No More Learning

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 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
self-sufficient 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
self-sufficient, 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, 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
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 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 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 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.

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? 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 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 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 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 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.

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 assumed-it 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
self-indulgent, 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 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.

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 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
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 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 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- 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 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.

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 self-indulgent 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 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 provocation 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 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 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 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 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 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.