DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY DURHAM, N. C. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2016 https://archive.org/details/classicalmoralis01rand Pit uWm -V' V' '•';t ' ■' ..■‘^^ '■• ft;- . ^ ^ ' «1 ; ' .'• < *V»-. ’ 7- mi' !'.;?hS'- 'j 4 -I" , r ■'^ • ' 3 * , ■rijfi'^'iiji ii;^.^s-''’5>r' ,'. .(5t ■»■ ,ika»»«6»' .T ■'• ' ' ...vr,: . W..J — • L.,*r-g^. .1 .'■/ P'. r '• tiai- « • • . j — m— . . 7 T '5 V ■■' ■j'.;::'-'v- 1 ^. '■■ t-.V ''‘’'■' r - ■ " i'ir,! ™,M*4 ,;K:-^,.,:4:, ■ i'v 4 ' ■ ■ -.< 'M {. 'i'f-'/y''''.: "y ■<:.. :i,. ^ootis bp iSenjamin ISanU ECONOMIC HISTORY SINCE I 763 . Cambridge, 1889; 5th ed., New York, 1911. SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY OF ECONOMICS. Cam- bridge, 1895. LIFE, UNPUBLISHED LETTERS AND PHILO- SOPHICAL REGIMEN OF THE THIRD EARL OF SHAFTESBURY. London, 1900. BIBLIOGRAPHY OF PHILOSOPHY. Two vols. New York, 1905. MODERN CLASSICAL PHILOSOPHERS Boston, 1907. THE CLASSICAL MORALISTS. Boston, 1909 THE CLASSICAL PSYCHOLOGISTS. Boston, 1912. THE CLASSICAL MORALISTS THE CLASSICAL MORALISTS SELECTIONS ILLUSTRATING ETHICS FROM SOCRATES TO MARTINEAU COMPILED BY BENJAMIN ^AND, Ph. D. HARVARD UNIVERSITY 1 6^77 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON • NEW YORK • CHICAGO • DALLAS • SAN FRANCISCO ®ije iRibersilic Cambtibge COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY BENJAMIN RAND ALL RIGHTS RESERVED CAMBRIDGE • MASSACHUSETTS PRINTED IN THE U.S.A. PREFACE “The Classical Moralists” is a companion volume in the field of ethics, to the author’s “Modem Classical Philosophers” in the domain of philosophy. The book is virtually a history of ethics, based not upon the ordinary description of systems, but upon selections from the original sources and upon translations of the authors themselves. It is sought, so far as is practicable, to pre- sent by means of the case method the most distinctive and con- structive features in the ethical systems of the successive moral- ■ ists. The evolution of ethical thought is thereby revealed, stripped of its controversial material, from Socrates to Martineau. Such a work, it is hoped, will prove indispensable as a text-book of required reading, alike for the historical and for the systematic study of ethics in the universities. The general reader, and more especially any one, whether among the clergy or the laity, desir- ous of acquiring knowledge of the different ethical systems, will find here a volume containing the original material of the great ethical masters, from the earliest to the most recent times. Since Socrates may justly be regarded as the founder of ethics, this work begins with selections from Xenophon’s “ Memorabilia of Socrates,” which centre about his doctrine of true knowledge as the source of right conduct and the application of the Socratic method to the identification of wisdom and virtue. The book then sets forth the lofty idealism of Plato. For this purpose is chosen his greatest work, “ The Republic,” since the virtues of the state and of the individual are regarded as identical. In Plato’s subordination of the non-rational impulses to reason there is revealed the triple division of the soul, upon which he bases his four kinds of excellence, later styled the cardinal virtues; i, wis- dom; 2, courage; 3, temperance; and 4, justice. His beautiful allegory of the cave is also added, as used to teach the true dia- lectical process and the value of philosophy. The passages from 131677 VI PREFACE the “ Nicomachean Ethics” of Aristotle present the end of human action as the good, pleasure as the natural concomitant of vir- tuous activity, and virtue as a settled habit formed by a due observance of the mean in a course of conduct. The post- Aris- totelian ethics of the Stoics and Epicureans is based upon the account contained in Diogenes Laertius’ “Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers.” The chosen representatives are Zeno, the follower of Antisthenes the Cynic, and Epicurus, the follower cf Aristippus the Cyrenaic. The former reverts to the original Socratic identification of virtue and knowledge, and also seeks the highest good in a life conformable to nature; the latter places the root of pleasure in a freedom of the body from pain and the soul from disquietude, but likewise clearly points out that the supreme object of life can be attained only through an intellectual happiness that is identical with virtue. The transfer of Hellenic philosophy to Rome finds illustration from the Epicurean Lucre- tius, author of the didactic poem on “The Nature of Things,” in the t\A o passages where he treats of the “ tranquillity of the philosopher,” and of “ the fear of death dispelled.” It was in Stoicism, however, that the Roman mind reacted most fully on Greek speculation, and to it abundant expression is given by “ Discourses ” of Epictetus and “ Meditations ” of Marcus Aurelius. The first development of Neo-Platonism in syste- matic form is contained in the “Enneades” of Plotinus, from which extracts here show how in pure intellectual existence the soul escapes from the evils due to its bodily environment, and how it reaches its most exalted state, when in pure contemplation it apprehends the “One” or the “Good.” In the mediaeval period it is difficult to present ethics apart from the great body of theological doctrines, except by means of a collection of isolated passages. Chapters from Augustine’s “City of God,” Peter Abelard’s “Ethics, or Know Thyself,” and Thomas Aquinas’ “Summa Theologiae” have, however, been chosen, as it is believed that these works embody the most sustained and representative ethical speculation in medi- aeval thought. The starting-point of modern ethics is to be found in the PREFACE VII discussion relative to the laws of nature taken from the epoch- making work of Hugo Grotius upon “The Rights of War and Peace.” From Hobbes’ “Leviathan” are taken those chapters wherein the rules of society which men ought to observe are established upon the dictates of right reason, proceeding ne- cessarily from the nature of man. Cudworth, the most dis- tinguished of the English Platonists, sets forth through his “Eternal and Immutable Morality” the essential and eternal dis- tinctions of right and wrong. More, in his “Enchiridion Ethi- cum,” lays down certain noemata into which he believes all moral doctrine may be resolved; and Cumberland, in his “Laws of Na- ture,” becomes the precursor of modem utilitarianism by his one general proposition of benevolence or universal love. In the his- tory of continental morals, from Spinoza’s “ Ethics” are given the doctrines of his one eternal substance, his three kinds of cognition, and his intellectual love of God. And from Malebranche’s “Trea- tise of Morality ” is taken his theory that virtue consists in submis- sion to an immutable and necessary order. Locke, the founder of English empiricism, in his celebrated “Essay on the Human Understanding, ” refutes here the existence of innate practical principles, and interprets good and evil as pleasure and pain, but nevertheless regards a divine law as “the true touchstone of rectitude.” Samuel Clarke’s “Discourse on Natural Religion,” in the sections reproduced, places ethics among the sciences capable of demonstration from propositions which are as in- contestable as those of mathematics. In the “Inquiry concern- ing Virtue and Merit” the eloquent Shaftesbury insists on the naturalness of man’s social affections, and defines virtue as “a conformity of our affections with our natural sense of the sublime and beautiful in things.” A brief section from Mande- ville’s “ Fable of the Bees” is included, since it stimulated deeper inquiries on the part of those who opposed his theory, that moral virtue is alien to the natural man. Wollaston, a disciple of Clarke, in the “ Religion of Nature Delineated,” bases the distinction of good and evil on the respect which men’s actions bear to truth. The “Three Sermons” of Bishop Butler printed in this work clearly reveal a fundamental difference between the two great PREFACE viii ethical periods, the Greco-Roman and the English. In the former the one regulative principle of reason of the “ wise ” man is opposed to the uncultivated impulses of the unwise ; in the latter period “ conscience,” or the reflective self-estimate, is opposed to all unreflective tendencies, whether good or bad. Hutcheson’s “Inquiry Concerning Moral Good and Evil” is perhaps best known for the doctrine reproduced in the present text that moral distinctions are made known by a special capa- city of the soul designated as the “ moral sense.” Hartley’s “ Ob- servations on Man,” as stimulated by Gay, makes the first sys- tematic application of the laws of association to the explanation of moral phenomena, and is thus the source of modern ethical psychology. In Hume’s “Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals,” and Adam Smith’s “Theory of Moral Sentiments,” alike, sympathy is regarded as the sufficient basis of moral appro- bation, without recourse to a “moral sense,” and the trend of later utilitarianism is thereby in no small degree anticipated. Brief chapters from Helvetius’ “De I’Esprit” and Paley’s “ Moral and Political Philosophy ” foreshadow Benthamism in the identification of probity or virtue with action productive of happiness. From Bentham’s “Morals and Legislation” are printed fine fundamental principles of the first really com- plete and thoroughgoing system of utilitarianism. Price, in his “Review of the Principal Questions in Morals,” maintains the existence of other ultimate moral principles, in addition to the utilitarian principle of general benevolence; and Reid, in his “Active Powers of Man,” appeals to common sense as the final arbiter of moral evidence. In German ethics, Kant’s exposition of the sublime moral law, or categorical imperative, has been taken from “The Metaphysic of Morals,” more particularly because the “Modern Classical Philosophers” already con- tains his “Critique of Practical Reason.” Fichte’s deduction of the principle of morality is reproduced from his “Science of Ethics ” ; and Hegel’s conception of the universal will as object- ively presented in the state is reproduced from his “ Philosophy of Right.” Pessimism finds expression in the glowing utterances from Schopenhauer’s “World as Will and Idea.” The trans- PREFACE IX lation from Beneke’s “Natural System of Morals” offers a psychological basis for ethics, in his distinctions of worth sub- sisting among psychical functions. Classical extracts illustrating Mill’s utilitarianism, Spencer’s ethics of evolution, and Sidg- wick’s philosophical intuitionism or universalistic hedonism, clearly reveal the development of later utilitarianism. Similarly, vital chapters setting forth Bradley’s self-realization. Green’s development of the moral ideal, and Martineau’s idiopsycholo- gical ethics present in a cumulative way the most fundamental principles of the recent ethics of intuitionism. The foregoing sketch traces the attempt made in this work to give for the first time in a single volume, selections which may serve to exhibit nearly in chronological order the chief doctrines of the classical moralists, alike in ancient, mediaeval, and modem ethics. Numerous texts will be found in the work, that are dis- persed in books either difficult of access or belonging to expen- sive sets. Translations of the ancient classics and of the con- tinental moralists have, so far as is possible, been obtained from writers who have won recognition for accuracy and literary merit. In this book appear also for the first time translations from the Latin, in part, of Abelard’s “Ethics, or Know Thyself” and of More’s “Enchiridion Ethicum,” for which the author is much indebted to the courtesy of his colleague. Professor Edward Kennard Rand, of the classical department in Harvard Uni- versity. An important chapter from the German of Beneke’s “Natural System of Morals” has been translated by the editor, w'ith the desire to secure more serious study of a moralist who de- serves much greater recognition than he has heretofore received. His thanks for permission to reprint selections of moralists are also due various publishers and translators, wLose names will be found at the beginning of the respective chapters accompany- ing the titles of the works employed. The book will serve its highest end if its representative selections shall inspire the peru- sal of the complete works of the classical moralists. Benjamin Rand. Emerson Hall, Harvard University. CONTENTS ANCIENT ER PAGE SOCRATES (469-399 B. c.) From XENOPHON’S MEMORABILIA OF SOCRATES 1-19 Translated jrom the Greek by John Selby Watson. Book III. Chap. VIII. The Good and Beautiful . i Book III. Chap. IX. On Virtues and Vices . . 3 Book IV. Chap. II. On Self-Knowledge ... 7 Book IV. Chap. VI. The Socratic Method . . 15 PLATO (427-347) THE REPUBLIC 20-52 Translated jrom the Greek by Benjamin Jowett. Book I. The Function of the Soul 20 Book IV. The Cardinal Virtues 23 Book VI. The Idea of the Good 37 Book VII. The Allegory of the Cave .... 45 ARISTOTLE (384-324) THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 53-91 Translated from the Greek by F. H. Peters Book I. The Good or the End 53 Book II. Moral Virtue 65 Book III. The Will 79 Book VI. The Intellectual Virtues 84 ZENO (356-264) From DIOGENES LAERTIUS’ LIVES AND OPIN- IONS OF EMINENT PHILOSOPHERS .... 92-109 Translated jrom the Greek by Charles D. Yonge. Book VII. The Ethics of the Stoics 92 EPICURUS (341-270) From DIOGENES LAERTIUS’ LIVES AND OPIN- IONS OF EMINENT PHILOSOPHERS .... 110-121 Translated jrom the Greek by Charles D. Yonge. Book X. The Epicurean Ethics no CONTENTS xii VI. TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS (95-51) ON THE NATURE OF THINGS 122-131 Translated from the Latin by H. A. J. Munro. Book II. The Tranquillity of the Philosopher 122 Book III. The Fear of Death Dispelled . . . 124 VII. EPICTETUS (60 A. D.-?) THE DISCOURSES OF EPICTETUS 132-143 Translated from the Greek by Thomas Wentworth Higginson. Book I. Chap. I. Of the Things which are, and THE Things which are not, in our own Power 132 Book I. Chap. XXVI. What the Rule of Life is 134 Book II. Chap. VIII. The Essence of Good. . 136 Book II. Chap. XI. The Beginning of Philosophy 139 Book III. Chap. III. The Chief Concern of a Good Man 141 VIII. MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS (121-180) MEDITATIONS 144-160 Translated from the Greek by George Long. Book II. The Ordering of Human Life .... 144 Book X. Life Conformable to Nature .... 150 IX. PLOTINUS (205-270) ENNEADES 161-175 Translated from the Greek by Thomas Taylor. I. On the Virtues 161 XV. On the Good, or the One 167 MEDIAEVAL X. SAINT AUGUSTINE (354-430) THE CITY OF GOD 176-185 Translated from the Latin by Marcus Bods. Book XII. Chap. V. Every Created Nature Good 176 Book XII. Chap. VI. The Origin of Evil. . . 176 Book XII. Chap. VII. Evil a Negation ... 178 Book XIV. Chap. VI. The Character of the Human Will i 79 Book XIX. Chap. IV. The Christian Idea of THE Supreme Good and Evil 180 CONTENTS xHi XI. PETER ABELARD (1079-1142) ETHICS, OR KNOW THYSELF 186-191 Translated from the Latin hy Edward Kennard Rand. Prologue 186 Chap. I. On Vice of the Mind 186 Chap. II. The Difference between Sin and the Vice that conduces to Evil 187 Chap. III. What is properly called Sin . . . 188 Chap. X. A Multitude of Goods not Better than ONE Good 189 Chap. XI. That Good Intention makes the Act Good 190 Chap. XII. For what Cause Intention may be CALLED Good 190 XII. THOMAS AQUINAS (1225-1274) SUMMA THEOLOGIAE 192-205 Translated jrom the Latin hy Joseph Rickaby. Question LV. Of Virtues in their Essence . . 192 Question LVII. Of the Various Intellectual Virtues 192 Question LVIII. Of the Distinction of Moral Virtues from Intellectual 196 Question LXI. Of the Cardinal Virtues . . . 200 Question LXII. Of the Theological Virtues . 202 Question LXIII. Of the Cause of Virtues . . 204 MODERN XIII. HUGO GROTIUS (1583-1645) THE RIGHTS OF WAR AND PEACE 206-212 Translated jrom the Latin hy Archibald Colin Campbell. Book I. Chap. I. What Right is 206 XIV. THOMAS HOBBES (1588-1679) LEVIATHAN 213-228 Part I. Of Man Chap. VI. Of Voluntary Motions; commonly CALLED Passions 213 Chap. XIII. Of the Natural Condition of Man- kind 217 Chap. XIV. Of the First and Second Natural Laws 221 Chap. XV. Of other Laws of Nature .... 223 XIV CONTENTS XV. RALPH CUDWORTH (1617-1688) A TREATISE CONCERNING ETERNAL AND IM- MUTABLE MORALITY 229-240 Book I. Chap. II. Eternity of Good and Evil . . 229 Book I. Chap. III. Immutability of Good and Evil 235 XVI. HENRY MORE (1614-1687) ENCHIRIDION ETHICUM . . . .* 241-246 Translated jrom the Latin by Edward Kennard Rand. Chap. I. What Ethics is 241 Chap. II. On the Divisions of Ethics .... 241 Chap. III. On Virtue and Right Reason . . . 242 Chap. IV. Noemata 242 XVII. RICHARD CUMBERLAND (1631-1718) A TREATISE OF THE LAWS OF NATURE . . 247-256 Translated jrom the Latin by John Maxwell. Chap. I. Of the Nature of Things 247 XVIII. BARUCH DE SPINOZA (1632-1677) THE ETHICS 257-285 Translated jrom the Latin by R. H. M. Elwes. Part I. Concerning God (Prop. I. -VIII., XVI.- XVIII., XXIX., XXXII.-XXXVI.) 257 Part II. Of the Nature and Origin of the Mind (Prop. I.-IIL, XXXII.-XXXVI., XLI.-XLIL, XLIV.-XLV., XLVIII.-XLIX.) 268 Part V. Of the Power of the Understanding, OR OF Human Freedom (Prop. I. -III., XXV.- XXXVIII., XL.-XLII.) 277 XIX. NICOLAS MALEBRANCHE (1638-1715) A TREATISE OF MORALITY 286-293 Translated jrom the French by James Shipton. Chap. I. The Immutable Order 286 XX. JOHN LOCKE (1632-1704) AN ESSAY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDER- STANDING 294-309 Book I. Chap. III. No Innate Practical Principles 294 Book II. Chap. XX. Of Modes of Pleasure and Pain 298 Book II. Chap. XXI. Of Power 299 Book II. Chap. XXVIII. Of other Relations . 305 CONTENTS XV XXL SAMUEL CLARKE (1675-1729) DISCOURSE UPON NATURAL RELIGION . . . 310-320 XXII. THIRD EARL OF SHAFTESBURY (1671- 1713) AN INQUIRY CONCERNING VIRTUE OR MERIT 321-346 Book I. Part II. Sect. III. What Virtue or Merit is 321 Book II. Part I. Sect. I. The Obligation to Virtue 325 Book II. Part I. Sect. III. The Affections or Passions 328 Book II. Part II. Sect. I. The Natural Affec- tions 331 Book II. Part II. Sect. II. The Self-Affections 337 Book II. Part II. Sect. III. The Unnatural Af- fections 341 Conclusion 344 XXIII. BERNARD DE MANDEVILLE (1670-1733) AN ENQUIRY INTO THE ORIGIN OF MORAL VIRTUE 347-354 XXIV. WILLIAM WOLLASTON (1660-1724) THE RELIGION OF NATURE DELINEATED . . 355-368 Section I. Of Moral Good and Evil 355 Section II. Of Happiness 364 XXV. JOSEPH BUTLER (1692-1752) SERMONS UPON HUMAN NATURE 369-393 Preface 360 Sermon I. Upon the Social Nature of Man . . 360 Sermons II., III. Upon the Natural Supremacy of Conscience 378 XXVI. FRANCIS HUTCHESON (1694-1747) AN INQUIRY CONCERNING MORAL GOOD AND EVIL 394-417 Section I. Of the Moral Sense by which we per- ceive Virtue and Vice 394 Section II. Concerning the Immediate Motive to Virtuous Actions 400 Section III. The Sense of Virtue reducible to one General Found.ation 410 XVI CONTENTS XXVII. DAVID HARTLEY (1705-1757) OBSERVATIONS ON MAN, HIS FRAME, HIS DUTY, AND HIS EXPECTATIONS 418-426 Part I. Introduction 418 Part I. Chap. I. Section II. The Formation of Complex Ideas by Association 419 Part I. Chap. IV. Section VI. The Pleasures AND Pains of the Moral Sense 421 XXVTII. DAVID HUME (1711-1776) AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS 427-442 Section I. Of the General Principles of Morals. 427 Section II. Of Benevolence 428 Section III. Of Justice 433 Section IX. Personal Merit 438 XXIX. ADAM SMITH (1723-1790) THE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS . . . 443-470 Part I. Of the Propriety of Action Section I. Chap. I. Of Sympathy 443 Section I. Chap. IV. Of Judgment of Propriety OR Impropriety of the Affections 447 Part II. Or Merit and Demerit Section I. Chap. I. Of Reward and Punishment 450 Section I. Chap. II. Of the Proper Objects of Gratitude and Resentment 452 Section I. Chap. IV. Recapitulation 454 Part III. Of the Foundation of our Judgments con- cerning OUR OWN Sentiments and Conduct Chap. I. Of Self-Approbation and of Self-Disap- probation 455 Chap. IV. Of the Nature of Self-Deceit . . . 459 Part IV. Of the Effect of Utility upon the Senti- ment OF Approbation Chap. II. Of the Beauty which the Appearance OF Utility bestows upon the Characters and Actions of Men 463 XXX. CLAUDE ADRIEN HELV^TIUS (1715- 1771) DE L’ESPRIT, OR, ESSAYS ON THE MIND . . 471-478 Translated from the French by William Mudford. Essay II. Probity Chap. II. Of Probity in Relation to the Individual 471 Chap. XI. Of Probity in Relation to the Public 474 Chap. XIII. Of Probity in Relation to Various Ages and Nations 475 CONTENTS xvli XXXI. WILLIAM PALEY (1743-1805) THE PRINCIPLES OF MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY 479-482 XXXII. JEREMY BENTHAM (1748-1832) AN INTRODUCTION TO THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS AND LEGISLATION 483-508 Chap. I. Of the Principle of Utility .... 483 Chap. II. Of Principles Adverse to that of Utility 488 Chap. III. The Sanctions of Pain and Pleasure 494 Chap. IV. The Measurement of Value of Plea- sure OR Pain 496 Chap. X. Motives 499 Chap. XL Of Human Dispositions in General . 507 XXXIII. RICHARD PRICE (1723-1791) A REVIEW OF THE PRINCIPAL QUESTIONS IN MORALS 509-523 Chap. I. Of the Origin of our Ideas of Moral Right and Wrong 509 Chap. II. Of our Ideas of the Beauty and Deform- ity OF Actions 519 XXXIV. THOMAS REID (1710-1796) ESSAYS ON THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN . . 524-538 Essay III. Chap. VI. Of the Sense of Duty . . 524 Essay V. Chap. I. Of the First Principles of Morals 530 XXXV. IMMANUEL KANT (1724-1804) THE METAPHYSIC OF MORALITY 5,39-564 Selections translated jrom the German by John Watson. Section I. Transition from Ordinary Moral Con- ceptions TO THE Philosophical Conception of Morality 539 Section II. Transition from Popular Moral Phi- losophy TO THE Metaphysic of Morality . . 544 Section III. Transition from the Metaphysic OF Morality to the Critique of Practical Reason 558 xviii CONTENTS XXXVL JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE (1762- 1814) THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 565-585 Translated from the German by A. E. Kroeger. Book I. Deduction of the Principle of Morality 565 XXXVII. GEORG WILHELM FRIEDRICH HEGEL (1770-1831) PHILOSOPHY OF RIGHT 586-610 Translated from the German by S. W. Dyde. Introduction 586 Division of the Work 594 First Part. Abstract Right 595 Second Part. Morality 599 Third Part. The Ethical System 605 XXXVIII. ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER (1788-1860) THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 611-625 Translated from the German by R. B. Haldane andJ. Kemp. Book IV. The Assertion and Denial of the Will 61 i XXXIX. FRIEDRICH EDUARD BENEKE (1798- 1854) THE NATURAL SYSTEM OF MORALS .... 626-646 Translated from the German by Benjamin Rand. Chap. III. The Fundamental Norms of Morals . 626 XL. JOHN STUART MILL (1806-1873) UTILITARIANISM 647-676 Chap. II. What Utilitarianism is 647 Chap. III. Of the Ultimate Sanction of the Prin- ciple OF Utility 660 Chap. IV. Of what Sort of Proof the Principle of Utility is Susceptible 669 XLI. HERBERT SPENCER (1820-1903) THE PRINCIPLES OF ETHICS 677-702 Part I. The Data of Ethics Chap. II. The Evolution of Conduct .... 677 Chap. XV. Absolute Ethics and Relative Ethics 687 CONTENTS XIX XLII. HENRY SIDGWICK (1838-1900) THE METHODS OF ETHICS 703-719 Book III. Chap. XIV. Ultimate Good .... 703 XLIII. FRANCIS HERBERT BRADLEY (1846 ) ETHICAL STUDIES 720-739 Essay II. Why Should I be Moral? 720 XLIV. THOMAS HILL GREEN (1836-1882) PROLEGOMENA TO ETHICS 740-759 Book III. The Moral Ideal and Moral Progress Chap. II. Characteristics of the Moral Ideal . 740 XLV. JAMES MARTINEAU (1805-1900) TYPES OF ETHICAL THEORY 760-790 Part II. Book I. Idiopsychological Ethics Chap. I. Fundamental Ethical Fact 760 Chap. IV. Nature of Moral Authority .... 773 Chaps. V.-VI. Springs of Action Classified . . 780 INDEX 791 THE CLASSICAL MORALISTS SOCRATES (469-399 B.C.) From XENOPHON’S MEMORABILIA OF SOCRATES Translated from the Greek * by JOHN SELBY WATSON BOOK III. CHAPTER VIII. ON THE GOOD AND BEAUTIEUL 1. When Aristippus attempted to confute Socrates, as he him- self had previously been confuted by him, Socrates, wishing to benefit those who were with him, gave his answers, not like those who are on their guard lest their words be perverted, but like those who are persuaded that they ought above all things to do what is right. 2. What Aristippus had asked him, was, “ whether he knew anything good,” in order that if he should say any such thing as food, or drink, or money, or health, or strength, or courage, he might prove that it was sometimes an evil. But Socrates, reflecting that if anything troubles us, we want some- thing to relieve us from it, replied, as it seemed best to do, “Do you ask me whether I know anything good for a fever?” 3. “I do not.” “Anything good for soreness of the eyes?” “No.” “For hunger?” “No, nor for hunger either.” “Well then,” concluded Socrates, “if you ask me whether I know anything good that is good for nothing, I neither know any- thing, nor wish to know.” * From a fvoipwiiros ^wKpdrovs 'Airo/jivrip.ovevixaTa. Reprinted from Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates, translated by J. S. Watson, London, 1859. 2 SOCRATES 4. Aristippus again asking him if he knew anything beauti- ful, he replied, “Many things.” “Are they then,” inquired Aris- tippus, “all like each other?” “Some of them,” answered Soc- rates, “are as unlike one another as it is possible for them to be.” “How then,” said he, “can what is beautiful be unlike what is beautiful?” “Because, assuredly,” replied Socrates, “one man, who is beautifully formed for wrestling, is unlike another who is beautifully formed for running; and a shield, which is beautifully formed for defence, is as unlike as possible to a dart, which is beautifully formed for being forcibly and swiftly hurled.” 5. “You answer me,” said Aristippus, “in the same manner as when I asked you whether you knew anything good.” “And do you imagine,” said Socrates, “that the good is one thing, and the beautiful another? Do you not know that with reference to the same objects all things are both beautiful and good? Virtue, for instance, is not good with regard to some things and beautiful with regard to others; and persons, in the same way, are called beautiful and good with reference to the same objects; and human bodies, too, with reference to the same objects, appear beautiful and good; and in like manner all other things, what- ever men use, are considered beautiful and good with reference to the objects for which they are serviceable.” 6. “Can a dung- basket, then,” said Aristippus, “ be a beautiful thing ? ” “Yes, by Jupiter,” returned Socrates, “and a golden shield may be an ugly thing, if the one be beautifully formed for its particular uses, and the other ill formed ? ” 7. “ Do you say, then, that the same things may be both beautiful and ugly?” “Yes, undoubtedly, and also that they may be good and bad ; for oftentimes what is good for hunger is bad for a fever, and what is good for a fever is bad for hunger; oftentimes what is beautiful in regard to running is the reverse in regard to wrestling, and what is beautiful in regard to wrestling is the reverse in regard to running; for whatever is good is also beautiful, in regard to purposes for which it is well adapted, and whatever is bad is the reverse of beautiful, in re- gard to purposes for which it is ill adapted.” 8. When Socrates said, too, that the same houses that were beautiful were also useful, he appeared to me to instruct us what XENOPHON’S MEMORABILIA 3 sort of houses we ought to build. He reasoned on the subject thus, “Should not he who purposes to have a house such as it ought to be, contrive that it may be most pleasant, and at the same time most useful, to live in ? ” 9. This being admitted, he said, “Is it not then pleasant to have it cool in summer, and warm in winter?” When his hearers had assented to this, he said, “In houses, then, that look to the south, does not the sun, in the win- ter, shine into the porticoes, while, in the summer, it passes over our heads, and above the roof, and casts a shade? If it is well, therefore, that houses should thus be made, ought we not to build the parts towards the south higher, that the sun in winter may not be shut out, and the parts toward the north lower, that the cold winds may not fall violently on them? 10. To sum up the matter briefly, that would be the most pleasant and the most beautiful residence, in which the owner, at all seasons, would find the most satisfactory retreat, and deposit what belongs to him with the greatest safety.” Paintings, and coloured decorations of the walls, deprive us, he thought, of more pleasure than they give. The most suitable ground for temples and altars, he said, was such as was most open to view, and least trodden by the public ; for that it was pleasant for people to pray as they looked on them, and pleasant to approach them in purity. CHAPTER IX. ON VIRTUES AND VICES I. Being asked, again, whether Fortitude was a quality acquired by education, or bestowed by nature, “I think,” said he, “that as one body is by nature stronger for enduring toil than another body, so one mind may be by nature more courageous in meeting dangers than another mind ; for I see that men who are brought up under the same laws and institutions differ greatly from each other in courage. 2. I am of opinion, however, that every natu- ral disposition may be improved, as to fortitude, by training and exercise; for it is evident that the Scythians and Thracians would not dare to take bucklers and spears and fight with the Lace- 4 SOCRATES daemonians; and it is certain that the Lacedaemonians would not like to fight the Thracians with small shields and javelins, or the Scythians with bows. 3. In other things, also, I see that men differ equally from one another by nature, and make great im- provements by practice; from which it is evident that it concerns all, as well the naturally ingenious as the naturally dull, to learn and study those arts in which they desire to become worthy of commendation.” 4. Prudence and Temperance he did not distinguish; for he deemed that he who knew what was honourable and good, and how to practise it, and who knew what was dishonourable, and how to avoid it, was both prudent and temperate. Being also asked whether he thought that those who knew what they ought to do, but did the contrary, were prudent and temperate, he replied, “No more than I think the [openly] imprudent and intemperate to be so; for I consider that all [prudent and tem- perate] persons choose from what is possible what they judge for their interest, and do it; and I therefore deem those who do not act [thus] judiciously to be neither prudent nor temperate.” 5. He said, too, that justice, and every other virtue, was [a part of] prudence, for that everything just, and everything done agreeably to virtue, was honourable and good; that those who could discern those things, would never prefer anything else to them ; that those who could not discern them, would never be able to do them, but would even go wrong if they attempted to do them ; and that the prudent, accordingly, did what was honour- able and good, but that the imprudent could not do it, but went wrong even if they attempted to do it; and that since, therefore, all just actions, and all actions that are honourable and good, are done in agreement with virtue, it is manifest that justice, and every other virtue, is [comprehended in] prudence. 6. The opposite to prudence, he said, was Madness; he did not, however, regard ignorance as madness; though for a man to be ignorant of himself, and to fancy and believe that he knew what he did not know, he considered to be something closely bordering on madness. The multitude, he observed, do not say that those are mad who make mistakes in matters of which most XENOPHON’S MEMORABILIA 5 people are ignorant, but call those only mad who make mistakes in affairs with which most people are acquainted ; 7. for if a man should think himself so tall as to stoop when going through the gates in the city wall, or so strong as to try to lift up houses, or attempt anything else that is plainly impossible to all men, they say that he is mad; but those who make mistakes in small mat- ters are not thought by the multitude to be mad ; but just as they call “strong desire” “love,” so they call “great disorder of in- tellect” “madness.” 8. Considering what Envy was, he decided it to be a certain uneasiness, not such as arises, however, at the ill success of friends, nor such as is felt at the good success of enemies, but those only he said were envious who were annoyed at the good success of their friends. When some expressed surprise, that any one who had a friendly feeling for another should feel uneasy at his good fortune, he reminded them that many are so disposed towards others as to be incapable of neglecting them if they are unfortunate, but would relieve them in ill fortune, though they are uneasy at their good fortune. This feeling, he said, could never arise in the breast of a sensible man, but that the foolish were constantly affected with it. 9. Considering what Idleness was, he said that he found most men did something; for that dice-players and buffoons did some- thing; but he said that all such persons were idle, for it was in their power to go and do something better; he observed that a man was not idle, however, in passing from a better employment to a worse, but that, if he did so, he, as he [previously] had occu- pation, acted in that respect viciously. 10. Kings and Commanders, he said, were not those who held sceptres merely, or those elected by the multitude, or those who gained authority by lot, or those who attained it by violence or de- ceit, but those who knew how to command, ii. For when some one admitted that it was the part of a commander to enjoin what another should do, and the part of him who was commanded, to obey, he showed that in a ship the skilful man is the commander, and that the owner and all the other people in the ship were obedient to the man of knowledge; that, in agriculture, those 6 SOCRATES who had farms, in sickness, those who were ill, in bodily exercises, those who practised them, and indeed all other people, who had any business requiring care, personally took the management of it if they thought that they understood it, but if not, that they were not only ready to obey men of knowledge who were pre- sent, but even sent for such as were absent, in order that, by yielding to their directions, they might do what was proper. In spinning, too, he pointed out that women commanded men, as the one knew how to spin, and the other did not know. 12. But if any one remarked in reply to these observations, that a tyrant is at liberty not to obey judicious advisers, he would say, “And how is he at liberty not to obey, when a penalty hangs over him that does not obey a wise monitor ? for in whatever affair a per- son does not obey a prudent adviser, he will doubtless err, and, by erring, will incur a penalty.” 13. If any one also observed that a tyrant might put to death a wise counsellor, “And do you think,” he would say, “that he who puts to death the best of his allies will go unpunished, or that he will be exposed only to cas- ual punishment ? Whether do you suppose that a man who acts thus would live in safety, or would be likely, rather, by such con- duct, to bring immediate destruction on himself?” 14. When some one asked him what object of study he thought best for a man, he replied, “good conduct.” When he asked him again whether he thought “good fortune” an object of study, he answered, “‘Fortune’ and ‘Conduct’ I think entirely op- posed ; for, for a person to light on anything that he wants with- out seeking it, I consider to be ‘good fortune,’ but to achieve any- thing successfully by learning and study, I regard as ‘ good con- duct;’ and those who make this their object of study appear to me to do well.” 15. The best men, and those most beloved by the gods, he observed, were those who, in agriculture, performed their agri- cultural duties well, those who, in medicine, performed their medical duties well, and those who, in political offices, performed their public duties well; but he who did nothing well, he said, was neither useful for any purpose, nor acceptable to the gods. XENOPHON’S MEMORABILIA 7 BOOK IV. CHAPTER II. ON SELF-KNOWLEDGE I. I will now show how Socrates addressed himself to such as thought that they had attained the highest degree of knowledge, and prided themselves on their ability. Hearing that Euthyde- mus, surnamed the Handsome, had collected many writings of the most celebrated poets and sophists, and imagined that by that means he was outstripping his contemporaries in accom- plishments, and had great hopes that he would excel them all in talent for speaking and acting, and finding, by his first inquiries about him, that he had not yet engaged in public affairs on ac- count of his youth, but that, when he wished to do any business, he usually sat in a bridle-maker’s shop near the Forum, he went himself to it, accompanied by some of his hearers; 2. and as somebody asked, first of all, “whether it was from his intercourse with some of the wise men, or from his own natural talents, that Themistocles attained such a pre-eminence above his fellow- citizens, that the republic looked to him whenever it wanted the service of a man of ability,” Socrates, wishing to excite the atten- tion of Euthydemus, said that “it was absurd to believe that men could not become skilled in the lowest mechanical arts without competent instructors, and to imagine that ability to govern a state, the most important of all arts, might spring up in men by the unassisted efforts of nature.” 8. Socrates used at first to make such remarks, while Euthy- demus merely listened; but when he observed that he stayed, while he conversed, with more willingness, and hearkened to him with more attention, he at last came to the bridle-maker’s shop unattended. As Euthydemus sat down beside him, he said, “Tell me, Euthydemus, have you really, as I hear, collected many of the writings of men who are said to have been wise?” “I have indeed, Socrates,” replied he, “and I am still collect- ing, intending to persevere till I get as many as I possibly can.” 9. “By Juno,” rejoined Socrates, “I feel admiration for you, because you have not preferred acquiring treasures of silver and gold rather than of wisdom; for it is plain you consider that sil- 8 SOCRATES ver and gold are unable to make men better, but that the thoughts of wise men enrich their possessors with virtue.” Euthydemus was delighted to hear this commendation, believing that he was thought by Socrates to have sought wisdom in the right course, lo. Socrates, observing that he was gratified with the praise, said, “And in what particular art do you wish to become skil- ful, that you collect these writings ? ” As Euthydemus continued silent, considering what reply he should make, Socrates again asked, “ Do you wish to become a physician ? for there are many writings of physicians.” “Not I, by Jupiter,” replied Euthy- demus. “Do you wish to become an architect, then? for a man of knowledge is needed for that art also.” “No, indeed,” an- swered he. “Do you wish to become a good geometrician, like Theodorus?” “Nor a geometrician either,” said he. “Do you wish then to become an astronomer?” said Socrates. As Eu- thydemus said “No,” to this, “Do you wish then,” added Socra- tes, “to become a rhapsodist, for they say that you are in pos- session of all the poems of Homer ? ” “ No indeed,” said he, “ for I know that the rhapsodists, though eminently knowing in the poems of Homer, are, as men, extremely foolish.” ii. “You are perhaps desirous then,” proceeded Socrates, “of attaining that talent by which men become skilled in governing states, in man- aging households, able to command, and qualified to benefit other men as well as themselves.” “I indeed greatly desire,” said he, “Socrates, to acquire that talent.” “By Jupiter,” re- turned Socrates, “you aspire to a most honourable accomplish- ment, and a most exalted art, for it is the art of kings, and is called the royal art. But,” added he, “have you ever considered whether it is possible for a man who is not just to be eminent in that art?” “I have certainly,” replied he; “and it i^ not possible for a man to be even a good citizen without justice.” 12. “Have you yourself, then, made yourself master of that virtue?” “I think,” said he, “ Socrates, that I shall be found not less just than any other man.” “Are there then works of just men, as there are works of artisans?” “There are, doubtless,” replied he. “Then,” said Socrates, “as artisans are able to show their works, would not just men be able also to tell their works?” “And why XENOPHON’S MEMORABILIA 9 should not I,” asked Euthydemus, “be able to tell the works of justice; as also indeed those of injustice; for we may see and hear of no small number of them every day?” 13. “Are you willing then,” said Socrates, “that we should make a delta on this side, and an alpha on that, and then that we should put whatever seems to us to be a work of justice under the delta, and whatever seems to be a work of injustice under the alpha?” “If you think that we need those letters,” said Euthy- demus, “make them.” 14. Socrates, having made the letters as he proposed, asked, “Does falsehood then exist among man- kind?” “It does assuredly,” replied he. “Under which head shall we place it?” “Under injustice, certainly.” “Does deceit also exist?” “Unquestionably.” “Under which head shall we place that?” “Evidently under injustice.” “Does mischievous- ness exist?” “Undoubtedly.” “And the enslaving of men?” “That, too, prevails.” “And shall neither of these things be placed by us under justice, Euthydemus ?” “ It would be strange if they should be,” said he. 15. “But,” said Socrates, “if a man, being chosen to lead an army, should reduce to slavery an un- just and hostile people, should we say that he committed injus- tice?” “No, certainly,” replied he. “ Should we not rather say that he acted justly?” “Indisputably.” “And if, in the course of the war with them, he should practise deceit?” “That also would be just,” said he. “And if he should steal and carry off their property, would he not do what was just?” “Certainly,” said Euthydemus; “but I thought at first that you asked these questions only with reference to our friends.” “-Then,” said Socrates, “all that we have placed under the head of injustice, we must also place under that of justice?” “It seems so,” replied Euthydemus. 16. “Do you agree, then,” continued Socrates, “that, having so placed them, we should make a new distinction, that it is just to do such things with regard to enemies, but un- just to do them with regard to friends, and that towards his friends our general should be as guileless as possible?” “By all means,” replied Euthydemus. 17. “Well, then,” said Socrates, “if a general, seeing his army dispirited, should tell them, invent- ing a falsehood, that auxiliaries were coming, and should, by that 10 SOCRATES invention, check the despondency of his troops, under which head should we place such an act of deceit?” “It appears to me,” said Euthydemus, “that we must place it under justice.” “And if a father, when his son requires medicine, and refuses to take it, should deceive him, and give him the medicine as ordi- nary food, and, by adopting such deception, should restore him to health, under which head must we place such an act of de- ceit?” “It appears to me that we must put it imder the same head.” “And if a person, when his friend was in despondency, should, through fear that he might kill himself, steal or take away his sword, or any other weapon, under which head must we place that act ? ” “ That, assuredly, we must place under justice.” i8. “You say, then,” said Socrates, “that not even towards our friends must we act on all occasions without deceit?” “We must not indeed,” said he, “for I retract what I said before, if I maj be permitted to do so.” “ It is indeed much better that you should be permitted,” said Socrates, “than that you should not place actions on the right side. 19. But of those who deceive their friends in order to injure them (that we may not leave even this point unconsidered), which of the two is the more unjust, he who does so intentionally or he who does so involuntarily?” “In- deed, Socrates,” said Euthydemus, “I no longer put confidence in the answers which I give; for all that I said before appears to me now to be quite different from what I then thought; however, let me venture to say that he who deceives intentionally is more unjust than he who deceives involuntarily.” 20. “ Does it appear to you, then, that there is a way of learn- ing and knowing what is just, as there is of learning and know- ing how to read and write?” “I think there is.” “And which should you consider the better scholar, him who should pur- posely write or read incorrectly, or him who should do so un- awares?” “Him who should do so purposely, for, whenever he pleased, he would be able to do both correctly.” “He, there- fore, that purposely writes incorrectly may be a good scholar, but he who does so involuntarily is destitute of scholarship?” “How can it be otherwise?” “And whether does he who lies and deceives intentionally know what is just, or he who does so XENOPHON’S MEMORABILIA II unawares?” “Doubtless he who does so intentionally.” “You therefore say that he who knows how to write and read is a bet- ter scholar than he who does not know?” “Yes.” “And that he who knows what is just is more just than he who does not know?” “I seem to say so; but I appear to myself to say this I know not how.” 21. “But what would you think of the man, who, wishing to tell the truth, should never give the same account of the same thing, but, in speaking of the same road, should say at one time that it led towards the east, and at another towards the west, and, in stating the result of the same calculation, should sometimes assert it to be greater and sometimes less, what, I say, would you think of such a man?” “It would be quite clear that he knew nothing of what he thought he knew.” 22. “Do you know any persons called slave-like?” “I do.’^ “Whether for their knowledge or their ignorance?” “For their ignorance, certainly.” “Is it then for their ignorance of working in brass that they receive this appellation ? ” “Not at all.” “Is h for their ignorance of the art of building?” “Nor for that.” ■‘Or for their ignorance of shoemaking?” “Not on any one of these accounts ; for the contrary is the case, as most of those who know such trades are servile.” “Is this, then, an appellation of those who are ignorant of what is honourable, and good, and just?” “It appears so to me.” 23. “ It therefore becomes us to exert ourselves in every way to avoid being like slaves.” “But, by the gods, Socrates,” rejoined Euthydemus, “I firmly believed that I was pursuing that course of study, by which I should, as I expected, be made fully acquainted with all that was proper to be known by a man striving after honour and virtue; but now, how dispirited must you think I feel, when I see that, with all my previous labour, I am not even able to answer a question about what I ought most of all to know, and am acquainted with no other course which I may pursue to become better!” 24. Socrates then said, “Tell me, Euthydemus, have you ever gone to Delphi?” “Yes, twice,” replied he. “And did you ob- serve what is written somewhere on the temple wall. Know thy- self?” “I did.” “And did you take no thought of that inscrip- tion, or did you attend to it, and try to examine yourself, to ascer- 12 SOCRATES tain what sort of character you are?” “I did not indeed try, for I thought that I knew very well already, since I should hardly know anything else if I did not know myself.” 25. “But whether does he seem to you to know himself, who knows his own name merely, or he who (like people buying horses, who do not think that they know the horse that they want to know, until they have ascertained whether he is tractable or unruly, whether he is strong or weak, swift or slow, and how he is as to other points which are serviceable or disadvantageous in the use of a horse, so he), having ascertained with regard to himself how he is adapted for the service of mankind, knows his own abilities?” “It appears to me, I must confess, that he who does not know his own abili- ties, does not know himself.” 26. “But is it not evident,” said Socrates, “that men enjoy a great number of blessings in conse- quence of knowing themselves, and incur a great number of evils, through being deceived in themselves? For they who know them- selves know what is suitable for them, and distinguish between what they can do and what they cannot ; and, by doing what they know how to do, procure for themselves what they need, and are prosperous, and, by abstaining from what they dp not know, live blamelessly, and avoid being unfortunate. By this know- ledge of themselves, too, they can form an opinion of other men, and, by their experience of the rest of mankind, obtain for them- selves what is good, and guard against what is evil. 27. But they who do not know themselves, but are deceived in their own powers, are in similar case with regard to other men, and other human affairs, and neither understand what they require, nor what they are doing, nor the characters of those with whom they connect themselves, but, being in error as to all these particulars, they fail to obtain what is good, and fall into evil. 28. They, on the other hand, who understand what they take in hand, succeed in what they attempt, and become esteemed and honoured ; those who resemble them in character willingly form connexions with them; those who are unsuccessful in life desire to be assisted with their advice, and to prefer them to themselves ; they place in them their hopes of good, and love them, on all these accounts, beyond all other men. 29. But those, again, who do not know what they XENOPHON’S MEMORABILIA 13 are doing, who make an unhappy choice in life, and are unsuc- cessful in what they attempt, not only incur losses and sufferings in their own affairs, but become, in consequence, disreputable and ridiculous, and drag out their lives in contempt and dishon- our. Among states, too, you see that such as, from ignorance or their own strength, go to war with others that are more power- ful, are, some of them, utterly overthrown, and others reduced from freedom to slavery.” 30. “Be assured, therefore,” replied Euthydemus, “that I feel convinced we must consider self-knowledge of the highest value; but as to the way in which we must begin to seek self- knowledge, I look to you for information, if you will kindly im- part it to me.” 31. “Well, then,” said Socrates, “you doubtless fully understand what sort of things are good, and what sort are evil.” “Yes, by Jupiter,” replied Euthydemus, “for if I did not understand such things, I should be in a worse condition than slaves are.” “Come then,” said Socrates, “tell me what they are.” “That is not difficult,” said he, “for, in the first place, health I consider to be a good, and sickness an evil, and, in the next, looking to the causes of each of them, as drink, food, and employments, I esteem such as conduce to health to be good, and such as lead to sickness to be evil.” 32. “Consequently,” said Socrates, “health and sickness themselves, when they are the causes of any good, will be good, and when they are the causes of any evil, will be evil.” “But when,” exclaimed Euthydemus, “can health be the cause of evil, and sickness of good ? ” “When, for example,” said Socrates, “some portion of a community, from being in good health, take part in a disgraceful expedition by land, or a ruinous voyage by sea, or in any other such matters, which are sufficiently common, and lose their lives, while others, who are left behind from ill-health, are saved.” “What you say is true,” said Euthydemus, “but you see that some men share in successful enterprises from being in health, while others, from being in sickness, are left out of them.” “Whether then,” said Socrates, “are those things which are sometimes beneficial, and sometimes injurious, goods, rather, or evils?” “Nothing, by Jupiter, is to be settled with regard to them by considering thus. 14 SOCRATES 33. But as to wisdom, Socrates, it is indisputably a good thing; for what business will not one who is wise conduct better than one who is untaught?” “Have you not heard, then, of Daeda- lus,” said Socrates, “how he was made prisoner by Minos and compelled to serve him as a slave; how he was cut off, at once, from his country and from liberty, and how, when he endeavoured to escape with his son, he lost the child, and was unable to save himself, but was carried away among barbarians, and made a second time a slave?” “Such a story is told, indeed,” said Eu- thydemus. “Have you not heard, too, of the sufferings of Pala- medes ? for everybody says that it was for his wisdom he was en- vied and put to death by Ulysses.” “That, too, is said,” replied Euthydemus. “And how many other men do you think have been carried off to the king on account of their wisdom, and made slaves there?” 34. “But as to happiness, Socrates,” said Euthydemus, “that at least appears to be an indisputable good,” “Yes, Euthyde- mus,” replied Socrates, “if we make it consist in things that are themselves indisputably good.” “But what,” said he, “among things constituting happiness can be a doubtful good?” “No- thing,” answered Socrates, “unless we join with it beauty, or strength, or wealth, or glory, or any other such thing.” 35. “But we must assuredly join them with it,” said Euthydemus; “for how can a person be happy without them ? ” “ We shall then join with it, by Jupiter,” said Socrates, “things from which many- grievous calamities happen to mankind; for many, on account of their beauty, are ruined by those who are maddened with pas- sion for their youthful attractions; many, through confidence in- their strength, have entered upon undertakings too great for it, and involved themselves in no small disasters; many, in conse- quence of their wealth, have become enervated, been plotted against, and destroyed; and many, from the glory and power that they have acquired in their country, have suffered the great- est calamities.” 36. “Well, then,” said Euthydemus, “if I do not say what is right when I praise happiness, I confess that I do not know what we ought to pray for to the gods.” XENOPHON’S MEMORABILIA 15 CHAPTER FI. THE SOCRATIC METHOD I, I will now endeavour to show that Socrates rendered those who associated with him more skilful in argument. For he thought that those who knew the nature of things severally, would be able to explain them to others; but as to those who did not know, he said that it was not surprising that they fell into error themselves, and led others into it. He therefore never ceased to reason with his associates about the nature of things. To go through .all the terms that he defined, and to show how he defined them, would be a long task; but I will give as many instances as I think will suffice to show the nature of his reasoning. 2 . In the first place, then, he reasoned of piety, in some such way as this. “Tell me,” said he, “ Euthydemus, what sort of feel- ing do you consider piety to be?” “The most noble of all feel- ings,” replied he. “Can you tell me, then, who is a pious man?” “The man, I think, who honours the gods.” “Is it allowable to pay honour to the gods in any way that one pleases?” “No; there are certain laws in conformity with which we must pay our honours to them.” 3. “He, then, who knows these laws, will know how he must honour the gods ? ” “I think so.” “ He there- fore who knows how to pay honour to the gods, will not think that he ought to pay it otherwise than as he knows?” “Doubt- less not.” “But does any one pay honours to the gods otherwise than as he thinks that he ought to pay them?” “I think not.” 4. “He therefore who knows what is agreeable to the laws with regard to the gods, will honour the gods in agreement with the laws ? ” “ Certainly.” “ Does not he, then, who honours the gods agreeably to the laws honour them as he ought?” “How can he do otherwise?” “And he who honours them as he ought, is pious?” “Certainly.” “ He therefore who knows what is agree- able to the laws with regard to the gods, may be justly defined by us as a pious man?” “ So it appears to me,” said Euthydemus. 5. “But is it allowable for a person to conduct himself to- wards other men in whatever way he pleases?” “No; but with respect to men also, he who knows what is in conformity with i6 SOCRATES the laws, and how men ought, according to them, to conduct themselves towards each other, will be an observer of the laws.” “Do not those, then, who conduct themselves towards each other according to what is in conformity with the laws, conduct them- selves towards each other as they ought?” “How can it be other- wise?” “Do not those, therefore, who conduct themselves to- wards each other as they ought, conduct themselves well ? ” “Certainly.” “Do not those, then, that conduct themselves well towards each other, act properly in transactions between man and man?” “Surely.” “ Do not those, then, who obey the laws, do what is just?” “Undoubtedly.” 6. “ And do you know what sort of actions are called just?” “Those which the laws sanc- tion.” “Those, therefore, who do what the laws sanction, do what is just, and what they ought?” “How can it be otherwise?” “Those who do just things, therefore, are just?” “I think so.” “Do you think that any persons yield obedience to the laws who do not know what the laws sanction?” “I do not.” “And do you think that any who know what they ought to do, think that they ought not to do it?” “I do not think so.” “And do you know any persons that do other things than those which they think they ought to do?” “I do not.” “Those, therefore, who know what is agreeable to the laws in regard to men, do what is just?” “Certainly.” “And are not those who do what is just, just men?” “ Who else can be so ? ” “ Shall we not define rightly, therefore,” concluded Socrates, “ if we define those to be just who know what is agreeable to the laws in regard to men?” “It appears so to me,” said Euthydemus. 7. “And what shall we say that wisdom is? Tell me, whether do men seem to you to be wise, in things which they know, or in things which they do not know?” “In what they know, cer- tainly; for how can a man be wise in things of which he knows nothing?” “Those, then, who are wise, are wise by their know- ledge?” “By what else can a man be wise, if not by his know- ledge?” “Do you think wisdom, then, to be anything else than that by which men are wise ? ” “ I do not.” “Is knowledge, then, wisdom ? ” “It appears so to me.” “ Does it appear to you, how- ever, that it is possible for a man to know all things that are?” XENOPHON’S MEMORABILIA 17 “No, by Jupiter; not even, as I think, a comparatively small portion of them.” “It is not therefore possible for a man to be wise in all things?” “No, indeed.” “ Every man is wise, there- fore, in that only of which he has a knowledge?” “So it seems to me.” 8. “Shall we thus, too, Euthydemus,” said he, “inquire what is GOOD?” “How?” said Euthydemus. “Does the same thing appear to you to be beneficial to everybody?” “No.” “And does not that which is beneficial to one person appear to you to be sometimes hurtful to another?” “Assuredly.” “Would you say, then, that anything is good that is not beneficial ? ” “I would not.” “What is beneficial, therefore, is good, to whomsoever it is beneficial?” “It appears so to me,” said Euthydemus. g. “And can we define the beautiful in any other way than if you term whatever is beautiful, whether a person, or a vase, or anything else whatsoever, beautiful for whatever purpose you know that it is beautiful?” “No, indeed,” said Euthydemus. “For whatever purpose, then, anything maybe useful, for that purpose it is beautiful to use it?” “Certainly.” “And is any- thing beautiful for any other purpose than that for which it is beautiful to use it?” “For no other purpose,” replied he. “What is useful is beautiful, therefore, for that purpose for which is it beautiful?” “So I think,” said he. 10. “As to COURAGE, Euthydemus,” said Socrates, “do you think it is to be numbered among excellent things?” “I think it one of the most excellent,” replied Euthydemus. “But you do not think courage a thing of use for small occasions.” “No, by Jupiter, but for the very greatest.” “ Does it appear to you to be useful, with regard to formidable and dangerous things, to be ignorant of their character ? ” “ By no means.” “ They, there- fore, who do not fear such things, because they do not know what they are, are not courageous?” “Certainly not; for, in that case, many madmen and even cowards would be courageous.” “And what do you say of those who fear things that are not formid- able ? ” “ Still less, by Jupiter, should they be called courageous.” “Those, then, that are good, with reference to formidable and dangerous things, you consider to be courageous, and those that i8 SOCRATES are had, cowardly?” “Certainly.” ii. “But do you think that any other persons are good, with reference to terrible and dan- gerous circumstances, except those who are able to conduct them- selves well under them ? ” “ No, those only,” said he. “And you think those bad with regard to them, who are of such a charac- ter as to conduct themselves badly under them?” “Whom else can I think so?” “ Do not each, then, conduct themselves under them as they think they ought?” “How can it be otherwise?” “Do those, therefore, who do not conduct themselves properly under them, know how they ought to conduct themselves under them?” “Doubtless not.” “Those then who know how they ought to conduct themselves under them, can do so?” “And they alone.” “Do those, therefore, who do not fail under such circumstances, conduct themselves badly under them?” “I think not.” “Those, then, who do conduct themselves badly under them, do fail?” “It seems so.” “Those, therefore, who know how to conduct themselves well in terrible and dangerous cir- cumstances are courageous, and those who fail to do so are cowards?” “They at least appear so to me,” said Euthydemus. 12. Monarchy and tyranny he considered to be both forms of government, but conceived that they differed greatly from one another; for a government over men with their own consent, and in conformity with the laws of free states, he regarded as a monarchy; but a government over men against their will, and not according to the laws of free states, but just as the ruler pleased, a tyranny; and wherever magistrates were appointed from among those who complied with the injunctions of the laws, he considered the government to be an aristocracy; wherever they were appointed according to their wealth, a plutocracy ; and wherever they were appointed from among the whole people, a democracy. 13. Whenever any person contradicted him on any point, who had nothing definite to say, and who perhaps asserted, without proof, that some person, whom he mentioned, was wiser, or bet- ter skilled in political affairs, or possessed of greater courage, or worthier in some such respect [than some other whom Soc- rates had mentioned], he would recall the whole argument, in XENOPHON’S MEMORABILIA 19 some such way as the following, to the primary proposition: 14. “ Do you say that he whom you commend, is a better citizen than he whom I commend?” “I do say so.” “Why should we not then consider, in the first place, what is the duty of a good citizen ? “Let us do so.” “Would not he then be superior in the management of the public money who should make the state richer?” “Undoubtedly.” “ And he in war who should make it victorious over its enemies?” “Assuredly.” “And in an em- bassy he who should make friends of foes?” “Doubtless.” “And he in addressing the people who should check dissension and inspire them with unanimity?” “I think so.” When the discussion was thus brought back to fundamental principles, the truth was made evident to those who had opposed him. 15. When he himself went through any subject in argument, he proceeded upon propositions of which the truth was gener- ally acknowledged, thinking that a sure foundation was thus formed for his reasoning. Accordingly, whenever he spoke, he, of all men that I have known, most readily prevailed on his hearers to assent to his arguments ; and he used to say that Ho- mer had attributed to Ulysses the character of a sure orator, as being able to form his reasoning on points acknowledged by all mankind. PLATO (427-347) THE REPUBLIC Translated from the Greek * by BENJAMIN JOWETT BOOK L THE FUNCTION OF THE SOUL Socrates Thrasymachus Ste/>A. JJ2. Well then, proceed with your answers, and let me have the remainder of my repast. For we have already shown that the just are clearly wiser and better and abler than the unjust, and that the unjust are incapable of common action; nay more, that to speak as we did of evil-doers ever acting vigorously to- gether, is not strictly true, for if they had been perfectly evil, they would have laid hands upon one another; but it is evident that there must have been some remnant of justice in them, which enabled them to combine; if there had not been they would have injured one another as well as their victims; they were but half-villains in their enterprises, for had they been whole villains, and utterly unjust, they would have been wholly in- capable of action. That, as I believe, is the truth of the matter, and not what you said at first. But whether the just have a better and happier life than the unjust is a further question which we also proposed to consider. I think that they have, and for t*he reasons which I have given; but still I should like to ex- amine further, for no light matter is at stake, nothing less than the rule of human life. Proceed. I will proceed by asking a question : Would you not say that a horse has some end? * From nAdrwvos noAtreio. Reprinted from The Dialogues of Plato, translated by B. Jowett, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1871 ; 3d rev. ed. 1892, vol. iii. THE REPUBLIC 21 I should. And the end or use of a horse or of anything would be that which could not be accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing? I do not understand, he said. Let me explain : Can you see, except with the eye ? Certainly not. Or hear, except with the ear? No. These then may be truly said to be the ends of these organs ? They may. But you can cut off a vine-branch with a carving-knife or with a chisel and in many other ways? Of course. And yet not so well as with a pruning-hook made for the purpose ? True. May we not say that this is the end of a pruning-hook ? We may. Then now I think you will have no difficulty in understand- ing my meaning when I said that the end of anything was that which could not be accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing? I understand your meaning, he said, and assent. And that to which an end is appointed has also an excellence r Need I ask again whether the eye has an end? It has. And has not the eye an excellence? Yes. And the ear has an end and an excellence also? True. And the same is true of all other things; they have each of them an end and a special excellence? That is so. Well, and can the eyes fulfil their end if they are wanting in their own proper excellence and have a defect instead ? How can they, he said, if they are blind and cannot see ? 22 PLATO You mean to say, if they have lost their proper excellence, which is sight; but I have not arrived at that point yet. I would rather ask the question more generally, and only enquire whether the things which fulfil their ends fulfil them by their own pro- per excellence, and fail of fulfilling them by their own defect? Certainly, he replied. I might say the same of the ears ; when deprived of their own proper excellence they cannot fulfil their end? True. And the same observation will apply to all other things? I agree. Well, and has not the soul an end which nothing else can fulfil ? for example, to superintend and command and deliberate and the like. Are not these functions proper to the soul, and can they rightly be assigned to any other? To no other. And is not life to be reckoned among the ends of the soul ? Assuredly, he said. And has not the soul an excellence also? Yes. And can she or can she not fulfil her ends when deprived of that excellence? She cannot. Then an evil soul must necessarily be an evil ruler, and the good soul a good ruler? Yes, necessarily. And we have admitted that justice is the excellence of the soul, and injustice the defect of the soul ? That has been admitted. Then the just soul and the just man will live well, and the unjust man will live ill? That is what your argument proves. And he who lives well will be blessed and happy, and he who lives ill the reverse of happy? Certainly. Then the just is happy, and the unjust miserable? So be it. THE REPUBLIC 23 But happiness and not misery is profitable? Of course. Then, my blessed Thrasymachus, injustice can never be more profitable than justice. Let this, Socrates, be your entertainment at the Bendidea. BOOK IF. THE CARDINAL VIRTUES Socrates Adeimantus Glaucon Sleph. 42J But where, amid all this, is justice? son of Ariston, tell me where. Now that our city has been made habitable, light a candle and search, and get your brother and Polemarchus and the rest of our friends to help, and let us see whether we can dis- cover where is justice and where is injustice, and in what they differ from one another, and which of them the man who would be happy should have for his portion, whether seen or unseen by gods and men. Nonsense, said Glaucon; did you not promise to search your- self, saying that to desert justice in her need would be an im- piety ? I do not deny that I said so ; and as you remind me, I will be as good as my word; but you must join. We will, he replied. Well, then, I hope to make the discovery in this way : I mean to begin with the assumption that our State, if rightly ordered, is perfect. That is most certain. And being perfect, is therefore wise and valiant and temper- ate and just. That is likewise clear. And whichever of these qualities we find in the State, the one which is not found will be the residue? Very good. If there were four things, and we were searching for one of them, wherever it might be, the one sought for might be known to us from the first, and there would be no further trouble; or, 24 PLATO we might know the three first, and then the fourth would clearly be the one left. Very true, he said. And is not a similar method to be pursued about the virtues, which are also four in number? Clearly. First among the virtues found in the State, wisdom comes into view, and in this I detect a certain peculiarity. What is that? The State which we have been describing is said to be wise as being good in counsel? Very true. And good counsel is clearly a kind of knowledge, for not by ignorance, but by knowledge, do men counsel well? Clearly. And the kinds of knowledge in a State are many and diverse ? Of course. There is the knowledge of the carpenter; but is that the sort of knowledge which gives a city the title of wise and good in counsel ? Certainly not; that would only give a city the reputation of skill in carpentering. Then a city is not to be called wise because possessed of know- ledge which counsels for the best about wooden implements? Certainly not. Nor by reason of a knowledge which advises about brazen im- plements, he said, nor as possessing any other similar knowledge ? Not by reason of any of them, he said. Nor yet by reason of a knowledge which cultivates the earth ; that would give the city the name of agricultural? Yes. Well, I said, and is there any knowledge in our recently- founded State among any of the citizens which advises, not about any particular thing in the State, but about the whole, and con- siders how a State can best deal with itself and with other States ? There certainly is. THE REPUBLIC 25 And what is this knowledge, and among whom is it found? I asked. It is the knowledge of the guardians, he replied, and is found among those whom we were just now describing as perfect guardians. And what is the name which the city derives from the posses- sion of this sort of knowledge? The name of good in counsel and truly wise. And will there be more of these true guardians or more smiths ? The smiths, he replied, will be far more numerous. Will not the guardians be the smallest of all the classes who re- ceive a name from the profession of some kind of knowledge ? Much the smallest. And so by reason of this smallest part or class, and of the know- ledge which resides in this presiding and ruling part of itself, the whole State, being thus naturally constituted, will be wise; and this, which has the only knowledge worthy to be called wisdom, has been ordained by nature to be of all classes the least. Most true. Thus, then, I said, the nature and place in the State of one of the four virtues has somehow or other been discovered. And, in my humble opinion, very satisfactorily discovered, he replied. Again, I said, there is no difficulty in seeing the nature of cour- age, and in what part that quality resides which gives the name of courageous to the State. How do you mean ? Why, I said, every one who calls any State courageous or cow- ardly, will be thinking of the part which fights and goes out to battle on the State’s behalf. No one, he replied, would ever think of any other. The rest of the citizens may be courageous or may be cowardly, but their courage or cowardice will not, as I conceive, have the effect of making the city either the one or the other. Certainly not. The city will be courageous in virtue of a portion of herself which preserves under all circumstances that opinion about things 26 PLATO to be feared and not to be feared in which our legislature edu- cated them; and this is what you term courage. I should like to hear what you are saying once more, for I do not think that I perfectly understand you. I mean that courage is a kind of salvation. Salvation of what? Of the opinion respecting things to be feared, of what they are, and of what nature, which the law implants through education; and I mean by the words “under all circumstances” to intimate that in pleasure or in pain, or under the influence of desire or fear, a man preserves, and does not lose this opinion. Shall I give you an illustration? If you please. You know, I said, that the dyers, when they want to dye wool for making the true sea-purple, begin by selecting their white colour first; this they prepare and dress with much care and pains, in order that the white ground may take the purple hue in full perfection. The dyeing then proceeds; and whatever is dyed in this manner becomes a fast colour, and no washing either with lyes or without them can take away the bloom. But when the ground has not been duly prepared you will have noticed how poor is the look either of purple or of any other colour? Yes, he said; I know that they have a washed-out and ridicu- lous appearance. Then now, I said, you will understand what our object was in selecting our soldiers, and educating them in music and gymnas- tic; we were contriving influences which would prepare them to take the dye of the laws in perfection, and the colour of their opin- ion about dangers and of every other opinion was to be indelibly fixed by their nurture and training, and not to be washed away by such potent lyes as pleasure — mightier agent far in washing thesoul than anysoda or lye; or by sorrow, fear, and desire, which are the mightiest of all other solvents. And this sort of universal saving power of true opinion in conformity with law about real and false dangers, I call and maintain to be courage, unless you disagree. But I agree, he replied; for I suppose that you mean to exclude THE REPUBLIC 27 mere uninstructed courage, such as that of a wild beast or of a slave — this, in your opinion, is not the courage which the law ordains, and ought to have another name. Most certainly. Then I may infer courage to be such as you describe? Why, yes, said I, you may, and if you add the words “of a citizen,” you will not be far wrong; — hereafter, if you like, we will carry the examination further, but at present we are seeking not for courage but justice; and for the purpose of our enquiry we have said enough. You are right, he replied. Two virtues remain to be discovered in the State — first, tem- perance, and then justice, which is the great object of our search. Very true. Now, can we find justice without troubling ourselves about temperance ? I do not know how that can be accomplished, he said, nor do I desire that justice should be brought to light and temperance lost sight of ; and therefore I wish that you would do me the favour of considering temperance first. Certainly, I replied, I should not be justified in refusing your request. Then consider, he said. Yes, I replied; I will; and as far as I can at present see, the virtue of temperance has more of the nature of harmony and symphony than the preceding. How so? he asked. Temperance, I replied, is the ordering or controlling of cer- tain pleasures and desires; this is curiously enough implied in the saying of “a man being his own master;” and other traces of the same notion may be found in language. No doubt, he said. There is something ridiculous in the expression “master of himself;” for the master is also the servant and the servant the master ; and in all these modes of speaking the same person is denoted. Certainly. 28 PLATO The meaning is, I believe, that the human soul has a better principle, and has also a worse principle; and when the better has the worse under control, then a man is said to be master of himself; and this is a term of praise: but when, owing to evil education or association, the better principle, which is also the smaller, is overwhelmed by the greater mass of the worse ; in this case he is blamed and is called the slave of self and unprincipled. Yes, there is reason in that. And now, I said, look at our newly-created State, and there you will find one of these two conditions realized; for the State, as you will acknowledge, may be justly called master of itself, if the words “temperance” and “self-mastery” truly express the rule of the better part over the worse. Yes, he said, I see what you say is true. Let me further note that the manifold and complex pleasures and desires and pains are generally found in children and wo- men and servants, and in the freemen, so called, who are of the lowest and more numerous class. Certainly, he said. Whereas the simple and moderate desires which follow rea- son, and are under the guidance of mind and true opinion, are to be found only in a few, and those the best born and best educated. Very true. These two, as you may perceive, have a place in our State, but the meaner desires of the many are held down by the virtuous desires and wisdom of the few. That I perceive, he said. Then if there be any city which may be described as master of its own pleasures and desires, and master of itself, ours may claim such a designation? Certainly, he replied. It may also be called temperate, and for the same reasons? Yes. And if there be any State in which rulers and subjects will be agreed about the question who are to rule, that again will be our State? THE REPUBLIC 29 Undoubtedly. And the citizens being thus agreed among themselves, in which class will temperance be found — in the rulers or in the subjects ? In both, as I should imagine, he replied. Do you observe that we were not far wrong in our guess that temperance was a sort of harmony ? Why so? Why, because temperance is unlike courage and wisdom, each of which resides in a part only, the one making the State wise and the other valiant; not so temperance, which extends to the whole, and runs through the notes of the scale, and produces a harmony of the weaker and the stronger and the middle class, whether you suppose them to be stronger or weaker in wisdom or power or numbers or wealth, or anything else. Most truly then may we deem temperance to be the agreement of the naturally superior and inferior, as to the right rule of either, both in states and individuals. I entirely agree with you. And so, I said, we may consider three of the virtues to have been discovered in our State. The last of those qualities which make a state virtuous must be justice, if we only knew what that was. The inference is obvious. The time then has arrived, Glaucon, when, like huntsmen, we should surround the cover, and look sharp that justice does not steal away, and pass out of sight, and escape us; for beyond a doubt she is somewhere in this country : watch therefore and strive to catch a sight of her, and if you see her first, let me know. Would that I could ! But you should regard me rather as a fol- lower who has just eyes enough to see what you show him — that is about as much as I am good for. Offer up a prayer with me and follow. I will, but you must show me the way. Here is no path, I said, and the wood is dark and perplexing; still we must push on. Let us push on. Here I saw something: Halloo! I said, I begin to oerceive a track, and I believe that the quarry will not escape. 30 PLATO Good news, he said. Truly, I said, we are stupid fellows. Why so? Why, my good sir, at the beginning of our enquiry, ages ago, there was justice tumbling about at our feet, and we never saw her ; nothing could be more ridiculous. Like people who go about looking for what they have in their hands — that was the way with us — we looked not at what we were seeking, but what was far off in the distance, and therefore, I suppose, we missed her. What do you mean? I mean to say that in reality for a long time past we have been talking of justice, and have failed to recognize her. I grow impatient at the length of your exordium. Well then, tell me, I said, whether I am right or not: You remember the original principle which we were always lay- ing down at the foundation of the State, that one man should practise one thing only, the thing to which his nature was best adapted; — now justice is this principle or a part of it. Yes, we often said that one man should do one thing only. Further, we affirmed that justicewas doing one’s own business, and not being a busybody; we said so again and again, and many others have said the same to us. Yes, we said so. Then to do one’s own business in a certain way may be assumed to be justice. Can you tell me whence I derive this inference? I cannot, but I should like to be told. Because I think that this is the only virtue which remains in the State when the other virtues of temperance and courage and wisdom are abstracted; and that this is the ultimate cause and condition of the existence of all of them, and while remaining in them is also their preservative; and we were saying that if the three were discovered by us, justice would be the fourth or remaining one. That follows of necessity. If we were asked to determine which of these four qualities by its presence contributes most to the excellence of the State, THE REPUBLIC 31 whether the agreement of rulers and subjects, or the preservation in the soldiers of the opinion which the law ordains about the true nature of dangers, or wisdom and watchfulness in the rulers, or whether this other which I am mentioning, and which is found in children and women, slave and freemen, artisan, ruler, subject, — the quality, I mean, of every one doing his own work, and not being a busybody, — would claim the palm, the question is not so easily answered. Certainly, he replied, there would be difficulty in saying which. Then the power of each individual in the State to do his own work appears to compete with the other political virtues, wisdom, temperance, courage? Yes, he said. And the virtue which enters into this competition is justice? Exactly. Let us look at the question from another point of view : Are not the rulers in a State those to whom you would entrust the office of determining suits at law ? Certainly. And are suits decided on any other ground but that a man may neither take what is another’s, nor be deprived of what is his own? Yes; that is their principle. Which is a just principle? Yes. Then on this view also justice will be admitted to be the hav- ing and doing what is a man’s own, and belongs to him? Very true. Think, now, and say whether you agree with me or not. Sup- pose a carpenter to be doing the business of a cobbler, or a cob- bler of a carpenter; and suppose them to exchange their imple- ments or their duties, or the same person to be doing the work of both ; do you think that any great harm would result to the State ? Not much. But when the cobbler or any other man whom nature designed to be a trader, having his heart lifted up by wealth or strength or the number of his followers, or any like advantage, attempts 32 PLATO to force his way into the class of warriors, or a warrior into that of legislators and guardians, for which he is unfitted, and either to take the implements or the duties of the other; or when one man is trader, legislator, and warrior all in one, then I think you will agree with me that this interchange and meddling of one with another is the ruin of the State. Most true. Seeing then, I said, that there are three distinct classes, any meddling of one with another, or the change of one into another, is the greatest harm to the State, and may be most justly termed evil-doing ? Precisely. And the greatest degree of evil-doing to one’s own city would be termed by you injustice? Certainly. This then is injustice; and on the other hand when the trader, the auxiliary, and the guardian each do their own business, that is justice, and will make the city just. I agree with you. We will not, I said, be over-positive as yet; but if, on trial, this conception of justice be verified in the individual as well as in the State, then there will be no longer any room for doubt; if it be not verified we must have a fresh enquiry. First let us com- plete the old investigation, which we began, as you remember, under the impression that, if we could previously examine jus- tice on the larger scale, there would be less difficulty in discern- ing her in the individual. That larger example appeared to be the State, and accordingly we constructed one, as good a one as we could, knowing well that in the good State justice would be found. Let the discovery which we made be now applied to the indi- vidual — if they agree, we shall be satisfied; or, if there be a difference in the individual, we will come back to the State and have another trial of the theory. The friction of the two when rubbed together may possibly strike a light in which justice will shine forth, and the vision which is then revealed we will fix in our souls. That will be in regular course; and let us do as you say. THE REPUBLIC 33 I proceeded to ask : When two things, a greater and less, are called by the same name, are they like or unlike in so far as they are called the same? Like, he replied. The just man then, if we regard the idea of justice only, will be like the just State? He will. And a State was thought by us to be just when the three classes in the State severally did their own business; and also thought to be temperate and valiant and wise by reason of certain other affections and qualities of these same classes? True, he said. And so of the individual ; we may assume that he has the same three principles in his own soul, which are found in the State; and he may be rightly described in the same terms, because he is affected in the same manner? Certainly, he said. Once more then, O my friend, we have alighted upon an easy question — whether the soul has these three principles or not ? An easy question! Nay, rather, Socrates, the proverb holds that hard is the good. Very true, I said; and I do not think that the method which we are employing is at all adequate to the accurate solution of this question; the true method is another and a longer one. Still we may arrive at a solution not below the level of the previous enquiry. May we not be satisfied with that? he said; — under the cir- cumstances, I am quite content. I too, I replied, shall be extremely w^ell satisfied. Then faint not in pursuing the speculation, he said. Must we not acknowledge, I said, that in each of us there are the same principles and habits which there are in the State; and that from the individual they pass into the State? — how else can they come there? Take the quality of passion or spirit; — it would be ridiculous to imagine that this quality, when found in States, is not derived from the individuals wJ;io are supposed to possess it, e. g. the Thracians, Scythians, and in general the 34 PLATO northern nations; and the same may be said of the love of know- ledge, which is the special characteristic of our part of the world, or the love of money, which may, with equal truth, be attributed to the Phoenicians and Egyptians. Exactly so, he said. There is no difficulty in understanding this. None whatever. And so, after much tossing, we have reached land, and are fairly agreed that the same principles which exist in the State, exist in the individual, and that they are three in number. Exactly. Must we not then infer that the individual is wise in the same way, and in virtue of the same quality which makes the State wise? Certainly. And that the same quality which constitutes courage in the State constitutes courage in the individual, that both the State and the individual bear the same relation to all the other virtues ? Assuredly. And the individual will be acknowledged by us to be just in the same way that the State is just? That follows of course. We cannot but remember that the justice of the State con- sisted in each of the three classes doing the work of its own class? We are not very likely to have forgotten, he said. We must recollect that the individual in whom the several qualities of his nature do their own work will be just, and will do his own work? Yes, he said, we must remember that too. And ought not the rational principle, which is wise, and has the care of the whole soul, to rule, and the passionate or spirited principle to be the subject and ally? Certainly. And, as we were saying, the united influence of music and gymnastic will bring them into accord, nerving and sustaining the reason with noble words and lessons, and moderating and THE REPUBLIC 35 soothing and civilizing the wildness of passion, by harmony and rhythm? Quite true, he said. And these two, thus nurtured and educated, and having learned truly to know their own functions, will rule over the con- cupiscent, wEich in each of us is the largest part of the soul and by nature most insatiable of gain ; over this they will keep guard, lest, waxing great with the fulness of bodily pleasures, as they are termed, the concupiscent soul no longer confined to her own sphere, should attempt to enslave and rule those who are not her natural-born subjects, and overturn the whole life of man? Very true, he said. Both together will they not be the best defenders of the whole soul and the whole body against attacks from without ; the one counselling, and the other fighting under his leader, and cour- ageously executing his commands and counsels. True. And he is to be deemed courageous whose spirit retains fast in pleasure and in pain the commands of reason about what he ought or ought not to fear? Right, he replied. And him we call wise who has in him that little part which rules, and which proclaims these commands ; that part too being supposed to have a knowledge of what is for the interest of each of the three parts and of the whole? Assuredly. And would you not say that he is temperate who has these same elements in friendly harmony, in whom the one ruling prin- ciple of reason and the two subject ones of spirit and desire are equally agreed that reason ought to rule, and do not rebel ? Certainly, he said, that is the true account of temperance whether in the State or individual. And surely, I said, we have explained again and again how and by virtue of what quality a man will be just. That is very certain. And is justice dimmer in the individual, and is her form dif- ferent, or is she the same which we found in the State? 36 PLATO There is no difference in my opinion, he said. Because, if any doubt is still lingering in our minds, a few commonplace instances will satisfy us of the truth of what I am saying. What sort of instances do you mean? If the case is put to us, must we not admit that the just State, or the man who is trained in the principles of such a State, will be less likely than the unjust to make away with a deposit of gold or silver? Would any one deny this? No one, he replied. Will the just man or citizen ever be guilty of sacrilege or theft, or treachery either to his friends or to his country? That will be far from him. Neither will he ever break faith where there have been oaths or agreements? Impossible. No one will be less likely to commit adultery, or to dishonour his father and mother, or to fail in his religious duties? No one. And the reason is that each part of him is doing its own busi- ness, whether in ruling or being ruled? Very true. Are you satisfied then that the quality which makes such men and such States is justice, or do you hope to discover some other ? Not I, indeed. Then our dream has been realized; and the suspicion that we entertained at the beginning of our work of construction, that some divine power must have conducted us to a primary form of justice — that suspicion of ours has been now verified? And the division of labour which required the carpenter and the shoemaker and the rest of the citizens to be doing each his own business, and not another’s, was a shadow of justice, and for that reason it was of use? Clearly. But in reality justice was such as we were describing, being concerned not with the outward man, but with the inward, which is the true self and concernment of man: for the just man does THE REPUBLIC 37 not permit the several elements within him to interfere with one another, or any of them to do the work of others, — but he sets in order his own inner life, and is his own master, and his own law, and at peace with himself; and when he has bound together the three principles within him, which may be compared to the higher, lower, and middle notes of the scale, and the intermediate intervals — w'hen he has bound all these together, and is no longer many, but has become one entirely temperate and per- fectly adjusted nature, then he proceeds to act, if he has to act, whether in a matter of property, or in the treatment of the body, or in some affair of politics or private business; always thinking and calling that which preserves and cooperates with this har- monious condition, just and good action, and the knowledge which presides over it, wisdom, and that which at any time im- pairs this condition, he will call unjust action, and the opinion which presides over it ignorance. You have said the exact truth, Socrates. Very good; and if we were to affirm that we had discovered the just man and the just State, and the place of justice in each of them, we should not be telling a falsehood? Most certainly not. BOOK VI. THE IDEA OF THE GOOD Socrates Glaucon Steph. pop You may remember, I said, that we divided the soul into three parts; and distinguished the several natures of justice, temper- ance, courage, and wisdom? Indeed, he said, if I had forgotten that, I should not deserve to hear more. And do you remember the word of caution which preceded the discussion of them? To what do you refer? We were saying, if I am not mistaken, that he who wanted to see them in their perfect beauty must take a longer and more PLATO 38 circuitous way, at the end of which they would appear; but that we could add on a popular exposition of them on a level with the discussion which had preceded. And you replied that such an exposition would be enough for you, and so the enquiry was con- tinued in what appeared to me to be a very inaccurate manner ; whether you were satisfied or not is for you to say. Yes, he said, 1 thought and the others thought that you gave us a fair measure of truth. But, my friend, I said, a measure of such things which in any degree falls short of the truth is not fair measure; for nothing imperfect is the measure of anything, although persons are too apt to be contented and think that they need search no further. Not an uncommon case when people are indolent. Yes, I said; and there cannot be any worse fault in a guardian of the State and of the laws. True. The guardian then, I said, must be required to take the longer circuit, and toil at learning as well as at gymnastics, or he will never reach the highest knowledge of all, which, as we were just now saying, is his proper calling. What, he said, is there a knowledge still higher than this — higher than justice and the other virtues? Yes, I said, there is. And of these too we must behold not the outline merely, as at present — nothing short of the most finished work should satisfy us. When little things are elaborated with an infinity of pains, in order that they may appear in their full beauty and utmost clearness, how ridiculous that we should not think the highest truths worthy of attaining the greatest exact- ness! A right noble thought; but do you suppose that we shall re- frain from asking you what is the highest knowledge? Nay, I said, ask if you will; but I am certain that you have heard the answer many times, and now you either do not understand me or you mean to be troublesome; for you have often been told that the idea of good is the highest knowledge, and that all other things become useful and advantageous only by their use of this. You can hardly be ignorant that of this I THE REPUBLIC 39 was about to speak, concerning which, as you have often heard me say, we know so little; and, without which, any other know- ledge or possession of any kind will profit us nothing. Do you think that the possession of all other things is of any value if we do not possess the good ? or the knowledge of all other things if we have no knowledge of beauty and goodness? Assuredly not. You are further aware that most people affirm pleasure to be the good, but the finer sort of wits say it is knowledge? Yes. And you are aware too that the latter cannot explain what they mean by knowledge, but are obliged after all to say know- ledge of the good? How ridiculous! Yes, I said, that they should begin by reproaching us with our ignorance of the good, and then presume our knowledge of it — for good they define to be the knowledge of the good, just as if we understood them when they used the term “good” — this is of course ridiculous. Most true, he said. And those who make pleasure their good are in equal per- plexity; for they are compelled to admit that there are bad pleasures as well as good. Certainly. And therefore to acknowledge that bad and good are the same ? True. There can be no doubt about the numerous difficulties in which this question is involved. There can be none. Further, do we not see that many are wiring to do or to have or to seem to be the just and honourable without the reality; but no one is satisfied with the appearance of good — the reality is what they seek ; in the case of the good, appearance is despised by every one. Very true, he said. Of this then, which every soul of man pursues and makes the end of all his actions, having a presentiment that there is such an 40 PLATO end, and yet hesitating because neither knowing the nature nor having the same assurance of this as of other things, and there- fore losing whatever good there is in other things, — of a prin- ciple such and so great as this ought the best men in our State, to whom everything is entrusted, to be in the darkness of igno- rance? Certainly not, he said. I am sure, I said, that he who does not know how the beauti- ful and the just are likewise good will be but a sorry guardian of them ; and I suspect that no one who is ignorant of the good will have a true knowledge of them. That, he said, is a shrewd suspicion of yours. And if we only have a guardian who has this knowledge our State will be perfectly ordered? Of course, he replied; but I wish that you would tell me whether you conceive this supreme principle of the good to be knowledge or pleasure, or different from either? Aye, I said, I knew quite well that a fastidious gentleman like you would not be contented with the thoughts of other people about these matters. True, Socrates; but I must say that one who like you has passed a lifetime in the study of philosophy should not be always repeating the opinions of others, and never telling his own. Well, but has any one a right to say positively what he does not know? Not, he said, with the assurance of positive certainty; he has - no right to do that : but he may say what he thinks, as a matter of opinion. And do you not know, I said, that all mere opinions are bad, and the best of them blind? You would not deny that those who have any true notion without intelligence are only like blind men who find their way along the road ? Very true. And do you wish to behold what is blind and crooked and base, when others will tell you of brightness and beauty? Still, I must implore you, Socrates, said Glaucon, not to turn away just as you are reaching the goal; if you will only give THE REPUBLIC 41 such an explanation of the good as you have already given of justice and temperance and the other virtues, vve shall be satis- fied. Yes, my friend, and I shall be at least equally satisfied, but I cannot help fearing that I shall fail, and that my indiscreet zeal will bring ridicule upon me. No, sweet sirs, let us not at present ask what is the actual nature of the good, for to reach what is now in my thoughts would be an effort too great for me. But of the child of the good who is likest him, I would fain speak, if I could be sure that you wished to hear — otherwise, not. By all means, he said, tell us about the child, and you shall remain in our debt for an account of the parent. I do indeed wish, I replied, that I could pay, and you receive, an account of the parent, and not, as now, of the offspring only; take, however, this byway of interest,* and at the same time have a care that I do not render a false account, although I have no intention of deceiving you. Yes, we will take all the care that we can: proceed. Yes, I said, but I must first come to an understanding with you, and remind you of what I have mentioned in the course of this discussion, and at many other times. What? The old story, that there is a many beautiful and a many good, and so of other things which we describe and define; to all of them the term “many” is applied. True, he said. And there is an absolute beauty and an absolute good, and of other things to which the term “many” is applied there is an absolute; for they may be brought under a single idea, which is called the essence of each. Very true. The many, as we say, are seen but not known, and the ideas are known but not seen. Exactly. And what is the organ with which we see the visible things? The sight, he said. ‘ A play upon t6kos, which means both “offspring” and “interest.” 42 PLATO And with the hearing, I said, we hear, and with the other senses perceive the other objects of sense? True. But have you remarked that sight is by far the most costly and complex piece of workmanship which the artificer of the senses ever contrived? No, I never have, he said. Then reflect : has the ear or voice need of any third or addi- tional nature in order that the one may be able to hear and the other to be heard? Nothing of the sort. No, indeed, I replied; and the same is true of most, if not all, the other senses — you would not say that any of them requires such an addition? Indeed not. But you see that without the addition there is no seeing or being seen? How do you mean? Sight being, as I conceive, in the eyes, and he who has eyes wanting to see; colour being also present in them, still unless there be a third nature specially adapted to the purpose, the owner of the eyes will see nothing and the colours will be invisible. Of what nature are you speaking? Of that which you term light, I replied. True, he said. Noble, then, is the bond which links together sight and visi- bility, and great beyond other bonds by no small difference of nature; for light is their bond, and light is no ignoble thing? Nay, he said, the reverse of ignoble. And which, I said, of the gods in heaven would you say was the lord of this element? Whose is that light which makes the eye to see perfectly and the visible to appear? You mean the sun, as you and all mankind say. May not the relation of sight to this deity be described as follows ? How? Neither sight nor the eye in which sight resides is the sun? No. THE REPUBLIC 43 Yet of all the organs of sense the eye is the most like the sun? By far the most like. And the power which the eye possesses is a sort of effluence which is dispensed from the sun? Exactly. Then the sun is not sight, but the author of sight who is rec- ognized by sight? True, he said. And this is he whom I call the child of the good, whom the good begat in his own likeness, to be in the visible world, in re- lation to sight and the things of sight, what the good is in the intellectual world in relation to mind and the things of mind. Will you be a little more explicit? he said. Why, you know, I said, that the eyes, when a person directs them towards objects on which the light of day is no longer shining, but the moon and stars only, see dimly, and are nearly blind; they seem to have no clearness of vision in them? Very true. But when they are directed towards objects on which the sun shines, they see clearly and there is sight in them? Certainly. And the soul is like the eye : when resting upon that on which truth and being shine, the soul perceives and understands, and is radiant with intelligence; but when turned towards the twilight of becoming and perishing, then she has opinion only, and goes blinking about, and is first of one opinion and then of another, and seems to have no intelligence? Just so. Now, that which imparts truth to the known and the power of knowing to the knower is what I would have you term the idea of good, and this you will deem to be the cause of science and of truth, in so far as the latter becomes the subject of knowledge ; beautiful too, as are both truth and knowledge, you will be right in esteeming this other nature as more beautiful than either ; and as, in the previous instance, light and sight may be truly said to be like the sun, and yet not to be the sun, so in this other sphere. 44 PLATO science and truth may be deemed like the good, but not the good; the good has a place of honour yet higher. What a wonder of beauty that must be, he said, which is the author of science and truth, and yet surpasses them in beauty ; for you surely cannot mean to say that pleasure is the good? God forbid, I replied; but may I ask you to consider the image in another point of view ? In what point of view ? You would say, would you not, that the sun is not only the author of visibility in all visible things, but of generation and nourishment and growth, though he himself is not generation? Certainly, In like manner the good * may be said to be not only the au- thor of knowledge to all things known, but of their being and essence, and yet the good is not essence, but far exceeds essence in dignity and power. * The elements of this supreme good are summarized by Plato in one of his latest works, the Philebus, as follows; — [Steph. 66 A] Soc. Then, Protarchus, you will proclaim everywhere, by word of mouth to this company, and by messengers bearing the tidings far, that pleas- ure is not the first of possessions, nor yet the second, but that in measure, and the mean, and the suitable, and the like the eternal nature has been found. Pro. Yes, that seems to be the result of what has now been said. Soc. In the second class is contained the symmetrical and beautiful and per- fect or sufficient, and all which are of that family. Pro. T rue. Soc. And if you reckon in the third class mind and wisdom, you will not be far wrong, if I divine aright. ‘ Pro. I dare say. Soc. And would you not put in the fourth class the goods which we were af- firming to appertain especially to the soul — sciences and arts and true opinions as we call them ? These come after the third class, and form the fourth, as they are certainly more akin to good than pleasure is. Pro. Surely. Soc. The fifth class are the pleasures which were defined by us as painless, being the pure pleasures of the soul herself, as we termed them, which accom- pany, some the sciences, some the senses. Pro. Perhaps. Soc. And now, as Orpheus says, — With the sixth generation cease the glory of my song. Here, at the sixth award, let us make an end. THE REPUBLIC 45 BOOK VII. THE JLLEGORT OF THE CAVE Socrates Glaucon Steph. 514 And now, I said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened: Behold! human beings living in an underground den, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the den; they have been here from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them; for the chains are arranged in such a manner as to prevent them from turning round their heads. Above and behind them the light of a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets. I see. And do you see, I said, men passing along the wall, carrying all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone and various materials, which appear over the wall? Some of them are talking, others silent. You have shown me a strange image, and they are strange prisoners. Like ourselves, I replied ; and they see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the op- posite wall of the cave? True, he said; how could they see anything but the shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads? And of the objects which are being carried in like manner they would only see the shadows? Yes, he said. And if they were able to converse with one another, would they not suppose that they were naming what was actually before them? Very true. And suppose further that the prison had an echo which came 46 PLATO from the other side, would they not be sure to fancy when one of the passers-by spoke that the voice which they heard came from the passing shadow? No question, he replied. To them, I said, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows of the images. That is certain. And now look again, and see what will naturally follow if the prisoners are released and disabused of their error. At first, when any one of them is liberated and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn his neck round and walk and look towards the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will distress him, and he will be unable to see the realities of which in his former state he had seen the shadows; and then conceive some one saying to him, that what he saw before was an illusion, but that now when he is ap- proaching nearer to being and his eye is turned towards more real existence, he has a clearer vision, — what will be his reply? And you may further imagine that his instructor is pointing to the objects as they pass and requiring him to name them, — will he not be perplexed? Will he not fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects which are now shown to him? Far truer. And if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he not have a pain in his eyes which will make him turn away to take refuge in the objects of vision which he can see, and which he will conceive to be in reality clearer than the things which are now being shown to him? True, he said. And suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up a steep and rugged ascent, and held fast until he is forced into the presence of the sun himself, is he not likely to be pained and irritated ? When he approaches the light his eyes will be dazzled, and he will not be able to see anything at all of what are now called realities. Not all in a moment, he said. He will require to grow accustomed to the sight of the upper THE REPUBLIC 47 world. And first he will see the shadows best, next the reflections of men and other objects in the water, and then the objects them- selves ; then he will gaze upon the light of the moon and the stars and the spangled heaven ; and he will see the sky and the stars by night better than the sun or the light of the sun by day? Certainly. Last of all he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflec- tions of him in the water, but he will see him as he is in his own proper place, and not in another; and he will contemplate him as he is. Certainly. He will proceed to argue that this sun is he who gives the sea- sons and the years, and is the guardian of all that is in the visi- ble world, and in a certain way the cause of all things which he and his fellows have been accustomed to behold? Clearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then reason about him. And when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate himself on the change, and pity them? Certainly, he would. And if they were in the habit of conferring honours among themselves on those who were quickest to observe the passing shadows and to remark which of them went before, and which followed after, and which were together; and who were therefore best able to draw conclusions as to the future, do you think that he would care for such honours and glories, or envy the posses- sors of them? Would he not say with Homer, Better to be the poor servant of a poor master, and to endure anything, rather than to think as they do and live after their manner? Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain these false notions and live in this miserable manner. Imagine once more, I said, such an one coming suddenly out of the sun to be replaced in his old situation; would he not be certain to have his eyes full of darkness? PLATO 48 To be sure, he said. And if there were a contest, and he had to compete in measur- ing the shadows with the prisoners who had never moved out of the den, while his sight was still weak, and before his eyes had become steady (and the time which would be needed to acquire this new habit of sight might be very considerable), would he not be ridiculous ? Men would say of him that up he went and down he came without his eyes; and that it was better not even to think of ascending; and if any one tried to loose another and lead him up to the light, let them only catch the offender, and they would put him to death. No question, he said. This entire allegory, I said, you may now append, dear Glau- con, to the previous argument ; the prison-house is the world of sight, the light of the fire is the sun, and you will not misappre- hend me if you interpret the journey upward to be the ascent of the soul into the intellectual world according to my poor be- lief, which, at your desire, I have expressed — whether rightly or wrongly God knows. But, whether true or false, my opinion is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort; and, when seen, is also in- ferred to be the universal author of all things beautiful and right, parent of light and of the lord of light in this world, and the source of truth and reason in the intellectual ; and that this thing is the power upon which he who would act rationally either in public or private life must have his eye fixed. I agree, he said, as far as I am able to understand you. Moreover, I said, you must not wonder that those who attain to this beatific vision are unwilling to descend to human affairs; for their souls are ever hastening into the upper world where they desire to dwell; which desire of theirs is very natural, if our allegory may be trusted. Yes, very natural. And is there anything surprising in one who passes from divine contemplations to the evil state of man, misbehaving himself in a ridiculous manner; if, while his eyes are blinking and before he has become accustomed to the surrounding darkness, he is THE REPUBLIC 49 compelled to fight in courts of law, or in other places, about the images or shadows of images of justice, and is endeavouring to meet the conceptions of those who have never yet seen absolute justice? Anything but surprising, he replied. Any one who has common sense will remember that the be- wilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind’s eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he sees any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of man has come out of the brighter life, and is unable to see because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to the day is dazzled by excess of light. And he will count the one happy in his condi- tion and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who returns out of the light into the den. That, he said, is a very just distinction. But then, if I am right, certain professors of education must be wrong when they say that they can put a knowledge into the soul which was not there before, like sight into blind eyes. They imdoubtedly say this, he replied. Whereas, our argument shows that the power and capacity of learning exists in the soul already; and that just as the eye was unable to turn from darkness to light without the whole body, so too the instrument of knowledge can only by the movement of the whole soul be turned round from the world of becoming into that of being, and learn by degrees to endure the sight of being, and of the brightest and best of being, or in other words, of the good. Very true. And must there not be some art which will effect conversion in the easiest and quickest manner; not implanting the faculty of sight, for that exists already, but has been turned in the wrong direction, and is looking away from the truth ? 5 ° PLATO Yes, he said, such an art may be presumed. And whereas the other so-called virtues seem to be akin to the bodily qualities, for even when they are not originally innate they can be implanted later by habit and exercise, the virtue of wisdom more than anything else contains a divine element which always remains, and by this conversion is rendered useful and profitable ; or, on the other hand, hurtful and useless. Did you never observe the narrow intelligence flashing from the keen eye of a clever rogue — how eager he is, how clearly his paltry soul sees the way to his end; he is the reverse of blind, but his keen eye-sight is forced into the service of evil, and he is mischievous in propor- tion to his cleverness ? Very true, he said. But what if there had been a circumcision of such natures in the days of their youth; and they had been severed from those sensual pleasures, such as eating and drinking, which like leaden weights were attached to them at their birth, and which drag them down and turn the vision of their souls upon the things that are below — if, I say, they had been released from these impediments and turned in the opposite direction, the very same faculty in them would have seen the truth as keenly as they see what their eyes are turned to now. Very likely. Yes, I said; and there is another thing which is likely, or rather a necessary inference from what has preceded, that neither the uneducated and uninformed of the truth, nor yet those who never make an end of their education will be able ministers of State ; not the former, because they have no single aim of duty which is the rule of all their actions, private as well as public; nor the latter, because they will not act at all except upon compulsion, fancying that they are alreadv awelling apart in the islands of the blest. Very true, ne replied. Then, I said, the business of us who are the founders of the State will be to compel the best minds to attain that knowledge which has been already declared by us to be the greatest of all — they must continue to ascend until they arrive at the good ; THE REPUBLIC 51 but when they have ascended and seen enough we must not allow them to do as they do now. What do you mean? I mean that they remain in the upper world : but this must not be allowed ; they must be made to descend again among the pris- oners in the den, and partake of their labours and honours, whether they are worth having or not. But is not this unjust? he said; ought we to give them an in- ferior life, when they might have a superior one? You have again forgotten, my friend, I said, the intention of the legislator, who did not aim at making any one class in the State happy above the rest; the happiness was to be in the whole State, and he held the citizens together by persuasion and neces- sity, making them benefactors of the State, and therefore bene- factors of one another ; to this end he created them, not that they should please themselves, but they were to be his instruments in binding up the State. True, he said, I had forgotten. Observe, Glaucon, that there will be no injustice in compel- ling our philosophers to have a care and providence of others; we shall explain to them that in other States, men of their class are not obliged to share in the toils of politics : and this is reasonable, for they grow up at their own sweet will, and the government would rather not have them. Being self-taught, they cannot be expected to show any gratitude for a culture which they never received. But we have brought you into the world to be rulers of the hive, kings of yourselves and of the other citizens, and have educated you far better and more perfectly than they have been educated, and you are better able to share in the double duty. Wherefore each of you, when his turn comes, must go down to the general underground abode, and get the habit of seeing in the dark ; when you have acquired the habit you will see ten thou- sand times better than the inhabitants of the den, and you will know what the several images are, and what they represent, be- cause you have seen the beautiful and just and good in their truth. And thus our State, which is also yours, will be a reality, and not a dream only, and will be administered in a spirit unlike 52 PLATO that of other States in which men fight with one another about shadows only and are distracted in the struggle for power, which in their eyes is a great good. Whereas the truth is that the State in which the rulers are most reluctant to govern is best and most quietly governed, and the State in which they are most eager, the worst. Quite true, he replied. And will our pupils, when they hear this, refuse to take their turn at the toils of State, when they are allowed to spend the greater part of their time with one another in the heavenly light? Impossible, he answered; for they are just men, and the com- mands which we impose upon them are just; there can be no doubt that everyone of them will take office as a stem necessity, and not after the fashion of our present rulers of State. Yes, my friend, I said; and there lies the point. You must contrive for your future rulers another and a better life than that of a ruler, and then you may have a well-ordered State; for only in the State which offers this, will they rule who are truly rich, not in silver and gold, but in virtue and wisdom, which are the true blessings of life. Whereas if they go to the administration of public affairs, poor and hungering after their own private advan- tage, thinking that hence they are to snatch the good of life, order there can never be; for they will be fighting about office, and the civil and domestic broils which thus arise will be the ruin of the rulers themselves and of the whole State. Most true, he replied. And the only life which looks down upon the life of political ambition is that of true philosophy ? Do you know of any other ? Indeed, I do not, he said. ARISTOTLE (384-324) THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS Translated from the Greek * by F. H. PETERS BOOK I. THE GOOD OR THE END I. Every art and every kind of inquiry, and likewise every act and purpose, seems to aim at some good : and so it has been well said that the good is that at which everything aims. But a difference is observable among these aims or ends. What is aimed at is sometimes the exercise of a faculty, sometimes a certain result beyond that exercise. And where there is an end beyond the act, there the result is better than the exercise of the faculty. Now since there are many kinds of actions and many arts and sciences, it follows that there are many ends also; e. g. health is the end of medicine, ships of shipbuilding, victory of the art of war, and wealth of economy. But when several of these are subordinated to some one art or science, — as the making of bridles and other trappings to the art of horsemanship, and this in turn, along wdth all else that the soldier does, to the art of war, and so on, — then the end of the master-art is always more desired than the ends of the subordi- nate arts, since these are pursued for its sake. And this is equally true whether the end in view be the mere exercise of a faculty or something beyond that, as in the above instances. 2. If then in what we do there be some end which we wish for on its own account, choosing all the others as means to this, but not every end without exception as a means to something else (for so we should go on ad infinitum, and desire would be left void * From ^ApKTTOTeKovs riOiKuv fii$\laSfKa. Reprinted from The N^ico- mackean Ethics of Aristotle, translated by F. H. Peters, London, Kegan Paul, Trench, Triibner & Co., Ltd., 1881 ; 9th ed., 1904. 54 ARISTOTLE and objectless), — this evidently will be the good or the best of all things. And surely from a practical point of view it much con- cerns us to know this good ; for then, like archers shooting at a definite mark, we shall be more likely to attain what we want. If this be so, we must try to indicate roughly what it is, and first of all to which of the arts or sciences it belongs. It would seem to belong to the supreme art or science, that one which most of all deserves the name of master-art or master- science. Now Politics * seems to answer to this description. For it pre- scribes which of the sciences a state needs, and which each man shall study, and up to what point; and to it we see subordinated even the highest arts, such as economy, rhetoric, and the art of war. Since then it makes use of the other practical sciences, and since it further ordains what men are to do and from what to re- frain, its end must include the ends of the others, and must be the proper good of man. For though this good is the same for the individual and the state, yet the good of the state seems a grander and more perfect thing both to attain and to secure; and glad as one would be to do this service for a single individual, to do it for a people and for a number of states is nobler and more divine. This then is the aim of the present inquiry, which is a sort of political inquiry. 4. Since — to resume — all knowledge and all purpose aims at some good, what is this which we say is the aim of Politics; or, in other words, what is the highest of all realizable goods? As to its name, I suppose nearly all men are agreed; for the masses and the men of culture alike declare that it is happiness, and hold that to “live well” or to “do well” is the same as to be “happy.” But they differ as to what this happiness is, and the masses do not give the same account of it as the philosophers. The former take it to be something palpable and plain, as 1 To Aristotle Politics is a much wider term than to us ; it covers the whole field of human life, since man is essentially social. THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 55 pleasure or wealth or fame; one man holds it to be this, and another that, and often the same man is of different minds at different times, — after sickness it is health, and in poverty it is wealth; while when they are impressed with the consciousness of their ignorance, they admire most those who say grand things that are above their comprehension. Some philosophers, on the other hand, have thought that, be- side these several good things, there is an “absolute” good which is the cause of their goodness. As it would hardly be worth while to review all the opinions that have been held, we will confine ourselves to those which are most popular, or which seem to have some foundation in reason. But we must not omit to notice the distinction that is drawn between the method of proceeding from your starting-points or principles, and the method of working up to them. Plato used with fitness to raise this question, and to ask whether the right way is from or to your starting-points, as in the race-course you may run from the judges to the boundary, or vice versa. Well, we must start from what is known. But “what is known” may mean two things: “what is known to us,” which is one thing, or “what is known” simply, which is another. I think it is safe to say that we must start from what is known to us. And on this account nothing but a good moral training can qualify a man to study what is noble and just — in a word, to study questions of Politics. For the undemonstrated fact is here the starting-point, and if this undemonstrated fact be sufficiently evident to a man, he will not require a “reason why.” Now the man who has had a good moral training either has already arrived at starting-points or principles of action, or will easily accept them when pointed out. But he who neither has them nor will accept them may hear what Hesiod' says: — The best is he who of himself doth know; Good too is he who listens to the wise; But he who neither knows himself nor heeds The words of others, is a useless man. ^ Works and Days, 291-295. 56 ARISTOTLE 5. Let us now take up the discussion at the point from which we digressed. It seems that men not unreasonably take their notions of the good or happiness from the lives actually led, and that the masses who are the least refined suppose it to be pleasure, which is the reason why they aim at nothing higher than the life of enjoy- ment. For the most conspicuous kinds of life are three: this life of enjoyment, the life of the statesman, and, thirdly, the contem- plative life. The mass of men show themselves utterly slavish in their preference for the life of brute beasts, but their views receive con- sideration because many of those in high places have the tastes of Sardanapalus. Men of refinement with a practical turn prefer honour; for I suppose we may say that honour is the aim of the statesman’s life. But this seems too superficial to be the good we are seeking: for it appears to depend upon those who give rather than upon those who receive it; while we have a presentiment that the good is something that is peculiarly a man’s own and can scarce be taken away from him. Moreover, these men seem to pursue honour in order that they may be assured of their own excellence, — at least, they wish to be honoured by men of sense, and by those who know them, and on the ground of their virtue or excellence. It is plain, then, that in their view, at any rate, virtue or excellence is better than honour; and perhaps we should take this to be the end of the statesman’s life, rather than honour. But virtue or excellence also appears too incomplete to be what we want ; for it seems that a man might have virtue and yet be asleep or be inactive all his life, and, moreover, might meet with the greatest disasters and misfortunes; and no one would maintain that such a man is happy, except for argument’s sake. But we will not dwell on these matters now, for they are suffi- ciently discussed in the popular treatises. THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 57 The third kind of life is the life of contemplation : we whll treat of it further on/ As for the money-making life, it is something quite contrary to nature; and wealth evidently is not the good of which we are in search, for it is merely useful as a means to something else. So we might rather take pleasure and virtue or excellence to be ends than wealth; for they are chosen on their own account. But it seems that not ev.en they are the end, though much breath has been wasted in attempts to show that they are. 6. Dismissing these views, then, we have now to consider the “universal good,” and to state the difficulties which it presents; though such an inquiry is not a pleasant task in view of our friend- ship for the authors of the doctrine of ideas. But we venture to think that this is the right course, and that in the interests of truth we ought to sacrifice even what is nearest to us, especially as we call ourselves philosophers. Both are dear to us, but it is a sacred duty to give the preference to truth. In the first place, the authors of this theory themselves did not assert a common idea in the case of things of which one is prior to the other ; and for this reason they did not hold one common idea of numbers. Now the predicate good is applied to substances and also to qualities and relations. But that which has inde- pendent existence, what we call “substance,” is logically prior to that which is relative; for the latter is an offshoot as it were, or [in logical language] an accident of a thing or substance. So [by their own showing] there cannot be one common idea of these goods. Secondly, the term good is used in as many different ways as the term “is” or “being:” we apply the term to substances or independent existences, as God, reason; to qualities, as the vir- tues; to quantity, as the moderate or due amount; to relatives, as the useful; to time, as opportunity; to place, as habitation, and so on. It is evident, therefore, that the word good cannot stand for one and the sanve notion in all these various applica- tions ; for if it did, the term could not be applied in all the cate- gories, but in one only. * Cf. VI. 7, 12 and X. 7, 8. ARISTOTLE 58 Thirdly, if the notion were one, since there is but one science of all the things that come under one idea, there would be but one science of all goods; but as it is, there are many sciences even of the goods that come under one category; as, for instance, the science which deals with opportunity in war is strategy, but in disease is medicine; and the science of the due amount in the matter of food is medicine, but in the matter of exercise is the science of gymnastic. Fourthly, one might ask what they mean by the “absolute; ” in “absolute man” and “man” the word “man” has one and the same sense; for in respect of manhood there will be no dif- ference between them; and if so, neither will there be any differ- ence in respect of goodness between “absolute good” and “good.” Fifthly, they do not make the good any more good by making it eternal; a white thing that lasts a long while is no whiter than v/hat lasts but a day. There seems to be more plausibility in the doctrine of the Pythagoreans, who [in their table of opposites] place the one on the same side with the good things [instead of reducing all goods to unity]; and even Speusippus ‘ seems to follow them in this. However, these points may be reserved for another occasion; but objection may be taken to what I have said on the ground that the Platonists do not speak in this way of all goods indis- criminately, but hold that those that are pursued and welcomed on their own account are called good by reference to one com- mon form or type, while those things that tend to produce or preserve these goods, or to prevent their opposites, are called good only as means to thes6, and in a different sense. It is evident that there will thus be two classes of goods : one good in themselves, the other good as means to the former. Let us separate then from the things that are merely useful those that are good in themselves, and inquire if they are called good by reference to one common idea or type. Now what kind of things would one call “ good in themselves ” ? Surely those things that we pursue even apart from their con- ' Plato’s nephew and successor. THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 59 sequences, such as wisdom and sight and certain pleasures and certain honours; for although we sometimes pursue these things as means, no one could refuse to rank them among the things that are good in themselves. If these be excluded, nothing is good in itself except the idea; and then the type or form will be meaningless. If however, these are ranked among the things that are good in themselves, then it must be shown that the goodness of all of them can be defined in the same terms, as white has the same meaning when applied to snow and to white lead. But, in fact, we have to give a separate and different account of the goodness of honour and wisdom and pleasure. Good, then, is not a term that is applied to all these things alike in the same sense or with reference to one common idea or form. But how then do these things come to be called good ? for they do not appear to have received the same name by chance merely. Perhaps it is because they all proceed from one source, or all conduce to one end; or perhaps it is rather in virtue of some analogy, just as we call the reason the eye of the soul because it bears the same relation to the soul that the eye does to the body, and so on. But we may dismiss these questions at present; for to discuss them in detail belongs more properly to another branch of phi- losophy. And for the same reason we may dismiss the further considera- tion of the idea; for even granting that this term good, which is applied to all these different things, has one and the same mean- ing throughout, or that there is an absolute good apart from these particulars, it is evident that this good will not be anything that man can realize or attain; but it is a good of this kind that we are now seeking. It might, perhaps, be thought that it would nevertheless be well to make ourselves acquainted with this universal good, with a view to the goods that are attainable and realizable. With this for a pattern, it may be said, we shall more readily discern our own good, and discerning achieve it. 6o ARISTOTLE There certainly is some plausibility in this argument, but it seems to be at variance with the existing sciences; for though they are all aiming at some good and striving to make up their deficiencies, they neglect to inquire about this universal good. And yet it is scarce likely that the professors of the several arts and sciences should not know, nor even look for, what would help them so much. And indeed I am at a loss to know how the weaver or the car- penter would be furthered in his art by a knowledge of this ab- solute good, or how a man would be rendered more able to heal the sick or to command an army by contemplation of the pure form or idea. For it seems to me that the physician does not even seek for health in this abstract way, but seeks for the health of man, or rather of some particular man, for it is individuals that he has to heal. 7. Leaving these matters, then, let us return once more to the question, what this good can be of which we are in search. It seems to be different in different kinds of action and in dif- ferent arts, — one thing in medicine and another in war, and so on. What then is the good in each of these cases? Surely that for the sake of which all else is done. And that in medicine is health, in war is victory, in building is a house, — a different thing in each different case, but always, in whatever we do and in whatever we choose, the end. For it is always for the sake of the end that all else is done. If then there be one end of all that man does, this end will be the realizable good, — or these ends, if there be more than one. By this generalization our argument is brought to the same point as before. ‘ This point we must try to explain more clearly. We see that there are many ends. But some of these are chosen only as means, as wealth, flutes, and the whole class of instru- ments. And so it is plain that not all ends are final. But the best of all things must, we conceive, be something final. If then there be only one final end, this will be what we are seeking, — or if there be more than one, then the most final of them. ‘ See J. A. Stewart’s Notes on the Nicomachean Ethics, Oxford, 1892. THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 6i Now that which is pursued as an end in itself is more final than that which is pursued as means to something else, and that which is never chosen as means than that which is chosen both as an end in itself and as means, and that is strictly final which is always chosen as an end in itself and never as means. Happiness seems more than anything else to answer to this description ; for we always choose it for itself, and never for the sake of something else; while honour and pleasure and reason, and all virtue or excellence, we choose partly indeed for them- selves (for, apart from any result, we should choose each of them), but partly also for the sake of happiness, supposing that they will help to make us happy. But no one chooses happiness for the sake of these things, or as a means to anything else at all. We seem to be led to the same conclusion when we start from the notion of self-sufficiency. The final good is thought to be self-sufficing [or all-sufficing]. In applying this term we do not regard a man as an individual leading a solitary life, but we also take account of parents, chil- dren, wife, and, in short, friends and fellow-citizens generally, since man is naturally a social being. Some limit must indeed be set to this; for if you go on to parents and descendants and friends of friends, you will never come to a stop. But this we will consider further on : for the present we will take self-sufficing to mean what by itself makes life desirable and in want of nothing. And happiness is believed to answer to this description. And further, happiness is believed to be the most desirable thing in the world, and that not merely as one among other good things : if it were merely one among other good things [so that other things could be added to it], it is plain that the addition of the least of other goods must make it more desirable; for the addition becomes a surplus of good, and of two goods the greater is always more desirable. Thus it seems that happiness is something final and self-suf- ficing, and is the end of all that man does. But perhaps the reader thinks that though no one will dispute the statement that happiness is the best thing in the world, yet a still more precise definition of it is needed. 62 ARISTOTLE This will best be gained, I think, by asking. What is the func- tion of man? For as the goodness and the excellence of a piper or a sculptor, or the practiser of any art, and generally of those who have any function or business to do, lies in that function, so man’s good would seem to lie in his function, if he has one. But can we suppose that, while a carpenter or a cobbler has a function and a business of his own, man has no business and no function assigned him by nature? Nay, surely as his several members, eye and hand and foot, plainly have each his own function, so we must suppose that man also has some function over and above all these. What then is it? Life evidently he has in common even with the plants, but we want that which is peculiar to him. We must exclude, therefore, the life of mere nutrition and growth. Next to this comes the life of sense; but this too he plainly shares with horses and cattle and all kinds of animals. There remains then the life whereby he acts — the life of his rational nature, with its two sides or divisions, one rational as obeying reason, the other rational as having and exercising reason. But as this expression is ambiguous, we must be understood to mean thereby the life that consists in the exercise of the fac- ulties; for this seems to be more properly entitled to the name. The function of man, then, is exercise of his vital faculties [or soul] on one side in obedience to reason, and on the other side with reason. But what is called the function of a man of any profession and the function of a man who is good in that profession are generi- cally the same, e. g. of a harper and of a good harper; and this holds in all cases without exception, only that in the case of the latter his superior excellence at his work is added; for we say a harper’s function is to harp, and a good harper’s to harp well. (Man’s function then being, as we say, a kind of life — that is to say, exercise of his faculties and action of various kinds with reason — the good man’s function is to do this well and beauti- fully [or nobly]. But the function of anything is done well when it is done in accordance with the proper excellence of that thing.) THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 63 If this be so the result is that the good of man is exercise of his faculties in accordance with excellence or virtue, or, if there be more than one, in accordance with the best and most complete virtue. But there must also be a full term of years for this exercise; for one swallow or one fine day does not make a spring, nor does one day or any small space of time make a blessed or happy man. 13. Since happiness is an exercise of the vital faculties in ac- cordance with perfect virtue or excellence, we will now inquire about virtue or excellence; for this will probably help us in our inquiry about happiness. And indeed the true statesman seems to be especially concerned with virtue, for he wishes to make the citizens good and obedient to the laws. Of this we have an example in the Cretan and the Lacedaemonian lawgivers, and any others who have resembled them. But if the inquiry belongs to Politics or the science of the state, it is plain that it will be in accordance with our original purpose to pursue it. The virtue or excellence that we are to consider is, of course, the excellence of man ; for it is the good of man and the happiness of man that we started to seek. And by the excellence of man I mean excellence not of body, but of soul; for happiness we take to be an activity of the soul. If this be so, then it is evident that the statesman must have some knowledge of the soul, just as the man who is to heal the eye or the whole body must have some knowledge of them, and that the more in proportion as the science of the state is higher and better than medicine. But all educated physicians take much pains to know about the body. As statesmen [or students of Politics], then, we must inquire into the nature of the soul, but in so doing we must keep our special purpose in view and go only so far as that requires; for to go into minuter detail would be too laborious for the present undertaking. Now, there are certain doctrines about the soul which are stated elsewhere with sufficient precision, and these we will adopt. 6+ ARISTOTLE Two parts of the soul are distinguished, an irrational and a rational part. Whether these are separated as are the parts of the body or any divisible thing, or whether they are only distinguishable in thought but in fact inseparable, like concave and convex in the circumference of a circle, makes no difference for our present purpose. Of the irrational part, again, one division seems to be com- mon to aU things that live, and to be possessed by plants — I mean that which causes nutrition and growth; for we must as- sume that all things that take nourishment have a faculty of this kind, even when they are embryos, and have the same faculty when they are full grown; at least, this is more reasonable than to suppose that they then have a different one. The excellence of this faculty, then, is plainly one that man shares with other beings, and not specifically human. And this is confirmed by the fact that in sleep this part of the soul, or this faculty, is thought to be most active, while the good and the bad man are undistinguishable when they are asleep (whence the saying that for half their lives there is no difference between the happy and the miserable; which indeed is what we should expect; for sleep is the cessation of the soul from those functions in respect of which it is called good or bad), except that they are to some slight extent roused by what goes on in their bodies, with the result that the dreams of the good man are bet- ter than those of ordinary people. However, we need not pursue this further, and may dismiss the nutritive principle, since it has no place in the excellence of man. But there seems to be another vital principle that is irrational, and yet in some way partakes of reason. In the case of the continent and of the incontinent man alike we praise the reason or the rational part, for it exhorts them rightly and urges them to do what is best; but there is plainly present in them another principle besides the rational one, which fights and struggles against the reason. For just as a paralyzed limb, when you will to move it to the right, moves on the contrary to the left, so is it THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 65 with the soul ; the incontinent man’s impulses run counter to his reason. Only whereas we see the refractory member in the case of the body, we do not see it in the case of the soul. But we must nevertheless, I think, hold that in the soul too there is something beside the reason, which opposes and runs counter to it (though in what sense it is distinct from the reason does not matter here). It seems, however, to partake of reason also, as we said; at least, in the continent man it submits to the reason; while in the temperate and courageous man we may say it is still more obedi- ent; for in him it is altogether in harmony with the reason. The irrational part, then, it appears, is twofold. There is the vegetative faculty, which has no share of reason ; and the faculty of appetite or of desire in general, which in a manner partakes of reason or is rational as listening to reason and submitting to its sway, — rational in the sense in which we speak of rational obedience to father or friends, not in the sense in which we speak of rational apprehension of mathematical truths. But all advice and all rebuke and exhortation testify that the irrational part is in some way amenable to reason. If then we like to say that this part, too, has a share of reason, the rational part also will have two divisions : one rational in the strict sense as possessing reason in itself, the other rational as listening to reason as a man listens to his father. Now, on this division of the faculties is based the division of excellence; for we speak of intellectual excellences and of moral excellences; wisdom and understanding and prudence we call intellectual, liberality and temperance we call moral virtues or excellences. When we are speaking of a man’s moral character we do not say that he is wise or intelligent, but that he is gentle or temperate. But we praise the wise man, too, for his habit of mind or trained faculty; and a habit or trained faculty that is praiseworthy is what we call an excellence or virtue. BOOK IL MORAL VIRTUE I. Excellence, then, being of these two kinds, intellectual and moral, intellectual excellence owes its birth and growth mainly 66 ARISTOTLE to instruction, and so requires time and experience, while moral excellence is the result of habit or custom (e^os), and has ac- cordingly in our language received a name formed by a slight change from From this it is plain that none of the moral excellences or vir- tues is implanted in us by nature; for that which is by nature cannot be altered by training. For instance, a stone naturally tends to fall downwards, and you could not train it to rise up- wards, though you tried to do so by throwing it up ten thousand times, nor could you train fire to move downwards, nor accus- tom anything which naturally behaves in one way to behave in any other way. The virtues, then, come neither by nature nor against nature, but nature gives the capacity for acquiring them, and this is developed by training. Again, where we do things by nature we get the power first, and put this power forth in act afterwards : as we plainly see in the case of the senses; for it is not by constantly seeing and hear- ing that we acquire those faculties, but, on the contrary, we had the power first and then used it, instead of acquiring the power by the use. But the virtues we acquire by doing the acts, as is the case with the arts too. We learn an art by doing that which we wish to do when we have learned it; we become builders by building, and harpers by harping. And so by doing just acts we become just, and by doing acts of temperance and courage we become temperate and courageous. This is attested, too, by what occurs in states; for the legisla- tors make their citizens good by training; i. e. this is the wish of all legislators, and those who do not succeed in this miss their aim, and it is this that distinguishes a good from a bad consti- tution. Again, both the moral virtues and the corresponding vices re- sult from and are formed by the same acts; and this is the case with the arts also. It is by harping that good harpers and bad ’ 600!, custom; 7i6os, character; moral excellence: we have no similar sequence, but the Latin mos, mores, from which “morality” comes, covers both 600! and ^ 0 o! THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 67 harpers alike are produced: and so with builders and the rest; by building well they will become good builders, and bad builders by building badly. Indeed, if it were not so, they would not want anybody to teach them, but would all be born either good or bad at their trades. And it is just the same with the virtues also. It is by our conduct in our intercourse with other men that we become just or unjust, and by acting in circumstances of danger, and training ourselves to feel fear or confidence, that we become courageous or cowardly. So, too, with our animal appetites and the passion of anger; for by behaving in this way or in that on the occasions with which these passions are concerned, some be- come temperate and gentle, and others profligate and ill-tem- pered. In a word, acts of any kind produce habits or characters of the same kind. Hence we ought to make sure that our acts be of a certain kind ; for the resulting character varies as they vary. It makes no small difference, therefore, whether a man be trained from his youth up in this way or in that, but a great difference, or rather all the difference. 2. But our present inquiry has not, like the rest, a merely spec- ulative aim; we are not inquiring merely in order to know what excellence or virtue is, but in order to become good ; for otherwise it would profit us nothing. We must ask therefore about these acts, and see of what kind they are to be ; for, as we said, it is they that determine our habits or character. First of all, then, that they must be in accordance with right reason is a common characteristic of them, which we shall here take for granted, reserving for future discussion the question what this right reason is, and how it is related to the other ex- cellences. But let it be understood, before we go on, that all reasoning on matters of practice must be in outline merely, and not scientifi- cally exact : for, as we said at starting, the kind of reasoning to be demanded varies with the subject in hand; and in practical matters and questions of expediency there are no invariable laws, any more than in questions of health. And if our general conclusions are thus inexact, still more 68 ARISTOTLE inexact is all reasoning about particular cases; for these fall under no system of scientifically established rules or traditional max- ims, but the agent must always consider for himself what the special occasion requires, just as in medicine or navigation. But though this is the case we must try to render what help we can. First of all, then, we must observe that, in matters of this sort, to fall short and to exceed are alike fatal. This is plain (to illus- trate what we cannot see by what we can see) in the case of strength and health. Too much and too little exercise alike de- stroy strength, and to take too much meat and drink, or to take too little, is equally ruinous to health, but the fitting amount produces and increases and preserves them. Just so, then, is it with temperance also, and courage, and the other virtues. The man who shuns and fears everything and never makes a stand, becomes a coward; while the man who fears nothing at all, but will face anything, becomes foolhardy. So, too, the man who takes his fill of any kind of pleasure, and abstains from none, is a profligate, but the man who shuns all (like him whom we call a “boor”) is devoid of sensibility. Thus temperance and cour- age are destroyed both by excess and defect, but preserved by moderation. But habits or types of character are not only produced and preserved and destroyed by the same occasions and the same means, but they will also manifest themselves in the same cir- cumstances. This is the case with palpable things like strength. Strength is produced by taking plenty of nourishment and doing plenty of hard work, and the strong man, in turn, has the greatest capacity for these. And the case is the same with the virtues: by abstaining from pleasure we become temperate, and when we have become temperate we are best able to abstain. And so with courage : by habituating ourselves to despise danger, and to face it, we become courageous; and when we have become cour- ageous, we are best able to face danger. 5. We have next to inquire what excellence or virtue is. A quality of the soul is either (i) a passion or emotion, or (2) a power or faculty, or (3) a habit or trained faculty; and so vir- THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 69 tue must be one of these three. By (i) a passion or emotion we mean appetite, anger, fear, confidence, envy, joy, love, hate, longing, emulation, pity, or generally that which is accompanied by pleasure or pain; (2) a power or faculty is that in respect of which we are said to be capable of being affected in any of these ways, as, for instance, that in respect of which we are able to be angered or pained or to pity; and (3) a habit or trained faculty is that in respect of which we are well or ill regulated or disposed in the matter of our affections; as, for instance, in the matter of be- ing angered, we are ill regulated if we are too violent or too slack, but if we are moderate in our anger we are well regulated. And so with the rest. Now, the virtues are not emotions, nor are the vices: (i) be- cause we are not called good or bad in respect of our emotions but are called so in respect of our virtues or vices; (2) because we are neither praised nor blamed in respect of our emotions (a man is not praised for being afraid or angry, nor blamed for being angry simply, but for being angry in a particular way), but we are praised or blamed in respect of our virtues or vices ; (3) because we may be angered or frightened without deliberate choice, but the virtues are a kind of deliberate choice, or at least are impossible without it ; and (4) because in respect of our emo- tions we are said to be moved, but in respect of our virtues and vices we are not said to be moved, but to be regulated or disposed in this way or in that. For these same reasons also they are not powers or faculties; for we are not called either good or bad for being merely capable of emotion, nor are we either praised or blamed for this. And further, while nature gives us our powers or faculties, she does not make us either good or bad. (This point, however, we have already treated.) If, then, the virtues be neither emotions nor faculties, it only remains for them to be habits or trained faculties. 6. We have thus found the genus to which virtue belongs; but we want to know, not only that it is a trained faculty, but also what species of trained faculty it is. We may safely assert that the virtue or excellence of a thing 70 ARISTOTLE causes that thing both to be itself in good condition and to per- form its function well. The excellence of the eye, for instance, makes both the eye and its work good ; for it is by the excellence of the eye that we see well. So the proper excellence of the horse makes a horse what he should be, and makes him good at run- ning, and carrying his rider, and standing a charge. If, then, this holds good in all cases, the proper excellence or virtue of man will be the habit or trained faculty that makes a man good and makes him perform his function well. How this is to be done we have already said, but we may ex- hibit the same conclusion in another way, by inquiring what the nature of this virtue is. Now, if we have any quantity, whether continuous or discrete, it is possible to take either a larger [or too large], or a smaller [or too small], or an equal [or fair] amount, and that either ab- solutely or relatively to our own needs. By an equal or fair amount I understand a mean amount, or one that lies between excess and deficiency. By the absolute mean, or mean relatively to the thing itself, I understand that which is equidistant from both extremes, and this is one and the same for all. By the mean relatively to us I understand that which is neither too much nor too little for us; and this is not one and the same for all. For instance, if ten be larger [or too large] and two be smaller [or too small], if we take six we take the mean relatively to the thing itself [or the arithmetical mean]; for it exceeds one extreme by the same amount by which it is exceeded by the other extreme, and this is the mean in arithmetical proportion. But the mean relatively to us cannot be found in this way. If ten pounds of food is too much for a given man to eat, and two pounds too little, it does not follow that the trainer will order him six pounds: for that also may perhaps be too much for the man in question, or too little; too little for Milo, too much for the beginner. The same holds true in running and wrest- ling. And so we may say generally that a master in any art avoids THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 71 what is too much and what is too little, and seeks for the mean and chooses it — not the absolute but the relative mean. If, then, every art or science perfects its work in this way, look- ing to the mean and bringing its work up to this standard (so that people are wont to say of a good work that nothing could be taken from it or added to it, implying that excellence is destroyed by excess or deficiency, but secured by observing the mean ; and good artists, as we say, do in fact keep their eyes fixed on this in all that they do), and if virtue, like nature, is more exact and better than any art, it follows that virtue also mmst aim at the mean — virtue of course meaning moral virtue or excellence; for it has to do with passions and actions, and it is these that admit of excess and deficiency and the mean. For instance, it is possible to feel fear, confidence, desire, anger, pity, and generally to be affected pleasantly and painfully, either too much or too little, in either case wrongly; but to be thus affected at the right times, and on the right occasions, and towards the right persons, and with the right object, and in the right fashion, is the mean course and the best course, and these are characteristics of virtue. And in the same way our outward acts also admit of excess and defi- ciency, and the mean or due amount. Virtue, then, has to deal with feelings or passions and with outward acts, in which excess is wrong and deficiency also is blamed, but the mean amount is praised and is right — both of which are characteristics of virtue. Virtue, then, is a kind of moderation (/xecrrdrT;? rts-) , inasmuch as it aims at the mean or moderate amount (to /xeo-ov). Again, there are many ways of going wrong (for evil is infinite in nature, to use a Pythagorean figure, while good is finite), but only one way of going right ; so that the one is easy and the other hard — easy to miss the mark and hard to hit. On this account also, then, excess and deficiency are characteristic of vice, hitting the mean is characteristic of virtue : — Goodness is simple, ill takes any shape. Virtue, then, is a habit or trained faculty of choice, the char- acteristic of which lies in moderation or observance of the mean 72 ARISTOTLE relatively to the persons concerned, as determined by reason, i. e. by the reason by ■which the prudent man would determine it. And it is a moderation, firstly, inasmuch as it comes in the mid- dle or mean between two vices, one on the side of excess, the other on the side of defect; and, secondly, inasmuch as, while these vices fall short of or exceed the due measure in feeling and in action, it finds and chooses the mean, middling, or moderate amount. Regarded in its essence, therefore, or according to the defini- tion of its nature, virtue is a moderation or middle state, but viewed in its relation to what is best and right it is the extreme of perfection. But it is not all actions nor all passions that admit of modera- tion; there are some whose very names imply badness, as male- volence, shamelessness, envy, and, among acts, adultery, theft, murder. These and all other like things are blamed as being bad in themselves, and not merely in their excess or deficiency. It is impossible therefore to go right in them; they are always wrong : rightness and wrongness in such things {e. g. in adultery) does not depend upon whether it is the right person and occasion and manner, but the mere doing of any one of them is wrong. It would be equally absurd to look for moderation or excess or deficiency in unjust, cowardly, or profligate conduct; for then there would be moderation in excess or deficiency, and excess in excess, and deficiency in deficiency. The fact is that just as there can be no excess or deficiency in temperance or courage because the mean or moderate amount is, in a sense, an extreme, so in these kinds of conduct also there can be no moderation or excess or deficiency, but the acts are wrong however they be done. For, to put it generally, there can- not be moderation in excess or deficiency, nor excess or deficiency in moderation. 7. But it is not enough to make these general statements [about virtue and vice] : we must go on and apply them to particulars [f. e. to the several virtues and vices]. For in reasoning about matters of conduct general statements are too vague, and do not convey so much truth as particular propositions. It is with par- THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 73 ticulars that conduct is concerned: our statements, therefore, when applied to these particulars, should be found to hold good. These particulars then [f. e. the several virtues and vices and the several acts and affections with which they deal], we will take from the following table. Moderation in the feelings of fear and confidence is courage : of those that exceed, he that exceeds in fearlessness has no name (as often happens), but he that exceeds in confidence is foolhardy, while he that exceeds in fear, but is deficient in confidence, is cowardly. Moderation in respect of certain pleasures and also (though to a less extent) certain pains is temperance, while excess is profligacy. But defectiveness in the matter of these pleasures is hardly ever found, and so this sort of people also have as yet received no name: let us put them down as “void of sensibility.” In the matter of giving and taking money, moderation is liberality, excess and deficiency are prodigality and illiberality. But both vices exceed and fall short in giving and taking in con- trary ways : the prodigal exceeds in spending, but falls short in taking; while the illiberal man exceeds in taking, but falls short in spending. (For the present we are but giving an outline or summary, and aim at nothing more; we shall afterwards treat these points in greater detail.) But, besides these, there are other dispositions in the matter of money: there is a moderation which is called magnificence (for the magnificent is not the same as the liberal man: the former deals with large sums, the latter with small) , and an excess which is called bad taste or vulgarity, and a deficiency which is called meanness; and these vices differ from those which are opposed to liberality : how they differ will be explained later. With respect to honour and disgrace, there is a moderation which is high-mindedness, an excess which may be called vanity, and a deficiency which is little-mindedness. But just as we said that liberality is related to magnificence, differing only in that it deals with small sums, so here there is a virtue related to high-mindedness, and differing only in that it 74 ARISTOTLE is concerned with small instead of great honours. A man may have a due desire for honour, and also more or less than a due desire: he that carries this desire to excess is called ambitious, he that has not enough of it is called unambitious, but he that has the due amount has no name. There are also no abstract names for the characters, except “ambition,” corresponding to ambitious. And on this account those who occupy the extremes lay claim to the middle place. And in common parlance, too, the moderate man is sometimes called ambitious and sometimes un- ambitious, and sometimes the ambitious man is praised and sometimes the unambitious. Why this is we will explain after- wards; for the present we will follow out our plan and enumer- ate the other types of character. In the matter of anger also we find excess and deficiency and moderation. The characters themselves hardly have recognized names, but as the moderate man is here called gentle, we will call his character gentleness ; of those who go into extremes, we may take the term wrathful for him who exceeds, with wrathfulness for the vice, and wrathless for him who is deficient, with wrath- lessness for his character. Besides these, there are three kinds of moderation, bearing some resemblance to one another, and yet different. They all have to do with intercourse in speech and action, but they differ in that one has to do with the truthfulness of this intercourse, while the other two have to do with its pleasantness — one of the two with pleasantness in matters of amusement, the other with pleasantness in all the relations of life. We must therefore speak of these qualities also in order that we may the more plainly see how, in all cases, moderation is praiseworthy, while the extreme courses are neither right nor praiseworthy, but blamable. In these cases also names are for the most part wanting, but we must try, here as elsewhere, to coin names ourselves, in order to make our argument clear and easy to follow. In the matter of truth, then, let us call him who observes the mean a true [or truthful] person, and observance of the mean truth [or truthfulness]: pretence, when it exaggerates, may be THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 75 called boasting, and the person a boaster; when it understates, let the names be irony and ironical. With regard to pleasantness in amusement, he who observes the mean may be called witty, and his character wittiness ; excess may be called buffoonery, and the man a buffoon ; while boorish may stand for the person who is deficient, and boorishness for his character. With regard to pleasantness in the other affairs of life, he who makes himself properly pleasant may be called friendly, and his moderation friendliness; he that exceeds may be called obse- quious if he have no ulterior motive, but a flatterer if he has an eye to his own advantage; he that is deficient in this respect, and always makes himself disagreeable, may be called a quar- relsome or peevish fellow. Moreover, in mere emotions and in our conduct with regard to them, there are ways of observing the mean ; for instance shame (atScis) is not a virtue, but yet the modest {alSijjxoiv) man is praised. For in these matters also we speak of this man as ob- serving the mean, of that man as going beyond it (as the shame- faced man whom the least thing makes shy), while he who is deficient in the feeling, or lacks it altogether, is called shameless; but the term modest (alS-^ixoiv) is applied to him who observes the mean. Righteous indignation, again, hits the mean between envy and malevolence. These have to do with feelings of pleasure and pain at what happens to our neighbours. A man is called right- eously indignant when he feels pain at the sight of undeserved prosperity, but your envious man goes beyond him and is pained by the sight of any one in prosperity, while the malevolent man is so far from being pained that he actually exults in the misfor- tunes of his neighbours. But we shall have another opportunity of discussing these matters. As for justice, the term is used in more senses than one; we will, therefore, after disposing of the above questions, distinguish these various senses, and show how each of these kinds of justice is a kind of moderation. ;6 ARISTOTLE And then we will treat of the intellectual virtues in the same way. 8. There are, as we said, three classes of disposition, viz. two kinds of vice, one marked by excess, the other by deficiency, and one kind of virtue, the observance of the mean. Now, each is in a way opposed to each, for the extreme dispositions are opposed both to the mean or moderate disposition and to one another, while the moderate disposition is opposed to both the extremes. Just as a quantity which is equal to a given quantity is also greater when compared with a less, and less when compared with a greater quantity, so the mean or moderate dispositions exceed as compared with the defective dispositions, and fall short as compared with the excessive dispositions, both in feeling and in action; e, g. the courageous man seems foolhardy as compared with the coward, and cowardly as compared with the foolhardy ; and similarly the temperate man appears profligate in compari- son with the insensible, and insensible in comparison with the profligate man; and the liberal man appears prodigal by the side of the illiberal man, and illiberal by the side of the prodigal man. And so the extreme characters try to displace the mean or moderate character, and each represents him as falling into the opposite extreme, the coward calling the courageous man fool- hardy, the foolhardy calling him coward, and so on in other cases. But while the mean and the extremes are thus opposed to one another, the extremes are strictly contrary to each other rather than to the mean ; for they are further removed from one another than from the mean, as that which is greater than a given mag- nitude is further from that which is less, and that which is less is further from that which is greater, than either the greater or the less is from that which is equal to the given magnitude. Sometimes, again, an extreme, when compared with the mean, has a sort of resemblance to it, as foolhardiness to courage, or prodigality to liberality; but there is the greatest possible dis- similarity between the extremes. Again, “things that are as far as possible removed from each other” is the accepted definition of contraries, so that the further things are removed from each other the more contrary they are. THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 77 In comparison with the mean, however, it is sometimes the deficiency that is the more opposed, and sometimes the excess; e. g. foolhardiness, which is excess, is not so much opposed to courage as cowardice, which is deficiency; but insensibility, which is lack of feeling, is not so much opposed to temperance as profligacy, which is excess. The reasons for this are two. One is the reason derived from the nature of the matter itself : since one extreme is, in fact, nearer and more similar to the mean, we naturally do not oppose it to the mean so strongly as the other; e. g. as foolhardiness seems more similar to courage and nearer to it, and cowardice more dis- similar, we speak of cowardice as the opposite rather than the other: for that which is further removed from the mean seems to be more opposed to it. This, then, is one reason, derived from the nature of the thing itself. Another reason lies in ourselves : and it is this — those things to which we happen to be more prone by nature appear to be more opposed to the mean : e. g. our natural inclination is rather towards indulgence in pleasure, and so we more easily fall into profligate than into regular habits : those courses, then, on which we are more apt to run to great lengths are spoken of as more opposed to the mean; and thus profligacy, which is an ex- cess, is more opposed to temperance than the deficiency is. 9. We have sufficiently explained, then, that moral virtue is moderation or observance of the mean, and in what sense, viz. (t) as holding a middle position between two vices, one on the side of excess, and the other on the side of deficiency, and (2) as aiming at the mean or moderate amount both in feeling and in action. And on this account it is a hard thing to be good; for finding the middle or the mean in each case is a hard thing, just as find- ing the middle or centre of a circle is a thing that is not within the power of everybody, but only of him who has the requisite knowledge. Thus any one can be angry — that is quite easy ; any one can give money away or spend it ; but to do these things to the right person, to the right extent, at the right time, with the right object. ARISTOTLE 78 and in the right manner, is not what everybody can do, and is by no means easy; and that is the reason why right doing is rare and praiseworthy and noble. He that aims at the mean, then, should first of all strive to avoid that extreme which is more opposed to it, as Calypso' bids Ulysses — Clear of these smoking breakers keep thy ship. For of the extremes one is more dangerous, the other less. Since then it is hard to hit the mean precisely, we must “row when we cannot sail,” as the proverb has it, and choose the least of two evils; and that will be best effected in the way we have described. And secondly we must consider, each for himself, what we are most prone to — for different natures are inclined to different things — which we may learn by the pleasure or pain we feel. And then we must bend ourselves in the opposite direction; for by keeping well away from error we shall fall into the middle course, as we straighten a bent stick by bending it the other way. But in all cases we must be especially on our guard against pleasant things, and against pleasure; for we can scarce judge her impartially. And so, in our behaviour towards her, we should imitate the behaviour of the old counsellors towards Helen,^ and in all cases repeat their saying: if we dismiss her we shall be less likely to go wrong. This then, in outline, is the course by which we shall best be able to hit the mean. But ’it is a hard task, we must admit, especially in a particular case. It is not easy to determine, for instance, how and with whom one ought to be angry, and upon what grounds, and for how' long; for public opinion sometimes praises those who fall short, and calls them gentle, and sometimes applies the term manly to those who show a harsh temper. In fact, a slight error, whether on the side of excess or defi- ciency, is not blamed, but only a considerable error; for then there can be no mistake. But it is hardly possible to determine by reasoning how far or to what extent a man must err in order ^ Homer’s Odyssey, xii. loi-iio, and 219-220: Calypso should be Circe. ^ Homer's Iliad, ill. 154-164. THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 79 to incur blame; and indeed matters that fall within the scope of perception never can be so determined. Such matters lie within the region of particulars, and can only be determined by per- ception. So much then is plain, that the middle character is in all cases to be praised, but that we ought to incline sometimes towards excess, sometimes towards deficiency; for in this way we shall most easily hit the mean and attain to right doing. BOOK III. THE WILL VIRTUE AND VICE VOLUNTARY 4. Wish, we have already said, is for the end; but whereas some hold that the object of wish is the good, others hold that it is what seems good. Those who maintain that the object of wish is the good have to admit that what those wish for who choose wrongly is not ob- ject of wish (for if so it would be good; but it may so happen that it was bad) ; on the other hand, those who maintain that the ob- ject of wish is what seems good have to admit that there is no- thing which is naturally object of wish, but that each wishes for what seems good to him — different and even contrary things seeming good to different people. As neither of these alternatives quite satisfies us, perhaps we had better say that the good is the real object of wish (without any qualifying epithet), but that what seems good is object of wish to each man. The good man, then, wishes for the real ob- ject of wish; but what the bad man wishes for may be anything whatever; just as, with regard to the body, those who are in good condition find those things healthy that are really healthy, while those who are diseased find other things healthy (and it is just the same with things bitter, sweet, hot, heavy, etc.) : for the good or ideal man judges each case correctly, and in each case what is true seems true to him. For, corresponding to each of our trained faculties, there is a special form of the noble and the pleasant, and perhaps there is 8o ARISTOTLE nothing so distinctive of the good or ideal man as the power he has of discerning these special forms in each case, being himself, as it were, their standard and measure. What misleads people seems to be in most cases pleasure; it seems to be a good thing, even when it is not. So they choose what is pleasant as good, and shun pain as evil. 5. We have seen that, while we wish for the end, we deliberate upon and choose the means thereto. Actions that are concerned with means, then, will be guided by choice, and so will be voluntary. But the acts in which the virtues are manifested are concerned with means. Therefore virtue depends upon ourselves; and vice likewise. For where it lies with us to do, it lies with us not to do. Where we can say no, we can say yes. If then the doing a deed, which is noble, lies with us, the not doing it, which is disgraceful, lies with us; and if the not doing, which is noble, lies with us, the doing, which is disgraceful, also lies with us. But if the doing and like- wise the not doing of noble or base deeds lies with us, and if this is, as we found, identical with being good or bad, then it follows that it lies with us to be worthy or worthless men. And so the saying — None would be wicked, none would not be blessed, seems partly false and partly true ; no one indeed is blessed against his will; but vice is voluntary. If we deny this, we must dispute the statements made just now, and must contend that man is not the originator and the parent of his actions, as of his children. But if those statements commend themselves to us, and if we are unable to trace our acts to any other sources than those that depend upon ourselves, then that whose source is within us must itself depend upon us and be voluntary. This seems to be attested, moreover, by each one of us in pri- vate life, and also by the legislators; for they correct and punish those that do evil (except when it is done under compulsion, or through ignorance for which the agent is not responsible), and THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 8i honour those that do noble deeds, evidently intending to encour- age the one sort and discourage the other. But no one encourages us to do that which does not depend on ourselves, and which is not voluntary : it would be useless to be persuaded not to feel heat or pain or hunger and so on, as we should feel them all the same. I say “ignorance for which the agent is not responsible,” for the ignorance itself is punished by the law, if the agent appear to be responsible for his ignorance, e. g. for an offence committed in a fit of drunkenness the penalty is doubled : for the origin of the offence lies in the man himself; he might have avoided the intoxication, which was the cause of his ignorance. Again, igno- rance of any of the ordinances of the law, which a man ought to know and easily can know, does not avert punishment. And so in other cases, where ignorance seems to be the result of negligence, the offender is punished, since it lay with him to remove this ignorance; for he might have taken the requisite trouble. It may be objected that it was the man’s character not to take the trouble. We reply that men are themselves responsible for acquiring such a character by a dissolute life, and for being unjust or pro- fligate in consequence of repeated acts of wrong, or of spending their time in drinking and so on. For it is repeated acts of a par- ticular kind that give a man a particular character. This is shown by the way in which men train themselves for any kind of contest or performance; they practise continually. Not to know, then, that repeated acts of this or that kind pro- duce a corresponding character or habit, shows an utter want of sense. Moreover, it is absurd to say that he who acts unjustly does not wdsh to be unjust, or that he who behaves profli- gately does not wish to be profligate. But if a man knowingly does acts which must make him un- just, he will be voluntarily unjust; though it does not follow that, if he wishes it, he can cease to be unjust and be just, any more than he who is sick can, if he wishes it, be whole. And it may be that he is voluntarily sick, through living incontinently and disobeying the doctor. At one time, then, he had the option Si ARISTOTLE not to be sick, but he no longer has it now that he has thrown away his health. When you have discharged a stone it is no longer in your power to call it back,; but nevertheless the throw- ing and casting away of that stone rests with you; for the be- ginning of its flight depended upon you. Just so the unjust or the profligate man at the beginning was free not to acquire this character, and therefore he is voluntarily unjust or profligate; but now that he has acquired it, he is no longer free to put it off. But it is not only our mental or moral vices that are voluntary; bodily vices also are sometimes voluntary, and then are censured. We do not censure natural ugliness, but we do censure that which is due to negligence and want of exercise. And so with weakness and infirmity: we should never reproach a man who was born blind, or had lost his sight in an illness or by a blow — we should rather pity him; but we should all censure a man who had blinded himself by excessive drinking or any other kind of profligacy. We see, then, that of the vices of the body it is those that depend on ourselves that are censured, while those that do not depend on ourselves are not censured. And if this be so, then in other fields also those vices that are blamed must depend upon ourselves. Some people may perhaps object to this. “All men,” they may say, “desire that which appears good to them, but cannot control this appearance; a man’s character, whatever it be, decides what shall appear to him to be the end.” If, I answer, each man be in some way responsible for his habits or character, then in some way he must be responsible for this appearance also. But if this be not the case, then a man is not responsible for, or is not the cause of, his own evil doing, but it is through igno- rance of the end that he does evil, fancying that thereby he will secure the greatest good : and the striving towards the true end does not depend on our own choice, but a man must be born with a gift of sight, so to speak, if he is to discriminate rightly and to choose what is really good : and he is truly well born who is by nature richly endowed with this gift; for, as it is the greatest and THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 83 the fairest gift, which we cannot acquire or learn from another, but must keep all our lives just as nature gave it to us, to be w'ell and nobly born in this respect is to be well born in the truest and completest sense. Now, granting this to be true, how will virtue be any more voluntary than vice? For whether it be nature or anything else that determines what shall appear to be the end, it is determined in the same way for both alike, for the good man as for the bad, and both alike refer all their acts of whatever kind to it. And so whether w^e hold that it is not merely nature that de- cides what appears' to each to be the end (whatever that be), but that the man himself contributes something; or whether we hold that the end is fixed by nature, but that virtue is voluntary, inas- much as the good man voluntarily takes the steps to that end — in either case vice will be just as voluntary as virtue; for self is active in the bad man just as much as in the good man, in choos- ing the particular acts at least, if not in determining the end. If then, as is generally allowed, the virtues are voluntary (for we do, in fact, in some way help to make our character, and, by being of a certain character, give a certain complexion to our idea of the end) , the vices also mrust be voluntary ; for all this applies equally to them. We have thus described in outlfne the' nature of the virtues in general, and have said that they are forms of moderation or modes of observing the mean, and that they are habits or trained facul- ties, and that they show themselves in the performance of the same acts which produce them, and that they depend on our- selves and are voluntary, and that they follow the guidance of right reason. But our particular acts are not voluntary in the same sense as our habits : for we are masters of our acts from beginning to end when we know the particular circumstances; but we are masters of the beginnings only of our habits or char- acters, while their growth by gradual steps is imperceptible, like the growth of disease. Inasmuch, however, as it lay with us to employ or not to employ our faculties in this way, the resulting characters are on that account voluntary. 84 ARISTOTLE BOOK VI. THE INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES 1. The virtues or excellences of the mind or soul, it will be re- membered, we divided into two classes, and called the one moral and the other intellectual. The moral excellences or virtues we have already discussed in detail; let us now examine the other class, the intellectual excellences, after some preliminary remarks about the soul. We said before that the soul consists of two parts, the rational and the irrational part. We will now make a similar division of the former, and will assume that there are two rational faculties : (i) that by which we know those things that depend on invariable principles, (2) that by which we know those things that are vari- able. For to generically different objects must correspond gen- erically different faculties, if, as we hold, it is in virtue of some kind of likeness or kinship with their objects that our faculties are able to know them. Let us call the former the scientific or demonstrative, the latter the calculative or deliberative faculty. For to deliberate is the same as to calculate, and no one deliberates about things that are invariable. One division then of the rational faculty may be fairly called the calculative faculty. Our problem, then, is to find what each of these faculties be- comes in its full development, or in its best state; for that will be its excellence or virtue. But its excellence will bear direct reference to its proper func- tion. 2. Now, the faculties which guide us in action and in the ap- prehension* of truth are three : sense, reason,^ and desire. The first of these cannot originate action, as we see from the fact that brutes have sense but are incapable of action. If we take the other two we find two modes of reasoning, viz. affirmation and negation [or assent and denial], and two cor- responding modes of desire, viz. pursuit and avoidance [or at- traction and repulsion]. ' vovs : the word is used here in its widest sense. THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 85 Now, moral virtue is a habit or formed faculty of choice or purpose, and purpose is desire following upon deliberation. It follows, then, that if the purpose is to be all it should be, both the calculation or reasoning must be true and the desire right, and that the very same things must be assented tc by the former and pursued by the latter. This kind of reasoning, then, and this sort of truth has to do with action. But speculative reasoning that has to do neither with action nor production is good or bad according as it is true or false sim- ply : for the function of the intellect is always the apprehension of truth; but the function of the practical intellect is the appre- hension of truth in agreement with right desire. Purpose, then, is the cause — not the final but the efficient cause or origin — of action, and the origin of purpose is desire and calculation of means; so that purpose necessarily implies on the one hand the faculty of reason and its exercise, and on the other hand a certain moral character or state of the desires; for right action and the contrary kind of action are alike impossible without both reasoning and moral character. Mere reasoning, however, can never set anything going, but only reasoning about means to an end — what may be called practical reasoning (which practical reasoning also regulates production ; for in making anything you always have an ulterior object in view — what you make is desired not as an end in itself, but only as a means to, or a condition of, something else; but what you do is an end in itself, for well-doing or right action is the end, and this is the object of desire). Purpose, then, may be called either a reason that desires, or a desire that reasons; and this faculty of originating action con- stitutes a man. No past event can be purposed ; e. g. no one purposes to have sacked Troy; for no one deliberates about that which is past, but about that which is to come, and which is variable: but the past cannot be undone; so that Agathon is right when he says : — This thing alone not God himself can do — To make undone that which hath once been done. 86 ARISTOTLE We have thus found that both divisions of the reason, or both the intellectual faculties, have the attainment of truth for their function ; that developed state of each, then, in which it best at- tains truth will be its excellence or virtue. 3. Let us describe these virtues then, starting afresh from the beginning. Let us assume that the modes in which the mind arrives at truth, either in the way of affirmation or negation, are five in number, viz. art, science, prudence, wisdom, reason;^ for con- ception and opinion may be erroneous. What science is we may learn from the following considera- tions (for we want a precise account, and must not content our- selves with metaphors). We all suppose that what we know with scientific knowledge is invariable; but of that which is variable we cannot say, so soon as it is out of sight, whether it is in ex- istence or not. The object of science, then, is necessary. There- fore it is eternal ; for whatever is of its own nature necessary is eternal: and what is eternal neither begins nor ceases to be. Further, it is held that all science can be taught, and that what can be known in the way of science can be learnt. But all teach- ing starts from something already known, as we have explained in the Analytics; for it proceeds either by induction or by syllo- gism. Now, it IS induction that leads the learner up to universal principles, while syllogism starts from these. There are princi- ples, then, from which syllogism starts, which are not arrived at by syllogism, and which, therefore, must be arrived at by induc- tion.^ Science, then, may be defined as a habit or formed faculty of demonstration, with all the further qualifications which are enumerated in the Analytics. It is necessary to add this, because it is only when the principles of our knowledge are accepted and known to us in a particular way, that we can properly be said to have scientific knowledge; for unless these principles are better * vovs — used now in a narrower special sense which will presently be ex- plained. ^ Though, as we see later, induction can elicit them from experience only because they are already latent in that experience. THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 87 known to us than the conclusions based upon them, our know- ledge will be merely accidental. This, then, may be taken as our account of science. 4. That which is variable includes that which man makes and that which man does; but making or production is different from doing or action (here we adopt the popular distinctions). The habit or formed faculty of acting with reason or calculation, then, is different from the formed faculty of producing with reason or calculation. And so the one cannot include the other ; for action is not production, nor is production action. Now, the builder’s faculty is one of the arts, and may be de- scribed as a certain formed faculty of producing with calculation ; and there is no art which is not a faculty of this kind, nor is there any faculty of this kind which is not an art : an art, then, is the same thing as a formed faculty of producing with correct calcu- lation. And every art is concerned with bringing something into being, i. e, with contriving or calculating how to bring into being some one of those things that can either be or not be, and the cause of whose production lies in the producer, not in the thing itself which is produced. For art has not to do with that which is or comes into being of necessity, nor with the products of nature; for these have the cause of their production in themselves. Production and action being different, art of course has to do with production, and not with action. And, in a certain sense, its domain is the same as that of chance or fortune, as Agathon says : — Art waits on fortune, fortune waits on art. Art, then, as we said, is a certain formed faculty or habit of production with correct reasoning or calculation, and the contrary of this {oT^xvl-o) is a habit of production with incorrect calcula- tion, the field of both being that which is variable. 5. In order to ascertain what prudence is, we will first ask who they are whom we call prudent. It seems to be characteristic of a prudent man that he is able ^ We may know truths of science, but unless we know these in their necessary connection, we have not scientific knowledge. 88 ARISTOTLE to deliberate well about what is good or expedient for himself, not with a view to some particular end, such as health or strength, but with a view to well-being or living well. This is confirmed by the fact that we apply the name sometimes to those who deliberate well in some particular field, when they calculate well the means to some particular good end, in matters that do not fall within the sphere of art. So we may say, gen- erally, that a man who can deliberate well is prudent. But no one deliberates about that which cannot be altered, nor about that which it is not in his power to do. Now science, we saw, implies demonstration; but things whose principles or causes are variable do not admit of demonstration; for everything that depends upon these principles or causes is also variable; and, on the other hand, things that are necessarily de- termined do not admit of deliberation. It follows, therefore, that prudence cannot be either a science or an art: it cannot be a sci- ence, because the sphere of action is that which is alterable; it cannot be an art, because production is generically different from action. It follows from all this that prudence is a formed faculty that apprehends truth by reasoning or calculation, and issues in ac- tion, in the domain of human good and ill; for while production has another end than itself, this is not so with action, since good action or well doing is itself the end. For this reason Pericles and men who resemble him are con- sidered prudent, because they are able to see what is good for themselves and for men; and this we take to be the character of those who are able to manage a household or a state. This, too, is tha reason why we call temperance a-wc^poc-vvr], sig- nifying thereby that it is the virtue which preserves prudence. But what temperance preserves is '"his particular kind of judg- ment. For it is not any kind of judgment that is destroyed or per- verted by the presentation of pleasant or painful objects (not such a judgment, for instance, as that the angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles), but only judgments about matters of prac- tice. For the principles of practice [or the causes which originate action] are the ends for the sake of which acts are done; but when THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 89 a man is corrupted by pleasure or pain, he straightway loses sight of the principle, and no longer sees that this is the end for the sake of which, and as a means to which, each particular act should be chosen and done; for vice is apt to obliterate the principle. Our conclusion then is that prudence is a formed faculty which apprehends truth by reasoning or calculation, and issues in ac- tion, in the field of human good. Moreover, art [or the artistic faculty] has its excellence [or perfect development] in something other than itself, but this is not so with prudence. Again, in the domain of art voluntary error is not so bad as involuntary, but it is worse in the case of prudence, as it is in the case of all the virtues or excellences. It is plain, then, that prudence is a virtue or excellence, and not an art. And the rational parts of the soul or the intellectual faculties being two in number, prudence will be the virtue of the second, [the calculative part or] the faculty of opinion ; for opinion deals with that which is variable, and so does prudence. But it is something more than “a formed faculty of apprehend- ing truth by reasoning or calculation;” as we see from the fact that such a faculty may be lost, but prudence, once acquired, can never be lost. 6. Science is a mode of judging that deals with universal and necessary truths; but truths that can be demonstrated depend upon principles, and (since science proceeds by demonstrative reasoning) every science has its principles. The principles, then, on which the truths of science depend cannot fall within the pro- vince of science, nor yet of art or prudence ; for a scientific truth is one that can be demonstrated, but art and prudence have to do with that which is variable. Nor can they fall within the province of wisdom; for it is char- acteristic of the wise man to have a demonstrative knowledge of certain things. But the habits of mind or formed faculties by which we ap- prehend truth without any mixture of error, whether in the do- main of things invariable or in the domain of things variable, are science, prudence, wisdom, and reason. If then no one of the 90 ARISTOTLE first three (prudence, science, wisdom) can be the faculty which apprehends these principles, the only possible conclusion is that they are apprehended by reason. 7. The term o-o<^t'u (wisdom)' is sometimes applied in the domain of the arts to those who are consummate masters of their art; e. g. it is applied to Phidias as a master of sculpture, and to Polyclitus for his skill in portrait-statues; and in this application it means nothing else than excellence of art or perfect development of the artistic faculty. But there are also men who are considered wise, not in part nor in any particular thing (as Homer says in the Margites, — Him the gods gave no skill with spade or plough, Nor made him wise in aught), but generally wise. In this general sense, then, wisdom plainly will be the most perfect of the sciences. The wise man, then, must not only know what follows from the principles of knowledge, but also know the truth about those principles. Wisdom, therefore, will be the union of [intuitive] reason with [demonstrative] scientific knowledge, or scientific knowledge of the noblest objects with its crowning perfection, so to speak, added to it. For it would be absurd to suppose that the political faculty or prudence is the highest of our faculties, unless indeed man is the best of all things in the universe. Now, as the terms wholesome and good mean one thing in the case of men and another in the case of fishes, while white and straight always have the same meaning, we must all allow that wise means one thing always, while prudent means different things; for we should all say that those who are clear-sighted in their own affairs are prudent, and deem them fit to be entrusted with those affairs. (And for this reason we sometimes apply the term prudent even to animals, when they show a faculty of fore- sight in what concerns their own life.) Moreover, it is plain that wisdom cannot be the same as states- manship. If we apply the term wisdom to knowledge of wTat is advantageous to ourselves, there will be many kinds of wisdom; * Of course we do not use “ wisdom ” in this sense. THE NICOMACHEAN ETHICS 91 for the knowledge of what is good will not be one and the same for all animals, but different for each species. It can no more be one than the art of healing can be one and the same for all kinds of living things. Man may be superior to all other animals, but that will not make any difference here; for there are other things of a far diviner nature than man, as — to take the most conspicuous instance — the heavenly bodies. It is plain, then, after what we have said, that wisdom is the union of scientific [or demonstrative] knowledge and [intuitive] reason about objects of the noblest nature. And on this account people call Anaxagoras and Thales and men of that sort wise, but not prudent, seeing them to be ignorant of their own advantage; and say that their knowledge is some- thing out of the common, wonderful, hard of attainment, nay superhuman, but useless, since it is no human good that they seek. Prudence, on the other hand, deals with human affairs, and with matters that admit of deliberation: for the prudent man’s special function, as we conceive it, is to deliberate well; but-no one deliberates about what is invariable, or about matters in which there is not some end, in the sense of some realizable good. But a man is said to deliberate well (without any qualifying epithet) when he is able, by a process of reasoning or calculation, to arrive at what is best for man in matters of practice. Prudence, moreover, does not deal in general propositions only, but implies knowledge of particular facts also; for it issues in action, and the field of action is the field of particulars. This is the reason why some men that lack [scientific] know- ledge are more efficient in practice than others that have it, espe- cially men of wide experience; for if you know that light meat is digestible and wholesome, but do not know what meats are light, you will not be able to cure people so well as a man who only knows that chicken is light and wholesome. But prudence is concerned with practice; so that it needs know- ledge both of general truths and of particular facts, but more especially the latter. ZENO (356-264) From DIOGENES LAERTIUS’ LIVES AND OPINIONS OF EMINENT PHILOSOPHERS Translated from the Greek * by CHARLES D. YONGE BOOK VII. THE ETHICS OF THE STOICS LI. The ethical part of philosophy they [the Stoics] divide into the topic of inclination, the topic of good and bad, the topic of the passions, the topic of virtue, the topic of the chief good, and of primary estimation, and of actions; the topic of what things are becoming, and of exhortation and dissuasion. And this division is the one laid down by Chrysippus, and Archedemus, and Zeno of Tarsus, and Apollodorus, and Diogenes, and Antipater, and Posidonius. For Zeno of Cittium and Cleanthes have, as being more ancient they were likely to, adopted a more simple method of treating these subjects. But these men made a division into logic and natural philosophy. LII. They say that the first inclination which an animal has is to protect itself, as nature brings herself to take an interest in it from the beginning, as Chrysippus affirms in the first book of his treatise on Ends; where he says, that the first and dearest object to every animal is its own existence, and its consciousness of that existence. For that it is not natural for any animal to be alienated from itself, or even to be brought into such a state as to be indif- ferent to itself, being neither alienated from nor interested in it- self. It remains, therefore, that v/e must assert that nature has bound the animal to itself by the greatest unanimity and affec- * From Aioyevovs Aaeprlov -irepl filov, Zaypaucv, koX a.Tro’pBeypdTwv twv tv