someone is going to be capable of action in political affairs, that his character be good. [section 3] The inquiry concerning character is, then, as it appears, a part and a starting point of political science, but the whole undertaking would rightly, it seems to me, be named not ethics but politics. [section 4] It is necessary, then, as it appears, first to speak about virtue -- both what it is and from what it arises. For it is perhaps of no use to know virtue but not understand how it will come to be and from what. For we must not only investigate in order to know what it is, but also investigate what it will arise from. For we wish at the same time to know it and to be such ourselves; and we will not be able to do this unless we know both from what and how it will come to be.

2| [section 5] It is necessary, then, to know what virtue is (for it is not easy to know what it will arise from and how, while being ignorant of what it is -- just as with the sciences). And we must not fail to notice whether anyone earlier has spoken about these matters. [section 6] Pythagoras, then, was the first to attempt to speak about virtue, but not correctly; for by reducing the virtues to numbers he did not produce an inquiry proper to the virtues, since justice is not a number equal multiplied by equal. [section 7] After him Socrates, coming later, spoke better and at greater length about these matters, but he too was not correct. For he made the virtues into forms of knowledge, and this is impossible. For all forms of knowledge involve reason, and reason arises in the rational part of the soul; so on his view all the virtues come to be in the rational part of the soul. It follows, then, that by making the virtues forms of knowledge he does away with the irrational part of the soul, and in doing this he does away with both emotion and character. [section 8] For this reason he did not lay hold of the virtues correctly. After this Plato divided the soul correctly into the part having reason and the part without reason, and assigned to each the virtues appropriate to it. Up to this point, then, well done; but after this he was no longer correct. For he mixed virtue [and yoked it] into the inquiry concerning the good, and this was not correct; for it was not proper to the subject. For someone speaking about being as such and about truth ought not to have set out an account of virtue, for the one has nothing in common with the other.

3| [section 9] These men, then, touched upon the subject to this extent and in this way; it would follow next to consider what we ourselves ought to say about these matters. First, then, we must see that of every science and capacity there is some end, and this end is a good; for no science and no capacity exists for the sake of nothing. [section 10] If, then, of all capacities the end is some good, it is clear that the end of the best capacity would also be the best good. But surely political science is the best capacity, so that its end would be [the] good. About the good, then, as it appears, we must speak -- and not about the good without qualification, but about the good for us; for it is not the good of god we are concerned with. That question belongs to another account, and the inquiry into it is foreign to our purpose here. [section 11] We must, then, speak about the good of political science. But again this too must be divided further. About the good in which sense? For it is not a simple thing. The good is spoken of either as that which is best in each of the things that are, and this is what is choiceworthy on account of its own nature; or as that in which the other things share and so are good, and this is the Form of the good. [section 12]

4| Should we, then, speak about the Form of the good, or not, but rather about the good as the common element present in all things? For this would seem to be different from the Form. For the Form is separate and exists in its own right, whereas the common element is present in all things, and is not the same as what is separate; for what is separate and by nature exists in its own right could never be present in all things at once. [section 13] Should we, then, speak about this good that is present within things, or not? Why or why not? Because this is the common element, as both the definition and induction show; and the definition seeks to state the substance of each thing -- either that it is good, or that it is bad, or whatever else it may be; and the definition says that the good in general is of such-and-such a kind, namely whatever is choiceworthy on its own account; and the good present in all things is like the definition in this respect. [section 14] But the definition says that a thing is good, whereas no science and no capacity says of its own end that it is good -- that is a matter for another capacity to consider (for neither the doctor nor the builder says that health, or the house, is good, but rather that the one produces health, and how it does so, and the other a house).

5| [section 15] It is clear, then, that political science too should not speak about the common good [as such]. For it is itself one among the rest of the sciences, and it was not the business of any capacity or science to speak of this as an end; nor, then, is it the business of political science to speak about the common good defined by definition. [section 16] But neither is it its business to speak of the common element arrived at by induction. Why? Because whenever we wish to show that some particular good thing is good, we show it either by definition -- that the same account applies both to the good and to this thing which we wish to show is good -- or by induction, as for instance when we wish to show that magnanimity is good, we say that justice is good, and courage, and the virtues in general, and that magnanimity is a virtue, so that magnanimity too is good. [section 17] So political science should not speak about the common good arrived at by induction either, because the same impossible consequences will result for this as for the common good defined by definition. For in that case too it will simply be saying that it is good. It is clear, then, that we must speak about the best good, and about what is best for us.

6| [section 18] But on the whole one can see that it is not the business of any single science or capacity to consider the good in general. Why? Because the good exists in all the categories; for it exists in the what, and in the of-what-quality, and in the how-much, and in when, and in relative-to-something [and to-what], and in short in all of them. [section 19] But surely the good when is known in medicine by the doctor, and in the pilot's art by the pilot, and in each science by its own practitioner. For the doctor knows when one ought to operate, and the pilot knows when one ought to sail; and in each science each practitioner will know the good when that belongs to it -- for the doctor will not know when is the good time in the pilot's art, nor will the pilot know it in medicine. So the common good should not be spoken of in this way either; for the when is common to all of them. [section 20] Likewise the relative-to-something good, and the good according to the other categories, is common to all the sciences, but it is the business of no single capacity or science to speak of the good when in each particular case, nor again is it the business of political science to speak about the common good. We must, then, speak about the good -- and about the best good, and about what is best for us.

7| [section 21] Nor, when one wants to demonstrate something, should one use examples that are not clear, but rather use the clear to explain the unclear, and the perceptible to explain the intelligible; [and] these are the clearer things. So whenever someone undertakes to speak about the good, he ought not to be speaking about the Form. [section 22] And yet they think that they must, when they speak about the good, speak about the Form; for they say that one must speak about the good in the fullest sense, and that each thing is most fully [the] thing of that sort, so that the Form is the good in the fullest sense, as they suppose. [section 23] Now this argument is perhaps true; but the political science or capacity that this discussion concerns does not examine the good in that sense, but rather the good for us, [for neither any science nor any capacity, in speaking of its end, says that the end is good in that sense, so neither does political science]. Hence it does not make its argument about the good in accordance with the Form. [section 24] But perhaps [he says] someone will say that, using this good as a starting point and proceeding from it in the case of particulars, he is still not speaking correctly even so. For one must take starting points that are proper to the matter. For it would be absurd if someone, wishing to show that a triangle has angles equal to two right angles, were to take as his starting point that the soul is immortal.

8| [section 25] For that is not a proper starting point; the starting point must be proper to the matter and connected to it. But as things stand, even without the soul being immortal, he will show that the triangle has angles equal to two right angles. [section 26] In the same way, then, it will be possible to observe the other goods without reference to the good according to the Form, which shows that this is not the proper starting point for this good. And the one who did the same in the case of the virtues was not right either. For he thought that none of them ought to be in vain, but from making the virtues into forms of knowledge it followed for him that the virtues were in vain. Why? Because with the sciences it follows that whoever knows what the science is, at the same time also possesses that knowledge (for if someone knows what medicine is, he is straightway a person possessing it, and likewise with the other sciences); but this does not hold in the case of the virtues. For it is not the case that if someone knows what justice is, he is thereby just; and the same holds for the others. It follows, then, that the virtues are in vain and are not forms of knowledge. [section 1]

9| Since these points have been settled, let us try to say in how many ways goods are spoken of. For of goods, some are honored, some are praiseworthy, and some are powers. The honored is of this kind: the divine, the better, such as soul, intellect, the more ancient, the principle, and things of this sort; for the things upon which honor rests are honored, and honor attends all such things. Virtue too, then, is honored, whenever indeed someone becomes a person of excellence as a result of it; for at that point he has already arrived at the shape proper to virtue. [section 2] The praiseworthy would be the virtues as states; for it is from the actions that arise from them that praise comes about. Goods of power are such things as rule, wealth, strength, beauty; for with these the excellent person could make good use, and the base person bad use; [section 3] hence such things are called goods of power — and they are indeed goods, since each of them is judged by the use the excellent person makes of it, not the use the base person makes of it. But it happens to belong to these same goods that chance is also a cause of their coming to be. For wealth comes about by chance, and rule, and in general everything that falls into the rank of a power. [section 4] There remains, then, a fourth kind of goods as well, the kind that preserves and produces good, such as exercises that produce health, and anything else of that sort.

10| [section 5] But goods admit of yet another division too: some goods are choiceworthy in every way and altogether, others not. For example, justice and the other virtues are choiceworthy in every way and altogether, whereas strength and wealth and power and things of that sort are choiceworthy neither in every way nor altogether. And there is also another way besides: [section 6] of goods, some are ends and others are not ends — health, for instance, is an end, while the things done for the sake of health are not ends. And in all cases of this kind, the end is always better; health, for instance, surpasses the things that promote it, and quite generally, whatever the rest exist for ranks always as the superior good. Again, among the ends themselves, the complete is always better than the incomplete. [section 7] Complete is that of which, once it is present, we still need nothing further; incomplete is that of which, once it is present, we still need something more — for example, once justice [only] is present, we still need many other things, but once happiness is present, we no longer need anything further. This, then, is the best thing for us, the thing we are seeking, which is the complete end; and the complete end is the good, and the end of goods. [section 8]

11| as though it too were to be counted in along with the rest; but that is absurd. For since the best is the complete end, and the complete end, speaking simply, would seem to be nothing other than happiness, and we compose happiness out of many goods — if, then, in examining the best you also count it in with those others, it will turn out to be better than itself. For it is itself the best. Take, for example, the health-promoting things together with health, and consider which of all these is best: the best is health. If, then, this is best of them all, it is also better than itself. [section 9] An absurdity results, then. Perhaps, then, the best should not be examined in this way after all. But is it perhaps to be examined in this other way, as apart from itself? Or is this too absurd? For happiness is composed out of certain goods; and to examine whether that out of which it is composed is better than it is absurd; for happiness is not something other apart from these goods, but is these very things. [section 10] But could one perhaps rightly examine it in this way instead, by comparing the best? Namely, comparing happiness itself, being what it is out of these goods, against other things not contained within it — would examining the best this way be correct? But the best that we are now seeking is not something simple. For example, someone might say that practical wisdom is the best of all goods, when all the goods are compared one against another.

12| [section 11] But perhaps the best good ought not to be sought in this way either. For we are seeking the complete good, and practical wisdom, being only one thing on its own, is not complete; so this is not the best that we are seeking, nor is the best to be sought in this manner. [section 1] After this point, then, goods admit of another division. For of goods, some are in the soul, such as the virtues; others are in the body, such as health and beauty; and others are external, such as wealth, rule, honor, and anything else of that kind. And of these, the goods in the soul are best. [section 2] The goods in the soul are further divided into three: into practical wisdom, into virtue, and into pleasure. Now, then, what comes after this we all say — and it seems to be so — is also the end of goods and the most complete thing, namely happiness; and we say that this is the same as faring well and living well. [section 3] But the end is not simple but twofold. For in the case of some things, the end is the actuality itself and the use of it, as with sight, [this is the seeing]; and indeed the use is more choiceworthy than the state, for the use is the end. For no one would want to have sight if he were never going to see, but would rather be blind.

13| [section 4] And likewise with hearing and things of that sort. So whatever things there is both [the] use and possession of, the use is always better and more choiceworthy than the possession; for the use, the activity, is the end, while the possession exists for the sake of the use. [section 5] After this, then, if one examines this point in the case of all the crafts, one will see that there is not one house and, separately, a good house, but that the house itself, that which the builder is productive of, its virtue is the [virtue] productive of this same thing well. Likewise [and] in all the other cases. [section 1] After this, then, we observe that we live by nothing else than soul; and virtue is in the soul. Indeed we say that the same thing constitutes the soul and constitutes the virtue of the soul. But virtue does this well in each thing of which it is the virtue, while the soul does the other things too, but it is by soul that we live; so it is through the virtue of the soul that we shall live well. [section 2] And living well and acting well are nothing other than what we call being happy. So being happy, and happiness, consists in living well, and living well consists in living in accordance with the virtues, not in accordance with the vices. This, then, is the end, both happiness and the supreme good.

14| [section 3] Happiness, then, would consist in a certain use and activity. For of the things of which there was possession and use, the use, the activity, is the end; and the virtue of the soul is a possession; but there is also an activity, [the] use, of the virtues; so that the end would be the activity and the use of it; happiness, then, would consist in living in accordance with the virtues. [section 4] Since, then, happiness is the best good, and this is an end, and a complete end consists in activity, we would be happy in living in accordance with the virtues, and we would possess the best good. [section 5] But since happiness is a complete good and an end, this too must not escape notice: that it is also in something complete. For it will not be in a child (for a child is not happy), but in a man; for he is complete. Nor again is it in an indefinite time, but in a complete time. And a complete time would be as much as a person lives. And indeed it is rightly said among the many that one must judge the happy person over the greatest span of his life, on the ground that the complete thing must be complete both in a complete time and in

15| a complete person. [section 6] And that it is an activity, one could see from this too. For in sleep — for instance if someone were to sleep his whole life through — we are not at all willing to call such a person happy; for living belongs to him, but living in accordance with the virtues does not belong to him, which was the thing that consisted in activity. [section 7] After this, what is about to be said would seem neither too proper to these matters nor too far removed from them. For instance, since there is, as it seems, a certain part of the soul by which we are nourished, which we call the nutritive part (for it is reasonable that this exists; at any rate we see that stones are incapable of being nourished, so that it is clear that being nourished belongs to things that have soul; [section 8] and if it belongs to things that have soul, the soul would be the cause of it; [section 9] but of the parts of the soul, none of these would be the cause of being nourished — neither the rational part, nor the spirited part, nor the appetitive part — but some other thing besides these, to which we have no more proper name to give than the nutritive part);

16| what then, someone might say, is there also a virtue of this part of the soul? For if there is, clearly it will be necessary for it too to be active; for the activity of complete virtue is happiness. Now whether there is a virtue of this or not is another discussion; but if indeed there is, there is no activity of it. For of things of which there is no impulse, there will be no activity of these either; and there does not seem to be an impulse in this part, but it seems to be like fire. For that too will consume whatever you throw into it, but if you do not throw anything in, it has no impulse to take anything. So too does this part of the soul behave: if you throw in nourishment, it nourishes, but if you do not throw in nourishment, it has no impulse to nourish. Hence there is no activity either, where there is no impulse either. So this part contributes nothing toward happiness. [section 10] After this, then, it would be necessary to say what virtue is, since happiness is the activity of this. So to speak simply, virtue is the best possession; but perhaps it is not sufficient to speak so simply, and one must draw the distinction more clearly.

17| [section 1] First, then, one must speak about the soul, not about what the soul is (for that is another discussion), but only in outline, and divide it. The soul, as we say, is divided into two parts, the part having reason and the part without reason. In the part having reason there arise practical wisdom, quickness of understanding, wisdom, ease in learning, memory, and such things; and in the irrational part there arise these things called virtues — temperance, justice, courage, and all the other qualities of character that seem praiseworthy. [section 2] For it is in respect of these that we are called praiseworthy; but in respect of the states of [the] part having reason no one is praised. For no one is praised for being wise, nor for being prudent, nor at all in respect of any such thing. Nor indeed is the irrational part praised, except insofar as it is subservient and serves the part having reason. [section 3] Ethical virtue is destroyed by deficiency and by excess. And that deficiency and excess destroy it, one can see from ethical matters (and one must use the clear cases as evidence for the unclear ones). One can see it straightaway in the case of physical training; for when much exercise occurs, strength is destroyed,

18| and likewise when little occurs. And similarly with drink and food; for when much occurs, health is destroyed, and likewise when little; but when a due measure occurs, strength and health are preserved. [section 4] And the same thing happens likewise in the case of temperance and courage and the other virtues. For if you make someone so fearless that he fears not even the gods, he is not courageous but mad, while if he fears everything, he is a coward; so the courageous person will be neither the one who fears everything nor the one who fears nothing. The same things, then, both increase and destroy virtue. [section 5] For indeed those who fear too much, and fear everything, are destroyed, and likewise those who fear nothing at all. Courage has to do with fears, so that moderate fears increase courage. By the same things, then, courage is both increased and destroyed; for it undergoes this because of fears. And likewise too the other virtues. [section 1] But one should not define virtue only by such things, but also by pain and pleasure; for it is because of pleasure that we do base things, and it is because of pain that we abstain from fine things; and in general it is not possible to grasp virtue and vice apart from pain and pleasure.

19| [section 2] Virtue, then, is concerned with pleasures and pains. Ethical virtue gets its name from this, if one must look at the truth as it stands, speaking close to the letter of the word (and perhaps one must). For "character" gets its name from "habit"; [section 3] it is called "ethical" on account of being habituated. From this it is also clear that none of the virtues of the irrational part comes to be in us by nature; for nothing that exists by nature is altered by habituation. For example, a stone, and heavy things generally, are naturally disposed to be carried downward; so if someone throws it upward many times and accustoms it to being carried upward, it will nevertheless never be carried upward, but always downward. The same holds [and] for other such things. [section 1] After this, then, those who wish to say what virtue is must know what the things are that arise in the soul. What arise are these: affections, capacities, states; so it is clear that virtue would be one of these. [section 2] Affections, then, are anger, fear, hatred, longing, envy, pity, and the like, which pain and pleasure regularly accompany; capacities are those in virtue of which we are said to be susceptible to these, those in virtue of which we are capable of becoming angry, being pained, feeling pity, [and] such things;

20| [section 3] states are those in virtue of which we are well or badly disposed with regard to these things — for example, with regard to getting angry: if we are prone to anger to excess, we are badly disposed with regard to anger, and if we do not get angry at all over things we should, we are likewise badly disposed with regard to anger. Being in the mean, then, is neither feeling excessive distress nor being wholly unfeeling. [section 4] So when we are disposed in this way, we are well disposed. And likewise [and] with the other similar cases. For being even-tempered and gentle is a mean between irascibility and unfeelingness with regard to anger. Likewise [and] in the case of boastfulness and so on. For claiming to have more of one's possessions than one has belongs to boastfulness, and claiming less belongs to self-deprecation; so the mean between these is truthfulness. [section 1] The same holds for all the other cases as well. For this belongs to a state: being well or badly disposed with regard to these things, and being well disposed with regard to them is being disposed neither toward excess nor toward deficiency; [section 2] the state of being well disposed, then, is in relation to the mean of such things, in respect of which we are called praiseworthy, and being badly disposed is in relation to excess and deficiency. Since, then, virtue is a mean concerning these affections, and the affections are either pains or pleasures or not without pain or pleasure, virtue is concerned with pains and pleasures — and this too makes it clear.

21| [section 3] There are also other affections, as it might seem to someone, in which the vice does not lie in a certain excess and deficiency — for example, adultery and the adulterer; the more culpable adulterer is not the one who corrupts more free women. But this too, and anything else of this kind, is bound up with the pleasure that goes with self-indulgence, or else it has what is blameworthy in a deficiency and in an excess. [section 1] After this, then, it is perhaps necessary to say what is opposed to the mean — whether excess or deficiency. For to some means deficiency is contrary, to others excess: for example, to courage it is not rashness, which is an excess, but cowardice, which is a deficiency, that is contrary; but to temperance, which is a mean between self-indulgence and insensibility concerning pleasures, it does not seem that insensibility, being a deficiency, is the contrary, but rather self-indulgence, being an excess. [section 2] But in fact both are contrary to the mean, excess and deficiency alike; for the mean is more than the deficiency and less than the excess. That is why the prodigal call the generous stingy, and the stingy call the generous prodigal; and the rash and reckless call the courageous cowardly, while the cowardly call the courageous reckless and mad.

22| [section 3] It is, it would seem, for two reasons that we set excess and deficiency in opposition to the mean. Either we look at the matter itself and ask which is nearer to the mean and which farther — for example, with generosity, whether prodigality or stinginess is farther from it. Prodigality would seem more like generosity than stinginess does; stinginess is therefore farther off. [section 4] And what lies farther from the mean would seem to be more contrary to it. So on this basis, taken from the matter itself, deficiency appears more contrary. But there is also another way: whatever we are more naturally disposed toward is more contrary to the mean. For example, we are more naturally disposed to be self-indulgent than well-ordered; so our tendency runs more toward what we are naturally disposed toward, and whatever we tend toward more is also more contrary; and we tend toward self-indulgence more than toward orderliness; so excess would be more contrary to the mean than deficiency is — for self-indulgence is an excess of temperance. [section 5] What virtue is, then, has been examined (for it seems to be a kind of mean of the affections, so that anyone who is to win a good reputation for character must preserve the mean in each of the affections; that is why it is a difficult task to be good;

23| [section 6] for in each case hitting the mean is a task; anyone can draw a circle, but finding the center already within it is difficult; likewise it is easy to become angry, and easy to feel the contrary of this too, but being in the mean is difficult. In general one can see in each of the affections that what lies on either side of the mean is easy, but the mean, in respect of which we are praised, is difficult; that is why goodness is rare); [section 7] since, then, we have spoken about virtue, after this it would be the next thing to examine whether it is possible for it to come about or not — or rather, as Socrates said, whether being good or bad is not up to us at all. For if, he says, one were to ask anyone whatever whether he would wish to be just or unjust, no one would choose injustice. [section 8] And likewise with courage and cowardice and the other virtues, always in the same way. It is clear, then, that if some people are bad, they would not be bad willingly; so it is clear that they are not good willingly either. [section 9] — But this argument is not true. For why does the lawgiver not permit doing bad things, and command doing fine and good ones? And why does he impose a penalty for bad acts, if one does them, and for good acts, if one fails to do them? Yet he would be absurd to legislate about things that are not up to us to do.

24| [section 10] Rather, it seems, being good and being bad are up to us. — Further, the praise and blame that occur bear witness to this. For there is praise for virtue and blame for vice; and there is no praise or blame for what is involuntary; so it is clear that doing good things and doing bad things are equally up to us. [section 11] — They also used to offer a certain comparison of this kind, wishing to show that virtue and vice are not voluntary. For why, they say, does no one blame people when they are sick or ugly? But this is not true; for we do blame such people too, when we think them responsible for being sick or for being in bad bodily condition, which shows that the voluntary is present here as well. It seems, then, that the voluntary belongs to virtue and vice. [section 1] — One might also see this more clearly from the following. Every nature is generative of a substance of the same kind that it itself is — for example, plants and animals, since both are generative. And they generate from starting points, as the tree generates from the seed; for this is a kind of starting point. And what comes after the starting points is disposed accordingly; for as the starting points are, so too are the things that come from them. This can be seen more clearly in the case of geometry.

25| [section 2] For there too, since certain principles are taken as given, whatever the principles are, so too are the things that follow from the principles — for example, if the triangle has angles equal to two right angles, and the square to four, then however the triangle changes, the square changes along with it (for they convert with each other), and if the square does not have angles equal to four right angles, neither will the triangle have angles equal to two right angles. [section 1] So too, and in the same way, with man. Since man is generative of substance, he is also generative, from certain principles, of the actions he performs. For what else could it be? For we say that none of the soulless things act, nor any of the ensouled things other than man. It is clear, then, that man is generative of actions. [section 2] Since, then, we see that actions change, and we never do the same things, and actions are generated from certain principles, it is clear that, since the actions change, the principles of the actions, from which they come, also change — just as we said when comparing the case in geometry. [section 3] Now the principle of action, both good action and bad, is choice and wish and everything in accordance with reason. It is clear, then, that these too change. And we change in our actions voluntarily; so the principle — [and] choice — changes [for] voluntarily. So it is clear that it would be up to us to be both good and bad.

26| [section 4] — Now perhaps someone would say: since it is up to me to be just and good, if I wish it, I will be the best of all. But this is not possible. Why? Because this does not happen even in the case of the body. For it is not the case that, if someone wishes to take care of his body, he will therefore have the best body of all. For it is necessary not only that the care be present, but also that the body be, by nature, fine and good. So the body will be better, but not best of all. [section 5] And one must suppose the same about the soul: for the person who chooses to be best will not be so, unless nature too is present, but he will be better. [section 1] Since, then, it appears that being good is up to us, it is necessary to speak next about the voluntary — what the voluntary is; for the voluntary is the thing most decisive for virtue. To speak simply, the voluntary may be said to be what we do without being compelled; but perhaps we should speak more clearly about it. [section 2] Now that in accordance with which we act is desire; and desire has three species: appetite, spirit, wish. First, then, we must examine action in accordance with appetite, whether it is voluntary or involuntary. [for example] It would not seem to be involuntary. Why, and on what grounds? Because whatever we do not do voluntarily, we do under compulsion, and upon everything done from necessity there follows

27| pain, whereas pleasure follows upon what is done through appetite, so that on this reasoning at least, what is done through appetite would not be involuntary, but voluntary. [section 3] — But again another argument opposes this, the one concerning lack of self-control. For no one, it is said, does bad things voluntarily, knowing that they are bad; but surely, it is said, the person who lacks self-control, knowing that these things are base, does them nonetheless, and does them in accordance with appetite; therefore he does not act voluntarily; therefore he acts under compulsion. [section 4] Here again the same argument will meet us. For even if it is in accordance with appetite, it is not from necessity; for pleasure follows upon appetite, and what is done for the sake of pleasure is not from necessity. — And in another way this too would become clear, that the person who lacks self-control acts voluntarily. For those who act unjustly act unjustly voluntarily, and those who lack self-control are unjust and act unjustly; so the person who lacks self-control would act voluntarily in what pertains to his lack of self-control. [section 1] — But again another argument opposes this, one which says it is not voluntary. For the person who has self-control acts voluntarily in what pertains to his self-control; for he is praised, and people are praised for voluntary things. But if what is in accordance with appetite is voluntary, what is against appetite is involuntary; and the person who has self-control acts against appetite; so the person who has self-control would not, in having self-control, be acting voluntarily. But this does not seem to be so; therefore what is in accordance with appetite is not voluntary either.

28| [section 2] Again, likewise with things in accordance with spirit; for the same arguments that fit the case of appetite apply here too, so that they will produce the same difficulty; for it is possible to lack self-control or to have self-control with respect to anger. [section 3] Further, of the kinds of desire we distinguished, wish still remains, for us to examine whether it is voluntary. But surely those who lack self-control, in the very things toward which they are impelled, wish for these at the time; therefore those who lack self-control do base things while wishing them. But no one voluntarily does bad things knowing that they are bad; yet the person who lacks self-control, knowing that the bad things are bad, does them while wishing to. Therefore he does not act voluntarily, and therefore wish is not voluntary either. [section 4] — But this argument does away with lack of self-control and the person who lacks it. For if he does not act voluntarily, he is not blameworthy; but the person who lacks self-control is blameworthy; therefore he acts voluntarily; therefore wish is voluntary. Since, then, certain arguments appear to be opposed to one another, we must speak more clearly about the voluntary. [section 1] It would be best, then, to speak first about force and about necessity. For force exists even among soulless things. For each of the soulless things has been assigned its own proper place — fire above, earth below; yet it is possible to force even a stone to be carried upward and fire downward.

29| [section 2] And it is possible to force an animal too — for example, to seize a horse running straight ahead and turn it back. Now for all those for whom the cause of their doing something contrary to nature, or contrary to what they wish, lies outside them, we will say that they act under force, if they act at all; but where the cause lies within them, in themselves, we will no longer say that these are being forced. [section 3] Otherwise, the person who lacks self-control will object, denying that he is base; for he will say that he does base things under compulsion, forced by appetite. [section 1] Let this, then, be our definition of the forced: that of which the cause lies outside, the cause by which people are forced to act (whereas of that of which the cause lies within, in themselves, there is no force). Again, we must speak about necessity and the necessary. The necessary is not to be spoken of without qualification or in every case — for example, the things we do for the sake of pleasure. For if someone were to say, 'I was compelled by pleasure to corrupt my friend's wife,' he would be absurd. [section 2] For the necessary is not found in every case, but rather already in external things — for example, whoever is harmed in exchanging one thing for some other, greater thing, being compelled by circumstances. For example, 'I was compelled to walk more strenuously into the field'; for otherwise I would have found the things in the field ruined. It is in such cases, then, that the necessary is found.

30| [section 1] Since, then, the voluntary lies in none of these impulses, what remains is that it is what comes about from thought. For the involuntary is what comes about by necessity and by force, and, as a third case, what does not come about with thought. This is clear from what actually happens. For whenever someone strikes another, or kills him, or does something of this kind without having thought about it beforehand, we say that he did it unwillingly, on the ground that the voluntary consists in having thought about it. [section 2] For example, they say that a certain woman once gave a love-potion to someone to drink, and the man then died from the potion, and the woman was acquitted before the Areopagus; and being present there, they released her for no other reason than that she had not acted with forethought. For she gave it out of affection, but she was mistaken in this; and for that reason it did not seem to be voluntary, because she did not give the potion with the thought of destroying him. Here, then, the voluntary falls under what is done with thought. [section 1] It further remains to examine choice, whether it is a desire or not. For desire arises in the other animals too, but choice does not; for choice involves reason, and reason is not present in any of the other animals. Desire, then, would not be choice —

31| [section 2] But is it perhaps wish? Or is that not it either? For wish is even of things impossible — for example, we wish to be immortal, but we do not choose this. Further, choice is not of the end, but of the things toward the end; for example, no one chooses to be healthy, but we choose the things toward health — to walk, to run — whereas we wish for ends. [section 3] For we wish to be healthy. So it is clear on this ground too that wish and choice are not the same thing; rather choice seems to be just what its very name indicates — we choose this instead of that, the better instead of the worse. So whenever we exchange the better for the worse where a selection is being made, there choosing would seem to be properly at home. [section 4] — Since, then, choice is none of these things, is it perhaps what belongs to thought — is choice a matter of thinking? Or is that not it either? For we think about and hold opinions about many things in thought; do we, then, also choose the things we think about? Or not? For we often think about matters in India, yet we surely do not also choose them. [section 5]

32| Choice, then, is not thought either. — Since, then, choice is, taken by itself, none of these things, and these are what occur in the soul, it is necessary [then] that choice consists in some combination of them. Since, then, as was said before, choice concerns the goods that lead toward the end and not the end itself, and concerns things possible for us, and things that admit dispute as to whether this or that is to be chosen, it is clear that one would first need to think about them and deliberate, and then, when after thinking it through something appears to us better, there follows a certain impulse to act, and it is in doing this that we seem to act by choice. [section 6] If, then, choice is a deliberative desire accompanied by thought, then the voluntary is not the same as the chosen. For we do many things voluntarily before thinking and deliberating — for example, we sit down and stand up and do many other such things voluntarily, but without thinking — whereas everything done by choice was accompanied by thought. [section 7] The voluntary, then, is not the chosen, but the chosen is voluntary; for if we choose to do something after deliberating, we do it voluntarily. A few even among the lawgivers appear to mark off the voluntary and what is done from choice as being different things, setting lesser penalties on voluntary acts than on those done by choice.

33| [section 8] — Choice, then, has to do with things that can be done, and among these, with those that are up to us both to do and not to do, and to do in this way or in that, and among those in which it is possible to grasp the reason why. And the "why" is not a simple thing. [section 9] For in geometry, when someone says the square has angles equal to four right angles, and one asks why, he says: because the triangle too has angles equal to two right angles. In cases of this kind, then, they get the "why" from a fixed starting point; but among the things that can be done, where choice operates, it is not so — for no starting point is laid down as fixed — but if someone should demand, "why did you do this?", one says, "because it could not be otherwise," or "because it is better this way." From the very outcomes — whichever appear to be better — these are what one chooses, and for these reasons one chooses them. [section 10] That is why, in such matters, deliberation concerns how one ought to act, but in the sciences it does not. For no one deliberates over how he ought to write the name Archicles, because it is fixed how one ought to write the name Archicles. The error, then, does not arise in the thinking, but in the activity of writing. For where the error is not in the thinking, people do not deliberate about those things either; but where the "how it ought to be" is already indeterminate, that is where the error lies.

34| [section 11] Now the indeterminate is found among the things that can be done, and among these, in cases where the errors are of two kinds. We go wrong, then, both in the things that can be done and, likewise, in matters bearing on the virtues. For in aiming at virtue we go wrong along the paths that naturally lead to it. For error occurs both in deficiency and in excess, and we are carried toward each of these because of pleasure and pain; for on account of pleasure we do base things, and on account of pain we shy away from fine things. [section 1] — Further, thought is not like perception — for example, sight could not do anything other than see, nor hearing anything other than hear. Similarly, we do not deliberate over whether we ought to hear with our hearing or to see with our sight. But thought is not like this; it is capable of doing this and other things besides. [section 2] For this reason, deliberation already has a place here. Error, then, lies in the selection among goods — not concerning the ends, for on these everyone agrees (that health, for example, is a good), but already concerning the things bearing on the end — for example, whether it is good for health to eat this or not. It is above all in these matters that pleasure and pain cause us to stumble; for we avoid the one and choose the other.

35| [section 3] What is virtue's aim directed at — the end, or the things toward the end? For example, is it the fine, or the things that lead toward the fine? [section 4] How then does this stand with a science? Does it belong to the science of building to set the end well, or to see to the things toward the end? For if it sets this well — for example, to make a fine house — no one other than the builder will discover and supply the things toward this. And likewise in all the other sciences too. [section 5] In the same way, then, it would seem to stand with virtue as well: that its aim is directed rather [toward] the end, which must be rightly set, than at the things toward the end; and no one else will supply the means from which this will come about, or discover what is needed for it. And it is also reasonable that virtue should be the one that sets the end; for wherever there is a starting point of what is best, that same thing is both the setter and the producer. Nothing, then, is better than virtue; for it is for the sake of virtue that the other things exist too, and it is toward virtue that the starting point is directed, and it is for the sake of virtue, rather, that the things bearing on it exist. [section 6] The end resembles a kind of starting point, and it is for the sake of this that each thing exists. But this holds only in a certain way. So it is clear that in the case of virtue too, since it is the best cause, it aims at the end rather than at the things toward the end.

36| [section 1] — And the end of virtue is the fine. It is at this, then, that [virtue] aims rather than at the things from which it will come about. And further, these latter belong to virtue as well. But on the whole this seems strange; for perhaps someone might be a skilled imitator in painting, yet he would not be praised for it unless he sets himself the aim of imitating the best things. It belongs to virtue absolutely, then, to set the fine as its aim. Why then, one might ask, did we earlier say that the activity is better than the corresponding state, yet now we do not attribute to virtue, as being the finer thing, that from which the activity springs, but rather that in which there is no activity? Yes — but even now we are saying this in the same way: that the activity is better than the state. For other people, in observing the good person, judge him by his acting, because it is not possible to display the choice that each person holds; since if it were possible to know each person's judgment — how he stands with respect to the fine — he would be thought good even apart from acting. [Since we have marked off certain means concerning the emotions, we ought now to say which emotions these are.]

37| [section 1] Since courage concerns confidence and fear, we should consider what sorts of fears and confidences it concerns. Is it, then, the case that if someone fears losing his substance, he is a coward, and if someone is confident about such things, he is brave? Or not? Likewise, if someone fears sickness, or is confident about it, we should not call the one who fears it a coward, nor the one who does not fear it brave. Courage, then, does not concern fears and confidences of this sort. [section 2] But neither does it concern things of this kind: if someone does not fear thunder or lightning, or anything else among the things that are terrifying beyond what a human being can bear, he is not brave but rather a kind of madman. The brave man, then, is concerned with fears and confidences that are on the human scale; I mean, in the things that most people fear, or that everyone fears, the one who is confident in the face of these is brave. [section 3] Now that these points have been distinguished, since men are called brave in many different senses, we should consider which sort is truly brave. For there is also a man who is brave through experience, such as soldiers. These know, through experience, that in such-and-such a place, or at such-and-such a time, or when things stand thus, nothing can happen to them. But the man who knows this, and who stands his ground against the enemy on account of it, is not brave; for if none of these conditions holds, he does not stand his ground.

38| [section 4] Hence those who are brave through experience should not be called brave. Nor was Socrates right in saying that courage is a kind of knowledge. For knowledge arises when experience, gained through habit, becomes knowledge; but we do not say — nor will people say — that those who stand their ground through experience are brave. Courage, then, would not be knowledge. [section 5] Again, there are men who are called brave for the opposite reason, from lack of experience: those who have no experience of what is about to happen feel no fear, because of their inexperience. But these too should not be called brave. [section 6] And again, there are others who seem to be brave on account of some emotion, such as men in love, or men in a state of frenzy. But these too should not be called brave; for if the emotion is taken away from them, they are no longer brave, and the brave man must always be brave. [section 7] Hence one would not call even wild animals brave — boars, for instance — because they fight back once they have been struck and are in pain; and the brave man must not be brave on account of [the] emotion. [section 8] Again, there is another kind of courage that seems to be political courage — for instance, when men stand their ground against dangers out of shame before their fellow citizens, and are thought to be brave for it. Here is a sign of this: Homer has represented Hector as saying, 'Polydamas will be the first to reproach me,' and it is on this account that he thinks he must fight. But this kind should not be called courage either; for the same distinction fits every one of these cases. For whenever, upon the removal of something, courage does not survive, courage cannot be present any longer; so if I take away the shame on account of which he was brave, he will no longer be brave.

39| [section 9] Further, in yet another way, there are men who seem to be brave because of hope and expectation of some good outcome. But these too should not be called brave, since it appears absurd to call men of this kind, and in such circumstances, brave. None of these, then, should be counted as brave; we must consider, then, what sort of man is [the] brave man, and who the brave man is. [section 10] To put it simply, the brave man is one who is brave for none of the reasons already mentioned, but because he considers the act itself to be fine, and does it whether anyone is present to see or not. Nor, indeed, does courage arise entirely without emotion and impulse. But the impulse must arise from reason, for the sake of the fine. The man, then, who is impelled by reason, for the sake of the fine, to face danger, and who feels no fear in doing so, is brave, and courage concerns such things. [section 11] But he is not fearless in the sense that it so happens to the brave man that he feels no fear at all. For the man for whom nothing whatsoever is frightening is not brave in this sense; on this reckoning a stone, and the other inanimate things, would be brave. Rather, he must feel fear, but stand his ground nonetheless; for if, on the other hand, he stands his ground without feeling fear, he would not be brave. [section 12]

40| Further, too, as we distinguished above, courage concerns not all fears and dangers, but those that threaten the destruction of substance. Further, again, it does not concern any chance moment or all time indiscriminately, but the time when fears and dangers are close at hand. For if someone does not fear a danger that is ten years off, he is not yet brave on that account; for some men are confident because the danger is far away, but when it comes near, they die of fright. [section 1] Courage, then, and the brave man, are of this sort. Temperance is a mean between self-indulgence and insensibility with respect to pleasures. For temperance, and indeed every virtue without exception, is the best state; and the best state is a state directed at what is best, and the best is the mean between excess and deficiency; for men are blameworthy on both counts, both for excess and for deficiency. So, since the mean is best, temperance would be a kind of mean between self-indulgence and insensibility. [section 2] It would, then, be a mean between these. Temperance concerns pleasures and pains, but not all of them, nor those connected with everything. For it is not the case that if someone enjoys looking at a painting, or a statue, or something else of this kind, he is therefore self-indulgent; nor likewise with respect to hearing or smell — but temperance concerns the pleasures of touch and taste.

41| [section 3] Nor, indeed, with respect to these pleasures will the man of temperance be one so disposed as to be affected by none of them whatsoever (such a man is insensible); rather, he is already the man who is affected by them but is not led by them, so that, even while enjoying them to excess, he treats everything else as secondary — and he is already the man who does this for the sake of the fine itself and for no other reason: this is the temperate man. (The text is corrupt at this point.) [section 4] For whoever abstains from the excess of such pleasures out of fear, or for some other such reason, is not temperate. Indeed, we do not call the other animals temperate, apart from man, because they do not possess reason, by which one tests and chooses the fine. For every virtue is concerned with the fine and directed toward the fine. So temperance would concern pleasures and pains, and specifically those that arise in touch and taste. [section 1] Next in order after this would be to speak about gentleness — [and] what it is and in what it consists. Gentleness, [indeed], is a mean between irascibility and lack of spirit. And in general the virtues seem to be a kind of mean. That they are means one might also show as follows: if the best lies in a mean, and virtue is the best state, [and the best is the mean,] then virtue would be the mean.

42| [section 2] This will become clearer if we examine it point by point. The irascible man is the one who is angry with everyone, in every way, and to excess; and such a man is blameworthy (for one ought not to be angry with everyone, nor on every occasion, nor in every way and always; but again, neither should one be so disposed as never to be angry with anyone at all — [section 3] for this man too is blameworthy, being one who feels no pain at all). Since, then, both the man who exceeds and the man who falls short are blameworthy, the man between these two would be gentle and praiseworthy. For neither the man who is deficient in anger nor the man who is excessive in it is praiseworthy, but the man who is moderate with respect to these things — this man is gentle. And gentleness would be a mean between these emotions. [section 1] Liberality is a mean between prodigality and stinginess. These states concern money: the prodigal man is the one who spends on what he should not, more than he should, and when he should not; the stingy man, by contrast, is the one who does not spend on what he should, as much as he should, and when he should. [section 2] Both of these are blameworthy. Of the two, one falls short, the other exceeds. The liberal man, then, since he is praiseworthy, would be a mean between them. Who, then, is he? He is the one who spends on what he should, as much as he should, and when he should.

43| [section 1] There are also several species of ungenerosity — we call some people misers, and skinflints, and shameful profiteers, and petty. All of these fall under ungenerosity. For the bad is many-formed, the good single-formed — just as health is simple, but disease many-formed. Likewise virtue is single-formed, but vice many-formed. For all these people are blameworthy about money. — Does the generous person, then, also acquire and provide money, or not? No, for this belongs to no other virtue either. For making weapons does not belong to courage, but to another craft, and it belongs to courage to use them rightly once they are in hand; likewise with temperance and the rest. So this does not belong to generosity either, but already to money-making. [section 1] Greatness of soul is a mean between vanity and smallness of soul, and it concerns honor and dishonor — and honor not the sort that comes from the many, but the sort that comes from serious people, and it concerns this more especially. For serious people, knowing and judging rightly, will honor rightly; so the great-souled person will want to be honored more by those who know in themselves that he is worthy of honor. Nor will he be concerned with every honor, but with the best honor, and with what is honorable as a good and holding the rank of a starting point.

44| [section 2] Now those who are easily despised and inferior, yet think themselves worthy of great things and think besides that they ought to be honored, are vain; and those who think themselves worthy of less than is fitting for them are small-souled. [section 3] The person in the middle between these, then, is the one who thinks himself worthy neither of less honor than is fitting, nor of more than he is worth, nor of every honor; and this is the great-souled person. So it is clear that greatness of soul is a mean between vanity and smallness of soul. [section 1] Magnificence is a mean between ostentation and stinginess. Magnificence concerns expenditures which it is fitting to make in a fitting way. Whoever spends where he ought not is ostentatious — for instance, if someone entertains a group who are contributing to a shared meal as though he were hosting a wedding feast, such a person is ostentatious (for the ostentatious person is one who displays his own means of wealth at the wrong occasion). [section 2] The stingy person is the opposite of this — one who, where he ought, will not spend on a great scale, or, if he does spend, on a wedding or a chorus-financing, spends not worthily but meanly; such a person is stingy. [section 3] Magnificence is evident even from its name as being the sort of thing we say it is; for since it spends greatly on the fitting occasion, the name magnificence is rightly given to it. Magnificence, then, since it is praiseworthy, would be a kind of mean between excess and deficiency with respect to fitting expenditures, in the matters where this is called for. There are also, as people think, several other things called magnificence — for instance they say someone walked magnificently, and other such expressions.

45| Such uses of "magnificence" are metaphors, and not strict; for magnificence does not lie in these things, but in what we have said. [section 1] Righteous indignation is a mean between envy and malicious pleasure; for both of these are blameworthy, while the person disposed to righteous indignation is praiseworthy. Righteous indignation concerns goods that happen to belong to someone unworthy of them — it is a kind of pain. The person prone to righteous indignation, then, is pained at such things. And this same person will again be pained if he sees someone faring badly who does not deserve it. So righteous indignation and the person prone to it are presumably of this sort, while the envious person is the opposite of this. For the envious person, without qualification, is pained whether someone deserves to fare well or not. Similarly the person who takes malicious pleasure will be pleased at someone faring badly, whether that person deserves it or not. But the person prone to righteous indignation is not [like this], but is a kind of mean between the two. [section 1] Dignity is a mean between arrogant self-will and obsequiousness, and concerns social encounters. For the self-willed person is the sort who will encounter no one and converse with no one (and the name seems to be given from his character — for the self-willed person is, so to speak, one who pleases himself alone, from the fact that he pleases only himself). [section 2]

46| The obsequious person is the sort who associates with everyone, in every way and on every occasion. Neither of these is praiseworthy, but the dignified person, being in the middle between them, is praiseworthy; for he is neither open to all nor open to none, but open toward those who deserve it, and closed toward these same people otherwise. [section 1] A sense of shame is a mean between shamelessness and being overawed, and concerns actions and speech. For the shameless person is the one who, in every matter and before everyone, says and does whatever comes to hand, while the overawed person is the opposite of this — one who is cautious about doing and saying anything at all [before] anyone at all (for such a person, being overawed at everything, is incapable of action). [section 2] A sense of shame and the person who has it are a kind of mean between these. For he will neither say and do everything without qualification, as the shameless person does, nor will he be cautious about everything in every way, as the overawed person is, but he will act and speak in the matters, on the occasions, and to the extent that he ought. [section 1] Wit is a mean between buffoonery and boorishness, and concerns [the] jests. For the buffoon is the one who thinks he ought to make a joke of everything and everyone, while the boor is the one who is willing neither to make a joke himself nor to be the butt of one, but grows angry.

47| [section 2] The witty person is in the middle between these, neither joking at everyone in every way, nor again being boorish [himself]. The witty person turns out to be spoken of in two ways: both the one who is able to jest gracefully, and the one who bears being the butt of a joke, is called witty; and wit is of this sort. [section 1] Friendliness is a mean between flattery and hostility, and concerns actions and speech. For the flatterer is the one who adds more than is fitting and more than exists, while the disagreeable person is hostile and even strips away what is actually there. Neither of these, then, is rightly praiseworthy, but the friend is in the middle between them; [section 2] for he will neither add more than what exists, nor praise what is not fitting, nor again make things less, nor will he oppose another's view in every case, contrary to what seems right to him. [section 1] The friend, then, is of this sort; and truthfulness is midway between self-deprecation and boastfulness. It concerns speech, though not all speech. For the boaster is the one who claims to have more than he has, or to know what he does not know, while the self-deprecator is the opposite of this, claiming to have less than he has, and, though he knows something, not asserting it but concealing his knowledge.

48| [section 2] The truthful person will do neither of these things. For he will claim neither more nor less than what he has, but will say that he has and knows just what he actually has and knows. Now whether these are virtues or not would be a separate discussion; but that they are means of the sort we have described is clear, for those who live in accordance with them are praised. [section 1] It remains to speak about justice — what it is, and among what sorts of things, and concerning what matters. First, then, let us grasp what the just is. The just is twofold: one kind of it is in accordance with law. [section 2] For people say that just things are what the law prescribes. And the law bids us do the courageous things and the temperate things, and in general all the things that are spoken of in accordance with the virtues. This is why, they say, justice seems to be a kind of complete virtue; for if the just things are what the law bids us do, and the law prescribes what accords with all the virtues, then the person who abides by the just things in accordance with law will be completely serious in virtue, so that the just person and justice are a kind of complete virtue. [section 3] There is, then, one sort of just thing found in and concerning these matters; but this is not the just thing, nor the justice concerning these matters, that we are looking for. For in accordance with these just things it is possible for a person to be just toward himself alone (for the temperate person, and the courageous person, and the person of self-mastery, and

49| is such a person in his own right); but justice toward another is a different thing from the justice that goes by law, as we have said. For among things just toward another, it is not possible for a thing to be just in its own right. This is the justice we are seeking, and the virtue of justice concerned with these matters. [section 4] The just, then, toward another is, to put it simply, the equal. For the unjust is the unequal; for whenever people assign to themselves the greater share of goods and the lesser share of evils, this is unequal, and in this way they think they are doing injustice and suffering injustice. [section 5] It is clear, then, since injustice lies in inequalities, that justice and the just lie in an equality of dealings. So it is clear that justice would be a kind of mean between excess and deficiency, between too much and too little. [section 6] For the unjust man has more by doing injustice, and the man who suffers injustice has less by suffering it; and the mean between these is the just. The mean is the equal; so that the just would be the equal between more and less, and the just man is the one who wishes to have the equal. [section 7] The equal occurs in the fewest terms in two; therefore to be equal toward another is the just, and a person of this kind would be just.

50| [section 8] Since, then, justice lies in the just, and in the equal, and in a mean, and since the just is said to be just [in] certain persons, and the equal is equal among certain persons, and the mean is a mean for certain persons, it follows that justice and the just will be both toward certain persons and among certain persons. [section 9] would be... (text breaks off) The proportional occurs in the fewest terms in four; for as A is to B, so C is to D. For example, it is proportionate for the man who possesses much to contribute much, and the man who possesses little to contribute little; and likewise again for the man who has labored much to receive much, and the man who has labored little to receive little. As the man who has labored stands to the man who has not labored, so the much stands to the little. And as the man who has labored stands to the much, so the man who has not labored stands to the little. [section 10] Plato too seems to make use of this proportion of the just in the Republic. For, he says, the farmer produces grain, the builder a house, the weaver a cloak, the shoemaker a shoe. The farmer, then, gives grain to the builder, and the builder gives a house to the farmer; and likewise all the others stand in such a relation that they exchange what is theirs for what belongs to the others.

51| [section 11] And this proportion is as follows: as the farmer stands to the builder, so the builder stands to the farmer; and likewise the same proportion holds toward one another for the shoemaker, the weaver, and all the rest. And it is this proportion that holds the constitution together. So the just appears to be the proportionate. For the just holds constitutions together, and the just is the same thing as the proportionate. [section 12] But since the builder makes his own product worth more than the shoemaker does, and yet it was necessary for the shoemaker [and] to exchange with the builder, while it was not possible to get a house in return for shoes, at this point people came to the idea — since all these things are purchasable — of using, for this purpose, what they called money, calling it currency, and by giving each thing's worth in it, of making their exchange with one another, and by this means holding the political community together. [section 13] Since, then, the just consists in these things and in what has been said before, the justice concerned with these matters would be the state that has an impulse joined with choice with regard to these things and among these things. And the reciprocal is also just — not, however, as the Pythagoreans said. For they thought it just that whatever a man did, he should suffer the same in return;

52| [section 14] but a thing of this sort does not hold toward everyone. For what is just between a slave and a free man is not the same as what is just between free men; for if a slave strikes a free man, it is not just for him to be struck back only once, but many times. And the reciprocal is just when it is in accordance with proportion. For as the free man stands to the slave in being superior, so the doing-back stands to the doing. And likewise it will hold for a free man in relation to a free man. For it is not just, if someone has knocked out another's eye, that only his eye be knocked out in return, but that he suffer more, following the proportion; for he was the one who began it and did the wrong first, and he does wrong on both counts, so that the wrongs too are proportionate, and it is just that he suffer more in return than he did. [section 15] Since the just is spoken of in many ways, we must distinguish about which kind of just our inquiry is concerned. There is, as people say, a certain justice between slave and master, and between son and father. But the justice in these relations would seem to be spoken of only by an equivocation with political justice (for the just that our inquiry concerns is political justice); [section 16] for this is most of all found in

53| equality (for citizens are in some sense partners, and wish to be alike by nature, though they differ in character); whereas between son and father, and between slave and master, there would seem to be no justice at all. For there is no justice of my foot or my hand toward me, nor likewise of any of my bodily parts; and in the same way the son would seem to stand toward the father, for the son is in a sense a part of the father — except that once he has taken the standing of a man and been separated from his father, then he is already in a relation of equality and likeness with his father; and it is people of this kind that citizens wish to be. [section 17] And in the same way there is no justice between slave and master, for the same reason; for the slave is something belonging to the master. But indeed, even if there is some justice for him, it is household justice toward him. This, however, is not what we are seeking, but political justice; for political justice seems to lie in equality and likeness. [section 18] But the justice in the partnership of woman and man is close to political justice; for the woman is inferior to the man, but more closely his own, and shares in equality somewhat more, because their life is close to a political community, so that the justice of a wife toward her husband is in some way already, more than the others, of a political kind.

54| [section 19] Since, then, the just is what exists in political community, justice and the just man will be concerned with political justice. Of just things, some are by nature, some by law. We must understand this not to mean that they could never change; for even things that exist by nature undergo change. [section 20] I mean, for example, that if we were all to practice throwing always with the left hand, we would become ambidextrous; but by nature the left hand is the left hand, and the right is by nature no less better than the left, even if we do everything with the left as with the right. Nor, because things change, are they for that reason not by nature; rather, if for the most part and for the greater length of time a thing remains so — the left remaining left and the right remaining right — this is by nature. [section 21] Likewise with things just by nature: if a thing changes on account of our usage, it is not for that reason not just by nature, but it is. For what remains so for the most part — this is plainly just by nature. For whatever we ourselves establish and legislate, this too is already just, and we call it just by law. What is by nature, then, is a better justice than what is by law. But what we are seeking is political justice. And the political is what is by law, not what is by nature.

55| [section 22] The unjust and the act of injustice might seem to be the same thing, but they are not. For the unjust is what is defined by law — for instance, defrauding a deposit is unjust — while the act of injustice is the actual doing of something unjustly. Similarly the just and the act of justice are not the same: the just is what is defined by law, while the act of justice is the doing of just things. [section 23] When, then, is an act just, and when not? To put it simply, when a man acts by choice and voluntarily (what voluntary is has been stated by us above), and when he acts knowing both whom he acts on and by what means and for what end, in that way he does a just act. In the same way and on the same terms the unjust man too will be one who knows both whom he acts on and by what means and for what end. But when someone does something unjust knowing none of these things, he is not unjust, but unfortunate. For if, thinking he was killing the enemy, he killed his father, he did something unjust, yet he wrongs no one — he is unfortunate. [section 24] Since, then, not wronging someone while doing unjust things consists in this ignorance — as was also said a little above, namely when a man does not know whom he harms nor by what means nor for what end — we must go further and distinguish the kind of ignorance, so as to see how, given that the ignorance occurs, the man he harms will not have been wronged. Let this, then, be the distinction.

56| [section 25] When ignorance is the cause of a man's doing something, he does it not voluntarily, so that he does not wrong anyone; but when he himself is the cause of the ignorance, and does something in accordance with an ignorance of which he himself is the cause, then he does wrong, and such a man will rightly be called unjust. Take the case of drunk men: those who, being drunk, do something bad, do wrong, for they are themselves the cause of their ignorance — it was in their power not to drink so much as to strike their father without knowing it. [section 26] Likewise [and] with the other kinds of ignorance: as many as come about through the agents themselves, those who do wrong in accordance with them are unjust; but those of which the agents are not themselves the cause, but the ignorance is the cause even for those who acted of their acting, are not unjust. Such ignorance is natural ignorance — for instance, small children strike their fathers in ignorance, but since the ignorance in their case is natural, it does not make the children be called unjust because of this act; for the ignorance is the cause of their doing this, but they are not themselves the cause of the ignorance, and so they are not called unjust either. [section 27] But now, what about being wronged? Is it possible to be wronged voluntarily, or not? We do just and unjust things voluntarily, but we are not wronged voluntarily; for we avoid being punished, so it is clear that we would not be wronged voluntarily. For no one voluntarily submits to being harmed, and being wronged is being harmed.

57| [section 28] Yes, but there are some who, though they ought to have an equal share, yield it up to others, so that if having the equal share was just, and having less is being wronged, and a man has less voluntarily, then, the argument says, he is voluntarily wronged. But from this very point it is again clear that he is not wronged voluntarily. For all who take less get something in exchange — honor, or praise, or reputation, or friendship, or something else of that kind; and one who gets something in exchange for what he gives up is not wronged; and if he is not wronged, then he is not wronged voluntarily either. [section 29] Again, those who take less and are supposedly wronged, who do not get an equal share — such people preen and pride themselves over it, saying "though it was open to me to take an equal share, I did not take it, but yielded it to my elder or to my friend." But no one prides himself on being wronged. If men do not pride themselves on the wrongs done to them, but do pride themselves on cases like this, then they are not wronged at all by having less in this way; and if they are not wronged, they would not be wronged voluntarily either. [section 30]

58| — But against these points, and against arguments like them, stands the argument drawn from the case of the person lacking self-control. For the person lacking self-control harms himself by doing base things, and he does these things voluntarily; so he harms himself knowingly, and thus he is voluntarily wronged by himself. But here [the] distinction added will block this argument. The distinction is this: no one wishes to be wronged. Now the person lacking self-control acts as he wishes in acting according to his lack of self-control, so that if he wrongs himself, he wishes to do base things to himself. But no one wishes to be wronged; so not even the person lacking self-control would voluntarily wrong himself. [section 31] But perhaps here again one might raise a difficulty: is it possible for a man to wrong himself at all? Looking at the case of the person lacking self-control, it does seem possible. And again, consider it this way. If the things the law prescribes doing are just, then one who does not do them does wrong; and if he does not do what the law bids toward the person it bids him act toward, he wrongs that person. Now the law bids a man be temperate, acquire property, take care of his body, and so on with the rest of such things; so one who does not do these things wrongs himself. For the reference of such wrongs is to no one else.

59| [section 32] — But perhaps these claims were not true after all, and it is not possible for a man to wrong himself. For it is not possible for the same person, at the same time, to have both more and less, nor to be at once both willing and unwilling; but the one who wrongs, insofar as he wrongs, has more, and the one who is wronged, insofar as he is wronged, has less. If, then, a man wrongs himself, it would be possible for the same person, at the same time, to have both more and less. But this is impossible; therefore it is not possible for a man to wrong himself. [section 33] — Again, the one who wrongs, wrongs voluntarily, while the one who is wronged is wronged involuntarily, so that if it were possible for a man to wrong himself, it would be possible for him to do the same thing at once both involuntarily and voluntarily; but this is impossible; so not on this ground either is it possible for a man to wrong himself. [section 34] — Again, suppose one took the matter from the particular kinds of wrongdoing. For all who do wrong either defraud a deposit, or commit adultery, or steal, or do some other of the particular kinds of wrongdoing; but no one has ever defrauded himself of a deposit, nor committed adultery with his own wife, nor stolen his own property from himself. So if wrongdoing consists in such acts, and none of these can be done against oneself, then it would not be possible to wrong oneself.

60| [section 35] — But if not, at least it is not the political kind of wrong, but the household kind. For the soul, being divided into several parts, has within itself one part worse and one better, so that if any wrong arises within the soul, it belongs to the parts in relation to one another; and we distinguished the household wrong by reference to the worse and the better part, so that a man becomes unjust and just toward himself in this sense. But this is not what we are examining, but rather the political kind. [section 36] So in wrongs of the sort we are inquiring into, it is not possible for a man to wrong himself. But then, which of two parties does wrong, and in which does the wrongdoing reside — in the one who unjustly has something, or in the one who judged and awarded it, as in athletic contests? For the man who receives the palm from the umpire — the one presiding and making the judgment — does no wrong, even if it is unjustly given to him; rather it is the one who judged badly and gave it who does wrong. And even he does wrong in one respect and not in another: insofar as he did not judge what was just in truth and in nature, in this respect he does wrong; but insofar as he judged according to what seemed just to him, in this respect he does no wrong.

61| [section 1] Now that we have spoken about the virtues — what they are, and in what part they reside, and with what sort of things each of them is concerned — that if our best conduct follows correct reasoning — putting it this way, that to do well is to follow correct reasoning — this resembles someone claiming that health is best maintained if one applies the healthful measures. Such a statement is unclear; someone will say to me, 'tell me clearly what the healthy things are.' [section 2] So too with reason: what is reason, and what is right reason? It is perhaps necessary first of all to give an account of that in which reason arises. [section 3] Now it was determined earlier, in outline, concerning the soul, that one part of it has reason and the other part of the soul is without reason; and the part of the soul that has reason admits a division into two, of which one is the deliberative part and the other the scientific part. That these are different from one another would become clear from what underlies them. [section 4] For just as color and flavor and sound and smell are different from one another, so too nature has assigned different perceptions to them (for we recognize sound by hearing, flavor by taste, and color by sight); and one must suppose the rest holds in the same way: since the underlying things are different, the parts of the soul by which we recognize them must also be different.

62| [section 5] Further, the intelligible and the perceptible are different from each other; and we recognize both of these by the soul; so the part concerned with perceptible things and the part concerned with intelligible things would be different. And the deliberative and choosing part is concerned with perceptible things that are in motion, and in general with whatever is subject to coming-to-be and passing-away. [section 6] For we deliberate about those things that are up to us either to do or not to do, once we have chosen; and it is about these that deliberation and choice, whether to act or not to act, are concerned. These things are perceptible and in motion, subject to change; so the choosing part of the soul is, in its account, concerned with perceptible things. [section 7] Now that these matters have been determined, we should next say — since our account concerns the truth and we are examining how the truth stands, and there is knowledge, practical wisdom, intellect, wisdom, and supposition — what each of these is concerned with. [section 8] Knowledge, then, is concerned with what is knowable, and this extends by way of demonstration and argument; practical wisdom is concerned with things that can be done, in which there is choice and avoidance, and it is up to us to do or not to do them. [section 9] Now among things made and things done, the productive and the practical are not the same. For in the case of productive things there is some end beyond the making itself — for example, beyond housebuilding, since it is the making of a house, the house is its end beyond the making; and likewise with carpentry and the other productive crafts.

63| [section 10] But in the case of practical things there is no end other than the action itself — for example, beyond playing the lyre there is no other end, but this very thing is the end, the actuality and the action. Practical wisdom, then, is concerned with action and with things that can be done, while craft is concerned with production and with things that can be made; for the exercise of craft belongs more to things made than to things done. [section 11] So practical wisdom would be a certain state concerned with choice and action regarding the things that are up to us to do or not to do, so far as these bear on what is advantageous. [section 12] Practical wisdom is a virtue, it would seem, not a form of knowledge. For men of practical wisdom are praiseworthy, and praise belongs to virtue; further, there is a virtue belonging to every kind of knowledge, but there is no virtue of practical wisdom — rather, as it seems, practical wisdom is itself a virtue. Intellect is concerned with the starting-points of intelligible things and of the things that are; for knowledge is concerned with things that exist by way of demonstration, but starting-points are not demonstrable, so knowledge could not be concerned with starting-points, but intellect is. [section 14]

64| Wisdom is composed of knowledge and intellect. For wisdom is concerned both with starting-points and with the things already demonstrated from starting-points, which is what knowledge is concerned with; so, insofar as it is concerned with starting-points, it partakes of intellect, and insofar as it is concerned with what comes after the starting-points and exists by way of demonstration, it partakes of knowledge; so it is clear that wisdom is composed of both intellect and knowledge, and that it would be concerned with the same things as both intellect and knowledge. [section 15] Supposition is that state in which, concerning all things, we hold both possibilities open — that they are so, and that they are not so. [section 16] Are practical wisdom and wisdom the same, or not? Wisdom is concerned with things that exist by demonstration and are always the same, whereas practical wisdom is not concerned with these but with things that are subject to change. I mean, for example, that straight or curved and concave and things of that sort are always such; but advantageous things are not so fixed as never to change into something else — rather, they do change: what is advantageous now is not advantageous tomorrow, and what is advantageous for one person is not for another, and it is advantageous in one situation and not advantageous in another. Practical wisdom 1197b is concerned with advantageous things, but wisdom is not. Wisdom and practical wisdom are therefore different.

65| [section 17] Is wisdom a virtue, or not? This would become clear from practical wisdom itself, that wisdom is a virtue. For if practical wisdom is a virtue, as we say, of the one of the two parts that have reason, and practical wisdom is inferior to wisdom (for it is concerned with lesser things: wisdom is concerned with the eternal and the divine, as we say, while practical wisdom is concerned with what is advantageous to a human being) — then if the lesser of the two is a virtue, it is reasonable that the better one is a virtue as well; so it is clear that wisdom is a virtue. [section 18] And so is practical wisdom, concerning things that can be done. For a person of good judgment is so called from being able to deliberate and to judge and see something correctly; but his judgment concerns small things and is exercised in small matters. Good judgment, then, and the person of good judgment, are some part of practical wisdom and of the person of practical wisdom, and do not exist apart from these; for you could not separate the person of good judgment from the person of practical wisdom. [section 19] For cleverness and the clever person are neither practical wisdom nor a person of practical wisdom, yet the person of practical wisdom is clever; hence cleverness in some way cooperates with practical wisdom.

66| [section 20] But even a base person is called clever — for example, Mentor was thought to be clever, but he was not a person of practical wisdom. For it belongs to the person of practical wisdom and to practical wisdom to aim at the best things and always to choose and act on these, whereas it belongs to cleverness and the clever person to consider from what means each of the things to be done might come about, and to procure these means. The clever person, then, would seem to be concerned with such things, and with these matters. [section 21] One might raise a puzzle and wonder why, in speaking about character and about a treatise on political matters, we are speaking about wisdom. The answer is that, first of all, an inquiry into wisdom would perhaps not seem foreign to our purpose, if indeed it is a virtue, as we say. Further, it perhaps belongs to the philosopher also to examine, in passing, whatever things happen to fall under the same subject. [section 22] And it is necessary, too, since we are speaking about the things in the soul, to speak about all of them; and wisdom is also in the soul; so we are not speaking about the soul in a way that is foreign to our purpose. [section 23] And just as cleverness stands to practical wisdom, so it would seem to stand in relation to all the virtues as well. I mean, for instance, that there are also virtues arising by nature in each person — certain impulses in each, without reason, toward brave and just actions, and correspondingly toward the actions proper to each virtue.

67| [section 24] There are also virtues that come about by habituation and by choice. Those virtues that exist together with reason in their complete form are praiseworthy. Natural virtue, then, is this: the virtue that, separated from reason, is a small thing and falls short of being praiseworthy, but when added to reason and choice makes virtue complete. Hence it works together with reason, and the natural impulse toward virtue does not exist apart from reason. [section 25] Nor again does reason and choice come to be virtue in its complete form without the natural impulse. This is why Socrates spoke incorrectly when he said that virtue is reason; for he said it is of no use to do the acts of a courageous or a just man unless one knows and chooses them by reason. So he said virtue is reason — incorrectly; but people today speak better, for they say that virtue is doing what is fine in accordance with right reason. [section 26] Yet even they are not correct. For someone might do just acts with no choice at all, and with no knowledge of what is fine, but from some irrational impulse, and still do them correctly and in accordance with right reason (I mean, he acted as right reason would direct); but all the same, an action of this kind has nothing praiseworthy about it. Rather it is better, as we define it, that the impulse toward the fine be together with reason; for it is this that is both virtue and praiseworthy.

68| [section 27] One might raise the question whether practical wisdom is a virtue or not. But from the following it should become clear that it is a virtue. For if justice and courage and the other virtues are praiseworthy because they are productive of fine actions, then it is clear that practical wisdom too would be one of the praiseworthy things and one of the things ranked among the virtues. For the things toward which courage impels one to act are the same things toward which practical wisdom impels; for in general, whatever this directs, courage acts accordingly, so that if courage is praiseworthy for doing what practical wisdom directs, then practical wisdom itself would be, in the fullest sense, both praiseworthy and a virtue. [section 28] Whether practical wisdom is a productive craft or not, one might see from the following, looking to the sciences — for example, to house-building. For in house-building, as we say, there is one person called a master-builder, and another who serves under him, the builder; and this latter is a producer of a house. But the master-builder too, insofar as he makes the house, is a producer of a house. And it is the same with the other productive crafts, in which there is a master-craftsman and one who serves under him. So the master-craftsman too will be a producer of something, and of that same thing of which the one who serves under him is also a producer.

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