[1228a] [23]

It has then been stated in general terms that there are middle states in the virtues and that these are purposive, and also that the opposite dispositions are vices and what these are. But let us take them separately and discuss them seriatim. And first let us speak about Courage.

Now almost everybody holds that the brave man is concerned with fears, and that courage is one of the virtues. And in our schedule1 previously we distinguished daring and fear as contraries, for they are indeed in a manner opposed to one another. It is clear, therefore, that the persons named after these states of character will also be similarly opposed to each other—that is, the coward (for that is the term that denotes being more afraid than is proper and less daring than is proper) and the daring man (for that denotes the characteristic of being less afraid than is proper and more daring than is proper—and from this the name is derived, as the word 'daring' is cognate with the word 'dare'). So that since courage is the best state of character in relation to feelings of fear and daring, and the proper character is neither that of the daring (for they fall short in one respect and exceed in another) nor that of the cowardly (for they also do the same, only not as regards the same things but inversely— [1228b] [1] they fall short in daring and exceed in being afraid), it is clear that the middle state of character between daring and cowardice is courage, for this is the best state.

And it seems that the brave man is in general fearless, and the coward liable to fear; and that the latter fears things when they are few in number and small in size as well as when numerous and great, and fears violently, and gets frightened quickly, whereas the former on the contrary either never feels fear at all or only slightly and reluctantly and seldom, and in regard to things of magnitude; and he endures things that are extremely formidable, whereas the other does not endure even those that are slightly formidable. What sort of things, then, does the brave man endure? First, is it the things that are formidable to himself or formidable to somebody else? If the things formidable to somebody else, one would not indeed call it anything remarkable; but if it is those that are formidable to himself, what is formidable to him must be things of great magnitude and number. But formidable things are productive of fear2 in the particular person to whom they are formidable—that is, if they are very formidable, the fear they produce will be violent, if slightly formidable, it will be weak; so it follows that the brave man's fears are great and many. Yet on the contrary it appeared that courage makes a man fearless, and that fearlessness consists in fearing nothing, or else few things, and those slightly and reluctantly. But perhaps 'formidable' is an ambiguous term, like 'pleasant' and 'good.' Some things are pleasant and good absolutely, [20] whereas others are so to a particular person but absolutely are not so, but on the contrary are bad and unpleasant—all the things that are beneficial for the base, and all those that are pleasant to children qua children. And similarly some things are formidable absolutely and others to a particular person: thus the things that the coward qua coward fears are some of them not formidable to anybody and others only slightly formidable, but things that are formidable to most men, and all that are formidable to human nature, we pronounce to be formidable absolutely. But the brave man is fearless in regard to them, and endures formidable things of this sort, which are formidable to him in one way but in another way are not—they are formidable to him qua human being, but qua brave not formidable except slightly, or not at all. Yet such things really are formidable, for they are formidable to most men. Owing to this the brave man's state of character is praised, because it resembles that of the strong and the healthy. These have those characters not because no labor in the one case or extreme of temperature in the other can crush them, but because they are not affected at all, or only affected slightly, by the things that affect the many or the majority. Therefore whereas the sickly and weak and cowardly are affected also by the afflictions commonly felt, only more quickly and to a greater extent than the mass of men, the healthy, strong and brave, although affected by the very great afflictions, are affected by them more slowly and less than the mass of men,3 and moreover they are entirely unaffected or only slightly affected by things that affect the mass.

But the question is raised whether to the brave man nothing is formidable, and whether he would be insensible to fear. [1229a] [1] Or is it not possible that he may feel fear in the way described? For courage is following reason, and reason bids us choose what is fine. Hence he who endures formidable things not on account of reason is either out of his mind or daring, but only he who does so from motives of honor is fearless and brave. The coward, therefore, fears even things that he ought not to fear, and the daring man is bold even about things about which he ought not to be bold, but the brave man alone does both as he ought, and is intermediate in this respect, for he feels both confidence and fear about what ever things reason bids; but reason does not bid him endure things that are extremely painful and destructive, unless they are fine. The daring man, therefore, faces such things with confidence even if reason does not bid him face them, and the coward does not face them even if it does, but only the brave man faces them if reason bids.

There are five kinds of courage so called by analogy, because brave men of these kinds endure the same things as the really courageous but not for the same reasons. One is civic courage; this is courage due to a sense of shame. Second is military courage; this is due to experience and to knowledge, not of what is formidable, as Socrates said,4 but of ways of encountering what is formidable. Third is the courage due to inexperience and ignorance, that makes children and madmen face things rushing on them, or grasp snakes. Another is the courage caused by hope, which often makes those who have had a stroke of luck endure dangers, [20] and those who are intoxicated—for wine makes men sanguine. Another is due to some irrational emotion, for example love or passion. For if a man is in love he is more daring than cowardly, and endures many dangers, like the man5 who murdered the tyrant at Metapontium and the person in Crete in the story6; and similarly if a man is under the influence of anger and passion, for passion is a thing that makes him beside himself. Hence wild boars are thought to be brave, though they are not really, for they are so when they are beside themselves, but otherwise they are variable, like daring men. But nevertheless the courage of passion is in the highest degree natural; passion is a thing that does not know defeat, owing to which the young are the best fighters. Civic courage is due to law. But none of these is truly courage, though they are all useful for encouragement in dangers.

Up to this point we have spoken about things formidable in general terms, but it will be better to define them more precisely. As a general term the formidable denotes what causes fear, and that is of a property of things that appear capable of causing pain of a destructive kind: for persons expecting some other pain might perhaps experience a different sort of pain and a different feeling, but will not have fear—for example if a man foresaw that he was going to feel the pain felt by the jealous, or the sort of pain felt by the envious or by those who are ashamed. But fear only occurs in the case of pains that seem likely to be of the kind whose nature it is to destroy life. [1229b] [1] Hence some people who are even very soft about certain things are brave, and some who are hard and enduring are also cowardly. Moreover it is thought to be almost a special property of courage to be of a certain disposition in regard to death and the pain of death; for if a man were such as to be capable of rational endurance in respect of heat and cold and pains of that sort that are not dangerous, but at the same time soft and excessively timid about death, not because of any other feeling but just because it brings destruction, while another man was soft in regard to those pains but impassive as regards death, the former would be thought a coward and the latter brave. For we speak of danger only in the case of such formidable things as bring near to us what causes destruction of that sort, and when this appears near it appears to be danger.

The formidable things, therefore, in relation to which we speak of a man as brave are, we have said, those that appear likely to cause pain of the destructive kind—provided that these appear close at hand and not far off, and are or appear to be of a magnitude proportionate to a human being; for some things must necessarily appear fearful to every human being and throw everybody into alarm, since it is quite possible that, [20] just as heat and cold and some of the other forces are above us and above the conditions of the human body, so also are some mental sufferings.

Therefore whereas the cowardly and the daring are mistaken owing to their characters, since the coward thinks things not formidable formidable and things slightly formidable extremely formidable, and the daring man on the contrary thinks formidable things perfectly safe and extremely formidable things only slightly formidable, to the brave man on the other hand things seem exactly what they are. Hence a man is not brave if he endures formidable things through ignorance (for instance, if owing to madness he were to endure a flight of thunderbolts), nor if he does so owing to passion when knowing the greatness of the danger, as the Celts 'take arms and march against the waves'7; and in general, the courage of barbarians has an element of passion. And some men endure terrors for the sake of other pleasures also—for even passion contains pleasure of a sort, since it is combined with hope of revenge. But nevertheless neither if a man endures death for the sake of this pleasure nor for another, nor for the sake of avoiding greater pains, would any of these persons justly be termed brave. For if dying were pleasant, profligates would be dying constantly, owing to lack of self-control, just as even as it is, when, although death itself is not pleasant, things that cause it are, many men through lack of self control knowingly encounter it; none of whom would be thought brave, even though he were thought to die quite readily. Nor yet are any of those brave who, as many men do, commit suicide to escape from trouble, as Agathon8 says: [1230a] [1]

  “
  The base among mankind, by toil o'ercome,
  Conceive a love of death.
  ”
  Agathon Fr. 7

As also Cheiron,9 in the legendary story of the poets, because of the pain from his wound prayed that though immortal he might die. And in like manner to these, all who face dangers because of experience are not brave; this is how perhaps most of the military class face dangers. For the fact is the exact opposite of the view of Socrates, who thought that bravery was knowledge: sailors who know how to go aloft are not daring through knowing what things are formidable, but because they know how to protect themselves against the dangers; also courage is not merely what makes men more daring fighters, for in that case strength and wealth would be courage—as Theognis puts it:

  “
  For every man by poverty subdued.
  ”
  Theog. 177

10

But manifestly some men do face emergencies in spite of being cowards, owing to experience, and they do so because they do not think that there is any danger, as they know how to protect themselves. A proof of this is that when they think that they have no protection and that the cause of alarm is now close at hand, they turn tail. But among all such causes, it is when shame makes men face what is alarming that they would appear to be bravest, as Homer says Hector faced the danger of encountering Achilles: “ And shame on Hector seized— ” Source unknown 11 [20] and

  “ Polydamas will be the first to taunt me.
  ”
  Hom. Il. 22.100

12

Civic courage is this kind. But true courage is neither this nor any of the others, though it resembles them, as does the courage of wild animals, which are led by passion to rush to meet the blow. For it is not from fear that he will incur disgrace that a man ought to stand his ground, nor from motives of anger, nor because he does not think that he will be killed or because he has forces to protect him, for in that case he will not think that there is really anything to be afraid of. But, since indeed all goodness involves purposive choice (it has been said before what we mean by this—goodness makes a man choose everything for the sake of some object, and that object is what is fine), it is clear that courage being a form of goodness will make a man face formidable things for some object, so that he does not do it through ignorance (for it rather makes him judge correctly), nor yet for pleasure, but because it is fine, since in a case where it is not fine but insane he will not face them, for then it would be base to do so.

We have now given an account that is fairly adequate for our present procedure of the kind of things in relation to which Courage is a middle state, and between what vices and for what reason it is this, and what is the power that formidable things exercise.

We must next attempt to decide about Temperance and Profligacy. The term 'profligate' (unchaste) has a variety of meanings. It means the man who has not been (as it were) 'chastised' or cured, just as 'undivided' means one that has not been divided; and these terms include both one capable of the process and one not capable of it: [1230b] [1] 'undivided' means both that which cannot be divided and that which though it can be has not been; and similarly with 'unchaste'—it denotes both that which is by nature incapable of chastening and that which, though capable, has not actually been chastened in respect of the errors as regards which the temperate man acts rightly, as is the case with children; for of them it is in this sense that the term 'unchaste'13 is used, whereas another use of it again refers to persons hard to cure or entirely incurable by chastisement. But though 'profligacy' has more than one sense, it is clear that the profligate are concerned with certain pleasures and pains and that they differ from one another and from the other vicious characters in being disposed in a certain manner towards these; and we described previously the way in which we apply the term 'profligacy' by analogy.14 Persons on the other hand who owing to insensitiveness are uninfluenced by these pleasures are called by some people 'insensitive' and by others are designated by other names of the same sort; but the state is not a very familiar one nor of common occurrence, because all men err more in the other direction, and susceptibility and sensitiveness to pleasures of this sort are natural to everybody. It specially attaches to persons like the boors who are a stock character in comedy— [20] people who steer clear of pleasures even in moderate and necessary indulgences.

And since the temperate character is shown in connection with pleasures, it follows that it is also related to certain desires. We must, therefore, ascertain what these are. For the temperate man is not temperate about all pleasures nor about everything pleasant, but apparently about the objects of two of the senses, taste and touch, and in reality about the objects of touch. For the temperate man is not concerned with the pleasure of beautiful things (apart from sexual desire) or pain caused by ugly things, the medium of which is sight, nor with the pleasure of harmonious sounds or pain of discords conveyed through the medium of hearing, nor yet with the pleasures and pains of smell, derived from good and bad scents; for neither is anyone termed profligate because of being sensitive or not sensitive to sensations of that sort— for example, a man would not be considered profligate if when looking at a beautiful statue or horse or person, or listening to someone singing, he did not wish for food or drink or sexual indulgence but only wished to look at the beautiful objects or listen to the music,—any more than the persons held spell-bound in the abode of the Sirens. Temperance and profligacy have to do with those two sorts of sensory objects in relation to which alone the lower animals also happen to be sensitive and to feel pleasure and pain—the objects of taste and of touch, whereas about virtually all the pleasures of the other senses alike animals are clearly so constituted as to be insensitive— [1231a] [1] e.g. harmonious sound, or beauty; for clearly they are not affected in any degree worth speaking of by the mere sight of beautiful objects or by listening to musical sounds, except possibly in the case of some miraculous occurrences. Nor yet are they sensitive to good or bad smells, although it is true that all their senses are keener than man's; but even the smells they enjoy are those that have agreeable associations, and are not intrinsically agreeable. By smells not intrinsically agreeable I mean those that we enjoy because of either anticipation or recollection, for example the smell of things to eat or drink, for we enjoy these scents on account of a different pleasure, that of eating or drinking; by intrinsically agreeable I mean scents such as those of flowers (this is the reason of Stratonicus's15 neat remark that the scent of flowers is beautiful but that of things to eat and drink sweet). For even the pleasures of taste are not all attractive to animals, nor are those perceived with the tip of the tongue, but those perceived by the throat, the sensation of which seems more like touch than taste; so that gourmands do not pray that they may have a long tongue but a crane's gullet, like Philoxenus son of Eryxis.16 It follows that broadly speaking profligacy must be considered to be related to the objects of touch, and likewise it is with pleasures of that sort that the profligate is concerned; [20] for tippling and gluttony and lechery and gormandizing and the like all have to do with the sensations specified, and these are the departments into which profligacy is divided. But nobody is called profligate if he exceeds in regard to the pleasures of sight or hearing or smell; those errors we criticize without severe rebuke, and generally all the things included under the term 'lack of self-control': the uncontrolled are not profligate, yet they are not temperate.

Therefore the person of such a character as to be deficient in all the enjoyments which practically everybody must share and must enjoy, is insensitive (or whatever the proper term is), and he that exceeds in them is profligate. For all people by nature enjoy these things, and conceive desires for them, without being or being called profligate, for they do not exceed by feeling more joy than they ought when they get them nor more pain than they ought when they do not get them; nor yet are they unfeeling,17 for they do not fall short in feeling joy or pain, but rather exceed.

And since there are excess and deficiency in regard to these things, it is clear that there is also a middle state, and that this state of character is the best one, and is the opposite of both the others. Hence if temperance is the best state of character in relation to the things with which the profligate is concerned, the middle state in regard to the pleasant objects of sense mentioned will be Temperance, being a middle state between profligacy and insensitiveness: the excess will be Profligacy, [1231b] [1] and the deficiency will either be nameless or will be denoted by the terms mentioned.18 We shall have to define the class of pleasures concerned more exactly in our discussion of Self-control and Lack of Control later on.

And also the nature of Gentleness and Harshness must be ascertained in the same way. For we see that the term 'gentle' is concerned with the pain that arises from passion—a man is gentle by being disposed in a certain way towards that pain. And in our diagram19 we opposed to the irascible and harsh and fierce man (for all such traits belong to the same disposition) the slavish and spiritless20 man; for these are perhaps the most usual words to denote those whose passion is not aroused even at all the things at which it ought to be, but who undergo insulting treatment readily and meet slights with humility; since as opposed to feeling the pain that we call passion quickly, extremely or for a long time there is feeling it slowly, slightly, or for a short time. And since, as we said in the other cases, so here also there is excess and deficiency (for the harsh man is the sort of man that feels this emotion too quickly, too long, at the wrong time, with the wrong kind of people, and with many people, [20] while the slavish man is the opposite), it is clear that there is also some body who is at the middle point in the inequality.21 Since, therefore, both those states of character are wrong, it is clear that the state midway between them is right, for it is neither too hasty nor too slow-tempered, nor does it get angry with the people with whom it ought not nor fail to get angry with those with whom it ought. So that since the best state of character in regard to those feelings is gentleness, Gentleness also would be a middle state, and the gentle man would be midway between the harsh man and the slavish man.

Greatness of Spirit and Magnificence and Liberality are also middle states. Liberality is the mean in regard to the acquisition and expenditure of wealth. The man who is more pleased than he ought to be by all acquisition and more pained than he ought to be by all expenditure is mean, he that feels both feelings less than he ought is prodigal, and he that feels both as he ought is liberal (what I mean by 'as he ought,' both in this and in the other cases, is 'as right principle directs'). And since the two former characters consist in excess and deficiency, and where there are extremes there is also a mean, and that mean is best, there being a single best for each kind of action, a single thing, it necessarily follows that liberality is a middle state between prodigality and meanness as regards getting and parting with wealth. But the terms 'wealth' and 'art of wealth' we use in two senses, since one way of using an article of property, [1232a] [1] for example a shoe or a cloak, is proper to the article itself,22 another is accidental, though not as using a shoe for a weight would be an accidental use of it, but for example selling it or letting it on hire, for these uses do employ it as a shoe. The covetous man is the party whose interest centers on money, and money is a thing of ownership instead of accidental use. But the mean man might be even prodigal in regard to the accidental mode of getting wealth, inasmuch as it is in the natural acquisition of wealth that he pursues increase. The prodigal man lacks necessities, but the liberal man gives his superfluity. And of these classes themselves there are species designated as exceeding or deficient in respect of parts of the matter concerned: for example, the stingy man, the skinflint and the profiteer are mean—the stingy in not parting with money, the profiteer in accepting anything, the skinflint is he who is very excited about small sums; also the man who offends by way of meanness is a false reckoner and a cheat. Similarly 'prodigal' includes the spendthrift who is prodigal in unregulated spending and the reckless man who is prodigal in not being able to endure the pain of calculation.

On the subject of Greatness of Spirit we must define its characteristic from the attributes of the great-spirited man. [20] For just as in the other cases of things that, owing to their affinity and similarity up to a point, are not noticed to differ when they advance further, the same has happened about greatness of spirit. Hence sometimes the opposite characters claim the same quality, for instance the extravagant man claims to be the same as the liberal, the self-willed as the proud, the daring as the brave; for they are concerned with the same things, and also are neighbors up to a point, as the brave man can endure dangers and so can the daring man, but the former in one way and the latter in another, and that makes a very great difference. And we use the term 'great-spirited' according to the designation of the word, as consisting in a certain greatness or power of spirit. So that the great-spirited man seems to resemble both the proud man and the magnificent, because greatness of spirit seems to go with all the virtues also. For it is praiseworthy to judge great and small goods rightly; and those goods seem great which a man pursues who possesses the best state of character in relation to such pleasures, and greatness of spirit is the best. And the virtue concerned with each thing judges rightly the greater and the smaller good, just as the wise man and virtue would bid, so that all the virtues go with it, or it goes with all the virtues.

Again, it is thought characteristic of the great-spirited man to be disdainful. Each virtue makes men disdainful of things irrationally deemed great: [1232b] [1] for example, courage makes a man disdainful of dangers, for he thinks that to consider danger a great matter is a disgraceful thing, and that numbers are not always formidable; and the sober-minded man disdains great and numerous pleasures, and the liberal man wealth. But the reason why this is thought characteristic of the great-spirited man is because of his caring about few things and those great ones, and not about whatever somebody else thinks. And a great-spirited man would consider more what one virtuous man thinks than what many ordinary people think, as Antiphon after his condemnation said to Agathon when he praised his speech for his defence.23 And a feeling thought to be specially characteristic of the great-spirited man is disdain. On the other hand, as to the accepted objects of human interest, honor, life, wealth, he is thought to care nothing about any of them except honor; it would grieve him to be dishonored and ruled by someone unworthy, and his greatest joy is to obtain honor.

Thus he might therefore be thought inconsistent, on the ground that to be specially concerned about honor and to be disdainful of the multitude and of reputation do not go together. But in saying this we must distinguish. Honor is small or great in two ways: it differs in being conferred either by many ordinary people or by persons of consideration, and again it differs in what it is conferred for, [20] since its greatness does not depend only on the number or the quality of those who confer it, but also on its being honorable; and in reality those offices and other good things are honorable and worthy of serious pursuit that are truly great, so that there is no goodness without greatness; owing to which each of the virtues seems to make men great-spirited in regard to the things with which that virtue is concerned, as we said.24 But nevertheless there is a single virtue of greatness of spirit side by side with the other virtues, so that the possessor of this virtue must be termed great-spirited in a special sense. And since there are certain goods which are in some cases honorable and in others not, according to the distinction made before,25 and of goods of this sort some are truly great and others small, and some men deserve and claim the former, it is among these men that the great-spirited man must be looked for. And there are necessarily four varieties of claim: it is possible to deserve great things and to claim them as one's desert; and there are small things and a man may deserve and claim things of that size; and as regards each of these two classes of things the reverse is possible—one man may be of such a character that although deserving small things he claims great ones—the goods held in high honor, and another man though deserving great things may claim small ones. Now the man worthy of small things but claiming great ones is blameworthy, for it is foolish and not fine to obtain what does not correspond to one's deserts. And he also is blameworthy who though worthy of such things does not deem himself worthy to partake of them although they are available for him. [1233a] [1] But there is left here the man who is the opposite of both of these, who being worthy of great things claims them as his desert,26 and is of such a character as to deem himself worthy27: he is praiseworthy, and he is in the middle between the two. Since, therefore, greatness of spirit is the best disposition in relation to the choice and the employment of honor and of the other good things that are esteemed, and not in relation to useful things, and since we assign this to the great-spirited man, and since also at the same time the middle state is most praiseworthy, it is clear that even greatness of spirit must be a middle state. And of the opposites as shown in our diagram, the one in the direction of deeming oneself worthy of great goods when one is not worthy is vanity (for the sort of men that fancy themselves worthy of great things though they are not we call vain), and the one that is concerned with not deeming oneself worthy of great things when one is worthy of them is smallness of spirit (for if a man does not think himself worthy of anything great although he possesses qualities which would justly make him considered worthy of it, he is thought small-spirited); so that it follows that greatness of spirit is a middle state between vanity and smallness of spirit. But the fourth of the persons in our classification is neither entirely reprehensible nor is he great spirited, as he is concerned with nothing possessing greatness, for he neither is nor thinks himself worthy of great things; owing to which he is not the opposite of the man of great spirit. [20] Yet thinking oneself worthy of small things when one is worthy of small things might be thought the opposite of thinking oneself worthy of great ones when one is worthy of great ones; but he is not opposite to the great-spirited man because he is not blameworthy either, for his character is as reason bids, and in nature he is the same as the great-spirited man, for both claim as their desert the things that they are worthy of. And he might become great-spirited, for he will claim the things that he is worthy of; whereas the small-spirited man, who when great goods corresponding to his worth are available does not think himself worthy of them—what would he have done if his deserts were small? For either he would have conceitedly thought himself worthy of great things, or of still less.28 Hence nobody would call a man small-spirited for not claiming to hold office and submitting to authority if he is a resident alien, but one would do so if he were of noble birth and attached great importance to office.

The Magnificent Man also (except in a case when we are using the term metaphorically) is not concerned with any and every action and purposive choice, but with expenditure. Without expenditure there is no magnificence, for it is what is appropriate in ornament, and ornament does not result from any chance expenditure, but consists in going beyond the merely necessary. Therefore the magnificent man is the man who purposively chooses the appropriate greatness in great expenditure, and who even on the occasion of a pleasure29 of this nature aims at this sort of moderation. There is no name denoting the man who likes spending to excess and inappropriately; however the persons whom some people call tasteless and swaggering have a certain affinity to him.30 [1233b] [1] For instance if a rich man spending money on the wedding of a favorite thinks it fitting for him to have the sort of arrangements that would be fitting when entertaining abstainers,31 he is shabby, while one who entertains guests of that sort after the manner of a wedding feast, if he does not do it for the sake of reputation or to gain an office, resembles the swaggerer; but he that entertains suitably and as reason directs is magnificent, for the fitting is the suitable, as nothing is fitting that is unsuitable. But it must be fitting in each particular, that is, in suitability to the agent and to the recipient and to the occasion—for example, what is fitting at the wedding of a servant is not what is fitting at that of a favorite; and it is fitting for the agent himself, if it is of an amount or quality suitable to him—for example people thought that the mission that Themistocles conducted to Olympia was not fitting for him, because of his former low station, but would have been for Cimon.32 But he who is casual in regard to the question of suitability is not in any of these classes.

Similarly in regard to liberality: a man may be neither liberal nor illiberal.

Generally speaking the other praiseworthy and blameworthy states of character also are excesses or deficiencies or middle states, but in respect of an emotion: for instance, the envious man and the malicious. For—to take the states of character after which they are named— [20] Envy means being pained at people who are deservedly prosperous, while the emotion of the malicious man is itself nameless, but the possessor of it is shown by his feeling joy at undeserved adversities; and midway between them is the righteously indignant man, and what the ancients called Righteous Indignation—feeling pain at undeserved adversities and prosperities and pleasure at those that are deserved; hence the idea that Nemesis is a deity.

Modesty is a middle state between Shamelessness and Bashfulness: the man who pays regard to nobody's opinion is shameless, he who regards everybody's is bashful, he who regards the opinion of those who appear good is modest.

Friendliness is a middle state between Animosity and Flattery; the man who accommodates himself readily to his associates' desires in everything is a flatterer, he who runs counter to them all shows animosity, he who neither falls in with nor resists every pleasure, but falls in with what seems to be the best, is friendly.

Dignity is a middle state between Self-will and Obsequiousness. A man who in his conduct pays no regard at all to another but is contemptuous is self-willed; he who regards another in everything and is inferior to everybody is obsequious; he who regards another in some things but not in others, and is regardful of persons worthy of regard, is dignified.

The truthful and sincere man, called 'downright,'33 is midway between the dissembler and the charlatan. He that wittingly makes a false statement against himself that is depreciatory is a dissembler, [1234a] [1] he that exaggerates his merits is a charlatan, he that speaks of himself as he is is truthful and in Homer's phrase 'sagacious'; and in general the one is a lover of truth and the others lovers of falsehood.Wittiness34 also is a middle state, and the witty man is midway between the boorish or stiff man and the buffoon. For just as in the matter of food the squeamish man differs from the omnivorous in that the former takes nothing or little, and that reluctantly, and the latter accepts everything readily, so the boor stands in relation to the vulgar man or buffoon—the former takes no joke except with difficulty, the latter accepts everything easily and with pleasure. Neither course is right: one should allow some things and not others, and on principle,—that constitutes the witty man. The proof of the formula is the same as in the other cases: wittiness of this kind (not the quality35 to which we apply the term in a transferred sense) is a very becoming sort of character, and also a middle state is praiseworthy, whereas extremes are blameworthy. But as there are two kinds of wit (one consisting in liking a joke, even one that tells against oneself if it is funny, for instance a jeer, the other in the ability to produce things of this sort), these kinds of wit differ from one another, but both are middle states; [20] for a man who can produce jokes of a sort that will give pleasure to a person of good judgement even though the laugh is against himself will be midway between the vulgar man and the frigid. This is a better definition than that the thing said must not be painful to the victim whatever sort of man he may be—rather, it must give pleasure to the man in the middle position, since his judgement is good.

All these middle states, though praiseworthy, are not virtues, nor are the opposite states vices, for they do not involve purposive choice; they are all in the classification of the emotions, for each of them is an emotion. But because they are natural they contribute to the natural virtues; for, as will be said in what follows,36 each virtue exists both naturally and otherwise, that is, in conjunction with thought. Therefore envy contributes to injustice (for the actions that spring from it affect another person), and righteous indignation to justice, and modesty to temperance (owing to which people even define temperance as a species of emotion), and the sincere and false are respectively wise and foolish.37

And the mean is more opposed to the extremes than the extremes are to one another, [1234b] [1] because the mean does not occur in combination with either extreme, whereas the extremes often do occur in combination with one another, and sometimes the same men are venturesome cowards, or extravagant in some things and illiberal in others, and in general not uniform in a bad way— for when men lack uniformity in a good way, this results in men of the middle characters, since the mean contains both extremes.

The opposition existing between the mean and the extremes does not seem to be the same in the case of both the extremes, but sometimes the greater opposition is by way of excess, sometimes by way of deficiency. The causes of this are partly the two first mentioned,38 rarity (for example, the rarity of people insensitive to pleasant things) and the fact that the error to which we are more prone seems more opposite to the mean, and thirdly the fact that the extreme that more resembles the mean seems less opposite to it, as is the case with daring in relation to boldness39 and extravagance in relation to liberality. We have therefore sufficiently discussed the other praiseworthy virtues, and must now speak about Justice.40

1 Aristot. Eud. Eth. 1220b 39, Aristot. Eud. Eth. 1221a 17-19.

2 Or, emending the text, 'of corresponding fear.'

3 The words 'the healthy, strong and brave . . . mass of men' are a conjectural addition to the Ms. text.

4 Plat. Prot. 360d.

5 Unknown.

6 Unknown

7 This appears to be loosely quoted from a verse passage: cf. Aristot. Nic. Eth. 1115b 25. An echo of the story survives in Shakespeare's metaphor, 'to take arms against a sea of troubles.'

8 Athenian tragic poet, friend of Plato.

9 The Centaur sage and physician, accidentally wounded by a poisoned arrow of Heracles, transferred his immortality to Prometheus.

10 Theognis 177.

11 Not in our Homer.

12 Hom. Il. 22.100

13 ἀκόλαστος(lit. 'incorrigible') often means no more than 'naughty' (Solomon).

14 This seems to refer to words which must have been lost at Aristot. Eud. Eth. 1221a 20 (Solomon).

15 A contemporary musician, a number of whose smart sayings are recorded by Athenaeus 8.347f-352d.

16 Mr. Hospitable, son of Mistress Belch—presumably a character in comedy.

17 ἀνάλγητοι is thrown in as a possible synonym for ἀναίσθητοι, see 15.

18 Perhaps in a sentence lost at Aristot. Eud. Eth. 1230b 15.

19 See Aristot. Eud. Eth. 1220b 38, Aristot. Eud. Eth. 1221b 12-15.

20 The Mss. give 'slavish and senseless.'

21 i.e. half-way between excess and defect.

22 Cf. Aristot. Pol. 1257a 14, where the use of a shoe for sale is included with its use for wear under χρῆσις καθ᾽ αὑτό, but distinguished from it as οὐχ ὁμοίως καθ᾽ αὑτό, because not its οἰκεία χρῆσις, οὐ γὰρ ἀλλαγῆς ἕνεκα γέγονεν. The term χρήματα itself denotes to the Greek ear 'useful things.'

23 A variant reading gives 'as A. said to A. when he insincerely praised his defence.' For Antiphon's indictment as a leader in the revolution of the Four Hundred at Athens see Thuc. 8.68. Agathon is presumably the tragic poet, see Plato's Symposium. The anecdote is not recorded elsewhere.

24 See 39.

25 i.e. ll. 17 ff.

26 The Greek phrase combines the senses of rating one's deserts high and asserting one's claims.

27 Or, emending the text, 'and is as worthy as he claims to be.'

28 The Ms. reading hardly gives a sense. An emendation gives 'for if he conceitedly thought himself worthy of great things when unworthy,' and supposes a gap in the text before the following words.

29 A probable emendation substitutes 'expenditure' for 'pleasure.'

30 The Ms. text gives 'he has a certain set of neighbors whom some people call . . .': but γειτνίασις is abstract at Aristot. Eud. Eth. 1232a 21 and Aristot. Pol. 1257a 2. Its concrete use in later Greek, 'neighborhood'='set of neighbors' (Plutarch, etc.) has led to corruption here.

31 i.e. persons who only drink the formal toast ('Here's to Good Luck'), with which the dinner ended.

32 The story of Themistocles at the Olympic festival incurring disapproval by vying with Cimon in the splendor of his equipment and entertainments is told by Plut. Them. 5.

33 The man who calls each thing itself, i.e. what it really is, calls a spade a spade.

34 The term εὐτράπελος means literally 'able to turn easily,' versatile; it denotes both 'witty' and 'easy-going.'

35 Viz. βωμολοχία, 'buffoonery,' Aristot. Nic. Eth. 1128a 15.

36 Not in Eud. Eth, but cf. Aristot. Nic. Eth. 1144b 1-17.

37 Truthfulness and mendacity contribute to wisdom and folly as νέμεσις and φθόνος do to δικαιοσύνη and ἀδικία, and αἰδώς(and ἀναιδεία) to σωφροσύνη(and ἀκολασία).

38 Cf. Aristot. Eud. Eth. 1222a 22-b 4.

39 Or, 'confidence'; but perhaps the Greek should be altered to give 'courage.'

40 Books 4, 5, and 6 are omitted, as they are identical with Books 5, 6, and 7 of the Nicomachean Ethics.