Nicomachean
Ethics
Aristotle
Translated by W. D. Ross
Batoche Books
Kitchener
1999
Contents
BOOK I ....................................................................... 3
BOOK II ................................................................... 20
BOOK III .................................................................. 33
BOOK IV .................................................................. 53
BOOK V ................................................................... 71
BOOK VI .................................................................. 91
BOOK VII............................................................... 105
BOOK VIII ............................................................. 127
BOOK IX ................................................................ 145
BOOK X ................................................................. 163
BOOK I
1
Every art and every inquiry, and similarly every action and pursuit, is
thought to aim at some good; and for this reason the good has rightly
been declared to be that at which all things aim. But a certain difference
is found among ends; some are activities, others are products apart from
the activities that produce them. Where there are ends apart from the
actions, it is the nature of the products to be better than the activities.
Now, as there are many actions, arts, and sciences, their ends also are
many; the end of the medical art is health, that of shipbuilding a vessel,
that of strategy victory, that of economics wealth. But where such arts
fall under a single capacity—as bridle-making and the other arts concerned with the equipment of horses fall under the art of riding, and this
and every military action under strategy, in the same way other arts fall
under yet others—in all of these the ends of the master arts are to be
preferred to all the subordinate ends; for it is for the sake of the former
that the latter are pursued. It makes no difference whether the activities
themselves are the ends of the actions, or something else apart from the
activities, as in the case of the sciences just mentioned.
2
If, then, there is some end of the things we do, which we desire for its
own sake (everything else being desired for the sake of this), and if we
do not choose everything for the sake of something else (for at that rate
the process would go on to infinity, so that our desire would be empty
and vain), clearly this must be the good and the chief good. Will not the
knowledge of it, then, have a great influence on life? Shall we not, like
4/Aristotle
archers who have a mark to aim at, be more likely to hit upon what is
right? If so, we must try, in outline at least, to determine what it is, and
of which of the sciences or capacities it is the object. It would seem to
belong to the most authoritative art and that which is most truly the
master art. And politics appears to be of this nature; for it is this that
ordains which of the sciences should be studied in a state, and which
each class of citizens should learn and up to what point they should
learn them; and we see even the most highly esteemed of capacities to
fall under this, e.g., strategy, economics, rhetoric; now, since politics
uses the rest of the sciences, and since, again, it legislates as to what we
are to do and what we are to abstain from, the end of this science must
include those of the others, so that this end must be the good for man.
For even if the end is the same for a single man and for a state, that of
the state seems at all events something greater and more complete whether
to attain or to preserve; though it is worth while to attain the end merely
for one man, it is finer and more godlike to attain it for a nation or for
city-states. These, then, are the ends at which our inquiry aims, since it
is political science, in one sense of that term.
3
Our discussion will be adequate if it has as much clearness as the subject-matter admits of, for precision is not to be sought for alike in all
discussions, any more than in all the products of the crafts. Now fine
and just actions, which political science investigates, admit of much
variety and fluctuation of opinion, so that they may be thought to exist
only by convention, and not by nature. And goods also give rise to a
similar fluctuation because they bring harm to many people; for before
now men have been undone by reason of their wealth, and others by
reason of their courage. We must be content, then, in speaking of such
subjects and with such premisses to indicate the truth roughly and in
outline, and in speaking about things which are only for the most part
true and with premisses of the same kind to reach conclusions that are
no better. In the same spirit, therefore, should each type of statement be
received; for it is the mark of an educated man to look for precision in
each class of things just so far as the nature of the subject admits; it is
evidently equally foolish to accept probable reasoning from a mathematician and to demand from a rhetorician scientific proofs.
Now each man judges well the things he knows, and of these he is a
good judge. And so the man who has been educated in a subject is a
Nicomachean Ethics/5
good judge of that subject, and the man who has received an all-round
education is a good judge in general. Hence a young man is not a proper
hearer of lectures on political science; for he is inexperienced in the
actions that occur in life, but its discussions start from these and are
about these; and, further, since he tends to follow his passions, his study
will be vain and unprofitable, because the end aimed at is not knowledge
but action. And it makes no difference whether he is young in years or
youthful in character; the defect does not depend on time, but on his
living, and pursuing each successive object, as passion directs. For to
such persons, as to the incontinent, knowledge brings no profit; but to
those who desire and act in accordance with a rational principle knowledge about such matters will be of great benefit.
These remarks about the student, the sort of treatment to be expected, and the purpose of the inquiry, may be taken as our preface.
4
Let us resume our inquiry and state, in view of the fact that all knowledge and every pursuit aims at some good, what it is that we say political science aims at and what is the highest of all goods achievable by
action. Verbally there is very general agreement; for both the general
run of men and people of superior refinement say that it is happiness,
and identify living well and doing well with being happy; but with regard to what happiness is they differ, and the many do not give the same
account as the wise. For the former think it is some plain and obvious
thing, like pleasure, wealth, or honour; they differ, however, from one
another—and often even the same man identifies it with different things,
with health when he is ill, with wealth when he is poor; but, conscious of
their ignorance, they admire those who proclaim some great ideal that is
above their comprehension. Now some thought that apart from these
many goods there is another which is self-subsistent and causes the goodness of all these as well. To examine all the opinions that have been held
were perhaps somewhat fruitless; enough to examine those that are most
prevalent or that seem to be arguable.
Let us not fail to notice, however, that there is a difference between
arguments from and those to the first principles. For Plato, too, was
right in raising this question and asking, as he used to do, ‘are we on the
way from or to the first principles?’ There is a difference, as there is in
a race-course between the course from the judges to the turning-point
and the way back. For, while we must begin with what is known, things
6/Aristotle
are objects of knowledge in two senses—some to us, some without qualification. Presumably, then, we must begin with things known to us.
Hence any one who is to listen intelligently to lectures about what is
noble and just, and generally, about the subjects of political science
must have been brought up in good habits. For the fact is the startingpoint, and if this is sufficiently plain to him, he will not at the start need
the reason as well; and the man who has been well brought up has or can
easily get starting-points. And as for him who neither has nor can get
them, let him hear the words of Hesiod:
Far best is he who knows all things himself;
Good, he that hearkens when men counsel right;
But he who neither knows, nor lays to heart
Another’s wisdom, is a useless wight.
5
Let us, however, resume our discussion from the point at which we
digressed. To judge from the lives that men lead, most men, and men of
the most vulgar type, seem (not without some ground) to identify the
good, or happiness, with pleasure; which is the reason why they love the
life of enjoyment. For there are, we may say, three prominent types of
life—that just mentioned, the political, and thirdly the contemplative
life. Now the mass of mankind are evidently quite slavish in their tastes,
preferring a life suitable to beasts, but they get some ground for their
view from the fact that many of those in high places share the tastes of
Sardanapallus. A consideration of the prominent types of life shows
that people of superior refinement and of active disposition identify happiness with honour; for this is, roughly speaking, the end of the political
life. But it seems too superficial to be what we are looking for, since it is
thought to depend on those who bestow honour rather than on him who
receives it, but the good we divine to be something proper to a man and
not easily taken from him. Further, men seem to pursue honour in order
that they may be assured of their goodness; at least it is by men of
practical wisdom that they seek to be honoured, and among those who
know them, and on the ground of their virtue; clearly, then, according to
them, at any rate, virtue is better. And perhaps one might even suppose
this to be, rather than honour, the end of the political life. But even this
appears somewhat incomplete; for possession of virtue seems actually
compatible with being asleep, or with lifelong inactivity, and, further,
Nicomachean Ethics/7
with the greatest sufferings and misfortunes; but a man who was living
so no one would call happy, unless he were maintaining a thesis at all
costs. But enough of this; for the subject has been sufficiently treated
even in the current discussions. Third comes the contemplative life, which
we shall consider later.
The life of money-making is one undertaken under compulsion, and
wealth is evidently not the good we are seeking; for it is merely useful
and for the sake of something else. And so one might rather take the
aforenamed objects to be ends; for they are loved for themselves. But it
is evident that not even these are ends; yet many arguments have been
thrown away in support of them. Let us leave this subject, then.
6
We had perhaps better consider the universal good and discuss thoroughly what is meant by it, although such an inquiry is made an uphill
one by the fact that the Forms have been introduced by friends of our
own. Yet it would perhaps be thought to be better, indeed to be our duty,
for the sake of maintaining the truth even to destroy what touches us
closely, especially as we are philosophers or lovers of wisdom; for, while
both are dear, piety requires us to honour truth above our friends.
The men who introduced this doctrine did not posit Ideas of classes
within which they recognized priority and posteriority (which is the reason why they did not maintain the existence of an Idea embracing all
numbers); but the term ‘good’ is used both in the category of substance
and in that of quality and in that of relation, and that which is per se,
i.e., substance, is prior in nature to the relative (for the latter is like an
off shoot and accident of being); so that there could not be a common
Idea set over all these goods. Further, since ‘good’ has as many senses
as ‘being’ (for it is predicated both in the category of substance, as of
God and of reason, and in quality, i.e., of the virtues, and in quantity,
i.e., of that which is moderate, and in relation, i.e., of the useful, and in
time, i.e., of the right opportunity, and in place, i.e., of the right locality
and the like), clearly it cannot be something universally present in all
cases and single; for then it could not have been predicated in all the
categories but in one only. Further, since of the things answering to one
Idea there is one science, there would have been one science of all the
goods; but as it is there are many sciences even of the things that fall
under one category, e.g., of opportunity, for opportunity in war is studied by strategics and in disease by medicine, and the moderate in food is
8/Aristotle
studied by medicine and in exercise by the science of gymnastics. And
one might ask the question, what in the world they mean by ‘a thing
itself,’ is (as is the case) in ‘man himself’ and in a particular man the
account of man is one and the same. For in so far as they are man, they
will in no respect differ; and if this is so, neither will ‘good itself’ and
particular goods, in so far as they are good. But again it will not be good
any the more for being eternal, since that which lasts long is no whiter
than that which perishes in a day. The Pythagoreans seem to give a more
plausible account of the good, when they place the one in the column of
goods; and it is they that Speusippus seems to have followed.
But let us discuss these matters elsewhere; an objection to what we
have said, however, may be discerned in the fact that the Platonists have
not been speaking about all goods, and that the goods that are pursued
and loved for themselves are called good by reference to a single Form,
while those which tend to produce or to preserve these somehow or to
prevent their contraries are called so by reference to these, and in a
secondary sense. Clearly, then, goods must be spoken of in two ways,
and some must be good in themselves, the others by reason of these. Let
us separate, then, things good in themselves from things useful, and
consider whether the former are called good by reference to a single
Idea. What sort of goods would one call good in themselves? Is it those
that are pursued even when isolated from others, such as intelligence,
sight, and certain pleasures and honours? Certainly, if we pursue these
also for the sake of something else, yet one would place them among
things good in themselves. Or is nothing other than the Idea of good
good in itself? In that case the Form will be empty. But if the things we
have named are also things good in themselves, the account of the good
will have to appear as something identical in them all, as that of whiteness is identical in snow and in white lead. But of honour, wisdom, and
pleasure, just in respect of their goodness, the accounts are distinct and
diverse. The good, therefore, is not some common element answering to
one Idea.
But what then do we mean by the good? It is surely not like the
things that only chance to have the same name. Are goods one, then, by
being derived from one good or by all contributing to one good, or are
they rather one by analogy? Certainly as sight is in the body, so is reason in the soul, and so on in other cases. But perhaps these subjects had
better be dismissed for the present; for perfect precision about them
would be more appropriate to another branch of philosophy. And simi-
Nicomachean Ethics/9
larly with regard to the Idea; even if there is some one good which is
universally predicable of goods or is capable of separate and independent existence, clearly it could not be achieved or attained by man; but
we are now seeking something attainable. Perhaps, however, some one
might think it worth while to recognize this with a view to the goods that
are attainable and achievable; for having this as a sort of pattern we
shall know better the goods that are good for us, and if we know them
shall attain them. This argument has some plausibility, but seems to
clash with the procedure of the sciences; for all of these, though they
aim at some good and seek to supply the deficiency of it, leave on one
side the knowledge of the good. Yet that all the exponents of the arts
should be ignorant of, and should not even seek, so great an aid is not
probable. It is hard, too, to see how a weaver or a carpenter will be
benefited in regard to his own craft by knowing this ‘good itself,’ or
how the man who has viewed the Idea itself will be a better doctor or
general thereby. For a doctor seems not even to study health in this way,
but the health of man, or perhaps rather the health of a particular man;
it is individuals that he is healing. But enough of these topics.
7
Let us again return to the good we are seeking, and ask what it can be.
It seems different in different actions and arts; it is different in medicine,
in strategy, and in the other arts likewise. What then is the good of each?
Surely that for whose sake everything else is done. In medicine this is
health, in strategy victory, in architecture a house, in any other sphere
something else, and in every action and pursuit the end; for it is for the
sake of this that all men do whatever else they do. Therefore, if there is
an end for all that we do, this will be the good achievable by action, and
if there are more than one, these will be the goods achievable by action.
So the argument has by a different course reached the same point;
but we must try to state this even more clearly. Since there are evidently
more than one end, and we choose some of these (e.g., wealth, flutes,
and in general instruments) for the sake of something else, clearly not
all ends are final ends; but the chief good is evidently something final.
Therefore, if there is only one final end, this will be what we are seeking, and if there are more than one, the most final of these will be what
we are seeking. Now we call that which is in itself worthy of pursuit
more final than that which is worthy of pursuit for the sake of something else, and that which is never desirable for the sake of something
10/Aristotle
else more final than the things that are desirable both in themselves and
for the sake of that other thing, and therefore we call final without qualification that which is always desirable in itself and never for the sake of
something else.
Now such a thing happiness, above all else, is held to be; for this we
choose always for self and never for the sake of something else, but
honour, pleasure, reason, and every virtue we choose indeed for themselves (for if nothing resulted from them we should still choose each of
them), but we choose them also for the sake of happiness, judging that
by means of them we shall be happy. Happiness, on the other hand, no
one chooses for the sake of these, nor, in general, for anything other
than itself.
From the point of view of self-sufficiency the same result seems to
follow; for the final good is thought to be self-sufficient. Now by selfsufficient we do not mean that which is sufficient for a man by himself,
for one who lives a solitary life, but also for parents, children, wife, and
in general for his friends and fellow citizens, since man is born for citizenship. But some limit must be set to this; for if we extend our requirement to ancestors and descendants and friends’ friends we are in for an
infinite series. Let us examine this question, however, on another occasion; the self-sufficient we now define as that which when isolated makes
life desirable and lacking in nothing; and such we think happiness to be;
and further we think it most desirable of all things, without being counted
as one good thing among others—if it were so counted it would clearly
be made more desirable by the addition of even the least of goods; for
that which is added becomes an excess of goods, and of goods the greater
is always more desirable. Happiness, then, is something final and selfsufficient, and is the end of action.
Presumably, however, to say that happiness is the chief good seems
a platitude, and a clearer account of what it is still desired. This might
perhaps be given, if we could first ascertain the function of man. For
just as for a flute-player, a sculptor, or an artist, and, in general, for all
things that have a function or activity, the good and the ‘well’ is thought
to reside in the function, so would it seem to be for man, if he has a
function. Have the carpenter, then, and the tanner certain functions or
activities, and has man none? Is he born without a function? Or as eye,
hand, foot, and in general each of the parts evidently has a function,
may one lay it down that man similarly has a function apart from all
these? What then can this be? Life seems to be common even to plants,
Nicomachean Ethics/11
but we are seeking what is peculiar to man. Let us exclude, therefore,
the life of nutrition and growth. Next there would be a life of perception,
but it also seems to be common even to the horse, the ox, and every
animal. There remains, then, an active life of the element that has a
rational principle; of this, one part has such a principle in the sense of
being obedient to one, the other in the sense of possessing one and exercising thought. And, as ‘life of the rational element’ also has two meanings, we must state that life in the sense of activity is what we mean; for
this seems to be the more proper sense of the term. Now if the function
of man is an activity of soul which follows or implies a rational principle, and if we say ‘so-and-so-and ‘a good so-and-so’ have a function
which is the same in kind, e.g., a lyre, and a good lyre-player, and so
without qualification in all cases, eminence in respect of goodness being
idded to the name of the function (for the function of a lyre-player is to
play the lyre, and that of a good lyre-player is to do so well): if this is the
case, and we state the function of man to be a certain kind of life, and
this to be an activity or actions of the soul implying a rational principle,
and the function of a good man to be the good and noble performance of
these, and if any action is well performed when it is performed in accordance with the appropriate excellence: if this is the case, human good
turns out to be activity of soul in accordance with virtue, and if there are
more than one virtue, in accordance with the best and most complete.
But we must add ‘in a complete life.’ For one swallow does not
make a summer, nor does one day; and so too one day, or a short time,
does not make a man blessed and happy.
Let this serve as an outline of the good; for we must presumably
first sketch it roughly, and then later fill in the details. But it would seem
that any one is capable of carrying on and articulating what has once
been well outlined, and that time is a good discoverer or partner in such
a work; to which facts the advances of the arts are due; for any one can
add what is lacking. And we must also remember what has been said
before, and not look for precision in all things alike, but in each class of
things such precision as accords with the subject-matter, and so much
as is appropriate to the inquiry. For a carpenter and a geometer investigate the right angle in different ways; the former does so in so far as the
right angle is useful for his work, while the latter inquires what it is or
what sort of thing it is; for he is a spectator of the truth. We must act in
the same way, then, in all other matters as well, that our main task may
not be subordinated to minor questions. Nor must we demand the cause
12/Aristotle
in all matters alike; it is enough in some cases that the fact be well
established, as in the case of the first principles; the fact is the primary
thing or first principle. Now of first principles we see some by induction, some by perception, some by a certain habituation, and others too
in other ways. But each set of principles we must try to investigate in the
natural way, and we must take pains to state them definitely, since they
have a great influence on what follows. For the beginning is thought to
be more than half of the whole, and many of the questions we ask are
cleared up by it.
8
We must consider it, however, in the light not only of our conclusion and
our premisses, but also of what is commonly said about it; for with a
true view all the data harmonize, but with a false one the facts soon
clash. Now goods have been divided into three classes, and some are
described as external, others as relating to soul or to body; we call those
that relate to soul most properly and truly goods, and psychical actions
and activities we class as relating to soul. Therefore our account must
be sound, at least according to this view, which is an old one and agreed
on by philosophers. It is correct also in that we identify the end with
certain actions and activities; for thus it falls among goods of the soul
and not among external goods. Another belief which harmonizes with
our account is that the happy man lives well and does well; for we have
practically defined happiness as a sort of good life and good action. The
characteristics that are looked for in happiness seem also, all of them, to
belong to what we have defined happiness as being. For some identify
happiness with virtue, some with practical wisdom, others with a kind
of philosophic wisdom, others with these, or one of these, accompanied
by pleasure or not without pleasure; while others include also external
prosperity. Now some of these views have been held by many men and
men of old, others by a few eminent persons; and it is not probable that
either of these should be entirely mistaken, but rather that they should
be right in at least some one respect or even in most respects.
With those who identify happiness with virtue or some one virtue
our account is in harmony; for to virtue belongs virtuous activity. But it
makes, perhaps, no small difference whether we place the chief good in
possession or in use, in state of mind or in activity. For the state of mind
may exist without producing any good result, as in a man who is asleep
or in some other way quite inactive, but the activity cannot; for one who
Nicomachean Ethics/13
has the activity will of necessity be acting, and acting well. And as in the
Olympic Games it is not the most beautiful and the strongest that are
crowned but those who compete (for it is some of these that are victorious), so those who act win, and rightly win, the noble and good things in
life.
Their life is also in itself pleasant. For pleasure is a state of soul,
and to each man that which he is said to be a lover of is pleasant; e.g.,
not only is a horse pleasant to the lover of horses, and a spectacle to the
lover of sights, but also in the same way just acts are pleasant to the
lover of justice and in general virtuous acts to the lover of virtue. Now
for most men their pleasures are in conflict with one another because
these are not by nature pleasant, but the lovers of what is noble find
pleasant the things that are by nature pleasant; and virtuous actions are
such, so that these are pleasant for such men as well as in their own
nature. Their life, therefore, has no further need of pleasure as a sort of
adventitious charm, but has its pleasure in itself. For, besides what we
have said, the man who does not rejoice in noble actions is not even
good; since no one would call a man just who did not enjoy acting justly,
nor any man liberal who did not enjoy liberal actions; and similarly in
all other cases. If this is so, virtuous actions must be in themselves
pleasant. But they are also good and noble, and have each of these attributes in the highest degree, since the good man judges well about
these attributes; his judgement is such as we have described. Happiness
then is the best, noblest, and most pleasant thing in the world, and these
attributes are not severed as in the inscription at Delos—
Most noble is that which is justest, and best is health;
But pleasantest is it to win what we love.
For all these properties belong to the best activities; and these, or
one—the best—of these, we identify with happiness.
Yet evidently, as we said, it needs the external goods as well; for it is
impossible, or not easy, to do noble acts without the proper equipment.
In many actions we use friends and riches and political power as instruments; and there are some things the lack of which takes the lustre from
happiness, as good birth, goodly children, beauty; for the man who is
very ugly in appearance or ill-born or solitary and childless is not very
likely to be happy, and perhaps a man would be still less likely if he had
thoroughly bad children or friends or had lost good children or friends
14/Aristotle
by death. As we said, then, happiness seems to need this sort of prosperity in addition; for which reason some identify happiness with good
fortune, though others identify it with virtue.
9
For this reason also the question is asked, whether happiness is to be
acquired by learning or by habituation or some other sort of training, or
comes in virtue of some divine providence or again by chance. Now if
there is any gift of the gods to men, it is reasonable that happiness should
be god-given, and most surely god-given of all human things inasmuch
as it is the best. But this question would perhaps be more appropriate to
another inquiry; happiness seems, however, even if it is not god-sent but
comes as a result of virtue and some process of learning or training, to
be among the most godlike things; for that which is the prize and end of
virtue seems to be the best thing in the world, and something godlike and
blessed.
It will also on this view be very generally shared; for all who are not
maimed as regards their potentiality for virtue may win it by a certain
kind of study and care. But if it is better to be happy thus than by
chance, it is reasonable that the facts should be so, since everything that
depends on the action of nature is by nature as good as it can be, and
similarly everything that depends on art or any rational cause, and especially if it depends on the best of all causes. To entrust to chance what is
greatest and most noble would be a very defective arrangement.
The answer to the question we are asking is plain also from the
definition of happiness; for it has been said to be a virtuous activity of
soul, of a certain kind. Of the remaining goods, some must necessarily
pre-exist as conditions of happiness, and others are naturally co-operative and useful as instruments. And this will be found to agree with what
we said at the outset; for we stated the end of political science to be the
best end, and political science spends most of its pains on making the
citizens to be of a certain character, viz. good and capable of noble acts.
It is natural, then, that we call neither ox nor horse nor any other of
the animals happy; for none of them is capable of sharing in such activity. For this reason also a boy is not happy; for he is not yet capable of
such acts, owing to his age; and boys who are called happy are being
congratulated by reason of the hopes we have for them. For there is
required, as we said, not only complete virtue but also a complete life,
since many changes occur in life, and all manner of chances, and the
Nicomachean Ethics/15
most prosperous may fall into great misfortunes in old age, as is told of
Priam in the Trojan Cycle; and one who has experienced such chances
and has ended wretchedly no one calls happy.
10
Must no one at all, then, be called happy while he lives; must we, as
Solon says, see the end? Even if we are to lay down this doctrine, is it
also the case that a man is happy when he is dead? Or is not this quite
absurd, especially for us who say that happiness is an activity? But if
we do not call the dead man happy, and if Solon does not mean this, but
that one can then safely call a man blessed as being at last beyond evils
and misfortunes, this also affords matter for discussion; for both evil
and good are thought to exist for a dead man, as much as for one who is
alive but not aware of them; e.g., honours and dishonours and the good
or bad fortunes of children and in general of descendants. And this also
presents a problem; for though a man has lived happily up to old age
and has had a death worthy of his life, many reverses may befall his
descendants—some of them may be good and attain the life they deserve, while with others the opposite may be the case; and clearly too
the degrees of relationship between them and their ancestors may vary
indefinitely. It would be odd, then, if the dead man were to share in these
changes and become at one time happy, at another wretched; while it
would also be odd if the fortunes of the descendants did not for some
time have some effect on the happiness of their ancestors.
But we must return to our first difficulty; for perhaps by a consideration of it our present problem might be solved. Now if we must see the
end and only then call a man happy, not as being happy but as having
been so before, surely this is a paradox, that when he is happy the attribute that belongs to him is not to be truly predicated of him because
we do not wish to call living men happy, on account of the changes that
may befall them, and because we have assumed happiness to be something permanent and by no means easily changed, while a single man
may suffer many turns of fortune’s wheel. For clearly if we were to keep
pace with his fortunes, we should often call the same man happy and
again wretched, making the happy man out to be chameleon and insecurely based. Or is this keeping pace with his fortunes quite wrong?
Success or failure in life does not depend on these, but human life, as we
said, needs these as mere additions, while virtuous activities or their
opposites are what constitute happiness or the reverse.
16/Aristotle
The question we have now discussed confirms our definition. For
no function of man has so much permanence as virtuous activities (these
are thought to be more durable even than knowledge of the sciences),
and of these themselves the most valuable are more durable because
those who are happy spend their life most readily and most continuously
in these; for this seems to be the reason why we do not forget them. The
attribute in question, then, will belong to the happy man, and he will be
happy throughout his life; for always, or by preference to everything
else, he will be engaged in virtuous action and contemplation, and he
will bear the chances of life most nobly and altogether decorously, if he
is ‘truly good’ and ‘foursquare beyond reproach’.
Now many events happen by chance, and events differing in importance; small pieces of good fortune or of its opposite clearly do not
weigh down the scales of life one way or the other, but a multitude of
great events if they turn out well will make life happier (for not only are
they themselves such as to add beauty to life, but the way a man deals
with them may be noble and good), while if they turn out ill they crush
and maim happiness; for they both bring pain with them and hinder
many activities. Yet even in these nobility shines through, when a man
bears with resignation many great misfortunes, not through insensibility to pain but through nobility and greatness of soul.
If activities are, as we said, what gives life its character, no happy
man can become miserable; for he will never do the acts that are hateful
and mean. For the man who is truly good and wise, we think, bears all
the chances life becomingly and always makes the best of circumstances,
as a good general makes the best military use of the army at his command and a good shoemaker makes the best shoes out of the hides that
are given him; and so with all other craftsmen. And if this is the case,
the happy man can never become miserable; though he will not reach
blessedness, if he meet with fortunes like those of Priam.
Nor, again, is he many-coloured and changeable; for neither will he
be moved from his happy state easily or by any ordinary misadventures,
but only by many great ones, nor, if he has had many great misadventures, will he recover his happiness in a short time, but if at all, only in
a long and complete one in which he has attained many splendid successes.
When then should we not say that he is happy who is active in
accordance with complete virtue and is sufficiently equipped with external goods, not for some chance period but throughout a complete life?
Nicomachean Ethics/17
Or must we add ‘and who is destined to live thus and die as befits his
life’? Certainly the future is obscure to us, while happiness, we claim, is
an end and something in every way final. If so, we shall call happy those
among living men in whom these conditions are, and are to be, fulfilled—but happy men. So much for these questions.
11
That the fortunes of descendants and of all a man’s friends should not
affect his happiness at all seems a very unfriendly doctrine, and one
opposed to the opinions men hold; but since the events that happen are
numerous and admit of all sorts of difference, and some come more near
to us and others less so, it seems a long—nay, an infinite—task to discuss each in detail; a general outline will perhaps suffice. If, then, as
some of a man’s own misadventures have a certain weight and influence
on life while others are, as it were, lighter, so too there are differences
among the misadventures of our friends taken as a whole, and it makes
a difference whether the various suffering befall the living or the dead
(much more even than whether lawless and terrible deeds are presupposed in a tragedy or done on the stage), this difference also must be
taken into account; or rather, perhaps, the fact that doubt is felt whether
the dead share in any good or evil. For it seems, from these considerations, that even if anything whether good or evil penetrates to them, it
must be something weak and negligible, either in itself or for them, or if
not, at least it must be such in degree and kind as not to make happy
those who are not happy nor to take away their blessedness from those
who are. The good or bad fortunes of friends, then, seem to have some
effects on the dead, but effects of such a kind and degree as neither to
make the happy unhappy nor to produce any other change of the kind.
12
These questions having been definitely answered, let us consider whether
happiness is among the things that are praised or rather among the things
that are prized; for clearly it is not to be placed among potentialities.
Everything that is praised seems to be praised because it is of a certain
kind and is related somehow to something else; for we praise the just or
brave man and in general both the good man and virtue itself because of
the actions and functions involved, and we praise the strong man, the
good runner, and so on, because he is of a certain kind and is related in
a certain way to something good and important. This is clear also from
18/Aristotle
the praises of the gods; for it seems absurd that the gods should be
referred to our standard, but this is done because praise involves a reference, to something else. But if if praise is for things such as we have
described, clearly what applies to the best things is not praise, but something greater and better, as is indeed obvious; for what we do to the gods
and the most godlike of men is to call them blessed and happy. And so
too with good things; no one praises happiness as he does justice, but
rather calls it blessed, as being something more divine and better.
Eudoxus also seems to have been right in his method of advocating
the supremacy of pleasure; he thought that the fact that, though a good,
it is not praised indicated it to be better than the things that are praised,
and that this is what God and the good are; for by reference to these all
other things are judged. Praise is appropriate to virtue, for as a result of
virtue men tend to do noble deeds, but encomia are bestowed on acts,
whether of the body or of the soul. But perhaps nicety in these matters is
more proper to those who have made a study of encomia; to us it is clear
from what has been said that happiness is among the things that are
prized and perfect. It seems to be so also from the fact that it is a first
principle; for it is for the sake of this that we all do all that we do, and
the first principle and cause of goods is, we claim, something prized and
divine.
13
Since happiness is an activity of soul in accordance with perfect virtue,
we must consider the nature of virtue; for perhaps we shall thus see
better the nature of happiness. The true student of politics, too, is thought
to have studied virtue above all things; for he wishes to make his fellow
citizens good and obedient to the laws. As an example of this we have
the lawgivers of the Cretans and the Spartans, and any others of the
kind that there may have been. And if this inquiry belongs to political
science, clearly the pursuit of it will be in accordance with our original
plan. But clearly the virtue we must study is human virtue; for the good
we were seeking was human good and the happiness human happiness.
By human virtue we mean not that of the body but that of the soul; and
happiness also we call an activity of soul. But if this is so, clearly the
student of politics must know somehow the facts about soul, as the man
who is to heal the eyes or the body as a whole must know about the eyes
or the body; and all the more since politics is more prized and better
than medicine; but even among doctors the best educated spend much
Nicomachean Ethics/19
labour on acquiring knowledge of the body. The student of politics,
then, must study the soul, and must study it with these objects in view,
and do so just to the extent which is sufficient for the questions we are
discussing; for further precision is perhaps something more laborious
than our purposes require.
Some things are said about it, adequately enough, even in the discussions outside our school, and we must use these; e.g., that one element in the soul is irrational and one has a rational principle. Whether
these are separated as the parts of the body or of anything divisible are,
or are distinct by definition but by nature inseparable, like convex and
concave in the circumference of a circle, does not affect the present
question.
Of the irrational element one division seems to be widely distributed, and vegetative in its nature, I mean that which causes nutrition and
growth; for it is this kind of power of the soul that one must assign to all
nurslings and to embryos, and this same power to fullgrown creatures;
this is more reasonable than to assign some different power to them.
Now the excellence of this seems to be common to all species and not
specifically human; for this part or faculty seems to function most in
sleep, while goodness and badness are least manifest in sleep (whence
comes the saying that the happy are not better off than the wretched for
half their lives; and this happens naturally enough, since sleep is an
inactivity of the soul in that respect in which it is called good or bad),
unless perhaps to a small extent some of the movements actually penetrate to the soul, and in this respect the dreams of good men are better
than those of ordinary people. Enough of this subject, however; let us
leave the nutritive faculty alone, since it has by its nature no share in
human excellence.
There seems to be also another irrational element in the soul-one
which in a sense, however, shares in a rational principle. For we praise
the rational principle of the continent man and of the incontinent, and
the part of their soul that has such a principle, since it urges them aright
and towards the best objects; but there is found in them also another
element naturally opposed to the rational principle, which fights against
and resists that principle. For exactly as paralysed limbs when we intend to move them to the right turn on the contrary to the left, so is it
with the soul; the impulses of incontinent people move in contrary directions. But while in the body we see that which moves astray, in the soul
we do not. No doubt, however, we must none the less suppose that in the
20/Aristotle
soul too there is something contrary to the rational principle, resisting
and opposing it. In what sense it is distinct from the other elements does
not concern us. Now even this seems to have a share in a rational principle, as we said; at any rate in the continent man it obeys the rational
principle and presumably in the temperate and brave man it is still more
obedient; for in him it speaks, on all matters, with the same voice as the
rational principle.
Therefore the irrational element also appears to be two-fold. For
the vegetative element in no way shares in a rational principle, but the
appetitive and in general the desiring element in a sense shares in it, in
so far as it listens to and obeys it; this is the sense in which we speak of
‘taking account’ of one’s father or one’s friends, not that in which we
speak of ‘accounting for a mathematical property. That the irrational
element is in some sense persuaded by a rational principle is indicated
also by the giving of advice and by all reproof and exhortation. And if
this element also must be said to have a rational principle, that which
has a rational principle (as well as that which has not) will be twofold,
one subdivision having it in the strict sense and in itself, and the other
having a tendency to obey as one does one’s father.
Virtue too is distinguished into kinds in accordance with this difference; for we say that some of the virtues are intellectual and others
moral, philosophic wisdom and understanding and practical wisdom
being intellectual, liberality and temperance moral. For in speaking about
a man’s character we do not say that he is wise or has understanding but
that he is good-tempered or temperate; yet we praise the wise man also
with respect to his state of mind; and of states of mind we call those
which merit praise virtues.
BOOK II
1
Virtue, then, being of two kinds, intellectual and moral, intellectual virtue in the main owes both its birth and its growth to teaching (for which
reason it requires experience and time), while moral virtue comes about
as a result of habit, whence also its name (ethike) is one that is formed
by a slight variation from the word ethos (habit). From this it is also
plain that none of the moral virtues arises in us by nature; for nothing
that exists by nature can form a habit contrary to its nature. For instance the stone which by nature moves downwards cannot be habituated to move upwards, not even if one tries to train it by throwing it up
Nicomachean Ethics/21
ten thousand times; nor can fire be habituated to move downwards, nor
can anything else that by nature behaves in one way be trained to behave in another. Neither by nature, then, nor contrary to nature do the
virtues arise in us; rather we are adapted by nature to receive them, and
are made perfect by habit.
Again, of all the things that come to us by nature we first acquire
the potentiality and later exhibit the activity (this is plain in the case of
the senses; for it was not by often seeing or often hearing that we got
these senses, but on the contrary we had them before we used them, and
did not come to have them by using them); but the virtues we get by first
exercising them, as also happens in the case of the arts as well. For the
things we have to learn before we can do them, we learn by doing them,
e.g., men become builders by building and lyreplayers by playing the
lyre; so too we become just by doing just acts, temperate by doing temperate acts, brave by doing brave acts.
This is confirmed by what happens in states; for legislators make
the citizens good by forming habits in them, and this is the wish of every
legislator, and those who do not effect it miss their mark, and it is in this
that a good constitution differs from a bad one.
Again, it is from the same causes and by the same means that every
virtue is both produced and destroyed, and similarly every art; for it is
from playing the lyre that both good and bad lyre-players are produced.
And the corresponding statement is true of builders and of all the rest;
men will be good or bad builders as a result of building well or badly.
For if this were not so, there would have been no need of a teacher, but
all men would have been born good or bad at their craft. This, then, is
the case with the virtues also; by doing the acts that we do in our transactions with other men we become just or unjust, and by doing the acts
that we do in the presence of danger, and being habituated to feel fear or
confidence, we become brave or cowardly. The same is true of appetites
and feelings of anger; some men become temperate and good-tempered,
others self-indulgent and irascible, by behaving in one way or the other
in the appropriate circumstances. Thus, in one word, states of character
arise out of like activities. This is why the activities we exhibit must be
of a certain kind; it is because the states of character correspond to the
differences between these. It makes no small difference, then, whether
we form habits of one kind or of another from our very youth; it makes
a very great difference, or rather all the difference.
22/Aristotle
2
Since, then, the present inquiry does not aim at theoretical knowledge
like the others (for we are inquiring not in order to know what virtue is,
but in order to become good, since otherwise our inquiry would have
been of no use), we must examine the nature of actions, namely how we
ought to do them; for these determine also the nature of the states of
character that are produced, as we have said. Now, that we must act
according to the right rule is a common principle and must be assumedit will be discussed later, i.e., both what the right rule is, and how it is
related to the other virtues. But this must be agreed upon beforehand,
that the whole account of matters of conduct must be given in outline
and not precisely, as we said at the very beginning that the accounts we
demand must be in accordance with the subject-matter; matters concerned with conduct and questions of what is good for us have no fixity,
any more than matters of health. The general account being of this nature, the account of particular cases is yet more lacking in exactness; for
they do not fall under any art or precept but the agents themselves must
in each case consider what is appropriate to the occasion, as happens
also in the art of medicine or of navigation.
But though our present account is of this nature we must give what
help we can. First, then, let us consider this, that it is the nature of such
things to be destroyed by defect and excess, as we see in the case of
strength and of health (for to gain light on things imperceptible we must
use the evidence of sensible things); both excessive and defective exercise destroys the strength, and similarly drink or food which is above or
below a certain amount destroys the health, while that which is proportionate both produces and increases and preserves it. So too is it, then,
in the case of temperance and courage and the other virtues. For the
man who flies from and fears everything and does not stand his ground
against anything becomes a coward, and the man who fears nothing at
all but goes to meet every danger becomes rash; and similarly the man
who indulges in every pleasure and abstains from none becomes selfindulgent, while the man who shuns every pleasure, as boors do, becomes in a way insensible; temperance and courage, then, are destroyed
by excess and defect, and preserved by the mean.
But not only are the sources and causes of their origination and
growth the same as those of their destruction, but also the sphere of
their actualization will be the same; for this is also true of the things
which are more evident to sense, e.g., of strength; it is produced by
Nicomachean Ethics/23
taking much food and undergoing much exertion, and it is the strong
man that will be most able to do these things. So too is it with the virtues; by abstaining from pleasures we become temperate, and it is when
we have become so that we are most able to abstain from them; and
similarly too in the case of courage; for by being habituated to despise
things that are terrible and to stand our ground against them we become
brave, and it is when we have become so that we shall be most able to
stand our ground against them.
3
We must take as a sign of states of character the pleasure or pain that
ensues on acts; for the man who abstains from bodily pleasures and
delights in this very fact is temperate, while the man who is annoyed at
it is self-indulgent, and he who stands his ground against things that are
terrible and delights in this or at least is not pained is brave, while the
man who is pained is a coward. For moral excellence is concerned with
pleasures and pains; it is on account of the pleasure that we do bad
things, and on account of the pain that we abstain from noble ones.
Hence we ought to have been brought up in a particular way from our
very youth, as Plato says, so as both to delight in and to be pained by the
things that we ought; for this is the right education.
Again, if the virtues are concerned with actions and passions, and
every passion and every action is accompanied by pleasure and pain,
for this reason also virtue will be concerned with pleasures and pains.
This is indicated also by the fact that punishment is inflicted by these
means; for it is a kind of cure, and it is the nature of cures to be effected
by contraries.
Again, as we said but lately, every state of soul has a nature relative
to and concerned with the kind of things by which it tends to be made
worse or better; but it is by reason of pleasures and pains that men
become bad, by pursuing and avoiding these—either the pleasures and
pains they ought not or when they ought not or as they ought not, or by
going wrong in one of the other similar ways that may be distinguished.
Hence men even define the virtues as certain states of impassivity and
rest; not well, however, because they speak absolutely, and do not say
‘as one ought’ and ‘as one ought not’ and ‘when one ought or ought
not,’ and the other things that may be added. We assume, then, that this
kind of excellence tends to do what is best with regard to pleasures and
pains, and vice does the contrary.
24/Aristotle
The following facts also may show us that virtue and vice are concerned with these same things. There being three objects of choice and
three of avoidance, the noble, the advantageous, the pleasant, and their
contraries, the base, the injurious, the painful, about all of these the
good man tends to go right and the bad man to go wrong, and especially
about pleasure; for this is common to the animals, and also it accompanies all objects of choice; for even the noble and the advantageous appear pleasant.
Again, it has grown up with us all from our infancy; this is why it is
difficult to rub off this passion, engrained as it is in our life. And we
measure even our actions, some of us more and others less, by the rule
of pleasure and pain. For this reason, then, our whole inquiry must be
about these; for to feel delight and pain rightly or wrongly has no small
effect on our actions.
Again, it is harder to fight with pleasure than with anger, to use
Heraclitus’ phrase,’ but both art and virtue are always concerned with
what is harder; for even the good is better when it is harder. Therefore
for this reason also the whole concern both of virtue and of political
science is with pleasures and pains; for the man who uses these well will
be good, he who uses them badly bad.
That virtue, then, is concerned with pleasures and pains, and that
by the acts from which it arises it is both increased and, if they are done
differently, destroyed, and that the acts from which it arose are those in
which it actualizes itself—let this be taken as said.
4
The question might be asked,; what we mean by saying that we must
become just by doing just acts, and temperate by doing temperate acts;
for if men do just and temperate acts, they are already just and temperate, exactly as, if they do what is in accordance with the laws of grammar and of music, they are grammarians and musicians.
Or is this not true even of the arts? It is possible to do something
that is in accordance with the laws of grammar, either by chance or at
the suggestion of another. A man will be a grammarian, then, only when
he has both done something grammatical and done it grammatically;
and this means doing it in accordance with the grammatical knowledge
in himself.
Again, the case of the arts and that of the virtues are not similar; for
the products of the arts have their goodness in themselves, so that it is
Nicomachean Ethics/25
enough that they should have a certain character, but if the acts that are
in accordance with the virtues have themselves a certain character it
does not follow that they are done justly or temperately. The agent also
must be in a certain condition when he does them; in the first place he
must have knowledge, secondly he must choose the acts, and choose
them for their own sakes, and thirdly his action must proceed from a
firm and unchangeable character. These are not reckoned in as conditions of the possession of the arts, except the bare knowledge; but as a
condition of the possession of the virtues knowledge has little or no
weight, while the other conditions count not for a little but for everything, i.e., the very conditions which result from often doing just and
temperate acts.
Actions, then, are called just and temperate when they are such as
the just or the temperate man would do; but it is not the man who does
these that is just and temperate, but the man who also does them as just
and temperate men do them. It is well said, then, that it is by doing just
acts that the just man is produced, and by doing temperate acts the
temperate man; without doing these no one would have even a prospect
of becoming good.
But most people do not do these, but take refuge in theory and think
they are being philosophers and will become good in this way, behaving
somewhat like patients who listen attentively to their doctors, but do
none of the things they are ordered to do. As the latter will not be made
well in body by such a course of treatment, the former will not be made
well in soul by such a course of philosophy.
5
Next we must consider what virtue is. Since things that are found in the
soul are of three kinds—passions, faculties, states of character, virtue
must be one of these. By passions I mean appetite, anger, fear, confidence, envy, joy, friendly feeling, hatred, longing, emulation, pity, and
in general the feelings that are accompanied by pleasure or pain; by
faculties the things in virtue of which we are said to be capable of feeling these, e.g., of becoming angry or being pained or feeling pity; by
states of character the things in virtue of which we stand well or badly
with reference to the passions, e.g., with reference to anger we stand
badly if we feel it violently or too weakly, and well if we feel it moderately; and similarly with reference to the other passions.
Now neither the virtues nor the vices are passions, because we are
26/Aristotle
not called good or bad on the ground of our passions, but are so called
on the ground of our virtues and our vices, and because we are neither
praised nor blamed for our passions (for the man who feels fear or anger
is not praised, nor is the man who simply feels anger blamed, but the
man who feels it in a certain way), but for our virtues and our vices we
are praised or blamed.
Again, we feel anger and fear without choice, but the virtues are
modes of choice or involve choice. Further, in respect of the passions we
are said to be moved, but in respect of the virtues and the vices we are
said not to be moved but to be disposed in a particular way.
For these reasons also they are not faculties; for we are neither
called good nor bad, nor praised nor blamed, for the simple capacity of
feeling the passions; again, we have the faculties by nature, but we are
not made good or bad by nature; we have spoken of this before. If, then,
the virtues are neither passions nor faculties, all that remains is that they
should be states of character.
Thus we have stated what virtue is in respect of its genus.
6
We must, however, not only describe virtue as a state of character, but
also say what sort of state it is. We may remark, then, that every virtue
or excellence both brings into good condition the thing of which it is the
excellence and makes the work of that thing be done well; e.g., the excellence of the eye makes both the eye and its work good; for it is by the
excellence of the eye that we see well. Similarly the excellence of the
horse makes a horse both good in itself and good at running and at
carrying its rider and at awaiting the attack of the enemy. Therefore, if
this is true in every case, the virtue of man also will be the state of
character which makes a man good and which makes him do his own
work well.
How this is to happen we have stated already, but it will be made
plain also by the following consideration of the specific nature of virtue.
In everything that is continuous and divisible it is possible to take more,
less, or an equal amount, and that either in terms of the thing itself or
relatively to us; and the equal is an intermediate between excess and
defect. By the intermediate in the object I mean that which is equidistant
from each of the extremes, which is one and the same for all men; by the
intermediate relatively to us that which is neither too much nor too little—
and this is not one, nor the same for all. For instance, if ten is many and
Nicomachean Ethics/27
two is few, six is the intermediate, taken in terms of the object; for it
exceeds and is exceeded by an equal amount; this is intermediate according to arithmetical proportion. But the intermediate relatively to us
is not to be taken so; if ten pounds are too much for a particular person
to eat and two too little, it does not follow that the trainer will order six
pounds; for this also is perhaps too much for the person who is to take
it, or too little—too little for Milo, too much for the beginner in athletic
exercises. The same is true of running and wrestling. Thus a master of
any art avoids excess and defect, but seeks the intermediate and chooses
this—the intermediate not in the object but relatively to us.
If it is thus, then, that every art does its work well—by looking to
the intermediate and judgling its works by this standard (so that we
often say of good works of art that it is not possible either to take away
or to add anything, implying that excess and defect destroy the goodness
of works of art, while the mean preserves it; and good artists, as we say,
look to this in their work), and if, further, virtue is more exact and better
than any art, as nature also is, then virtue must have the quality of
aiming at the intermediate. I mean moral virtue; for it is this that is
concerned with passions and actions, and in these there is excess, defect, and the intermediate. For instance, both fear and confidence and
appetite and anger and pity and in general pleasure and pain may be felt
both too much and too little, and in both cases not well; but to feel them
at the right times, with reference to the right objects, towards the right
people, with the right motive, and in the right way, is what is both intermediate and best, and this is characteristic of virtue. Similarly with
regard to actions also there is excess, defect, and the intermediate. Now
virtue is concerned with passions and actions, in which excess is a form
of failure, and so is defect, while the intermediate is praised and is a
form of success; and being praised and being successful are both characteristics of virtue. Therefore virtue is a kind of mean, since, as we
have seen, it aims at what is intermediate.
Again, it is possible to fail in many ways (for evil belongs to the
class of the unlimited, as the Pythagoreans conjectured, and good to that
of the limited), while to succeed is possible only in one way (for which
reason also one is easy and the other difficult—to miss the mark easy, to
hit it difficult); for these reasons also, then, excess and defect are characteristic of vice, and the mean of virtue;
For men are good in but one way, but bad in many.
Virtue, then, is a state of character concerned with choice, lying in a
28/Aristotle
mean, i.e., the mean relative to us, this being determined by a rational
principle, and by that principle by which the man of practical wisdom
would determine it. Now it is a mean between two vices, that which
depends on excess and that which depends on defect; and again it is a
mean because the vices respectively fall short of or exceed what is right
in both passions and actions, while virtue both finds and chooses that
which is intermediate. Hence in respect of its substance and the definition which states its essence virtue is a mean, with regard to what is best
and right an extreme.
But not every action nor every passion admits of a mean; for some
have names that already imply badness, e.g., spite, shamelessness, envy,
and in the case of actions adultery, theft, murder; for all of these and
suchlike things imply by their names that they are themselves bad, and
not the excesses or deficiencies of them. It is not possible, then, ever to
be right with regard to them; one must always be wrong. Nor does goodness or badness with regard to such things depend on committing adultery with the right woman, at the right time, and in the right way, but
simply to do any of them is to go wrong. It would be equally absurd,
then, to expect that in unjust, cowardly, and voluptuous action there
should be a mean, an excess, and a deficiency; for at that rate there
would be a mean of excess and of deficiency, an excess of excess, and a
deficiency of deficiency. But as there is no excess and deficiency of
temperance and courage because what is intermediate is in a sense an
extreme, so too of the actions we have mentioned there is no mean nor
any excess and deficiency, but however they are done they are wrong;
for in general there is neither a mean of excess and deficiency, nor excess and deficiency of a mean.
7
We must, however, not only make this general statement, but also apply
it to the individual facts. For among statements about conduct those
which are general apply more widely, but those which are particular are
more genuine, since conduct has to do with individual cases, and our
statements must harmonize with the facts in these cases. We may take
these cases from our table. With regard to feelings of fear and confidence courage is the mean; of the people who exceed, he who exceeds in
fearlessness has no name (many of the states have no name), while the
man who exceeds in confidence is rash, and he who exceeds in fear and
falls short in confidence is a coward. With regard to pleasures and pains—
Nicomachean Ethics/29
not all of them, and not so much with regard to the pains—the mean is
temperance, the excess self-indulgence. Persons deficient with regard to
the pleasures are not often found; hence such persons also have received
no name. But let us call them ‘insensible.’
With regard to giving and taking of money the mean is liberality, the
excess and the defect prodigality and meanness. In these actions people
exceed and fall short in contrary ways; the prodigal exceeds in spending
and falls short in taking, while the mean man exceeds in taking and falls
short in spending. (At present we are giving a mere outline or summary,
and are satisfied with this; later these states will be more exactly determined.) With regard to money there are also other dispositions—a mean,
magnificence (for the magnificent man differs from the liberal man; the
former deals with large sums, the latter with small ones), an excess,
tastelessness and vulgarity, and a deficiency, niggardliness; these differ
from the states opposed to liberality, and the mode of their difference
will be stated later. With regard to honour and dishonour the mean is
proper pride, the excess is known as a sort of ‘empty vanity,’ and the
deficiency is undue humility; and as we said liberality was related to
magnificence, differing from it by dealing with small sums, so there is a
state similarly related to proper pride, being concerned with small honours
while that is concerned with great. For it is possible to desire honour as
one ought, and more than one ought, and less, and the man who exceeds
in his desires is called ambitious, the man who falls short unambitious,
while the intermediate person has no name. The dispositions also are
nameless, except that that of the ambitious man is called ambition. Hence
the people who are at the extremes lay claim to the middle place; and we
ourselves sometimes call the intermediate person ambitious and sometimes unambitious, and sometimes praise the ambitious man and sometimes the unambitious. The reason of our doing this will be stated in
what follows; but now let us speak of the remaining states according to
the method which has been indicated.
With regard to anger also there is an excess, a deficiency, and a
mean. Although they can scarcely be said to have names, yet since we
call the intermediate person good-tempered let us call the mean good
temper; of the persons at the extremes let the one who exceeds be called
irascible, and his vice irascibility, and the man who falls short an
inirascible sort of person, and the deficiency inirascibility.
There are also three other means, which have a certain likeness to
one another, but differ from one another: for they are all concerned with
30/Aristotle
intercourse in words and actions, but differ in that one is concerned with
truth in this sphere, the other two with pleasantness; and of this one kind
is exhibited in giving amusement, the other in all the circumstances of
life. We must therefore speak of these too, that we may the better see
that in all things the mean is praise-worthy, and the extremes neither
praiseworthy nor right, but worthy of blame. Now most of these states
also have no names, but we must try, as in the other cases, to invent
names ourselves so that we may be clear and easy to follow. With regard to truth, then, the intermediate is a truthful sort of person and the
mean may be called truthfulness, while the pretence which exaggerates
is boastfulness and the person characterized by it a boaster, and that
which understates is mock modesty and the person characterized by it
mock-modest. With regard to pleasantness in the giving of amusement
the intermediate person is ready-witted and the disposition ready wit,
the excess is buffoonery and the person characterized by it a buffoon,
while the man who falls short is a sort of boor and his state is boorishness. With regard to the remaining kind of pleasantness, that which is
exhibited in life in general, the man who is pleasant in the right way is
friendly and the mean is friendliness, while the man who exceeds is an
obsequious person if he has no end in view, a flatterer if he is aiming at
his own advantage, and the man who falls short and is unpleasant in all
circumstances is a quarrelsome and surly sort of person.
There are also means in the passions and concerned with the passions; since shame is not a virtue, and yet praise is extended to the
modest man. For even in these matters one man is said to be intermediate, and another to exceed, as for instance the bashful man who is ashamed
of everything; while he who falls short or is not ashamed of anything at
all is shameless, and the intermediate person is modest. Righteous indignation is a mean between envy and spite, and these states are concerned with the pain and pleasure that are felt at the fortunes of our
neighbours; the man who is characterized by righteous indignation is
pained at undeserved good fortune, the envious man, going beyond him,
is pained at all good fortune, and the spiteful man falls so far short of
being pained that he even rejoices. But these states there will be an
opportunity of describing elsewhere; with regard to justice, since it has
not one simple meaning, we shall, after describing the other states, distinguish its two kinds and say how each of them is a mean; and similarly
we shall treat also of the rational virtues.
Nicomachean Ethics/31
8
There are three kinds of disposition, then, two of them vices, involving
excess and deficiency respectively, and one a virtue, viz. the mean, and
all are in a sense opposed to all; for the extreme states are contrary both
to the intermediate state and to each other, and the intermediate to the
extremes; as the equal is greater relatively to the less, less relatively to
the greater, so the middle states are excessive relatively to the deficiencies, deficient relatively to the excesses, both in passions and in actions.
For the brave man appears rash relatively to the coward, and cowardly
relatively to the rash man; and similarly the temperate man appears selfindulgent relatively to the insensible man, insensible relatively to the
self-indulgent, and the liberal man prodigal relatively to the mean man,
mean relatively to the prodigal. Hence also the people at the extremes
push the intermediate man each over to the other, and the brave man is
called rash by the coward, cowardly by the rash man, and correspondingly in the other cases.
These states being thus opposed to one another, the greatest contrariety is that of the extremes to each other, rather than to the intermediate; for these are further from each other than from the intermediate, as
the great is further from the small and the small from the great than both
are from the equal. Again, to the intermediate some extremes show a
certain likeness, as that of rashness to courage and that of prodigality to
liberality; but the extremes show the greatest unlikeness to each other;
now contraries are defined as the things that are furthest from each
other, so that things that are further apart are more contrary.
To the mean in some cases the deficiency, in some the excess is
more opposed; e.g., it is not rashness, which is an excess, but cowardice, which is a deficiency, that is more opposed to courage, and not
insensibility, which is a deficiency, but self-indulgence, which is an excess, that is more opposed to temperance. This happens from two reasons, one being drawn from the thing itself; for because one extreme is
nearer and liker to the intermediate, we oppose not this but rather its
contrary to the intermediate. E.g., since rashness is thought liker and
nearer to courage, and cowardice more unlike, we oppose rather the
latter to courage; for things that are further from the intermediate are
thought more contrary to it. This, then, is one cause, drawn from the
thing itself; another is drawn from ourselves; for the things to which we
ourselves more naturally tend seem more contrary to the intermediate.
For instance, we ourselves tend more naturally to pleasures, and hence
32/Aristotle
are more easily carried away towards self-indulgence than towards propriety. We describe as contrary to the mean, then, rather the directions
in which we more often go to great lengths; and therefore self-indulgence, which is an excess, is the more contrary to temperance.
9
That moral virtue is a mean, then, and in what sense it is so, and that it
is a mean between two vices, the one involving excess, the other deficiency, and that it is such because its character is to aim at what is
intermediate in passions and in actions, has been sufficiently stated.
Hence also it is no easy task to be good. For in everything it is no easy
task to find the middle, e.g., to find the middle of a circle is not for every
one but for him who knows; so, too, any one can get angry—that is
easy—or give or spend money; but to do this to the right person, to the
right extent, at the right time, with the right motive, and in the right way,
that is not for every one, nor is it easy; wherefore goodness is both rare
and laudable and noble.
Hence he who aims at the intermediate must first depart from what
is the more contrary to it, as Calypso advises—
Hold the ship out beyond that surf and spray.
For of the extremes one is more erroneous, one less so; therefore,
since to hit the mean is hard in the extreme, we must as a second best, as
people say, take the least of the evils; and this will be done best in the
way we describe. But we must consider the things towards which we
ourselves also are easily carried away; for some of us tend to one thing,
some to another; and this will be recognizable from the pleasure and the
pain we feel. We must drag ourselves away to the contrary extreme; for
we shall get into the intermediate state by drawing well away from error, as people do in straightening sticks that are bent.
Now in everything the pleasant or pleasure is most to be guarded
against; for we do not judge it impartially. We ought, then, to feel towards pleasure as the elders of the people felt towards Helen, and in all
circumstances repeat their saying; for if we dismiss pleasure thus we
are less likely to go astray. It is by doing this, then, (to sum the matter
up) that we shall best be able to hit the mean.
But this is no doubt difficult, and especially in individual cases; for
or is not easy to determine both how and with whom and on what provo-
Nicomachean Ethics/33
cation and how long one should be angry; for we too sometimes praise
those who fall short and call them good-tempered, but sometimes we
praise those who get angry and call them manly. The man, however,
who deviates little from goodness is not blamed, whether he do so in the
direction of the more or of the less, but only the man who deviates more
widely; for he does not fail to be noticed. But up to what point and to
what extent a man must deviate before he becomes blameworthy it is
not easy to determine by reasoning, any more than anything else that is
perceived by the senses; such things depend on particular facts, and the
decision rests with perception. So much, then, is plain, that the intermediate state is in all things to be praised, but that we must incline sometimes towards the excess, sometimes towards the deficiency; for so shall
we most easily hit the mean and what is right.
BOOK III
1
Since virtue is concerned with passions and actions, and on voluntary
passions and actions praise and blame are bestowed, on those that are
involuntary pardon, and sometimes also pity, to distinguish the voluntary and the involuntary is presumably necessary for those who are
studying the nature of virtue, and useful also for legislators with a view
to the assigning both of honours and of punishments. Those things, then,
are thought-involuntary, which take place under compulsion or owing
to ignorance; and that is compulsory of which the moving principle is
outside, being a principle in which nothing is contributed by the person
who is acting or is feeling the passion, e.g., if he were to be carried
somewhere by a wind, or by men who had him in their power.
But with regard to the things that are done from fear of greater evils
or for some noble object (e.g., if a tyrant were to order one to do something base, having one’s parents and children in his power, and if one
did the action they were to be saved, but otherwise would be put to
death), it may be debated whether such actions are involuntary or voluntary. Something of the sort happens also with regard to the throwing
of goods overboard in a storm; for in the abstract no one throws goods
away voluntarily, but on condition of its securing the safety of himself
and his crew any sensible man does so. Such actions, then, are mixed,
but are more like voluntary actions; for they are worthy of choice at the
time when they are done, and the end of an action is relative to the
occasion. Both the terms, then, ‘voluntary’ and ‘involuntary,’ must be
34/Aristotle
used with reference to the moment of action. Now the man acts voluntarily; for the principle that moves the instrumental parts of the body in
such actions is in him, and the things of which the moving principle is in
a man himself are in his power to do or not to do. Such actions, therefore, are voluntary, but in the abstract perhaps involuntary; for no one
would choose any such act in itself.
For such actions men are sometimes even praised, when they endure something base or painful in return for great and noble objects
gained; in the opposite case they are blamed, since to endure the greatest
indignities for no noble end or for a trifling end is the mark of an inferior
person. On some actions praise indeed is not bestowed, but pardon is,
when one does what he ought not under pressure which overstrains human nature and which no one could withstand. But some acts, perhaps,
we cannot be forced to do, but ought rather to face death after the most
fearful sufferings; for the things that ‘forced’ Euripides Alcmaeon to
slay his mother seem absurd. It is difficult sometimes to determine what
should be chosen at what cost, and what should be endured in return for
what gain, and yet more difficult to abide by our decisions; for as a rule
what is expected is painful, and what we are forced to do is base, whence
praise and blame are bestowed on those who have been compelled or
have not.
What sort of acts, then, should be called compulsory? We answer
that without qualification actions are so when the cause is in the external circumstances and the agent contributes nothing. But the things that
in themselves are involuntary, but now and in return for these gains are
worthy of choice, and whose moving principle is in the agent, are in
themselves involuntary, but now and in return for these gains voluntary.
They are more like voluntary acts; for actions are in the class of particulars, and the particular acts here are voluntary. What sort of things are
to be chosen, and in return for what, it is not easy to state; for there are
many differences in the particular cases.
But if some one were to say that pleasant and noble objects have a
compelling power, forcing us from without, all acts would be for him
compulsory; for it is for these objects that all men do everything they
do. And those who act under compulsion and unwillingly act with pain,
but those who do acts for their pleasantness and nobility do them with
pleasure; it is absurd to make external circumstances responsible, and
not oneself, as being easily caught by such attractions, and to make
oneself responsible for noble acts but the pleasant objects responsible
Nicomachean Ethics/35
for base acts. The compulsory, then, seems to be that whose moving
principle is outside, the person compelled contributing nothing.
Everything that is done by reason of ignorance is not voluntary; it is
only what produces pain and repentance that is involuntary. For the
man who has done something owing to ignorance, and feels not the least
vexation at his action, has not acted voluntarily, since he did not know
what he was doing, nor yet involuntarily, since he is not pained. Of
people, then, who act by reason of ignorance he who repents is thought
an involuntary agent, and the man who does not repent may, since he is
different, be called a not voluntary agent; for, since he differs from the
other, it is better that he should have a name of his own.
Acting by reason of ignorance seems also to be different from acting in ignorance; for the man who is drunk or in a rage is thought to act
as a result not of ignorance but of one of the causes mentioned, yet not
knowingly but in ignorance.
Now every wicked man is ignorant of what he ought to do and what
he ought to abstain from, and it is by reason of error of this kind that
men become unjust and in general bad; but the term ‘involuntary’ tends
to be used not if a man is ignorant of what is to his advantage—for it is
not mistaken purpose that causes involuntary action (it leads rather to
wickedness), nor ignorance of the universal (for that men are blamed),
but ignorance of particulars, i.e., of the circumstances of the action and
the objects with which it is concerned. For it is on these that both pity
and pardon depend, since the person who is ignorant of any of these acts
involuntarily.
Perhaps it is just as well, therefore, to determine their nature and
number. A man may be ignorant, then, of who he is, what he is doing,
what or whom he is acting on, and sometimes also what (e.g., what
instrument) he is doing it with, and to what end (e.g., he may think his
act will conduce to some one’s safety), and how he is doing it (e.g.,
whether gently or violently). Now of all of these no one could be ignorant unless he were mad, and evidently also he could not be ignorant of
the agent; for how could he not know himself? But of what he is doing a
man might be ignorant, as for instance people say ‘it slipped out of their
mouths as they were speaking,’ or ‘they did not know it was a secret,’ as
Aeschylus said of the mysteries, or a man might say he ‘let it go off
when he merely wanted to show its working,’ as the man did with the
catapult. Again, one might think one’s son was an enemy, as Merope
did, or that a pointed spear had a button on it, or that a stone was
36/Aristotle
pumicestone; or one might give a man a draught to save him, and really
kill him; or one might want to touch a man, as people do in sparring, and
really wound him. The ignorance may relate, then, to any of these things,
i.e., of the circumstances of the action, and the man who was ignorant of
any of these is thought to have acted involuntarily, and especially if he
was ignorant on the most important points; and these are thought to be
the circumstances of the action and its end. Further, the doing of an act
that is called involuntary in virtue of ignorance of this sort must be
painful and involve repentance.
Since that which is done under compulsion or by reason of ignorance is involuntary, the voluntary would seem to be that of which the
moving principle is in the agent himself, he being aware of the particular circumstances of the action. Presumably acts done by reason of anger or appetite are not rightly called involuntary. For in the first place,
on that showing none of the other animals will act voluntarily, nor will
children; and secondly, is it meant that we do not do voluntarily any of
the acts that are due to appetite or anger, or that we do the noble acts
voluntarily and the base acts involuntarily? Is not this absurd, when one
and the same thing is the cause? But it would surely be odd to describe
as involuntary the things one ought to desire; and we ought both to be
angry at certain things and to have an appetite for certain things, e.g.,
for health and for learning. Also what is involuntary is thought to be
painful, but what is in accordance with appetite is thought to be pleasant. Again, what is the difference in respect of involuntariness between
errors committed upon calculation and those committed in anger? Both
are to be avoided, but the irrational passions are thought not less human
than reason is, and therefore also the actions which proceed from anger
or appetite are the man’s actions. It would be odd, then, to treat them as
involuntary.
2
Both the voluntary and the involuntary having been delimited, we must
next discuss choice; for it is thought to be most closely bound up with
virtue and to discriminate characters better than actions do.
Choice, then, seems to be voluntary, but not the same thing as the
voluntary; the latter extends more widely. For both children and the
lower animals share in voluntary action, but not in choice, and acts done
on the spur of the moment we describe as voluntary, but not as chosen.
Those who say it is appetite or anger or wish or a kind of opinion do
Nicomachean Ethics/37
not seem to be right. For choice is not common to irrational creatures as
well, but appetite and anger are. Again, the incontinent man acts with
appetite, but not with choice; while the continent man on the contrary
acts with choice, but not with appetite. Again, appetite is contrary to
choice, but not appetite to appetite. Again, appetite relates to the pleasant and the painful, choice neither to the painful nor to the pleasant.
Still less is it anger; for acts due to anger are thought to be less than
any others objects of choice.
But neither is it wish, though it seems near to it; for choice cannot
relate to impossibles, and if any one said he chose them he would be
thought silly; but there may be a wish even for impossibles, e.g., for
immortality. And wish may relate to things that could in no way be
brought about by one’s own efforts, e.g., that a particular actor or athlete should win in a competition; but no one chooses such things, but
only the things that he thinks could be brought about by his own efforts.
Again, wish relates rather to the end, choice to the means; for instance,
we wish to be healthy, but we choose the acts which will make us healthy,
and we wish to be happy and say we do, but we cannot well say we
choose to be so; for, in general, choice seems to relate to the things that
are in our own power.
For this reason, too, it cannot be opinion; for opinion is thought to
relate to all kinds of things, no less to eternal things and impossible
things than to things in our own power; and it is distinguished by its
falsity or truth, not by its badness or goodness, while choice is distinguished rather by these.
Now with opinion in general perhaps no one even says it is identical. But it is not identical even with any kind of opinion; for by choosing
what is good or bad we are men of a certain character, which we are not
by holding certain opinions. And we choose to get or avoid something
good or bad, but we have opinions about what a thing is or whom it is
good for or how it is good for him; we can hardly be said to opine to get
or avoid anything. And choice is praised for being related to the right
object rather than for being rightly related to it, opinion for being truly
related to its object. And we choose what we best know to be good, but
we opine what we do not quite know; and it is not the same people that
are thought to make the best choices and to have the best opinions, but
some are thought to have fairly good opinions, but by reason of vice to
choose what they should not. If opinion precedes choice or accompanies
it, that makes no difference; for it is not this that we are considering, but
38/Aristotle
whether it is identical with some kind of opinion.
What, then, or what kind of thing is it, since it is none of the things
we have mentioned? It seems to be voluntary, but not all that is voluntary to be an object of choice. Is it, then, what has been decided on by
previous deliberation? At any rate choice involves a rational principle
and thought. Even the name seems to suggest that it is what is chosen
before other things.
3
Do we deliberate about everything, and is everything a possible subject
of deliberation, or is deliberation impossible about some things? We
ought presumably to call not what a fool or a madman would deliberate
about, but what a sensible man would deliberate about, a subject of
deliberation. Now about eternal things no one deliberates, e.g., about
the material universe or the incommensurability of the diagonal and the
side of a square. But no more do we deliberate about the things that
involve movement but always happen in the same way, whether of necessity or by nature or from any other cause, e.g., the solstices and the
risings of the stars; nor about things that happen now in one way, now in
another, e.g., droughts and rains; nor about chance events, like the finding of treasure. But we do not deliberate even about all human affairs;
for instance, no Spartan deliberates about the best constitution for the
Scythians. For none of these things can be brought about by our own
efforts.
We deliberate about things that are in our power and can be done;
and these are in fact what is left. For nature, necessity, and chance are
thought to be causes, and also reason and everything that depends on
man. Now every class of men deliberates about the things that can be
done by their own efforts. And in the case of exact and self-contained
sciences there is no deliberation, e.g., about the letters of the alphabet
(for we have no doubt how they should be written); but the things that
are brought about by our own efforts, but not always in the same way,
are the things about which we deliberate, e.g., questions of medical treatment or of money-making. And we do so more in the case of the art of
navigation than in that of gymnastics, inasmuch as it has been less exactly worked out, and again about other things in the same ratio, and
more also in the case of the arts than in that of the sciences; for we have
more doubt about the former. Deliberation is concerned with things that
happen in a certain way for the most part, but in which the event is
Nicomachean Ethics/39
obscure, and with things in which it is indeterminate. We call in others
to aid us in deliberation on important questions, distrusting ourselves as
not being equal to deciding.
We deliberate not about ends but about means. For a doctor does
not deliberate whether he shall heal, nor an orator whether he shall persuade, nor a statesman whether he shall produce law and order, nor does
any one else deliberate about his end. They assume the end and consider
how and by what means it is to be attained; and if it seems to be produced by several means they consider by which it is most easily and best
produced, while if it is achieved by one only they consider how it will be
achieved by this and by what means this will be achieved, till they come
to the first cause, which in the order of discovery is last. For the person
who deliberates seems to investigate and analyse in the way described
as though he were analysing a geometrical construction (not all investigation appears to be deliberation—for instance mathematical investigations—but all deliberation is investigation), and what is last in the order
of analysis seems to be first in the order of becoming. And if we come
on an impossibility, we give up the search, e.g., if we need money and
this cannot be got; but if a thing appears possible we try to do it. By
‘possible’ things I mean things that might be brought about by our own
efforts; and these in a sense include things that can be brought about by
the efforts of our friends, since the moving principle is in ourselves. The
subject of investigation is sometimes the instruments, sometimes the use
of them; and similarly in the other cases—sometimes the means, sometimes the mode of using it or the means of bringing it about. It seems,
then, as has been said, that man is a moving principle of actions; now
deliberation is about the things to be done by the agent himself, and
actions are for the sake of things other than themselves. For the end
cannot be a subject of deliberation, but only the means; nor indeed can
the particular facts be a subject of it, as whether this is bread or has
been baked as it should; for these are matters of perception. If we are to
be always deliberating, we shall have to go on to infinity.
The same thing is deliberated upon and is chosen, except that the
object of choice is already determinate, since it is that which has been
decided upon as a result of deliberation that is the object of choice. For
every one ceases to inquire how he is to act when he has brought the
moving principle back to himself and to the ruling part of himself; for
this is what chooses. This is plain also from the ancient constitutions,
which Homer represented; for the kings announced their choices to the
40/Aristotle
people. The object of choice being one of the things in our own power
which is desired after deliberation, choice will be deliberate desire of
things in our own power; for when we have decided as a result of deliberation, we desire in accordance with our deliberation.
We may take it, then, that we have described choice in outline, and
stated the nature of its objects and the fact that it is concerned with
means.
4
That wish is for the end has already been stated; some think it is for the
good, others for the apparent good. Now those who say that the good is
the object of wish must admit in consequence that that which the man
who does not choose aright wishes for is not an object of wish (for if it
is to be so, it must also be good; but it was, if it so happened, bad); while
those who say the apparent good is the object of wish must admit that
there is no natural object of wish, but only what seems good to each
man. Now different things appear good to different people, and, if it so
happens, even contrary things.
If these consequences are unpleasing, are we to say that absolutely
and in truth the good is the object of wish, but for each person the
apparent good; that that which is in truth an object of wish is an object
of wish to the good man, while any chance thing may be so the bad man,
as in the case of bodies also the things that are in truth wholesome are
wholesome for bodies which are in good condition, while for those that
are diseased other things are wholesome—or bitter or sweet or hot or
heavy, and so on; since the good man judges each class of things rightly,
and in each the truth appears to him? For each state of character has its
own ideas of the noble and the pleasant, and perhaps the good man
differs from others most by seeing the truth in each class of things,
being as it were the norm and measure of them. In most things the error
seems to be due to pleasure; for it appears a good when it is not. We
therefore choose the pleasant as a good, and avoid pain as an evil.
5
The end, then, being what we wish for, the means what we deliberate
about and choose, actions concerning means must be according to choice
and voluntary. Now the exercise of the virtues is concerned with means.
Therefore virtue also is in our own power, and so too vice. For where it
is in our power to act it is also in our power not to act, and vice versa; so
Nicomachean Ethics/41
that, if to act, where this is noble, is in our power, not to act, which will
be base, will also be in our power, and if not to act, where this is noble,
is in our power, to act, which will be base, will also be in our power.
Now if it is in our power to do noble or base acts, and likewise in our
power not to do them, and this was what being good or bad meant, then
it is in our power to be virtuous or vicious.
The saying that ‘no one is voluntarily wicked nor involuntarily happy’
seems to be partly false and partly true; for no one is involuntarily happy,
but wickedness is voluntary. Or else we shall have to dispute what has
just been said, at any rate, and deny that man is a moving principle or
begetter of his actions as of children. But if these facts are evident an...
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