EUDEMIAN ETHICS

Aristotle

The Complete Works of Aristotle

Electronic markup by Jamie L. Spriggs InteLex Corporation P.O. Box 859, Charlottesville, Virginia, 22902-0859, USA Available via ftp or on Macintosh or DOS CD-ROM from the publisher.

Complete Works (Aristotle). Jonathan Barnes, Princeton University Press, Princeton, N.J. 1991.

These texts are part of the Past Masters series. This series is an attempt to collect the most important texts in the history of philosophy, both in original language and English translation (if the original language is other English). All Greek has been transliterated and is delimited with the term tag.

May 1996 Jamie L. Spriggs, InteLex Corp. publisher Converted from Folio Flat File to TEI.2-compatible SGML; checked against print text; parsed against local teilite dtd.

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ARISTOTLE THE REVISED OXFORD TRANSLATION Edited by JONATHAN BARNES VOLUME TWO BOLLINGEN SERIES LXXI 2 PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS Copyright 1984 by The Jowett Copyright Trustees Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William St., Princeton, New Jersey In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, Oxford No part of this electronic edition may be printed without written permission from The Jowett Copyright Trustees and Princeton University Press. All Rights Reserved THIS IS PART TWO OF THE SEVENTY-FIRST IN A SERIES OF WORKS SPONSORED BY BOLLINGEN FOUNDATION Printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey Second Printing, 1985 Fourth Printing, 1991 987654

Contents
Preface . . . . . . . . . Acknowledgements . . Note to the Reader . . EUDEMIAN ETHICS Book I . . . . . . Book II . . . . . Book III . . . . . Book VII . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii v vi 2 2 11 31 44

PREFACE
BENJAMIN JOWETT1 published his translation of Aristotles Politics in 1885, and he nursed the desire to see the whole of Aristotle done into English. In his will he left the perpetual copyright on his writings to Balliol College, desiring that any royalties should be invested and that the income from the investment should be applied in the rst place to the improvement or correction of his own books, and secondly to the making of New Translations or Editions of Greek Authors. In a codicil to the will, appended less than a month before his death, he expressed the hope that the translation of Aristotle may be nished as soon as possible. The Governing Body of Balliol duly acted on Jowetts wish: J. A. Smith, then a Fellow of Balliol and later Waynete Professor of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, and W. D. Ross, a Fellow of Oriel College, were appointed as general editors to supervise the project of translating all of Aristotles writings into English; and the College came to an agreement with the Delegates of the Clarendon Press for the publication of the work. The rst volume of what came to be known as The Oxford Translation of Aristotle appeared in 1908. The work continued under the joint guidance of Smith and Ross, and later under Rosss sole editorship. By 1930, with the publication of the eleventh volume, the whole of the standard corpus aristotelicum had been put into English. In 1954 Ross added a twelfth volume, of selected fragments, and thus completed the task begun almost half a century earlier. The translators whom Smith and Ross collected together included the most eminent English Aristotelians of the age; and the translations reached a remarkable standard of scholarship and delity to the text. But no translation is perfect, and all translations date: in 1976, the Jowett Trustees, in whom the copyright of the Translation lies, determined to commission a revision of the entire text. The Oxford Translation was to remain in substance its original self; but alterations were to be made, where advisable, in the light of recent scholarship and with the requirements of modern readers in mind. The present volumes thus contain a revised Oxford Translation: in all but three treatises, the original versions have been conserved with only mild emendations.
The text of Aristotle: The Complete Works is The Revised Oxford Translation of The Complete Works of Aristotle, edited by Jonathan Barnes, and published by Princeton University Press in 1984. Each reference line contains the approximate Bekker number range of the paragraph if the work in question was included in the Bekker edition.
1

PREFACE

iii

(The three exceptions are the Categories and de Interpretatione, where the translations of J. L. Ackrill have been substituted for those of E. M. Edgehill, and the Posterior Analytics, where G. R. G. Mures version has been replaced by that of J. Barnes. The new translations have all been previously published in the Clarendon Aristotle series.) In addition, the new Translation contains the tenth book of the History of Animals, and the third book of the Economics, which were not done for the original Translation; and the present selection from the fragments of Aristotles lost works includes a large number of passages which Ross did not translate. In the original Translation, the amount and scope of annotation differed greatly from one volume to the next: some treatises carried virtually no footnotes, others (notably the biological writings) contained almost as much scholarly commentary as textthe work of Ogle on the Parts of Animals or of dArcy Thompson on the History of Animals, Beares notes to On Memory or Joachims to On Indivisible Lines, were major contributions to Aristotelian scholarship. Economy has demanded that in the revised Translation annotation be kept to a minimum; and all the learned notes of the original version have been omitted. While that omission represents a considerable impoverishment, it has reduced the work to a more manageable bulk, and at the same time it has given the constituent translations a greater uniformity of character. It might be added that the revision is thus closer to Jowetts own intentions than was the original Translation. The revisions have been slight, more abundant in some treatises than in others but amounting, on the average, to some fty alterations for each Bekker page of Greek. Those alterations can be roughly classied under four heads. (i) A quantity of work has been done on the Greek text of Aristotle during the past half century: in many cases new and better texts are now available, and the reviser has from time to time emended the original Translation in the light of this research. (But he cannot claim to have made himself intimate with all the textual studies that recent scholarship has thrown up.) A standard text has been taken for each treatise, and the few departures from it, where they affect the sense, have been indicated in footnotes. On the whole, the reviser has been conservative, sometimes against his inclination. (ii) There are occasional errors or infelicities of translation in the original version: these have been corrected insofar as they have been observed. (iii) The English of the original Translation now seems in some respects archaic in its vocabulary and in its syntax: no attempt has been made to impose a consistently modern style upon the translations, but where archaic English might mislead the modern reader, it has been replaced by more current idiom.

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(iv) The fourth class of alterations accounts for the majority of changes made by the reviser. The original Translation is often paraphrastic: some of the translators used paraphrase freely and deliberately, attempting not so much to English Aristotles Greek as to explain in their own words what he was intending to conveythus translation turns by slow degrees into exegesis. Others construed their task more narrowly, but even in their more modest versions expansive paraphrase from time to time intrudes. The revision does not pretend to eliminate paraphrase altogether (sometimes paraphrase is venial; nor is there any precise boundary between translation and paraphrase); but it does endeavor, especially in the logical and philosophical parts of the corpus, to replace the more blatantly exegetical passages of the original by something a little closer to Aristotles text. The general editors of the original Translation did not require from their translators any uniformity in the rendering of technical and semitechnical terms. Indeed, the translators themselves did not always strive for uniformity within a single treatise or a single book. Such uniformity is surely desirable; but to introduce it would have been a massive task, beyond the scope of this revision. Some effort has, however, been made to remove certain of the more capricious variations of translation (especially in the more philosophical of Aristotles treatises). Nor did the original translators try to mirror in their English style the style of Aristotles Greek. For the most part, Aristotle is terse, compact, abrupt, his arguments condensed, his thought dense. For the most part, the Translation is owing and expansive, set out in well-rounded periods and expressed in a language which is usually literary and sometimes orotund. To that extent the Translation produces a false impression of what it is like to read Aristotle in the original; and indeed it is very likely to give a misleading idea of the nature of Aristotles philosophizing, making it seem more polished and nished than it actually is. In the revisers opinion, Aristotles sinewy Greek is best translated into correspondingly tough English; but to achieve that would demand a new translation, not a revision. No serious attempt has been made to alter the style of the originala style which, it should be said, is in itself elegant enough and pleasing to read. The reviser has been aided by several friends; and he would like to acknowledge in particular the help of Mr. Gavin Lawrence and Mr. Donald Russell. He remains acutely conscious of the numerous imperfections that are left. Yetas Aristotle himself would have put itthe work was laborious, and the reader must forgive the reviser for his errors and give him thanks for any improvements which he may chance to have effected. March 1981 J. B.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE TRANSLATIONS of the Categories and the de Interpretatione are reprinted here by permission of Professor J. L. Ackrill and Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1963); the translation of the Posterior Analytics is reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1975); the translation of the third book of the Economics is reprinted by permission of The Loeb Classical Library (William Heinemann and Harvard University Press); the translation of the fragments of the Protrepticus is based, with the authors generous permission, on the version by Professor Ingemar D uring.

NOTE TO THE READER

THE TRADITIONAL corpus aristotelicum contains several works which were certainly or probably not written by Aristotle. A single asterisk against the title of a work indicates that its authenticity has been seriously doubted; a pair of asterisks indicates that its spuriousness has never been seriously contested. These asterisks appear both in the Table of Contents and on the title pages of the individual works concerned. The title page of each work contains a reference to the edition of the Greek text against which the translation has been checked. References are by editors name, series or publisher (OCT stands for Oxford Classical Texts), and place and date of publication. In those places where the translation deviates from the chosen text and prefers a different reading in the Greek, a footnote marks the fact and indicates which reading is preferred; such places are rare. The numerals printed in the outer margins key the translation to Immanuel Bekkers standard edition of the Greek text of Aristotle of 1831. References consist of a page number, a column letter, and a line number. Thus 1343a marks column one of page 1343 of Bekkers edition; and the following 5, 10, 15, etc. stand against lines 5, 10, 15, etc. of that column of text. Bekker references of this type are found in most editions of Aristotles works, and they are used by all scholars who write about Aristotle.

EUDEMIAN ETHICS

EUDEMIAN ETHICS
Translated by J. Solomon2

Book I
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1 The man who stated his judgement in the gods precinct in Delos made an inscription on the propylaeum to the temple of Leto, in which he separated from one another the good, the beautiful, and the pleasant as not all properties of the same thing; he wrote, Most beautiful is what is most just, but best is health, and pleasantest the obtaining of what one desires. But let us disagree with him; for happiness is at once the most beautiful and best of all things and also the pleasantest. Now about each thing and kind there are many views that are disputed and need investigation; of these some concern knowledge only, some the acquisition of things and the performance of acts as well. About those which involve speculative philosophy only we must at a suitable opportunity say what is relevant to that study. But rst we must consider in what the good life consists and how it is to be acquired, whether all who receive the epithet happy become so by nature (as we become tall, short, or of different complexions), or by teaching (happiness being a sort of science), or by some sort of disciplinefor men acquire many qualities neither by nature nor by teaching but by habituation, bad qualities if they are habituated to the bad, good if to the good. Or do men become happy in none
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TEXT: F. Susemihl, Teubner, Leipzig, 1884

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book I

of these ways, but eitherlike those possessed by nymphs or deitiesthrough a sort of divine inuence, being as it were inspired, or through chance? For many declare happiness to be identical with good luck. That men, then, possess happiness through all or some or one of these causes is evident; for practically all events come under these principlesfor all acts arising from intelligence may be included among acts that arise from knowledge. Now to be happy, to live blissfully and beautifully, must consist mainly in three things, which seem most desirable; for some say practical wisdom is the greatest good, some excellence, and some pleasure. Some also dispute about the magnitude of the contribution made by each of these elements to happiness, some declaring the contribution of one to be greater, some that of anotherthese regarding wisdom as a greater good than excellence, those the opposite, while others regard pleasure as a greater good than either; and some consider the happy life to be compounded of all or of two of these, while others hold it to consist in one of them alone. 2 First then about these things we must enjoin every one that has the power to live according to his own choice to set up for himself some object for the good life to aim at (whether honour or reputation or wealth or culture), with reference to which he will then do all his acts, since not to have ones life organized in view of some end is a mark of much folly. Then above all we must rst dene to ourselves without hurry or carelessness in which of our belongings the happy life is lodged, and what are the indispensable conditions of its attainmentfor health is not the same as the indispensable conditions of health; and so it is with many other things, so that the good life and its indispensable conditions are not identical. Of such things some are not peculiar to health or even to life, but commonto speak broadlyto all dispositions and actions, e.g. without breathing or being awake or having the power of movement we could enjoy neither good nor evil; but some are peculiar to each kind of thing, and these it is specially important to observe; e.g. the eating of meat and walking after meals are more peculiarly the indispensable conditions of a good physical state than the more general conditions mentioned above. For herein is the cause of the disputes about happy living, its nature and causes; for some take to be elements in happiness what are merely its indispensable conditions. 3 To examine then all the views held about happiness is superuous, for children, sick people, and the insane all have views, but no sane person would dispute over them; for such persons need not argument but years in which they may change, or else medical or political correctionfor medicine, no less than

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whipping, is a correction. Similarly we have not to consider the views of the multitude (for they talk without consideration about almost everything, and most about happiness); for it is absurd to apply argument to those who need not argument but experience. But since every study has its special problems, evidently there are such relating to the best life and best existence; it is well to examine these opinions, for a disputants refutation of what is opposed to his arguments is a demonstration of the argument itself. Further, it is proper not to neglect these considerations, especially with a view to that at which all inquiry should be directed, viz. the causes that enable us to share in the good and noble lifeif any one nds it invidious to call it the blessed lifeand with a view to the hope we may have of attaining each good. For if the good life consists in what is due to fortune or nature, it would be something that many cannot hope for, since its acquisition is not in their power, nor attainable by their care or activity; but if it depends on the individual and his personal acts being of a certain character, then the supreme good would be both more general and more divine, more general because more would be able to possess it, more divine because happiness would then be the prize offered to those who make themselves and their acts of a certain character. 4 Most of the doubts and difculties raised will become clear, if we dene well what we ought to think happiness to be, whether it consists merely in having a soul of a certain characteras some of the sages and older writers thought or whether the man must indeed be of a certain character, but it is even more necessary that his acts should be of a certain character. Now if we make a division of the kinds of life, some do not even pretend to this sort of well-being, being only pursued for the sake of what is necessary, e.g. those concerned with vulgar arts, or with commercial or servile occupationsby vulgar I mean arts pursued only with a view to reputation, by servile those which are sedentary and wage-earning, by commercial those connected with selling in markets and selling in shops. But there are also three goods directed to a happy employment of life, those which we have above called the three greatest of human goods, excellence, wisdom, and pleasure. We thus see that there are three lives which all those choose who have power, viz. the lives of the political man, the philosopher, the voluptuary; for of these the philosopher intends to occupy himself with wisdom and contemplation of truth, the political man with noble acts (i.e. those springing from excellence), the voluptuary with bodily pleasures. Therefore each calls a different person happy, as was indeed said before. Anaxagoras of Clazomenae being asked, Who was the happiest of men? answered, None of

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those you suppose, but one who would appear a strange being to you, because he saw that the questioner thought it impossible for one not great and beautiful or rich to deserve the epithet happy, while he himself perhaps thought that the man who lived painlessly and pure of injustice or else engaged in some divine contemplation was really, as far as a man may be, blessed. 5 About many other things it is difcult to judge well, but most difcult about that on which judgement seems to all easiest and the knowledge of it in the power of any manviz. what of all that is found in living is desirable, and what, if attained, would satisfy our desire. For there are many consequences of life that make men ing away life, such as disease, excessive pain, storms, so that it is clear that, if one were given the power of choice, not to be born at all would, as far at least as these reasons go, have been desirable. Further, the life we lead as children is not desirable,3 for no one in his senses would consent to return again to this. Further, many incidents involving neither pleasure nor pain or involving pleasure but not of a noble kind are such that, as far as they are concerned, non-existence is preferable to life. And generally, if one were to bring together all that all men do and experience but not willingly because not for its own sake, and were to add to this an existence of innite duration, one would none the more on account of these experiences choose existence rather than non-existence. But further, neither for the pleasure of eating or that of sex, if all the other pleasures were removed that knowing or seeing or any other sense provides men with, would any man value existence, unless he were utterly servile, for it is clear that to the man making this choice there would be no difference between being born a brute and a man; at any rate the ox in Egypt, which they reverence as Apis, in most of such matters has more power than many monarchs. We may say the same of the pleasure of sleeping. For what is the difference between sleeping an unbroken sleep from ones rst day to ones last, say for a thousand or any number of years, and living the life of a plant? Plants at any rate seem to possess this sort of existence, and similarly children; for children, too, continue having their nature from their rst coming into being in their mothers womb, but sleep the entire time. It is clear then from these considerations that men, though they look, fail to see what is well-being, what is the good in life. And so they tell us that Anaxagoras answered a man who was raising problems of this sort and asking why one should choose rather to be born than not by saying for the sake of viewing the heavens and the whole order of the universe. He,
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Omitting tis.

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then, thought the choice of life for the sake of some sort of knowledge to be precious; but those who felicitate Sardanapallus or Smindyrides the Sybarite or any other of those who live the voluptuarys life, these seem all to place happiness in the feeling of pleasure. But others would rather choose excellent deeds than wisdom or sensual pleasures; at any rate some choose these not only for the sake of reputation, but even when they are not going to win credit by them; but most political men are not truly so called; they are not in truth political, for the political man is one who chooses noble acts for their own sake, while most take up the political life for the sake of money and greed. From what has been said, then, it is clear that all connect happiness with one or other of three lives, the political, the philosophic, and the voluptuarys. Now among these the nature and quality and sources of the pleasure of the body and sensual enjoyment are clear, so that we have not to inquire what such pleasures are, but whether they tend to happiness or not and how they tend, and whether supposing it right to attach to the noble life certain pleasuresit is right to attach these, or whether some other sort of participation in these is a necessity, but the pleasures through which men rightly think the happy man to live pleasantly and not merely painlessly are different. But about these let us inquire later. First let us consider excellence and wisdom, the nature of each, and whether they are parts of the good life either in themselves or through the actions that arise from them, since allor at least all important thinkersconnect happiness with these. Socrates, then, the elder, thought the knowledge of excellence to be the end, and used to inquire what is justice, what bravery and each of the parts of virtue; and his conduct was reasonable, for he thought all the excellences to be kinds of knowledge, so that to know justice and to be just came simultaneously; for the moment that we have learned geometry or building we are builders and geometers. Therefore he inquired what excellence is, not how or from what it arises. This is correct with regard to theoretical knowledge, for there is no other part of astronomy or physics or geometry except knowing and contemplating the nature of the things which are the subjects of those sciences; though nothing prevents them from being in an incidental way useful to us for much that we cannot do without. But the end of the productive sciences is different from science and knowledge, e.g. health from medical science, law and order (or something of the sort) from political science. Now to know anything that is noble is itself noble; but regarding excellence, at least, not to know what it is, but to know out of what it arises is most precious. For we do not wish to know what bravery is but to be brave, nor what justice is but to be just, just as we wish to be in health rather than to know what

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book I

being in health is, and to have our body in good condition rather than to know what good condition is. 6 About all these matters we must try to get conviction by arguments, using the phenomena as evidence and illustration. It would be best that all men should clearly concur with what we are going to say, but if that is unattainable, then that all should in some way at least concur. And this if converted they will do, for every man has some contribution to make to the truth, and with this as a startingpoint we must give some sort of proof about these matters. For by advancing from true but obscure judgements he will arrive at clear ones, always exchanging the usual confused statement for more real knowledge. Now in every inquiry there is a difference between philosophic and unphilosophic argument; therefore we should not think even in political philosophy that the sort of consideration which not only makes the nature of the thing evident but also its cause is superuous; for such consideration is in every inquiry the truly philosophic method. But this needs much caution. For there are some who, through thinking it to be the mark of a philosopher to make no arbitrary statement but always to give a reason, often unawares give reasons foreign to the subject and idlethis they do sometimes from ignorance, sometimes because they are charlatansby which reasons even men experienced and able to act are trapped by those who neither have nor are capable of having practical and constructive intelligence. And this happens to them from want of culture; for inability in regard to each matter to distinguish reasonings appropriate to the subject from those foreign to it is want of culture. And it is well to criticize separately the explanation and the conclusion both because of what has just been said, viz. that one should attend not merely to what is inferred by argument, but often attend more to the phenomenawhereas now when men are unable to see a aw in the argument they are compelled to believe what has been saidand because often that which seems to have been shown by argument is true indeed but not for the cause which the argument assigns; for one may prove truth by means of falsehood, as is clear from the Analytics. 7 After these further preliminary remarks let us start on our discourse from what we have called the rst confused judgements, and then4 seek to discover a clear judgement about the nature of happiness. Now this is admitted to be the greatest and best of human goodswe say human, for there might perhaps be a happiness peculiar to some superior being, e.g. a god; for of the other animals, which are inferior in their nature to men, none have a right to the epithet happy;
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Reading epeita for epi to.

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for no horse, bird, or sh is happy, nor anything the name of which does not imply some share of a divine element in its nature; but in virtue of some other sort of participation in good things some have a better existence, some a worse. But we must see later that this is so. At present we say that of goods some are within the range of human action, some not; and this we say because some thingsand therefore also some good thingsare incapable of change, yet these are perhaps as to their nature the best. Some things, again, are within the range of action, but only to beings superior to us. But since within the range of action is an ambiguous phrasefor both that for the sake of which we act and the things we do for its sake have to do with practice and thus we put among things within the range of action both health and wealth and the acts done for the sake of these ends, i.e. health-giving conduct and money-bringing conductit is clear that we must regard happiness as the best of what is within the range of action for man. 8 We must then examine what is the best, and in how many senses we use the word. The answer is principally contained in three views. For men say that the good per se is the best of all things, the good per se being that whose property is to be the original good and the cause by its presence in other things of their being good; both of which attributes belong to the Idea of good (I mean by both that of being the original good and also the cause of other things being good by its presence in them); for good is predicated of this Idea most truly (other things being good by participation in and likeness to this); and this is the original good, for the destruction of that which is participated in involves also the destruction of that which participates in the Idea, and is named from its participation in it. But this is the relation of the rst to the later, so that the Idea of good is the good per se; for this is also (they say) separable from what participates in it, like all other Ideas. The discussion, however, of this view belongs necessarily to another inquiry and a more abstract one, for arguments that are at once destructive and general belong to no other science. But if we must speak briey about these matters, we say rst that it is to speak abstractly and idly to assert that there is an Idea whether of good or of anything whateverthis has been considered in many ways both in our popular and in our philosophic discussions. Next, however much there are Ideas and in particular an Idea of good, they are perhaps useless with a view to a good life and to action. For the good has many senses, as numerous as those of being. For being, as we have divided it in other works, signies now what a thing is, now quality, now quantity, now time, and again some of it consists in being changed and in changing; and the good is found in each of these modes,

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in substance as mind and God, in quality as justice, in quantity as moderation, in time as opportunity, while as examples of it in change, we have that which teaches and that which is being taught. As then being is not one in all that we have just mentioned, so neither is good; nor is there one science either of being or of the good; not even things named good in the same category are the objects of a single science, e.g. opportunity or moderation; but one science studies one kind of opportunity or moderation, and another another: e.g. opportunity and moderation in regard to food are studied by medicine and gymnastics, in military matters by the art of strategy, and similarly with other sorts of action, so that it can hardly be the province of one science to study the good per se. Further, in things having an earlier and a later, there is no common element beyond, and, further, separable from, them, for then there would be something prior to the rst; for the common and separable element would be prior, because with its destruction the rst would be destroyed as well; e.g. if the double is the rst of the multiples, then the universal multiple cannot be separable, for it would be prior to the double5 . . . if the common element turns out to be the Idea, as it would be if one made the common element separable: for if justice is good, and so also is bravery, there is then, they say, a good per se, for which they add per se to the general denition; but what could this mean except that it is eternal and separable? But what is white for many days is no whiter than that which is white for a single day; so the good will not be more good by being eternal. Hence the common good is not identical with the Idea, for the common good belongs to all. But we should show the nature of the good per se in the opposite way to that now used. For now from what is not agreed to possess the good they demonstrate the things admitted to be good, e.g. from numbers they demonstrate that justice and health are goods, for they are arrangements and numbers, and it is assumed that goodness is a property of numbers and units because unity is the good itself. But they ought, from what are admitted to be goods, e.g. health, strength, and temperance, to demonstrate that beauty is present even more in the changeless; for all these things are order and rest; but if so, then the changeless is still more beautiful, for it has these attributes still more. And it is a bold way to demonstrate that unity is the good per se to say that numbers have desire; for no one says distinctly how they desire, but the saying is altogether too unqualied. And how can one suppose that there is desire where there is no life? One should consider seriously about this and not assume without reasons what it is not easy to believe even with reasons. And to say that all existing things desire some one good is not
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true; for each seeks its own special good, the eye vision, the body health, and so on. There are then these difculties in the way of there being a good per se; further, it would be useless to political philosophy, which, like all others, has its particular good, e.g. as gymnastic has good bodily condition. [Further, there is the argument written in the discoursethat the Idea itself of good is useful to no art or to all arts in the same way. Further, it is not practicable.]6 And similarly neither is good as a universal either the good per se (for it might belong even to a small good) or practicable; for medicine does not consider how to procure an attribute that may be an attribute of anything, but how to procure health; and so each of the other arts. But good is ambiguous, and there is in it a noble part, and part is practicable but the rest not so. The sort of good that is practicable is an object aimed at, but not the good in things unchanging. It is clear, then, that neither the Idea of good nor the good as universal is the good per se that we are actually seeking; for the one is unchanging and not practical, and the other though changing is still not practical. But the object aimed at as end is best, and the cause of all that comes under it, and rst of all goods. This then would be the good per se, the end of all human action. And this would be what comes under the master-art of all, which is politics, economics, and wisdom; for these mental habits differ from all others by their being of this nature; whether they differ from one another must be stated later. And that the end is the cause of all that comes under it, the method of teaching shows; for the teacher rst denes the end and thence shows of each of the other things that it is good; for the end aimed at is the cause. E.g. since to be in health is so and so, so and so must needs be what conduces to it; the health-giving is the efcient cause of health and yet7 only of its actual existence; it is not the cause of health being good. Further, no one demonstrates that health is good (unless he is a sophist and no doctor, but one who produces deceptive arguments from inappropriate considerations), any more than any other principle. We must now consider, making a fresh start, in how many senses the good as the end of man, the best in the eld of action, is the best of all, since this is best.

6 7

Excised by Susemihl. Reading kaitoi for kai tote.

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book II

11

Book II
1 After this let us start from a new beginning and speak about what follows from it. All goods are either outside or in the soul, and of these those in the soul are more desirable; this distinction we make even in our popular discussions. For wisdom, excellence, and pleasure are in the soul, and some or all of these seem to all to be the end. But of the contents of the soul some are states or faculties, others activities and movements. Let this then be assumed, and also that excellence is the best state or condition or faculty of all things that have a use and work. This is clear by induction; for in all cases we lay this down: e.g. a garment has an excellence, for it has a work and use, and the best state of the garment is its excellence. Similarly a vessel, house, or anything else has an excellence; therefore so also has the soul, for it has a work. And let us assume that the better state has the better work; and as the states are to one another, so let us assume the corresponding works to be to one another. And the work of anything is its end; it is clear, therefore, from this that the work is better than the state; for the end is best, as being end: for we assumed the best, the nal stage, to be the end for the sake of which all else exists. That the work, then, is better than the state or condition is plain. But work has two senses; for some things have a work beyond mere employment, as building has a house and not the act of building, medicine health and not the act of curing and restoring to health; while the work of other things is just their employment, e.g. of vision seeing and of mathematical science contemplation. Hence, necessarily, in those whose work is their employment the employment is more valuable than the state. Having made these distinctions, we say that the work of a thing is also the work of its excellence, only not in the same sense, e.g. a shoe is the work both of the art of cobbling and of the action of cobbling. If, then, the art of cobbling and the good cobbler have an excellence, their work is a good shoe: and similarly with everything else. Further, let the work of the soul be to produce living, this8 consisting in employment and being awakefor slumber is a sort of inactivity and rest. Therefore, since the work must be one and the same both for the soul and for its excellence,
8

1218b32-1218b37

1218b38-1219a13

1219a14-1219a18

1219a19-1219a23

1219a24-1219a39

Reading touto for tou.

12

Aristotle

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1219b8-1219b25

the work of the excellence of the soul would be a good life. This, then, is the complete good, which (as we saw) was happiness. And it is clear from our assumptions (for these were that happiness was the best of things, and ends and the best goods were in the soul; it is itself either a state or an activity . . .),9 and since the activity is better than the state, and the best activity than the best state, and excellence is the best state, that the activity of the excellence of the soul is the best thing. But happiness, we saw, was the best of things; therefore happiness is the activity of a good soul. But since happiness was something complete, and living is either complete or incomplete and so also excellenceone excellence being a whole, the other a partand the activity of what is incomplete is itself incomplete, therefore happiness would be the activity of a complete life in accordance with complete excellence. And that we have rightly stated its genus and denition common opinions prove. For to do well and to live well is held to be identical with being happy, but each of theseliving and doingis an employment, an activity; for the practical life is one of using or employing, e.g. the smith produces a bridle, the good horseman uses it. We nd conrmation also in the common opinion that we cannot ascribe happiness to an existence of a single day, or to a child, or to each of the ages of life; and therefore Solons advice holds good, never to call a man happy when living, but only when his life is ended. For nothing incomplete is happy, not being whole. Further, praise is given to excellence because of its actions, but to actions something higher than praise, the encomium. And we crown the actual winners, not those who have the power to win but do not actually win. Further, our judging the character of a man by his acts is a conrmation. Further, why is happiness not praised? Surely because other things are praised owing to this, either by their having reference to it or by their being parts of it. Therefore felicitation, praise, and encomium differ; for encomium is discourse relative to the particular act, praise declares the general nature of the man, but felicitation is for the end. This clears up the difculty sometimes raisedwhy for half their lives the good are no better than the bad, for all are alike when asleep; the cause is that sleep is an inactivity, not an activity of the soul. Therefore, even if there is some other part of the soul, e.g. the vegetative, its excellence is not a part of entire excellence, any more than the excellence of the body is; for in sleep the vegetative part is more active, while the perceptive and the appetitive are incomplete in sleep. But as far as they do to some extent partake of movement, even the visions of the good are
9

Susemihl marks a lacuna.

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book II

13

better than those of the bad, except so far as they are caused by disease or bodily defect. After this we must consider the soul. For excellence belongs to the soul and essentially so. But since we are looking for human excellence, let it be assumed that the parts of the soul partaking of reason are two, but that they partake not in the same way, but the one by its natural tendency to command, the other by its natural tendency to obey and listen; if there is a part without reason in some other sense, let it be disregarded. It makes no difference whether the soul is divisible or indivisible, so long as it has different faculties, namely those mentioned above, just as the curved includes the concave and the convex, or, again, the straight and the white, yet the straight is not white except incidentally and is not the same in substance.10 We also neglect any other part of the soul that there may be, e.g. the vegetative, for the above-mentioned parts are peculiar to the human soul; therefore the excellences of the nutritive part and that concerned with growth are not those of man. For, if we speak of him qua man, he must have the power of reasoning, a governing principle,11 action; but reason governs not reason, but desire and the passions; he must then have these parts. And just as general good condition of the body is compounded of the partial excellences, so also is the excellence of the soul, qua end. But of excellence there are two species, the moral12 and the intellectual. For we praise not only the just but also the intelligent and the wise. For we assumed that what is praiseworthy is either the excellence or its work, and these are not activities, but have activities. But since the intellectual excellences involve reason, they belong to that rational part of the soul which governs the soul by its possession of reason, while the moral belong to the part which is irrational but by its nature obedient to the part possessing reason; for we do not describe the character of a man by saying that he is wise or clever, but by saying that he is gentle or bold. After this we must rst consider moral excellence, its nature, its partsfor our inquiry has been forced back on thisand how it is produced. We must make our search as all do in other thingsthey search having something to start with; so here, by means of true but indistinct judgements, we should always try to attain to what is true and distinct. For we are now in the condition of one who describes health as the best condition of the body, or Coriscus as the darkest man in the
10 11

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1220a5-1220a13

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Reading ousia to auto. Retaining kai. 12 Moral translates ethikos: the word should be taken in the sense concerned with character.

14

Aristotle

market-place; for what either of these is we do not know, but yet for the attainment of knowledge of either it is worth while to be in this condition. First, then, let it be laid down that the best state is produced by the best means, and that with regard to everything the best is done from the excellence of that thing (e.g. the exercises and food are best which produce a good condition of body, and from such a condition men best perform exercises). Further, that every condition is produced and destroyed by some sort of application of the same things, e.g. health from food, exercises, and weather. This is clear from induction. Excellence too, then, is that sort of condition which is produced by the best movements in the soul, and from which are produced the souls best works and feelings; and by the same things, if they happen in one way, it is produced, but if they happen in another, it is destroyed. The employment of excellence is relative to the same things by which it is increased and destroyed, and it puts us in the best attitude towards them. A proof that both excellence and badness are concerned with the pleasant and the painful is that punishment being cure and operating through opposites, as the cure does in everything else, acts through these.
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2 That moral excellence, then, is concerned with the pleasant and the painful is clear. But since the character, being as its name indicates something that grows by habit13 and that which is under guidance other than innate is trained to a habit by frequent movement of a particular kindis the active principle present after this process, but in things inanimate we do not see this (for even if you throw a stone upwards ten thousand times, it will never go upward except by compulsion),consider, then, character to be this, viz. a quality in accordance with governing reason belonging to the irrational part of the soul which is yet able to obey the reason. Now we have to state in respect of what part of the soul we have character of this or that kind.14 It will be in respect of the faculties of passion, in virtue of which men are spoken of as subject to passion, and in respect of the habits, in virtue of which men are described, in reference to those passions, either as feeling them in some way or as not feeling them. After this comes the division made in . . .15 into the passions, faculties, and habits. By passions I mean such as anger, fear, shame, sensual desirein general, all that is usually followed of itself by sensuous pleasure or pain. Quality does not depend on thesethey are merely experiencedbut on the faculties. By faculty I mean that in virtue of which men who act from their passions are called after them, e.g. are called iras13 14

ethos (character) from ethos (habit). Reading poi atta for poiotes ta. 15 Text uncertain.

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book II

15

cible, insensible, amorous, bashful, shameless. And habits are the causes through which these faculties belong to us either in a reasonable way or the opposite, e.g. bravery, temperance, cowardice, intemperance. 3 After these distinctions we must notice that in everything continuous and divisible there is excess, deciency and the mean, and these in relation to one another or in relation to us, e.g. in the gymnastic or medical arts, in those of building and navigation, and in any sort of action, alike scientic and nonscientic, skilled and unskilled. For motion is continuous, and action is motion. In all cases the mean in relation to us is the best; for this is as knowledge and reason direct us. And this everywhere also makes the best habit. This is clear both by induction and by reasoning. For opposites destroy one another, and extremes are opposite both to one another and to the mean; for the mean is to either extreme the other extreme, e.g. the equal is greater to the less, but less to the greater. Therefore moral excellence must have to do with the mean and be a sort of mean. We must then notice what sort of mean excellence is and about what sort of means; let each be taken from the list by way of illustration, and studied: irascibility lack of feeling gentleness bravery modesty temperance
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foolhardiness cowardice shamelessness intemperance envy gain shyness

insensibility

(unnamed) righteous indignation loss the just

lavishness meanness liberality boastfulness self-depreciation habit of attery servility habit of dislike sincerity friendliness

stubbornness dignity endurance]16

[luxuriousness submission to evils

16

Excised by Susemihl.

16 vanity meanness of spirit greatness of spirit

Aristotle

extravagance pettiness [cunning

1221a14-1221b3

magnicence

simplicity

wisdom]17

These and similar are the passions that occur in the soul; they receive their names, some from being excesses, some from being defects. For the irascible is one who is angry more than he ought to be, and more quickly, and with more people than he ought; the unfeeling is decient in regard to persons, occasions, and manner. The man who fears neither what, nor when, nor as he ought is foolhardy; the man who fears what he ought not, and on the wrong occasions, and in the wrong manner is cowardly. . . . similarly, intemperate . . .18 one prone to sensual desire and exceeding in all possible ways, while he who is decient and does not feel desire even so far as is good for him and in accordance with nature, but is as much without feeling as a stone, is insensible. The man who makes prot from any source is greedy of gain; the man who makes it from none, or perhaps few, is a waster. The braggart is one who pretends to more than he possesses, the self-depreciator is one who pretends to less. The man who is more ready than is proper to join in praise is a atterer; the man who is less ready is grudging. To act in everything so as to give another pleasure is servility, but to give pleasure seldom and reluctantly is stubbornness. [Further, one who can endure no pain, even if it is good for him, is soft; one who can endure all pain alike has no name literally applicable to him, but by metaphor is called hard, patient, or ready of submission.]19 The vain man is he who thinks himself worthy of more than he is, while the poor-spirited thinks himself worthy of less. Further, the lavish is he who exceeds, the mean is he who is decient, in every sort of expenditure. Similar are the stingy and the purse-proud; the latter exceeds what is tting, the former falls short of it. [The rogue aims at gain in any way and from any source; the simple not even from the right source.]20 A man is envious when he feels pain at the sight of prosperity more often than he ought, for even those who deserve prosperity cause when prosperous pain to the envious; the opposite character has not so denite a name: he is one who shows excess in not grieving even at the prosperity of the undeserving, but accepts all, as gluttons accept all food, while his opposite is impatient through envy.
17 18

Excised by Susemihl. Susemihl marks lacunae. 19 Excised by Susemihl. 20 Excised by Susemihl.

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book II

17
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It is superuous to add to the denition that the particular relations to each thing should not be accidental; for no art, theoretical or productive, uses such additions to its denitions in speech or action; the addition is merely directed against logical quibbles against the arts. Take the above then, as simple denitions, which will be made more accurate when we speak of the opposite habits. But of these states themselves there are species with names differing according as the excess is in time, in degree, or in the object provoking the state: e.g. one is quick-tempered through feeling anger quicker than one ought, irascible and passionate through feeling it more, bitter through ones tendency to retain ones anger, violent and abusive through the punishments one inicts from anger . . .21 Epicures, gluttons, drunkards are so named from having a tendency contrary to reason to indulgence in one or the other kind of nutriment. Nor must we forget that some of the faults mentioned cannot be taken to depend on the manner of action, if manner means excess of passion: e.g. the adulterer is not so called from his excessive intercourse with married women; excess is inapplicable here, but the act is simply in itself wicked; the passion and its character are expressed in the same word. Similarly with assault. Hence men dispute the liability of their actions to be called by these names; they say that they had intercourse but did not commit adultery (for they acted ignorantly or by compulsion), or that they gave a blow but committed no assault; and so they defend themselves against all other similar charges. 4 Having got so far, we must next say that, since there are two parts of the soul, the excellences are divided correspondingly, those of the rational part being the intellectual, whose function is truth, whether about a things nature or genesis, while the others belong to the part irrational but appetitivefor not any and every part of the soul, supposing it to be divisible, is appetitive. Necessarily, then, the character must be bad or good by its pursuit or avoidance of certain pleasures and pains. This is clear from our classication of the passions, powers, and states; for the powers and states are powers and states of the passions, and the passions are distinguished by pain and pleasure. So that for these reasons and also because of our previous propositions it follows that all moral excellence has to do with pleasures and pains. For by whatever things a soul tends to become better or worse, it is with regard to and in relation to these things that it nds pleasure. But we say men are bad through pleasures and pains, either by the pursuit and avoidance of improper pleasures or pains or by their pursuit in an improper way. Therefore all
21

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Susemihl marks a lacuna.

18

Aristotle

readily dene the excellences as insensibility or immobility as regards pleasures and pains, and vices as constituted by the opposites of these.
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5 But since we have assumed that excellence is that sort of habit from which men have a tendency to do the best actions, and through which they are in the best disposition towards what is best; and best is what is in accordance with right reason, and this is the mean between excess and defect relative to us; it would follow that moral excellence is a mean relative to each individual himself, and is concerned with certain means in pleasures and pains, in the pleasant and the painful. The mean will sometimes be in pleasures (for there too is excess and defect), sometimes in pains, sometimes in both. For he who is excessive in his feeling of delight exceeds in the pleasant, but he who exceeds in his feeling of pain, in the painfuland this either absolutely or with reference to some standard, e.g. when he differs from the majority of men; but the good man feels as he ought. But since there is a habit in consequence of which its possessor will in some cases admit the excess, in others the defect of the same thing, it follows that as these acts are opposed to one another and to the mean, so the habits will also be opposed to one another and to excellence. It happens, however, that sometimes all these oppositions will be clearer, sometimes those on the side of excess, sometimes those on the side of defect. And the reason for the difference is that the unlikeness or likeness to the mean is not always of the same kind, but in one case one might change quicker from the excess to the middle habit, sometimes from the defect, and the person further distant seems more opposed; e.g. in regard to the body excess in exercise is healthier than defect, and nearer to the mean, but in food defect is healthier than excess. And so of those states of choice which tend to training now some, now others, will show a greater tendency to health in case of the two acts of choicenow those good at work, now those good at abstemiousness; and he who is opposed to the moderate and the reasonable will be the man who avoids exercise, not both; and in the case of food the self-indulgent man, not the man who starves himself. And the reason is that from the start our nature does not diverge in the same way from the mean as regards all things; we are less inclined to exercise, and more inclined to indulgence. So it is too with regard to the soul. We regard, then, as the habit opposed to the mean, that towards which both ourselves and men in general are more inclinedthe other extreme, as though not existent, escapes our notice, being unperceived because of its rarity. Thus we oppose anger to gentleness, and the irascible to the gentle. Yet there is also excess in the direction of gentleness and readiness to be reconciled, and the repression of anger when one is struck.

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book II

19

But the men prone to this are few, and all incline more to the opposite extreme; there is none of the spirit of reconciliation22 in anger. And since we have reached a list of the habits in regard to the several passions, with their excesses and defects, and the opposite habits in virtue of which men are as right reason directs them to be(what right reason is, and with an eye to what standard we are to x the mean, must be considered later)it is clear that all the moral excellences and vices have to do with excesses and defects of pleasures and pains, and that pleasures and pains arise from the above-mentioned habits and passions. But the best habit is that which is the mean in respect of each class of things. It is clear then that all, or at least some, of the excellences will be connected with means. 6 Let us, then, take another starting-point for the succeeding inquiry. Every substance is by nature a sort of principle; therefore each can produce many similar to itself, as man man, animals in general animals, and plants plants. But in addition to this man alone of animals is also the source of certain actions; for no other animal would be said to act. Such principles, which are primary sources of movements, are called principles in the strict sense, and most properly such as have necessary results; God is doubtless a principle of this kind. The strict sense of principle is not to be found among principles without movement, e.g. those of mathematics, though by analogy we use the name there also. For there, too, if the principle should change, practically all that is proved from it would alter; but its consequences do not change themselves, one being destroyed by another, except by destroying the assumption and, by its refutation, proving the truth. But man is the source of a kind of movement, for action is movement. But since, as elsewhere, the source or principle is the cause of all that exists or arises through it, we must take the same view as in demonstrations. For if, supposing the triangle to have its angles equal to two right angles, the quadrilateral must have them equal to four right angles, it is clear that the property of the triangle is the cause of this last. And if the triangle should change, then so must the quadrilateral, having six right angles if the triangle has three, and eight if it has four: but if the former does not change but remains as it was before, so must the quadrilateral. The necessity of what we are endeavouring to show is clear from the Analytics; at present we can neither afrm nor deny anything with precision except just this. Supposing there were no further cause for the triangles having the above property, then the triangle would be a sort of principle or cause of all that comes later.
22

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1222b15-1222b36

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Reading katallaktikon.

20

Aristotle

So that if anything existent may have the opposite to its actual qualities, so of necessity may its principles. For what results from the necessary is necessary; but the results of the contingent might be the opposite of what they are; what depends on men themselves forms a great portion of contingent matters, and men themselves are the sources of such contingent results. So that it is clear that all the acts of which man is the principle and controller may either happen or not happen, and that their happening or not happeningthose at least of whose existence or non-existence he has the controldepends on him. But of what it depends on him to do or not to do, he is himself the cause; and what he is the cause of depends on him. And since excellence and badness and the acts that spring from them are respectively praised or blamedfor we do not give praise or blame for what is due to necessity, or chance, or nature, but only for what we ourselves are causes of; for what another is the cause of, for that he bears the blame or praiseit is clear that excellence and badness have to do with matters where the man himself is the cause and source of his acts. We must then ascertain of what actions he is himself the source and cause. Now, we all admit that of acts that are voluntary and done from the choice of each man he is the cause, but of involuntary acts he is not himself the cause; and all that he does from choice he clearly does voluntarily. It is clear then that excellence and badness have to with with voluntary acts.
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7 We must then ascertain what is the voluntary and the involuntary, and what is choice, since by these excellence and badness are dened. First we must consider the voluntary and involuntary. Of three things it would seem to be one, agreement with either desire, or choice, or thoughtthat is, the voluntary would agree, the involuntary would be contrary to one of these. But again, desire is divided into three sorts, wish, anger, and sensual appetite. We have, then, to distinguish these, and rst to consider the case of agreement with sensual appetite. Now all that is in agreement with sensual appetite would seem to be voluntary; for all the involuntary seems to be forced, and what is forced is painful, and so is all that men do and suffer from compulsionas Evenus says, all to which we are compelled is unpleasant. So that if an act is painful it is forced on us, and if forced it is painful. But all that is contrary to sensual appetite is painfulfor such appetite is for the pleasantand therefore forced and involuntary; what then agrees with sensual appetite is voluntary; for these two are opposites. Further, all wickedness makes one more unjust, and incontinence seems to be wickedness, the incontinent being the sort of man that acts in accordance with his appetite and contrary to his reason, and shows his incontinence when he acts in accordance with his appetite; but to act unjustly is voluntary, so that the incontinent will act

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book II

21

unjustly by acting according to his appetite; he will then act voluntarily, and what is done according to appetite is voluntary. Indeed, it would be absurd that those who become incontinent should be more just. From these considerations, then, the act done from appetite would seem voluntary, but from the following the opposite: what a man does voluntarily he wishes, and what he wishes to do he does voluntarily. But no one wishes what he thinks to be bad; but surely the man who acts incontinently does not do what he wishes, for to act incontinently is to act through appetite contrary to what the man thinks best; whence it results that the same man acts at the same time both voluntarily and involuntarily; but this is impossible. Further, the continent will do a just act, and more so than incontinence; for continence is an excellence, and excellence makes men more just. Now one acts continently whenever he acts against his appetite in accordance with his reason. So that if to act justly is voluntary as to act unjustly isfor both these seem to be voluntary, and if the one is, so must the other bebut action contrary to appetite is involuntary, then the same man will at the same time do the same thing voluntarily and involuntarily. The same argument may be applied to anger; for there is thought to be a continence and incontinence of anger just as there is of appetite; and what is contrary to our anger is painful, and the repression is forced, so that if the forced is involuntary, all acts done out of anger would be voluntary. Heraclitus, too, seems to be regarding the strength of anger when he says that the restraint of it is painfulIt is hard, he says, to ght with anger; for it gives its life for what it desires. But if it is impossible for a man voluntarily and involuntarily to do the same thing23 at the same time in regard to24 the same part of the act, then what is done from wish is more voluntary than that which is done from appetite or anger; and a proof of this is that we do many things voluntarily without anger or desire. It remains then to consider whether to act from wish and to act voluntarily are identical. But this too seems impossible. For we assumed and all admit that wickedness makes men more unjust, and incontinence seems a kind of wickedness. But the opposite will result from the hypothesis above; for no one wishes what he thinks bad, but does it when he becomes incontinent. If, then, to commit injustice is voluntary, and the voluntary is what agrees with wish, then when a man becomes incontinent he will be no longer committing injustice, but will be more just than before he became incontinent. But this is impossible. That the voluntary then is not action in accordance with desire, nor the involuntary action
23 24

1223b4-1223b17

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Reading auto for auton. Reading hama kata.

22 in opposition to it, is clear.

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Aristotle

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1224a30-1225a2

8 But again, that action in accordance with, or in opposition to, choice is not the true description of the voluntary and involuntary is clear from the following considerations: it has been shown that the act in agreement with wish was not involuntary, but rather that all that one wishes is voluntary, though it has only been shown that one may do voluntarily what one does not wish. But we do many things from wish suddenly, but no one chooses an act suddenly. But if, as we saw, the voluntary must be one of these threeaction according either to desire, choice, or thought, and it is not two of these, the remaining alternative is that the voluntary consists in action with some kind of thought. Advancing a little further, let us close our delimitation of the voluntary and the involuntary. To act on compulsion or not on compulsion seems connected with these terms; for we say that the enforced is involuntary, and all the involuntary is enforced: so that rst we must consider the action done on compulsion, its nature and its relation to the voluntary and the involuntary. Now the enforced and the necessary, force and necessity, seem opposed to the voluntary and to persuasion in the case of acts done. Generally, we speak of enforced action and necessity even in the case of inanimate things; for we say that a stone moves upwards and re downwards on compulsion and by force; but when they move according to their natural internal tendency, we do not call the act one due to force; nor do we call it voluntary either; there is no name for this antithesis; but when they move contrary to this tendency, then we say they move by force. So, too, among things living and among animals we often see things suffering and acting from force, when something from without moves them contrary to their own internal tendency. Now in the inanimate the moving principle is simple, but in the animated there is more than one principle; for desire and reason do not always agree. And so with the other animals the action on compulsion is simple (just as in the inanimate), for they have not desire and reason opposing one another, but live by desire; but man has both, that is at a certain age, to which we attribute also the power of action; for we do not use this term of the child, nor of the brute, but only of the man who has come to act from reason. So the compulsory act seems always painful, and no one acts from force and yet with pleasure. Hence there arises much dispute about the continent and incontinent, for each of them acts with two tendencies mutually opposed, so that (as the expression goes) the continent forcibly drags himself from the pleasant appetites (for he feels pain in dragging himself away against the resistance of desire), while the incontinent forcibly drags himself contrary to his reason. But still the latter

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book II

23

seems less to be in pain; for appetite is for the pleasant, and this he follows with delight; so that the incontinent rather acts voluntarily and not from force, because he acts without pain. But persuasion is opposed to force and necessity, and the continent goes towards what he is persuaded of, and so proceeds not from force but voluntarily. But appetite leads without persuading, being devoid of reason. We have, then, shown that these alone seem to act from force and involuntarily, and why they seem to, viz. from a certain likeness to the enforced action, in virtue of which we attribute enforced action also to the inanimate. Yet if we add the addition made in our denition, there also the statement becomes untrue. For it is only when something external moves a thing, or brings it to rest against its own internal tendency, that we say this happens by force; otherwise we do not say that it happens by force. But in the continent and the incontinent it is the present internal tendency that leads them, for they have both tendencies. So that neither acts on compulsion nor by force, but, as far at least as the above goes, voluntarily. For the external moving principle, that hinders or moves in opposition to the internal tendency, is what we call necessity, e.g. when we strike someone with the hand of one whose wish and appetite alike resist; but when the principle is from within, there is no force. Further, there is both pleasure and pain in both; for the continent feels pain now in acting against his appetite, but has the pleasure of hope, i.e. that he will be presently beneted, or even the pleasure of being actually at present beneted because he is in health; while the incontinent is pleased at getting through his incontinency what he desires, but has a pain of expectation, thinking that he is doing ill. So that to say that both act from compulsion is not without reason, the one sometimes acting involuntarily owing to his desire, the other owing to his reason; these two, being separated, are thrust out by one another. Whence men apply the language to the soul as a whole, because we see something like the above in the elements of the soul. Now of the parts of the soul this may be said; but the soul as a whole, whether in the continent or the incontinent, acts voluntarily, and neither acts on compulsion, but one of the elements in them does, since by nature we have both. For reason is in them by nature, because if growth is permitted and not maimed, it will be there; and appetite, because it accompanies and is present in us from birth. But these are practically the two marks by which we dene the naturalit is either that which is found with us as soon as we are born, or that which comes to us if growth is allowed to proceed regularly, e.g. grey hair, old age, and so on. So that either acts contrary to nature, and yet, broadly speaking, according to nature, but not the same nature. The puzzles then about the continent and incontinent are thesedo both, or one of them, act on compulsion, so that they act involuntarily or else at the same time both on compulsion and voluntar-

24

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ily; that is, if the compulsory is involuntary, both voluntarily and involuntarily? And it is tolerably clear from the above how these puzzles are to be met.
1225a3-1225a32

In another way, too, men are said to act by force and compulsion without any disagreement between reason and desire in them, viz. when they do what they consider both painful and bad, but they are threatened with whipping, imprisonment, or death, if they do not do it. Such acts they say they did on compulsion. Or shall we deny this, and say that all do the act itself voluntarily? For they had the power to abstain from doing it, and to submit to the suffering. Again perhaps one might say that some such acts were voluntary and some not. For of the acts that a man does without wishing them some he has the power to do or abstain from doing; these he always does voluntarily and not by force; but those in which he has not this power, he does by force in a sense (but not absolutely), because he does not choose the very thing he does, but the purpose for which it is done, since there is a difference, too, in this. For if a man were to murder another so as not to be caught at blind mans buff he would be laughed at if he were to say that he acted by force, and on compulsion; there ought to be some greater and more painful evil that he would suffer if he did not commit the murder. For then he will act on compulsion and by force, or at least not by nature, when he does something evil for the sake of good, or release from a greater evil; then he will at least act involuntarily, for such acts are not subject to his control. Hence, many regard love, anger in some cases, and natural conditions as involuntary, as being too strong for nature; we pardon them as things capable of overpowering nature. A man would more seem to act from force and involuntarily if he acted to escape violent than if to escape gentle pain, and generally if to escape pain than if to get pleasure. For that which depends on himand all turns on thisis what his nature is able to bear; what it is not, what is not under the control of his natural desire or reason, that does not depend on him. Therefore those who are inspired and prophesy, though their act is one of thought, we still say have it not in their own power either to say what they said, or to do what they did. And so of acts done through appetite. So that some thoughts and passions do not depend on us, nor the acts25 following such thoughts and reasonings, but, as Philolaus said, some arguments are too strong for us. So that if the voluntary and involuntary had to be considered in reference to the presence of force as well as from other points of view, let this be our nal distinction. Nothing obscures the idea of the voluntary so much . . . as though
25

1225a33-1225a36

Reading kai ai praxeis for e praxeis.

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book II they act from force and yet voluntarily.26

25

9 Since we have nished this subject, and we have found the voluntary not to be dened either by desire or by choice, it remains to dene it as that which depends on thought. The voluntary, then, seems opposed to the involuntary, and to act with knowledge of the person acted on, instrument and aimfor sometimes one knows the object, e.g. as father, but not that the aim of the act is to kill, not to save, as in the case of Peliass daughters; or knows the object to be a drink but takes it to be a philtre or wine when it was really hemlockseems opposed to action in ignorance of the person, instrument, or thing, if, that is, the action is essentially the effect of ignorance. All that is done owing to ignorance, whether of person, instrument, or thing, is involuntary; the opposite therefore is voluntary. All, then, that a man doesit being in his power to abstain from doing itnot in ignorance and owing to himself must needs be voluntary; this is what voluntariness is. But all that he does in ignorance and owing to his ignorance, he does involuntarily. But since science or knowledge is of two sorts, one the possession, the other the use of knowledge, the man who has but does not use knowledge may in a sense be justly called ignorant, but in another sense not justly, e.g. if he had not used his knowledge owing to carelessness. Similarly, one might be blamed for not having the knowledge, if it were something easy or necessary and he does not have it because of carelessness or pleasure or pain. This, then, we must add to our denition. Such, then, is the completion of our distinction of the voluntary and the involuntary. 10 Let us next speak about choice, rst raising various difculties about it. For one might doubt to what genus it belongs and in which to place it, and whether the voluntary and the chosen are or are not the same. Now some insist that choice is either opinion or desire, and the inquirer might well think that it is one or the other, for both are found accompanying it. Now that it is not desire is plain; for then it would be either wish, appetite, or anger, for none desires without having experienced one of these feelings. But anger and appetite belong also to the brutes while choice does not; further, even those who are capable of both the former often choose without either anger or appetite; and when they are under the inuence of those passions they do not choose but remain unmoved by them. Further, anger and appetite always involve pain, but we often choose without pain. But neither are wish and choice the same; for we often wish for what we know is impossible,
26

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1225b17-1225b18

1225b19-1226a17

The text is uncertain.

26

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1226a18-1226b9

e.g. to rule all mankind or to be immortal, but no one chooses such things unless ignorant of the impossibility, nor does he even choose what is possible, generally, if he does not think it in his power to do or to abstain from doing it. So that this is clear, that the object of choice must be one of the things in our own power. Similarly, choice is not an opinion nor, generally, what one thinks; for the object of choice was something in ones power and many things may be thought that are not in our power, e.g. that the diagonal is commensurable. Further, choice is not either true or false. Nor yet is choice identical with our opinion about matters of practice which are in our own power, as when we think that we ought to do or not to do something. This argument applies to wish as well as to opinion; for no one chooses an end, but things that contribute to an end, e.g. no one chooses to be in health, but to walk or to sit for the purpose of keeping well; no one chooses to be happy but to make money or run risks for the purpose of being happy. And in general, in choosing we show both what we choose and for what we choose it, the latter being that for which we choose something else, the former that which we choose for something else. But it is the end that we specially wish for, and we think we ought to be healthy and happy. So that it is clear through this that choice is different both from opinion and from wish; for wish and opinion pertain especially to the end, but choice does not. It is clear, then, that choice is not wish, or opinion, or judgement simply. But in what does it differ from these? How is it related to the voluntary? The answer to these questions will also make it clear what choice is. Of possible things, then, there are some such that we can deliberate about them, while about others we cannot. For some things are possible, but the production of them is not in our power, some being due to nature, others to other causes; and about these none would attempt to deliberate except in ignorance. But about others, not only existence and nonexistence is possible, but also human deliberation;27 these are things the doing or not doing of which is in our own power. Therefore, we do not deliberate about the affairs of the Indians nor how the circle may be squared; for the rst are not in our power, the second is wholly beyond the power of action; but we do not even deliberate about all things that may be done and that are in our power (by which it is clear that choice is not opinion simply), though the matters of choice and action belong to the class of things in our own power. One might then raise the problemwhy do doctors deliberate about matters within their science, but not grammarians? The reason is that error may occur in two ways (either in reasoning or in perception when we are engaged in the very act),
27

Ignoring Susemihls indication of a lacuna.

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book II

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and in medicine one may go wrong in both ways, but in grammar one can do so only in respect of the perception and action, and if they inquired about this there would be no end to their inquiries. Since then choice is28 neither opinion nor wish singly nor yet both (for no one chooses suddenly, though he thinks he ought to act, and wishes, suddenly), it must be compounded of both, for both are found in a man choosing. But we must askhow compounded out of these? The very name is some indication. For choice is not simply picking but picking one thing before another; and this is impossible without consideration and deliberation; therefore choice arises out of deliberate opinion. Now about the end no one deliberates (this being xed for all), but about that which tends to itwhether this or that tends to it, andsupposing this or that resolved onhow it is to be brought about. All consider this till they have brought the beginning of the process to a point in their own power. If then, no one chooses without some preparation, without some deliberation whether it is better or worse to do so and so, and if, of the things which contribute to an end, and which may or may not come about, we deliberate about those which are in our power, then it is clear that choice is a deliberate desire for something in ones own power; for we all deliberate about what we choose, but we do not choose all that we deliberate about. I call it deliberate when deliberation is the source and cause of the desire, and the man desires because of the deliberation. Therefore in the other animals choice does not exist, nor in man at every age or in every condition; for there is not deliberation or judgement on the ground of an act; but it is quite possible that many animals have an opinion whether a thing is to be done or not; only thinking with deliberation is impossible to them. For the deliberating part of the soul is that which observes a cause of some sort; and the object of an action is one of the causes; for we call cause that owing to which a thing comes about; but the purpose of a things existence or production is what we specially call its cause, e.g. of walking, the fetching of things, if this is the purpose for which one walks. Therefore, those who have no aim xed have no inclination to deliberate. So that since, if a man of himself and not through ignorance does or abstains from that which is in his power to do or abstain from, he acts or abstains voluntarily, but we do many such things without deliberation or premeditation, it follows that all that has been chosen is voluntary, but not all the voluntary is chosen, and that all that is according to choice is voluntary, but not all that is voluntary is according to choice.29 And at the same time it is clear from this
28 29

1226b10-1227a5

Omitting esti. Reading hekousia (Susemihls akousia is a misprint).

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Aristotle

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that those legislators dene well who enact that some states of feeling are to be considered voluntary, some involuntary, and some premeditated; for if they are not thoroughly accurate, at least they approximate to the truth. But about this we will speak in our investigation of justice; meanwhile, it is clear that choice is not simply wish or simply opinion, but opinion and desire together when following as a conclusion from deliberation. But since in deliberating one always deliberates for the sake of some end, and he who deliberates has always an aim by reference to which he judges what is expedient, no one deliberates about the end; this is the starting-point and assumption, like the assumptions in theoretical science (we have spoken about this briey in the beginning of this work and minutely in the Analytics). Everyones inquiry, whether made with or without art, is about what tends to the end, e.g. whether they shall go to war or not, when this is what they are deliberating about. But the cause or object will come rst, e.g. wealth, pleasure, or anything else of the sort that happens to be our object. For the man deliberating deliberates if he has considered, from the point of view of the end, what30 conduces to bringing the end within his own action, or what he at present can do towards the object. But the object or end is always something good by nature, and men deliberate about its partial constituents, e.g. the doctor whether he is to give a drug, or the general where he is to pitch his camp. To them the absolutely best end is good. But contrary to nature and by perversion31 not the good but the apparent good is the end. And the reason is that some things cannot be used for anything but what their nature determines, e.g. sight; for one can see nothing but what is visible, nor hear anything but what is audible. But science enables us to do what does not belong to that science; for the same science is not similarly related to health and disease, but naturally to the former, contrary to nature to the latter. And similarly wish is of the good naturally, but of the bad contrary to nature, and by nature one wishes the good, but contrary to nature and through perversion32 the bad as well. But further, the corruption and perversion of a thing does not tend to anything at random but to the contrary or the intermediate between it and the contrary. For out of this province one cannot go, since error leads not to anything at random but to the contrary of truth where there is a contrary, and to that contrary which is according to the appropriate science contrary. Therefore, the error and the resulting choice must deviate from the mean towards the oppositeand the opposite of
30 31

Omitting Susemihls e. Reading dia strophen. 32 Reading dia strophen.

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book II

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the mean is excess or defect. And the cause is pleasantness or painfulness; for we are so constituted that the pleasant appears good to the soul and the more pleasant better, while the painful appears bad and the more painful worse. So that from this also it is clear that excellence and badness have to do with pleasures and pains; for they have to do with objects of choice, and choice has to do with the good and bad or what seems such, and pleasure and pain naturally seem such. It follows then, since moral excellence is itself a mean and wholly concerned with pleasures and pains, and badness lies in excess or defect and is concerned with the same matters as excellence, that moral excellence is a habit tending to choose the mean in relation to us in things pleasant and painful, in regard to which, according as one is pleased or pained, men are said to have a denite sort of character; for one is not said to have a special sort of character merely for liking what is sweet or what is bitter. 11 These distinctions having been made, let us say whether excellence makes the choice correct and the end right so that a man chooses for the right end, or whether (as some say) it makes the reason so. But what does this is continence, for this preserves the reason. But excellence and continence differ. We must speak later about them, since those who think that excellence makes the reason right, do so for this causenamely, that continence is of this nature and continence is one of the things we praise. Now that we have discussed preliminary questions let us state our view.33 It is possible for the aim to be right, but for a man to go wrong in what contributes to that aim; and again the aim may be mistaken, while the things leading to it are right; or both may be mistaken. Does then excellence make the aim, or the things that contribute to that aim? We say the aim, because this is not attained by inference or reasoning. Let us assume this as starting-point. For the doctor does not ask whether one ought to be in health or not, but whether one ought to walk or not; nor does the trainer ask whether one ought to be in good condition or not, but whether one should wrestle or not. And similarly no art asks questions about the end; for as in theoretical sciences the assumptions are our starting-points, so in the productive the end is starting-point and assumed. E.g. we reason that since this body is to be made healthy, therefore so and so must be found in it if health is to be hadjust as in geometry we argue, if the angles of the triangle are equal to two right angles, then so and so must be the case. The end aimed at is, then, the starting-point of our thought, the end of our thought the starting-point of action. If, then, of all correctness either reason or excellence is
33

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1227b13-1228a21

Reading legomen.

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the cause, if reason is not the cause, then the end (but not the things contributing to it) must owe its rightness to excellence. But the end is the object of the action; for all choice is of something and for the sake of some object. The object, then, is the mean, and excellence is the cause of this by choosing the object. Still choice is not of this but of the things done for the sake of this. To hit on these thingsI mean what ought to be done for the sake of the objectbelongs to another faculty; but of the rightness of the end of the choice the cause is excellence. And therefore it is from a mans choice that we judge his characterthat is from the object for the sake of which he acts, not from the act itself. Similarly, badness brings it about that we choose the opposite object. If, then, a man, having it in his power to do the honourable and abstain from the base, does the opposite, it is clear that this man is not good. Hence, it follows that both excellence and badness are voluntary; for there is no necessity to do what is wicked. Therefore badness is blamable and excellence praiseworthy. For the involuntary if base or bad is not blamable, if good is not praiseworthy, but only the voluntary. Further, we praise and blame all men with regard to their choice rather than their acts (though activity is more desirable than excellence), because men may do bad acts under compulsion, but no one chooses them under compulsion. Further, it is only because it is not easy to see the nature of a mans choice that we are forced to judge of his character by his acts. The activity then is more desirable, but the choice is more praiseworthy. And this both follows from our assumptions and is in agreement with the phenomena.

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book III

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Book III
1 That there are mean states, then, in the excellences, and that these are states of choice, and that the opposite states are vices and what these are, has been stated in its universal form. But let us take them individually and speak of them in order; and rst let us speak of bravery. All are practically agreed that the brave man is concerned with fears and that bravery is one of the excellences. We distinguished also in the table foolhardiness and fear as contraries; in a sense they are, indeed, opposed to one another. Clearly, then, those named after these habits will be similarly opposed to one another, i.e. the coward, for he is so called from fearing more than he ought and being less condent than he ought, and the foolhardy man, who is so called for fearing less than he ought and being more condent that he ought. (Hence they have names cognate to those of the qualities, e.g. foolhardy is cognate to foolhardiness.) So that since bravery is the best habit in regard to fear and condence, and one should be neither like the foolhardy (who are defective in one way, excessive in another) nor like the cowards (of whom the same may be said, only not about the same objects, but inversely, for they are defective in condence and excessive in fear), it is clear that the middle habit between foolhardiness and cowardice is bravery, for this is the best. The brave man seems to be in general fearless, the coward prone to fear; the latter fears many things and few, great things and small, and intensely and quickly, while his opposite fears either not at all or slightly and reluctantly and seldom, and great things only. The brave man endures even what is very frightening, the coward not even what is slightly frightening. What, then, does the brave man endure? First, is it the things that appear frightening to himself or to another? If the latter, his bravery would be no considerable matter. But if it is the things that he himself fears, then he must nd many things frighteningfrightening things34 being things that cause fear to those who nd them frightening, great fear if very frightening, slight fear if slightly frightening. Then it follows that the brave man feels much and serious fear; but on the contrary bravery seemed to make a man fearless, fearlessness consisting in fearing few things if any, and in fearing slightly and with reluctance. But perhaps we use frighteninglike pleasant and goodin two senses. Some things are pleasant or good absolutely, others to a particular person
34

1228a22-1228b3

1228b4-1228b38

Omitting megala kai, and reading phobera. [ta de phobera] phobon.

32

Aristotle

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pleasant or goodbut absolutely bad and not pleasant, e.g. what is useful to the wicked or pleasant to children as such; and similarly the frightening is either absolutely such or such to a particular person. What, then, a coward as such fears is not frightening to anyone or but slightly so; but what is frightening to the majority of men or to human nature, that we call absolutely frightening. But the brave man shows himself fearless towards these and endures such things, they being to him frightening in one sense but in another notfrightening to him qua man, but not frightening to him except slightly so, or not at all, qua brave. These things, however, are frightening, for they are so to the majority of men. This is the reason, by the way, why the habit of the brave man is praised; his condition is analogous to that of the strong or healthy. For these are what they are, not because, in the case of the one, no toil, or in the case of the other, no extreme, crushes them, but because they are either unaffected absolutely or affected only to a slight extent by the things that affect the many or the majority. The sick, then, and the weak and the cowardly are affected by the common affections, as well as by others, only more quickly and to a greater extent than the many, . . .35 and further, by the things that affect the many they are wholly unaffected or but slightly affected. But it is still questioned whether anything is frightening to the brave man, whether he would not be incapable of fear. May we not allow him to be capable of it in the way above mentioned? For bravery consists in following reason, and reason bids one choose the noble. Therefore the man who endures the frightening from any other cause than this is either out of his wits or foolhardy; but the man who does so for the sake of the noble is alone fearless and brave. The coward, then, fears even what he ought not, the foolhardy is condent even when he ought not to be; the brave man both fears and is condent when he ought to be and is in this sense a mean, for he is condent or fears as reason bids him. But reason does not bid a man to endure what is very painful or destructive unless it is noble; now the foolhardy man is condent about such things even if reason does not bid him be so, while the coward is not condent even if it does; the brave man alone is condent about them only if reason bids him. There are ve kinds of courage, so named for a certain analogy between them; for they all endure the same things but not for the same reasons. One is a civic courage, due to the sense of shame; another is military, due to experience and knowledge, not (as Socrates said36 ) of what is fearful, but of the resources they have to meet what is fearful. The third kind is due to inexperience and ignorance;
35 36

Susemihl marks a lacuna. See Plato, Protagoras 360D.

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book III

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it is that which makes children and madmen face objects moving towards them and take hold of snakes. Another kind is due to hope, which makes those who have often been fortunate, or those who are drunk, face dangersfor wine makes them sanguine. Another kind is due to irrational feeling, e.g. love or anger; for a man in love is rather foolhardy than timid, and faces many dangers, like him who slew the tyrant in Metapontum or the man of whom stories are told in Crete. Similar is the action of anger or passion, for passion is beside itself. Hence wild boars are thought to be brave though they are not really so, for they behave as such when beside themselves, but at other times are unpredictable like foolhardy men. But still the bravery of passion is above all natural (passion is invincible, and therefore children are excellent ghters); civic courage is the effect of law. But in truth none of these forms is courage, though all are useful for encouragement in danger. So far we have spoken of the frightening generally; now it is best to distinguish further. In general, then, whatever is productive of fear is called frightening, and this is all that causes destructive pain. For those who expect some other pain may perhaps have another pain and other emotions but not fear, e.g. if a man foresees that he will suffer the pain of envy or of jealousy or of shame. But fear only occurs in connexion with the expectation of pains whose nature is to be destructive to life. Therefore men who are very effeminate as to some things are brave, and some who are hard and enduring are cowards. Indeed, it is thought practically the special mark of bravery to take up a certain attitude towards death and the pain of it. For if a man were so constituted as to be patient as reason requires towards heat and cold and similar not dangerous pains, but weak and timid about death, not for any other feeling, but just because it means destruction, while another was soft in regard to these but unaffected in regard to death, the former would seem cowardly, the latter brave; for we speak of danger also only in regard to such objects of fear as bring near to us that which will cause such destruction; when this seems close, then we speak of danger. The objects of fear, then, in regard to which we call a man brave are, as we have said, those which appear capable of causing destructive pain, but only when they appear near and not far off, and are of such magnitude, real or apparent, as is not out of proportion to man, for some things must appear frightening and must perturb any man. For just as things hot and cold and certain other powers are too strong for us and the conditions of the human body, so it may be with regard to the emotions of the soul. The cowardly, then, and the foolhardy are misled by their habits; for to the coward what is not frightening seems frightening, and what is slightly frightening

1229a33-1229b12

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greatly so, while in the opposite way, to the foolhardy man the frightening seems safe and the very frightening but slightly so; but the brave man thinks things what they truly are. Therefore, if a man faces the frightening through ignorance (e.g. if a man faces in the transport of madness the attack of a thunderbolt), he is not brave nor yet if, knowing the magnitude of the danger, he faces it through passionas the Celts take up their arms to go to meet the waves; in general, all the bravery of foreigners involves passion. But some face danger also for other pleasures for passion is not without a certain pleasure, involving as it does the hope of vengeance. But still, whether a man faces death for this or some other pleasure or to ee from greater evils, he would not justly be called brave. For if dying were pleasant, the proigate would have often died because of his incontinence, just as nowsince what causes death is pleasant though not death itselfmany knowingly incur death through their incontinence, but none of them would be thought brave even if they do it with perfect readiness to die. Nor is a man brave if he seeks death to avoid trouble, as many do; to use Agathons words: Bad men too weak for toil are in love with death, And so the poets narrate that Chiron, because of the pain of his wound, prayed for death and release from his immortality. Similarly, all who face dangers owing to experience are not really brave; this is what, perhaps, most soldiers do. For the truth is the exact opposite of what Socrates thought; he held that bravery was knowledge. But those who know how to ascend masts are condent not because they know what is frightening but because they know how to help themselves in dangers. Nor is all that makes men ght more boldly courage; for then, as Theognis puts it, strength and wealth would be braveryevery man (he says) is daunted by poverty. Obviously some, though cowards, face dangers because of their experience, because they do not think them dangers, as they know how to help themselves; and a proof of this is that, when they think they can get no help and the danger is close at hand, they no longer face it. But of all brave men of this sort, it is those who face danger because of shame who would most seem to be brave, as Homer says Hector faced the danger from Achillesand shame seized Hector; and, again, Polydamas will be the rst to taunt me.37 Such bravery is civic. But the true bravery is neither this nor any of the others, but like them, as is also the bravery of brutes which from passion run to meet the blow. For a man ought to hold his ground though frightened, not because he will incur disrepute, nor through anger, nor because he does not expect to be killed or has powers by which to protect himself; for in that case he will not even think that there is anything to be feared. But since all excellence implies choice
37

Iliad XXII 100.

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we have said before what this means and that it makes a man choose everything for the sake of some end, and that the end is the noble-it is clear that bravery, because it is an excellence, will make a man face what is frightening for some end, so that he does it neither through ignorancefor his excellence rather makes him judge correctlynor for pleasure, but because the act is noble; since, if it is not noble but frantic, he does not face the danger, for that would be disgraceful. In regard, then, to what things bravery is a mean state, between what, and why, and the meaning of the frightening, we have now spoken tolerably adequately for our present purpose. 2 After this we must try to draw certain distinctions regarding proigacy and temperance. Proigate has many senses. A man is proigate when he has not been corrected or cured (just as what has not been cut is uncut), and of such men, some are capable, others incapable of correction; just as the uncut includes both what cannot be cut and what can be but has not been cut; and so with profligate. For it is both that which by its nature refuses correction, and that which is of a nature to accept but has not yet received correction for the faults in regard to which the temperate man acts rightlye.g. children. For we give them the same name as the proigate, but because of this latter kind of proigacy. And, further, it is in different senses that we give the name to those hard to cure and to those whom it is quite impossible to cure through correction. Proigacy, then, having many senses, it is clear that it has to do with certain pleasures and pains, and that the forms differ from one another and from other states by the kind of attitude towards these; we have already stated how, in the use of the word proigacy, we apply it to various states by analogy. As to those who from insensibility are unmoved by these same pleasures, some call them insensible, while others describe them as such by other names; but this state is not very familiar or common because all rather err in the opposite direction, and it is congenital to all to be overcome by and to be sensible to such pleasures. It is the state chiey of such as the rustics introduced on the stage by comic writers, who keep aloof from even moderate and necessary pleasures. But since temperance has to do with pleasures, it must also have to do with certain appetites; we must, then, ascertain which. For the temperate man does not exhibit his temperance in regard to all appetites and all pleasures, but about the objects, as it seems, of two senses, taste and touch, or rather really about those of touch alone. For his temperance is shown not in regard to visual pleasure in the beautiful (so long as it is unaccompanied by sexual appetite) or visual pain at the ugly; nor, again, in regard to the pleasure or pain of the ear at harmony or dis1230a37-1230b20

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cord; nor, again, in regard to olfactory pleasure or pain at pleasant or disagreeable odours. Nor is a man called proigate for feeling or want of feeling in regard to such matters. For instance, if one sees a beautiful statue, or horse, or human being, or hears singing, without any accompanying wish for eating, drinking, or sexual indulgence, but only with the wish to see the beautiful and to hear the singers, he would not be thought proigate any more than those who were charmed by the Sirens. Temperance and proigacy have to do with those two senses whose objects are alone felt by and give pleasure and pain to brutes as well; and these are the senses of taste and touch, the brutes seeming insensible to the pleasures of practically all the other senses alike, e.g. harmony or beauty; for they obviously have no feeling worth mentioning at the mere sight of the beautiful or the hearing of the harmonious, except, perhaps, in some marvellous instances. And with regard to pleasant and disagreeable odours it is the same, though all their senses are sharper than ours. They do, indeed, feel pleasure at certain odours; but these gladden them accidentally and not of their own nature. By those enjoyed not of their own nature I mean those that give us pleasure owing to expectation and memory, e.g. the pleasure from the scent of foods and drinks; for these we enjoy because of a different pleasure, that of eating or drinking; the odours enjoyed for their own nature are such as those of owers (therefore Stratonicus neatly remarked that these smell beautifully, food, etc., pleasantly). Indeed, the brutes are not excited over every pleasure connected with taste, e.g. not over those which are felt in the tip of the tongue, but only over those that are felt in the gullet, the sensation being one of touch rather than of taste. Therefore gluttons pray not for a long tongue but for the gullet of a crane, as did Philoxenus, the son of Eryxis. Therefore, broadly, we should regard proigacy as concerned with objects of touch. Similarly it is with such pleasures that the proigate man is concerned. For drunkenness, gluttony, lecherousness, gormandizing, and all such things are concerned with the abovementioned senses; and these are the parts into which we divide proigacy. But in regard to the pleasures of sight, hearing, and smell, no one is called proigate if he is in excess, but we blame without considering disgraceful such faults, and all in regard to which we do not speak of men as continent; the incontinent are neither proigate nor temperate. The man, then, so constituted as to be decient in the pleasures in which all must in general partake and rejoice is insensible (or whatever else we ought to call him); the man in excess is proigate. For all naturally take delight in these objects and conceive appetites for them, and neither are nor are called proigate; for they neither exceed by rejoicing more than is right when they get them, nor by feeling greater pain than they ought when they miss them; nor are they insensible,

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for they are not decient in the feeling of joy or pain, but rather in excess. But since there is excess and defect in regard to these things, there is clearly also a mean, and this state is the best and opposed to both of the others; so that if the best state about the objects with which the proigate is concerned is temperance, temperance would be the mean state in regard to the above-mentioned sensible pleasures, the mean between proigacy and insensibility, the excess being proigacy and the defect either nameless or expressed by the names we have suggested. More accurate distinctions about the class of pleasures will be drawn in what is said later about continence and incontinence. 3 In the same way we must ascertain what is gentleness and irascibility. For we see that the gentle is concerned with the pain that arises from anger, being characterized by a certain attitude towards this. We have given in our list as opposed to the passionate, irascible, and savageall such being names for the same statethe slavish and the stupid. For these are pretty much the names we apply to those who are not moved to anger even when they ought, but take insults easily and are tolerant of contemptfor slowness to anger is opposed to quickness, violence to quietness, long persistence in that feeling of pain which we call anger to short. And since there is here, as we have said there is elsewhere, excess and defect for the irascible is one that feels anger more quickly, to a greater degree, and for a longer time, and when he ought not, and at what he ought not, and frequently, while the slavish is the oppositeit is clear that there is a mean to this inequality. Since, then, both the above-mentioned habits are wrong, it is clear that the mean state between them is good; for he is neither too soon nor too late, and does not feel anger when he ought not, nor feel no anger when he ought. So that since in regard to these emotions the best condition is gentleness, gentleness would be a mean state, and the gentle a mean between the irascible and the slavish. 4 Also magnanimity, magnicence, and liberality are mean statesliberality being shown in the acquisition or expenditure of wealth. For the man who is more pleased than he ought to be with every acquisition and more pained than he ought to be at every expenditure is illiberal; he who feels less of both than he ought is lavish; he who feels both as he ought is liberal. (By as he ought, both in this and in the other cases, I mean as right reason directs.) But since the two former show their nature respectively by excess and defectand where there are extremes, there is also a mean and that is best, a single best for each kind of actionliberality must be the mean between lavishness and meanness in regard to the acquisition and expenditure of wealth. I take wealth and the art of wealth

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in two senses; the art in one sense being the proper use of ones property (say of a shoe or a coat), in the other an accidental mode of using itnot the use of a shoe for a weight, but, say, the selling of it or letting it out for money; for here too the shoe is used. Now the lover of money is a man eager for actual money, which is a sign of possession taking the place of the accidental use of other possessions. But the illiberal man may even be lavish in the accidental pursuit of wealth, for it is in the natural pursuit of it that he aims at increase. The lavish runs short of necessaries; but the liberal man gives his superuities. There are also species of these genera which exceed or fall short as regards parts of the subject-matter of liberality, e.g. the sparing, the skinint, the grasper at disgraceful gain, are all illiberal; the sparing is characterized by his refusal to spend, the grasper at disgraceful gain by his readiness to accept anything, the skinint by his strong feeling over small amounts, while the man who has the sort of injustice that involves meanness is a false reckoner and cheat. And similarly one class of spendthrift is a waster by his disorderly expenditure, the other a fool who cannot bear the pain of calculation.
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5 As to magnanimity we must dene its specic nature from the qualities that we ascribe to the magnanimous. For just as with other things, in virtue of their nearness and likeness up to a certain point, their divergence beyond that point escapes notice, so it is with magnanimity. Therefore, sometimes men really opposite lay claim to the same character, e.g. the lavish to that of the liberal, the self-willed to that of the dignied, the foolhardy to that of the brave. For they are concerned with the same things, and are up to a certain point contiguous; thus the brave man and the foolhardy man are alike ready to face dangerbut the former in one way, the latter in another; and these ways differ greatly. Now, we assert that the magnanimous man, as is indicated by the name we apply to him, is characterized by a certain greatness of soul and faculty; and so he seems like the dignied and the magnicent man, since38 magnanimity seems to accompany all the excellences. For to distinguish correctly great goods from small is laudable. Now, those goods are thought great which are pursued by the man of the best habit in regard to what seem to be pleasures;39 and magnanimity is the best habit. But every special excellence correctly distinguishes the greater from the less among its objects, as the wise man and excellence would direct, so that all the excellences seem to go with this one of magnanimity, or this with all the excellences. Further, it seems characteristic of the magnanimous man to be disdainful; each excellence makes one disdainful of what is esteemed great contrary to reason (e.g.
38 39

Reading hoti for hote. Reading dokounta for toiauta.

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bravery disdains dangers of this kindfor it considers it disgraceful to hold40 them great; and numbers are not always fearful: so the temperate disdains many great pleasures, and the liberal wealth). But this characteristic seems to belong to the magnanimous man because he cares about few things only, and those great, and not because someone else thinks them so. The magnanimous man would consider rather what one good man thinks than many ordinary men, as Antiphon after his condemnation said to Agathon when he praised his defence of himself. Contempt seems particularly the special characteristic of the magnanimous man; and, again, as regards honour, life, and wealthabout which mankind seems to care he values none of them except honour. He would be pained if denied honour, and if ruled by one undeserving. He delights most of all when he obtains honour. In this way he would seem to contradict himself; for to be41 concerned above all with honour, and yet to disdain the multitude and42 reputation, are inconsistent. So we must rst distinguish. For honour, great or small, is of two kinds; for it may be given by a crowd of ordinary men or by those worthy of consideration; and, again, there is a difference according to the ground on which honour is given. For it is made great not merely by the number of those who give the honour or by their quality, but also by its being precious; but in reality, power and all other goods are precious and worthy of pursuit only if they are truly great, so that there is no excellence without greatness; therefore every excellence, as we have said, makes a man magnanimous in regard to the object with which that excellence is concerned. But still there is a single excellence, magnanimity, alongside of the other excellences, and he who has this must be called in a special sense magnanimous. But since some goods are precious and some as we distinguished earlier, and of such goods some are in truth great and some small, and of these some men are worthy and think themselves so, among these we must look for the magnanimous man. There must be four different kinds of men. For a man may be worthy of great goods and think himself worthy of them, and again there may be small goods and a man worthy of them and thinking himself worthy; and we may have the opposites in regard to either kind of goods; for there may be a man worthy of small who thinks himself worthy of great and esteemed goods; and, again, one worthy of great but thinking himself worthy only of small. He then who is worthy of the small but thinks himself worthy of the great is blameable; for it is stupid and not noble that he should obtain out of proportion to his worth: the man also is blameable
40

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Reading mega gar hegeisthai. Reading to for to. 42 Retaining kai.

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who being worthy of great goods, because he possesses the gifts that make a man worthy, does not think himself worthy to share in them. There remains then the opposite of these twothe man who is worthy of great goods and thinks himself worthy of them, such being his disposition; he is the mean between the other two and is praiseworthy. Since, then, in respect of the choice and use of honour and the other esteemed goods, the best condition is magnanimity, and we dene the magnanimous man as being this, and not as being concerned with things useful; and since this mean is the most praiseworthy state, it is clear that magnanimity is a mean. But of the opposites, as shown in our list, the quality consisting in thinking oneself worthy of great goods when not worthy is vanityfor we give the name of vain to those who think themselves worthy of great things though they are not; but the quality of not thinking oneself worthy of great things though one is, we call mean-spiritednessfor it is held to be the mark of the mean-spirited not to think himself worthy of anything great though he possesses that for which he would justly be deemed worthy of it; hence, it follows that magnanimity is a mean between vanity and mean-spiritedness. The fourth of the sorts of men we have distinguished is neither wholly blameable nor yet magnanimous, not having to do with anything that possesses greatness, for he neither is worthy nor thinks himself worthy of great goods; therefore, he is not opposite to the magnanimous man; yet to be worthy and think oneself worthy of small goods might seem opposite to being worthy and thinking oneself worthy of great ones. But such a man is not opposite to the magnanimous man, for he is not to be blamed (his habit being what reason directs); he is, in fact, similar in nature to the magnanimous man; for both think themselves worthy of what they really are worthy of. He might become magnanimous, for of whatever he is worthy of he will think himself worthy. But the mean-spirited man who, possessed of great and honourable qualities, does not think himself worthy of great goodswhat would he do if he deserved only small? Either43 he would think himself worthy of great goods and thus be vain, or else of still smaller than he has. Therefore, no one would call a man mean-spirited because, being an alien in a city, he does not claim to govern but submits, but only one who does not, being well born and thinking power a great thing.
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6 The magnicent man is not concerned with any and every action or choice, but with expenditureunless we use the name metaphorically; without expense there cannot be magnicence. It is the tting in ornament, but ornament is not to be got out of ordinary expenditure, but consists in surpassing the merely necessary. The man, then, who tends to choose in great expenditure the tting
43

Reading e for ei, and ignoring Susemihls lacuna.

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magnitude, and desires this sort of mean, and with a view to this sort of pleasure, is magnicent; the man whose inclination is to something larger than necessary but out of harmony, has no name, though he is near to those called by some tasteless and showy: e.g. if a rich man, spending money on the marriage of a favourite, thinks it sufcient to make such arrangements as one makes to entertain those who drink to the Good Genius, he is shabby; while one who receives guests of this sort in the way suited to a marriage feast resembles the showy man, if he does it neither for the sake of reputation nor to gain power; but he who entertains suitably and as reason directs, is magnicent; for what looks well is the suitable; nothing unsuitable is tting. And what one does should be tting. For in what is tting is involved suitability both to the object44 (e.g. one thing is tting for a servants, another for a favourites wedding) and to the entertainer both in extent and kind, e.g. people thought that the mission conducted by Themistocles to the Olympian games was not tting to him because of his previous low station, but would have been to Cimon. But the man who is indifferent to questions of suitability is in none of the above classes. Similarly with liberality; for a man may be neither liberal nor illiberal. 7 In general of the other blameable or praiseworthy qualities of character some are excesses, others defects, others means, but of feelings, e.g. the envious man and the man who rejoices over anothers misfortunes. For, to consider the habits to which they owe their names, envy is pain felt at deserved good fortune, while the feeling of the man who rejoices at misfortunes has itself no name,45 but such a man shows his nature by46 rejoicing over undeserved ill fortune. Between them is the man inclined to righteous indignation, the name given by the ancients to pain felt at either good or bad fortune if undeserved, or to joy felt at them if deserved. Hence they make righteous indignation (nemesis) a god. Shame is a mean between shamelessness and shyness; for the man who thinks of no ones opinion is shameless, he who thinks of everyones alike is shy, he who thinks only of that of apparently good men is modest. Friendliness is a mean between animosity and attery; for the man who readily accommodates himself in all respects to anothers desires is a atterer; the man who opposes every desire is prone to enmity; the man who neither accommodates himself to nor resists everyones pleasure, but only accommodates himself to what seems to be best, is friendly. Dignity is a mean between self-will and too great obligingness; for the contemptuous man
44 45

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The text of this clause is uncertain. Omitting epi to. 46 Reading esti to for epi to.

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who lives with no consideration for another is self-willed; the man who adapts his whole life to another and is submissive to everybody is too obliging; but he who acts thus in certain cases but not in others, and only to those worthy, is dignied. The sincere and simple, or, as he is called, straightforward man, is a mean between the dissembler and the boaster. For the man who knowingly and falsely depreciates himself is a dissembler; the man who exalts himself is a boaster; the man who represents himself as he is, is sincere, and in the Homeric phrase honest; in general the one loves truth, the other a lie. Wittiness also is a mean, the witty man being a mean between the rustic and the buffoon. For just as the squeamish differs from the omnivorous in that the one takes little or nothing and that with reluctance, while the other accepts everything readily, so is the rustic related to the vulgar buffoon; the one accepts nothing comic without difculty, the other takes all easily and with pleasure. Neither attitude is right; one ought to accept some things and not others, as reason directsand the man who does this is witty. The proof is the usual one; wittiness of this kind, supposing we do not use the word in some transferred sense, is the best habit, and the mean is praiseworthy, and the extremes blameable. But wit being of two kindsone being delight in the comic, even when directed against ones self, if it be really comic, like a jest, the other being the faculty of producing such thingsthe two sorts differ from one another but both are means. For the man who can47 produce what a good judge will be pleased at, even if the joke is against himself, will be midway between the vulgar and the frigid man; this denition is better than that which merely requires the thing said to be not painful to the person mocked, no matter what sort of man he is; one ought rather to please the man who is in the mean, for he is a good judge. All these mean states are praiseworthy without being excellences, nor are their opposites vicesfor they do not involve choice. All of them occur in the classications of affections, for each is an affection. But since they are natural, they tend to the natural excellences; for, as will be said later, each excellence is found both naturally and also otherwise, viz. as including thought. Envy then tends to injustice (for the acts arising from it affect another), righteous indignation to justice, shame to temperancewhence some even put temperance into this genus. The sincere and the false are respectively sensible and foolish. But the mean is more opposed to the extremes than these to one another, because the mean is found with neither, but the extremes often with one another, and sometimes the same people are at once cowardly and foolhardy, or lavish in some ways, illiberal in others, and in general are lacking in uniformity in a bad sense
47

Reading ho dynamenos.

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for if they lack uniformity in a good sense, men of the mean type are produced; since, in a way, both extremes are present in the mean. The opposition between the mean and the extremes does not seem to be alike in both cases; sometimes the opposition is that of the excessive extreme, sometimes that of the defective, and the causes are the two rst givenrarity, e.g. of those insensible to pleasures, and the fact that the error to which we are most prone seems the more opposed to the mean. There is a third reason, namely, that the more like seems less opposite, e.g. foolhardiness to bravery, lavishness to liberality. We have, then, spoken sufciently about the other praiseworthy excellences; we must now speak of justice.

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Book VII
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1 Friendship, what it is and of what nature, who is a friend, and whether friendship has one or many senses (and if many, how many), and, further, how we should treat a friend, and what is justice in friendshipall this must be examined not less than any of the things that are noble and desirable in character. For it is thought to be the special business of the political art to produce friendship, and men say that excellence is useful because of this, for those who are unjustly treated by one another cannot be friends to one another. Further, all say that justice and injustice are specially exhibited towards friends; the same man seems both good and a friend, and friendship seems a sort of moral habit; and if one wishes to make men not wrong one another, one should48 make them friends, for genuine friends do not act unjustly. But neither will men act unjustly if they are just; therefore justice and friendship are either the same or not far different. Further, men believe a friend to be among the greatest of goods, and friendlessness and solitude to be most terrible, because all life and voluntary association is with friends; for we spend our days with our family, kinsmen, or comrades, children, parents, or wife. The private justice practised to friends depends on ourselves alone, while justice towards all others is determined by the laws, and does not depend on us. Many questions are raised about friendship. There is the view of those who include the external world and give the term an extended meaning; for some think that like is friend to like, whence the saying how God ever draws like to like; or the saying crow to crow; or thief knows thief, and wolf wolf. The physicists even systematize the whole of nature on the principle that like goes to like whence Empedocles said that the dog sat on the tile because it was most like it. Some, then, describe a friend thus, but others say that opposites are friends; for they say the loved and desired is in every case a friend, but the dry does not desire the dry but the moistwhence the sayings, Earth loves the rain, and in all things change is pleasant; but change is change to an opposite. And like hates like, for potter is jealous of potter, and animals nourished from the same source are enemies. Such, then, is the discrepancy between these views; for some think the like a friend, and the opposite an enemythe less is ever the enemy of the
48

Reading allelous, dei philous.

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more, and begins a day of hate; and, further, the places of contraries are separate, but friendship seems to bring together. But others think opposites are friends, and Heraclitus blames the poet who wrote may strife perish from among gods and men; for (says he) there could not be harmony without the low and the high note, nor living things without male and female, two opposites. There are, then, these two views about friendship; and they are too general and far removed. There are other views that come nearer to and are more suitable to the phenomena. Some think that bad men cannot be friends but only the good; while others think it strange that mothers should not love their own children. (Even among the brutes we nd such friendship; at least they choose to die for their children.) Some, again, think that we only regard the useful as a friend, their proof being that all pursue the useful, but the useless, even in themselves, they throw away (as old Socrates said, citing the case of our spittle, hairs, and nails), and that we cast off useless parts, and in the end at death our very body, the corpse being useless; but those who have a use for it keep it, as in Egypt. Now all these things seem opposed to one another; for the like is useless to the like, and contrariety is furthest removed from likeness, and the contrary is not useless to its contrary, for contraries destroy one another. Further, some think it easy to acquire a friend, others a very rare thing to recognize one, and impossible without misfortune; for all wish to seem friends to the prosperous. But others would have us distrust even those who remain with us in misfortune, alleging that they are deceiving us and making pretence, that by giving their company to us when we are in misfortune they may obtain our friendship when we are again prosperous. 2 We must, then, nd a method that will best explain the views held on these topics, and also put an end to difculties and contradictions. And this will happen if the contrary views are seen to be held with some show of reason; such a view will be most in harmony with the phenomena; and both the contradictory statements will in the end stand, if what is said is true in one sense but untrue in another. Another puzzle is whether the good or the pleasant is the object of love. For if we love what we desireand love is of this kind, for none is a lover but one who ever lovesand if desire is for the pleasant, in this way the object of love would be the pleasant; but if it is what we wish for, then it is the goodthe good and the pleasant being different. About all these and the other cognate questions we must attempt to gain clear distinctions, starting from the following principle. The desired and the wished for is either the good or the apparent good. Now this is why the pleasant is desired,
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for it is an apparent good; for some think it such, and to some it appears such, though they do not think so. For appearance and opinion do not reside in the same part of the soul. It is clear, then, that we love both the good and the pleasant. This being settled, we must make another assumption. Of the good some is absolutely good, some good to a particular man, though not absolutely; and the same things are at once absolutely good and absolutely pleasant. For we say that what is advantageous to a body in health is absolutely good for a body, but not what is good for a sick body, such as drugs and the knife. Similarly, things absolutely pleasant to a body are those pleasant to a healthy and unaffected body, e.g. seeing in light, not in darkness, though the opposite is the case to one with ophthalmia. And the pleasanter wine is not that which is pleasant to one whose tongue has been spoilt by inebriety (for they49 add vinegar to it), but that which is pleasant to sensation unspoiled. So with the soul; what is pleasant not to children or brutes, but to the adult, is really pleasant; at least, when we remember both we choose the latter. And as the child or brute is to the adult man, so are the bad and foolish to the good and sensible. To these, that which suits their habit is pleasant, and that is the good and noble. Since, then, good has many meaningsfor one thing we call good because its nature is such, and another because it is protable and usefuland further, the pleasant is in part absolutely pleasant and absolutely good, and in part pleasant to a particular individual and apparently good; just as in the case of inanimate things we may choose and love a thing for either of these reasons, so in the case of a man loving one man because of his character or because of excellence, another because he is protable and useful, another because he is pleasant, and for pleasure. So a man becomes a friend when he is loved and returns that love, and this is recognized by the two men in question. There must, then, be three kinds of friendship, not all being so named for one thing or as species of one genus, nor yet having the same name quite by mere accident. For all the senses are related to one which is the primary, just as is the case with the word medical; for we speak of a medical soul, body, instrument, or act, but properly the name belongs to that primarily so called. The primary is that of which the denition is contained in the denition of all;50 e.g. a medical instrument is one that a medical man would use, but the denition of the contained is not implied in that of medical man. Everywhere, then, we seek for the primary. But because the universal is primary, they also take the primary to
49 50

Omitting oute. Reading pasin for hemin.

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be universal, and this is an error. And so they are not able to do justice to all the phenomena of friendship; for since one denition will not suit all, they think there are no other friendships; but the others are friendships, only not similarly so. But they, nding the primary friendship will not suit, assuming it would be universal if really primary, deny that the other friendships even are friendships; whereas there are many species of friendship; this was part of what we have already said, since we have distinguished the three senses of friendshipone due to excellence, another to usefulness, a third to pleasantness. Of these the friendship based on usefulness is that of the majority; men love one another because of their usefulness and to the extent of this; so we have the proverb Glaucus, a helper is a friend so long as51 he ghts, and the Athenians no longer know the Megarians. But the friendship based on pleasure is that of the young, for they are sensitive to pleasure; therefore also their friendship easily changes; for with a change in their characters as they grow up there is also a change in their pleasures. But the friendship based on excellence is that of the best men. It is clear from this that the primary friendship, that of good men, is a mutual returning of love and choice. For what is loved is dear to him who loves it, but a man loving in return is dear to the man loved. This friendship, then, is peculiar to man, for he alone perceives anothers choice. But the other friendships are found also among the brutes where utility is in some degree present, both between tame animals and men, and between animals themselves, as in the case mentioned by Herodotus of the friendship between the sandpiper and the crocodile, and the coming together and parting of birds that soothsayers speak of. The bad may be friends to one another on the ground both of usefulness and of pleasure; but some deny them to be friends, because there is not the primary friendship between them; for a bad man will injure a bad man, and those who are injured by one another do not love one another; but in fact they do love, only not with the primary friendship. Nothing prevents their loving with the other kinds; for owing to pleasure they put up with each others injury, so long as52 they are incontinent. But those whose love is based on pleasure do not seem to be friends, when we look carefully, because their friendship is not of the primary kind, being unstable, while that is stable; it is, however, as has been said, a friendship, only not the primary kind but derived from it. To speak, then, of friendship in the primary sense only is to do violence to the phenomena, and makes one assert paradoxes; but it is impossible
51 52

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Reading tosson philos este. Reading heos for hos.

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for all friendships to come under one denition. The only alternative left is that in a sense there is only one friendship, the primary; but in a sense all kinds are friendship, not as possessing a common name accidentally without being specially related to one another, nor yet as falling under one species, but rather as in relation to one and the same thing. But since the same thing is at the same time absolutely good and absolutely pleasant (if nothing interferes), and the genuine friend is absolutely the friend in the primary sense, and such is the man desirable for himself (and he must be such; for the man to whom53 one wishes good to happen for himself, one must also desire to exist), the genuine friend is also absolutely pleasant; hence any sort of friend is thought pleasant. Again, one ought rather to distinguish further, for the subject needs reection. Do54 we love what is good for ourselves or what is good absolutely? and is actual loving attended with pleasure, so that the loved object is pleasant, or not? For the two must be harmonized. For what is not absolutely good, but perhaps55 bad, is something to avoid, and what is not good for ones self is nothing to one; but what is sought is that the absolutely good should be good in the further sense of being good to the individual. For the absolutely good is absolutely desirable, but for each individual his own; and these must agree. Excellence brings about this agreement, and the political art exists to make them agree for those to whom as yet they do not. . . .56 And one who is a human being is ready and on the road for this (for by nature that which is absolutely good is good to him), and man rather than woman, and the gifted rather than the ungifted; but the road is through pleasure; what is noble must be pleasant. But when these two disagree a man cannot yet be perfectly good, for incontinence may arise; for it is in the disagreement of the good with the pleasant in the passions that incontinence occurs. So that since the primary friendship is grounded on excellence, friends of this sort will be themselves absolutely good, and this not because they are useful, but in another way. For good to the individual and the absolutely good are two, and as with the protable so with habits. For the absolutely protable differs from what is protable to an individual, as57 taking exercise does from taking drugs. So that the habit called human excellence is of two kinds, for we will assume man to be one of the things excellent by nature; for the excellence of the naturally excellent
Reading ho for hos. Reading echei gar epistasin poteron. 55 Reading an pos for haplos. 56 Susemihl marks a lacuna. 57 Reading auto, oion to for to kalon toiouton.
54 53

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is an absolute good, but the excellence of that which is not thus good only to it. Similarly, then, with the pleasant. For here one must pause and examine whether friendship can exist without pleasure, how such a friendship differs from other friendship, and on which of the twogoodness or pleasurethe loving depends, whether one loves a man because he is good even if not pleasant, and in any case not for his pleasantness. Now, loving having two senses, does actual love seem to involve pleasure because activity is good? It is clear that just as in science what we have recently contemplated and learnt is most perceptible because of its pleasantness, so also is the recognition of the familiar, and the same account applies to both. Naturally, at least, the absolutely good is absolutely pleasant, and pleasant to those to whom it is good. From which it at once follows that like takes pleasure in like, and that nothing is so pleasant to man as man; and if this is so even before they are perfect, it is clear it must be so when they are perfect; and the good man is perfect. But if active loving is a mutual choice with pleasure in each others acquaintance, it is clear that in general the primary friendship is a reciprocal choice of the absolutely good and pleasant because it is good and pleasant; and this friendship is the habit from which such choice springs. For its function is an activity, and this is not external, but in the one who feels love. But the function of every faculty is external; for it is in something different or in ones self qua different. Therefore to love is to feel pleasure, but not to be loved; for to be loved is the activity of what is lovable, but to love is the activity of friendship also; and the one is found only in the animate, the other also in the inanimate, for even inanimate things are loved. But since active loving is to treat the loved58 qua loved, and the friend is loved by the friend qua friend and not qua musician or doctor, the pleasure coming from him merely as being himself is the pleasure of friendship; for he loves the object as himself and not for being someone else. So that if he does not rejoice in him for being good the primary friendship does not exist, nor should any of his incidental qualities hinder more than his goodness gives pleasure. For if59 a man has an unpleasant odour he is left. For he must be content with goodwill without actual association.60 This then is primary friendship, and all admit it to be friendship. It is through it that the other friendships seem friendships to some, but are doubted to be such by others. For friendship seems something stable, and this alone is stable. For a formed decision is stable, and where we do not act quickly or easily, we get the
58 59

Reading to philoumeno. Reading ei for ti. 60 Reading agapeton gar to eunoein, syzen de me.

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decision right. There is no stable friendship without condence, but condence needs time. One must then make trial, as Theognis says, You cannot know the mind of man or woman till you have tried them as you might cattle. Nor is a friend made except through time; they do indeed wish to be friends, and such a state easily passes muster as friendship. For when men are eager to be friends, by performing every friendly service to one another they think they not merely wish to be, but are friends. But it happens with friendship as with other things; as man is not in health merely because he wishes to be so, neither are men at once friends as soon as they wish to be friends. The proof is that men in this condition, without having made trial of one another, are easily made enemies; wherever each has allowed the other to test him, they are not easily made enemies; but where they have not, they will be persuaded whenever those who try to break up the friendship produce evidence. It is clear at the same time that this friendship does not exist between the bad, for the bad man feels distrust and is malignant to all, measuring others by himself. Therefore the good are more easily deceived unless experience has taught them distrust. But the bad prefer natural goods to a friend and none of them loves a man so much as things; therefore they are not friends. The proverbial community among friends is not found among them; the friend is made a part of things, not things regarded as part of the friend. The primary friendship then is not found towards many, for it is hard to test many men, for one would have to live with each. Nor should one choose a friend like a garment. Yet in all things it seems the mark of a sensible man to choose the better of two alternatives; and if one has used the worse garment for a long time and not the better, the better is to be chosen, but not in place of an old friend one of whom you do not know whether he is better. For a friend is not to be had without trial nor in a single day, but there is need of time and so the bushel of salt has become proverbial. He must also be not merely good absolutely but good for you, if the friend is to be a friend to you. For a man is good absolutely by being good, but a friend by being good for another, and absolutely good and a friend when these two attributes are combined so that what is absolutely good is good for the other, or61 else not absolutely good for the good man, but good to another in the sense of useful. But the need of active loving also prevents one from being at the same time a friend to many; for one cannot be active towards many at the same time. From these facts then it is clear that it is correctly said that friendship is a stable thing, just as happiness is a thing sufcient in itself. It has been rightly said, for nature is stable but not wealth, but it is still better to say excellence
61

Reading touto to allo e kai.

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than nature; and Time is said to show the friend, and bad fortune rather than good fortune. For then it is clear that the goods of friends are common (for friends alone instead of things naturally good and evilwhich are the matters with which good and bad fortune are concernedchoose a man rather than the existence of some of those things and the non-existence of others). But misfortune shows those who are not really friends, but friends only for some utility. But time reveals both sorts; for even the useful man does not show his usefulness quickly, as the pleasant man does his pleasantness; yet the absolutely pleasant is not quick to show himself either. For men are like wines and meats; the pleasantness of them shows itself quickly, but if it continues longer it is unpleasant and not sweet, and so it is with men. For the absolutely pleasant must be determined as such by the end it realizes and the time for which it continues pleasant. Even the vulgar would admit this, judging not62 merely according to results but in the way in which, speaking of a drink, they call it sweeter. For this is unpleasant not63 for the result but from not being continuous, though it deceives us at the start. The rst friendship thenby reason of which the others get the nameis that based on excellence and due to the pleasure of excellence, as has been said before; the other kinds occur also in children, brutes, and bad men; whence the sayings, like is pleased with like and bad adheres to bad from pleasure. For the bad may be pleasant to one another, not qua bad or qua neither good nor bad, but (say) as both being musicians, or the one fond of music and the other a musician, and inasmuch as all have some good in them, and in this way they harmonize with one another. Further, they might be useful and protable to one another, not absolutely but in relation to their choice, or in virtue of some neutral characteristic. Also a good man may be a friend to a bad, the bad being of use to the good in relation to the good mans existing choice, the good to the incontinent in relation to his existing choice, and to the bad in relation to his natural choice. And he will wish for his friend what is good, the absolutely good absolutely, and conditionally what is good for the friend, so far as poverty or illness is of advantage to himand these for the sake of absolute goods; taking a medicine is an instance, for that no one wishes,64 but wishes only for some particular purpose. Further, a good man and a bad man may be friends in the way in which those not good might be friends to one another. A man might be pleasant, not as bad but as partaking in some common property, e.g. as being musical, or again, so far as there is something good in all
62

1238a30-1238b14

Retaining ouk for hoti. Reading ou dia. 64 Ignoring Susemihls lacuna.

63

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(for which reason some might be glad to associate even with the good), or in so far as they suit each individual; for all have something of the good.
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3 These then are three kinds of friendship; and in all of them the word friendship implies a kind of equality. For even those who are friends through excellence are mutually friends by a sort of equality of excellence. But another variety is the friendship of superiority to inferiority, e.g. as the excellence of a god is superior to that of a man (for this is another kind of friendship) and in general that of ruler to subject; just as justice in this case is different, for here it is a proportional equality, not numerical equality. Into this class falls the relation of father to son and of benefactor to beneciary; and there are varieties of these again, e.g. there is a difference between the relation of father to son, and of husband to wife, the latter being that of ruler to subject, the former that of benefactor to beneciary. In these varieties there is not at all, or at least not in equal degree, the return of love for love. For it would be ridiculous to accuse a god because the love one receives in return from him is not equal to the love given him, or for the subject to make the same complaint against his ruler. For the part of a ruler is to receive not to give love, or at least to give love in a different way. And the pleasure65 of the man who needs nothing over his own possessions or child, and that of him who lacks over what comes to him, are not the same. Similarly also with those who are friends through use or pleasure, some are on an equal footing with each other, in others there is the relation of superiority and inferiority. Therefore those who think themselves to be on the former footing nd fault if the other is not equally useful to and a benefactor of them; and similarly with regard to pleasure. This is obvious in the case of lover and beloved; for this is frequently a cause of strife between them. The lover does not perceive that the passion in each has not the same reason; therefore. . .66 a lover would not say such things. But they think that there is the same reason for the passion of each. 4 There being, then, as has been said, three kinds of friendshipbased on excellence, utility, and pleasantnessthese again are subdivided each into two, one kind based on equality, the other on superiority. Both are friendships, but only those between whom there is equality are friends; it would be absurd for a man to be the friend of a child, yet certainly he loves and is loved by him. Sometimes the superior ought to be loved, but if he loves, he is reproached for loving one undeserving; for measurement is made by the worth of the friends and a sort of
65 66

1239a1-1239b6

Omitting ouden. The text at this point is corrupt.

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equality. Some then, owing to inferiority in age, do not deserve to receive an equal love, and others because of excellence or birth or some other such superiority possessed by the other person. The superior ought to67 claim either not to return the love or not to return it in the same measure, whether in the friendship of utility, pleasure, or excellence. Where the superiority is small, disputes naturally arise; for the small is in some cases of no account, e.g. in weighing wood, though not in weighing gold. But men judge wrongly what is small; for their own good by its nearness seems great, that of another by its distance small. But when the difference is excessive, then not even those affected seek to make out that their love should be returned or equally returned, e.g. as if a man were to claim this from a god. It is clear then that men are friends when on an equality with each other, but we may have return of love without their being friends. And it is clear why men seek the friendship of superiority rather than that of equality; for in the former they obtain both love and superiority. Therefore with some the atterer is more valued than the friend, for he procures the appearance of both love and superiority for the object of his attery. The ambitious are especially of this kind; for to be an object of admiration involves superiority. By nature some grow up loving, and others ambitious; the former is one who delights rather in loving than in being loved, the other tends to be fond of honour. He, then, who delights in being loved and admired really loves superiority; the other, the loving, is fond of the pleasure of loving. This by his mere activity of loving he must have;68 for to be loved is an accident; one may be loved without knowing it, but not love. Loving, rather than being loved, depends on lovingness; being loved rather depends on the nature of the object of love. And here is a proof. The friend would choose, if both were not possible, rather to know than to be known, as we see women do when allowing others to adopt their children, e.g. Antiphons Andromache. For wishing to be known seems to be felt on ones own account and in order to get, not to do, some good; but wishing to know is felt in order that one may do and love. Therefore we praise those who persist in their love towards the dead; for they know but are not known. That, then, there are several sorts of friendship, that they are three in number, and what are the differences between being loved and having love returned, and between friends on an equality and friends in a relation of superiority and inferiority, has now been stated. 5 But since friendly is also used more universally, as was indeed said at the beginning, by those who take in extraneous considerationssome saying that
67 68

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Reading dei for aei. Reading anagke energounti.

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1240a5-1240a7

the like is friendly, and some the contrary,we must speak also of the relation of these friendships to those previously mentioned. The like is brought both under the pleasant and under the good, for the good is simple, but the bad various in form; and the good man is ever like himself and does not change in character; but the bad and the foolish are quite different in the evening from what they were in the morning. Therefore unless the bad come to some agreement, they are not friends to one another but are parted; but unstable friendship is not friendship. So thus the like is friendly, because the good is like; but it may also be friendly because of pleasure; for those like one another have the same pleasures, and everything too is by nature pleasant to itself. Therefore the voices, habits, and company of those of the same species are pleasantest to each side, even in the animals other than man; and in this way it is possible for even the bad to love one another: pleasure glues the bad to the bad. But opposites are friendly through usefulness; for the like is useless to itself; therefore master needs slave, and slave master; man and woman need one another, and the opposite is pleasant and desired qua useful, not as included in the end but as contributing towards it. For when a thing has obtained what it desires, it has reached its end and no longer desires the opposite, e.g. heat does not desire cold, nor dryness moisture. Yet in a sense the love of the contrary is love of the good; for the opposites desire one another because of the mean; they desire one another like tallies because thus out of the two arises a single mean. Further, the love is accidentally of the opposite, but per se of the mean, for opposites desire not one another but the mean. For if over-chilled they return to the mean by being warmed, and if over-warmed by being chilled. And so with everything else. Otherwise they are ever desiring, never in the mean states; but that which is in the mean delights without desire in what is naturally pleasant, while the others delight in all that puts them out of their natural condition. This kind of relation then is found also among inanimate things; but love occurs when the relation is found among the living. Therefore some delight in what is unlike themselves, the austere in the witty, the energetic in the lazy; for they reduce each other to the mean state. Accidentally, then, as has been said, opposites are friendly, because of the good. The number then of kinds of friendship, and the different senses in which we speak of friends and of persons as loving and loved, both where this constitutes friendship and where it does not, have now been stated. 6 The question whether a man is a friend to himself or not requires much inquiry. For some think that every man is above all a friend to himself; and they use this friendship as a canon by which to test his friendship to all other friends. If

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we look to argument and to the properties usually thought characteristic of friends, then the two kinds of friendship are in some of these respects opposed to one another, but in others alike. For this friendshipthat to oneselfis, in a way, friendship by analogy, not absolutely. For loving and being loved require two separate individuals. Therefore a man is a friend to himself rather in the sense in which we have described the incontinent and continent as willing or unwilling, namely in the sense that the parts of his soul are in a certain relation to each other; and all problems of this sort have a similar explanation, e.g. whether a man can be a friend or enemy to himself, and whether a man can wrong himself. For all these relations require two separate individuals; so far then as the soul is two, these relations can in a sense belong to it; so far as these two are not separate, the relations cannot belong to it. By a mans attitude to himself the other modes of friendship, under which we are accustomed to consider friendship in this discourse, are determined. For a man seems to us a friend, who wishes the good or what he thinks to be such to someone, not on his own account but for the sake of that other; or, in another way, if he wishes for another man existenceeven if he is not bestowing goods69 on that others account and not on his own, he would seem most of all to be a friend to him. And in yet another manner he would be a friend to him whom he wishes to live with merely for the sake of his company and for no other reason; thus fathers wish the existence of their sons, but prefer to live with others. Now these various ways of friendship are discordant with one another. For some think they are not loved, unless the other wishes them this or that good, some unless their existence or their society is desired. Further, to sorrow with the sorrowing, for no other reason than their sorrow, we shall regard as love (e.g. slaves grieve with their masters because their masters when in trouble are cruel to them, not for the sake of the masters themselves)as mothers feel towards their children, and birds that share one anothers pains. For the friend wants, if possible, not merely to feel pain along with his friend, but to feel the same pain, e.g. to feel thirsty when he is thirsty, if that could be, as closely as possible. The same words are applicable to joy, which, if felt for no other reason than that the other feels joy, is a sign of friendship. Further, we say about friendship such things as that friendship is equality, and true friends a single soul. All such phrases point back to the single individual; for a man wishes good to himself70 in this fashion; for no
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69 70

Omitting me to to einai. Reading auto for auto.

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one benets himself for some further reason . . .71 for he who shows that he loves seems to want to be loved, not to love. And wishing the existence above all of the friend, living with him, sharing his joy and his grief, unity of soul with the friend, the impossibility of even living without one another, and the dying together are characteristic of a single individual. (For such is the condition of the individual and he perhaps takes pleasure in his own company.) All these characters we nd in the relation of the good man to himself. In the bad man, e.g. the incontinent, there is variance, and for this reason it seems possible for a man to be at enmity with himself; but so far as he is single and indivisible, he is an object of desire to himself. Such is the good man, the man whose friendship is based on excellence, for the wicked man is not one but many, in the same day other than himself and ckle. So that a mans friendship for himself is at bottom friendship towards the good; for because a man is in a sense like himself, single, and good for himself, so far he is a friend and object of desire to himself. And this is natural to man; but the bad man is unnatural. The good man never nds fault with himself at the moment of his act, like the incontinent, nor the later with the earlier man, like the penitent, nor the earlier with the later, like the liar. Generally, if it is necessary to distinguish as the sophists do, he is related to himself as Coriscus to good Coriscus. For it is clear that some identical portion of them is good; for when they blame themselves, they kill themselves. But every one seems good to himself. But the man that is good absolutely, seeks to be a friend to himself, as has been said, since he has within him two parts which by nature desire to be friends and which it is impossible to tear apart. Therefore in the case of man each is thought to be the friend of himself; but not so with the other animals; e.g. the horse is himself to himself. . .72 therefore not a friend. Nor are children, till they have attained the power of choice; for already then the mind is at variance with the appetite. Ones friendship to oneself resembles the friendship arising from kinship; for neither bond can be dissolved by ones own power; but even if they quarrel, the kinsmen remain kinsmen; and so the man remains one so long as he lives. The various senses then of loving, and how all friendships reduce to the primary kind, is clear from what has been said. 7 It is appropriate to the inquiry to study agreement of feeling and kindly feeling; for some identify these, and others think they cannot exist apart. Now kindly feeling is not altogether different from friendship, nor yet the same; for when we distinguish friendship according to its three sorts, kindly feeling is found
71 72

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Text corrupt. Susemihl marks a lacuna.

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neither in the friendship of usefulness nor in that of pleasure. For if one wishes well to the other because that is useful to oneself, one would be so wishing not for the objects sake, but for his own; but goodwill seems like. . .73 to be not goodwill for him who feels the goodwill, but for him towards whom it is felt. Now if goodwill existed in the friendship towards the pleasant, then men would feel goodwill towards things inanimate. So that it is clear that goodwill is concerned with the friendship that depends on character; but goodwill shows itself in merely wishing, friendship in also doing what one wishes. For goodwill is the beginning of friendship; every friend has goodwill, but not all who have goodwill are friends. He who has goodwill only is like a man at the beginning, and therefore it is the beginning of friendship, not friendship itself . . .74 For friends seem to agree in feeling, and those who agree in feeling seem to be friends. Friendly agreement is not about all things, but only about things that may be done by those in agreement and about what relates to their common life. Nor is it agreement merely in thought or merely in desire, for it is possible to know one thing and desire the opposite,75 as in the incontinent the motives disagree, nor if76 a man agrees with another in choice, does he necessarily agree in desire. Agreement is only found in the case of good men; at least, bad men when they choose and desire the same things77 harm one another. Agreement, like friendship, does not appear to have a single meaning; but still in its primary and natural form it is good; and so the bad cannot agree; the agreement of the bad, when they choose and desire the same things, is something different. And the two parties must so desire the same thing that it is possible for both to get what they desire; for if they desire that which cannot belong to both, they will quarrel; but those in agreement will not quarrel. There is agreement when the two parties make the same choice as to who is to rule, who to be ruled, meaning by the same, not that each one should choose himself, but that both should choose the same person. Agreement is the friendship of fellow citizens. So much then about agreement and goodwill. 8 It is disputed why benefactors are more fond of the beneted than the beneted of their benefactors. The opposite seems to be just. One might suppose it happens from consideration of utility and what is protable to oneself; for the benefactor has a debt due to him, while the beneted has to repay a debt. This,
73 74

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Susemihl marks a lacuna. Susemihl marks a lacuna. 75 Reading noein kai for to kinoun. 76 Reading oud ei for ou dei. 77 Reading tauta for tauta.

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however, is not all; the reason is partly the general natural principleactivity is more desirable. There is the same relation between the effect and the activity, the beneted being as it were an effect or creation of the benefactor. Hence in animals their strong feeling for their children both in begetting them and in preserving them afterwards. And so fathers love their childrenand still more mothers more than they are loved by them. And these again love their own children more than their parents, because nothing is so good as activity; in fact, mothers love more than fathers because they think the children to be more their own creation; for the amount of work is measured by the difculty, and the mother suffers more in birth. So much then for friendship towards oneself and among more than one.
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9 But justice seems to be a sort of equality and friendship also involves equality, if the saying is not wrong that love is equality. Now constitutions are all of them a particular form of justice; for a constitution is a partnership, and every partnership rests on justice, so that whatever be the number of species of friendship, there are the same of justice and partnership; these all border on one another, and the species of one have differences akin to those of the other. But since there is the same relation between soul and body, artisan and tool, and master and slave, between each of these pairs there is no partnership; for they are not two, but the rst term in each is one, and the second a part of this one. Nor is the good to be divided between the two, but that of both belongs to the one for the sake of which the pair exists. For the body is the souls natural tool, while the slave is as it were a part and detachable tool of the master, the tool being a sort of inanimate slave. The other partnerships are a part of the civic partnership, e.g. those of the phratries and priestly colleges78 or pecuniary partnerships.79 All constitutions are found together in the household, both the true and the corrupt forms, for the same thing is true in constitutions as of harmonies. The government of the children by the father is royal, the relation of husband and wife aristocratic, the relation of brothers that of a commonwealth; the corruptions of these three are tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy. The forms of justice then are also so many in number. But since equality is either numerical or proportional, there will be various species of justice, friendship, and partnership; on numerical equality rests the democratic partnership, and the friendship of comradesboth being measured by the same standard, on proportional the aristocratic80 and the royal. For the same
78 79

Reading orgeon. Omitting eti politeiai. 80 Omitting ariste.

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thing is not just for the superior and the inferior; what is proportional is just. Such is the friendship between father and child; and the same sort of thing may be seen in partnerships. 10 We speak of friendships of kinsmen, comrades, partners, the so-called civic friendship. That of kinsmen has more than one species, that of brothers and that of father and sons. There is the friendship based on proportion, as that of the father to his children, and that based on mere number, e.g. that of brothers, for this latter resembles the friendship of comrades; for here too age gives certain privileges. Civic friendship has been established mainly in accordance with utility; for men seem to have come together because each is not sufcient for himself, though they would have come together anyhow for the sake of living in company. Only the civic friendship and its parallel corruption are not merely friendships, but the partnership is that of friends; other friendships rest on the relation of superiority. The justice belonging to the friendship of those useful to one another is pre-eminently justice, for it is civic or political justice. The concurrence of the saw and the art that uses it is of another sort; for it is not for some end common to bothit is like instrument and soulbut for the sake of the user. It is true that the tool itself81 receives attention, and it is just that it should receive it, for its function, that is; for it exists for the sake of its function. . . .82 And the essence of a gimlet is twofold, but more properly it is its activity, namely boring holes. In this class come the body and a slave, as has been said before. To inquire, then, how to behave to a friend is to look for a particular kind of justice, for generally all justice is in relation to a friend. For justice involves a number of individuals who are partners, and the friend is a partner either in family or in ones scheme of life. For man is not merely a political but also a household-maintaining animal, and his unions are not, like those of the other animals, conned to certain times, and formed with any chance partner, whether male or female; but . . .83 man has a tendency to partnership with those to whom he is by nature akin. There would, then, be partnership and a kind of justice, even if there were no state; and the household is a kind of friendship; the relation, indeed, of master and servant is that of an art and its tools, a soul and its body; and these are not friendships, nor forms of justice, but something similar to justice; just as health is not justice, but something similar. But the friendship of man and wife is a friendship based on utility, a partnership; that of father and son is the same as
81 82

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Reading auto to for touto. Susemihl marks a lacuna. 83 Text corrupt.

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that of god to man, of the benefactor to the beneted, and in general of the natural ruler to the natural subject. That of brothers to one another is eminently that of comrades, inasmuch as it involves equality84 for I was not declared a bastard brother to him; but the same Zeus, my king, was called the father of both of us.85 For this is the language of men that seek equality. Therefore in the household rst we have the sources and springs of friendship, of political organization, and of justice. But since there are three sorts of friendship, based on excellence, utility, and pleasantness respectively, and two varieties of each of thesefor each of them may imply either superiority or equalityand the justice involved in these is clear from the debates that have been held on it, in a friendship between superior and inferior the claim for proportion takes different forms, the superiors claim being one for inverse proportion, i.e. as he is to the inferior, so should what he receives from the inferior be to what the inferior receives from him, he being in the position of ruler to subject; if he cannot get that, he demands at least numerical equality. For so it is in the other associations, the two members enjoying an equality sometimes of number, sometimes of ratio. For if they contributed numerically equal sums of money, they divide an equal amount, and by an equal number; if not equal sums, then they divide proportionally. But the inferior inverts this proportion and joins crosswise. But in this way the superior would seem to come off the worse, and friendship and partnership to be a gratuitous burden. Equality must then be restored and proportion created by some other means; and this means is honour, which by nature belongs to a ruler or god in relation to a subject. The prot and the honour must be equated. But civic friendship is that resting on equality; it is based on utility; and just as cities are friends to one another, so in the like way are citizens. The Athenians no longer know the Megarians; nor do citizens one another, when they are no longer useful to one another, and the friendship is merely a temporary one for a particular exchange of goods. There is here, too, the relation of ruler and subject which is neither the natural relation, nor that involved in kingship, but each is ruler and ruled in turn; nor is it eithers purpose to act with the free benecence of a god, but that he may share equally in the good and in the burdensome service. Civic friendship, then, claims to be one based on equality. But of the friendship of utility there are two kinds, the strictly legal and the moral. Civic friendship looks to equality and to the object as sellers and buyers do; hence the proverb a
84 85

Reading he kat isoteta. Sophocles, frag. 684 Nauck.

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xed wage for a friend. When, then, this civic friendship proceeds by contract, it is of the legal kind; but when each of the two parties leaves the return for his services to be xed by the other, we have the moral friendship, that of comrades. Therefore recrimination is very frequent in this sort of friendship; and the reason is that it is unnatural; for friendships based on utility and based on excellence are different; but these wish to have both together, associating together really for the sake of utility, but representing their friendship as moral, like that of good men; pretending to trust one another they make out their friendship to be not merely legal. For in general there are more recriminations in the useful friendship than in either of the other two (for excellence is not given to recrimination, and pleasant friends having got what they wanted, and given what they had, are done with it; but useful friends do not dissolve their association at once, if their relations are not merely legal but those of comrades); still the legal form of useful friendship is free from recrimination. The legal association is dissolved by a money-payment (for it measures equality in money), but the moral is dissolved by voluntary consent. Therefore in some countries the law forbids lawsuits for voluntary transactions between those who associate thus as friends, and rightly; for good men do not have bonds of justice with one another; and such as these have dealings with one another as good and trustworthy men. In this kind of friendship it is uncertain how either will recriminate on the other, seeing that they trust each other not in a limited legal way but on the basis of their characters. It is a further problem on which of two grounds we are to determine what is just, whether by looking to the amount of service rendered, or to what was its character for the recipient; for, to borrow the language of Theognis, the service may be Small to thee, O goddess, but great to me. Or the opposite may happen, as in the saying, this is sport to you but death to me. Hence, as we have said, come recriminations. For the benefactor claims a return on the ground of having done a great service, because he has done it at the request of the other, or with some other plea of the great value of the benet to the others interest, saying nothing about what it was to himself; while the recipient insists on its value to the benefactor, not on its value to himself. Sometimes the receiver inverts the position, insisting how little the benet has turned out to him, while the doer insists on its great magnitude to him, e.g. if at considerable risk one has beneted another to the extent of a drachma, the one insists on the greatness of the risk, the other on the smallness of the money, just as in the repayment of moneyfor there the dispute is on this pointthe one claims the value of it when it was lent, the other concedes only the value of it now when it is returned, unless they have made an explicit provision in the contract. Civic friendship, then, looks to the agreement

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and the thing, moral friendship to the choice; here then we have a truer justice, and a friendly justice. The reason for the quarrel is that moral friendship is more noble, but useful friendship more necessary; men start, then, by proposing to be moral friends, i.e. friends through excellence; but as soon as some private interest arises, they show clearly they were not so. For the multitude aim at the noble only when they have plenty of everything else; and at noble friendship similarly. So that it is clear what distinctions should be drawn in these matters. If the two are moral friends, we must look to see if the choice of each is equal; and then nothing more should be claimed by either from the other. But if their friendship is of the useful or civic kind, we must consider what would have been protable lines for an agreement. And if one declares that they are friends on one basis, but the other on the other, it is not honourable, if one ought to do something in return, merely to use ne language; and so too, in the other cases; but since they have not declared their friendship a moral friendship, someone must be made judge, so that neither cheats the other by a false pretence; and so each must put up with his luck. But that moral friendship is based on choice is clear, since even if after receiving great benets one does not repay them through inability, but repays only to the extent of his ability, he acts honourably; and a god is satised at getting sacrices as good as our power allows. But a seller of goods will not be satised if the buyer says he cannot pay more; nor will a lender of money. Recriminations are common in dissimilar friendships, where action and reaction are not in the same straight line; and it is not easy to see what is just. For it is hard to measure by just this one unit different directions; we nd this in the relation of lovers, for there the one pursues the other as a pleasant person, in order to live with him, while the latter seeks the other at times for his utility. When the love is over, one changes as the other changes. Then they calculate the quid pro quo;86 thus Python and Pammenes quarrelled; and so do teacher and pupil (for knowledge and money have no common measure), and so Herodicus the doctor quarrelled with a patient who paid him only a small fee; such too was the case of the king and the lyre-player; the former regarded his associate as pleasant, the latter his as useful; and so the king, when he had to pay, chose to regard himself as an associate of the pleasant kind, and said that just as the player had given him pleasure by singing, so he had given the player pleasure by his promise. But it is clear here too how one should decide; the measurement must be by one measure, only here not by a term but by a ratio; we must measure by proportion, just as one measures in the associations of citizens. For how is a cobbler to have dealings
86

Reading ti anti tinos for panti tinos.

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with a farmer unless one equates the work of the two by proportion? So to all whose exchanges are not of the same for the same, proportion is the measure, e.g. if the one complains that he has given wisdom, and the other that he has given money, we must measure rst the ratio of wisdom to wealth, and then what has been given for each. For if the one gives half of the lesser, and the other does not give even a small fraction of the greater object, it is clear that the latter does injustice. Here, too, there may be a dispute at the start, if one party pretends they have come together for use, and the other denies this and alleges that they have met from some other kind of friendship. 11 As regards the good man who is loved for his excellence, we must consider whether we ought to render useful services and help to him, or to one who makes a return and has power. This is the same problem as whether we ought rather to benet a friend or a virtuous man. For if the friend is also good, there is perhaps no great difculty, if one does not exaggerate the one quality and minimize the other, making him very much of a friend, but not much of a good man. But in other cases many problems arise, e.g. if the one has been but will no longer remain so, and the other will be but is not yet what he is going to be, or the one was but is not, and the other is but has not been and will not be . . .87 But the other is a harder question. For perhaps Euripides is right in saying, A word is your just pay for a word, but a deed for him who has given deeds.88 And one must not do everything for ones father, but there are some things also one should do for ones mother, though a father is the better of the two. For, indeed, even to Zeus we do not sacrice all things, nor does he have all honours but only some. Perhaps, then, there are things which should be rendered to the useful friend and others to the good one; e.g. because a man gives you food and what is necessary, you need not give him your society; nor, therefore, need you give the man to whom you grant your society that which not he but the useful friend gives. Those who doing this give all to the object of their love, when they ought not, are worthless. And the various denitions of friendship that we give in our discourses all belong to friendship in some sense, but not to the same friendship. To the useful friend applies the fact that one wishes what is good for him, and to a benefactor, and in fact to any kind of friend89 for this denition does not distinguish the class of friendship; to another we should wish existence, of another we should wish the society, to the friend on the basis of pleasure sympathy in joy and grief
87 88

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Susemihl marks a lacuna. Frag. 882 Nauck. 89 Reading hopoio de for hopoios dei.

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is the proper gift. All these denitions are appropriate to some friendship, but none to a single unique thing, friendship. Hence there are many denitions, and each appears to belong to a single thing, viz. friendship, though really it does not, e.g. the purpose to maintain the friends existence. For the superior friend and benefactor wishes90 the existence of that which he has made, and to him who has given one existence one ought to give it in return, but not necessarily ones society; that gift is for the pleasant friend. Some friends wrong one another; they love rather the things than the possessor of them; and so they love the persons much as they choose wine because it is pleasant, or wealth because it is useful; for wealth is more useful than its owner. Therefore he should not be indignant, as if he had preferred his wealth to him as to something inferior. But the other side complain in turn; for they now look to nd in him a good man, when before they looked for one pleasant or useful. 12 We must also consider about independence and friendship, and the relations they have to one another. For one might doubt whether, if a man be in all respects independent, he will have a friend, if one seeks a friend from want and the good man is perfectly independent.91 If the possessor of excellence is happy, why should he need a friend? For the independent man neither needs useful people nor people to cheer him, nor society; his own society is enough for him. This is most plain in the case of a god; for it is clear that, needing nothing, he will not need a friend, nor have one, supposing that he does not need one.92 So that the happiest man will least need a friend, and only as far as it is impossible for him to be independent. Therefore the man who lives the best life must have fewest friends, and they must always be becoming fewer, and he must show no eagerness for men to become his friends, but despise not merely the useful but even men desirable for society. But surely this makes it all the clearer that the friend is not for use or help, but that the friend through excellence93 is the only friend. For when we need nothing, then we all seek others to share our enjoyment, those whom we may benet rather than those who will benet us. And we judge better when independent than when in want, and most of all we then seek friends worthy to be lived with. But as to this problem, we must see if we have not been partially right, and partially missed the truth owing to our illustration. It will be clear if we
Ignoring Susemihls lacuna. Ignoring Susemihls lacuna, placing a comma after touto philos, and putting a full stop after autarkestatos. 92 Reading methenos deomeno for oute methen despotou. 93 Reading ho di areten.
91 90

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ascertain what is life in its active sense and as end. Clearly, it is perception and knowledge, and therefore life in society is perception and knowledge in common. And self-perception and self-knowledge is most desirable to every one, and hence the desire of living is congenital in all; for living must be regarded as a kind of knowledge. If then we were to cut off and abstract mere knowledge and its opposite94 this passes unnoticed in the argument as we have given it, but in fact need not remain unnoticedthere would be no difference between this and anothers knowing instead of oneself; and this is like anothers living instead of oneself. Now naturally the perception and knowledge of oneself is more desirable. For we must take two things into consideration, that life is desirable and also that the good is, and thence that it is desirable that such a nature should belong to oneself95 as belongs to them. If, then, of such a pair of corresponding series there is always one series of the desirable, and the known and the perceived are in general constituted by their participation in the nature of the determined; so that to wish to perceive ones self is to wish oneself to be of a certain denite character,since, then, we are not in ourselves possessed of each of such characters, but only by participation in these qualities in perceiving and knowingfor the perceiver becomes perceived in that way and in that respect in which he rst perceives, and according to the way in which and the object which he perceives; and the knower becomes known in the same waytherefore it is for this reason that one always desires to live, because one always desires to know; and this is because he himself wishes to be the object known. The choice to live with others might seem, from a certain point of view, silly(rst, in the case of things common also to the other animals, e.g. eating together, drinking together; for what is the difference between doing these things in the neighbourhood of others or apart from them, if you take away speech? But even to share in speech of a casual kind does not make the case different. Further, for friends who are self-dependent neither teaching nor learning is possible; for if one learns, he is not as he should be: and if he teaches, his friend is not; and likeness is friendship)but surely it is obviously so, and all of us nd greater pleasure in sharing good things with friends as far as these come to eachI mean the greatest good one can share; but to some it falls to share in bodily delights, to others in artistic contemplation, to others in philosophy. And the friend must be present too; whence the proverb, distant friends are a burden, so that men must not be at a distance from one another when there is friendship between them. Hence sensuous love seems like friendship; for the lover aims at
94 95

Ignoring Susemihls lacuna. Reading autois for auto tois.

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the society of his beloved, but not as ideally he ought, but in a merely sensuous way. The argument, then, says what we have before mentioned, raising difculties; but the facts are as we saw later, so that it is clear that the objector is in a way misleading us. We must see the truth from what follows: a friend wants to be, in the words of the proverb, another Heracles, a second self; but he is severed from his friend, and it is hard to nd in two people the characteristics of a single individual. But though a friend is by nature what is most akin to his friend, one man is like another in body, and another like him in soul, and one like him in one part of the body or soul, and another like him in another. But none the less does a friend wish to be as it were a separate self. Therefore, to perceive a friend must be in a way to perceive ones self and to know a friend to know ones self. So that even the vulgar forms of pleasure and life in the society of a friend are naturally pleasant (for perception of the friend always takes place at the same time), but still more the communion in the diviner pleasures. And the reason is, that it is always pleasanter to see ones self enjoying the superior good. And this is sometimes a passion, sometimes an action, sometimes something else. But if it is pleasant for a man himself to live well and also his friend, and in their common life to engage in mutually helpful activity, their partnership surely would be above all in things included in the end. Therefore, men should contemplate in common and feast in common, only not on the pleasures of food or on necessary pleasures; such society does not96 seem to be true society, but sensuous enjoyment. But the end which each can attain is that in which he desires the society of another; if that is not possible, men desire to benet and be beneted by friends in preference to others. Thus it is clear that friends ought to live together, that all wish this above all things, and that the happiest and best man tends especially to do so. But that the contrary appeared as the conclusion of the argument was also reasonable, since the argument said what was true. For it is because of the comparison of the two cases that the solution is not found, the case compared being in itself truly enough stated. For because a god is not such as to need a friend, we claim the same of the man who resembles a god. But by this reasoning the virtuous man will not even think; for the perfection of a god is not in this, but in being superior to thinking of anything beside himself. The reason is, that with us welfare involves a something beyond us, but the deity is his own well-being. As to our seeking and praying for many friends, while we say that the man who has many friends has no friend, both are correct. For if it is possible to live with
96

Reading toiautai gar ouch omiliai.

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and share the perceptions of many at the same time, it is most desirable that these should be as numerous as possible; but since this is most difcult, the activity of joint perception must exist among fewer. So that it is not only hard to get many friendsfor testing is necessarybut also to use them when you have got them. Sometimes we wish the object of our love to be happy away from us, sometimes to share the same fortune as ourselves; the wish to be together is characteristic of friendship. For if the two can both be together and be happy, all choose this; but if they cannot be both, then we choose as the mother of Heracles might have chosen, i.e. that her son should be a god rather than in her company but a serf to Eurystheus. One might say something like the jesting remark of the Laconian, when some one bade him in a storm to summon the Dioscuri. It appears to be the mark of one who loves to keep the object of his love from sharing in hardships, but of the beloved to wish to share them; the conduct of both is reasonable. For nothing ought to be so painful to a friend as not to see his friend, but it is thought that he ought not to choose what is for his own interest. Therefore men keep their friends from participation in their calamities; their own suffering is enough, that they may not show themselves studying their own interest, and choosing joy at the cost of a friends pain, . . .97 again, being relieved by not bearing their troubles alone. But since both well-being and participation are desirable, it is clear that participation with a smaller good is more desirable than to enjoy a greater good in solitude. But since the weight to be attached to participation is not ascertained, men differ, and some think that participation in all things at once is the mark of friendship, e.g. they say that it is better to dine together than separately, though having the same food; yet others would not wish it. And since if one takes extreme cases . . . they agree that they suffer great adversity together or great good fortune apart . . .98 We have something similar in the case of ill-fortune. For sometimes we wish our friends to be absent and we wish to give them no pain, when they are not going to be of any use to us; at another time we nd it pleasantest for them to be present. But this contradiction is quite reasonable. For this happens in consequence of what we have mentioned above, and because we often simply avoid the sight of a friend in pain or in bad condition, as we should the sight of ourselves so placed; yet to see a friend is as pleasant as anything can be (because of the above-mentioned cause), and to see him not ill if you are ill yourself. So that whichever of these two is the pleasanter decides us whether to wish the friend present or not. This also happens, for the
97 98

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Susemihl marks a lacuna. Susemihl marks two lacunae.

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same reason, in the case of the worse sort of men; for they are most anxious that their friends should not fare well nor even exist if they themselves have to fare badly.99 Therefore some kill the objects of their love with themselves. For they think that if the objects of their love are to survive they would perceive their own trouble more acutely, just as one who remembered that once he had been happy would feel it more than if he thought himself to be always unhappy . . .100
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13 101 Here one might raise a question. One can use each thing both for its natural purpose and otherwise, and either per se or again per accidens, as, for instance, one might use the eye for seeing, and also for falsely seeing by squinting, so that one thing appears as two. Both these uses are due to the eye being an eye, but it was possible to use the eye in another wayper accidens, e.g. if one could sell or eat it.102 Knowledge may be used similarly; it is possible to use it truly or to do what is wrong, e.g. when a man voluntarily writes incorrectly, thus using knowledge as ignorance, like a person using his hand as a footdancinggirls sometimes use the foot as a hand and the hand as a foot. If, then, all the excellences are kinds of knowledge, one might use justice also as injustice, and so one would be unjust and do unjust actions from justice, as ignorant things may be done from knowledge. But if this is impossible, it is clear that the excellences are not species of knowledge. And even if ignorance cannot proceed from knowledge, but only error and the doing of the same things as proceed from ignorance, it must be remembered that from justice one will not act as from injustice. But since practical wisdom is knowledge and something true, it may behave like knowledge; one might act foolishly though possessed of wisdom, and commit the errors of the foolish. But if the use of each thing as such were single, then in so acting men would still be acting wisely. Over other kinds of knowledge, then, there is something superior that diverts them; but how can there be any knowledge that diverts the highest knowledge of all? There is no longer any knowledge to do this. But neither can excellence do it, for wisdom uses that; for the excellence of the ruling part uses that of the subject. Then what will it be? Perhaps the position is like that of incontinence, which is said to be a vice of the irrational part of the soul, and the incontinent man who has reason but is intemperate. But if so, supposing appetite to be strong it will twist him and he will draw the opposite
Reading an anagke for anagkai. Susemihl marks a lacuna. 101 Susemihl begins a new book here, so that VII 13-15 become VIII 1-3. 102 The text is uncertain.
100 99

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conclusion. Or is it obvious103 that if there is excellence in the irrational part, but ignorance in the rational, they are transformed? Thus it will be possible to use justice unjustly104 and badly, and wisdom foolishlyand therefore the opposite uses will also be possible. For it is absurd that vice occurring sometimes in the irrational part should twist the excellence in the rational part and make the man ignorant, but that excellence in the irrational part, when ignorance is present in the rational, should not divert the latter and make the man judge wisely and as is right, and again, wisdom in the rational part should not make the intemperance in the irrational part act temperately. This seems the very essence of continence. And therefore we shall also get wise action arising out of ignorance. But all these consequences are absurd, especially that of acting wisely out of ignorance, for we certainly do not see this in any other case, e.g. intemperance does not pervert ones medical or grammatical knowledge. But at any rate we may say that not105 ignorance, if opposite, (for it has no superiority), but excellence is rather related in this way to vice in general. For whatever the just man can do, the unjust can do; and in general powerlessness is covered by power. And so it is clear that wisdom and excellence go together, and that those are states of someone else,106 and the Socratic saying that nothing is stronger than wisdom is right. But when Socrates said this of knowledge he was wrong. For wisdom is an excellence and not a species of knowledge, but another kind of cognition. . . .107 14 But since not only wisdom and excellence produce well-doing, but we say also that the fortunate do well, thus assuming that good fortune produces well-doing and the same results as knowledge, we must inquire whether it is or is not by nature that one man is fortunate, another not, and what is the truth about these things. For that there are fortunate men we see, who though foolish are often successful in matters controlled by fortune. Again, in matters involving art, chance too largely enters, e.g. strategy and navigation. Does their success, then, arise from some mental condition, or do they effect fortunate results not because of their own qualities at all (at present men take the latter view, regarding them as having some special natural endowment); does nature, rather, make men with different qualities so that they differ from birth; as some are blue-eyed and some
103

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Reading e esti delon for he**sphi**delon. Reading t ou for to. 105 Reading ou for ho. 106 Reading agathoi, ekeinai d allou. 107 Susemihl marks a lacuna.
104

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black-eyed because they have some particular part of a particular nature,108 so are some lucky and others unlucky? For that they do not succeed through wisdom is clear, for wisdom is not irrational but can give a reason why it acts as it does; but they could not say why they succeed; that would be art. Further, it is clear that they succeed though foolish, and not about other thingsthat would not be strange at all, e.g. Hippocrates was a geometer, but in other respects was thought silly and foolish, and once on a voyage was robbed of much money by the customscollectors at Byzantium, owing to his silliness, as we are toldbut foolish in the very business in which they are lucky. For in navigation not the cleverest are the most fortunate, but it is as in throwing dice, where one throws nothing, another throws a high score, according to his natural luck. Or is it because he is loved, as the phrase is, by a god, success being something coming from without, as a worse-built vessel often sails better, not owing to itself but because it has a good pilot? So, the fortunate man has a good pilot, namely, the divinity. But it is absurd that a god or divinity should love such a man and not the best and most wise of men. If, then, success must be due either to nature or intelligence or some sort of protection, and the latter two causes are out of the question, then the fortunate must be so by nature. But, on the other hand, nature is the cause of what is always or for the most part so, fortune the opposite. If, then, it is thought that unexpected success is due to chance, but that, if it is through chance that one is fortunate, the cause of his fortune is not the sort of cause that produces always or usually the same resultfurther, if a person succeeds or fails because he is a certain sort of man, just as a man sees badly because he is blue-eyed, then it follows that not fortune but nature is the cause; the man then is not fortunate but rather naturally gifted. So we must say that the people we call fortunate are not so through fortune; therefore they are not fortunate, for those goods only are in the disposal of fortune of which good fortune is the cause. But if this is so, shall we say that fortune does not exist at all, or that it exists but is not a cause? No, it must both exist and be a cause. It will, then, also cause good or evil to certain people. But whether it is to be wholly removed, and we ought to say that nothing happens by chance, but do say that chance is a cause simply because, though there is some other cause, we do not see it (and therefore, in dening chance, some make it a cause incalculable to human reasoning, taking it to be a genuine reality)this would be matter for another inquiry. But since we see people who are fortunate once only, why should they not be fortunate a second time? Because they succeed once, they do so again. The cause is the same.
108

Reading to todi toiondi echein.

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Then this cannot be a matter of chance. But when the same event follows from indenite and undetermined antecedents, it will be good or evil, but there will not be the science that comes by experience of it, since otherwise some would have learned to be lucky, or evenas Socrates saidall the sciences would have been kinds of good luck. What, then, prevents such things happening to a man often in succession, not because they should, but as, say, dice might continually throw a lucky number? But again, are there not in the soul impulses, some from reason and others from irrational desire, the latter being the earlier? For if the desire arising from appetite for the pleasant is natural, everything would by nature march towards the good. If, then, some have a natural endowmentas musical109 people, though they have not learned to sing, are fortunately endowed in this wayand move without reason in the direction110 given them by their nature, and desire that which they ought at the time and in the manner they ought, such men are successful, even if they are foolish and irrational, just as the others will sing111 well though not able to teach singing. And such men are fortunate, namely those who generally succeed without the aid of reason. Men, then, who are fortunate will be so by nature. Perhaps, however, good fortune is a phrase with several senses. For some things are done from impulse and are due to choice, and others not, but the opposite; and if, in the former cases, they succeed where they seem to have reasoned badly, we say that they have been lucky; and again, in the latter cases, if they wished for a different good than they got.112 Men who are lucky in the former way, then, may be fortunate by nature, for the impulse and the desire was for the right object and succeeded, but the reasoning was silly; and people in this case, when it happens that their reasoning seems incorrect but desire is the cause of their reasoning, are saved by the rightness of their desire;113 but on another occasion a man reasons again in this way owing to appetite and turns out unfortunate. But in the other cases how can the good luck be due to a natural goodness in desire and appetite? But surely the good fortune and chance spoken of here and in the other case are the same, or else there is more than one sort of good fortune, and chance is of two kinds.114 But since we see some men lucky contrary to all knowledge and right reasonings, it is clear that the cause of luck must be some109 110

1248b7-1978

Reading odikoi for adikoi. Reading he he physis. 111 Reading asontai for esontai. 112 Reading eboulonto allo e elabon. 113 Reading tyche, he d autou aitia ousa, aute. 114 Placing kai tyche ditte after eutychiai.

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thing different from these. But is it luck or not by which115 a man desires what and when he ought, though for him116 human reasoning could not lead to this? For that is not altogether unreasonable, nor is the desire natural, though it is misled by something. The man, then, is thought to have good luck, because luck is the cause of things contrary to reason, and this is contrary to reason (for it is contrary to knowledge and the universal). But probably it does not spring from chance, but seems so for the above reason. So that this argument shows not that good luck is due to nature, but that not all who seem to be lucky are successful owing to chance, but rather owing to nature; nor does it show that fortune is not the cause of anything, but only not of all that it seems to be the cause of. This, however, one might question: whether fortune is the cause of just this, viz. desiring what and when one ought. But will it not in this case be the cause of everything, even of thought and deliberation? For one does not deliberate after previous deliberation which itself presupposed deliberation, but there is some starting-point; nor does one think after thinking previously to thinking, and so ad innitum. Thought, then, is not the starting-point of thinking nor deliberation of deliberation. What, then, can be the starting-point except chance? Thus everything would come from chance. Perhaps there is a starting-point with none other outside it, and this can act in this sort of way by being such as it is. The object of our search is this what is the commencement of movement in the soul? The answer is clear: as in the universe, so in the soul, it is god. For in a sense the divine element in us moves everything. The starting-point of reasoning is not reasoning, but something greater. What, then, could be greater even than knowledge and intellect but god? For excellence is an instrument of the intellect. And for this reason, as I said a while ago,117 those are called fortunate who, whatever they start on,118 succeed in it without being good at reasoning. And deliberation is of no advantage to them, for they have in them a principle that is better than intellect and deliberation, while the others have not this but have intellect; they have inspiration, but they cannot deliberate. For, though lacking reason, they succeed, and like the prudent and wise, their divination is speedy; and we must mark off as included in it all but the judgement that comes from reasoning;119 in some cases it is due to experience, in others to habituation in the use of reection; and both experience and habituation
115

Reading he for he. Reading ho for **to. 117 Omitting oi. 118 Reading oi oi. 119 Text uncertain.
116

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book VII

73

use god. This quality sees well the future and the present, and these120 are the men in whom the reasoning-power is relaxed. Hence we have the melancholic men, the dreamers of what is true. For the moving principle seems to become stronger when the reasoning-power is relaxed. So the blind remember better, being freed from concern with the visible, since their memory is stronger. It is clear, then, that there are two kinds of good luck, the one divineand so the lucky seem to succeed owing to god, the other natural. Men of this sort seem to succeed in following their impulse, the others to succeed contrary to their impulse; both are irrational, but the one is persistent good luck, the other not. 15 About each excellence by itself we have already spoken; now since we have distinguished their natures separately, we must describe clearly the excellence that arises out of the combination of them, what we have already called nobility-and-goodness. That he who truly deserves this denomination must have the separate excellences is clear; it cannot be otherwise with other things either, for no one is healthy in his entire body and yet healthy in no part of it, but the most numerous and important parts, if not all, must be in the same condition as the whole. Now goodness and nobility-and-goodness differ not only in name but also in themselves. For all goods have ends which are to be chosen for their own sake. Of these, we call noble those which, existing all of them for their own sake, are praised. For these are those which are the source of praised acts and are themselves praised, such as justice itself and just acts; also temperate acts,121 for temperance is praised, but health is not praised, for its effect is not; nor vigorous action, for vigour is not. These are good but not praised. Induction makes this clear about the rest, too. A good man, then, is one for whom the natural goods are good. For the goods men ght for and think the greatesthonour, wealth, bodily excellences, good fortune, and powerare naturally good, but may be to some hurtful because of their dispositions. For neither the foolish nor the unjust nor the intemperate would get any good from the employment of them, any more than an invalid from the food of a healthy man, or one weak and maimed from the equipment of one in health and sound in all limbs. A man is noble and good because those goods which are noble are possessed by him for themselves, and because he practises the noble and for its own sake, the noble being the excellences and the acts that proceed from excellence. There is also the civic disposition, such as the Laconians have, and others like them might have; its nature would be something like thisthere are some who think one should have excellence but
120 121

1248b8-1249a16

Reading outoi for outos. Reading ai sophrones.

74

Aristotle

1249a17-1249a20

1249a21-1249b23

only for the sake of the natural goods, and so such men are good (for the natural goods are good for them), but they have not nobility and goodness. For it is not true of them that they acquire the noble for itself, that they choose acts good and noble at once122 more than this, that what is not noble by nature but good by nature is noble to them; for objects are noble when a mans motives for acting and choosing them are noble, because to the noble and good man the naturally good is noblefor what is just is noble, justice is proportion to merit, and he merits these things; or what is tting is noble, and to him these thingswealth, high birth, and powerare tting. So that the noble and good man things protable are also noble; but to the many the protable and the noble do not coincide, for things absolutely good are not good for them as they are for the good man; to the noble and good man they are also noble, for he does many noble deeds by reason of them.123 But the man who thinks he ought to have the excellences for the sake of external goods does deeds that are noble only per accidens. Nobility and goodness, then, is perfect excellence. About pleasure, too, we have spoken, what it is and in what sense good; we have said that the absolutely pleasant is also noble, and the absolutely good pleasant. But pleasure only arises in action; therefore the truly happy man will also live most pleasantly: that this should be so is no idle demand of man. But since the doctor has a standard by reference to which he distinguishes what is healthy for the body from what is not, and with reference to which each thing up to a certain point ought to be done and is healthy,124 while if less or more is done health is the result no longer, so in regard to actions and choice of what is naturally good but not praiseworthy, the good man should have a standard both of disposition and of choice and avoidance with regard to excess or deciency of wealth and good fortune, the standard beingas above saidas reason directs; this corresponds to saying in regard to diet that the standard should be as medical science and its reason direct. But this, though true, is not illuminating. One must, then, here as elsewhere, live with reference to the ruling principle and with reference to the formed habit and125 the activity of the ruling principle, as the slave must live with reference to that of the master, and each of us by the rule proper to him. But since man is by nature composed of a ruling and a subject part, each of us should live according to the governing element within himselfbut this is ambiguous, for medical science governs in one sense, health in another,
122 123

Reading kala kagatha for kaloi kagathoi. Reading di auta. 124 Reading hygieinon for eu hygiainon. 125 Reading kai for kata.

EUDEMIAN ETHICS: Book VII

75

the former existing for the latter. And so it is with the theoretic faculty; for god is not an imperative ruler, but is the end with a view to which wisdom issues its commands (the word end is ambiguous, and has been distinguished elsewhere), for god needs nothing. What choice, then, or possession of the natural goods whether bodily goods, wealth, friends, or other thingswill most produce the contemplation of god, that choice or possession is best; this is the noblest standard, but any that through deciency or excess hinders one from the contemplation and service of god is bad; this a man possesses in his soul, and this is the best standard for the soulto perceive the irrational part of the soul, as such, as little as possible. So much, then, for the standard of nobility and goodness and the object of the absolute goods.

1249b24-1249b25

ON VIRTUES AND VICES

Aristotle

The Complete Works of Aristotle

Electronic markup by Jamie L. Spriggs InteLex Corporation P.O. Box 859, Charlottesville, Virginia, 22902-0859, USA Available via ftp or on Macintosh or DOS CD-ROM from the publisher.

Complete Works (Aristotle). Jonathan Barnes, Princeton University Press, Princeton, N.J. 1991.

These texts are part of the Past Masters series. This series is an attempt to collect the most important texts in the history of philosophy, both in original language and English translation (if the original language is other English). All Greek has been transliterated and is delimited with the term tag.

May 1996 Jamie L. Spriggs, InteLex Corp. publisher Converted from Folio Flat File to TEI.2-compatible SGML; checked against print text; parsed against local teilite dtd.

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ARISTOTLE THE REVISED OXFORD TRANSLATION Edited by JONATHAN BARNES VOLUME TWO BOLLINGEN SERIES LXXI 2 PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS Copyright 1984 by The Jowett Copyright Trustees Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William St., Princeton, New Jersey In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, Oxford No part of this electronic edition may be printed without written permission from The Jowett Copyright Trustees and Princeton University Press. All Rights Reserved THIS IS PART TWO OF THE SEVENTY-FIRST IN A SERIES OF WORKS SPONSORED BY BOLLINGEN FOUNDATION Printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey Second Printing, 1985 Fourth Printing, 1991 987654

Contents
Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . Acknowledgements . . . . . . Note to the Reader . . . . . . ON VIRTUES AND VICES** . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii v vi 2

PREFACE
BENJAMIN JOWETT1 published his translation of Aristotles Politics in 1885, and he nursed the desire to see the whole of Aristotle done into English. In his will he left the perpetual copyright on his writings to Balliol College, desiring that any royalties should be invested and that the income from the investment should be applied in the rst place to the improvement or correction of his own books, and secondly to the making of New Translations or Editions of Greek Authors. In a codicil to the will, appended less than a month before his death, he expressed the hope that the translation of Aristotle may be nished as soon as possible. The Governing Body of Balliol duly acted on Jowetts wish: J. A. Smith, then a Fellow of Balliol and later Waynete Professor of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, and W. D. Ross, a Fellow of Oriel College, were appointed as general editors to supervise the project of translating all of Aristotles writings into English; and the College came to an agreement with the Delegates of the Clarendon Press for the publication of the work. The rst volume of what came to be known as The Oxford Translation of Aristotle appeared in 1908. The work continued under the joint guidance of Smith and Ross, and later under Rosss sole editorship. By 1930, with the publication of the eleventh volume, the whole of the standard corpus aristotelicum had been put into English. In 1954 Ross added a twelfth volume, of selected fragments, and thus completed the task begun almost half a century earlier. The translators whom Smith and Ross collected together included the most eminent English Aristotelians of the age; and the translations reached a remarkable standard of scholarship and delity to the text. But no translation is perfect, and all translations date: in 1976, the Jowett Trustees, in whom the copyright of the Translation lies, determined to commission a revision of the entire text. The Oxford Translation was to remain in substance its original self; but alterations were to be made, where advisable, in the light of recent scholarship and with the requirements of modern readers in mind. The present volumes thus contain a revised Oxford Translation: in all but three treatises, the original versions have been conserved with only mild emendations.
The text of Aristotle: The Complete Works is The Revised Oxford Translation of The Complete Works of Aristotle, edited by Jonathan Barnes, and published by Princeton University Press in 1984. Each reference line contains the approximate Bekker number range of the paragraph if the work in question was included in the Bekker edition.
1

PREFACE

iii

(The three exceptions are the Categories and de Interpretatione, where the translations of J. L. Ackrill have been substituted for those of E. M. Edgehill, and the Posterior Analytics, where G. R. G. Mures version has been replaced by that of J. Barnes. The new translations have all been previously published in the Clarendon Aristotle series.) In addition, the new Translation contains the tenth book of the History of Animals, and the third book of the Economics, which were not done for the original Translation; and the present selection from the fragments of Aristotles lost works includes a large number of passages which Ross did not translate. In the original Translation, the amount and scope of annotation differed greatly from one volume to the next: some treatises carried virtually no footnotes, others (notably the biological writings) contained almost as much scholarly commentary as textthe work of Ogle on the Parts of Animals or of dArcy Thompson on the History of Animals, Beares notes to On Memory or Joachims to On Indivisible Lines, were major contributions to Aristotelian scholarship. Economy has demanded that in the revised Translation annotation be kept to a minimum; and all the learned notes of the original version have been omitted. While that omission represents a considerable impoverishment, it has reduced the work to a more manageable bulk, and at the same time it has given the constituent translations a greater uniformity of character. It might be added that the revision is thus closer to Jowetts own intentions than was the original Translation. The revisions have been slight, more abundant in some treatises than in others but amounting, on the average, to some fty alterations for each Bekker page of Greek. Those alterations can be roughly classied under four heads. (i) A quantity of work has been done on the Greek text of Aristotle during the past half century: in many cases new and better texts are now available, and the reviser has from time to time emended the original Translation in the light of this research. (But he cannot claim to have made himself intimate with all the textual studies that recent scholarship has thrown up.) A standard text has been taken for each treatise, and the few departures from it, where they affect the sense, have been indicated in footnotes. On the whole, the reviser has been conservative, sometimes against his inclination. (ii) There are occasional errors or infelicities of translation in the original version: these have been corrected insofar as they have been observed. (iii) The English of the original Translation now seems in some respects archaic in its vocabulary and in its syntax: no attempt has been made to impose a consistently modern style upon the translations, but where archaic English might mislead the modern reader, it has been replaced by more current idiom.

iv

Aristotle

(iv) The fourth class of alterations accounts for the majority of changes made by the reviser. The original Translation is often paraphrastic: some of the translators used paraphrase freely and deliberately, attempting not so much to English Aristotles Greek as to explain in their own words what he was intending to conveythus translation turns by slow degrees into exegesis. Others construed their task more narrowly, but even in their more modest versions expansive paraphrase from time to time intrudes. The revision does not pretend to eliminate paraphrase altogether (sometimes paraphrase is venial; nor is there any precise boundary between translation and paraphrase); but it does endeavor, especially in the logical and philosophical parts of the corpus, to replace the more blatantly exegetical passages of the original by something a little closer to Aristotles text. The general editors of the original Translation did not require from their translators any uniformity in the rendering of technical and semitechnical terms. Indeed, the translators themselves did not always strive for uniformity within a single treatise or a single book. Such uniformity is surely desirable; but to introduce it would have been a massive task, beyond the scope of this revision. Some effort has, however, been made to remove certain of the more capricious variations of translation (especially in the more philosophical of Aristotles treatises). Nor did the original translators try to mirror in their English style the style of Aristotles Greek. For the most part, Aristotle is terse, compact, abrupt, his arguments condensed, his thought dense. For the most part, the Translation is owing and expansive, set out in well-rounded periods and expressed in a language which is usually literary and sometimes orotund. To that extent the Translation produces a false impression of what it is like to read Aristotle in the original; and indeed it is very likely to give a misleading idea of the nature of Aristotles philosophizing, making it seem more polished and nished than it actually is. In the revisers opinion, Aristotles sinewy Greek is best translated into correspondingly tough English; but to achieve that would demand a new translation, not a revision. No serious attempt has been made to alter the style of the originala style which, it should be said, is in itself elegant enough and pleasing to read. The reviser has been aided by several friends; and he would like to acknowledge in particular the help of Mr. Gavin Lawrence and Mr. Donald Russell. He remains acutely conscious of the numerous imperfections that are left. Yetas Aristotle himself would have put itthe work was laborious, and the reader must forgive the reviser for his errors and give him thanks for any improvements which he may chance to have effected. March 1981 J. B.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE TRANSLATIONS of the Categories and the de Interpretatione are reprinted here by permission of Professor J. L. Ackrill and Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1963); the translation of the Posterior Analytics is reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1975); the translation of the third book of the Economics is reprinted by permission of The Loeb Classical Library (William Heinemann and Harvard University Press); the translation of the fragments of the Protrepticus is based, with the authors generous permission, on the version by Professor Ingemar D uring.

NOTE TO THE READER

THE TRADITIONAL corpus aristotelicum contains several works which were certainly or probably not written by Aristotle. A single asterisk against the title of a work indicates that its authenticity has been seriously doubted; a pair of asterisks indicates that its spuriousness has never been seriously contested. These asterisks appear both in the Table of Contents and on the title pages of the individual works concerned. The title page of each work contains a reference to the edition of the Greek text against which the translation has been checked. References are by editors name, series or publisher (OCT stands for Oxford Classical Texts), and place and date of publication. In those places where the translation deviates from the chosen text and prefers a different reading in the Greek, a footnote marks the fact and indicates which reading is preferred; such places are rare. The numerals printed in the outer margins key the translation to Immanuel Bekkers standard edition of the Greek text of Aristotle of 1831. References consist of a page number, a column letter, and a line number. Thus 1343a marks column one of page 1343 of Bekkers edition; and the following 5, 10, 15, etc. stand against lines 5, 10, 15, etc. of that column of text. Bekker references of this type are found in most editions of Aristotles works, and they are used by all scholars who write about Aristotle.

ON VIRTUES AND VICES**

ON VIRTUES AND VICES**

Translated by J. Solomon2
1249a25-1249a30

1249a31-1250a3

1 The noble is the object of praise, the base of blame: at the head of what is noble stand the excellences, at the head of what is base the vices; the excellences, then, are objects of praise, but so also are the causes of the excellences and their accompaniments and results, the opposites are objects of blame. If in agreement with Plato we take the soul to have three parts, then wisdom is the excellence of the rational, gentleness and bravery of the passionate, temperance and continence of the appetitive; and of the soul as a whole, justice, liberality, and magnanimity. Folly is the vice of the rational, irascibility and cowardice of the passionate, intemperance and incontinence of the appetitive; and of the soul as a whole, injustice, illiberality, and small-mindedness. 2 Wisdom is an excellence of the rational part capable of procuring all that tends to happiness. Gentleness is an excellence of the passionate part, through which men become difcult to stir to anger. Bravery is an excellence of the passionate part, through which men are difcult to scare by apprehension of death. Temperance is an excellence of the appetitive part, by which men cease to desire bad sensual pleasures. Continence is an excellence of the appetitive part, by which men check by thinking the appetite that rushes to bad pleasures. Justice is an excellence of the soul that distributes to each according to his desert. Liberality is an excellence of the soul ready to spend on noble objects. Magnanimity is an excellence of the soul, by which men are able to bear good and bad fortune, honour and dishonour. 3 Folly is a vice of the rational part, causing evil living. Irascibility is a vice
2

1250a4-1250a16

1250a17-1250a29

TEXT: F. Susemihl, Teubner, Leipzig, 1884

ON VIRTUES AND VICES

of the passionate part, through which men are easily stirred to anger. Cowardice is a vice of the passionate part, through which men are scared by apprehensions, especially such as relate to death. Intemperance is a vice of the appetitive part, by which men become desirous of bad sensual pleasures. Incontinence is a vice of the appetitive part, through which one chooses bad pleasures, though reason opposes this. Injustice is a vice of the soul, through which men become covetous of more than they deserve. Illiberality is a vice of the soul, through which men aim at gain from every source. Small-mindedness is a vice of the soul, which makes men unable to bear alike good and bad fortune, alike honour and dishonour. 4 To wisdom belongs right deliberation, right judgement as to what is good and bad and all in life that is to be chosen and avoided, noble use of all the goods that belong to us, correctness in social intercourse, the grasping of the right moment, the sagacious use of word and deed, the possession of experience of all that is useful. Memory, experience, tact, good judgement, sagacityeach of these either arises from wisdom or accompanies it. Or possibly some of them are, as it were, subsidiary causes of wisdom (such as experience and memory), while others are, as it were, parts of it, e.g. good judgement and sagacity. To gentleness belongs the power to bear with moderation accusations and3 slights, not to rush hastily to vengeance, not to be easily stirred to anger, to be without bitterness or contentiousness in ones character, to have in ones soul quietude and steadfastness. To bravery belongs slowness to be scared by apprehensions of death, to be of good courage in dangers and bold in facing risks, and to choose a noble death rather than preservation in some base way, and to be the cause of victory. Also it belongs to bravery to labour, to endure, and to play the man. And there accompanies it readiness to dare, high spirits, and condence; and further, fondness for toil and endurance. To temperance belongs absence of admiration for the enjoyment of bodily pleasures, absence of desire for all base sensual enjoyment, fear of ill-repute, an ordered course of life, alike in small things and in great. And temperance is accompanied by discipline, orderliness, shame, caution. 5 To continence belongs the power to restrain by reason the appetite when it rushes to base enjoyment of pleasures, endurance, steadfastness under natural want and pain. To justice belongs the capacity to distribute to each his deserts, to preserve
3

1250a30-1250a39

1250a40-1250a43

1250a44-1250b7

1250b8-1250b11

1250b12-1250b15

1250b16-1250b24

Omitting metrias.

Aristotle

1250b25-1250b34

1250b35-1250b42

ancestral customs and laws and also the written law, to be truthful in matters of importance, to observe ones agreements. First among acts of justice come those towards the gods, then those to deied spirits, then those towards ones country and parents, then those towards the departed: amongst these comes piety, which is either a part of justice or an accompaniment of it. Also justice is accompanied by purity, truth, trust, and hatred of wickedness. To liberality it belongs to be profuse of money on praiseworthy objects, to be generous in spending on a proper purpose, to be helpful and kind in disputed matters,4 and not to take from improper sources. The liberal man is also clean in his dress and house, ready to provide himself with what is not strictly necessary but beautiful and enjoyable without prot, inclined to keep all animals that have anything peculiar or marvellous about them. Liberality is accompanied by a suppleness and ductility of disposition, by kindness, by pitifulness, by love for friends, for strangers, for what is noble. It belongs to magnanimity to bear nobly good and bad fortune, honour and dishonour; not to admire luxury or attention or power or victory in contests, but to have a sort of depth and greatness of soul. The magnanimous is one who neither values living highly nor is fond of life, but is in disposition simple and noble, one who can be injured and is not prompt to avenge himself. The accompaniments of magnanimity are simpleness, nobleness, and truth. 6 To folly it belongs to judge things badly, to deliberate badly, to be bad in social intercourse, to use badly present goods, to think erroneously about what is good and noble as regards life. Folly is accompanied by ignorance, inexperience, incontinence, tactlessness, shortness of memory. Of irascibility there are three speciespromptness to anger, peevishness, sullenness. It is the mark of the irascible man to be unable to bear small slights or defeats, to be ready to punish, prompt at revenge, easily moved to anger by any chance word or deed. The accompaniments of irascibility are a disposition easily excited, ready changes of feeling, attention to small matters, vexation at small things, and all these rapid and on slight occasion. To cowardice it belongs to be easily moved by chance fears, especially if relating to death or maiming of the body, and to suppose preservation in any manner to be better than a noble death. Its accompaniments are softness, unmanliness, despair, love of life. Beneath it, however, is a sort of caution of disposition and slowness to quarrel. To intemperance it belongs to choose the enjoyments of hurtful and base plea4

1250b43-1251a3

1251a4-1251a10

1251a11-1251a17

1251a18-1251a23

Omitting Susemihls kai philanthropon.

ON VIRTUES AND VICES

sures, to suppose that those living in such pleasures are in the highest sense happy, to love laughter, jeering, wit, and levity in word and deed. Its accompaniments are indiscipline, shamelessness, disorder, luxury, ease, negligence, contempt, dissipation. To incontinence it belongs to choose the enjoyment of pleasures though reason forbids, to partake of them none the less though believing it to be better not to partake of them, and while thinking one ought to do what is noble and profitable still to abstain from these for the sake of pleasures. The accompaniments of incontinence are effeminacy, negligence, and generally the same as those of intemperance. 7 Of injustice there are three speciesimpiety, greed, outrage. Impiety is wrong-doing towards gods, deied spirits, the departed, ones parents, and ones country. Greed is wrong-doing in regard to agreements, claiming a share of the object in dispute beyond ones deserts. Outrage occurs when in providing pleasure for oneself one brings shame on others, whence Evenus says of it: That which while gaining nothing still wrongs another. It belongs to injustice to violate ancestral customs and laws, to disobey enactments and rulers, to lie, to commit perjury, to violate agreements and pledges. The accompaniments of injustice are quibbling, boasting, unsociability, pretence, malignity, unscrupulousness. Of illiberality there are three species, pursuit of disgraceful gain, parsimony, stinginess: pursuit of disgraceful gain, in so far as such men seek gain from all sources and think more of the prot than of the shame; parsimony, in so far as they are unready to spend money on a suitable purpose; stinginess, in so far as, while spending, they spend in small sums and badly, and are more hurt than profited from not spending in season. It belongs to illiberality to value money above everything, and to think no reproach can ever attach to what yields a prot. The life of the illiberal man is servile, suited to a slave, and sordid, remote from ambition and liberality. The accompaniments of illiberality are pettiness, sullenness, small-mindedness, self-humiliation, lack of measure, ignobility, misanthropy. It belongs to small-mindedness to be able to bear neither honour nor dishonour, neither good nor ill fortune, but to grow braggart when honoured, to be elated at small prosperities, to be unable to bear even the smallest deprivation of honour, to regard any ill-success whatever as a great misfortune, to complain and to be impatient over everything. Further, the small-minded man is such as to call every slight an outrage and a dishonour, even such as are inicted through ignorance or forgetfulness. The accompaniments of small-mindedness are pettiness, grumbling, hopelessness, self-humiliation.

1251a24-1251a29

1251a30-1251b3

1251b4-1251b16

1251b17-1251b26

6
1251b27-1251b38

Aristotle

8 In general it belongs to excellence to make the condition of the soul good, using quiet and ordered motions and in agreement with itself throughout all its parts: whence the condition of a good soul seems a pattern of a good political constitution. It belongs also to excellence to do good to the worthy, to love the good; not to be prompt either to chastise or seek vengeance, but to be complaisant, kindly, and forgiving. Its accompaniments are worth, equity, indulgence, good hope, and further all such qualities as love of home, love of friends, love of comrades, love of strangers, love of men, love of the noble: all these qualities are among the laudable. The marks of vice are the opposites, and its accompaniments the opposites; and all these marks and accompaniments of vice belong to the class of the blameable.

POLITICS
Aristotle

The Complete Works of Aristotle

Electronic markup by Jamie L. Spriggs InteLex Corporation P.O. Box 859, Charlottesville, Virginia, 22902-0859, USA Available via ftp or on Macintosh or DOS CD-ROM from the publisher.

Complete Works (Aristotle). Jonathan Barnes, Princeton University Press, Princeton, N.J. 1991.

These texts are part of the Past Masters series. This series is an attempt to collect the most important texts in the history of philosophy, both in original language and English translation (if the original language is other English). All Greek has been transliterated and is delimited with the term tag.

May 1996 Jamie L. Spriggs, InteLex Corp. publisher Converted from Folio Flat File to TEI.2-compatible SGML; checked against print text; parsed against local teilite dtd.

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ARISTOTLE THE REVISED OXFORD TRANSLATION Edited by JONATHAN BARNES VOLUME TWO BOLLINGEN SERIES LXXI 2 PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS Copyright 1984 by The Jowett Copyright Trustees Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William St., Princeton, New Jersey In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, Oxford No part of this electronic edition may be printed without written permission from The Jowett Copyright Trustees and Princeton University Press. All Rights Reserved THIS IS PART TWO OF THE SEVENTY-FIRST IN A SERIES OF WORKS SPONSORED BY BOLLINGEN FOUNDATION Printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey Second Printing, 1985 Fourth Printing, 1991 987654

Contents
Preface . . . . . . . Acknowledgements Note to the Reader POLITICS . . . . . Book I . . . . Book II . . . Book III . . . Book IV . . . Book V . . . Book VI . . . Book VII . . Book VIII . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii . v . vi . 2 . 2 . 20 . 47 . 74 . 99 . 128 . 140 . 165

PREFACE
BENJAMIN JOWETT1 published his translation of Aristotles Politics in 1885, and he nursed the desire to see the whole of Aristotle done into English. In his will he left the perpetual copyright on his writings to Balliol College, desiring that any royalties should be invested and that the income from the investment should be applied in the rst place to the improvement or correction of his own books, and secondly to the making of New Translations or Editions of Greek Authors. In a codicil to the will, appended less than a month before his death, he expressed the hope that the translation of Aristotle may be nished as soon as possible. The Governing Body of Balliol duly acted on Jowetts wish: J. A. Smith, then a Fellow of Balliol and later Waynete Professor of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, and W. D. Ross, a Fellow of Oriel College, were appointed as general editors to supervise the project of translating all of Aristotles writings into English; and the College came to an agreement with the Delegates of the Clarendon Press for the publication of the work. The rst volume of what came to be known as The Oxford Translation of Aristotle appeared in 1908. The work continued under the joint guidance of Smith and Ross, and later under Rosss sole editorship. By 1930, with the publication of the eleventh volume, the whole of the standard corpus aristotelicum had been put into English. In 1954 Ross added a twelfth volume, of selected fragments, and thus completed the task begun almost half a century earlier. The translators whom Smith and Ross collected together included the most eminent English Aristotelians of the age; and the translations reached a remarkable standard of scholarship and delity to the text. But no translation is perfect, and all translations date: in 1976, the Jowett Trustees, in whom the copyright of the Translation lies, determined to commission a revision of the entire text. The Oxford Translation was to remain in substance its original self; but alterations were to be made, where advisable, in the light of recent scholarship and with the requirements of modern readers in mind. The present volumes thus contain a revised Oxford Translation: in all but three treatises, the original versions have been conserved with only mild emendations.
The text of Aristotle: The Complete Works is The Revised Oxford Translation of The Complete Works of Aristotle, edited by Jonathan Barnes, and published by Princeton University Press in 1984. Each reference line contains the approximate Bekker number range of the paragraph if the work in question was included in the Bekker edition.
1

PREFACE

iii

(The three exceptions are the Categories and de Interpretatione, where the translations of J. L. Ackrill have been substituted for those of E. M. Edgehill, and the Posterior Analytics, where G. R. G. Mures version has been replaced by that of J. Barnes. The new translations have all been previously published in the Clarendon Aristotle series.) In addition, the new Translation contains the tenth book of the History of Animals, and the third book of the Economics, which were not done for the original Translation; and the present selection from the fragments of Aristotles lost works includes a large number of passages which Ross did not translate. In the original Translation, the amount and scope of annotation differed greatly from one volume to the next: some treatises carried virtually no footnotes, others (notably the biological writings) contained almost as much scholarly commentary as textthe work of Ogle on the Parts of Animals or of dArcy Thompson on the History of Animals, Beares notes to On Memory or Joachims to On Indivisible Lines, were major contributions to Aristotelian scholarship. Economy has demanded that in the revised Translation annotation be kept to a minimum; and all the learned notes of the original version have been omitted. While that omission represents a considerable impoverishment, it has reduced the work to a more manageable bulk, and at the same time it has given the constituent translations a greater uniformity of character. It might be added that the revision is thus closer to Jowetts own intentions than was the original Translation. The revisions have been slight, more abundant in some treatises than in others but amounting, on the average, to some fty alterations for each Bekker page of Greek. Those alterations can be roughly classied under four heads. (i) A quantity of work has been done on the Greek text of Aristotle during the past half century: in many cases new and better texts are now available, and the reviser has from time to time emended the original Translation in the light of this research. (But he cannot claim to have made himself intimate with all the textual studies that recent scholarship has thrown up.) A standard text has been taken for each treatise, and the few departures from it, where they affect the sense, have been indicated in footnotes. On the whole, the reviser has been conservative, sometimes against his inclination. (ii) There are occasional errors or infelicities of translation in the original version: these have been corrected insofar as they have been observed. (iii) The English of the original Translation now seems in some respects archaic in its vocabulary and in its syntax: no attempt has been made to impose a consistently modern style upon the translations, but where archaic English might mislead the modern reader, it has been replaced by more current idiom.

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(iv) The fourth class of alterations accounts for the majority of changes made by the reviser. The original Translation is often paraphrastic: some of the translators used paraphrase freely and deliberately, attempting not so much to English Aristotles Greek as to explain in their own words what he was intending to conveythus translation turns by slow degrees into exegesis. Others construed their task more narrowly, but even in their more modest versions expansive paraphrase from time to time intrudes. The revision does not pretend to eliminate paraphrase altogether (sometimes paraphrase is venial; nor is there any precise boundary between translation and paraphrase); but it does endeavor, especially in the logical and philosophical parts of the corpus, to replace the more blatantly exegetical passages of the original by something a little closer to Aristotles text. The general editors of the original Translation did not require from their translators any uniformity in the rendering of technical and semitechnical terms. Indeed, the translators themselves did not always strive for uniformity within a single treatise or a single book. Such uniformity is surely desirable; but to introduce it would have been a massive task, beyond the scope of this revision. Some effort has, however, been made to remove certain of the more capricious variations of translation (especially in the more philosophical of Aristotles treatises). Nor did the original translators try to mirror in their English style the style of Aristotles Greek. For the most part, Aristotle is terse, compact, abrupt, his arguments condensed, his thought dense. For the most part, the Translation is owing and expansive, set out in well-rounded periods and expressed in a language which is usually literary and sometimes orotund. To that extent the Translation produces a false impression of what it is like to read Aristotle in the original; and indeed it is very likely to give a misleading idea of the nature of Aristotles philosophizing, making it seem more polished and nished than it actually is. In the revisers opinion, Aristotles sinewy Greek is best translated into correspondingly tough English; but to achieve that would demand a new translation, not a revision. No serious attempt has been made to alter the style of the originala style which, it should be said, is in itself elegant enough and pleasing to read. The reviser has been aided by several friends; and he would like to acknowledge in particular the help of Mr. Gavin Lawrence and Mr. Donald Russell. He remains acutely conscious of the numerous imperfections that are left. Yetas Aristotle himself would have put itthe work was laborious, and the reader must forgive the reviser for his errors and give him thanks for any improvements which he may chance to have effected. March 1981 J. B.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE TRANSLATIONS of the Categories and the de Interpretatione are reprinted here by permission of Professor J. L. Ackrill and Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1963); the translation of the Posterior Analytics is reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1975); the translation of the third book of the Economics is reprinted by permission of The Loeb Classical Library (William Heinemann and Harvard University Press); the translation of the fragments of the Protrepticus is based, with the authors generous permission, on the version by Professor Ingemar D uring.

NOTE TO THE READER

THE TRADITIONAL corpus aristotelicum contains several works which were certainly or probably not written by Aristotle. A single asterisk against the title of a work indicates that its authenticity has been seriously doubted; a pair of asterisks indicates that its spuriousness has never been seriously contested. These asterisks appear both in the Table of Contents and on the title pages of the individual works concerned. The title page of each work contains a reference to the edition of the Greek text against which the translation has been checked. References are by editors name, series or publisher (OCT stands for Oxford Classical Texts), and place and date of publication. In those places where the translation deviates from the chosen text and prefers a different reading in the Greek, a footnote marks the fact and indicates which reading is preferred; such places are rare. The numerals printed in the outer margins key the translation to Immanuel Bekkers standard edition of the Greek text of Aristotle of 1831. References consist of a page number, a column letter, and a line number. Thus 1343a marks column one of page 1343 of Bekkers edition; and the following 5, 10, 15, etc. stand against lines 5, 10, 15, etc. of that column of text. Bekker references of this type are found in most editions of Aristotles works, and they are used by all scholars who write about Aristotle.

POLITICS

POLITICS
Translated by B. Jowett2

Book I
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1 Every state is a community of some kind, and every community is established with a view to some good; for everyone always acts in order to obtain that which they think good. But, if all communities aim at some good, the state or political community, which is the highest of all, and which embraces all the rest, aims at good in a greater degree than any other, and at the highest good. Some people think that the qualications of a statesman, king, householder, and master are the same, and that they differ, not in kind, but only in the number of their subjects. For example, the ruler over a few is called a master; over more, the manager of a household; over a still larger number, a statesman or king, as if there were no difference between a great household and a small state. The distinction which is made between the king and the statesman is as follows: When the government is personal, the ruler is a king; when, according to the rules of the political science, the citizens rule and are ruled in turn, then he is called a statesman. But all this is a mistake, as will be evident to any one who considers the matter according to the method which has hitherto guided us. As in other departments of science, so in politics, the compound should always be resolved into the simple
2

TEXT: A. Dreizehnter, Munich, 1970

POLITICS: Book I

elements or least parts of the whole. We must therefore look at the elements of which the state is composed, in order that we may see in what the different kinds of rule differ from one another, and whether any scientic result can be attained about each one of them. 2 He who thus considers things in their rst growth and origin, whether a state or anything else, will obtain the clearest view of them. In the rst place there must be a union of those who cannot exist without each other; namely, of male and female, that the race may continue (and this is a union which is formed, not of choice, but because, in common with other animals and with plants, mankind have a natural desire to leave behind them an image of themselves), and of natural ruler and subject, that both may be preserved. For that which can foresee by the exercise of mind is by nature lord and master, and that which can with its body give effect to such foresight is a subject, and by nature a slave; hence master and slave have the same interest. Now nature has distinguished between the female and the slave. For she is not niggardly, like the smith who fashions the Delphian knife for many uses; she makes each thing for a single use, and every instrument is best made when intended for one and not for many uses. But among barbarians no distinction is made between women and slaves, because there is no natural ruler among them: they are a community of slaves, male and female. That is why the poets say, It is meet that Hellenes should rule over barbarians; as if they thought that the barbarian and the slave were by nature one. Out of these two relationships the rst thing to arise is the family, and Hesiod is right when he says, First house and wife and an ox for the plough, for the ox is the poor mans slave. The family is the association established by nature for the supply of mens everyday wants, and the members of it are called by Charondas, companions of the cupboard, and by Epimenides the Cretan, companions of the manger. But when several families are united, and the association aims at something more than the supply of daily needs, the rst society to be formed is the village. And the most natural form of the village appears to be that of a colony from the family, composed of the children and grandchildren, who are said to be suckled with the same milk. And this is the reason why Hellenic states were originally governed by kings; because the Hellenes were under royal rule before they came together, as the barbarians still are. Every family is ruled by the
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eldest, and therefore in the colonies of the family the kingly form of government prevailed because they were of the same blood. As Homer says: Each one gives law to his children and to his wives. For they lived dispersedly, as was the manner in ancient times. That is why men say that the Gods have a king, because they themselves either are or were in ancient times under the rule of a king. For they imagine not only the forms of the Gods but their ways of life to be like their own. When several villages are united in a single complete community, large enough to be nearly or quite self-sufcing, the state comes into existence, originating in the bare needs of life, and continuing in existence for the sake of a good life. And therefore, if the earlier forms of society are natural, so is the state, for it is the end of them, and the nature of a thing is its end. For what each thing is when fully developed, we call its nature, whether we are speaking of a man, a horse, or a family. Besides, the nal cause and end of a thing is the best, and to be self-sufcing is the end and the best. Hence it is evident that the state is a creation of nature, and that man is by nature a political animal. And he who by nature and not by mere accident is without a state, is either a bad man or above humanity; he is like the Tribeless, lawless, hearthless one, whom Homer denouncesthe natural outcast is forthwith a lover of war; he may be compared to an isolated piece at draughts. Now, that man is more of a political animal than bees or any other gregarious animals is evident. Nature, as we often say, makes nothing in vain, and man is the only animal who has the gift of speech. And whereas mere voice is but an indication of pleasure or pain, and is therefore found in other animals (for their nature attains to the perception of pleasure and pain and the intimation of them to one another, and no further), the power of speech is intended to set forth the expedient and inexpedient, and therefore likewise the just and the unjust. And it is a characteristic of man that he alone has any sense of good and evil, of just and unjust, and the like, and the association of living beings who have this sense makes a family and a state. Further, the state is by nature clearly prior to the family and to the individual, since the whole is of necessity prior to the part; for example, if the whole body be destroyed, there will be no foot or hand, except homonymously, as we might speak of a stone hand; for when destroyed the hand will be no better than that.

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POLITICS: Book I

But things are dened by their function and power; and we ought not to say that they are the same when they no longer have their proper quality, but only that they are homonymous. The proof that the state is a creation of nature and prior to the individual is that the individual, when isolated, is not self-sufcing; and therefore he is like a part in relation to the whole. But he who is unable to live in society, or who has no need because he is sufcient for himself, must be either a beast or a god: he is no part of a state. A social instinct is implanted in all men by nature, and yet he who rst founded the state was the greatest of benefactors. For man, when perfected, is the best of animals, but, when separated from law and justice, he is the worst of all; since armed injustice is the more dangerous, and he is equipped at birth with arms, meant to be used by intelligence and excellence, which he may use for the worst ends. That is why, if he has not excellence, he is the most unholy and the most savage of animals, and the most full of lust and gluttony. But justice is the bond of men in states; for the administration of justice, which is the determination of what is just, is the principle of order in political society. 3 Seeing then that the state is made up of households, before speaking of the state we must speak of the management of the household. The parts of household management correspond to the persons who compose the household, and a complete household consists of slaves and freemen. Now we should begin by examining everything in its fewest possible elements; and the rst and fewest possible parts of a family are master and slave, husband and wife, father and children. We have therefore to consider what each of these three relations is and ought to be:I mean the relation of master and servant, the marriage relation (the conjunction of man and wife has no name of its own), and thirdly, the paternal relation (this also has no proper name). And there is another element of a household, the so-called art of getting wealth, which, according to some, is identical with household management, according to others, a principal part of it; the nature of this art will also have to be considered by us. Let us rst speak of master and slave, looking to the needs of practical life and also seeking to attain some better theory of their relation than exists at present. For some are of the opinion that the rule of a master is a science, and that the management of a household, and the mastership of slaves, and the political and royal rule, as I was saying at the outset, are all the same. Others afrm that the rule of a master over slaves is contrary to nature, and that the distinction between slave and freeman exists by convention only, and not by nature; and being an interference with nature is therefore unjust.
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4 Property is a part of the household, and the art of acquiring property is a part of the art of managing the household; for no man can live well, or indeed live at all, unless he is provided with necessaries. And as in the arts which have a denite sphere the workers must have their own proper instruments for the accomplishment of their work, so it is in the management of a household. Now instruments are of various sorts; some are living, others lifeless; in the rudder, the pilot of a ship has a lifeless, in the look-out man, a living instrument; for in the arts the servant is a kind of instrument. Thus, too, a possession is an instrument for maintaining life. And so, in the arrangement of the family, a slave is a living possession, and property a number of such instruments; and the servant is himself an instrument for instruments. For if every instrument could accomplish its own work, obeying or anticipating the will of others, like the statues of Daedalus, or the tripods of Hephaestus, which, says the poet, of their own accord entered the assembly of the Gods; if, in like manner, the shuttle would weave and the plectrum touch the lyre, chief workmen would not want servants, nor masters slaves. Now the instruments commonly so called are instruments of production, whilst a possession is an instrument of action. From a shuttle we get something else besides the use of it, whereas of a garment or of a bed there is only the use. Further, as production and action are different in kind, and both require instruments, the instruments which they employ must likewise differ in kind. But life is action and not production, and therefore the slave is the minister of action. Again, a possession is spoken of as a part is spoken of; for the part is not only a part of something else, but wholly belongs to it; and this is also true of a possession. The master is only the master of the slave; he does not belong to him, whereas the slave is not only the slave of his master, but wholly belongs to him. Hence we see what is the nature and ofce of a slave; he who is by nature not his own but anothers man, is by nature a slave; and he may be said to be anothers man who, being a slave, is also a possession. And a possession may be dened as an instrument of action, separable from the possessor.

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5 But is there any one thus intended by nature to be a slave, and for whom such a condition is expedient and right, or rather is not all slavery a violation of nature? There is no difculty in answering this question, on grounds both of reason and of fact. For that some should rule and others be ruled is a thing not only

POLITICS: Book I

necessary, but expedient; from the hour of their birth, some are marked out for subjection, others for rule. And there are many kinds both of rulers and subjects (and that rule is the better which is exercised over better subjectsfor example, to rule over men is better than to rule over wild beasts; for the work is better which is executed by better workmen, and where one man rules and another is ruled, they may be said to have a work); for in all things which form a composite whole and which are made up of parts, whether continuous or discrete, a distinction between the ruling and the subject element comes to light. Such a duality exists in living creatures, originating from nature as a whole; even in things which have no life there is a ruling principle, as in a musical mode. But perhaps this is matter for a more popular investigation. A living creature consists in the rst place of soul and body, and of these two, the one is by nature the ruler and the other the subject. But then we must look for the intentions of nature in things which retain their nature, and not in things which are corrupted. And therefore we must study the man who is in the most perfect state both of body and soul, for in him we shall see the true relation of the two; although in bad or corrupted natures the body will often appear to rule over the soul, because they are in an evil and unnatural condition. At all events we may rstly observe in living creatures both a despotical and a constitutional rule; for the soul rules the body with a despotical rule, whereas the intellect rules the appetites with a constitutional and royal rule. And it is clear that the rule of the soul over the body, and of the mind and the rational element over the passionate, is natural and expedient; whereas the equality of the two or the rule of the inferior is always hurtful. The same holds good of animals in relation to men; for tame animals have a better nature than wild and all tame animals are better off when they are ruled by man; for then they are preserved. Again, the male is by nature superior, and the female inferior; and the one rules, and the other is ruled; this principle, of necessity, extends to all mankind. Where then there is such a difference as that between soul and body, or between men and animals (as in the case of those whose business is to use their body, and who can do nothing better), the lower sort are by nature slaves, and it is better for them as for all inferiors that they should be under the rule of a master. For he who can be, and therefore is, anothers, and he who participates in reason enough to apprehend, but not to have, is a slave by nature. Whereas the lower animals cannot even apprehend reason;3 they obey their passions. And indeed the use made of slaves and of tame animals is not very different; for both with their bodies minister to the
3

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needs of life. Nature would like to distinguish between the bodies of freemen and slaves, making the one strong for servile labour, the other upright, and although useless for such services, useful for political life in the arts both of war and peace. But the opposite often happensthat some have the souls and others have the bodies of freemen. And doubtless if men differed from one another in the mere forms of their bodies as much as the statues of the Gods do from men, all would acknowledge that the inferior class should be slaves of the superior. And if this is true of the body, how much more just that a similar distinction should exist in the soul? But the beauty of the body is seen, whereas the beauty of the soul is not seen. It is clear, then, that some men are by nature free, and others slaves, and that for these latter slavery is both expedient and right.
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6 But that those who take the opposite view have in a certain way right on their side, may be easily seen. For the words slavery and slave are used in two senses. There is a slave or slavery by convention as well as by nature. The convention is a sort of agreementthe convention by which whatever is taken in war is supposed to belong to the victors. But this right many jurists impeach, as they would an orator who brought forward an unconstitutional measure: they detest the notion that, because one man has the power of doing violence and is superior in brute strength, another shall be his slave and subject. Even among philosophers there is a difference of opinion. The origin of the dispute, and what makes the views invade each others territory, is as follows: in some sense excellence, when furnished with means, has actually the greatest power of exercising force: and as superior power is only found where there is superior excellence of some kind, power seems to imply excellence, and the dispute to be simply one about justice (for it is due to one party identifying4 justice with goodwill, while the other identies it with the mere rule of the stronger). If these views are thus set out separately, the other views have no force or plausibility against the view that the superior in excellence ought to rule, or be master. Others, clinging, as they think, simply to a principle of justice (for convention is a sort of justice), assume that slavery in accordance with the custom of war is just, but at the same moment they deny this. For what if the cause of the war be unjust? And again, no one would ever say that he is a slave who is unworthy to be a slave. Were this the case, men of the highest rank would be slaves and the children of slaves if they or their parents chanced to have been taken captive and sold. That is why people do not like to call themselves slaves, but conne the term to foreigners. Yet, in using this language, they really mean the natural slave of whom we spoke at rst; for it must
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POLITICS: Book I

be admitted that some are slaves everywhere, others nowhere. The same principle applies to nobility. People regard themselves as noble everywhere, and not only in their own country, but they deem foreigners noble only when at home, thereby implying that there are two sorts of nobility and freedom, the one absolute, the other relative. The Helen of Theodectes says: Who would presume to call me servant who am on both sides sprung from the stem of the Gods? What does this mean but that they distinguish freedom and slavery, noble and humble birth, by the two principles of good and evil? They think that as men and animals beget men and animals, so from good men a good man springs. Nature intends to do this often but cannot. We see then that there is some foundation for this difference of opinion, and that all are not either slaves by nature or freemen by nature, and also that there is in some cases a marked distinction between the two classes, rendering it expedient and right for the one to be slaves and the others to be masters: the one practising obedience, the others exercising the authority and lordship which nature intended them to have. The abuse of this authority is injurious to both; for the interests of part and whole, of body and soul, are the same, and the slave is a part of the master, a living but separated part of his bodily frame. Hence, where the relation of master and slave between them is natural they are friends and have a common interest, but where it rests merely on convention and force the reverse is true. 7 The previous remarks are quite enough to show that the rule of a master is not a constitutional rule, and that all the different kinds of rule are not, as some afrm, the same as each other. For there is one rule exercised over subjects who are by nature free, another over subjects who are by nature slaves. The rule of a household is a monarchy, for every house is under one head: whereas constitutional rule is a government of freemen and equals. The master is not called a master because he has science, but because he is of a certain character, and the same remark applies to the slave and the freeman. Still there may be a science for the master and a science for the slave. The science of the slave would be such as the man of Syracuse taught, who made money by instructing slaves in their ordinary duties. And such a knowledge may be carried further, so as to include cookery and similar menial arts. For some duties are of the more necessary, others of the more honourable sort; as the proverb says, slave before slave, master before master. But all such branches of knowledge are servile. There is likewise a science of the master, which teaches the use of slaves; for the master as such is

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concerned, not with the acquisition, but with the use of them. Yet this science is not anything great or wonderful; for the master need only know how to order that which the slave must know how to execute. Hence those who are in a position which places them above toil have stewards who attend to their households while they occupy themselves with philosophy or with politics. But the art of acquiring slaves, I mean of justly acquiring them, differs both from the art of the master and the art of slave, being a species of hunting or war. Enough of the distinction between master and slave.
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8 Let us now inquire into property generally, and into the art of getting wealth, in accordance with our usual method, for a slave has been shown to be a part of property. The rst question is whether the art of getting wealth is the same as the art of managing a household or a part of it, or instrumental to it; and if the last, whether in the way that the art of making shuttles is instrumental to the art of weaving, or in the way that the casting of bronze is instrumental to the art of the statuary, for they are not instrumental in the same way, but the one provides tools and the other material; and by material I mean the substratum out of which any work is made; thus wool is the material of the weaver, bronze of the statuary. Now it is easy to see that the art of household management is not identical with the art of getting wealth, for the one uses the material which the other provides. For the art which uses household stores can be no other than the art of household management. There is, however, a doubt whether the art of getting wealth is a part of household management or a distinct art. If the getter of wealth has to consider whence wealth and property can be procured, but there are many sorts of property and riches, then are husbandry, and the care and provision of food in general, parts of the art of household management or distinct arts? Again, there are many sorts of food, and therefore there are many kinds of lives both of animals and men; they must all have food, and the differences in their food have made differences in their ways of life. For of beasts, some are gregarious, others are solitary; they live in the way which is best adapted to sustain them, accordingly as they are carnivorous or herbivorous or omnivorous: and their habits are determined for them by nature with regard to their ease and choice of food. But the same things are not naturally pleasant to all of them; and therefore the lives of carnivorous or herbivorous animals further differ among themselves. In the lives of men too there is a great difference. The laziest are shepherds, who lead an idle life, and get their subsistence without trouble from tame animals; their ocks having to wander from place to place in search of pasture, they are compelled to follow them, cultivating a sort of living farm. Others support themselves by hunting,

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which is of different kinds. Some, for example, are brigands, others, who dwell near lakes or marshes or rivers or a sea in which there are sh, are shermen, and others live by the pursuit of birds or wild beasts. The greater number obtain a living from the cultivated fruits of the soil. Such are the modes of subsistence which prevail among those whose industry springs up of itself, and whose food is not acquired by exchange and retail tradethere is the shepherd, the husbandman, the brigand, the sherman, the hunter. Some gain a comfortable maintenance out of two employments, eking out the deciencies of one of them by another: thus the life of a shepherd may be combined with that of a brigand, the life of a farmer with that of a hunter. Other modes of life are similarly combined in any way which the needs of men may require. Property, in the sense of a bare livelihood, seems to be given by nature herself to all, both when they are rst born, and when they are grown up. For some animals bring forth, together with their offspring, so much food as will last until they are able to supply themselves; of this the vermiparous or oviparous animals are an instance; and the viviparous animals have up to a certain time a supply of food for their young in themselves, which is called milk. In like manner we may infer that, after the birth of animals, plants exist for their sake, and that the other animals exist for the sake of man,5 the tame for use and food, the wild, if not all, at least the greater part of them, for food, and for the provision of clothing and various instruments. Now if nature makes nothing incomplete, and nothing in vain, the inference must be that she has made all animals for the sake of man. And so, from one point of view, the art of war is a natural art of acquisition, for the art of acquisition includes hunting, an art which we ought to practise against wild beasts, and against men who, though intended by nature to be governed, will not submit; for war of such a kind is naturally just. Of the art of acquisition then there is one kind which by nature is a part of the management of a household, in so far as the art of household management must either nd ready to hand, or itself provide, such things necessary to life, and useful for the community of the family or state, as can be stored. They are the elements of true riches; for the amount of property which is needed for a good life is not unlimited, although Solon in one of his poems says that No bound to riches has been xed for man. But there is a boundary xed, just as there is in the other arts; for the instruments of any art are never unlimited, either in number or size, and riches may be dened as a number of instruments to be used in a household or in a state. And so
5

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Retaining zoa ton anthropon.

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we see that there is a natural art of acquisition which is practised by managers of households and by statesmen, and the reason for this.
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9 There is another variety of the art of acquisition which is commonly and rightly called an art of wealth-getting, and has in fact suggested the notion that riches and property have no limit. Being nearly connected with the preceding, it is often identied with it. But though they are not very different, neither are they the same. The kind already described is given by nature, the other is gained by experience and art. Let us begin our discussion of the question with the following considerations. Of everything which we possess there are two uses: both belong to the thing as such, but not in the same manner, for one is the proper, and the other the improper use of it. For example, a shoe is used for wear, and is used for exchange; both are uses of the shoe. He who gives a shoe in exchange for money or food to him who wants one, does indeed use the shoe as a shoe, but this is not its proper use, for a shoe is not made to be an object of barter. The same may be said of all possessions, for the art of exchange extends to all of them, and it arises at rst from what is natural, from the circumstance that some have too little, others too much. Hence we may infer that retail trade is not a natural part of the art of getting wealth; had it been so, men would have ceased to exchange when they had enough. In the rst community, indeed, which is the family, this art is obviously of no use, but it begins to be useful when the society increases. For the members of the family originally had all things in common; later, when the family divided into parts, the parts shared in many things, and different parts in different things, which they had to give in exchange for what they wanted, a kind of barter which is still practised among barbarous nations who exchange with one another the necessaries of life and nothing more; giving and receiving wine, for example, in exchange for corn, and the like. This sort of barter is not part of the wealth-getting art and is not contrary to nature, but is needed for the satisfaction of mens natural wants. The other form of exchange grew, as might have been inferred, out of this one. When the inhabitants of one country became more dependent on those of another, and they imported what they needed, and exported what they had too much of, money necessarily came into use. For the various necessaries of life are not easily carried about, and hence men agreed to employ in their dealings with each other something which was intrinsically useful and easily applicable to the purposes of life, for example, iron, silver, and the like. Of this the value was at rst measured simply by size and weight, but in process of time they put a stamp upon it, to save the trouble of weighing and to mark the value.

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When the use of coin had once been discovered, out of the barter of necessary articles arose the other art of wealth-getting, namely, retail trade; which was at rst probably a simple matter, but became more complicated as soon as men learned by experience whence and by what exchanges the greatest prot might be made. Originating in the use of coin, the art of getting wealth is generally thought to be chiey concerned with it, and to be the art which produces riches and wealth, having to consider how they may be accumulated. Indeed, riches is assumed by many to be only a quantity of coin, because the arts of getting wealth and retail trade are concerned with coin. Others maintain that coined money is a mere sham, a thing not natural, but conventional only, because, if the users substitute another commodity for it, it is worthless, and because it is not useful as a means to any of the necessities of life, and, indeed, he who is rich in coin may often be in want of necessary food. But how can that be wealth of which a man may have a great abundance and yet perish with hunger, like Midas in the fable, whose insatiable prayer turned everything that was set before him into gold? Hence men seek after a better notion of riches and of the art of getting wealth, and they are right. For natural riches and the natural art of wealth-getting are a different thing; in their true form they are part of the management of a household; whereas retail trade is the art of producing wealth, not in every way, but by exchange. And it is thought to be concerned with coin; for coin is the unit of exchange and the limit of it. And there is no bound to the riches which spring from this art of wealth-getting. As in the art of medicine there is no limit to the pursuit of health, and as in the other arts there is no limit to the pursuit of their several ends, for they aim at accomplishing their ends to the uttermost (but of the means there is a limit, for the end is always the limit), so, too, in this art of wealthgetting there is no limit of the end, which is riches of the spurious kind, and the acquisition of wealth. But the art of wealth-getting which consists in household management, on the other hand, has a limit;6 the unlimited acquisition of wealth is not its business. And, therefore, from one point of view, all riches must have a limit; nevertheless, as a matter of fact, we nd the opposite to be the case; for all getters of wealth increase their hoard of coin without limit. The source of the confusion is the near connexion between the two kinds of wealth-getting; in both, the instrument is the same, although the use is different, and so they pass into one another; for each is a use of the same property, but with a difference: accumulation is the end in the one case, but there is a further end in the other. Hence some persons are led to believe that getting wealth is the object of household manage6

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Reading au for ou.

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ment, and the whole idea of their lives is that they ought either to increase their money without limit, or at any rate not to lose it. The origin of this disposition in men is that they are intent upon living only, and not upon living well; and, as their desires are unlimited, they also desire that the means of gratifying them should be without limit. Those who do aim at a good life seek the means of obtaining bodily pleasures; and, since the enjoyment of these appears to depend on property, they are absorbed in getting wealth: and so there arises the second species of wealthgetting. For, as their enjoyment is in excess, they seek an art which produces the excess of enjoyment; and, if they are not able to supply their pleasures by the art of getting wealth, they try other causes, using in turn every faculty in a manner contrary to nature. The quality of courage, for example, is not intended to make wealth, but to inspire condence; neither is this the aim of the generals or of the physicians art; but the one aims at victory and the other at health. Nevertheless, some men turn every quality or art into a means of getting wealth; this they conceive to be the end, and to the promotion of the end they think all things must contribute. Thus, then, we have considered the art of wealth-getting which is unnecessary, and why men want it; and also the necessary art of wealth-getting, which we have seen to be different from the other, and to be a natural part of the art of managing a household, concerned with the provision of food, not, however, like the former kind, unlimited, but having a limit. 10 And we have found the answer to our original question, Whether the art of getting wealth is the business of the manager of a household and of the statesman or not their business?viz. that wealth is presupposed by them. For as political science does not make men, but takes them from nature and uses them, so too nature provides them with earth or sea or the like as a source of food. At this stage begins the duty of the manager of a household, who has to order the things which nature supplieshe may be compared to the weaver who has not to make but to use wool, and to know, too, what sort of wool is good and serviceable or bad and unserviceable. Were this otherwise, it would be difcult to see why the art of getting wealth is a part of the management of a household and the art of medicine not; for surely the members of a household must have health just as they must have life or any other necessity. The answer is that as from one point of view the master of the house and the ruler of the state have to consider about health, from another point of view not they but the physician has to; so in one way the art of household management, in another way the subordinate art, has to consider about wealth. But, strictly speaking, as I have already said, the means of life must

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be provided beforehand by nature; for the business of nature is to furnish food to that which is born, and the food of the offspring is always what remains over of that from which it is produced. That is why the art of getting wealth out of fruits and animals is always natural. There are two sorts of wealth-getting, as I have said; one is a part of household management, the other is retail trade: the former is necessary and honourable, while that which consists in exchange is justly censured; for it is unnatural, and a mode by which men gain from one another. The most hated sort, and with the greatest reason, is usury, which makes a gain out of money itself, and not from the natural object of it. For money was intended to be used in exchange, but not to increase at interest. And this term interest, which means the birth of money from money, is applied to the breeding of money because the offspring resembles the parent. That is why of all modes of getting wealth this is the most unnatural. 11 Enough has been said about the theory of wealth-getting; we will now proceed to the practical part. Such things may be studied by a free man, but will only be practised from necessity. The useful parts of wealth-getting are, rst, the knowledge of live-stockwhich are most protable, and where, and how as for example, what sort of horses or sheep or oxen or any other animals are most likely to give a return. A man ought to know which of these pay better than others, and which pay best in particular places, for some do better in one place and some in another. Secondly, husbandry, which may be either tillage or planting, and the keeping of bees and of sh, or fowl, or of any animals which may be useful to man. These are the divisions of the true or proper art of wealthgetting and come rst. Of the other, which consists in exchange, the rst and most important division is commerce (of which there are three kindsship-owning, the conveyance of goods, exposure for salethese again differing as they are safer or more protable), the second is usury, the third, service for hireof this, one kind is employed in the mechanical arts, the other in unskilled and bodily labour. There is still a third sort of wealth-getting intermediate between this and the rst or natural mode which is partly natural, but is also concerned with exchange, viz. the industries that make their prot from the earth, and from things growing from the earth which, although they bear no fruit, are nevertheless protable; for example, the cutting of timber and all mining. The art of mining itself has many branches, for there are various kinds of things dug out of the earth. Of the several divisions of wealth-getting I now speak generally; a minute consideration of them might be useful in practice, but it would be tiresome to dwell upon them at greater length now.

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Those occupations are most truly arts in which there is the least element of chance; they are the meanest in which the body is most maltreated, the most servile in which there is the greatest use of the body, and the most illiberal in which there is the least need of excellence. Works have been written upon these subjects by various persons; for example, by Chares the Parian, and Apollodorus the Lemnian, who have treated of Tillage and Planting, while others have treated of other branches; anyone who cares for such matters may refer to their writings. It would be well also to collect the scattered stories of the ways in which individuals have succeeded in amassing a fortune; for all this is useful to persons who value the art of getting wealth. There is the anecdote of Thales the Milesian and his nancial scheme, which involves a principle of universal application, but is attributed to him on account of his reputation for wisdom. He was reproached for his poverty, which was supposed to show that philosophy was of no use. According to the story, he knew by his skill in the stars while it was yet winter that there would be a great harvest of olives in the coming year; so, having a little money, he gave deposits for the use of all the olive-presses in Chios and Miletus, which he hired at a low price because no one bid against him. When the harvest-time came, and many were wanted all at once and of a sudden, he let them out at any rate which he pleased, and made a quantity of money. Thus he showed the world that philosophers can easily be rich if they like, but that their ambition is of another sort. He is supposed to have given a striking proof of his wisdom, but, as I was saying, his scheme for getting wealth is of universal application, and is nothing but the creation of a monopoly. It is an art often practised by cities when they are in want of money; they make a monopoly of provisions. There was a man of Sicily, who, having money deposited with him, bought up all the iron from the iron mines; afterwards, when the merchants from their various markets came to buy, he was the only seller, and without much increasing the price he gained 200 per cent. Which when Dionysius heard, he told him that he might take away his money, but that he must not remain at Syracuse, for he thought that the man had discovered a way of making money which was injurious to his own interests. He made the same discovery as Thales; they both contrived to create a monopoly for themselves. And statesmen as well ought to know these things; for a state is often as much in want of money and of such schemes for obtaining it as a household, or even more so; hence some public men devote themselves entirely to nance. 12 Of household management we have seen that there are three partsone

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is the rule of a master over slaves, which has been discussed already, another of a father, and the third of a husband. A husband and father, we saw, rules over wife and children, both free, but the rule differs, the rule over his children being a royal, over his wife a constitutional rule. For although there may be exceptions to the order of nature, the male is by nature tter for command than the female, just as the elder and full-grown is superior to the younger and more immature. But in most constitutional states the citizens rule and are ruled by turns, for the idea of a constitutional state implies that the natures of the citizens are equal, and do not differ at all. Nevertheless, when one rules and the other is ruled we endeavour to create a difference of outward forms and names and titles of respect, which may be illustrated by the saying of Amasis about his foot-pan. The relation of the male to the female is always of this kind. The rule of a father over his children is royal, for he rules by virtue both of love and of the respect due to age, exercising a kind of royal power. And therefore Homer has appropriately called Zeus father of Gods and men, because he is the king of them all. For a king is the natural superior of his subjects, but he should be of the same kin or kind with them, and such is the relation of elder and younger, of father and son. 13 Thus it is clear that household management attends more to men than to the acquisition of inanimate things, and to human excellence more than to the excellence of property which we call wealth, and to the excellence of freemen more than to the excellence of slaves. A question may indeed be raised, whether there is any excellence at all in a slave beyond those of an instrument and of a servantwhether he can have the excellences of temperance, courage, justice, and the like; or whether slaves possess only bodily services. And, whichever way we answer the question, a difculty arises; for, if they have excellence, in what will they differ from freemen? On the other hand, since they are men and share in rational principle, it seems absurd to say that they have no excellence. A similar question may be raised about women and children, whether they too have excellences; ought a woman to be temperate and brave and just, and is a child to be called temperate, and intemperate, or not? So in general we may ask about the natural ruler, and the natural subject, whether they have the same or different excellences. For if a noble nature is equally required in both, why should one of them always rule, and the other always be ruled? Nor can we say that this is a question of degree, for the difference between ruler and subject is a difference of kind, which the difference of more and less never is. Yet how strange is the supposition that the one ought, and that the other ought not, to have excellence! For if the ruler is intemperate and unjust, how can he rule well? if the subject,
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how can he obey well? If he is licentious and cowardly, he will certainly not do what is tting. It is evident, therefore, that both of them must have a share of excellence, but varying as natural subjects also vary among themselves. Here the very constitution of the soul has shown us the way; in it one part naturally rules, and the other is subject, and the excellence of the ruler we maintain to be different from that of the subjectthe one being the excellence of the rational, and the other of the irrational part. Now, it is obvious that the same principle applies generally, and therefore almost all things rule and are ruled according to nature. But the kind of rule differsthe freeman rules over the slave after another manner from that in which the male rules over the female, or the man over the child; although the parts of the soul are present in all of them, they are present in different degrees. For the slave has no deliberative faculty at all; the woman has, but it is without authority, and the child has, but it is immature. So it must necessarily be supposed to be with the excellences of character also; all should partake of them, but only in such manner and degree as is required by each for the fullment of his function. Hence the ruler ought to have excellence of character in perfection, for his function, taken absolutely, demands a master articer, and reason is such an articer; the subjects, on the other hand, require only that measure of excellence which is proper to each of them. Clearly, then, excellence of character belongs to all of them; but the temperance of a man and of a woman, or the courage and justice of a man and of a woman, are not, as Socrates maintained, the same; the courage of a man is shown in commanding, of a woman in obeying. And this holds of all other excellences, as will be more clearly seen if we look at them in detail, for those who say generally that excellence consists in a good disposition of the soul, or in doing rightly, or the like, only deceive themselves. Far better than such denitions is the mode of speaking of those who, like Gorgias, enumerate the excellences. All classes must be deemed to have their special attributes; as the poet says of women, Silence is a womans glory, but this is not equally the glory of man. The child is imperfect, and therefore obviously his excellence is not relative to himself alone, but to the perfect man and to his teacher, and in like manner the excellence of the slave is relative to a master. Now we determined that a slave is useful for the wants of life, and therefore he will obviously require only so much excellence as will prevent him from failing in his function through cowardice or lack of self-control. Someone will ask whether, if what we are saying is true, excellence will not be required also in the artisans, for they often fail in their work through the lack of self-control. But is there not a great difference in the two cases? For the slave shares in his masters

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life; the artisan is less closely connected with him, and only attains excellence in proportion as he becomes a slave. The meaner sort of mechanic has a special and separate slavery; and whereas the slave exists by nature, not so the shoemaker or other artisan. It is manifest, then, that the master ought to be the source of such excellence in the slave, and not a mere possessor of the art of mastership which trains the slave in his functions. That is why they are mistaken who forbid us to converse with slaves and say that we should employ command only, for slaves stand even more in need of admonition than children. So much for this subject; the relations of husband and wife, father and child, their several excellences, what in their intercourse with one another is good, and what is evil, and how we may pursue the good and escape the evil, will have to be discussed when we speak of the different forms of government. For, inasmuch as every family is a part of a state, and these relationships are the parts of a family, and the excellence of the part must have regard to the excellence of the whole, women and children must be trained by education with an eye to the constitution, if the excellences of either of them are supposed to make any difference in the excellences of the state. And they must make a difference: for the children grow up to be citizens, and half the free persons in a state are women. Of these matters, enough has been said; of what remains, let us speak at another time. Regarding, then, our present inquiry as complete, we will make a new beginning. And, rst, let us examine the various theories of a perfect state.

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Book II
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1 Our purpose is to consider what form of political community is best of all for those who are most able to realize their ideal of life. We must therefore examine not only this but other constitutions, both such as actually exist in well-governed states, and any theoretical forms which are held in esteem, so that what is good and useful may be brought to light. And let no one suppose that in seeking for something beyond them we are anxious to make a sophistical display at any cost; we only undertake this inquiry because all the constitutions which now exist are faulty. We will begin with the natural beginning of the subject. The members of a state must either have all things or nothing in common, or some things in common and some not. That they should have nothing in common is clearly impossible, for the constitution is a community, and must at any rate have a common placeone city will be in one place, and the citizens are those who share in that one city. But should a well-ordered state have all things, as far as may be, in common, or some only and not others? For the citizens might conceivably have wives and children and property in common, as Socrates proposes in the Republic of Plato. Which is better, our present condition, or one conforming to the law laid down in the Republic? 2 There are many difculties in the community of women. And the principle on which Socrates rests the necessity of such an institution evidently is not established by his arguments. Further, as a means to the end which he ascribes to the state, the scheme, taken literally, is impracticable, and how we are to interpret it is nowhere precisely stated. I am speaking of the supposition from which the argument of Socrates proceeds, that it is best for the whole state to be as unied as possible. Is it not obvious that a state may at length attain such a degree of unity as to be no longer a state?since the nature of a state is to be a plurality, and in tending to greater unity, from being a state, it becomes a family, and from being a family, an individual; for the family may be said to be more one than the state, and the individual than the family. So that we ought not to attain this greatest unity even if we could, for it would be the destruction of the state. Again, a state is not made up only of so many men, but of different kinds of men; for similars do not constitute a state. It is not like a military alliance. The usefulness of the latter

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depends upon its quantity even where there is no difference in quality (for mutual protection is the end aimed at), just as a greater weight depresses the scale more (in like manner, a state differs from a nation, when the nation has not its population organized in villages, but lives an Arcadian sort of life); but the elements out of which a unity is to be formed differ in kind. That is why the principle of reciprocity, as I have already remarked in the Ethics, is the salvation of states. Even among freemen and equals this is a principle which must be maintained, for they cannot all rule together, but must change at the end of a year or some other period of time or in some order of succession. The result is that upon this plan they all govern; just as if shoemakers and carpenters were to exchange their occupations, and the same persons did not always continue shoemakers and carpenters. And since it is better that this should be so in politics as well, it is clear that while there should be continuance of the same persons in power where this is possible, yet where this is not possible by reason of the natural equality of the citizens, and at the same time it is just that all should share in the government (whether to govern be a good thing or a bad),in these cases this is imitated.7 Thus the one party rules and the others are ruled in turn, as if they were no longer the same persons. In like manner when they hold ofce there is a variety in the ofces held. Hence it is evident that a city is not by nature one in that sense which some persons afrm; and that what is said to be the greatest good of cities is in reality their destruction; but surely the good of things must be that which preserves them. Again, from another point of view, this extreme unication of the state is clearly not good; for a family is more self-sufcing than an individual, and a city than a family, and a city only comes into being when the community is large enough to be self-sufcing. If then self-sufciency is to be desired, the lesser degree of unity is more desirable than the greater. 3 But, even supposing that it were best for the community to have the greatest degree of unity, this unity is by no means proved to follow from the fact of all men saying mine and not mine at the same instant of time, which, according to Socrates, is the sign of perfect unity in a state. For the word all is ambiguous. If the meaning be that every individual says mine and not mine at the same time, then perhaps the result at which Socrates aims may be in some degree accomplished; each man will call the same person his own son and the same person his own wife, and so of his property and of all that falls to his lot. This, however, is not the way in which people would speak who had their wives and children in common; they would say all but not each. In like manner their property would
7

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be described as belonging to them, not severally but collectively. There is an obvious fallacy in the term all: like some other words, both, odd, even, it is ambiguous, and even in abstract argument becomes a source of logical puzzles. That all persons call the same thing mine in the sense in which each does so may be a ne thing, but it is impracticable; or if the words are taken in the other sense, such a unity in no way conduces to harmony. And there is another objection to the proposal. For that which is common to the greatest number has the least care bestowed upon it. Everyone thinks chiey of his own, hardly at all of the common interest; and only when he is himself concerned as an individual. For besides other considerations, everybody is more inclined to neglect something which he expects another to full; as in families many attendants are often less useful than a few. Each citizen will have a thousand sons who will not be his sons individually, but anybody will be equally the son of anybody, and will therefore be neglected by all alike. Further, upon this principle, every one will use the word mine of one who is prospering or the reverse, however small a fraction he may himself be of the whole number; the same boy will be my son, so and sos son, the son of each of the thousand, or whatever be the number of the citizens; and even about this he will not be positive; for it is impossible to know who chanced to have a child, or whether, if one came into existence, it has survived. But which is betterfor each to say mine in this way, making a man the same relation to two thousand or ten thousand citizens, or to use the word mine as it is now used in states? For usually the same person is called by one man his own son whom another calls his own brother or cousin or kinsmanblood relation or connexion by marriageeither of himself or of some relation of his, and yet another his clansman or tribesman; and how much better is it to be the real cousin of somebody than to be a son after Platos fashion! Nor is there any way of preventing brothers and children and fathers and mothers from sometimes recognizing one another; for children are born like their parents, and they will necessarily be nding indications of their relationship to one another. Geographers declare such to be the fact; they say that in part of Upper Libya, where the women are common, nevertheless the children who are born are assigned to their respective fathers on the ground of their likeness. And some women, like the females of other animalsfor example, mares and cows have a strong tendency to produce offspring resembling their parents, as was the case with the Pharsalian mare called Honest Wife.
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4 Other difculties, against which it is not easy for the authors of such a community to guard, will be assaults and homicides, voluntary as well as involuntary, quarrels and slanders, all of which are most unholy acts when committed

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against fathers and mothers and near relations, but not equally unholy when there is no relationship. Moreover, they are much more likely to occur if the relationship is unknown than if it is known and, when they have occurred, the customary expiations of them can be made if the relationship is known, but not otherwise. Again, how strange it is that Socrates, after having made the children common, should hinder lovers from carnal intercourse only, but should permit love and familiarities between father and son or between brother and brother, than which nothing can be more unseemly, since even without them love of this sort is improper. How strange, too, to forbid intercourse for no other reason than the violence of the pleasure, as though the relationship of father and son or of brothers with one another made no difference. This community of wives and children seems better suited to the husbandmen than to the guardians, for if they have wives and children in common, they will be bound to one another by weaker ties, as a subject class should be, and they will remain obedient and not rebel. In a word, the result of such a law would be just the opposite of that which good laws ought to have, and the intention of Socrates in making these regulations about women and children would defeat itself. For friendship we believe to be the greatest good of states and what best preserves them against revolutions; and Socrates particularly praises the unity of the state which seems and is said by him to be created by friendship. But the unity which he commends would be like that of the lovers in the Symposium, who, as Aristophanes says, desire to grow together in the excess of their affection, and from being two to become one, in which case one or both would certainly perish. Whereas in a state having women and children common, love will be diluted; and the father will certainly not say my son, or the son my father. As a little sweet wine mingled with a great deal of water is imperceptible in the mixture, so, in this sort of community, the idea of relationship which is based upon these names will be lost; there is no reason why the so-called father should care about the son, or the son about the father, or brothers about one another. Of the two qualities which chiey inspire regard and affectionthat a thing is your own and that it is preciousneither can exist in such a state as this. Again, the transfer of children as soon as they are born from the rank of husbandmen or of artisans to that of guardians, and from the rank of guardians into a lower rank, will be very difcult to arrange; the givers or transferrers cannot but know whom they are giving and transferring, and to whom. And the previously mentioned assaults, unlawful loves, homicides, will happen more often among them; for they will no longer call the members of the class they have left brothers, and children, and fathers, and mothers, and will not, therefore, be afraid of com-

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mitting any crimes by reason of consanguinity. Touching the community of wives and children, let this be our conclusion.
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5 Next let us consider what should be our arrangements about property: should the citizens of the perfect state have their possessions in common or not? This question may be discussed separately from the enactments about women and children. Even supposing that the women and children belong to individuals, according to the custom which is at present universal, may there not be an advantage in having and using possessions in common? E.g. (1) the soil may be appropriated, but the produce may be thrown for consumption into the common stock; and this is the practice of some nations. Or (2), the soil may be common, and may be cultivated in common, but the produce divided among individuals for their private use; this is a form of common property which is said to exist among certain foreigners. Or (3), the soil and the produce may be alike common. When the husbandmen are not the owners, the case will be different and easier to deal with; but when they till the ground for themselves the question of ownership will give a world of trouble. If they do not share equally in enjoyments and toils, those who labour much and get little will necessarily complain of those who labour little and receive or consume much. But indeed there is always a difculty in men living together and having all human relations in common, but especially in their having common property. The partnerships of fellow-travellers are an example to the point; for they generally fall out over everyday matters and quarrel about any trie which turns up. So with servants: we are most liable to take offence at those with whom we most frequently come into contact in daily life. These are only some of the disadvantages which attend the community of property; the present arrangement, if improved as it might be by good customs and laws, would be far better, and would have the advantages of both systems. Property should be in a certain sense common, but, as a general rule, private; for, when everyone has a distinct interest, men will not complain of one another, and they will make more progress, because everyone will be attending to his own business. And yet by reason of goodness, and in respect of use, Friends, as the proverb says, will have all things common. Even now there are traces of such a principle, showing that it is not impracticable, but, in well-ordered states, exists already to a certain extent and may be carried further. For, although every man has his own property, some things he will place at the disposal of his friends, while of others he shares the use with them. The Lacedaemonians, for example, use one anothers slaves, and horses, and dogs, as if they were their own; and when

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they lack provisions on a journey, they appropriate what they nd in the elds throughout the country. It is clearly better that property should be private, but the use of it common; and the special business of the legislator is to create in men this benevolent disposition. Again, how immeasurably greater is the pleasure, when a man feels a thing to be his own; for surely the love of self is a feeling implanted by nature and not given in vain, although selshness is rightly censured; this, however, is not the mere love of self, but the love of self in excess, like the misers love of money; for all, or almost all, men love money and other such objects in a measure. And further, there is the greatest pleasure in doing a kindness or service to friends or guests or companions, which can only be rendered when a man has private property. These advantages are lost by excessive unication of the state. The exhibition of two excellences, besides, is visibly annihilated in such a state: rst, temperance towards women (for it is an honourable action to abstain from anothers wife for temperance sake); secondly, liberality in the matter of property. No one, when men have all things in common, will any longer set an example of liberality or do any liberal action; for liberality consists in the use which is made of property. Such legislation may have a specious appearance of benevolence; men readily listen to it, and are easily induced to believe that in some wonderful manner everybody will become everybodys friendespecially when someone is heard denouncing the evils now existing in states, suits about contracts, convictions for perjury, atteries of rich men and the like, which are said to arise out of the possession of private property. These evils, however, are due not to the absence of communism but to wickedness. Indeed, we see that there is much more quarrelling among those who have all things in common, though there are not many of them when compared with the vast numbers who have private property. Again, we ought to reckon not only the evils from which the citizens will be saved, but also the advantages which they will lose. The life which they are to lead appears to be quite impracticable. The error of Socrates must be attributed to the false supposition from which he starts. Unity there should be, both of the family and of the state, but in some respects only. For there is a point at which a state may attain such a degree of unity as to be no longer a state, or at which, without actually ceasing to exist, it will become an inferior state, like harmony passing into unison, or rhythm which has been reduced to a single foot. The state, as I was saying, is a plurality, which should be united and made into a community by education; and it is strange that the author of a system of education which he thinks will make the state virtuous, should expect to improve his citizens by regulations of this sort, and not by philosophy or by customs and laws, like those which prevail at Sparta

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and Crete respecting common meals, whereby the legislator has made property common. Let us remember that we should not disregard the experience of ages; in the multitude of years these things, if they were good, would certainly not have been unknown; for almost everything has been found out, although sometimes they are not put together; in other cases men do not use the knowledge which they have. Great light would be thrown on this subject if we could see such a form of government in the actual process of construction; for the legislator could not form a state at all without distributing and dividing its constituents into associations for common meals, and into phratries and tribes. But all this legislation ends only in forbidding agriculture to the guardians, a prohibition which the Lacedaemonians try to enforce already. But, indeed, Socrates has not said, nor is it easy to decide, what in such a community will be the general form of the state. The citizens who are not guardians are the majority, and about them nothing has been determined: are the husbandmen, too, to have their property in common? Or is each individual to have his own? and are their wives and children to be individual or common? If, like the guardians, they are to have all things in common, in what do they differ from them, or what will they gain by submitting to their government? Or upon what principle would they submit, unless indeed the governing class adopt the ingenious policy of the Cretans, who give their slaves the same institutions as their own, but forbid them gymnastic exercises and the possession of arms. If, on the other hand, the inferior classes are to be like other cities in respect of marriage and property, what will be the form of the community? Must it not contain two states in one, each hostile to the other? He makes the guardians into a mere occupying garrison, while the husbandmen and artisans and the rest are real citizens. But if so the suits and quarrels, and all the evils which Socrates afrms to exist in other states, will exist equally among them. He says indeed that, having so good an education, the citizens will not need many laws, for example laws about the city or about the markets; but then he connes his education to the guardians. Again, he makes the husbandmen owners of the property upon condition of their paying a tribute. But in that case they are likely to be much more unmanageable and conceited than the Helots, or Penestae, or slaves in general. And whether community of wives and property be necessary for the lower equally with the higher class or not, and the questions akin to this, what will be the education, form of government, laws of the lower class, Socrates has nowhere determined: neither is it easy to discover this, nor is their character of small importance if the common life of the guardians is to be maintained. Again, if Socrates makes the women common, and retains private property, the

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men will see to the elds, but who will see to the house? And who will do so if the agricultural class have both their property and their wives in common? Once more: it is absurd to argue, from the analogy of animals, that men and women should follow the same pursuits, for animals have not to manage a household. The government, too, as constituted by Socrates, contains elements of danger; for he makes the same persons always rule. And if this is often a cause of disturbance among the meaner sort, how much more among high-spirited warriors? But that the persons whom he makes rulers must be the same is evident; for the gold which the God mingles in the souls of men is not at one time given to one, at another time to another, but always to the same: as he says, God mingles gold in some, and silver in others, from their very birth; but brass and iron in those who are meant to be artisans and husbandmen. Again, he deprives the guardians even of happiness, and says that the legislator ought to make the whole state happy. But the whole cannot be happy unless most, or all, or some of its parts enjoy happiness. In this respect happiness is not like the even principle in numbers, which may exist only in the whole, but in neither of the parts; not so happiness. And if the guardians are not happy, who are? Surely not the artisans, or the common people. The Republic of which Socrates discourses has all these difculties, and others quite as great. 6 The same, or nearly the same, objections apply to Platos later work, the Laws, and therefore we had better examine briey the constitution which is therein described. In the Republic, Socrates has denitely settled in all a few questions only; such as the community of women and children, the community of property, and the constitution of the state. The population is divided into two classesone of husbandmen, and the other of warriors; from this latter is taken a third class of counsellors and rulers of the state. But Socrates has not determined whether the husbandmen and artisans are to have a share in the government, and whether they, too, are to carry arms and share in the military service, or not. He certainly thinks that the women ought to share in the education of the guardians, and to ght by their side. The remainder of the work is lled up with digressions foreign to the main subject, and with discussions about the education of the guardians. In the Laws there is hardly anything but laws; not much is said about the constitution. This, which he had intended to make more of the ordinary type, he gradually brings round to the other form. For with the exception of the community of women and property, he supposes everything to be the same in both states; there is to be the same education; the citizens of both are to live free from servile occupations, and there are to be common meals in both. The only difference is that in the Laws, the common meals are extended to women, and the warriors number 5000, but in
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the Republic only 1000. The discourses of Socrates are never commonplace; they always exhibit grace and originality and thought; but perfection in everything can hardly be expected. We must not overlook the fact that the number of 5000 citizens, just now mentioned, will require a territory as large as Babylon, or some other huge site, if so many persons are to be supported in idleness, together with their women and attendants, who will be a multitude many times as great. In framing an ideal we may assume what we wish, but should avoid impossibilities. It is said that the legislator ought to have his eye directed to two pointsthe people and the country. But neighbouring countries also must not be forgotten by him, rstly because the state for which he legislates is to have a political and not an isolated life. For a state must have such a military force as will be serviceable against her neighbours, and not merely useful at home. Even if such a life is not accepted, either for individuals or states, still a city should be formidable to enemies, whether invading or retreating. There is another point: Should not the amount of property be dened in some way which differs from this by being clearer? For Socrates says that a man should have so much property as will enable him to live temperately, which is only a way of saying to live well; this is too general a conception. Further, a man may live temperately and yet miserably. A better denition would be that a man must have so much property as will enable him to live not only temperately but liberally; if the two are parted, liberality will combine with luxury; temperance will be associated with toil. For liberality and temperance are the only eligible qualities which have to do with the use of property. A man cannot use property with mildness or courage, but temperately and liberally he may; and therefore the practice of these excellences is inseparable from property. There is an absurdity, too, in equalizing the property and not regulating the number of citizens; the population is to remain unlimited, and he thinks that it will be sufciently equalized by a certain number of marriages being unfruitful, however many are born to others, because he nds this to be the case in existing states. But greater care will be required than now; for among ourselves, whatever may be the number of citizens, the property is always distributed among them, and therefore no one is in want; but, if the property were incapable of division as in the Laws, the supernumeraries, whether few or many, would get nothing. One would have thought that it was even more necessary to limit population than property; and that the limit should be xed by calculating the chances of mortality in the children, and of sterility in married persons. The neglect of this subject, which in existing states is so common, is a never-failing cause of poverty among the citizens; and poverty is the parent of revolution and crime.

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Pheidon the Corinthian, who was one of the most ancient legislators, thought that the families and the number of citizens ought to remain the same, although originally all the lots may have been of different sizes; but in the Laws the opposite principle is maintained. What in our opinion is the right arrangement will have to be explained hereafter. There is another omission in the Laws: Socrates does not tell us how the rulers differ from their subjects; he only says that they should be related as the warp and the woof, which are made out of different wools. He allows that a mans whole property may be increased vefold, but why should not his land also increase to a certain extent? Again, will the good management of a household be promoted by his arrangement of homesteads? for he assigns to each individual two homesteads in separate places, and it is difcult to live in two houses. The whole system of government tends to be neither democracy nor oligarchy, but something in a mean between them, which is usually called a polity, and is composed of the heavy-armed soldiers. Now, if he intended to frame a constitution which would suit the greatest number of states, he was very likely right, but not if he meant to say that this constitutional form came nearest to his rst state; for many would prefer the Lacedaemonian, or, possibly, some other more aristocratic government. Some, indeed, say that the best constitution is a combination of all existing forms, and they praise the Lacedaemonian because it is made up of oligarchy, monarchy, and democracy, the king forming the monarchy, and the council of elders the oligarchy, while the democratic element is represented by the Ephors; for the Ephors are selected from the people. Others, however, declare the Ephorate to be a tyranny, and nd the element of democracy in the common meals and in the habits of daily life. In the Laws it is maintained that the best constitution is made up of democracy and tyranny, which are either not constitutions at all, or are the worst of all. But they are nearer the truth who combine many forms; for the constitution is better which is made up of more numerous elements. The constitution proposed in the Laws has no element of monarchy at all; it is nothing but oligarchy and democracy, leaning rather to oligarchy. This is seen in the mode of appointing magistrates; for although the appointment of them by lot from among those who have been already selected combines both elements, the way in which the rich are compelled by law to attend the assembly and vote for magistrates or discharge other political duties, while the rest may do as they like, and the endeavour to have the greater number of the magistrates appointed out of the richer classes and the highest ofcers selected from those who have the greatest incomes, both these are oligarchical features. The oligarchical principle prevails also in the choice of the council, for all are compelled to choose, but the

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compulsion extends only to the choice out of the rst class, and of an equal number out of the second class and out of the third class, but not in this latter case to all the voters but to those from the third or fourth class; and the selection of candidates out of the fourth class is only compulsory on the rst and second. Then, from the persons so chosen, he says that there ought to be an equal number of each class selected. Thus a preponderance will be given to the better sort of people, who have the larger incomes, because some of the lower classes, not being compelled, will not vote. These considerations, and others which will be adduced when the time comes for examining similar constitutions, tend to show that states like Platos should not be composed of democracy and monarchy. There is also a danger in electing the magistrates out of a body who are themselves elected; for, if but a small number choose to combine, the elections will always go as they desire. Such is the constitution which is described in the Laws.
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7 Other constitutions have been proposed; some by private persons, others by philosophers and statesmen, which all come nearer to established or existing ones than either of Platos. No one else has introduced such novelties as the community of women and children, or public tables for women: other legislators begin with what is necessary. In the opinion of some, the regulation of property is the chief point of all, that being the question upon which all revolutions turn. This danger was recognized by Phaleas of Chalcedon, who was the rst to afrm that the citizens of a state ought to have equal possessions. He thought that in a new colony the equalization might be accomplished without difculty, not so easily when a state was already established; and that then the shortest way of compassing the desired end would be for the rich to give and not to receive marriage portions, and for the poor not to give but to receive them. Plato in the Laws was of the opinion that, to a certain extent, accumulation should be allowed, forbidding, as I have already observed, any citizen to possess more than ve times the minimum qualication. But those who make such laws should remember what they are apt to forgetthat the legislator who xes the amount of property should also x the number of children; for, if the children are too many for the property, the law must be broken. And, besides the violation of the law, it is a bad thing that many from being rich should become poor; for men of ruined fortunes are sure to stir up revolutions. That the equalization of property exercises an inuence on political society was clearly understood even by some of the old legislators. Laws were made by Solon and others prohibiting an individual from possessing as much land as he pleased; and there are other laws in states which forbid the sale of property: among the Locrians, for example, there is a

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law that a man is not to sell his property unless he can prove unmistakably that some misfortune has befallen him. Again, there have been laws which enjoin the preservation of the original lots. Such a law existed in the island of Leucas, and the abrogation of it made the constitution too democratic, for the rulers no longer had the prescribed qualication. Again, where there is equality of property, the amount may be either too large or too small, and the possessor may be living either in luxury or penury. Clearly, then, the legislator ought not only to aim at the equalization of properties, but at moderation in their amount. Further, if he prescribe this moderate amount equally to all, he will be no nearer the mark; for it is not the possessions but the desires of mankind which require to be equalized, and this is impossible, unless a sufcient education is provided by the laws. But Phaleas will probably reply that this is precisely what he means; and that, in his opinion, there ought to be in states, not only equal property, but equal education. Still he should tell us what will be the character of his education; there is no use in having one and the same for all, if it is of a sort that predisposes men to avarice, or ambition, or both. Moreover, civil troubles arise, not only out of the inequality of property, but out of the inequality of honour, though in opposite ways. For the common people quarrel about the inequality of property, the higher class about the equality of honour; as the poet says, The bad and good alike in honour share. There are crimes for which the motive is want; and for these Phaleas expects to nd a cure in the equalization of property, which will take away from a man the temptation to be a robber, because he is hungry or cold. But want is not the sole incentive to crime; men also wish to enjoy themselves and not to be in a state of desirethey wish to cure some desire, going beyond the necessities of life, which preys upon them; indeed this is not the only reasonthey may desire to enjoy pleasures unaccompanied with pain, and therefore they commit crimes. Now what is the cure of these three disorders? Of the rst, moderate possessions and occupation; of the second, habits of temperance; as to the third, if any desire pleasures which depend on themselves, they will nd the satisfaction of their desires nowhere but in philosophy; for all other pleasures we are dependent on others. The fact is, that the greatest crimes are caused by excess and not by necessity. Men do not become tyrants in order that they may not suffer cold; and hence great is the honour bestowed, not on him who kills a thief, but on him who kills a tyrant. Thus we see that the institutions of Phaleas avail only against petty crimes. There is another objection to them. They are chiey designed to promote the
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internal welfare of the state. But the legislator should consider also its relation to neighbouring nations, and to all who are outside of it. The government must be organized with a view to military strength; and of this he has said not a word. And so with respect to property: there should not only be enough to supply the internal wants of the state, but also to meet dangers coming from without. The property of the state should not be so large that more powerful neighbours may be tempted by it, while the owners are unable to repel the invaders; nor yet so small that the state is unable to maintain a war even against states of equal power, and of the same character. Phaleas has not laid down any rule; but we should bear in mind that abundance of wealth is an advantage. The best limit will probably be, that a more powerful neighbour must have no inducement to go to war with you by reason of the excess of your wealth, but only such as he would have had if you had possessed less. There is a story that Eubulus, when Autophradates was going to besiege Atarneus, told him to consider how long the operation would take, and then reckon up the cost which would be incurred in the time. For, said he, I am willing for a smaller sum than that to leave Atarneus at once. These words of Eubulus made an impression on Autophradates, and he desisted from the siege. The equalization of property is one of the things that tend to prevent the citizens from quarrelling. Not that the gain in this direction is very great. For the nobles will be dissatised because they think themselves worthy of more than an equal share of honours; and this is often found to be a cause of sedition and revolution. And the avarice of mankind is insatiable; at one time two obols was pay enough; but now, when this sum has become customary, men always want more and more without end; for it is of the nature of desire to be unlimited, and most men live only for the gratication of it. The beginning of reform is not so much to equalize property as to train the nobler sort of natures not to desire more, and to prevent the lower from getting more; that is to say, they must be kept down, but not ill-treated. Besides, the equalization proposed by Phaleas is imperfect; for he only equalizes land, whereas a man may be rich also in slaves, and cattle, and money, and in the abundance of what are called his movables. Now either all these things must be equalized, or some limit must be imposed on them, or they must all be let alone. It would appear that Phaleas is legislating for a small city only, if, as he supposes, all the artisans are to be public slaves and not to form a supplementary part of the body of citizens. But if there is a law that artisans are to be public slaves, it should only apply to those engaged on public works, as at Epidamnus, or at Athens on the plan which Diophantus once introduced. From these observations any one may judge how far Phaleas was wrong or right in his ideas.

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8 Hippodamus, the son of Euryphon, a native of Miletus, the same who invented the art of planning cities, and who also laid out the Piraeusa strange man, whose fondness for distinction led him into a general eccentricity of life, which made some think him affected (for he would wear owing hair and expensive ornaments; but these were worn on a cheap but warm garment both in winter and summer); he, besides aspiring to be an adept in the knowledge of nature, was the rst person not a statesman who made inquiries about the best form of government. The city of Hippodamus was composed of 10,000 citizens divided into three partsone of artisans, one of husbandmen, and a third of armed defenders of the state. He also divided the land into three parts, one sacred, one public, the third private:the rst was set apart to maintain the customary worship of the gods, the second was to support the warriors, the third was the property of the husbandmen. He also divided laws into three classes, and no more, for he maintained that there are three subjects of lawsuitsinsult, injury, and homicide. He likewise instituted a single nal court of appeal, to which all causes seeming to have been improperly decided might be referred; this court he formed of elders chosen for the purpose. He was further of the opinion that the decisions of the courts ought not to be given by the use of a voting pebble, but that everyone should have a tablet on which he might not only write a simple condemnation, or leave the tablet blank for a simple acquittal; but, if he partly acquitted and partly condemned, he was to distinguish accordingly. To the existing law he objected that it obliged the judges to be guilty of perjury, whichever way they voted. He also enacted that those who discovered anything for the good of the state should be honoured, and he provided that the children of citizens who died in battle should be maintained at public expense, as if such an enactment had never been heard of before, yet it actually exists at Athens and in other places. As to the magistrates, he would have them all elected by the people, that is, by the three classes already mentioned, and those who were elected were to watch over the interests of the public, of strangers, and of orphans. These are the most striking points in the constitution of Hippodamus. There is not much else. The rst of these proposals to which objection may be taken is the threefold division of the citizens. The artisans, and the husbandmen, and the warriors, all have a share in the government. But the husbandmen have no arms, and the artisans neither arms nor land, and therefore they become all but slaves of the warrior class. That they should share in all the ofces is an impossibility; for generals and guardians of the citizens, and nearly all the principal magistrates, must be taken from the class of those who carry arms. Yet, if the two other classes have

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no share in the government, how can they be loyal citizens? It may be said that those who have arms must necessarily be masters of both the other classes, but this is not so easily accomplished unless they are numerous; and if they are, why should the other classes share in the government at all, or have power to appoint magistrates? Further, what use are farmers to the city? Artisans there must be, for these are wanted in every city, and they can live by their craft, as elsewhere; and the husbandmen, too, if they really provided the warriors with food, might fairly have a share in the government. But in the republic of Hippodamus they are supposed to have land of their own, which they cultivate for their private benet. Again, as to this common land out of which the soldiers are maintained, if they are themselves to be the cultivators of it, the warrior class will be identical with the husbandmen, although the legislator intended to make a distinction between them. If, again, there are to be other cultivators distinct both from the husbandmen, who have land of their own, and from the warriors, they will make a fourth class, which has no place in the state and no share in anything. Or, if the same persons are to cultivate their own lands, and those of the public as well, they will have a difculty in supplying the quantity of produce which will maintain two households:8 and why, in this case, should there be any division, for they might nd food themselves and give to the warriors from the same land and the same lots? There is surely a great confusion in all this. Neither is the law to be commended which says that the judges, when a simple issue is laid before them, should make a distinction in their judgement; for the judge is thus converted into an arbitrator. Now, in an arbitration, although the arbitrators are many, they confer with one another about the decision; but in courts of law this is impossible, and, indeed, most legislators take pains to prevent the judges from holding any communication with one another. Again, will there not be confusion if the judge thinks that damages should be given, but not so much as the suitor demands? He asks, say, for twenty minae, and the judge allows him ten minae (or in general the suitor asks for more and the judge allows less), while another judge allows ve, another four minae. In this way they will go on splitting up the damages, and some will grant the whole and others nothing: how is the nal reckoning to be taken? Again, no one contends that he who votes for a simple acquittal or condemnation perjures himself, if the indictment has been laid in an unqualied form; and this is just, for the judge who acquits does not decide that the defendant owes nothing, but that he does not owe the twenty minae. He only is guilty of perjury who thinks that the defendant ought not to pay twenty
8

Reading oikiais.

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minae, and yet condemns him. To honour those who discover anything which is useful to the state is a proposal which has a specious sound, but cannot safely be enacted by law, for it may encourage informers, and perhaps even lead to political commotions. This question involves another. It has been doubted whether it is or is not expedient to make any changes in the laws of a country, even if another law be better. Now, if all changes are inexpedient, we can hardly assent to the proposal of Hippodamus; for, under pretence of doing a public service, a man may introduce measures which are really destructive to the laws or to the constitution. But, since we have touched upon this subject, perhaps we had better go a little into detail, for, as I was saying, there is a difference of opinion, and it may sometimes seem desirable to make changes. Such changes in the other arts and sciences have certainly been benecial; medicine, for example, and gymnastics, and every other art and craft have departed from traditional usage. And, if politics be an art, change must be necessary in this as in any other art. That improvement has occurred is shown by the fact that old customs are exceedingly simple and barbarous. For the ancient Hellenes went about armed and bought their brides from each other. The remains of ancient laws which have come down to us are quite absurd; for examples, at Cumae there is a law about murder, to the effect that if the accuser produce a certain number of witnesses from among his own kinsmen, the accused shall be held guilty. Again, men in general desire the good, and not merely what their fathers had. But the primaeval inhabitants, whether they were born of the earth or were the survivors of some destruction, may be supposed to have been no better than ordinary or even foolish people among ourselves (such is certainly the tradition concerning the earth-born men); and it would be ridiculous to rest contented with their notions. Even when laws have been written down, they ought not always to remain unaltered. As in other sciences, so in politics, it is impossible that all things should be precisely set down in writing; for enactments must be universal, but actions are concerned with particulars. Hence we infer that sometimes and in certain cases laws should be changed; but when we look at the matter from another point of view, great caution would seem to be required. For the habit of lightly changing the laws is an evil, and, when the advantage is small, some errors both of lawgivers and rulers had better be left; the citizen will not gain so much by making the change as he will lose by the habit of disobedience. The analogy of the arts is false; a change in a law is a very different thing from a change in an art. For the law has no power to command obedience except that of habit, which can only be given by time, so that a readiness to change from old to new laws enfeebles the power of the law. Even if we admit that the laws are to be changed, are they all to

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be changed, and in every state? And are they to be changed by anybody who likes, or only by certain persons? These are very important questions; and therefore we had better reserve the discussion of them to a more suitable occasion.
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9 In the governments of Lacedaemon and Crete, and indeed in all governments, two points have to be considered: rst, whether any particular law is good or bad, when compared with the perfect state; secondly, whether it is or is not consistent with the idea and character which the lawgiver has set before his citizens. That in a well-ordered state the citizens should have leisure and not have to provide for their daily wants is generally acknowledged, but there is a difculty in seeing how this leisure is to be attained. The Thessalian Penestae have often risen against their masters, and the Helots in like manner against the Lacedaemonians, for whose misfortunes they are always lying in wait. Nothing, however, of this kind has as yet happened to the Cretans; the reason probably is that the neighboring cities, even when at war with one another, never form an alliance with rebellious serfs, rebellions not being for their interest, since they themselves have a dependent population. Whereas all the neighbours of the Lacedaemonians, whether Argives, Messenians, or Arcadians, were their enemies. In Thessaly, again, the original revolt of the slaves occurred because the Thessalians were still at war with the neighbouring Achaeans, Perrhaebians and Magnesians. Besides, if there were no other difculty, the treatment or management of slaves is a troublesome affair; for, if not kept in hand, they are insolent, and think that they are as good as their masters, and, if harshly treated, they hate and conspire against them. Now it is clear that when these are the results the citizens of a state have not found out the secret of managing their subject population. Again, the license of the Lacedaemonian women defeats the intention of the Spartan constitution, and is adverse to the happiness of the state. For, a husband and a wife being each a part of every family, the state may be considered as about equally divided into men and women; and, therefore, in those states in which the condition of the women is bad, half the city may be regarded as having no laws. And this is what has actually happened at Sparta; the legislator wanted to make the whole state hardy, and he has carried out his intention in the case of the men, but he has neglected the women, who live in every sort of intemperance and luxury. The consequence is that in such a state wealth is too highly valued, especially if the citizens fall under the dominion of their wives, after the manner of most warlike races, except the Celts and a few others who openly approve of male homosexuality. The old mythologer would seem to have been right in uniting Ares and Aphrodite, for all warlike races are prone to the love either of men or of

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women. This was exemplied among the Spartans in the days of their greatness; many things were managed by their women. But what difference does it make whether women rule, or the rulers are ruled by women? The result is the same. Even in regard to boldness, which is of no use in daily life, and is needed only in war, the inuence of the Lacedaemonian women has been most mischievous. The evil showed itself in the Theban invasion, when, unlike the women in other cities, they were utterly useless and caused more confusion than the enemy. This license of the Lacedaemonian women existed from the earliest times, and was only what might be expected. For, during the wars of the Lacedaemonians, rst against the Argives, and afterwards against the Arcadians and Messenians, the men were long away from home, and, on the return of peace, they gave themselves into the legislators hand, already prepared by the discipline of a soldiers life (in which there are many elements of excellence), to receive his enactments. But, when Lycurgus, as tradition says, wanted to bring the women under his laws, they resisted, and he gave up the attempt. These then are the causes of what then happened, and this defect in the constitution is clearly to be attributed to them. We are not, however, considering what is or is not to be excused, but what is right or wrong, and the disorder of the women, as I have already said, not only gives an air of indecorum to the constitution considered in itself, but tends in a measure to foster avarice. The mention of avarice naturally suggests a criticism on the inequality of property. While some of the Spartan citizens have quite small properties, others have very large ones: hence the land has passed into the hands of a few. And this is due also to faulty laws; for, although the legislator rightly holds up to shame the sale or purchase of an inheritance, he allows anybody who likes to give or bequeath it. Yet both practices lead to the same result. And nearly two-fths of the whole country are held by women; this is owing to the number of heiresses and to the large dowries which are customary. It would surely have been better to have given no dowries at all, or, if any, but small or moderate ones. As the law now stands, a man may bestow his heiress on any one whom he pleases, and, if he die intestate, the privilege of giving her away descends to his heir. Hence, although the country is able to maintain 1500 cavalry and 30,000 hoplites, the whole number of Spartan citizens fell below 1000. The result proves the faulty nature of their laws respecting property; for the city sank under a single defeat; the want of men was their ruin. There is a tradition that, in the days of their ancient kings, they were in the habit of giving the rights of citizenship to strangers, and therefore, in spite of their long wars, no lack of population was experienced by them; indeed, at one time Sparta is said to have numbered not less than 10,000 citizens. Whether

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this statement is true or not, it would certainly have been better to have maintained their numbers by the equalization of property. Again, the law which relates to the procreation of children is adverse to the correction of this inequality. For the legislator, wanting to have as many Spartans as he could, encouraged the citizens to have large families; and there is a law at Sparta that the father of three sons shall be exempt from military service, and he who has four from all the burdens of the state. Yet it is obvious that, if there were many children, the land being distributed as it is, many of them must necessarily fall into poverty. The Lacedaemonian constitution is defective also in respect of the Ephorate. This magistracy has authority in the highest matters, but the Ephors are chosen from the whole people, and so the ofce is apt to fall into the hands of very poor men, who, being badly off, are open to bribes. There have been many examples at Sparta of this evil in former times; and quite recently, in the matter of the Andrians, certain of the Ephors who were bribed did their best to ruin the state. And so great and tyrannical is their power, that even the kings have been compelled to court them, so that, in this way as well, together with the royal ofce the whole constitution has deteriorated, and from being an aristocracy has turned into a democracy. The Ephorate certainly does keep the state together; for the people are contented when they have a share in the highest ofce, and the result, whether due to the legislator or to chance, has been advantageous. For if a constitution is to be permanent, all the parts of the state must wish that it should exist and these arrangements be maintained. This is the case at Sparta, where the kings desire its permanence because they have due honour in their own persons; the nobles because they are represented in the council of elders (for the ofce of elder is a reward of excellence); and the people, because all are eligible for the Ephorate. The election of Ephors out of the whole people is perfectly right, but ought not to be carried on in the present fashion, which is too childish. Again, they have the decision of great causes, although they are quite ordinary men, and therefore they should not determine them merely on their own judgement, but according to written rules, and to the laws. Their way of life, too, is not in accordance with the spirit of the constitutionthey have a deal too much license; whereas, in the case of the other citizens, the excess of strictness is so intolerable that they run away from the law into the secret indulgence of sensual pleasures. Again, the council of elders is not free from defects. It may be said that the elders are good men and well trained in manly virtue; and that, therefore, there is an advantage to the state in having them. But that judges of important causes should hold ofce for life is a disputable thing, for the mind grows old as well as the body. And when men have been educated in such a manner that even the

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legislator himself cannot trust them, there is real danger. Many of the elders are well known to have taken bribes and to have been guilty of partiality in public affairs. And therefore they ought not to be non-accountable; yet at Sparta they are so. All magistracies are accountable to the Ephors. But this prerogative is too great for them, and we maintain that the control should be exercised in some other manner. Further, the mode in which the Spartans elect their elders is childish; and it is improper that the person to be elected should canvass for the ofce; the worthiest should be appointed, whether he chooses or not. And here the legislator clearly indicates the same intention which appears in other parts of his constitution; he would have his citizens ambitious, and he has reckoned upon this quality in the election of the elders; for no one would ask to be elected if he were not. Yet ambition and avarice, almost more than any other passions, are the motives of voluntary injustices. Whether kings are or are not an advantage to states, I will consider at another time; they should at any rate be chosen, not as they are now, but with regard to their personal life and conduct. The legislator himself obviously did not suppose that he could make them really good men; at least he shows a great distrust of their virtue. For this reason the Spartans used to join enemies with them in the same embassy, and the quarrels between the kings were held to preserve the state. Neither did the rst introducer of the common meals, called phiditia, regulate them well. The entertainment ought to have been provided at public cost, as in Crete; but among the Lacedaemonians everyone is expected to contribute, and some of them are too poor to afford the expense; thus the intention of the legislator is frustrated. The common meals were meant to be a democratic institution, but the existing manner of regulating them is the reverse of democratic. For the very poor can scarcely take part in them; and, according to ancient custom, those who cannot contribute are not allowed to retain their rights of citizenship. The law about the Spartan admirals has often been censured, and with justice; it is a source of dissension, for the kings are perpetual generals, and this ofce of admiral is but the setting up of another king. The charge which Plato brings, in the Laws, against the intention of the legislator, is likewise justied; the whole constitution has regard to one part of excellence onlythe excellence of the soldier, which gives victory in war. So long as they were at war, therefore, their power was preserved, but when they had attained empire they fell, for of the arts of peace they knew nothing, and have never engaged in any employment higher than war. There is another error, equally great, into which they have fallen. Although they truly think that the goods for which men contend are to be acquired by excellence rather than by vice, they err in supposing

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that these goods are to be preferred to the excellence which gains them. Again, the revenues of the state are ill-managed; there is no money in the treasury, although they are obliged to carry on great wars, and they are unwilling to pay taxes. The greater part of the land being in the hands of Spartans, they do not look closely into one anothers contributions. The result which the legislator has produced is the reverse of benecial; for he has made his city poor, and his citizens greedy. Enough respecting the Spartan constitution, of which these are the principal defects. 10 The Cretan constitution nearly resembles the Spartan, and in some few points is quite as good; but for the most part less perfect in form. The older constitutions are generally less elaborate than the later, and the Lacedaemonian is said to be, and probably is, in a very great measure, a copy of the Cretan. According to tradition, Lycurgus, when he ceased to be the guardian of King Charillus, went abroad and spent most of his time in Crete. For the two countries are nearly connected; the Lyctians are a colony of the Lacedaemonians, and the colonists, when they came to Crete, adopted the constitution which they found existing among the inhabitants. Even to this day the Perioeci are governed by the original laws which Minos is supposed to have enacted. The island seems to be intended by nature for dominion in Hellas, and to be well situated; it extends right across the sea, around which nearly all the Hellenes are settled; and while one end is not far from the Peloponnese, the other almost reaches to the region of Asia about Triopium and Rhodes. Hence Minos acquired the empire of the sea, subduing some of the islands and colonizing others; at last he invaded Sicily, where he died near Camicus. The Cretan institutions resemble the Lacedaemonian. The Helots are the husbandmen of the one, the Perioeci of the other, and both Cretans and Lacedaemonians have common meals, which were anciently called by the Lacedaemonians not phiditia but andria; and the Cretans have the same word, the use of which proves that the common meals originally came from Crete. Further, the two constitutions are similar; for the ofce of the Ephors is the same as that of the Cretan Cosmi, the only difference being that whereas the Ephors are ve, the Cosmi are ten in number. The elders, too, answer to the elders in Crete, who are termed by the Cretans the council. And the kingly ofce once existed in Crete, but was abolished, and the Cosmi have now the duty of leading them in war. All classes share in the ecclesia, but it can only ratify the decrees of the elders and the Cosmi. The common meals of Crete are certainly better managed than the Lacedae-

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monian; for in Lacedaemon every one pays so much per head, or, if he fails, the law, as I have already explained, forbids him to exercise the rights of citizenship. But in Crete they are of a more popular character. There, of all the fruits of the earth the cattle raised on the public lands, and of the tribute which is paid by the Perioeci, one portion is assigned to the gods and to the service of the state, and another to the common meals, so that men, women, and children are all supported out of a common stock. The legislator has many ingenious ways of securing moderation in eating, which he conceives to be a gain; he likewise encourages the separation of men from women, lest they should have too many children, and the companionship of men with one anotherwhether this is a good or bad thing I shall have an opportunity of considering at another time. Thus that the Cretan common meals are better ordered than the Lacedaemonian there can be no doubt. On the other hand, the Cosmi are even a worse institution than the Ephors, of which they have all the evils without the good. Like the Ephors, they are any chance persons, but in Crete this is not counterbalanced by a corresponding political advantage. At Sparta everyone is eligible, and the body of the people, having a share in the highest ofce, want the constitution to be permanent. But in Crete the Cosmi are elected out of certain families, and not out of the whole people, and the elders out of those who have been Cosmi. The same criticism may be made about the Cretan, which has been already made about the Lacedaemonian affairs. Their unaccountability and life tenure is too great a privilege, and their arbitrary power of acting upon their own judgement, and dispensing with written law, is dangerous. It is no proof of the goodness of the institution that the people are not discontented at being excluded from it. For there is no prot to be made out of the ofce as out of the Ephorate, since, unlike the Ephors, the Cosmi, being in an island, are removed from temptation. The remedy by which they correct the evil of this institution is an extraordinary one, suited rather to a dynasty than to a constitutional state. For the Cosmi are often expelled by a conspiracy of their own colleagues, or of private individuals; and they are allowed also to resign before their term of ofce has expired. Surely all matters of this kind are better regulated by law than by the will of man, which is a very unsafe rule. Worst of all is the suspension of the ofce of Cosmi, a device to which the nobles often have recourse when they will not submit to justice. This shows that the Cretan government, although possessing some of the characteristics of a constitutional state, is really a dynasty. The nobles have a habit, too, of setting up a chief; they get together a party among the common people and their own friends and then quarrel and ght with one another. What is this but the temporary destruction of the state and dissolution

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of society? A city is in a dangerous condition when those who are willing are also able to attack her. But, as I have already said, the island of Crete is saved by her situation; distance has the same effect as the prohibition of strangers. This is the reason why the Perioeci are contented in Crete, whereas the Helots are perpetually revolting. For the Cretans have no foreign dominions and, when lately foreign invaders found their way into the island, the weakness of the Cretan constitution was revealed. Enough of the government of Crete.
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11 The Carthaginians are also considered to have an excellent form of government, which differs from that of any other state in several respects, though it is in some very like the Lacedaemonian. Indeed, all three statesthe Lacedaemonian, the Cretan, and the Carthaginiannearly resemble one another, and are very different from any others. Many of the Carthaginian institutions are excellent. The superiority of their constitution is proved by the fact that the common people remains loyal to the constitution; the Carthaginians have never had any rebellion worth speaking of, and have never been under the rule of a tyrant. Among the points in which the Carthaginian constitution resembles the Lacedaemonian are the following:The common tables of the clubs answer to the Spartan phiditia, and their magistracy of the 104 to the Ephors; but, whereas the Ephors are any chance persons, the magistrates of the Carthaginians are elected according to meritthis is an improvement. They have also their kings and their council of elders, who correspond to the kings and elders of Sparta. Their kings, unlike the Spartan, are not always of the same family, nor that an ordinary one, but if there is some distinguished family they are selected out of it and not appointed by senioritythis is far better. Such ofcers have great power, and therefore, if they are persons of little worth, do a great deal of harm, and they have already done harm at Lacedaemon. Most of the defects or deviations from the perfect state, for which the Carthaginian constitution would be censured, apply equally to all the forms of government which we have mentioned. But of the deections from aristocracy and constitutional government, some incline more to democracy and some to oligarchy. The kings and elders, if unanimous, may determine whether they will or will not bring a matter before the people, but when they are not unanimous, the people decide on such matters as well. And whatever the kings and elders bring before the people is not only heard but also determined by them, and anyone who likes may oppose it; now this is not permitted in Sparta and Crete. That the magistracies of ve who have under them many important matters should be co-opted, that they should choose the supreme council of 100, and should hold ofce longer than other mag-

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istrates (for they are virtually rulers both before and after they hold ofce)these are oligarchical features; their being without salary and not elected by lot, and any similar points, such as the practice of having all suits tried by the magistrates, and not some by one class and some by another, as at Lacedaemon, are characteristic of aristocracy. The Carthaginian constitution deviates from aristocracy and inclines to oligarchy, chiey on a point where popular opinion is on their side. For men in general think that magistrates should be chosen not only for their merit, but for their wealth: a man, they say, who is poor cannot rule wellhe has not the leisure. If, then, election of magistrates for their wealth be characteristic of oligarchy, and election for merit of aristocracy, there will be a third form under which the constitution of Carthage is comprehended; for the Carthaginians choose their magistrates, and particularly the highest of themtheir kings and generalswith an eye both to merit and to wealth. But we must acknowledge that, in thus deviating from aristocracy, the legislator has committed an error. Nothing is more absolutely necessary than to provide that the highest class, not only when in ofce, but when out of ofce, should have leisure and not disgrace themselves in any way; and to this his attention should be rst directed. Even if you must have regard to wealth, in order to secure leisure, yet it is surely a bad thing that the greatest ofces, such as those of kings and generals, should be bought. The law which allows this abuse makes wealth of more account than excellence, and the whole state becomes avaricious. For, whenever the chiefs of the state deem anything honourable, the other citizens are sure to follow their example; and, where excellence has not the rst place, there aristocracy cannot be rmly established. Those who have been at the expense of purchasing their places will be in the habit of repaying themselves; and it is absurd to suppose that a poor and honest man will be wanting to make gains, and that a lower stamp of man who has incurred a great expense will not. That is why they should rule who are able to rule best. And even if the legislator does not care to protect the good from poverty, he should at any rate secure leisure for them when in ofce. It would seem also to be a bad principle that the same person should hold many ofces, which is a favourite practice among the Carthaginians, for one business is better done by one man. The legislator should see to this and should not appoint the same person to be a ute-player and a shoemaker. Hence, where the state is large, it is more in accordance both with constitutional and with democratic principles that the ofces of state should be distributed among many persons. For, as I said, this arrangement is fairer to all, and any action familiarized by repetition is better and sooner performed. We have a proof in military and naval matters; the duties of command and of obedience in both these services extend to all.

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The government of the Carthaginians is oligarchical, but they successfully escape the evils of oligarchy by being wealthy, sending out one portion of the people after another to the cities. This is their panacea and the means by which they give stability to the state. This is the result of chance but it is the legislator who should be able to provide against revolution. As things are, if any misfortune occurred, and the bulk of the subjects revolted, there would be no way of restoring peace by legal methods. Such is the character of the Lacedaemonian, Cretan, and Carthaginian constitutions, which are justly celebrated. 12 Of those who have treated of governments, some have never taken any part at all in public affairs, but have passed their lives in a private station; about most of them, what was worth telling has been already told. Others have been lawgivers, either in their own or in foreign cities, whose affairs they have administered; and of these some have only made laws, others have framed constitutions; for example, Lycurgus and Solon did both. Of the Lacedaemonian constitution I have already spoken. As to Solon, he is thought by some to have been a good legislator, who put an end to the exclusiveness of the oligarchy, emancipated the people, established the ancient Athenian democracy, and harmonized the different elements of the state. According to their view, the council of Areopagus was an oligarchical element, the elected magistracy, aristocratic, and the courts of law, democratic. The truth seems to be that the council and the elected magistracy existed before the time of Solon, and were retained by him, but that he formed the courts of law out of all the citizens, thus creating the democracy, which is the very reason why he is sometimes blamed. For in giving the supreme power to the law courts, which are elected by lot, he is thought to have destroyed the non-democratic element. When the law courts grew powerful, to please the people who were now playing the tyrant the old constitution was changed into the existing democracy. Ephialtes and Pericles curtailed the power of the Areopagus; Pericles also instituted the payment of the juries, and thus every demagogue in turn increased the power of the democracy until it became what we now see. All this seems, however, to be the result of circumstances, and not to have been intended by Solon. For the people, having been instrumental in gaining the empire of the sea in the Persian War, began to get a notion of itself, and followed worthless demagogues, whom the better class opposed. Solon, himself, appears to have given the Athenians only that power of electing to ofces and calling to account the magistrates which was absolutely necessary; for without it they would have been in a state of slavery and enmity to the government. All the magistrates he

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appointed from the notables and the men of wealth, that is to say, from the pentacosiomedimni, or from the class called zeugitae, or from a third class of so-called knights. The fourth class were labourers who had no share in any magistracy. Mere legislators were Zaleucus, who gave laws to the Epizephyrian Locrians, and Charondas, who legislated for his own city of Catana, and for the other Chalcidian cities in Italy and Sicily. Some people attempt to make out that Onomacritus was the rst person who had any special skill in legislation, and that he, although a Locrian by birth, was trained in Crete, where he lived in the exercise of his prophetic art; that Thales was his companion, and that Lycurgus and Zaleucus were disciples of Thales, as Charondas was of Zaleucus. But their account is quite inconsistent with chronology. There was also Philolaus, the Corinthian, who gave laws to the Thebans. This Philolaus was one of the family of the Bacchiadae, and a lover of Diocles, the Olympic victor, who left Corinth in horror of the incestuous passion which his mother Halcyone had conceived for him, and retired to Thebes, where the two friends together ended their days. The inhabitants still point out their tombs, which are in full view of one another, but one is visible from the Corinthian territory, the other not. Tradition says the two friends arranged them thus, Diocles out of horror at his misfortunes, so that the land of Corinth might not be visible from his tomb; Philolaus that it might. This is the reason why they settled at Thebes, and so Philolaus legislated for the Thebans, and, besides some other enactments, gave them laws about the procreation of children, which they call the Laws of Adoption. These laws were peculiar to him, and were intended to preserve the number of the lots. In the legislation of Charondas there is nothing distinctive, except the suits against false witnesses. He is the rst who instituted denunciation for perjury. His laws are more exact and more precisely expressed than even those of our modern legislators. (Characteristic of Phaleas is the equalization of property; of Plato, the community of women, children, and property, the common meals of women, and the law about drinking, that the sober shall be masters of the feast; also the training of soldiers to acquire by practice equal skill with both hands, so that one should be as useful as the other.) Draco has left laws, but he adapted them to a constitution which already existed, and there is no peculiarity in them which is worth mentioning, except the greatness and severity of the punishments. Pittacus, too, was only a lawgiver, and not the author of a constitution; he has a law which is peculiar to him, that, if a drunken man do something wrong, he shall

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be more heavily punished than if he were sober; he looked not to the excuse which might be offered for the drunkard, but only to expediency, for drunken more often than sober people commit acts of violence. Androdamas of Rhegium gave laws to the Chalcidians of Thrace. Some of them relate to homicide, and to heiresses; but there is nothing distinctive in them. And here let us conclude our inquiry into the various constitutions which either actually exist, or have been devised by theorists.

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Book III
1 He who would inquire into the essence and attributes of various kinds of government must rst of all determine what a state is. At present this is a disputed question. Some say that the state has done a certain act; others, not the state, but the oligarchy or the tyrant. And the legislator or statesman is concerned entirely with the state, a government being an arrangement of the inhabitants of a state. But a state is composite, like any other whole made up of many partsthese are the citizens, who compose it. It is evident, therefore, that we must begin by asking, Who is the citizen, and what is the meaning of the term? For here again there may be a difference of opinion. He who is a citizen in a democracy will often not be a citizen in an oligarchy. Leaving out of consideration those who have been made citizens, or who have obtained the name of citizen in any other accidental manner, we may say, rst, that a citizen is not a citizen because he lives in a certain place, for resident aliens and slaves share in the place; nor is he a citizen who has legal rights to the extent of suing and being sued; for this right may be enjoyed under the provisions of a treaty. Resident aliens in many places do not possess even such rights completely, for they are obliged to have a patron, so that they do but imperfectly participate in the community, and we call them citizens only in a qualied sense, as we might apply the term to children who are too young to be on the register, or to old men who have been relieved from state duties. Of these we do not say quite simply that they are citizens, but add in the one case that they are not of age, and in the other, that they are past the age, or something of that sort; the precise expression is immaterial, for our meaning is clear. Similar difculties to those which I have mentioned may be raised and answered about disfranchised citizens and about exiles. But the citizen whom we are seeking to dene is a citizen in the strictest sense, against whom no such exception can be taken, and his special characteristic is that he shares in the administration of justice, and in ofces. Now of ofces some are discontinuous, and the same persons are not allowed to hold them twice, or can only hold them after a xed interval; others have no limit of timefor example, the ofce of juryman or member of the assembly. It may, indeed, be argued that these are not magistrates at all, and that their functions give them no share in the government. But surely it is ridiculous to say that those who have the supreme power do not

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govern. Let us not dwell further upon this, which is a purely verbal question; what we want is a common term including both juryman and member of the assembly. Let us, for the sake of distinction, call it indenite ofce, and we will assume that those who share in such ofce are citizens. This is the most comprehensive denition of a citizen, and best suits all those who are generally so called. But we must not forget that things of which the underlying principles differ in kind, one of them being rst, another second, another third, have, when regarded in this relation, nothing, or hardly anything, worth mentioning in common. Now we see that governments differ in kind, and that some of them are prior and that others are posterior; those which are faulty or perverted are necessarily posterior to those which are perfect. (What we mean by perversion will be hereafter explained.) The citizen then of necessity differs under each form of government; and our denition is best adapted to the citizen of a democracy; but not necessarily to other states. For in some states the people are not acknowledged, nor have they any regular assembly, but only extraordinary ones; and law-suits are distributed by sections among the magistrates. At Lacedaemon, for instance, the Ephors determine suits about contracts, which they distribute among themselves, while the elders are judges of homicide, and other causes are decided by other magistrates. A similar principle prevails at Carthage; there certain magistrates decide all causes. We may, indeed, modify our denition of the citizen so as to include these states. In them it is the holder of a denite, not an indenite ofce, who is juryman and member of the assembly, and to some or all such holders of denite ofces is reserved the right of deliberating or judging about some things or about all things. The conception of the citizen now begins to clear up. He who has the power to take part in the deliberative or judicial administration of any state is said by us to be a citizen of that state; and, speaking generally, a state is a body of citizens sufcing for the purposes of life. 2 But in practice a citizen is dened to be one of whom both the parents are citizens (and not just one, i.e. father or mother); others insist on going further back; say to two or three or more ancestors. This is a short and practical denition; but there are some who raise the further question of how this third of fourth ancestor came to be a citizen. Gorgias of Leontini, partly because he was in a difculty, partly in irony, said that mortars are what is made by the mortar-makers, and the citizens of Larissa are those who are made by the magistrates; for it is their trade to make Larissaeans. Yet the question is really simple, for, if according to the denition just given they shared in the government, they were citizens. This is a better denition that the other. For the words, born of a father or mother who is a

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citizen, cannot possibly apply to the rst inhabitants or founders of a state. There is a greater difculty in the case of those who have been made citizens after a revolution, as by Cleisthenes at Athens after the expulsion of the tyrants, for he enrolled in tribes many metics, both strangers and slaves. The doubt in these cases is, not who is, but whether he who is ought to be a citizen; and there will still be a further doubt, whether he who ought not to be a citizen, is one in fact, for what ought not to be is what is false. Now, there are some who hold ofce, and yet ought not to hold ofce, whom we describe as ruling, but ruling unjustly. And the citizen was dened by the fact of his holding some kind of rule or ofcehe who holds a certain sort of ofce fulls our denition of a citizen. It is evident, therefore, that the citizens about whom the doubt has arisen must be called citizens. 3 Whether they ought to be so or not is a question which is bound up with the previous inquiry. For a parallel question is raised respecting the state, whether a certain act is or is not an act of the state; for example, in the transition from an oligarchy or a tyranny to a democracy. In such cases persons refuse to full their contracts or any other obligations, on the ground that the tyrant and not the state, contracted them; they argue that some constitutions are established by force, and not for the sake of the common good. But this would apply equally to democracies, and then the acts of the democracy will be neither more nor less acts of the state in question than those of an oligarchy or of a tyranny. This question runs up into another:on what principle shall we ever say that the state is the same, or different? It would be a very supercial view which considered only the place and the inhabitants (for the soil and the population may be separated, and some of the inhabitants may live in one place and some in another). This, however, is not a very serious difculty; we need only remark that the word state is ambiguous. It is further asked: When are men, living in the same place, to be regarded as a single citywhat is the limit? Certainly not the wall of the city, for you might surround all Peloponnesus with a wall. Babylon, we may say, is like this, and every city that has the compass of a nation rather than a city; Babylon, they say, had been taken for three days before some part of the inhabitants become aware of the fact. This difculty may, however, with advantage be deferred to another occasion; the statesman has to consider the size of the state, and whether it should consist of more than one race or not. Again, shall we say that while the race of inhabitants remains the same, the city is also the same, although the citizens are always dying and being born, as we

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call rivers and fountains the same, although the water is always owing away and more coming? Or shall we say that the generations of men, like the rivers, are the same, but that the state changes? For, since the state is a partnership, and is a partnership of citizens in a constitution, when the form of the government changes, and becomes different, then it may be supposed that the state is no longer the same, just as a tragic differs from a comic chorus, although the members of both may be identical. And in this manner we speak of every union or composition of elements as different when the form of their composition alters; for example, a scale containing the same sounds is said to be different, accordingly as the Dorian or the Phrygian mode is employed. And if this is true it is evident that the sameness of the state consists chiey in the sameness of the constitution, and it may be called or not called by the same name, whether the inhabitants are the same or entirely different. It is quite another question, whether a state ought or ought not to full engagements when the form of government changes.
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4 There is a point nearly allied to the preceding: Whether the excellence of a good man and a good citizen is the same or not. But before entering on this discussion, we must certainly rst obtain some general notion of the excellence of the citizen. Like the sailor, the citizen is a member of a community. Now, sailors have different functions, for one of them is a rower, another a pilot, and a third a look-out man, a fourth is described by some similar term; and while the precise denition of each individuals excellence applies exclusively to him, there is, at the same time, a common denition applicable to them all. For they have all of them a common object, which is safety in navigation. Similarly, one citizen differs from another, but the salvation of the community is the common business of them all. This community is the constitution; the excellence of the citizen must therefore be relative to the constitution of which he is a member. If, then, there are many forms of government, it is evident that there is not one single excellence of the good citizen which is perfect excellence. But we say that the good man is he who has one single excellence which is perfect excellence. Hence it is evident that the good citizen need not of necessity possess the excellence which makes a good man. The same question may also be approached by another road, from a consideration of the best constitution. If the state cannot be entirely composed of good men, and yet each citizen is expected to do his own business well, and must therefore have excellence, still, inasmuch as all the citizens cannot be alike, the excellence of the citizen and of the good man cannot coincide. All must have the excellence of the good citizenthus, and thus only, can the state be perfect; but they will not

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have the excellence of a good man, unless we assume that in the good state all the citizens must be good. Again, the state, as composed of unlikes, may be compared to the living being: as the rst elements into which a living being is resolved are soul and body, as soul is made up of rational principle and appetite, the family of husband and wife, property of master and slave, so of all these, as well as other dissimilar elements, the state is composed; and therefore the excellence of all the citizens cannot possibly be the same, any more than the excellence of the leader of a chorus is the same as that of the performer who stands by his side. I have said enough to show why the two kinds of excellence cannot be absolutely the same. But will there then be no case in which the excellence of the good citizen and the excellence of the good man coincide? To this we answer that the good ruler is a good and wise man, but the citizen need not be wise. And some persons say that even the education of the ruler should be of a special kind; for are not the children of kings instructed in riding and military exercises? As Euripides says: No subtle arts for me, but what the state requires. As though there were a special education needed for a ruler. If the excellence of a good ruler is the same as that of a good man, and we assume further that the subject is a citizen as well as the ruler, the excellence of the good citizen and the excellence of the good man cannot be absolutely the same, although in some cases they may; for the excellence of a ruler differs from that of a citizen. It was the sense of this difference which made Jason say that he felt hungry when he was not a tyrant, meaning that he could not endure to live in a private station. But, on the other hand, it may be argued that men are praised for knowing both how to rule and how to obey, and he is said to be a citizen of excellence who is able to do both well. Now if we suppose the excellence of a good man to be that which rules, and the excellence of the citizen to include ruling and obeying, it cannot be said that they are equally worthy of praise. Since, then, it is sometimes thought that the ruler and the ruled must learn different things and not the same, but that the citizen must know and share in them both, the inference is obvious. There is, indeed, the rule of a master, which is concerned with menial ofcesthe master need not know how to perform these, but may employ others in the execution of them: the other would be degrading; and by the other I mean the power actually to do menial duties, which vary much in character and are executed by various classes of slaves, such, for example, as handicraftsmen, who, as their name signies, live by the labour of their handsunder these the mechanic is included. Hence in ancient times,

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and among some nations, the working classes had no share in the government a privilege which they only acquired under extreme democracy. Certainly the good man and the statesman and the good citizen ought not to learn the crafts of inferiors except for their own occasional use; if they habitually practise them, there will cease to be a distinction between master and slave. But there is a rule of another kind, which is exercised over freemen and equals by birtha constitutional rule, which the ruler must learn by obeying, as he would learn the duties of a general of cavalry by being under the orders of a general of cavalry, or the duties of a general of infantry by being under the orders of a general of infantry, and by having had the command of a regiment and of a company. It has been well said that he who has never learned to obey cannot be a good commander. The excellence of the two is not the same, but the good citizen ought to be capable of both; he should know how to govern like a freeman, and how to obey like a freemanthese are the excellences of a citizen. And, although the temperance and justice of a ruler are distinct from those of a subject, the excellence of a good man will include both; for the excellence of the good man who is free and also a subject, e.g. his justice, will not be one but will comprise distinct kinds, the one qualifying him to rule, the other to obey, and differing as the temperance and courage of men and women differ. For a man would be thought a coward if he had no more courage than a courageous woman, and a woman would be thought loquacious if she imposed no more restraint on her conversation than the good man; and indeed their part in the management of the household is different, for the duty of the one is to acquire, and of the other to preserve. Practical wisdom is the only excellence peculiar to the ruler: it would seem that all other excellences must equally belong to ruler and subject. The excellence of the subject is certainly not wisdom, but only true opinion; he may be compared to the maker of the ute, while his master is like the ute-player or user of the ute. From these considerations may be gathered the answer to the question, whether the excellence of the good man is the same as that of the good citizen, or different, and how far the same, and how far different. 5 There still remains one more question about the citizen: Is he only a true citizen who has a share of ofce, or is the mechanic to be included? If they who hold no ofce are to be deemed citizens, not every citizen can have this excellence; for this man is a citizen. And if none of the lower class are citizens, in which part of the state are they to be placed? For they are not resident aliens, and they are not foreigners. May we not reply, that as far as this objection goes there is no more absurdity in excluding them than in excluding slaves and freedmen from any of the

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above-mentioned classes? It must be admitted that we cannot consider all those to be citizens who are necessary to the existence of the state; for example, children are not citizens equally with grown-up men, who are citizens absolutely, but children, not being grown up, are only citizens on a certain assumption. In ancient times, and among some nations, the artisan class were slaves or foreigners, and therefore the majority of them are so now. The best form of state will not admit them to citizenship; but if they are admitted, then our denition of the excellence of a citizen will not apply to every citizen, nor to every free man as such, but only to those who are freed from necessary services. The necessary people are either slaves who minister to the wants of individuals, or mechanics and labourers who are the servants of the community. These reections carried a little further will explain their position; and indeed what has been said already is of itself, when understood, explanation enough. Since there are many forms of government there must be many varieties of citizens, and especially of citizens who are subjects; so that under some governments the mechanic and the labourer will be citizens, but not in others, as, for example, in so-called aristocracies, if there are any, in which honours are given according to excellence and merit; for no man can practise excellence who is living the life of a mechanic or labourer. In oligarchies the qualication for ofce is high, and therefore no labourer can ever be a citizen; but a mechanic may, for an actual majority of them are rich. At Thebes there was a law that no man could hold ofce who had not retired from business for ten years. But in many states the law goes to the length of admitting aliens; for in some democracies a man is a citizen though his mother only be a citizen; and a similar principle is applied to illegitimate children among many. Nevertheless they make such people citizens because of the dearth of legitimate citizens (for they introduce this sort of legislation owing to lack of population); so when the number of citizens increases, rst the children of a male or a female slave are excluded; then those whose mothers only are citizens; and at last the right of citizenship is conned to those whose fathers and mothers are both citizens. Hence, as is evident, there are different kinds of citizens; and he is a citizen in the fullest sense who shares in the honours of the state. Compare Homers words like some dishonoured stranger;9 he who is excluded from the honours of the state is no better than an alien. But when this exclusion is concealed, then its object is to deceive their fellow inhabitants. As to the question whether the excellence of the good man is the same as that
9

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of the good citizen, the considerations already adduced prove that in some states the good man and the good citizen are the same, and in others different. When they are the same it is not every citizen who is a good man, but only the statesman and those who have or may have, alone or in conjunction with others, the conduct of public affairs.
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6 Having determined these questions, we have next to consider whether there is only one form of government or many, and if many, what they are, and how many, and what are the differences between them. A constitution is the arrangement of magistracies in a state, especially of the highest of all. The government is everywhere sovereign in the state, and the constitution is in fact the government. For example, in democracies the people are supreme, but in oligarchies, the few; and, therefore, we say that these two constitutions also are different: and so in other cases. First, let us consider what is the purpose of a state, and how many forms of rule there are by which human society is regulated. We have already said, in the rst part of this treatise, when discussing household management and the rule of a master, that man is by nature a political animal. And therefore, men, even when they do not require one anothers help, desire to live together; not but that they are also brought together by their common interests in so far as they each attain to any measure of well-being. This is certainly the chief end, both of individuals and of states. And mankind meet together and maintain the political community also for the sake of mere life (in which there is possibly some noble element so long as the evils of existence do not greatly overbalance the good). And we all see that men cling to life even at the cost of enduring great misfortune, seeming to nd in life a natural sweetness and happiness. There is no difculty in distinguishing the various kinds of rule; they have been often dened already in our popular discussions. The rule of a master, although the slave by nature and the master by nature have in reality the same interests, is nevertheless exercised primarily with a view to the interest of the master, but accidentally considers the slave, since, if the slave perish, the rule of the master perishes with him. On the other hand, the government of a wife and children and of a household, which we have called household management, is exercised in the rst instance for the good of the governed or for the common good of both parties, but essentially for the good of the governed, as we see to be the case in medicine, gymnastic, and the arts in general, which are only accidentally concerned with the good of the artists themselves. For there is no reason why the trainer may not sometimes practise gymnastics, and the helmsman is always one of the crew.

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The trainer or the helmsman considers the good of those committed to his care. But, when he is one of the persons taken care of, he accidentally participates in the advantage, for the helmsman is also a sailor, and the trainer becomes one of those in training. And so in politics: when the state is framed upon the principle of equality and likeness, the citizens think that they ought to hold ofce by turns. Formerly, as is natural, everyone would take his turn of service; and then again, somebody else would look after his interest, just as he, while in ofce, had looked after theirs. But nowadays, for the sake of the advantage which is to be gained from the public revenues and from ofce, men want to be always in ofce. One might imagine that the rulers, being sickly, were only kept in health while they continued in ofce; in that case we may be sure that they would be hunting after places. The conclusion is evident: that governments which have a regard to the common interest are constituted in accordance with strict principles of justice, and are therefore true forms; but those which regard only the interest of the rulers are all defective and perverted forms, for they are despotic, whereas a state is a community of freemen. 7 Having determined these points, we have next to consider how many forms of government there are, and what they are; and in the rst place what are the true forms, for when they are determined the perversions of them will at once be apparent. The words constitution and government have the same meaning, and the government, which is the supreme authority in states, must be in the hands of one, or of a few, or of the many. The true forms of government, therefore, are those in which the one, or the few, or the many, govern with a view to the common interest; but governments which rule with a view to the private interest, whether of the one, or of the few, or of the many, are perversions. For the members of a state, if they are truly citizens, ought to participate in its advantages. Of forms of government in which one rules, we call that which regards the common interest, kingship; that in which more than one, but not many, rule, aristocracy; and it is so called, either because the rulers are the best men, or because they have at heart the best interests of the state and of the citizens. But when the many administer the state for the common interest, the government is called by the generic namea constitution. And there is a reason for this use of language. One man or a few may excel in excellence; but as the number increases it becomes more difcult for them to attain perfection in every kind of excellence, though they may in military excellence, for this is found in the masses. Hence in a constitutional government the ghting-men have the supreme power, and those who possess arms are the citizens.
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Of the above-mentioned forms, the perversions are as follows:of kingship, tyranny; of aristocracy, oligarchy; of constitutional government, democracy. For tyranny is a kind of monarchy which has in view the interest of the monarch only; oligarchy has in view the interest of the wealthy; democracy, of the needy: none of them the common good of all. 8 But there are difculties about these forms of government, and it will therefore be necessary to state a little more at length the nature of each of them. For he who would make a philosophical study of the various sciences, and is not only concerned with practice, ought not to overlook or omit anything, but to set forth the truth in every particular. Tyranny, as I was saying, is monarchy exercising the rule of a master over the political society; oligarchy is when men of property have the government in their hands; democracy, the opposite, when the indigent, and not the men of property, are the rulers. And here arises the rst of our difculties, and it relates to the distinction just drawn. For democracy is said to be the government of the many. But what if the many are men of property and have the power in their hands? In like manner oligarchy is said to be the government of the few; but what if the poor are fewer than the rich, and have the power in their hands because they are stronger? In these cases the distinction which we have drawn between these different forms of government would no longer hold good. Suppose, once more, that we add wealth to the few and poverty to the many, and name the governments accordinglyan oligarchy is said to be that in which the few and the wealthy, and a democracy that in which the many and the poor are the rulersthere will still be a difculty. For, if the only forms of government are the ones already mentioned, how shall we describe those other governments also just mentioned by us, in which the rich are the more numerous and the poor are the fewer, and both govern in their respective states? The argument seems to show that, whether in oligarchies or in democracies, the number of the governing body, whether the greater number, as in a democracy, or the smaller number, as in an oligarchy, is an accident due to the fact that the rich everywhere are few, and the poor numerous. But if so, there is a misapprehension of the causes of the difference between them. For the real difference between democracy and oligarchy is poverty and wealth. Wherever men rule by reason of their wealth, whether they be few or many, that is an oligarchy, and where the poor rule, that is a democracy. But in fact the rich are few and the poor many; for few are well-to-do, whereas freedom is enjoyed by all, and wealth and freedom are the grounds on which the two parties claim power in the state.

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9 Let us begin by considering the common denitions of oligarchy and democracy, and what is oligarchical and democratic justice. For all men cling to justice of some kind, but their conceptions are imperfect and they do not express the whole idea. For example, justice is thought by them to be, and is, equality not, however, for all, but only for equals. And inequality is thought to be, and is, justice; neither is this for all, but only for unequals. When the persons are omitted, then men judge erroneously. The reason is that they are passing judgement on themselves, and most people are bad judges in their own case. And whereas justice implies a relation to persons as well as to things, and a just distribution, as I have already said in the Ethics, implies the same ratio between the persons and between the things, they agree about the equality of the things, but dispute about the equality of the persons, chiey for the reason which I have just given because they are bad judges in their own affairs; and secondly, because both the parties to the argument are speaking of a limited and partial justice, but imagine themselves to be speaking of absolute justice. For the one party, if they are unequal in one respect, for example wealth, consider themselves to be unequal in all; and the other party, if they are equal in one respect, for example free birth, consider themselves to be equal in all. But they leave out the capital point. For if men met and associated out of regard to wealth only, their share in the state would be proportioned to their property, and the oligarchical doctrine would then seem to carry the day. It would not be just that he who paid one mina should have the same share of a hundred minae, whether of the principal or of the prots, as he who paid the remaining ninety-nine. But a state exists for the sake of a good life, and not for the sake of life only: if life only were the object, slaves and brute animals might form a state, but they cannot, for they have no share in happiness or in a life based on choice. Nor does a state exist for the sake of alliance and security from injustice, nor yet for the sake of exchange and mutual intercourse; for then the Tyrrhenians and the Carthaginians, and all who have commercial treaties with one another, would be the citizens of one state. True, they have agreements about imports, and engagements that they will do no wrong to one another, and written articles of alliance. But there are no magistracies common to the contracting parties; different states have each their own magistracies. Nor does one state take care that the citizens of the other are such as they ought to be, nor see that those who come under the terms of the treaty do no wrong or wickedness at all, but only that they do no injustice to one another. Whereas, those who care for good government take into consideration political excellence and defect. Whence it may be further inferred that excellence must be the care of a state which is truly so called, and not merely enjoys the name: for without this end the community becomes a

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mere alliance which differs only in place from alliances of which the members live apart; and law is only a convention, a surety to one another of justice, as the sophist Lycophron says, and has no real power to make the citizens good and just. This is obvious; for suppose distinct places, such as Corinth and Megara, to be brought together so that their walls touched, still they would not be one city, not even if the citizens had the right to intermarry, which is one of the rights peculiarly characteristic of states. Again, if men dwelt at a distance from one another, but not so far off as to have no intercourse, and there were laws among them that they should not wrong each other in their exchanges, neither would this be a state. Let us suppose that one man is a carpenter, another a farmer, another a shoemaker, and so on, and that their number is ten thousand: nevertheless, if they have nothing in common but exchange, alliance, and the like, that would not constitute a state. Why is this? Surely not because they are at a distance from one another; for even supposing that such a community were to meet in one place, but that each man had a house of his own, which was in a manner his state, and that they made alliance with one another, but only against evil-doers; still an accurate thinker would not deem this to be a state, if their intercourse with one another was of the same character after as before their union. It is clear then that a state is not a mere society, having a common place, established for the prevention of mutual crime and for the sake of exchange. These are conditions without which a state cannot exist; but all of them together do not constitute a state, which is a community of families and aggregations of families in well-being, for the sake of a perfect and self-sufcing life. Such a community can only be established among those who live in the same place and intermarry. Hence there arise in cities family connexions, brotherhoods, common sacrices, amusements which draw men together. But these are created by friendship, for to choose to live together is friendship. The end of the state is the good life, and these are the means towards it. And the state is the union of families and villages in a perfect and self-sufcing life, by which we mean a happy and honourable life. Our conclusion, then, is that political society exists for the sake of noble actions, and not of living together. Hence they who contribute most to such a society have a greater share in it than those who have the same or a greater freedom or nobility of birth but are inferior to them in political excellence; or than those who exceed them in wealth but are surpassed by them in excellence. From what has been said it will be clearly seen that all the partisans of different forms of government speak of a part of justice only. 10 There is also a doubt as to what is to be the supreme power in the state:

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Is it the multitude? Or the wealthy? Or the good? Or the one best man? Or a tyrant? Any of these alternatives seems to involve disagreeable consequences. If the poor, for example, because they are more in number, divide among themselves the property of the richis not this unjust? No, by heaven (will be the reply), for the supreme authority justly willed it. But if this is not extreme injustice, what is? Again, when in the rst division all has been taken, and the majority divide anew the property of the minority, is it not evident, if this goes on, that they will ruin the state? Yet surely, excellence is not the ruin of those who possess it, nor is justice destructive of a state; and therefore this law of conscation clearly cannot be just. If it were, all the acts of a tyrant must of necessity be just; for he only coerces other men by superior power, just as the multitude coerce the rich. But is it just then that the few and the wealthy should be the rulers? And what if they, in like manner, rob and plunder the peopleis this just? If so, the other case will likewise be just. But there can be no doubt that all these things are wrong and unjust. Then ought the good to rule and have supreme power? But in that case everybody else, being excluded from power, will be dishonoured. For the ofces of a state are posts of honour; and if one set of men always hold them, the rest must be deprived of them. Then will it be well that the one best man should rule? That is still more oligarchical, for the number of those who are dishonoured is thereby increased. Someone may say that it is bad in any case for a man, subject as he is to all the accidents of human passion, to have the supreme power, rather than the law. But what if the law itself be democratic or oligarchical, how will that help us out of our difculties? Not at all; the same consequences will follow. 11 Most of these questions may be reserved for another occasion. The principle that the multitude ought to be in power rather than the few best might seem to be solved and to contain some difculty and perhaps even truth.10 For the many, of whom each individual is not a good man, when they meet together may be better than the few good, if regarded not individually but collectively, just as a feast to which many contribute is better than a dinner provided out of a single purse. For each individual among the many has a share of excellence and practical wisdom, and when they meet together, just as they become in a manner one man, who has many feet, and hands, and senses, so too with regard to their character and thought. Hence the many are better judges than a single man of music and poetry; for some understand one part, and some another, and among them they
10

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understand the whole. There is a similar combination of qualities in good men, who differ from any individual of the many, as the beautiful are said to differ from those who are not beautiful, and works of art from realities, because in them the scattered elements are combined, although, if taken separately, the eye of one person or some other feature in another person would be fairer than in the picture. Whether this principle can apply to every democracy, and to all bodies of men, is not clear. Or rather, by heaven, in some cases it is impossible to apply; for the argument would equally hold about brutes; and wherein, it will be asked, do some men differ from brutes? But there may be bodies of men about whom our statement is nevertheless true. And if so, the difculty which has been already raised, and also another which is akin to itviz. what power should be assigned to the mass of freemen and citizens, who are not rich and have no personal merit are both solved. There is still a danger in allowing them to share the great ofces of state, for their folly will lead them into error, and their dishonesty into crime. But there is a danger also in not letting them share, for a state in which many poor men are excluded from ofce will necessarily be full of enemies. The only way of escape is to assign to them some deliberative and judicial functions. For this reason Solon and certain other legislators give them the power of electing to ofces, and of calling the magistrates to account, but they do not allow them to hold ofce singly. When they meet together their perceptions are quite good enough, and combined with the better class they are useful to the state (just as impure food when mixed with what is pure sometimes makes the entire mass more wholesome than a small quantity of the pure would be), but each individual, left to himself, forms an imperfect judgement. On the other hand, the popular form of government involves certain difculties. In the rst place, it might be objected that he who can judge of the healing of a sick man would be one who could himself heal his disease, and make him wholethat is, in other words, the physician; and so in all professions and arts. As, then, the physician ought to be called to account by physicians, so ought men in general to be called to account by their peers. But physicians are of three kinds:there is the ordinary practitioner, and there is the master physician, and thirdly the man educated in the art: in all arts there is such a class; and we attribute the power of judging to them quite as much as to professors of the art. Secondly, does not the same principle apply to elections? For a right election can only be made by those who have knowledge; those who know geometry, for example, will choose a geometrician rightly, and those who know how to steer, a pilot; and, even if there be some occupations and arts in which private persons share in the ability to choose, they certainly cannot choose better than those who know. So that, according to this argument, neither

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the election of magistrates, nor the calling of them to account, should be entrusted to the many. Yet possibly these objections are to a great extent met by our old answer, that if the people are not utterly degraded, although individually they may be worse judges than those who have special knowledge, as a body they are as good or better. Moreover, there are some arts whose products are not judged of solely, or best, by the artists themselves, namely those arts whose products are recognized even by those who do not possess the art; for example, the knowledge of the house is not limited to the builder only; the user, or, in other words, the master, of the house will actually be a better judge than the builder, just as the pilot will judge better of a rudder than the carpenter, and the guest will judge better of a feast than the cook. This difculty seems now to be sufciently answered, but there is another akin to it. That inferior persons should have authority in greater matters than the good would appear to be a strange thing, yet the election and calling to account of the magistrates is the greatest of all. And these, as I was saying, are functions which in some states are assigned to the people, for the assembly is supreme in all such matters. Yet persons of any age, and having but a small property qualication, sit in the assembly and deliberate and judge, although for the great ofcers of state, such as treasurers and generals, a high qualication is required. This difculty may be solved in the same manner as the preceding, and the present practice of democracies may be really defensible. For the power does not reside in the juryman, or counsellor, or member of the assembly, but in the court, and the council, and the assembly, of which the aforesaid individualscounsellor, assemblyman, jurymanare only parts or members. And for this reason the many may claim to have a higher authority than the few; for the people, and the council, and the courts consist of many persons, and their property collectively is greater than the property of one or of a few individuals holding great ofces. But enough of this. The discussion of the rst question shows nothing so clearly as that laws, when good, should be supreme; and that the magistrate or magistrates should regulate those matters only on which the laws are unable to speak with precision owing to the difculty of any general principle embracing all particulars. But what are good laws has not yet been clearly explained; the old difculty remains. The goodness or badness, justice or injustice, of laws varies of necessity with the constitutions of states. This, however, is clear, that the laws must be adapted to the constitutions. But, if so, true forms of government will of necessity have just laws, and perverted forms of government will have unjust laws.
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12 In all sciences and arts the end is a good, and the greatest good and in the highest degree a good in the most authoritative of allthis is the political science of which the good is justice, in other words, the common interest. All men think justice to be a sort of equality; and to a certain extent they agree with what we have said in our philosophical works about ethics. For they say that what is just is just for someone and that it should be equal for equals. But there still remains a question: equality or inequality of what? Here is a difculty which calls for political speculation. For very likely some persons will say that ofces of state ought to be unequally distributed according to superior excellence, in whatever respect, of the citizen, although there is no other difference between him and the rest of the community; for those who differ in any one respect have different rights and claims. But, surely, if this is true, the complexion or height of a man, or any other advantage, will be a reason for his obtaining a greater share of political rights. The error here lies upon the surface, and may be illustrated from the other arts and sciences. When a number of ute-players are equal in their art, there is no reason why those of them who are better born should have better utes given to them; for they will not play any better on the ute, and the superior instrument should be reserved for him who is the superior artist. If what I am saying is still obscure, it will be made clearer as we proceed. For if there were a superior uteplayer who was far inferior in birth and beauty, although either of these may be a greater good than the art of ute-playing and may excel ute-playing in a greater ratio than he excels the others in his art, still he ought to have the best utes given to him, unless the advantages of wealth and birth contribute to excellence in ute-playing, which they do not. Moreover, upon this principle any good may be compared with any other. For if a given height11 may be measured against wealth and against freedom, height in general may be so measured. Thus if A excels in height more than B in excellence, even if excellence in general excels height still more, all goods will be comparable; for if a certain amount is better than some other, it is clear that some other will be equal. But since no such comparison can be made, it is evident that there is good reason why in politics men do not ground their claim to ofce on every sort of inequality. For if some be slow, and others swift, that is no reason why the one should have little and the others much; it is in gymnastic contests that such excellence is rewarded. Whereas the rival claims of candidates for ofce can only be based on the possession of elements which enter into the composition of a state. And therefore the well-born, or free-born, or rich, may with good reason claim ofce; for holders of ofces must be freemen and
11

Omitting symballoito.

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tax-payers: a state can be no more composed entirely of poor men than entirely of slaves. But if wealth and freedom are necessary elements, justice and valour are equally so; for without the former qualities a state cannot exist at all, without the latter not well. 13 If the existence of the state is alone to be considered, then it would seem that all, or some at least, of these claims are just; but, if we take into account a good life, then, as I have already said, education and excellence have superior claims. As, however, those who are equal in one thing ought not to have an equal share in all, nor those who are unequal in one thing to have an unequal share in all, it is certain that all forms of government which rest on either of these principles are perversions. All men have a claim in a certain sense, as I have already admitted, but not all have an absolute claim. The rich claim because they have a greater share in the land, and land is the common element of the state; also they are generally more trustworthy in contracts. The free claim under the same title as the well-born; for they are nearly akin. For the well-born are citizens in a truer sense than the low-born, and good birth is always valued in a mans own home. Another reason is, that those who are sprung from better ancestors are likely to be better men, for good birth is excellence of race. Excellence, too, may be truly said to have a claim, for justice has been acknowledged by us to be a social excellence, and it implies all others. Again, the many may urge their claim against the few; for, when taken collectively, and compared with the few, they are stronger and richer and better. But, what if the good, the rich, the well-born, and the other classes who make up a state, are all living together in the same city, will there, or will there not, be any doubt who shall rule?No doubt at all in determining who ought to rule in each of the above-mentioned forms of government. For states are characterized by differences in their governing bodiesone of them has a government of the rich, another of the good, and so on. But a difculty arises when all these elements coexist. How are we to decide? Suppose the good to be very few in number: may we consider their numbers in relation to their duties, and ask whether they are enough to administer the state, or so many as will make up a state? Objections may be urged against all the aspirants to political power. For those who found their claims on wealth or family might be thought to have no basis of justice; on this principle, if any one person were richer than all the rest, it is clear that he ought to be ruler of them. In like manner he who is very distinguished by his birth ought to have the superiority over all those who claim on the ground that they are free-born. In an aristocracy a like difculty occurs about excellence; for if one citizen is better than the other members of the government,
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however good they may be, he too, upon the same principle of justice, should rule over them. And if the people are to be supreme because they are stronger than the few, then if one man, or more than one, but not a majority, is stronger than the many, they ought to rule, and not the many. All these considerations appear to show that none of the principles on which men claim to rule and to hold all other men in subjection to them are right. To those who claim to be masters of the government on the ground of their excellence or their wealth, the many might fairly answer that they themselves are often better and richer than the fewI do not say individually, but collectively. And another problem which is sometimes put forward may be met in a similar manner. Some persons doubt whether the legislator who desires to make the justest laws ought to legislate with a view to the good of the better or of the many, when the case which we have mentioned occurs. Now what is right must be construed as equally right, and what is equally right is to be considered with reference to the advantage of the state, and the common good of the citizens. And a citizen is one who shares in governing and being governed. He differs under different forms of government, but in the best state he is one who is able and chooses to be governed and to govern with a view to the life of excellence. If, however, there be some one person, or more than one, although not enough to make up the full complement of a state, whose excellence is so pre-eminent that the excellence or the political capacity of all the rest admit of no comparison with his or theirs, he or they can be no longer regarded as part of a state; for justice will not be done to the superior, if he is reckoned only as the equal of those who are so far inferior to him in excellence and in political capacity. Such a man may truly be deemed a God among men. Hence we see that legislation is necessarily concerned only with those who are equal in birth and in capacity; and that for men of pre-eminent excellence there is no lawthey are themselves a law. Anyone would be ridiculous who attempted to make laws for them: they would probably retort what, in the fable of Antisthenes, the lions said to the hares, when in the council of the beasts the latter began haranguing and claiming equality for all. And for this reason democratic states have instituted ostracism; equality is above all things their aim, and therefore they ostracized and banished from the city for a time those who seemed to predominate too much through their wealth, or the number of their friends, or through any other political inuence. Mythology tells us that the Argonauts left Heracles behind for a similar reason; the ship Argo would not take him because she feared that he would have been too much for the rest of the crew. That is why those who denounce tyranny and blame the counsel which Periander gave to Thrasybulus cannot be held altogether just in

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their censure. The story is that Periander, when the herald was sent to ask counsel of him, said nothing, but only cut off the tallest ears of corn till he had brought the eld to a level. The herald did not know the meaning of the action, but came and reported what he had seen to Thrasybulus, who understood that he was to cut off the principal men in the state; and this is a policy not only expedient for tyrants or in practice conned to them, but equally necessary in oligarchies and democracies. Ostracism is a measure of the same kind, which acts by disabling and banishing the most prominent citizens. Great powers do the same to whole cities and nations, as the Athenians did to the Samians, Chians, and Lesbians; no sooner had they obtained a rm grasp of the empire, than they humbled their allies contrary to treaty; and the Persian king has repeatedly crushed the Medes, Babylonians, and other nations, when their spirit has been stirred by the recollection of their former greatness. The problem is a universal one, and equally concerns all forms of government, true as well as false; for, although perverted forms with a view to their own interests may adopt this policy, those which seek the common interest do so likewise. The same thing may be observed in the arts and sciences; for the painter will not allow the gure to have a foot which, however beautiful, is not in proportion, nor will the ship-builder allow the stern or any other part of the vessel to be unduly large, any more than the chorus-master will allow anyone who sings louder or better than all the rest to sing in the choir. Monarchs, too, may practise compulsion and still live in harmony with their cities, if their own government is for the interest of the state. Hence where there is an acknowledged superiority the argument in favour of ostracism is based upon a kind of political justice. It would certainly be better that the legislator should from the rst so order his state as to have no need of such a remedy. But if the need arises, the next best thing is that he should endeavour to correct the evil by this or some similar measure. The principle, however, has not been fairly applied in states; for, instead of looking to the good of their own constitution, they have used ostracism for factious purposes. It is true that under perverted forms of government, and from their special point of view, such a measure is just and expedient, but it is also clear that it is not absolutely just. In the perfect state there would be great doubts about the use of it, not when applied to excess in strength, wealth, popularity, or the like, but when used against someone who is pre-eminent in excellencewhat is to be done with him? People will not say that such a man is to be expelled and exiled; on the other hand, he ought not to be a subjectthat would be as if mankind should claim to rule over Zeus, dividing his ofces among them. The only alternative is that all should happily obey such a ruler, according to what seems to be the order of nature, and that

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14 The preceding discussion, by a natural transition, leads to the consideration of kingship, which we say is one of the true forms of government. Let us see whether in order to be well governed a state or country should be under the rule of a king or under some other form of government; and whether monarchy, although good for some, may not be bad for others. But rst we must determine whether there is one species of kingship or many. It is easy to see that there are many, and that the manner of government is not the same in all of them. Of kingships according to law, the Lacedaemonian is thought to be the best example; but there the royal power is not absolute, except when the kings go on an expedition, and then they take the command. Matters of religion are likewise committed to them. The kingly ofce is in truth a kind of generalship, sovereign and perpetual. The king has not the power of life and death, except in certain cases, as for instance, in ancient times, he had it when upon a campaign, by right of force. This custom is described in Homer. For Agamemnon puts up with it when he is attacked in the assembly, but when the army goes out to battle he has the power even of life and death. Does he not say: When I nd a man skulking apart from the battle, nothing shall save him from the dogs and vultures, for in my hands is death?12 This, then, is one form of kingshipa generalship for life; and of such kingships some are hereditary and others elective. There is another sort of monarchy not uncommon among foreigners, which nearly resembles tyranny. But this is both legal and hereditary. For foreigners, being more servile in character than Hellenes, and Asiatics than Europeans, do not rebel against a despotic government. Such kingships have the nature of tyrannies because the people are by nature slaves; but there is no danger of their being overthrown, for they are hereditary and legal. For the same reason, their guards are such as a king and not such as a tyrant would employ, that is to say, they are composed of citizens, whereas the guards of tyrants are mercenaries. For kings rule according to law over voluntary subjects, but tyrants over involuntary; and the one are guarded by their fellow-citizens, the others are guarded against them. These are two forms of monarchy, and there was a third which existed in ancient Hellas, called an Aesymnetia. This may be dened generally as an elective tyranny, which, like foreign monarchy, is legal, but differs from it in not being hereditary. Sometimes the ofce was held for life, sometimes for a term of years,
12

Iliad II 391-393.

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or until certain duties had been performed. For example, the Mytilenaeans once elected Pittacus leader against the exiles, who were headed by Antimenides and Alcaeus the poet. And Alcaeus himself shows in one of his banquet odes that they chose Pittacus tyrant, for he reproaches his fellow-citizens for having made the low-born Pittacus tyrant of the spiritless and ill-fated city, with one voice shouting his praises. These forms of government have always had the character of tyrannies, because they possess despotic power; but inasmuch as they are elective and acquiesced in by their subjects, they are kingly. There is a fourth species of kingly monarchythat of the heroic timeswhich was hereditary and legal, and was exercised over willing subjects. For the rst chiefs were benefactors of the people in arts or arms; they either gathered them into a community, or procured land for them; and thus they became kings of voluntary subjects, and their power was inherited by their descendants. They took the command in war and presided over the sacrices, except those which required a priest. They also decided law-suits either with or without an oath; and when they swore, the form of the oath was the stretching out of their sceptre. In ancient times their power extended continuously to all things in city and country and across the border; but at a later date they relinquished several of these privileges, and others the people took from them, until in some states nothing was left to them but the sacrices; and where they retained more of the reality they had only the right of leadership in war beyond the border. These, then, are the four kinds of kingship. First the monarchy of the heroic ages; this was exercised over voluntary subjects, but limited to certain functions; the king was a general and a judge, and had the control of religion. The second is that of foreigners, which is an hereditary despotic government in accordance with law. A third is the power of the so-called Aesymnete; this is an elective tyranny. The fourth is the Lacedaemonian, which is in fact a generalship, hereditary and perpetual. These four forms differ from one another in the manner which I have described. There is a fth form of kingly rule in which one man has the disposal of all, just as each nation or each state has the disposal of public matters; this form corresponds to the control of a household. For as household management is the kingly rule of a house, so kingly rule is the household management of a city, or of a nation, or of many nations. 15 Of these forms we need only consider two, the Lacedaemonian and the absolute royalty; for most of the others lie in a region between them, having less

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power than the last, and more than the rst. Thus the inquiry is reduced to two points: rst, is it advantageous to the state that there should be a perpetual general, and if so, should the ofce be conned to one family, or open to the citizens in turn? Secondly, is it well that a single man should have the supreme power in all things? The rst question falls under the head of laws rather than of constitutions; for perpetual generalship might equally exist under any form of government, so that this matter may be dismissed for the present. The other kind of kingship is a sort of constitution; this we have now to consider, and to run over the difculties involved in it. We will begin by inquiring whether it is more advantageous to be ruled by the best man or by the best laws. The advocates of kingship maintain that the laws speak only in general terms, and cannot provide for circumstances; and that for any science to abide by written rules is absurd. In Egypt the physician is allowed to alter his treatment after the fourth day, but if sooner, he takes the risk. Hence it is clear that a government acting according to written laws is plainly not the best. Yet surely the ruler cannot dispense with the general principle which exists in law; and that is a better ruler which is free from passion than that in which it is innate. Whereas the law is passionless, passion must always sway the heart of man. Yes, it may be replied, but then on the other hand an individual will be better able to deliberate in particular cases. The best man, then, must legislate, and laws must be passed, but these laws will have no authority when they miss the mark, though in all other cases retaining their authority. But when the law cannot determine a point at all, or not well, should the one best man or should all decide? According to our present practice assemblies meet, sit in judgement, deliberate, and decide, and their judgements all relate to individual cases. Now any member of the assembly, taken separately, is certainly inferior to the wise man. But the state is made up of many individuals. And as a feast to which all the guests contribute is better than a banquet furnished by a single man, so a multitude is a better judge of many things than any individual. Again, the many are more incorruptible than the few; they are like the greater quantity of water which is less easily corrupted than a little. The individual is liable to be overcome by anger or by some other passion, and then his judgement is necessarily perverted; but it is hardly to be supposed that a great number of persons would all get into a passion and go wrong at the same moment. Let us assume that they are the freemen, and that they never act in violation of the law, but ll up the gaps which the law is obliged to leave. Or, if such virtue is scarcely attainable by the multitude, we need only suppose that the majority are good men

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and good citizens, and ask which will be the more incorruptible, the one good ruler, or the many who are all good? Will not the many? But, you will say, there may be factions among them, whereas the one man is not divided against himself. To which we may answer that their character is as good as his. If we call the rule of many men, who are all of them good, aristocracy, and the rule of one man kingship, then aristocracy will be better for states than kingship, whether the government is supported by force or not, provided only that a number of men equal in excellence can be found. The rst governments were kingships, probably for this reason, because of old, when cities were small, men of eminent excellence were few. Further, they were made kings because they were benefactors, and benets can only be bestowed by good men. But when many persons equal in merit arose, no longer enduring the pre-eminence of one, they desired to have a commonwealth, and set up a constitution. The ruling class soon deteriorated and enriched themselves out of the public treasury; riches became the path to honour, and so oligarchies naturally grew up. These passed into tyrannies and tyrannies into democracies; for love of gain in the ruling classes was always tending to diminish their number, and so to strengthen the masses, who in the end set upon their masters and established democracies. Since cities have increased in size, no other form of government appears to be any longer even easy to establish. Even supposing the principle to be maintained that kingly power is the best thing for states, how about the family of the king? Are his children to succeed him? If they are no better than anybody else, that will be mischievous. But perhaps the king, though he might, will not hand on his power to his children? That, however, is hardly to be expected, and is too much to ask of human nature. There is also a difculty about the force which he is to employ; should a king have guards about him by whose aid he may be able to coerce the refractory? If not, how will he administer his kingdom? Even if he is the lawful sovereign who does nothing arbitrarily or contrary to law, still he must have some force wherewith to maintain the law. In the case of a limited monarchy there is not much difculty in answering this question; the king must have such force as will be more than a match for one or more individuals, but not so great as that of the people. The ancients observed this principle when they gave guards to anyone whom they appointed Aesymnete or tyrant. Thus, when Dionysius asked the Syracusans to allow him guards, somebody advised that they should give him only such a number. 16 At this place in the discussion there impends the inquiry respecting the king who acts solely according to his own will; he has now to be considered.

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The so-called kingship according to law, as I have already remarked, is not a form of government, for under all governments, as, for example, in a democracy or aristocracy, there may be a general holding ofce for life, and one person is often made supreme over the administration of a state. A magistracy of this kind exists at Epidamnus, and also at Opus, but in the latter city has a more limited power. Now, absolute monarchy, or the arbitrary rule of a sovereign over all the citizens, in a city which consists of equals, is thought by some to be quite contrary to nature; it is argued that those who are by nature equals must have the same natural right and worth, and that for unequals to have an equal share, or for equals to have an unequal share, in the ofces of state, is as bad as for different bodily constitutions to have the same food and clothing. That is why it is thought to be just that among equals everyone be ruled as well as rule, and therefore that all should have their turn. We thus arrive at law; for an order of succession implies law. And the rule of the law, it is argued, is preferable to that of any individual. On the same principle, even if it be better for certain individuals to govern, they should be made only guardians and ministers of the law. For magistrates there must bethis is admitted; but then men say that to give authority to any one man when all are equal is unjust. There may indeed be cases which the law seems unable to determine, but such cases a man could not determine either. But the law trains ofcers for this express purpose, and appoints them to determine matters which are left undecided by it, to the best of their judgement. Further, it permits them to make any amendment of the existing laws which experience suggests. Therefore he who bids the law rule may be deemed to bid God and Reason alone rule, but he who bids man rule adds an element of the beast; for desire is a wild beast, and passion perverts the minds of rulers, even when they are the best of men. The law is reason unaffected by desire. We are told that a patient should call in a physician; he will not get better if he is doctored out of a book. But the parallel of the arts is clearly not in point; for the physician does nothing contrary to rule from motives of friendship; he only cures a patient and takes a fee; whereas magistrates do many things from spite and partiality. And, indeed, if a man suspected the physician of being in league with his enemies to destroy him for a bribe, he would rather have recourse to the book. But certainly physicians, when they are sick, call in other physicians, and training-masters, when they are in training, other training-masters, as if they could not judge truly about their own case and might be inuenced by their feelings. Hence it is evident that in seeking for justice men seek for the mean, for the law is the mean. Again, customary laws have more weight, and relate to more important matters, than written laws, and a man may be a safer ruler than the written law, but not safer than the customary law.

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Again, it is by no means easy for one man to superintend many things; he will have to appoint a number of subordinates, and what difference does it make whether these subordinates always existed or were appointed by him because he needed them? If, as I said before, the good man has a right to rule because he is better, still two good men are better than one: this is the old saying, two going together, and the prayer of Agamemnon, would that I had ten such counsellors! And even now there are magistrates, for example judges, who have authority to decide some matters which the law is unable to determine, since no one doubts that the law would command and decide in the best manner whatever it could. But some things can, and other things cannot, be comprehended under the law, and this is the origin of the vexed question whether the best law or the best man should rule. For matters of detail about which men deliberate cannot be included in legislation. Nor does anyone deny that the decision of such matters must be left to man, but it is argued that there should be many judges, and not one only. For every ruler who has been trained by the law judges well; and it would surely seem strange that a person should see better with two eyes, or hear better with two ears, or act better with two hands or feet, than many with many; indeed, it is already the practice of kings to make to themselves many eyes and ears and hands and feet. For they make colleagues of those who are the friends of themselves and their governments. They must be friends of the monarch and of his government; if not his friends, they will not do what he wants; but friendship implies likeness and equality; and, therefore, if he thinks that his friends ought to rule, he must think that those who are equal to himself and like himself ought to rule equally with himself. These are the principal controversies relating to monarchy. 17 But may not all this be true in some cases and not in others? for there is by nature both a justice and an advantage appropriate to the rule of a master, another to kingly rule, another to constitutional rule; but there is none naturally appropriate to tyranny, or to any other perverted form of government; for these come into being contrary to nature. Now, to judge at least from what has been said, it is manifest that, where men are alike and equal, it is neither expedient nor just that one man should be lord of all, whether there are laws, or whether there are no laws, but he himself is in the place of law. Neither should a good man be

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lord over good men, nor a bad man over bad; nor, even if he excels in excellence, should he have a right to rule, unless in a particular case, at which I have already hinted, and to which I will once more recur. But rst of all, I must determine what natures are suited for government by a king, and what for an aristocracy, and what for a constitutional government. A people who are by nature capable of producing a race superior in the excellence needed for political rule are tted for kingly government; and a people submitting to be ruled as freemen by men whose excellence renders them capable of political command are adapted for an aristocracy: while the people who are suited for constitutional freedom are those among whom there naturally exists a warlike multitude. In the former case the multitude is capable of being ruled by men whose excellence is appropriate to political command; in the latter case the multitude is able to rule and to obey in turn by a law which gives ofce to the well-to-do according to their desert. But when a whole family, or some individual, happens to be so pre-eminent in excellence as to surpass all others, then it is just that they should be the royal family and supreme over all, or that this one citizen should be king. For, as I said before, to give them authority is not only agreeable to that notion of justice which the founders of all states, whether aristocratic, or oligarchical, or again democratic, are accustomed to put forward (for these all recognize the claim of superiority, although not the same superiority), but accords with the principle already laid down. For surely it would not be right to kill, or ostracize, or exile such a person, or require that he should take his turn in being governed. The whole is naturally superior to the part, and he who has this pre-eminence is in the relation of a whole to a part. But if so, the only alternative is that he should have the supreme power, and that mankind should obey him, not in turn, but always. These are the conclusions at which we arrive respecting kingship and its various forms, and this is the answer to the question, whether it is or is not advantageous to states, and to which, and how. 18 We maintain that the true forms of government are three, and that the best must be that which is administered by the best, and in which there is one man, or a whole family, or many persons, excelling all the others together in excellence, and both rulers and subjects are tted, the one to rule, the others to be ruled, in such a manner as to attain the most desirable life. We showed at the commencement of our inquiry that the excellence of the good man is necessarily the same as the excellence of the citizen of the perfect state. Clearly then in the same manner, and by the same means through which a man becomes truly good, he will frame a state that is to be ruled by an aristocracy or by a king, and the same

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education and the same habits will be found to make a good man and a man t to be a statesman or king. Having arrived at these conclusions, we must proceed to speak of the perfect state, and describe how it comes into being and is established. So if we are to inquire in the appropriate way about it, we must. . . .

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1 In all arts and sciences which embrace the whole of any subject, and do not come into being in a fragmentary way, it is the province of a single art or science to consider all that appertains to a single subject. For example, the art of gymnastics considers not only the suitableness of different modes of training to different bodies, but what sort is the best (for the best must suit that which is by nature best and best furnished with the means of life), and also what common form of training is adapted to the great majority of men. And if a man does not desire the best habit of body, or the greatest skill in gymnastics, which might be attained by him, still the trainer or the teacher of gymnastics should be able to impart any lower degree of either. The same principle equally holds in medicine and ship-building, and the making of clothes, and in the arts generally. Hence it is obvious that government too is the subject of a single science, which has to consider what government is best and of what sort it must be, to be most in accordance with our aspirations, if there were no external impediment, and also what kind of government is adapted to particular states. For the best is often unattainable, and therefore the true legislator and statesman ought to be acquainted, not only with that which is best in the abstract, but also with that which is best relatively to circumstances. We should be able further to say how a state may be constituted under any given conditions; both how it is originally formed and, when formed, how it may be longest preserved; the supposed state neither having the best constitution nor being provided even with the conditions necessary for the best, nor being the best under the circumstances, but of an inferior type. We ought, moreover, to know the form of government which is best suited to states in general; for political writers, although they have excellent ideas, are often unpractical. We should consider, not only what form of government is best, but also what is possible and what is easily attainable by all. There are some who would have none but the most perfect; for this many natural advantages are required. Others, again, speak of a more attainable form, and, although they reject the constitution under which they are living, they extol some one in particular, for example the Lacedaemonian. Any change of government which has to be introduced should be one which men, starting from their existing constitutions, will be both willing and able to adopt, since there is quite as much trouble in the

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reformation of an old constitution as in the establishment of a new one, just as to unlearn is as hard as to learn. And therefore, in addition to the qualications of the statesman already mentioned, he should be able to nd remedies for the defects of existing constitutions, as has been said before. This he cannot do unless he knows how many forms of government there are. It is often supposed that there is only one kind of democracy and one of oligarchy. But this is a mistake; and, in order to avoid such mistakes, we must ascertain what differences there are in the constitutions of states, and in how many ways they are combined. The same political insight will enable a man to know which laws are the best, and which are suited to different constitutions; for the laws are, and ought to be, framed with a view to the constitution, and not the constitution to the laws. A constitution is the organization of ofces in a state, and determines what is to be the governing body, and what is the end of each community. But laws are not to be confounded with the principles of the constitution; they are the rules according to which the magistrates should administer the state, and proceed against offenders. So that we must know the varieties, and the number of varieties, of each form of government, if only with a view to making laws. For the same laws cannot be equally suited to all oligarchies or to all democracies, since there is certainly more than one form both of democracy and of oligarchy. 2 In our original discussion about governments we divided them into three true forms: kingly rule, aristocracy, and constitutional government, and three corresponding perversionstyranny, oligarchy, and democracy. Of kingly rule and of aristocracy we have already spoken, for the inquiry into the perfect state is the same thing as the discussion of the two forms thus named, since both imply a principle of excellence provided with external means. We have already determined in what aristocracy and kingly rule differ from one another, and when the latter should be established. In what follows we have to describe the so-called constitutional government, which bears the common name of all constitutions, and the other forms, tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy. It is obvious which of the three perversions is the worst, and which is the next in badness. That which is the perversion of the rst and most divine is necessarily the worst. And just as a royal rule, if not a mere name, must exist by virtue of some great personal superiority in the king, so tyranny, which is the worst of governments, is necessarily the farthest removed from a well-constituted form; oligarchy is little better, for it is a long way from aristocracy, and democracy is the most tolerable of the three. A writer who preceded me has already made these distinctions, but his point
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of view is not the same as mine. For he lays down the principle that when all the constitutions are good (the oligarchy and the rest being virtuous), democracy is the worst, but the best when all are bad. Whereas we maintain that they are in any case defective, and that one oligarchy is not to be accounted better than another, but only less bad. Not to pursue this question further at present, let us begin by determining how many varieties of constitution there are (since of democracy and oligarchy there are several); what constitution is the most generally acceptable, and what is preferable in the next degree after the perfect state; and besides this what other there is which is aristocratic and well-constituted, and at the same time adapted to states in general; and of the other forms of government we must ask to what people each is suited. For democracy may meet the needs of some better than oligarchy, and conversely. In the next place we have to consider in what manner a man ought to proceed who desires to establish some one among these various forms, whether of democracy or of oligarchy; and lastly, having briey discussed these subjects to the best of our power, we will endeavour to ascertain the modes of ruin and preservation both of constitutions generally and of each separately, and to what causes they are to be attributed. 3 The reason why there are many forms of government is that every state contains many elements. In the rst place we see that all states are made up of families, and in the multitude of citizens there must be some rich and some poor, and some in a middle condition; the rich possess heavy armour, and the poor not. Of the common people, some are farmers, and some traders, and some artisans. There are also among the notables differences of wealth and property for example, in the number of horses which they keep, for they cannot afford to keep them unless they are rich. And therefore in old times the cities whose strength lay in their cavalry were oligarchies, and they used cavalry in wars against their neighbours; as was the practice of the Eretrians and Chalcidians, and also of the Magnesians on the river Mander, and of other peoples in Asia. Besides differences of wealth there are differences of rank and merit, and there are some other elements which were mentioned by us when in treating of aristocracy we enumerated the essentials of a state. Of these elements, sometimes all, sometimes the lesser, and sometimes the greater number, have a share in the government. It is evident then that there must be many forms of government, differing in kind, since the parts of which they are composed differ from each other in kind. For a constitution is an organization of ofces, which all the citizens distribute among themselves, according to the power which different classes possess (for example

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the rich or the poor), or according to some principle of equality which includes both. There must therefore be as many forms of government as there are modes of arranging the ofces, according to the superiorities and the differences of the parts of the state. There are generally thought to be two principal forms: as men say of the winds that there are but two, north and south, and that the rest of them are only variations of these, so of governments there are said to be only two formsdemocracy and oligarchy. For aristocracy is considered to be a kind of oligarchy, as being the rule of a few, and the so-called constitutional government to be really a democracy, just as among the winds we make the west a variation of the north, and the east of the south wind. Similarly of musical modes there are said to be two kinds, the Dorian and the Phrygian; the other arrangements of the scale are comprehended under one or other of these two. About forms of government this is a very favourite notion. But in either case the better and more exact way is to distinguish, as I have done, the one or two which are true forms, and to regard the others as perversions, whether of the most perfectly attempered or of the best form of government: the more taut and more overpowering are oligarchical, and the more relaxed and gentler are democratic. 4 It must not be assumed, as some are fond of saying, that democracy is simply that form of government in which the greater number are sovereign, for in oligarchies, and indeed in every government, the majority rules; nor again is oligarchy that form of government in which a few are sovereign. Suppose the whole population of a city to be 1300, and that of these 1000 are rich, and do not allow the remaining 300 who are poor, but free, and in all other respects their equals, a share of the governmentno one will say that this is a democracy. In like manner, if the poor were few and the masters of the rich who outnumber them, no one would ever call such a government, in which the rich majority have no share of ofce, an oligarchy. Therefore we should rather say that democracy is the form of government in which the free are rulers, and oligarchy in which the rich; it is only an accident that the free are the many and the rich are the few. Otherwise a government in which the ofces were given according to stature, as is said to be the case in Ethiopia, or according to beauty, would be an oligarchy; for the number of tall or good-looking men is small. And yet oligarchy and democracy are not sufciently distinguished merely by these two characteristics of wealth and freedom. Both of them contain many other elements, and therefore we must carry our analysis further, and say that the government is not a democracy in which the freemen, being few in number, rule over the many who are not free, as at

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Apollonia on the Ionian Gulf, and at Thera (for in each of these states the nobles, who were also the earliest settlers, held ofce, although they were but a few out of many). Neither is it a democracy when the rich have the government because they exceed in number; as was the case formerly at Colophon, where the bulk of the inhabitants were possessed of large property before the Lydian War. But the form of government is a democracy when the free, who are also poor and the majority, govern, and an oligarchy when the rich and the noble govern, they being at the same time few in number. I have said that there are many forms of government, and have explained to what causes the variety is due. Why there are more than those already mentioned, and what they are, and whence they arise, I will now proceed to consider, starting from the principle already admitted, which is that every state consists, not of one, but of many parts. If we were going to speak of the different species of animals, we should rst of all determine the organs which are indispensable to every animal, as for example some organs of sense and the instruments of receiving and digesting food, such as the mouth and the stomach, besides organs of locomotion. Assuming now that there are only so many kinds of organs, but that there may be differences in themI mean different kinds of mouths, and stomachs, and perceptive and locomotive organsthe possible combinations of these differences will necessarily furnish many varieties of animals. (For animals cannot be the same which have different kinds of mouths or of ears.) And when all the combinations are exhausted, there will be as many sorts of animals as there are combinations of the necessary organs. The same, then, is true of the forms of government which have been described; states, as I have repeatedly said, are composed, not of one, but of many elements. One element is the food-producing class, who are called farmers; a second, the class of artisans who practise the arts without which a city cannot existof these arts some are absolutely necessary, others contribute to luxury or to the grace of life. The third class is that of traders, and by traders I mean those who are engaged in buying and selling, whether in commerce or in retail trade. A fourth class is that of labourers. The military make up the fth class, and they are as necessary as any of the others, if the country is not to be the slave of every invader. For how can a state which has any title to the name be of a slavish nature? The state is independent and self-sufcing, but a slave is the reverse of independent. Hence we see that this subject, though ingeniously, has not been satisfactorily treated in the Republic. Socrates says that a state is made up of four sorts of people who are absolutely necessary; these are a weaver, a farmer, a shoemaker, and a builder; afterwards, nding that they are not enough, he adds a smith, and again a herdsman, to look after the necessary animals; then a

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merchant, and then a retail trader. All these together form the complement of the rst state, as if a state were established merely to supply the necessaries of life, rather than for the sake of the good, or stood equally in need of shoemakers and of farmers. But he does not admit into the state a military class until the country has increased in size, and is beginning to encroach on its neighbours land, whereupon they go to war. Yet even amongst his four original citizens, or whatever be the number of those whom he associates in the state, there must be some one who will dispense justice and determine what is just. And as the soul may be said to be more truly part of an animal than the body, so the higher parts of states, that is to say, the warrior class, the class engaged in the administration of justice, and that engaged in deliberation, which is the special business of political understandingthese are more essential to the state than the parts which minister to the necessaries of life. Whether their several functions are the functions of different citizens, or of the samefor it may often happen that the same persons are both soldiers and farmersis immaterial to the argument. The higher as well as the lower elements are to be equally considered parts of the state, and if so, the military element at any rate must be included. There are also the wealthy who minister to the state with their property; these form the seventh class. The eighth class is that of public servants and of administrators; for the state cannot exist without rulers. And therefore some must be able to take ofce and to serve the state, either always or in turn. There only remains the class of those who deliberate and who judge between disputants; we were just now distinguishing them. If the presence of all these elements, and their fair and equitable organization, is necessary to states, then there must also be persons who have the ability of statesmen. Different functions appear to be often combined in the same individual; for example, the soldier may also be a farmer, or an artisan; or, again the counsellor a judge. And all claim to possess political ability, and think that they are quite competent to ll most ofces. But the same persons cannot be rich and poor at the same time. For this reason the rich and the poor are especially regarded as parts of a state. Again, because the rich are generally few in number, while the poor are many, they appear to be antagonistic, and as the one or the other prevails they form the government. Hence arises the common opinion that there are two kinds of governmentdemocracy and oligarchy. I have already explained that there are many forms of constitution, and to what causes the variety is due. Let me now show that there are different forms both of democracy and oligarchy, as will indeed be evident from what has preceded. For both in the common people and in the notables various classes are included; of the common people, one class are farmers, another artisans; another traders, who

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are employed in buying and selling; another are the sea-faring class, whether engaged in war or in trade, as ferrymen or as shermen. (In many places any one of these classes forms quite a large population; for example, shermen at Tarentum and Byzantium, crews of triremes at Athens, merchant seamen at Aegina and Chios, ferrymen at Tenedos.) To the classes already mentioned may be added daylabourers, and those who, owing to their needy circumstances, have no leisure, or those who are not of free birth on both sides; and there may be other classes as well. The notables again may be divided according to their wealth, birth, excellence, education, and similar differences. Of forms of democracy rst comes that which is said to be based strictly on equality. In such a democracy the law says that it is just for the poor to have no more advantage than the rich; and that neither should be masters, but both equal. For if liberty and equality, as is thought by some, are chiey to be found in democracy, they will be best attained when all persons alike share in the government to the utmost. And since the people are the majority, and the opinion of the majority is decisive, such a government must necessarily be a democracy. Here then is one sort of democracy. There is another, in which the magistrates are elected according to a certain property qualication, but a low one; he who has the required amount of property has a share in the government, but he who loses his property loses his rights. Another kind is that in which all the citizens who are under no disqualication share in the government, but still the law is supreme. In another, everybody, if he be only a citizen, is admitted to the government, but the law is supreme as before. A fth form of democracy, in other respects the same, is that in which not the law, but the multitude, have the supreme power, and supersede the law by their decrees. This is a state of affairs brought about by the demagogues. For in democracies which are subject to the law the best citizens hold the rst place, and there are no demagogues; but where the laws are not supreme, there demagogues spring up. For the people becomes a monarch, and is many in one; and the many have the power in their hand, not as individuals, but collectively. Homer says that it is not good to have a rule of many,13 but whether he means this corporate rule, or the rule of many individuals, is uncertain. At all events this sort of democracy, which is now a monarchy, and no longer under the control of law, seeks to exercise monarchical sway, and grows into a despot; the atterer is held in honour; this sort of democracy is to other democracies what tyranny is to other forms of monarchy. The spirit of both is the same, and they alike exercise a despotic rule over the better citizens. The decrees of the one correspond
13

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to the edicts of the tyrant; and the demagogue is to the one what the atterer is to the other. Both have great powerthe atterer with the tyrant, the demagogue with democracies of the kind which we are describing. The demagogues make the decrees of the people override the laws, by referring all things to the popular assembly. And therefore they grow great, because the people have all things in their hands, and they hold in their hands the votes of the people, who obey them. Further, those who have any complaint to bring against the magistrates say, let the people be judges; the people are happy to accept the invitation; and so the authority of every ofce is undermined. Such a democracy is fairly open to the objection that it is not a constitution at all; for where the laws have no authority, there is no constitution. The law ought to be supreme over all, and the magistracies should judge of particulars, and only this14 should be considered a constitution. So that if democracy be a real form of government, the sort of system in which all things are regulated by decrees is clearly not even a democracy in the true sense of the word, for decrees relate only to particulars. These then are the different kinds of democracy. 5 Of oligarchies, too, there are different kinds: one where the property qualication for ofce is such that the poor, although they form the majority, have no share in the government, yet he who acquires a qualication may obtain a share. Another sort is when there is a qualication for ofce, but a high one, and the vacancies in the governing body are lled by co-optation. If the election is made out of all the qualied persons, a constitution of this kind inclines to an aristocracy, if out of a privileged class, to an oligarchy. Another sort of oligarchy is when the son succeeds the father. There is a fourth form, likewise hereditary, in which the magistrates are supreme and not the law. Among oligarchies this is what tyranny is among monarchies, and the last-mentioned form of democracy among democracies; and in fact this sort of oligarchy receives the name of a dynasty. These are the different sorts of oligarchies and democracies. It should, however, be remembered that in many states the constitution which is established by law, although not democratic, owing to the education and habits of the people may be administered democratically, and conversely in other states the established constitution may incline to democracy, but may be administered in an oligarchical spirit. This most often happens after a revolution; for governments do not change at once; at rst the dominant party are content with encroaching a little upon their opponents. The laws which existed previously continue in force, but the authors of the revolution have the power in their hands.
14

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6 From what has been already said we may safely infer that there are these many democracies and oligarchies. For it is necessary that either all the classes whom we mentioned must share in the government, or some only and not others. When the class of farmers and of those who possess moderate fortunes have the supreme power, the government is administered according to law. For the citizens being compelled to live by their labour have no leisure; and so they set up the authority of the law, and attend assemblies only when necessary. They all obtain a share in the government when they have acquired the qualication which is xed by the law; hence all who have acquired the property qualication are admitted to a share in the constitution. For the absolute exclusion of any class would be oligarchical; but leisure cannot be provided for them unless there are revenues to support them. This is one sort of democracy, and these are the causes which give birth to it. Another kind is based on the distinction which naturally comes next in order; in this, everyone to whose birth there is no objection is eligible, but actually shares in the government only if he can nd leisure. Hence in such a democracy the supreme power is vested in the laws, because the state has no means of paying the citizens. A third kind is when all freemen have a right to share in the government, but do not actually share, for the reason which has been already given; so that in this form again the law must rule. A fourth kind of democracy is that which comes latest in the history of states. For when cities have far outgrown their original size, and their revenues have increased, all the citizens have a place in the government, through the great preponderance of the multitude; and they all, including the poor who receive pay, and therefore have leisure to exercise their rights, share in the administration. Indeed, when they are paid, the common people have the most leisure, for they are not hindered by the care of their property, which often fetters the rich, who are thereby prevented from taking part in the assembly or in the courts, and so the state is governed by the poor, who are a majority, and not by the laws. Such and so many are the kinds of democracy, and they grow out of these necessary causes. Of oligarchies, one form is that in which the majority of the citizens have some property, but not very much; and this is the rst form, which allows to anyone who obtains the required amount the right of sharing in the government. The sharers in the government being a numerous body, it follows that the law must govern, and not individuals. For in proportion as they are further removed from a monarchical form of government, and in respect of property have neither so much as to be able to live without attending to business, nor so little as to need state support, they must admit the rule of law and not claim to rule themselves. But if the men of property in the state are fewer than in the former case, and own more prop-

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erty, there arises a second form of oligarchy. For the stronger they are, the more power they claim, and having this object in view, they themselves select those of the other classes who are to be admitted to the government; but, not being as yet strong enough to rule without the law, they make the law represent their wishes. When this power is intensied by a further diminution of their numbers and increase of their property, there arises a third and further stage of oligarchy, in which the governing class keep the ofces in their own hands, and the law ordains that the son shall succeed the father. When, again, the rulers have great wealth and numerous friends, this sort of family despotism approaches a monarchy; individuals rule and not the law. This is the fourth sort of oligarchy, and is analogous to the last sort of democracy.

7 There are still two forms besides democracy and oligarchy; one of them is universally recognized and included among the four principal forms of government, which are said to be monarchy, oligarchy, democracy, and the so-called aristocracy. But there is also a fth, which retains the generic name of constitutional government; this is not common, and therefore has not been noticed by writers who attempt to enumerate the different kinds of government; like Plato, in their books about the state, they recognize four only. The term aristocracy is rightly applied to the form of government which is described in the rst part of our treatise; for that only can be rightly called aristocracy which is a government formed of the best men absolutely, and not merely of men who are good relative to some hypothesis. In the perfect state the good man is absolutely the same as the good citizen; whereas in other states the good citizen is only good relatively to his own form of government. But there are some states differing from oligarchies and also differing from the so-called constitutional government; these are termed aristocracies, and in them magistrates are certainly chosen both according to their wealth and according to their merit. Such a form of government differs from each of the two just now mentioned, and is termed an aristocracy. For indeed in states which do not make excellence the aim of the community, men of merit and reputation for excellence may be found. And so where a government has regard to wealth, excellence, and the populace, as at Carthage, that is aristocracy; and also where it has regard only to two out of the three, as at Lacedaemon, to excellence and the populace, and the two principles of democracy and excellence temper each other. There are these two forms of aristocracy in addition to the rst and perfect state, and there is a third form, viz. the constitutions which incline more than the so-called constitutional government towards oligarchy.

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8 I have yet to speak of the so-called polity and of tyranny. I put them in this order, not because a polity or constitutional government is to be regarded as a perversion any more than the above-mentioned aristocracies. The truth is, that they all fall short of the most perfect form of government, and so they are reckoned among perversions, and the really perverted forms are perversions of these, as I said in the original discussion. Last of all I will speak of tyranny, which I place last in the series because I am inquiring into the constitutions of states, and this is the very reverse of a constitution. Having explained why I have adopted this order, I will proceed to consider constitutional government; of which the nature will be clearer now that oligarchy and democracy have been dened. For polity or constitutional government may be described generally as a fusion of oligarchy and democracy; but the term is usually applied to those forms of government which incline towards democracy, and the term aristocracy to those which incline towards oligarchy, because birth and education are commonly the accompaniments of wealth. Moreover, the rich already possess the external advantages the want of which is a temptation to crime, and hence they are called noblemen and gentlemen. And inasmuch as aristocracy seeks to give predominance to the best of the citizens, people say also of oligarchies that they are composed of noblemen and gentlemen. Now it appears to be an impossible thing that the state which is governed not by the best citizens but by the worst should be well-governed, and equally impossible that the state which is ill-governed should be governed by the best. But we must remember that good laws, if they are not obeyed, do not constitute good government. Hence there are two parts of good government; one is the actual obedience of citizens to the laws, the other part is the goodness of the laws which they obey; they may obey bad laws as well as good. And there may be a further subdivision; they may obey either the best laws which are attainable to them, or the best absolutely. The distribution of ofces according to excellence is a special characteristic of aristocracy, for the principle of an aristocracy is excellence, as wealth is of an oligarchy, and freedom of a democracy. In all of them there of course exists the right of the majority, and whatever seems good to the majority of those who share in the government has authority, whether in an oligarchy, an aristocracy or a democracy. Now in most states the form called polity exists, for the fusion goes no further than the attempt to unite the freedom of the poor and the wealth of the rich, who commonly take the place of the noble. But as there are three grounds on which men claim an equal share in the government, freedom, wealth, and excellence (for the fourth, what is called good birth, is the result of the two last, being only ancient wealth and excellence), it is clear that the admixture of

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the two elements, that is to say, of the rich and poor, is to be called a polity or constitutional government; and the union of the three is to be called aristocracy, and more than any other form of government, except the true and ideal, has a right to this name. Thus far I have shown the existence of forms of states other than monarchy, democracy, and oligarchy, and what they are, and in what aristocracies differ from one another, and polities from aristocraciesthat the two latter are not very unlike is obvious. 9 Next we have to consider how by the side of oligarchy and democracy the so-called polity or constitutional government springs up, and how it should be organized. The nature of it will be at once understood from a comparison of oligarchy and democracy; we must ascertain their different characteristics, and taking a portion from each, t the two together, like the parts of a tally-stick. Now there are three modes in which fusions of government may be effected. In the rst mode we must combine the laws made by both governments, say concerning the administration of justice. In oligarchies they impose a ne on the rich if they do not serve as judges, and to the poor they give no pay; but in democracies they give pay to the poor and do not ne the rich. Now the union of these two modes is a common or middle term between them, and is therefore characteristic of a constitutional government, for it is a combination of both. This is one mode of uniting the two elements. Or a mean may be taken between the enactments of the two: thus democracies require no property qualication, or only a small one, from members of the assembly, oligarchies a high one; here neither of these is the common term, but a mean between them. There is a third mode, in which something is borrowed from the oligarchical and something from the democratic principle. For example, the appointment of magistrates by lot is thought to be democratic, and the election of them oligarchical; democratic again when there is no property qualication, oligarchical when there is. In the aristocratic or constitutional state, one element will be taken from eachfrom oligarchy the principle of electing to ofces, from democracy the disregard of qualication. Such are the various modes of combination. There is a true union of oligarchy and democracy when the same state may be termed either a democracy or an oligarchy; those who use both names evidently feel that the fusion is complete. Such a fusion there is also in the mean; for both extremes appear in it. The Lacedaemonian constitution, for example, is often described as a democracy, because it has many democratic features. In the rst place the youth receive a democratic education. For the sons of the poor are

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brought up with the sons of the rich, who are educated in such a manner as to make it possible for the sons of the poor to be educated like them. A similar equality prevails in the following period of life, and when the citizens are grown up to manhood the same rule is observed; there is no distinction between the rich and poor. In like manner they all have the same food at their public tables, and the rich wear only such clothing as any poor man can afford. Again, the people elect to one of the two greatest ofces of state, and in the other they share; for they elect the Senators and share in the Ephoralty. By others the Spartan constitution is said to be an oligarchy, because it has many oligarchical elements. That all ofces are lled by election and none by lot, is one of these oligarchical characteristics; that the power of inicting death or banishment rests with a few persons is another; and there are others. In a well attempered polity there should appear to be both elements and yet neither; also the government should rely on itself, and not on foreign aid, and on itself not through the good will of a majority15 they might be equally well-disposed when there is a vicious form of governmentbut through the general willingness of all classes in the state to maintain the constitution. Enough of the manner in which a constitutional government, and in which the so-called aristocracies, ought to be framed. 10 Of the nature of tyranny I have still to speak, in order that it may have its place in our inquiry (since even tyranny is reckoned by us to be a form of government), although there is not much to be said about it. I have already in the former part of this treatise discussed royalty or kingship according to the most usual meaning of the term, and considered whether it is or is not advantageous to states, and what kind of royalty should be established, and from what source, and how. When speaking of royalty we also spoke of two forms of tyranny, which are both according to law, and therefore easily pass into royalty. Among Barbarians there are elected monarchs who exercise a despotic power; despotic rulers were also elected in ancient Greece, called Aesymnetes. These monarchies, when compared with one another, exhibit certain differences. And they are, as I said before, royal, in so far as the monarch rules according to law over willing subjects; but they are tyrannical in so far as he is despotic and rules according to his own fancy. There is also a third kind of tyranny, which is the most typical form, and is the counterpart of the perfect monarchy. This tyranny is just that arbitrary power of an individual which is responsible to no one, and governs all alike, whether equals or
15

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Omitting exothen.

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betters, with a view to its own advantage, not to that of its subjects, and therefore against their will. No freeman willingly endures such a government. The kinds of tyranny are such and so many, and for the reasons which I have given. 11 We have now to inquire what is the best constitution for most states, and the best life for most men, neither assuming a standard of excellence which is above ordinary persons, nor an education which is exceptionally favoured by nature and circumstances, nor yet an ideal state which is an aspiration only, but having regard to the life in which the majority are able to share, and to the form of government which states in general can attain. As to those aristocracies, as they are called, of which we were just now speaking, they either lie beyond the possibilities of the greater number of states, or they approximate to the so-called constitutional government, and therefore need no separate discussion. And in fact the conclusion at which we arrive respecting all these forms rests upon the same grounds. For if what was said in the Ethics is true, that the happy life is the life according to excellence lived without impediment, and that excellence is a mean, then the life which is in a mean, and in a mean attainable by everyone, must be the best. And the same principles of excellence and badness are characteristic of cities and of constitutions; for the constitution is so to speak the life of the city. Now in all states there are three elements: one class is very rich, another very poor, and a third in a mean. It is admitted that moderation and the mean are best, and therefore it will clearly be best to possess the gifts of fortune in moderation; for in that condition of life men are most ready to follow rational principle. But he who greatly excels in beauty, strength, birth, or wealth, or on the other hand who is very poor, or very weak, or of very low status, nds it difcult to follow rational principle. Of these two the one sort grow into violent and great criminals, the others into rogues and petty rascals. And two sorts of offences correspond to them, the one committed from violence, the other from roguery [Again, the middle class is least likely to shrink from rule, or to be over-ambitious for it],16 both of which are injuries to the state. Again, those who have too much of the goods of fortune, strength, wealth, friends, and the like, are neither willing nor able to submit to authority. The evil begins at home; for when they are boys, by reason of the luxury in which they are brought up, they never learn, even at school, the habit of obedience. On the other hand, the very poor, who are in the opposite extreme, are too degraded. So that the one class cannot obey, and can
16

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only rule despotically; the other knows not how to command and must be ruled like slaves. Thus arises a city, not of freemen, but of masters and slaves, the one despising, the other envying; and nothing can be more fatal to friendship and good fellowship in states than this: for good fellowship springs from friendship; when men are at enmity with one another, they would rather not even share the same path. But a city ought to be composed, as far as possible, of equals and similars; and these are generally the middle classes. Wherefore the city which is composed of middle-class citizens is necessarily best constituted in respect of the elements of which we say the fabric of the state naturally consists. And this is the class of citizens which is most secure in a state, for they do not, like the poor, covet other mens goods; nor do others covet theirs, as the poor covet the goods of the rich; and as they neither plot against others, nor are themselves plotted against, they pass through life safely. Wisely then did Phocylides prayMany things are best in the mean; I desire to be of a middle condition in my city. Thus it is manifest that the best political community is formed by citizens of the middle class, and that those states are likely to be well-administered in which the middle class is large, and stronger if possible than both the other classes, or at any rate than either singly; for the addition of the middle class turns the scale, and prevents either of the extremes from being dominant. Great then is the good fortune of a state in which the citizens have a moderate and sufcient property; for where some possess much, and the others nothing, there may arise an extreme democracy, or a pure oligarchy; or a tyranny may grow out of either extreme either out of the most rampant democracy, or out of an oligarchy; but it is not so likely to arise out of the middle constitutions and those akin to them. I will explain the reason for this hereafter, when I speak of the revolutions of states. The mean condition of states is clearly best, for no other is free from faction; and where the middle class is large, there are least likely to be factions and dissensions. For a similar reason large states are less liable to faction than small ones, because in them the middle class is large; whereas in small states it is easy to divide all the citizens into two classes who are either rich or poor, and to leave nothing in the middle. And democracies are safer and more permanent than oligarchies, because they have a middle class which is more numerous and has a greater share in the government; for when there is no middle class, and the poor are excessive in number, troubles arise, and the state soon comes to an end. A proof of the superiority of the middle class is that the best legislators have been of a middle condition; for example, Solon, as his own verses testify; and Lycurgus, for he was not a king; and Charondas, and almost all legislators. These considerations will help us to understand why most governments are

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either democratic or oligarchical. The reason is that the middle class is seldom numerous in them, and whichever party, whether the rich or the common people, transgresses the mean and predominates, draws the constitution its own way, and thus arises either oligarchy or democracy. There is another reasonthe poor and the rich quarrel with one another, and whichever side gets the better, instead of establishing a just or popular government, regards political supremacy as the prize of victory, and the one party sets up a democracy and the other an oligarchy. Further, both the parties which had the supremacy in Greece looked only to the interest of their own form of government, and established in states, the one, democracies, and the other, oligarchies; they thought of their own advantage, and of the advantage of the other states not at all. For these reasons the middle form of government has rarely, if ever, existed, and among a very few only. One man alone of all who ever ruled in Greece was induced to give this middle constitution to states. But it has now become a habit among the citizens of states not even to care about equality; all men are seeking for dominion, or, if conquered, are willing to submit. What then is the best form of government, and what makes it the best, is evident; and of other constitutions, since we say that there are many kinds of democracy and many of oligarchy, it is not difcult to see which has the rst and which the second or any other place in the order of excellence, now that we have determined which is the best. For that which is nearest to the best must of necessity be better, and that which is further from the mean worse, if we are judging absolutely and not relatively to given conditions: I say relatively to given conditions, since a particular government may be preferable, but another form may be better for some people. 12 We have now to consider what and what kind of government is suitable to what and what kind of men. I may begin by assuming, as a general principle common to all governments, that the portion of the state which desires the permanence of the constitution ought to be stronger than that which desires the reverse. Now every city is composed of quality and quantity. By quality I mean freedom, wealth, education, good birth, and by quantity, superiority of numbers. Quality may exist in one of the classes which make up the state, and quantity in the other. For example, the meanly-born may be more in number than the wellborn, or the poor than the rich, yet they may not so much exceed in quantity as they fall short in quality; and therefore there must be a comparison of quantity and quality. Where the number of the poor exceeds a given proportion, there will naturally be a democracy, varying in form with the sort of people who compose it in each case. If, for example, the farmers exceed in number, the rst form of

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democracy will then arise; if the artisans and labouring class, the last; and so with the intermediate forms. But where the rich and the notables exceed in quality more than they fall short in quantity, there oligarchy arises, similarly assuming various forms according to the kind of superiority possessed by the oligarchs. The legislator should always include the middle class in his government; if he makes his laws oligarchical, let him look to the middle class; if he makes them democratic, he should equally by his laws try to attach this class to the state. There only can the government ever be stable where the middle class exceeds one or both of the others, and in that case there will be no fear that the rich will unite with the poor against the rulers. For neither of them will ever be willing to serve the other, and if they look for some form of government more suitable to both, they will nd none better than this, for the rich and the poor will never consent to rule in turn, because they mistrust one another. The arbiter is always the one most trusted, and he who is in the middle is an arbiter. The more perfect the admixture of the political elements, the more lasting will be the constitution. Many even of those who desire to form aristocratic governments make a mistake, not only in giving too much power to the rich, but in attempting to cheat the people. There comes a time when out of a false good there arises a true evil, since the encroachments of the rich are more destructive to the constitution than those of the people. 13 The devices by which oligarchies deceive the people are ve in number; they relate to the assembly; the magistracies; the courts of law; the use of arms; and gymnastic exercises. The assemblies are thrown open to all, but either the rich only are ned for non-attendance, or a much larger ne is inicted upon them. As to the magistracies, those who are qualied by property cannot decline ofce upon oath, but the poor may. In the law-courts the rich, and the rich only, are ned if they do not serve, the poor are let off with impunity, or, as in the laws of Charondas, a larger ne is inicted on the rich, and a smaller one on the poor. In some states all citizens who have registered themselves are allowed to attend the assembly and to try causes; but if after registration they do not attend either in the assembly or at the courts, heavy nes are imposed upon them. The intention is that through fear of the nes they may avoid registering themselves, and then they cannot sit in the law-courts or in the assembly. Concerning the possession of arms, and gymnastic exercises, they legislate in a similar spirit. For the poor are not obliged to have arms, but the rich are ned for not having them; and in like manner no penalty is inicted on the poor for non-attendance at the gymnasium, and consequently, having nothing to fear, they do not attend, whereas the rich are liable to a ne, and therefore they take care to attend.

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These are the devices of oligarchical legislators, and in democracies they have counter-devices. They pay the poor for attending the assemblies and the lawcourts, and they inict no penalty on the rich for non-attendance. It is obvious that he who would duly mix the two principles should combine the practice of both, and provide that the poor should be paid to attend, and the rich ned if they do not attend, for then all will take part; if there is no such combination, power will be in the hands of one party only. The government should be conned to those who carry arms. As to the property qualication, no absolute rule can be laid down, but we must see what is the highest qualication sufciently comprehensive to secure that the number of those who have the rights of citizens exceeds the number of those excluded. Even if they have no share in ofce, the poor, provided only that they are not outraged or deprived of their property, will be quiet enough. But to secure gentle treatment for the poor is not an easy thing, since a ruling class is not always humane. And in time of war the poor are apt to hesitate unless they are fed; when fed, they are willing enough to ght. In some states the government is vested, not only in those who are actually serving, but also in those who have served; among the Malians, for example, the governing body consisted of the latter, while the magistrates were chosen from those actually on service. And the earliest government which existed among the Greeks, after the overthrow of the kingly power, grew up out of the warrior class, and was originally taken from the knights (for strength and superiority in war at that time depended on cavalry; indeed, without discipline, infantry are useless, and in ancient times there was no military knowledge or tactics, and therefore the strength of armies lay in their cavalry). But when cities increased and the heavy-armed grew in strength, more had a share in the government; and this is the reason why the states which we call constitutional governments have been hitherto called democracies. Ancient constitutions, as might be expected, were oligarchical and royal; their population being small they had no considerable middle class; the people were weak in numbers and organization, and were therefore more content to be governed. I have explained why there are various forms of government, and why there are more than is generally supposed; for democracy, as well as other constitutions, has more than one form: also what their differences are, and whence they arise, and what is the best form of government, speaking generally, and to whom the various forms of government are best suited; all this has now been explained. 14 Having thus gained an appropriate basis of discussion we will proceed to speak of the points which follow next in order. We will consider the subject not only in general but with reference to particular constitutions. All constitutions

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have three elements, concerning which the good lawgiver has to regard what is expedient for each constitution. When they are well-ordered, the constitution is well-ordered, and as they differ from one another, constitutions differ. There is one element which deliberates about public affairs; secondly that concerned with the magistraciesthe questions being, what they should be, over what they should exercise authority, and what should be the mode of electing to them; and thirdly that which has judicial power. The deliberative element has authority in matters of war and peace, in making and unmaking alliances; it passes laws, inicts death, exile, conscation, elects magistrates and audits their accounts. These powers must be assigned either all to all the citizens or all to some of them (for example, to one or more magistracies, or different causes to different magistracies), or some of them to all, and others of them only to some. That all things should be decided by all is characteristic of democracy; this is the sort of equality which the people desire. But there are various ways in which all may share in the government; they may deliberate, not all in one body, but by turns, as in the constitution of Telecles the Milesian. There are other constitutions in which the boards of magistrates meet and deliberate, but come into ofce by turns, and are elected out of the tribes and the very smallest divisions of the state, until every one has obtained ofce in his turn. The citizens, on the other hand, are assembled only for the purposes of legislation, and to consult about the constitution, and to hear the edicts of the magistrates. In another variety of democracy the citizens form one assembly, but meet only to elect magistrates, to pass laws, to advise about war and peace, and to make scrutinies. Other matters are referred severally to special magistrates, who are elected by vote or by lot out of all the citizens. Or again, the citizens meet about election to ofces and about scrutinies, and deliberate concerning war or alliances while other matters are administered by the magistrates, who, as far as is possible, are elected by vote. I am speaking of those magistracies in which special knowledge is required. A fourth form of democracy is when all the citizens meet to deliberate about everything, and the magistrates decide nothing, but only make the preliminary inquiries; and that is the way in which the last form of democracy, corresponding, as we maintain, to the close family oligarchy and to tyranny, is at present administered. All these modes are democratic. On the other hand, that some should deliberate about all is oligarchical. This again is a mode which, like the democratic, has many forms. When the deliberative class being elected out of those who have a moderate qualication are numerous and they respect and obey the prohibitions of the law without altering it, and anyone who has the required qualication shares in the government, then,

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just because of this moderation, the oligarchy inclines towards polity. But when only selected individuals and not the whole people share in the deliberations of the state, then, although, as in the former case, they observe the law, the government is a pure oligarchy. Or, again, when those who have the power of deliberation are self-elected, and son succeeds father, and they and not the laws are supremethe government is of necessity oligarchical. Where, again, particular persons have authority in particular mattersfor example, when the whole people decide about peace and war and hold scrutinies, but the magistrates regulate everything else, and they are elected by vote or by lotthere the government is an aristocracy or a constitutional government. And if some questions are decided by magistrates elected by vote, and others by magistrates elected by lot, either absolutely or out of select candidates, or elected partly by vote, partly by lotthese practices are partly characteristic of an aristocratic government, and partly of a pure constitutional government. These are the various forms of the deliberative body; they correspond to the various forms of government. And the government of each state is administered according to one or other of the principles which have been laid down. Now it is for the interest of democracy, according to the most prevalent notion of it (I am speaking of that extreme form of democracy in which the people are supreme even over the laws), with a view to better deliberation to adopt the custom of oligarchies respecting courts of law. For in oligarchies the rich who are wanted to be judges are compelled to attend under pain of a ne, whereas in democracies the poor are paid to attend. And this practice of oligarchies should be adopted by democracies in their public assemblies, for they will advise better if they all deliberate together, the people with the notables and the notables with the people. It is also a good plan that those who deliberate should be elected by vote or by lot in equal numbers out of the different classes; and that if the people greatly exceed in number those who have political training, pay should not be given to all, but only to as many as would balance the number of the notables, or that the number in excess should be eliminated by lot. But in oligarchies either certain persons should be co-opted from the mass, or a class of ofcers should be appointed such as exist in some states, who are termed Probuli and guardians of the law; and the citizens should occupy themselves exclusively with matters on which they have previously deliberated; for in that way the people will have a share in the deliberations of the state, but will not be able to disturb the principles of the constitution. Again, in oligarchies either the people ought to accept the measures of the government, or not to pass anything contrary to them; or, if all are allowed to share in counsel, the decision should rest with the magistrates. The opposite of

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what is done in constitutional governments should be the rule in oligarchies; the veto of the majority should be nal, their assent not nal, but the proposal should be referred back to the magistrates. Whereas in constitutional governments they take the contrary course; the few have the negative, not the afrmative power; the afrmation of everything rests with the multitude. These, then, are our conclusions respecting the deliberative, that is, the supreme element in states. 15 Next we will proceed to consider the distribution of ofces; this, too, being a part of politics concerning which many questions arise:What shall their number be? Over what shall they preside, and what shall be their duration? Sometimes they last for six months, sometimes for less; sometimes they are annual, whilst in other cases ofces are held for still longer periods. Shall they be for life or for a long term of years; or, if for a short term only, shall the same persons hold them over and over again, or once only? Also about the appointment to themfrom whom are they to be chosen, by whom, and how? We should rst be in a position to say what are the possible varieties of them, and then we may proceed to determine which are suited to different forms of government. But what are to be included under the term ofces? That is a question not quite so easily answered. For a political community requires many ofcers; and not every one who is chosen by vote or by lot is to be regarded as a ruler. In the rst place there are the priests, who must be distinguished from political ofcers; masters of choruses and heralds, even ambassadors, are elected by vote. Some duties of superintendence again are political, extending either to all the citizens in a single sphere of action, like the ofce of the general who superintends them when they are in the eld, or to a section of them only, like the inspectorships of women or of youth. Other ofces are concerned with household management, like that of the corn measurers who exist in many states and are elected ofcers. There are also menial ofces which the rich have executed by their slaves. Speaking generally, those are to be called ofces to which the duties are assigned of deliberating about certain measures and of judging and commanding, especially the last; for to command is the especial duty of a magistrate. But the question is not of any importance in practice; no one has ever brought into court the meaning of the word, although such problems have a speculative interest. What kinds of ofces, and how many, are necessary to the existence of a state, and which, if not necessary, yet conduce to its well-being, are much more important considerations, affecting all constitutions, but more especially small states. For in great states it is possible, and indeed necessary, that every ofce should

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have a special function; where the citizens are numerous, many may hold ofce. And so it happens that some ofces a man holds a second time only after a long interval, and others he holds once only; and certainly every work is better done which receives the sole and not the divided attention of the worker. But in small states it is necessary to combine many ofces in a few hands, since the small number of citizens does not admit of many holding ofcefor who will there be to succeed them? And yet small states at times require the same ofces and laws as large ones; the difference is that the one want them often, the others only after long intervals. Hence there is no reason why the care of many ofces should not be imposed on the same person, for they will not interfere with each other. When the population is small, ofces should be like the spits which also serve to hold a lamp. We must rst ascertain how many magistrates are necessary in every state, and also how many are not exactly necessary, but are nevertheless useful, and then there will be no difculty in seeing what ofces can be combined in one. We should also know over which matters several local tribunals are to have jurisdiction, and in which cases authority should be centralized: for example, should one person keep order in the market and another in some other place, or should the same person be responsible everywhere? Again, should ofces be divided according to the subjects with which they deal, or according to the persons with whom they deal: I mean to say, should one person see to good order in general, or one look after the boys, another after the women, and so on? Further, under different constitutions, should the magistrates be the same or different? For example, in democracy, oligarchy, aristocracy, monarchy, should there be the same magistrates, although they are elected not out of equal or similar classes of citizens, but differently under different constitutionsin aristocracies, for example, they are chosen from the educated, in oligarchies from the wealthy, and in democracies from the freeor are there certain differences in the ofces answering to them as well, and may the same be suitable to some, but different ofces to others? For in some states it may be convenient that the same ofce should have a more extensive, in other states a narrower sphere. Special ofces are peculiar to certain forms of governmentfor example that of Probuli, which is not a democratic ofce, although a council is democratic. There must be some body of men whose duty is to prepare measures for the people in order that they may not be diverted from their business; when these are few in number, the state inclines to an oligarchy: or rather the Probuli must always be few, and are therefore an oligarchical element. But when both institutions exist in a state, the Probuli are a check on the council; for the counsellor is a democratic element, but the Probuli are oligarchical. Even the power of the council disappears when democracy has taken that extreme form

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in which the people themselves are always meeting and deliberating about everything. This the case when the members of the assembly receive abundant pay; for they have nothing to do and are always holding assemblies and deciding everything for themselves. A magistracy which controls the boys or the women, or any similar ofce, is suited to an aristocracy rather than to a democracy; for how can the magistrates prevent the wives of the poor from going out of doors? Neither is it an oligarchical ofce; for the wives of the oligarchs are too grand.
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Enough of these matters. I will now inquire into appointments to ofces. The varieties depend on three terms, and the combinations of these give all possible modes: rst, who appoints? secondly, from whom? and thirdly, how? Each of these three admits of two varieties. For either all the citizens, or only some, appoint. Either the magistrates are chosen out of all or out of some who are distinguished either by a property qualication, or by birth, or excellence, or for some special reason, as at Megara only those were eligible who had returned from exile and fought together against the democracy. They may be appointed either by vote or by lot. Again, these several varieties may be coupled, I mean that some ofcers may be elected by some, others by all, and some again out of some, and others out of all, and some by vote and others by lot. Each variety of these terms admits of four modes. For either all may appoint from all by vote, or all from all by lot, or all from some by vote, or all from some by lot. Again, if it is only some who appoint, they may do so from all by vote or from all by lot or from some by vote or from some by lot. And if from all, either by sections, as, for example, by tribes, and wards, and phratries, until all the citizens have been gone through; or the citizens may be in all cases eligible indiscriminately; or sometimes in one way, sometimes in the otherI mean, from all by vote in some cases, by lot in others. Thus the modes that arise, apart from the two couplings, number twelve. Of these systems two are popular, that all should appoint from all by vote or by lotor by both, some of the ofces by lot, others by vote. That all should not appoint at once, but should appoint from all or from some either by lot or by vote or by both, or appoint to some ofces from all and to others from some (by both meaning to some ofces by lot, to others by vote), is characteristic of a polity. [And that some should appoint from all, to some ofces by vote, to others by lot or by bothsome by lot, others by voteis oligarchical; and it is more oligarchical to appoint by both. And to appoint to some ofces from all, to others from some, is characteristic of a polity with a leaning towards aristocracyor to appoint some by vote, others

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by lot.]17 That some should appoint from some is oligarchicaleven that some should appoint from some by lot (and if this does not actually occur, it is none the less oligarchical in character), or that some should appoint from some by both. That some should appoint from all, and that sometimes all should appoint from some, by vote, is aristocratic. These are the different modes of constituting magistrates, and these correspond to different forms of government:which are proper to which, or how they ought to be established, will be evident when we determine the nature of their powers. By powers I mean such powers as a magistrate exercises over the revenue or in defence of the country; for there are various kinds of power: the power of the general, for example, is not the same as that which regulates contracts in the market. Of the three parts of government the judicial remains to be considered, and this we shall divide on the same principle. There are three points on which the varieties of law-courts depend: the persons from whom they are appointed, the matters with which they are concerned, and the manner of their appointment. I mean, are the judges taken from all, or from some only? how many kinds of law-courts are there? are the judges chosen by vote or by lot? First, let me determine how many kinds of law-courts there are. They are eight in number: one is the court of audits or scrutinies; a second takes cognizance of ordinary offences against the state; a third is concerned with treason against the constitution; the fourth determines disputes respecting penalties, whether raised by magistrates or by private persons; the fth decides the more important civil cases; the sixth tries cases of homicide, which are of various kinds, premeditated, involuntary, and cases in which the guilt is confessed but the justice is disputed; and there may be a fourth court in which murderers who have ed from justice are tried after their return, such as the Court of Phreatto is said to be at Athens. But cases of this sort rarely happen at all even in large cities. The different kinds of homicide may be tried either by the same or by different courts. There are courts for strangers:of these there are two subdivisions, one for the settlement of their disputes with one another, the other for the settlement of disputes between them and the citizens. And besides all these there must be courts for small suits about sums of a drachma up to ve drachmas, or a little more, which have to be determined, but do not require many judges. Nothing more need be said of these small suits, nor of the courts for homicide and for strangers:I would rather speak of political cases, which, when misman17

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aged, create division and disturbances in constitutions. Now if all the citizens judge, in all the different cases which I have distinguished, they may be appointed by vote or by lot, or sometimes by lot and sometimes by vote. Or when a single class of causes are tried, the judges who decide them may be appointed, some by vote, and some by lot. These then are the four modes of appointing judges from the whole people, and there will be likewise four modes, if they are elected from a part only; for they may be appointed from some by vote and judge in all causes; or they may be appointed from some by lot and judge in all causes; or they may be elected in some cases by vote, and in some cases taken by lot, or some courts, even when judging the same causes, may be composed of members some appointed by vote and some by lot. These modes, then, as was said, answer to those previously mentioned. Once more, the modes of appointment may be combined; I mean, that some may be chosen out of the whole people, others out of some, some out of both; for example, the same tribunal may be composed of some who were elected out of all, and of others who were elected out of some, either by vote or by lot or by both. In how many forms law-courts can be established has now been considered. The rst form, viz. that in which the judges are taken from all the citizens, and in which all causes are tried, is democratic; the second, which is composed of a few only who try all causes, oligarchical; the third, in which some courts are taken from all classes, and some from certain classes only, aristocratic and constitutional.

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Book V
1 The design which we proposed to ourselves is now nearly completed. Next in order follow the causes of revolution in states, how many, and of what nature they are; what modes of destruction apply to particular states, and out of what, and into what they mostly change; also what are the modes of preservation in states generally, or in a particular state, and by what means each state may be best preserved: these questions remain to be considered. In the rst place we must assume as our starting-point that in the many forms of government which have sprung up there has always been an acknowledgement of justice and proportionate equality, although mankind fail in attaining them, as indeed I have already explained. Democracy, for example, arises out of the notion that those who are equal in any respect are equal in all respects; because men are equally free, they claim to be absolutely equal. Oligarchy is based on the notion that those who are unequal in one respect are in all respects unequal; being unequal, that is, in property, they suppose themselves to be unequal absolutely. The democrats think that as they are equal they ought to be equal in all things; while the oligarchs, under the idea that they are unequal, claim too much, which is one form of inequality. All these forms of government have a kind of justice, but, tried by an absolute standard, they are faulty; and, therefore, both parties, whenever their share in the government does not accord with their preconceived ideas, stir up revolution. Those who excel in excellence have the best right of all to rebel (for they alone can with reason be deemed absolutely unequal), but then they are of all men the least inclined to do so. There is also a superiority which is claimed by men of rank; for they are thought noble because they spring from wealthy and excellent ancestors. Here then, so to speak, are opened the very springs and fountains of revolution; and hence arise two sorts of changes in governments; the one affecting the constitution, when men seek to change from an existing form into some other, for example, from democracy into oligarchy, and from oligarchy into democracy, or from either of them into constitutional government or aristocracy, and conversely; the other not affecting the constitution, when, without disturbing the form of government, whether oligarchy, or monarchy, or any other, they try to get the administration into their own hands. Further, there is a question of degree; an oligarchy, for example, may become more or less oligarchical, and a democracy more or less democratic; and in like manner the characteristics of the other
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forms of government may be more or less strictly maintained. Or the revolution may be directed against a portion of the constitution only, e.g. the establishment or overthrow of a particular ofce: as at Sparta it is said that Lysander attempted to overthrow the monarchy, and king Pausanias, the ephoralty. At Epidamnus, too, the change was partial. For instead of phylarchs or heads of tribes, a council was appointed; but to this day the magistrates are the only members of the ruling class who are compelled to go to the Heliaea when an election takes place, and the ofce of the single archon was another oligarchical feature. Everywhere inequality is a cause of revolution, but an inequality in which there is no proportionfor instance, a perpetual monarchy among equals; and always it is the desire for equality which rises in rebellion. Now equality is of two kinds, numerical and proportional; by the rst I mean sameness or equality in number or size; by the second, equality of ratios. For example, the excess of three over two is numerically equal to the excess of two over one; whereas four exceeds two in the same ratio in which two exceeds one, for two is the same part of four that one is of two, namely, the half. As I was saying before, men agree that justice in the abstract is proportion, but they differ in that some think that if they are equal in any respect they are equal absolutely, others that if they are unequal in any respect they should be unequal in all. Hence there are two principal forms of government, democracy and oligarchy; for good birth and excellence are rare, but wealth and numbers are more common. In what city shall we nd a hundred persons of good birth and of excellence? whereas the rich everywhere abound. That a state should be ordered, simply and wholly, according to either kind of equality, is not a good thing; the proof is the fact that such forms of government never last. They are originally based on a mistake, and, as they begin badly, cannot fail to end badly. The inference is that both kinds of equality should be employed; numerical in some cases, and proportionate in others. Still democracy appears to be safer and less liable to revolution than oligarchy. For in oligarchies there is the double danger of the oligarchs falling out among themselves and also with the people; but in democracies there is only the danger of a quarrel with the oligarchs. No dissension worth mentioning arises among the people themselves. And we may further remark that a government which is composed of the middle class more nearly approximates to democracy than to oligarchy, and is the safest of the imperfect forms of government. 2 In considering how dissensions and political revolutions arise, we must rst of all ascertain the beginnings and causes of them which affect constitutions

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generally. They may be said to be three in number; and we have now to give an outline of each. We want to know what is the state of mind and what are the motives of those who make them and whence arise political disturbances and quarrels. The universal and chief cause of this revolutionary feeling has been already mentioned; viz. the desire for equality, when men think that they are equal to others who have more than themselves; or, again, the desire for inequality and superiority, when conceiving themselves to be superior they think that they have not more but the same or less than their inferiors; pretensions which may or may not be just. Inferiors revolt in order that they may be equal, and equals that they may be superior. Such is the state of mind which creates revolutions. The motives for making them are the desire for gain and honour, or the fear of dishonour and loss; the authors of them want to divert punishment or dishonour from themselves or their friends. The causes and reasons of revolutions, whereby men are themselves affected in the way described, and about the things which I have mentioned, viewed in one way may be regarded as seven, and in another as more than seven. Two of them have been already noticed; but they act in a different manner, for men are excited against one another by the love of gain and honournot, as in the case which I have just supposed, in order to obtain them for themselves, but at seeing others, justly or unjustly, monopolising them. Other causes are insolence, fear, excessive predominance, contempt, disproportionate increase in some part of the state; causes of another sort are election intrigues, carelessness, neglect about tries, dissimilarity of elements. 3 What share insolence and avarice have in creating revolutions, and how they work, is plain enough. When the magistrates are insolent and grasping they conspire against one another and also against the constitution from which they derive their power, making their gains either at the expense of individuals or of the public. It is evident, again, what an inuence honour exerts and how it is a cause of revolution. Men who are themselves dishonoured and who see others obtaining honours rise in rebellion; the honour or dishonour when undeserved is unjust; and just when awarded according to merit. Again, superiority is a cause of revolution when one or more persons have a power which is too much for the state and the power of the government; this is a condition of affairs out of which there tends to arise a monarchy, or a family oligarchy. And therefore, in some places, as at Athens and Argos, they have recourse to ostracism. But how much better to provide from the rst that there should be no such pre-eminent individuals instead of letting them come into existence and then nding a remedy. Another cause of revolution is fear. Either men have committed wrong, and
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are afraid of punishment, or they are expecting to suffer wrong and are desirous of anticipating their enemy. Thus at Rhodes the notables conspired against the people through fear of the suits that were brought against them. Contempt is also a cause of insurrection and revolution; for example, in oligarchieswhen those who have no share in the state are the majority, they revolt, because they think that they are the stronger. Or, again, in democracies, the rich despise the disorder and anarchy of the state; at Thebes, for example, where, after the battle of Oenophyta, the bad administration of the democracy led to its ruin. At Megara the fall of the democracy was due to a defeat occasioned by disorder and anarchy. And at Syracuse the democracy aroused contempt before the tyranny of Gelo arose; at Rhodes, before the insurrection. Political revolutions also spring from a disproportionate increase in any part of the state. For as a body is made up of many members, and every member ought to grow in proportion so that symmetry may be preserved, but it loses its nature if the foot is four cubits long and the rest of the body two spans; and, should the abnormal increase be one of quality as well as of quantity, it may even take the form of another animal: even so a state has many parts, of which some one may often grow imperceptibly; for example, the number of poor in democracies and in constitutional states. And this disproportion may sometimes happen by an accident, as at Tarentum, from a defeat in which many of the notables were slain in a battle with the Iapygians just after the Persian War, the constitutional government in consequence becoming a democracy; or as was the case at Argos, where the Argives, after their army had been cut to pieces on the seventh day of the month by Cleomenes the Lacedaemonian, were compelled to admit to citizenship some of their serfs; and at Athens, when, after frequent defeats of their infantry at the time of the Peloponnesian War, the notables were reduced in number, because the soldiers had to be taken from the roll of citizens. Revolutions arise from this cause as well, in democracies as in other forms of government, but not to so great an extent. When the rich grow numerous or properties increase, the form of government changes into an oligarchy or a government of families. Forms of government also changesometimes even without revolution, owing to election contests, as at Heraea (where, instead of electing their magistrates, they took them by lot, because the electors were in the habit of choosing their own partisans); or owing to carelessness, when disloyal persons are allowed to nd their way into the highest ofces, as at Oreum, where, upon the accession of Heracleodorus to ofce, the oligarchy was overthrown, and changed by him into a constitutional and democratic government. Again, the revolution may be facilitated by the slightness of the change; I

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mean that a great change may sometimes slip into the constitution through neglect of a small matter; at Ambracia, for instance, the qualication for ofce, small at rst, was eventually reduced to nothing. For the Ambraciots thought that a small qualication was much the same as none at all. Another cause of revolution is difference of races which do not at once acquire a common spirit; for a state is not the growth of a day, any more than it grows out of a multitude brought together by accident. Hence the reception of strangers in colonies, either at the time of their foundation or afterwards, has generally produced revolution; for example, the Achaeans who joined the Troezenians in the foundation of Sybaris, becoming later the more numerous, expelled them; hence the curse fell upon Sybaris. At Thurii the Sybarites quarrelled with their fellowcolonists; thinking that the land belonged to them, they wanted too much of it and were driven out. At Byzantium the new colonists were detected in a conspiracy, and were expelled by force of arms; the people of Antissa, who had received the Chian exiles, fought with them, and drove them out; and the Zancleans, after having received the Samians, were driven by them out of their own city. The citizens of Apollonia on the Euxine, after the introduction of a fresh body of colonists, had a revolution; the Syracusans, after the expulsion of their tyrants, having admitted strangers and mercenaries to the rights of citizenship, quarrelled and came to blows; the people of Amphipolis, having received Chalcidian colonists, were nearly all expelled by them. Now, in oligarchies the masses make revolution under the idea that they are unjustly treated, because, as I said before, they are equals, and have not an equal share, and in democracies the notables revolt, because they are not equals, and yet have only an equal share. Again, the situation of cities is a cause of revolution when the country is not naturally adapted to preserve the unity of the state. For example, the Chytians at Clazomenae did not agree with the people of the island; and the people of Colophon quarrelled with the Notians; at Athens, too, the inhabitants of the Piraeus are more democratic than those who live in the city. For just as in war the impediment of a ditch, however small, may break a regiment, so every cause of difference makes a breach in a city. The greatest opposition is confessedly that of excellence and badness; next comes that of wealth and poverty; and there are other antagonistic elements, greater or less, of which one is this difference of place. 4 In revolutions the occasions may be triing, but great interests are at stake. Even tries are most important when they concern the rulers, as was the case of old at Syracuse; for the Syracusan constitution was once changed by a love-quarrel

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of two young men, who were in the government. The story is that while one of them was away from home his beloved was gained over by his companion, and he to revenge himself seduced the others wife. They then drew the members of the ruling class into their quarrel and so split all the people into portions. We learn from this story that we should be on our guard against the beginnings of such evils, and should put an end to the quarrels of chiefs and mighty men. The mistake lies in the beginningas the proverb saysWell begun is half done; so an error at the beginning, though quite small, bears the same ratio to the errors in the other parts. In general, when the notables quarrel, the whole city is involved, as happened in Hestiaea after the Persian War. The occasion was the division of an inheritance; one of two brothers refused to give an account of their fathers property and the treasure which he had found: so the poorer of the two quarrelled with him and enlisted in his cause the popular party, the other, who was very rich, the wealthy classes. At Delphi, again, a quarrel about a marriage was the beginning of all the troubles which followed. In this case the bridegroom, fancying some occurrence to be of evil omen, came to the bride, and went away without taking her. Whereupon her relations, thinking that they were insulted by him, put some of the sacred treasure among his offerings while he was sacricing, and then slew him, pretending that he had been robbing the temple. At Mytilene, too, a dispute about heiresses was the beginning of many misfortunes, and led to the war with the Athenians in which Paches took their city. A wealthy citizen, named Timophanes, left two daughters; Dexander, another citizen, wanted to obtain them for his sons; but he was rejected in his suit, whereupon he stirred up a revolution, and instigated the Athenians (of whom he was representative) to interfere. A similar quarrel about an heiress arose at Phocis between Mnaseas the father of Mnason, and Euthycrates the father of Onomarchus; this was the beginning of the Sacred War. A marriagequarrel was also the cause of a change in the government of Epidamnus. A certain man betrothed his daughter to a person whose father, having been made a magistrate, ned the father of the girl, and the latter, stung by the insult, conspired with the unenfranchised classes to overthrow the state. Governments also change into oligarchy or into democracy or into a constitutional government because the magistrates, or some other section of the state, increase in power or renown. Thus at Athens the reputation gained by the court of the Areopagus, in the Persian War, seemed to tighten the reins of government. On the other hand, the victory of Salamis, which was gained by the common people who served in the eet, and won for the Athenians the empire due to command of the sea, strengthened the democracy. At Argos, the notables, having distinguished

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themselves against the Lacedaemonians in the battle of Mantinea, attempted to put down the democracy. At Syracuse, the people, having been the chief authors of the victory in the war with the Athenians, changed the constitutional government into democracy. At Chalcis, the people, uniting with the notables, killed Phoxus the tyrant, and then seized the government. At Ambracia, the people, in like manner, having joined with the conspirators in expelling the tyrant Periander, transferred the government to themselves. And generally, it should be remembered that those who have secured power to the state, whether private citizens, or magistrates, or tribes, or any other part or section of the state, are apt to cause revolutions. For either envy of their greatness draws others into rebellion, or they themselves, in their pride of superiority, are unwilling to remain on a level with others. Revolutions also break out when opposite parties, e.g. the rich and the people, are equally balanced, and there is little or no middle class; for, if either party were manifestly superior, the other would not risk an attack upon them. And for this reason, those who are eminent in excellence usually do not stir up insurrections, being always a minority. Such in general are the beginnings and causes of the disturbances and revolutions to which every form of government is liable. Revolutions are effected in two ways, by force and by fraud. Force may be applied either at the time of making the revolution or afterwards. Fraud, again, is of two kinds; for sometimes the citizens are deceived into acquiescing in a change of government, and afterwards they are held in subjection against their will. This was what happened in the case of the Four Hundred, who deceived the people by telling them that the king would provide money for the war against the Lacedaemonians, and, having cheated the people, still endeavoured to retain the government. In other cases the people are persuaded at rst, and afterwards, by a repetition of the persuasion, their goodwill and allegiance are retained. The revolutions which affect constitutions generally spring from the above-mentioned causes. 5 And now, taking each constitution separately, we must see what follows from the principles already laid down. Revolutions in democracies are generally caused by the intemperance of demagogues, who either in their private capacity lay information against rich men until they compel them to combine (for a common danger unites even the bitterest enemies), or coming forward in public stir up the people against them. The truth of this remark is proved by a variety of examples. At Cos the democracy was overthrown because wicked demagogues arose, and the notables combined. At Rhodes the demagogues not only provided pay for the multitude, but prevented them from

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making good to the trierarchs the sums which had been expended by them; and they, in consequence of the suits which were brought against them, were compelled to combine and put down the democracy. The democracy at Heraclea was overthrown shortly after the foundation of the colony by the injustice of the demagogues, which drove out the notables, who came back in a body and put an end to the democracy. Much in the same manner the democracy at Megara was overturned; there the demagogues drove out many of the notables in order that they might be able to conscate their property. At length the exiles, becoming numerous, returned, and, engaging and defeating the people, established the oligarchy. The same thing happened with the democracy of Cyme, which was overthrown by Thrasymachus. And we may observe that in most states the changes have been of this character. For sometimes the demagogues, in order to curry favour with the people, wrong the notables and so force them to combineeither they make a division of their property, or diminish their incomes by the imposition of public services, and sometimes they bring accusations against the rich so that they may have their wealth to conscate. Of old, the demagogue was also a general, and then democracies changed into tyrannies. Most of the ancient tyrants were originally demagogues. They are not so now, but they were then; and the reason is that they were generals and not orators, for oratory had not yet come into fashion. Whereas in our day, when the art of rhetoric has made such progress, the orators lead the people, but their ignorance of military matters prevents them from usurping power; at any rate instances to the contrary are few and slight. Tyrannies were more common formerly than now, for this reason also, that great power was placed in the hands of individuals; thus a tyranny arose at Miletus out of the ofce of the Prytanis, who had supreme authority in many important matters. Moreover, in those days, when cities were not large, the people dwelt in the elds, busy at their work; and their chiefs, if they possessed any military talent, seized the opportunity, and winning the condence of the masses by professing their hatred of the wealthy, they succeeded in obtaining the tyranny. Thus at Athens Peisistratus led a faction against the men of the plain, and Theagenes at Megara slaughtered the cattle of the wealthy, which he found by the river side, where they had put them to graze. Dionysius, again, was thought worthy of the tyranny because he denounced Daphnaeus and the rich; his enmity to the notables won for him the condence of the people. Changes also take place from the ancient to the latest form of democracy; for where there is a popular election of the magistrates and no property qualication, the aspirants for ofce get hold of the people, and contrive at last even to set them above the laws. A more or less complete cure for this state of things is for the separate tribes, and

POLITICS: Book V not the whole people, to elect the magistrates. These are the principal causes of revolutions in democracies.

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6 There are two patent causes of revolutions in oligarchies: rst, when the oligarchs oppress the people, for then anybody is good enough to be their champion, especially if he be himself a member of the oligarchy, as Lygdamis at Naxos, who afterwards came to be tyrant. But revolutions which commence outside the governing class may be further subdivided. Sometimes, when the government is very exclusive, the revolution is brought about by persons of the wealthy class who are excluded, as happened at Massalia and Istros and Heraclea, and other cities. Those who had no share in the government created a disturbance, until rst the elder brothers, and then the younger, were admitted; for in some places father and son, in others, elder and younger brothers, do not hold ofce together. At Massalia the oligarchy became more like a constitutional government, but at Istros ended in a democracy, and at Heraclea was enlarged to 600. At Cnidos, again, the oligarchy underwent a considerable change. For the notables fell out among themselves, because only a few shared in the government; there existed among them the rule already mentioned, that father and son could not hold ofce together, and, if there were several brothers, only the eldest was admitted. The people took advantage of the quarrel, and choosing one of the notables to be their leader, attacked and conquered the oligarchs, who were divided, and division is always a source of weakness. The city of Erythrae, too, in old times was ruled, and ruled well, by the Basilidae, but the people took offence at the narrowness of the oligarchy and changed the constitution. Of internal causes of revolutions in oligarchies one is the personal rivalry of the oligarchs, which leads them to play the demagogue. Now, the oligarchical demagogue is of two sorts: either he practises upon the oligarchs themselves (for, although the oligarchy are quite a small number, there may be a demagogue among them, as at Athens Charicles party won power by courting the Thirty, that of Phrynichus by courting the Four Hundred); or the oligarchs may play the demagogue with the people. This was the case at Larissa, where the guardians of the citizens endeavoured to gain over the people because they were elected by them; and such is the fate of all oligarchies in which the magistrates are elected, as at Abydos, not by the class in which they belong, but by the heavy-armed or by the people, although they may be required to have a high qualication, or to be members of a political club; or, again, where the law-courts are composed of persons outside the government, the oligarchs atter the people in order to obtain a decision in their own favour, and so they change the constitution; this happened

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at Heraclea in Pontus. Again, oligarchies change whenever any attempt is made to narrow them; for then those who desire equal rights are compelled to call in the people. Changes in the oligarchy also occur when the oligarchs waste their private property by extravagant living; for then they want to innovate, and either try to make themselves tyrants, or install some one else in the tyranny, as Hipparinus did Dionysius at Syracuse, and as at Amphipolis a man named Cleotimus introduced Chalcidian colonists, and when they arrived, stirred them up against the rich. For a like reason in Aegina the person who carried on the negotiation with Chares endeavoured to revolutionize the state. Sometimes a party among the oligarchs try directly to create a political change; sometimes they rob the treasury, and then either the thieves or, as happened at Apollonia in Pontus, those who resist them in their thieving quarrel with the rulers. But an oligarchy which is at unity with itself is not easily destroyed from within; of this we may see an example at Pharsalus, for there, although the rulers are few in number, they govern a large city, because they have a good understanding among themselves. Oligarchies, again, are overthrown when another oligarchy is created within the original one, that is to say, when the whole governing body is small and yet they do not all share in the highest ofces. Thus at Elis the governing body was a small senate; and very few ever found their way into it, because the senators were only ninety in number, and were elected for life and out of certain families in a manner similar to the Lacedaemonian elders. Oligarchy is liable to revolutions alike in war and in peace; in war because, not being able to trust the people, the oligarchs are compelled to hire mercenaries, and the general who is in command of them often ends in becoming a tyrant, as Timophanes did at Corinth; or if there are more generals than one they make themselves into a junta. Sometimes the oligarchs, fearing this danger, give the people a share in the government because their services are necessary to them. And in time of peace, from mutual distrust, the two parties hand over the defence of the state to the army and to an arbiter between the two factions, who often ends the master of both. This happened at Larissa when Simos the Aleuad had the government, and at Abydos in the days of Iphiades and the political clubs. Revolutions also arise out of marriages or lawsuits which lead to the overthrow of one party among the oligarchs by another. Of quarrels about marriages I have already mentioned some instances; another occurred at Eretria, where Diagoras overturned the oligarchy of the knights because he had been wronged about a marriage. A revolution at Heraclea, and another at Thebes, both arose out of decisions of law-courts upon a charge of adultery; in both cases the punishment was just, but executed in the spirit of party, at Heraclea upon Eurytion, and at Thebes upon Archias; for their enemies were jealous

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of them and so had them pilloried in the agora. Many oligarchies have been destroyed by some members of the ruling class taking offence at their excessive despotism; for example, the oligarchy at Cnidus and at Chios. Changes of constitutional governments, and also of oligarchies which limit the ofce of counsellor, judge, or other magistrate to persons having a certain money qualication, often occur by accident. The qualication may have been originally xed according to the circumstances of the time, in such a manner as to include in an oligarchy a few only, or in a constitutional government the middle class. But after a time of prosperity, whether arising from peace or some other good fortune, the same property becomes many times as valuable, and then everybody participates in every ofce; this happens sometimes gradually and insensibly, and sometimes quickly. These are the causes of changes and revolutions in oligarchies. We must remark generally, both of democracies and oligarchies, that they sometimes change, not into the opposite forms of government, but only into another variety of the same class; I mean to say, from those forms of democracy and oligarchy which are regulated by law into those which are arbitrary, and conversely. 7 In aristocracies revolutions are stirred up when a few only share in the honours of the state; a cause which has been already shown to affect oligarchies; for an aristocracy is a sort of oligarchy, and, like an oligarchy, is the government of a few, although few not for the same reason; hence the two are often confused. And revolutions will be most likely to happen, and must happen, when the mass of the people are of the high-spirited kind, and have a notion that they are as good as their rulers. Thus at Lacedaemon the so-called Partheniae, who were the sons of the Spartan peers, attempted a revolution, and, being detected, were sent away to colonize Tarentum. Again, revolutions occur when great men who are at least of equal excellence are denied honours by those higher in ofce, as Lysander was by the kings of Sparta; or, when a brave man is excluded from the honours of the state, like Cinadon, who conspired against the Spartans in the reign of Agesilaus; or, again, when some are very poor and others very rich, a state of society which is most often the result of war, as at Lacedaemon in the days of the Messenian War; this is proved from the poem of Tyrtaeus, entitled Good Order; for he speaks of certain citizens who were ruined by the war and wanted to have a redistribution of the land. Again, revolutions arise when an individual who is great, and might be greater, wants to rule alone, as, at Lacedaemon, Pausanias, who was general in the Persian War, or like Hanno at Carthage. Constitutional governments and aristocracies are commonly overthrown ow-

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ing to some deviation from justice in the constitution itself; the cause of the downfall is, in the former, the ill-mingling of the two elements democracy and oligarchy; in the latter, of the three elements, democracy, oligarchy, and excellence, but especially democracy and oligarchy. For to combine these is the endeavour of constitutional governments; and most of the so-called aristocracies have a like aim, but differ from polities in the mode of combination; hence some of them are more and some less permanent. Those which incline more to oligarchy are called aristocracies, and those which incline to democracy constitutional governments. And therefore the latter are the safer of the two; for the greater the number, the greater the strength, and when men are equal they are contented. But the rich, if the constitution gives them power, are apt to be insolent and avaricious; and, in general, whichever way the constitution inclines, in that direction it changes as either party gains strength, a constitutional government becoming a democracy, an aristocracy an oligarchy. But the process may be reversed, and aristocracy may change into democracy. This happens when the poor, under the idea that they are being wronged, force the constitution to take an opposite form. In like manner constitutional governments change into oligarchies. The only stable principle of government is equality according to merit, and for every man to enjoy his own. What I have just mentioned actually happened at Thurii, where the qualication for ofce, at rst high, was therefore reduced, and the magistrates increased in number. The notables had previously acquired the whole of the land contrary to law; for the government tended to oligarchy, and they were able to encroach. . . .18 But the people, who had been trained by war, soon got the better of the guards kept by the oligarchs, until those who had too much gave up their land. Again, since all aristocratic governments incline to oligarchy, the notables are apt to be grasping; thus at Lacedaemon, where property tends to pass into few hands, the notables can do too much as they like, and are allowed to marry whom they please. The city of Locri was ruined by a marriage connexion with Dionysius, but such a thing could never have happened in a democracy, or in a well-balanced aristocracy. I have already remarked that in all states revolutions are occasioned by tries. In aristocracies, above all, they are of a gradual and imperceptible nature. The citizens begin by giving up some part of the constitution, and so with greater ease the government change something else which is a little more important, until they have undermined the whole fabric of the state. At Thurii there was a law that generals should only be re-elected after an interval of ve years, and some
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young men who were popular with the soldiers of the guard for their military prowess, despising the magistrates and thinking that they would easily gain their purpose, wanted to abolish this law and allow their generals to hold perpetual commands; for they well knew that the people would be glad enough to elect them. Whereupon the magistrates who had charge of these matters, and who are called councillors, at rst determined to resist, but they afterwards consented, thinking that, if only this one law was changed, no further inroad would be made on the constitution. But other changes soon followed which they in vain attempted to oppose; and the state passed into the hands of the revolutionists, who established a dynastic oligarchy. All constitutions are overthrown either from within or from without; the latter, when there is some government close at hand having an opposite interest, or at a distance, but powerful. This was exemplied by the Athenians and the Lacedaemonians; the Athenians everywhere put down the oligarchies, and the Lacedaemonians the democracies. I have now explained what are the chief causes of revolutions and dissensions in states. 8 We have next to consider what means there are of preserving constitutions in general, and in particular cases. In the rst place it is evident that if we know the causes which destroy constitutions, we also know the causes which preserve them; for opposites produce opposites, and destruction is the opposite of preservation. In all well-balanced governments there is nothing which should be more jealously maintained than the spirit of obedience to law, more especially in small matters; for transgression creeps in unperceived and at last ruins the state, just as the constant recurrence of small expenses in time eats up a fortune. The expense does not take place all at once, and therefore is not observed; the mind is deceived, as in the fallacy which says that if each part is little, then the whole is little. And this is true in one way, but not in another, for the whole and the all are not little, although they are made up of littles. In the rst place, then, men should guard against the beginning of change, and in the second place they should not rely upon the political devices of which I have already spoken, invented only to deceive the people, for they are proved by experience to be useless. Further, we note that oligarchies as well as aristocracies may last, not from any inherent stability in such forms of government, but because the rulers are on good terms both with the unenfranchised and with the governing classes, not maltreating any who are excluded from the government, but introducing into it the leading spirits among them. They should never wrong

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the ambitious in a matter of honour, or the common people in a matter of money; and they should treat one another and their fellow-citizens in a spirit of equality. The equality which the friends of democracy seek to establish for the multitude is not only just but likewise expedient among equals. Hence, if the governing class are numerous, many democratic institutions are useful; for example, the restriction of the tenure of ofces to six months, so that all those who are of equal rank may share in them. Indeed, a group of equals is a kind of democracy, and therefore demagogues are very likely to arise among them, as I have already remarked. The short tenure of ofce prevents oligarchies and aristocracies from falling into the hands of families; it is not easy for a person to do any great harm when his tenure of ofce is short, whereas long possession begets tyranny in oligarchies and democracies. For the aspirants to tyranny are either the principal men of the state, who in democracies are demagogues and in oligarchies members of ruling houses, or those who hold great ofces, and have a long tenure of them. Constitutions are preserved when their destroyers are at a distance, and sometimes also because they are near, for the fear of them makes the government keep in hand the constitution. Wherefore the ruler who has a care of the constitution should invent terrors, and bring distant dangers near, in order that the citizens may be on their guard, and, like sentinels in a night-watch, never relax their attention. He should endeavour too by help of the laws to control the contentions and quarrels of the notables, and to prevent those who have not hitherto taken part in them from catching the spirit of contention. No ordinary man can discern the beginning of evil, but only the true statesman. As to the change produced in oligarchies and constitutional governments by the alternation of the qualication, when this arises, not out of any variation in the qualication but only out of the increase of money, it is well to compare the new valuation of property with that of past years, annually in those cities in which the census is taken annually, and in larger cities every third or fth year. If the whole is many times greater or many times less than when the ratings recognized by the constitution were xed, there should be power given by law to raise or lower the qualication as the amount is greater or less. Where this is not done a constitutional government passes into an oligarchy, and an oligarchy is narrowed to a rule of families; or in the opposite case constitutional government becomes democracy, and oligarchy either constitutional government or democracy. It is a principle common to democracy, oligarchy, and every other form of government not to allow the disproportionate increase of any citizen, but to give moderate honour for a long time rather than great honour for a short time. For men are easily spoilt; not every one can bear prosperity. But if this rule is not observed,

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at any rate the honours which are given all at once should be taken away by degrees and not all at once. Especially should the laws provide against any one having too much power, whether derived from friends or money; if he has, he should be sent clean out of the country. And since innovations creep in through the private life of individuals also, there ought to be a magistracy which will have an eye to those whose life is not in harmony with the government, whether oligarchy or democracy or any other. And for a like reason an increase of prosperity in any part of the state should be carefully watched. The proper remedy for this evil is always to give the management of affairs and ofces of state to opposite elements; such opposites are the good and the many, or the rich and the poor. Another way is to combine the poor and the rich in one body, or to increase the middle class: thus an end will be put to the revolutions which arise from inequality. But above all every state should be so administered and so regulated by law that its magistrates cannot possibly make money. In oligarchies special precautions should be used against this evil. For the people do not take any great offence at being kept out of the governmentindeed they are rather pleased than otherwise at having leisure for their private businessbut what irritates them is to think that their rulers are stealing the public money; then they are doubly annoyed; for they lose both honour and prot. If ofce brought no prot, then and then only could democracy and aristocracy be combined; for both notables and people might have their wishes gratied. All would be able to hold ofce, which is the aim of democracy, and the notables would be magistrates, which is the aim of aristocracy. And this result may be accomplished when there is no possibility of making money out of the ofces; for the poor will not want to have them when there is nothing to be gained from themthey would rather be attending to their own concerns; and the rich, who do not want money from the public treasury, will be able to take them; and so the poor will keep to their work and grow rich, and the notables will not be governed by the lower class. In order to avoid peculation of the public money, the transfer of the revenue should be made at a general assembly of the citizens, and duplicates of the accounts deposited with the different brotherhoods, companies, and tribes. And honours should be given by law to magistrates who have the reputation of ruling without gain. In democracies the rich should be spared; not only should their property not be divided, but their incomes also, which in some states are taken from them imperceptibly, should be protected. It is a good thing to prevent the wealthy citizens, even if they are willing, from undertaking expensive and useless public services, such as the giving of choruses, torch-races, and the like. In an oligarchy, on the other hand, great care should be taken of the poor, and lucrative ofces should go to them; if any of the wealthy

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classes insult them, the offender should be punished more severely than if he had wronged one of his own class. Provision should be made that estates pass by inheritance and not by gift, and no person should have more than one inheritance; for in this way properties will be equalized, and more of the poor rise to wealth. It is also expedient both in a democracy and in an oligarchy to assign to those who have less share in the government (i.e. to the rich in a democracy and to the poor in an oligarchy) an equality or preference in all but the principal ofces of state. The latter should be entrusted chiey or only to members of the governing class.
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9 There are three qualications required in those who have to ll the highest ofcesrst of all, loyalty to the established constitution; then the greatest administrative capacity; and excellence and justice of the kind proper to each form of government; for, if what is just is not the same in all governments, the quality of justice must also differ. There may be a doubt, however, when all these qualities do not meet in the same person; suppose, for example, a good general is a bad man and not a friend to the constitution, and another man is loyal and just, which should we choose? In making the election ought we not to consider two points? what qualities are common, and what are rare. Thus in the choice of a general, we should regard his experience rather than his excellence; for few have military experience, but many have excellence. In any ofce of trust or stewardship, on the other hand, the opposite rule should be observed; for more excellence than ordinary is required in the holder of such an ofce, but the necessary knowledge is of a sort which all men possess. It may, however, be asked what a man wants with excellence if he has political ability and is loyal, since these two qualities alone will make him do what is for the public interest. But may not men have both of them and yet be decient in selfcontrol?If, knowing and loving their own interests, they do not always attend to them, may they not be equally negligent of the interests of the public? Speaking generally, we may say that whatever legal enactments are held to be for the interest of various constitutions, all these preserve them. And the great preserving principle is the one which has been repeatedly mentionedto have a care that the loyal citizens should be stronger than the disloyal. Neither should we forget the mean, which at the present day is lost sight of in perverted forms of government; for many practices which appear to be democratic are the ruin of democracies, and many which appear to be oligarchical are the ruin of oligarchies. Those who think that all excellence is to be found in their own party principles push matters to extremes; they do not consider that disproportion destroys a state. A nose which varies from the ideal of straightness to a hook or snub may still

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be of good shape and agreeable to the eye; but if the excess is very great, all symmetry is lost, and the nose at last ceases to be a nose at all on account of some excess in one direction or defect in the other; and this is true of every other part of the human body. The same law of proportion equally holds in states. Oligarchy or democracy, although a departure from the most perfect form, may yet be a good enough government, but if any one attempts to push the principles of either to an extreme, he will begin by spoiling the government and end by having none at all. Therefore the legislator and the statesman ought to know what democratic measures save and what destroy a democracy, and what oligarchical measures save or destroy an oligarchy. For neither the one nor the other can exist or continue to exist unless both rich and poor are included in it. If equality of property is introduced, the state must of necessity take another form; for when by laws carried to excess one or other element in the state is ruined, the constitution is ruined. There is an error common both to oligarchies and to democracies:in the latter the demagogues, when the multitude are above the law, are always cutting the city in two by quarrels with the rich, whereas they should always profess to be maintaining their cause; just as in oligarchies the oligarchs should profess to maintain the cause of the people, and should take oaths the opposite of those which they now take. For there are cities in which they swearI will be an enemy to the people, and will devise all the harm against them which I can; but they ought to exhibit and to entertain the very opposite feeling; in the form of their oath there should be an express declarationI will do no wrong to the people. But of all the things which I have mentioned that which most contributes to the permanence of constitutions is the adaptation of education to the form of government, and yet in our own day this principle is universally neglected. The best laws, though sanctioned by every citizen of the state, will be of no avail unless the young are trained by habit and education in the spirit of the constitution, if the laws are democratic, democratically, or oligarchically, if the laws are oligarchical. For there may be a want of self-discipline in states as well as in individuals. Now, to have been educated in the spirit of the constitution is not to perform the actions in which oligarchs or democrats delight, but those by which the existence of an oligarchy or of a democracy is made possible. Whereas among ourselves the sons of the ruling class in an oligarchy live in luxury, but the sons of the poor are hardened by exercise and toil, and hence they are both more inclined and better able to make a revolution. And in democracies of the more extreme type there has arisen a false idea of freedom which is contradictory to the true interests of the state. For two principles are characteristic of democracy, the government of the

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majority and freedom. Men think that what is just is equal; and that equality is the supremacy of the popular will; and that freedom means doing what one likes. In such democracies every one lives as he pleases, or in the words of Euripides, according to his fancy. But this is all wrong; men should not think it slavery to live according to the rule of the constitution; for it is their salvation. I have now discussed generally the cause of the revolution and destruction of states, and the means of their preservation and continuance. 10 I have still to speak of monarchy, and the causes of its destruction and preservation. What I have said already respecting forms of constitutional government applies almost equally to royal and to tyrannical rule. For royal rule is of the nature of an aristocracy, and a tyranny is a compound of oligarchy and democracy in their most extreme forms; it is therefore most injurious to its subjects, being made up of two evil forms of government, and having the perversions and errors of both. These two forms of monarchy are contrary in their very origin. The appointment of a king is the resource of the better classes against the people, and he is elected by them out of their own number, because either he himself or his family excel in excellence and excellent actions; whereas a tyrant is chosen from the people to be their protector against the notables, and in order to prevent them from being injured. History shows that almost all tyrants have been demagogues who gained the favour of the people by their accusation of the notables. At any rate this was the manner in which the tyrannies arose in the days when cities had increased in power. Others which were older originated in the ambition of kings wanting to overstep the limits of their hereditary power and become despots. Others again grew out of the class which were chosen to be chief magistrates; for in ancient times the people who elected them gave the magistrates, whether civil or religious, a long tenure. Others arose out of the custom which oligarchies had of making some individual supreme over the highest ofces. In any of these ways an ambitious man had no difculty, if he desired, in creating a tyranny, since he had the power in his hands already, either as king or as one of the ofcers of state. Thus Pheidon at Argos and several others were originally kings, and ended by becoming tyrants; Phalaris, on the other hand, and the Ionian tyrants, acquired the tyranny by holding great ofces. Whereas Panaetius at Leontini, Cypselus at Corinth, Peisistratus at Athens, Dionysius at Syracuse, and several others who afterwards became tyrants, were at rst demagogues. And so, as I was saying, royalty ranks with aristocracy, for it is based upon merit, whether of the individual or of his family, or on benets conferred, or on these claims with power added to them. For all who have obtained this honour

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have beneted, or had in their power to benet, states and nations; some, like Codrus, have prevented the state from being enslaved in war; others, like Cyrus, have given their country freedom, or have settled or gained a territory, like the Lacedaemonian, Macedonian, and Molossian kings. The idea of a king is to be a protector of the rich against unjust treatment, of the people against insult and oppression. Whereas a tyrant, as has often been repeated, has no regard to any public interest, except as conducive to his private ends; his aim is pleasure, the aim of a king, honour. Therefore they differ also in their excesses; the tyrant accumulates riches, the king seeks what brings honour. And the guards of a king are citizens, but of a tyrant mercenaries. That tyranny has all the vices both of democracy and oligarchy is evident. As of oligarchy so of tyranny, the end is wealth (for by wealth only can the tyrant maintain his guard and his luxury). Both mistrust the people, and therefore deprive them of their arms. Both agree too in injuring the people and driving them out of the city and dispersing them. From democracy tyrants have borrowed the art of making war upon the notables and destroying them secretly or openly, or of exiling them because they are rivals and stand in the way of their power; and also because plots against them are contrived by men of this class, who either want to rule or to escape subjection. Hence Periander advised Thrasybulus by cutting off the tops of the tallest ears of corn, meaning that he must always put out of the way the citizens who overtop the rest. And so, as I have already intimated, the beginnings of change are the same in monarchies as in forms of constitutional government; subjects attack their sovereigns out of fear or contempt, or because they have been unjustly treated by them. And of injustice the most common form is insult, another is conscation of property. The ends sought by conspiracies against monarchies, whether tyrannies or royalties, are the same as the ends sought by conspiracies against other forms of government. Monarchs have great wealth and honour, which are objects of desire to all mankind. The attacks are made sometimes against their lives, sometimes against the ofce; where the sense of insult is the motive, against their lives. Any sort of insult (and there are many) may stir up anger, and when men are angry, they commonly act out of revenge, and not from ambition. For example, the attempt made upon the Peisistratidae arose out of the public dishonour offered to the sister of Harmodius and the insult to himself. He attacked the tyrant for his sisters sake, and Aristogeiton joined in the attack for the sake of Harmodius. A conspiracy was also formed against Periander, the tyrant of Ambracia, because, when drinking with a favourite youth, he asked him whether by this time he was not with child by him. Philip, too, was attacked by Pausanias because he permitted

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him to be insulted by Attalus and his friends, and Amyntas the Little, by Derdas, because he boasted of having enjoyed his youth. Evagoras of Cyprus, again, was slain by the eunuch to revenge an insult; for his wife had been carried off by Evagorass son. Many conspiracies have originated in shameful attempts made by sovereigns on the persons of their subjects. Such was the attack of Crataeas upon Archelaus; he had always hated his intercourse with the king, and so, when Archelaus, having promised him one of his two daughters in marriage, did not give him either of them, but broke his word and married the elder to the king of Elymeia, when he was hard pressed in a war against Sirrhas and Arrhabaeus, and the younger to his own son Amyntas, under the idea that Amyntas would then be less likely to quarrel with his son by CleopatraCrataeas made this slight a pretext for attacking Archelaus, though even a less reason would have sufced, for the real cause of the estrangement was the disgust which he felt at his sexual subjection. And from a like motive Hellanocrates of Larissa conspired with him; for when Archelaus, who was his lover, did not full his promise of restoring him to his country, he thought that the intercourse between them had originated, not in sexual desire, but in the wish to insult him. Pytho, too, and Heracleides of Aenos, slew Cotys in order to avenge their father, and Adamas revolted from Cotys in revenge for the wanton outrage which he had committed in castrating him when a child. Many, too, enraged by blows inicted on the person which they deemed an insult, have either killed or attempted to kill ofcers of state and royal princes by whom they have been injured. Thus, at Mytilene, Megacles and his friends attacked and slew the Penthilidae, as they were going about and striking people with clubs. At a later date Smerdis, who had been beaten and torn away from his wife by Penthilus, slew him. In the conspiracy against Archelaus, Decamnichus stimulated the fury of the assassins and led the attack; he was enraged because Archelaus had delivered him to Euripides to be scourged; for the poet had been irritated at some remark made by Decamnichus on the foulness of his breath. Many other examples might be cited of murders and conspiracies which have arisen from similar causes. Fear is another motive which, as we have said, has caused conspiracies as well in monarchies as in more popular forms of government. Thus Artapanes conspired against Xerxes and slew him, fearing that he would be accused of hanging Darius against his ordershe having been under the impression that Xerxes would forget what he had said in the middle of a meal, and that the offence would be forgiven. Another motive is contempt, as in the case of Sardanapalus, whom someone saw carding wool with his women, if the story-tellers say truly; and the tale may be

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true, if not of him, of someone else. Dion attacked the younger Dionysius because he despised him, and saw that he was equally despised by his own subjects, and that he was always drunk. Even the friends of a tyrant will sometimes attack him out of contempt; for the condence which he reposes in them breeds contempt, and they think that they will not be found out. The expectation of success is likewise a sort of contempt; the assailants are ready to strike, and think nothing of the danger, because they seem to have the power in their hands. Thus generals of armies attack monarchs; as, for example, Cyrus attacked Astyages, despising the effeminacy of his life, and believing that his power was worn out. Thus again, Seuthes the Thracian conspired against Amadocus, whose general he was. And sometimes men are actuated by more than one motive, like Mithridates, who conspired against Ariobarzanes, partly out of contempt and partly from the love of gain. Bold natures, placed by their sovereigns in a high military position, are most likely to make the attempt in the expectation of success; for courage is emboldened by power, and the union of the two inspires them with the hope of an easy victory. Attempts of which the motive is ambition arise in a different way as well as in those already mentioned. There are men who will not risk their lives in the hope of gains and honours however great, but who nevertheless regard the killing of a tyrant simply as an extraordinary action which will make them famous and notable in the world; they wish to acquire, not a kingdom, but a name. It is rare, however, to nd such men; he who would kill a tyrant must be prepared to lose his life if he fails. He must have the resolution of Dion, who, when he made war upon Dionysius, took with him very few troops, saying that whatever measure of success he might attain would be enough for him, even if he were to die the moment he landed; such a death would be welcome to him. But this is a temper to which few can attain. Once more, tyrannies, like all other governments, are destroyed from without by some opposite and more powerful form of government. That such a government will have the will to attack them is clear; for the two are opposed in principle; and all men, if they can, do what they want to. Democracy is antagonistic to tyranny, on the principle of Hesiod, Potter hates Potter, because they are nearly akin, for the extreme form of democracy is tyranny; and royalty and aristocracy are both alike opposed to tyranny, because they are constitutions of a different type. And therefore the Lacedaemonians put down most of the tyrannies, and so did the Syracusans during the time when they were well governed. Again, tyrannies are destroyed from within, when the reigning family are di-

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vided among themselves, as that of Gelo was, and more recently that of Dionysius; in the case of Gelo because Thrasybulus, the brother of Hiero, attered the son of Gelo and led him into excesses in order that he might rule in his name. Whereupon the family got together a party to get rid of Thrasybulus and save the tyranny; but those of the people who conspired with them seized the opportunity and drove them all out. In the case of Dionysius, Dion, his own relative, attacked and expelled him with the assistance of the people; he afterwards perished himself. There are two chief motives which induce men to attack tyrannieshatred and contempt. Hatred of tyrants is inevitable, and contempt is also a frequent cause of their destruction. Thus we see that most of those who have acquired, have retained their power, but those who have inherited, have lost it, almost at once; for, living in luxurious ease, they have become contemptible, and offer many opportunities to their assailants. Anger, too, must be included under hatred, and produces the same effects. It is often even more ready to strikethe angry are more impetuous in making an attack, for they do not follow rational principle. And men are very apt to give way to their passions when they are insulted. To this cause is to be attributed the fall of the Peisistratidae and of many others. Hatred is more reasonable, for anger is accompanied by pain, which is an impediment to reason, whereas hatred is painless. In a word, all the causes which I have mentioned as destroying the last and most unmixed form of oligarchy, and the extreme form of democracy, may be assumed to affect tyranny; indeed the extreme forms of both are only tyrannies distributed among several persons. Kingly rule is little affected by external causes, and is therefore lasting; it is generally destroyed from within. And there are two ways in which the destruction may come about; when the members of the royal family quarrel among themselves, and when the kings attempt to administer the state too much after the fashion of a tyranny, and to extend their authority contrary to the law. Royalties do not now come into existence; where such forms of government arise, they are rather monarchies or tyrannies. For the rule of a king is over voluntary subjects, and he is supreme in all important matters; but in our own day men are more upon an equality, and no one is so immeasurably superior to others as to represent adequately the greatness and dignity of the ofce. Hence mankind will not, willingly, endure it, and any one who obtains power by force or fraud is at once thought to be a tyrant. In hereditary monarchies a further cause of destruction is the fact that kings often fall into contempt, and, although possessing not tyrannical power, but only royal dignity, are apt to outrage others. Their overthrow is then readily effected; for there is an end to the king when his subjects do not want to have him, but the tyrant lasts, whether they like him or not.

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The destruction of monarchies is to be attributed to these and the like causes. 11 And they are preserved, to speak generally, by the opposite causes; or, if we consider them separately, royalty is preserved by the limitation of its powers. The more restricted the functions of kings, the longer their power will last unimpaired; for then they are more moderate and not so despotic in their ways; and they are less envied by their subjects. This is the reason why the kingly ofce has lasted so long among the Molossians. And for a similar reason it has continued among the Lacedaemonians, because there it was always divided between two, and afterwards further limited by Theopompus in various respects, more particularly by the establishment of the Ephoralty. He diminished the power of the kings, but established on a more lasting basis the kingly ofce, which was thus made in a certain sense not less, but greater. There is a story that when his wife once asked him whether he was not ashamed to leave to his sons a royal power which was less than he had inherited from his father, No indeed, he replied, for the power which I leave to them will be more lasting. As to tyrannies, they are preserved in two quite opposite ways. One of them is the old traditional method in which most tyrants administer their government. Of such arts Periander of Corinth is said to have been the great master, and many similar devices may be gathered from the Persians in the administration of their government. There are rstly the prescriptions mentioned some distance back, for the preservation of a tyranny, in so far as this is possible; viz. that the tyrant should lop off those who are too high; he must put to death men of spirit; he must not allow common meals, clubs, education, and the like; he must be upon his guard against anything which is likely to inspire either courage or condence among his subjects; he must prohibit schools or other meetings for discussion, and he must take every means to prevent people from knowing one another (for acquaintance begets mutual condence). Further, he must compel all persons staying in the city to appear in public and live at his gates; then he will know what they are doing: if they are always kept under, they will learn to be humble. In short, he should practise these and the like Persian and barbaric arts, which all have the same object. A tyrant should also endeavour to know what each of his subjects says or does, and should employ spies, like the female detectives at Syracuse, and the eavesdroppers whom Hiero was in the habit of sending to any place of resort or meeting; for the fear of informers prevents people from speaking their minds, and if they do, they are more easily found out. Another art of the tyrant is to sow quarrels among the citizens; friends should be embroiled with friends, the people with the notables, and the rich with one another. Also he should impoverish his

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subjects; he thus provides against the maintenance of a guard by the citizens, and the people, having to keep hard at work, are prevented from conspiring. The Pyramids of Egypt afford an example of this policy; also the offerings of the family of Cypselus, and the building of the temple of Olympian Zeus by the Peisistratidae, and the great Polycratean monuments at Samos; all these works were alike intended to occupy the people and keep them poor. Another practice of tyrants is to multiply taxes, after the manner of Dionysius at Syracuse, who contrived that within ve years his subjects should bring into the treasury their whole property. The tyrant is also fond of making war in order that his subjects may have something to do and be always in want of a leader. And whereas the power of a king is preserved by his friends, the characteristic of a tyrant is to distrust his friends, because he knows that all men want to overthrow him, and they above all have the power to do so. Again, the practices of the last and worst form of democracy are all found in tyrannies. Such are the power given to women in their families in the hope that they will inform against their husbands, and the licence which is allowed to slaves in order that they may betray their masters; for slaves and women do not conspire against tyrants; and they are of course friendly to tyrannies and also to democracies, since under them they have a good time. For the people too would fain be a monarch, and therefore by them, as well as by the tyrant, the atterer is held in honour; in democracies he is the demagogue; and the tyrant also has those who associate with him in a humble spirit, which is a work of attery. Hence tyrants are always fond of bad men, because they love to be attered, but no man who has the spirit of a freeman in him will lower himself by attery; good men love others, or at any rate do not atter them. Moreover, the bad are useful for bad purposes; nail knocks out nail, as the proverb says. It is characteristic of a tyrant to dislike every one who has dignity or independence; he wants to be alone in his glory, but anyone who claims a like dignity or asserts his independence encroaches upon his prerogative, and is hated by him as an enemy to his power. Another mark of a tyrant is that he likes foreigners better than citizens, and lives with them and invites them to his table; for the one are enemies, but the others enter into no rivalry with him. Such are the marks of the tyrant and the arts by which he preserves his power; there is no wickedness too great for him. All that we have said may be summed up under three heads, which answer to the three aims of the tyrant. These are, the humiliation of his subjects, for he knows that a mean-spirited man will not conspire against anybody: the creation of mistrust among them; for a tyrant is not overthrown until men begin to have condence in one another; and this is

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the reason why tyrants are at war with the good; they are under the idea that their power is endangered by them, not only because they will not be ruled despotically, but also because they are loyal to one another, and to other men, and do not inform against one another or against other men: the tyrant desires that his subjects shall be incapable of action, for no one attempts what is impossible, and they will not attempt to overthrow a tyranny if they are powerless. Under these three heads the whole policy of a tyrant may be summed up, and to one or other of them all his ideas may be referred: he sows distrust among his subjects; he takes away their power; and he humbles them. This then is one of the two methods by which tyrannies are preserved; and there is another which proceeds upon an almost opposite principle of action. The nature of this latter method may be gathered from a comparison of the causes which destroy kingdoms, for as one mode of destroying kingly power is to make the ofce of king more tyrannical, so the salvation of a tyranny is to make it more like the rule of a king. But of one thing the tyrant must be careful; he must keep power enough to rule over his subjects, whether they like him or not, for if he once gives this up he gives up his tyranny. But though power must be retained as the foundation, in all else the tyrant should act or appear to act in the character of a king. In the rst place he should pretend concern for the public revenues, and not waste money in making presents of a sort at which the common people get excited when they see their hard-won earnings snatched from them and lavished on courtesans and foreigners and artists. He should give an account of what he receives and of what he spends (a practice which has been adopted by some tyrants); for then he will seem to be a steward of the public rather than a tyrant; nor need he fear that, while he is the lord of the city, he will ever be in want of money. Such a policy is at all events much more advantageous for the tyrant when he goes from home, than to leave behind him a hoard, for then the garrison who remain in the city will be less likely to attack his power; and a tyrant, when he is absent from home, has more reason to fear the guardians of his treasure than the citizens, for the one accompany him, but the others remain behind. In the second place, he should be seen to collect taxes and to require public services only for state purposes, and so as to form a fund in case of war, and generally he ought to make himself the guardian and treasurer of them, as if they belonged, not to him, but to the public. He should appear, not harsh, but dignied, and when men meet him they should look upon him with reverence, and not with fear. Yet it is hard for him to be respected if he inspires no respect, and therefore whatever virtues he may neglect, at least he should maintain the character of a great soldier, and produce the impression that he is one. Neither he nor any of his associates should

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ever assault the young of either sex who are his subjects, and the women of his family should observe a like self-control towards other women; the insolence of women has ruined many tyrannies. In the indulgence of pleasures he should be the opposite of our modern tyrants, who not only begin at dawn and pass whole days in sensuality, but want other men to see them, so that they may admire their happy and blessed lot. In these things a tyrant should if possible be moderate, or at any rate should not parade his vices to the world; for a drunken and drowsy tyrant is soon despised and attacked; not so he who is temperate and wide awake. His conduct should be the very reverse of nearly everything which has been said before about tyrants. He ought to adorn and improve his city, as though he were not a tyrant, but the guardian of the state. Also he should appear to be particularly earnest in the service of the gods; for if men think that a ruler is religious and has a reverence for the gods, they are less afraid of suffering injustice at his hands, and they are less disposed to conspire against him, because they believe him to have the very gods ghting on his side. At the same time his religion must not be thought foolish. And he should honour men of merit, and make them think that they would not be held in more honour by the citizens if they had a free government. The honour he should distribute himself, but the punishment should be inicted by ofcers and courts of law. It is a precaution which is taken by all monarchs not to make one person great; but if one, then two or more should be raised, that they may keep an eye one another. If after all some one has to be made great, he should not be a man of bold spirit; for such dispositions are ever most inclined to strike. And if any one is to be deprived of his power, let it be diminished gradually, not taken from him all at once. The tyrant should abstain from all outrage; in particular from personal violence and from wanton conduct towards the young. He should be especially careful of his behaviour to men who are lovers of honour; for as the lovers of money are offended when their property is touched, so are the lovers of honour and the good when their honour is affected. Therefore a tyrant ought either not to commit such acts at all; or he should be thought only to employ fatherly correction, and not to trample upon othersand his acquaintance with youth should be supposed to arise from desire, and not from the insolence of power, and in general he should compensate the appearance of dishonour by the increase of honour. Of those who attempt assassination they are the most dangerous, and require to be most carefully watched, who do not care to survive, if they effect their purpose. Therefore special precaution should be taken about any who think that either they or those for whom they care have been insulted; for when men are led away by passion to assault others they are regardless of themselves. As Heracleitus says,

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It is difcult to ght against anger; for a man will buy revenge with his soul. And whereas states consist of two classes, of poor men and of rich, the tyrant should lead both to imagine that they are preserved and prevented from harming one another by his rule, and whichever of the two is stronger he should attach to his government; for, having this advantage, he has no need either to emancipate slaves or to disarm the citizens; either party added to the force which he already has, will make him stronger than his assailants. But enough of these detailswhat should be the general policy of the tyrant is obvious. He ought to show himself to his subjects in the light, not of a tyrant, but of a steward and a king. He should not appropriate what is theirs, but should be their guardian; he should be moderate, not extravagant in his way of life; he should win the notables by companionship, and the multitude by attery. For then his rule will of necessity be nobler and happier, because he will rule over better men whose spirits are not crushed, and who do not hate and fear him. His power too will be more lasting. His disposition will be virtuous, or at least half virtuous; and he will not be wicked, but half wicked only. 12 Yet no forms of government are so short-lived as oligarchy and tyranny. The tyranny which lasted longest was that of Orthagoras and his sons at Sicyon; this continued for a hundred years. The reason was that they treated their subjects with moderation, and to a great extent observed the laws; and in various ways gained the favour of the people by the care which they took of them. Cleisthenes, in particular, was respected for his military ability. If report may be believed, he crowned the judge who decided against him in the games; and, as some say, the sitting statue in the Agora of Sicyon is the likeness of this person. (A similar story is told of Peisistratus, who is said on one occasion to have allowed himself to be summoned and tried before the Areopagus.) Next in duration to the tyranny of Orthagoras was that of the Cypselidae at Corinth, which lasted seventy-three years and six months: Cypselus reigned thirty years, Periander forty and a half, and Psammetichus the son of Gorgus three. Their continuance was due to similar causes: Cypselus was a popular man, who during the whole time of his rule never had a body-guard; and Periander, although he was a tyrant, was a great soldier. Third in duration was the rule of the Peisistratidae at Athens, but it was interrupted; for Peisistratus was twice driven out, so that out of thirty-three years he reigned only seventeen; and his sons reigned eighteen altogether thirty-ve years. Of other tyrannies, that of Hiero and Gelo at Syracuse was the most lasting. Even this, however, was short, not more than eighteen years in all; for Gelo continued tyrant for seven years, and died in the eighth; Hiero

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reigned for ten years, and Thrasybulus was driven out in the eleventh month. In fact, tyrannies generally have been of quite short duration. I have now gone through almost all the causes by which constitutional governments and monarchies are either destroyed or preserved. In the Republic of Plato, Socrates treats of revolutions, but not well, for he mentions no cause of change which peculiarly affects the rst or perfect state. He only says that the cause is that nothing is abiding, but all things change in a certain cycle; and that the origin of the change consists in those numbers of which 4 and 3, married with 5, furnish two harmonies (he means when the number of this gure becomes solid); he conceives that nature at certain times produces bad men who will not submit to education; in which latter particular he may very likely be not far wrong, for there may well be some men who cannot be educated and made virtuous. But why is such a cause of change peculiar to his ideal state, and not rather common to all states, or indeed, to everything which comes into being at all? And is it by the agency of time, which, as he declares, makes all things change, that things which did not begin together, change together? For example, if something has come into being the day before the completion of the cycle, will it change with things that came into being before? Further, why should the perfect state change into the Spartan? For governments more often take an opposite form than one akin to them. The same remark is applicable to the other changes; he says that the Spartan constitution changes into an oligarchy, and this into a democracy, and this again into a tyranny. And yet the contrary happens quite as often; for a democracy is even more likely to change into an oligarchy than into a monarchy. Further, he never says whether tyranny is, or is not, liable to revolutions, and if it is, what is the cause of them, or into what form it changes. And the reason is, that he could not very well have told: for there is no rule; according to him it should revert to the rst and best, and then there would be a complete cycle. But in point of fact a tyranny often changes into a tyranny, as that at Sicyon changed from the tyranny of Myron into that of Cleisthenes; into oligarchy, as the tyranny of Antileon did at Chalcis; into democracy, as that of Gelos family did at Syracuse; into aristocracy, as at Carthage, and the tyranny of Charilaus in Lacedaemon. Often an oligarchy changes into a tyranny, like most of the ancient oligarchies in Sicily; for example, the oligarchy at Leontini changed into the tyranny of Panaetius; that at Gela into the tyranny of Cleander; that at Rhegium into the tyranny of Anaxilaus; the same thing has happened in many other states. And it is absurd to suppose that the state changes into oligarchy merely because the ruling class are lovers and makers of money, and not because the very rich think it unfair that the very poor should have an equal share in the government with themselves. Moreover, in many

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oligarchies there are laws against making money in trade. But at Carthage, which is a democracy, there is no such prohibition; and yet to this day the Carthaginians have never had a revolution. It is absurd too for him to say that an oligarchy is two cities, one of the rich, and the other of the poor. Is not this just as much the case in the Spartan constitution, or in any other in which either all do not possess equal property, or all are not equally good men? Nobody need be any poorer than he was before, and yet the oligarchy may change all the same into a democracy, if the poor form the majority; and a democracy may change into an oligarchy, if the wealthy class are stronger than the people, and the one are energetic, the other indifferent. Once more, although the causes of the change are very numerous, he mentions only one, which is, that the citizens become poor through dissipation and debt, as though he thought that all, or the majority of them, were originally rich. This is not true: though it is true that when any of the leaders lose their property they are ripe for revolution; but, when anybody else does, it is no great matter, and an oligarchy does not even then more often pass into a democracy than into any other form of government. Again, if men are deprived of the honours of state, and are wronged, and insulted, they make revolutions, and change forms of government, even although they have not wasted their substance because they might do what they likeof which extravagance he declares excessive freedom to be the cause. Finally, although there are many forms of oligarchies and democracies, Socrates speaks of their revolutions as though there were only one form of either of them.

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1 We have now considered the varieties of the deliberative or supreme power in states, and the various arrangements of law-courts and state ofces, and which of them are adapted to different forms of government. We have also spoken of the destruction and preservation of constitutions, how and from what causes they arise. Of democracy and all other forms of government there are many kinds; and it will be well to assign to them severally the modes of organization which are proper and advantageous to each, adding what remains to be said about them. Moreover, we ought to consider the various combinations of these modes themselves; for such combinations make constitutions overlap one another, so that aristocracies have an oligarchical character, and constitutional governments incline to democracies. When I speak of the combinations which remain to be considered, and thus far have not been considered by us, I mean such as these:when the deliberative part of the government and the election of ofcers is constituted oligarchically, and the law-courts aristocratically, or when the courts and the deliberative part of the state are oligarchical, and the election of ofces aristocratic, or when in any other way there is a want of harmony in the composition of a state. I have shown already what forms of democracy are suited to particular cities, and what forms of oligarchy to particular peoples, and to whom each of the other forms of government is suited. Further, we must not only show which of these governments is the best for each state, but also briey proceed to consider how these and other forms of government are to be established. First of all let us speak of democracy, which will also bring to light the opposite form of government commonly called oligarchy. For the purposes of this inquiry we need to ascertain all the elements and characteristics of democracy, since from the combinations of these the varieties of democratic government arise. There are several of these differing from each other, and the difference is due to two causes. One has been already mentioneddifferences of population; for the popular element may consist of farmers, or of artisans, or of labourers, and if the rst of these is added to the second, or the third to the two others, not only does the democracy become better or worse, but its very nature is changed. A second cause remains

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to be mentioned: the various properties and characteristics of democracy, when variously combined, make a difference. For one democracy will have less and another will have more, and another will have all of these characteristics. There is an advantage in knowing them all, whether a man wishes to establish some new form of democracy, or only to remodel an existing one. Founders of states try to bring together all the elements which accord with the ideas of the several constitutions; but this is a mistake of theirs, as I have already remarked when speaking of the destruction and preservation of states. We will now set forth the principles, characteristics, and aims of such states. 2 The basis of a democratic state is liberty; which, according to the common opinion of men, can only be enjoyed in such a statethis they afrm to be the great end of every democracy. One principle of liberty is for all to rule and be ruled in turn, and indeed democratic justice is the application of numerical not proportionate equality; whence it follows that the majority must be supreme, and that whatever the majority approve must be the end and the just. Every citizen, it is said, must have equality, and therefore in a democracy the poor have more power than the rich, because there are more of them, and the will of the majority is supreme. This, then, is one note of liberty which all democrats afrm to be the principle of their state. Another is that a man should live as he likes. This, they say, is the mark of liberty, since, on the other hand, not to live as a man likes is the mark of a slave. This is the second characteristic of democracy, whence has arisen the claim of men to be ruled by none, if possible, or, if this is impossible, to rule and be ruled in turns; and so it contributes to the freedom based upon equality. Such being our foundation and such the principle from which we start, the characteristics of democracy are as follows:the election of ofcers by all out of all; and that all should rule over each, and each in his turn over all; that the appointment to all ofces, or to all but those which require experience and skill, should be made by lot; that no property qualication should be required for ofces, or only a very low one; that a man should not hold the same ofce twice, or not often, or in the case of few except military ofces; that the tenure of all ofces, or of as many as possible, should be brief; that all men should sit in judgement, or that judges selected out of all should judge, in all matters, or in most and in the greatest and most importantsuch as the scrutiny of accounts, the constitution, and private contracts; that the assembly should be supreme over all causes, or at any rate over the most important, and the magistrates over none or only over a very few. Of all magistracies, a council is the most democratic when there is not the means of paying all the citizens, but when they are paid even this is robbed of
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its power; for the people then draw all cases to themselves, as I said in the previous discussion. The next characteristic of democracy is payment for services; assembly, law-courts, magistrates, everybody receives pay, when it is to be had; or when it is not to be had for all, then it is given to the law-courts and to the stated assemblies, to the council and to the magistrates, or at least to any of them who are compelled to have their meals together. [And whereas oligarchy is characterized by birth, wealth, and education, the marks of democracy appear to be the opposite of theselow birth, poverty, mean employment.]19 Another characteristic is that no magistracy is perpetual, but if any such have survived some ancient change in the constitution it should be stripped of its power, and the holders should be elected by lot and no longer by vote. These are the points common to all democracies; but democracy and demos in their truest form are based upon the recognized principle of democratic justice, that all should count equally; for equality implies that the poor should have no more share in the government than the rich, and should not be the only rulers, but that all should rule equally according to their numbers. And in this way men think that they will secure equality and freedom in their state.
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3 Next comes the question, how is this equality to be obtained? Are we to assign to a thousand poor men the property qualications of ve hundred rich men? and shall we give the thousand a power equal to that of the ve hundred? or, if this is not to be the mode, ought we, still retaining the same ratio, to take equal numbers from each and give them the control of the elections and of the courts?Which, according to the democratic notion, is the juster form of the constitutionthis or one based on numbers only? Democrats say that justice is that to which the majority agree, oligarchs that to which the wealthier class agree; in their opinion the decision should be given according to the amount of property. In both principles there is some inequality and injustice. For if justice is the will of the few, any one person who has more wealth than all the rest of the rich put together, ought, upon the oligarchical principle, to have the sole power but this would be tyranny; or if justice is the will of the majority, as I was before saying, they will unjustly conscate the property of the wealthy minority. To nd a principle of equality in which they both agree we must inquire into their respective ideas of justice. Now they agree in saying that whatever is decided by the majority of the citizens is to be deemed law. Granted, but not without some reserve; since there are
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two classes out of which a state is composedthe poor and the richthat is to be deemed law, on which both or the greater part of both agree; and if they disagree, that which is approved by the greater number, and by those who have the higher qualication. For example, suppose that there are ten rich and twenty poor, and some measure is approved by six of the rich and is disapproved by fteen of the poor, and the remaining four of the rich join with the party of the poor, and the remaining ve of the poor with that of the rich; in such a case the will of those whose qualications, when both sides are added up, are the greatest, should prevail. If they turn out to be equal, there is no greater difculty than at present, when, if the assembly or the courts are divided, recourse is had to the lot, or to some similar expedient. But, although it may be difcult in theory to know what is just and equal, the practical difculty of inducing those to forbear who can, if they like, encroach, is far greater, for the weaker are always asking for equality and justice, but the stronger care for none of these things. 4 Of the four kinds of democracy, as was said in the previous discussion, the best is that which comes rst in order; it is also the oldest of them all. I am speaking of them according to the natural classication of their inhabitants. For the best material of democracy is an agricultural population; there is no difculty in forming a democracy where the mass of the people live by agriculture or tending of cattle. Being poor, they have no leisure, and therefore do not often attend the assembly, and having the necessaries of life they are always at work, and do not covet the property of others. Indeed, they nd their employment pleasanter than the cares of government or ofce where no great gains can be made out of them, for the many are more desirous of gain than of honour. A proof is that even the ancient tyrannies were patiently endured by them, as they still endure oligarchies, if they are allowed to work and are not deprived of their property; for some of them grow quickly rich and the others are well enough off. Moreover, they have the power of electing the magistrates and calling them to account; their ambition, if they have any, is thus satised; and in some democracies, although they do not all share in the appointment of ofces, except through representatives elected in turn out of the whole people, as at Mantineayet, if they have the power of deliberating, the many are contented. Even this form of government may be regarded as a democracy, and was such at Mantinea. Hence it is both expedient and customary in the afore-mentioned type of democracy that all should elect to ofces, and conduct scrutinies, and sit in the law-courts, but that the great ofces should be lled up by election and from persons having a qualication; the greater requiring a greater qualication, or, if there are no ofces for which a qualication
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is required, then those who are marked out by special ability should be appointed. Under such a form of government the citizens are sure to be governed well (for the ofces will always be held by the best persons; the people are willing enough to elect them and are not jealous of the good). The good and the notables will then be satised, for they will not be governed by men who are their inferiors, and the persons elected will rule justly, because others will call them to account. Every man should be responsible to others, nor should anyone be allowed to do just as he pleases; for where absolute freedom is allowed there is nothing to restrain the evil which is inherent in every man. But the principle of responsibility secures that which is the greatest good in states; the right persons rule and are prevented from doing wrong, and the people have their due. It is evident that this is the best kind of democracyand why? because the people are drawn from a certain class. Some of the ancient laws of most states were useful with a view to making the people husbandmen. They provided either that no one should possess more than a certain quantity of land, or that, if he did, the land should not be within a certain distance from the town or the acropolis. Formerly in many states there was a law forbidding anyone to sell his original allotment of land. There is a similar law attributed to Oxylus, which is to the effect that there should be a certain portion of every mans land on which he could not borrow money. A useful corrective to the evil of which I am speaking would be the law of the Aphytaeans, who, although they are numerous, and do not possess much land, are all of them farmers. For their properties are reckoned in the census, not entire, but only in such small portions that even the poor may have more than the amount required. Next best to an agricultural, and in many respects similar, are a pastoral people, who live by their ocks; they are the best trained of any for war, robust in body and able to camp out. The people of whom other democracies consist are far inferior to them, for their life is inferior; there is no room for excellence in any of their employments, whether they be artisans or traders or labourers. Besides, people of this class can readily come to the assembly, because they are continually moving about in the city and in the agora; whereas farmers are scattered over the country and do not meet or feel the same need of assembling together. Where the territory also happens to extend to a distance from the city, there is no difculty in making an excellent democracy or constitutional government; for the people are compelled to settle in the country, and even if there is a town population the assembly ought not to meet, in democracies, when the country people cannot come. We have thus explained how the rst and best form of democracy should be constituted; it is clear that the other or inferior sorts will deviate in a regular order, and the population which is excluded will at each stage be of a lower kind.

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The last form of democracy, that in which all share alike, is one which cannot be borne by all states, and will not last long unless well regulated by laws and customs. The more general causes which tend to destroy this or other kinds of government have been pretty fully considered. In order to constitute such a democracy and strengthen the people, the leaders have been in the habit of including as many as they can, and making citizens not only of those who are legitimate, but even of the illegitimate, and of those who have only one parent a citizen, whether father or mother; for nothing of this sort comes amiss to such a democracy. This is the way in which demagogues proceed. Whereas the right thing would be to make no more additions when the number of the commonalty exceeds that of the notables and of the middle class and not to go beyond this. When in excess of this point, the constitution becomes disorderly, and the notables grow excited and impatient of the democracy, as in the insurrection at Cyrene; for no notice is taken of a little evil, but when it increases it strikes the eye. Measures like those which Cleisthenes passed when he wanted to increase the power of the democracy at Athens, or such as were taken by the founders of popular government at Cyrene, are useful in the extreme form of democracy. Fresh tribes and brotherhoods should be established; the private rites of families should be restricted and converted into public ones; in short, every contrivance should be adopted which will mingle the citizens with one another and get rid of old connexions. Again, the measures which are taken by tyrants appear all of them to be democratic; such, for instance, as the licence permitted to slaves (which may be to a certain extent advantageous) and also to women and children, and the allowing everybody to live as he likes. Such a government will have many supporters, for most persons would rather live in a disorderly than in a sober manner. 5 The mere establishment of a democracy is not the only or principal business of the legislator, or of those who wish to create such a state, for any state, however badly constituted, may last one, two, or three days; a far greater difculty is the preservation of it. The legislator should therefore endeavour to have a rm foundation according to the principles already laid down concerning the preservation and destruction of states; he should guard against the destructive elements, and should make laws, whether written or unwritten, which will contain all the preservatives of states. He must not think the truly democratic or oligarchical measure to be that which will give the greatest amount of democracy or oligarchy, but that which will make them last longest. The demagogues of our own day often get property conscated in the law-courts in order to please the people. Hence those who have the welfare of the state at heart should counteract them, and make

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a law that the property of the condemned should not be public and go into the treasury but be sacred. Thus offenders will be as much afraid, for they will be punished all the same, and the people, having nothing to gain, will not be so ready to condemn the accused. Care should also be taken that state trials are as few as possible, and heavy penalties should be inicted on those who bring groundless accusations; for it is the practice to indict, not members of the popular party, but the notables, although the citizens ought to be all attached to the constitution as well, or at any rate should not regard their rulers as enemies. Now, since in the last form of democracy the citizens are very numerous, and can hardly be made to assemble unless they are paid, and to pay them when there are no revenues presses hardly upon the notables (for the money must be obtained by a property-tax and conscations and corrupt practices of the courts, things which have before now overthrown many democracies); where, I say, there are no revenues, the government should hold few assemblies, and the law-courts should consist of many persons, but sit for a few days only. This system has two advantages: rst, the rich do not fear the expense, even though they are unpaid themselves when the poor are paid; and secondly, cases are better tried, for wealthy persons, although they do not like to be long absent from their own affairs, do not mind going for a few days to the law-courts. Where there are revenues the demagogues should not be allowed after their manner to distribute the surplus; the poor are always receiving and always wanting more and more, for such help is like water poured into a leaky cask. Yet the true friend of the people should see that they are not too poor, for extreme poverty lowers the character of the democracy; measures therefore should be taken which will give them lasting prosperity; and as this is equally the interest of all classes, the proceeds of the public revenues should be accumulated and distributed among its poor, if possible, in such quantities as may enable them to purchase a little farm, or, at any rate, make a beginning in trade or farming. And if this benevolence cannot be extended to all, money should be distributed in turn according to tribes or other divisions, and in the meantime the rich should pay the fee for the attendance of the poor at the necessary assemblies; and should in return be excused from useless public services. By administering the state in this spirit the Carthaginians retain the affections of the people; their policy is from time to time to send some of them into their dependent towns, where they grow rich. It is also worthy of a generous and sensible nobility to divide the poor amongst them, and give them the means of going to work. The example of the people of Tarentum is also well deserving of imitation, for, by sharing the use of their own property with the poor, they gain their good will. Moreover, they divide all their ofces into two classes, some of them being elected by vote, the others

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by lot; the latter, so that the people may participate in them, and the former, so that the state may be better administered. A like result may be gained by dividing the same ofces, so as to have two classes of magistrates, one chosen by vote, the other by lot. Enough has been said of the manner in which democracies ought to be constituted. 6 From these considerations there will be no difculty in seeing what should be the constitution of oligarchies. We have only to reason from opposites and compare each form of oligarchy with the corresponding form of democracy. The rst and best balanced of oligarchies is akin to a constitutional government. In this there ought to be two standards of qualication; the one high, the other lowthe lower qualifying for the humbler yet indispensable ofces and the higher for the superior ones. He who acquires the prescribed qualication should have the rights of citizenship. The number of those admitted should be such as will make the entire governing body stronger than those who are excluded, and the new citizen should be always taken out of the better class of the people. The principle, narrowed a little, gives another form of oligarchy; until at length we reach the most cliquish and tyrannical of them all, answering to the extreme democracy, which, being the worst, requires vigilance in proportion to its badness. For as healthy bodies and ships well provided with sailors may undergo many mishaps and survive them, whereas sickly constitutions and rotten ill-manned ships are ruined by the very least mistake, so do the worst forms of government require the greatest care. The populousness of democracies generally preserves them (for number is to democracy in the place of justice based on merit); whereas the preservation of an oligarchy clearly depends on an opposite principle, viz. good order. 7 As there are four chief divisions of the common people, farmers, artisans, traders, labourers; so also there are four kinds of military forcesthe cavalry, the heavy infantry, the light-armed troops, the navy. When the country is adapted for cavalry, then a strong oligarchy is likely to be established. For the security of the inhabitants depends upon a force of this sort, and only rich men can afford to keep horses. The second form of oligarchy prevails when the country is adapted to heavy infantry; for this service is better suited to the rich than to the poor. But the light-armed and the naval element are wholly democratic; and nowadays, where they are numerous, if the two parties quarrel, the oligarchy are often worsted by them in the struggle. A remedy for this state of things may be found in the practice of generals who combine a proper contingent of light-armed troops

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with cavalry and heavy-armed. And this is the way in which the poor get the better of the rich in civil contests; being lightly armed, they ght with advantage against cavalry and heavy infantry. An oligarchy which raises such a force out of the lower classes raises a power against itself. And therefore, since the ages of the citizens vary and some are older and some younger, the fathers should have their own sons, while they are still young, taught the agile movements of lightarmed troops; and these, when they have been taken out of the ranks of the youth, should become light-armed warriors in reality. The oligarchy should also yield a share in the government to the people, either, as I said before, to those who have a property qualication, or, as in the case of Thebes, to those who have abstained for a certain number of years from mean employments, or, as at Massalia, to men of merit who are selected for their worthiness, whether previously citizens or not. The magistracies of the highest rank, which ought to be in the hands of the governing body, should have expensive duties attached to them, and then the people will not desire them and will take no offence at the privileges of their rulers when they see that they pay a heavy ne for their dignity. It is tting also that the magistrates on entering ofce should offer magnicent sacrices or erect some public edice, and then the people who participate in the entertainments, and see the city decorated with votive offerings and buildings, will not desire an alteration in the government, and the notables will have memorials of their municence. This, however, is anything but the fashion of our modern oligarchs, who are as covetous of gain as they are of honour; oligarchies like theirs may be well described as petty democracies. Enough of the manner in which democracies and oligarchies should be organized.
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8 Next in order follows the right distribution of ofces, their number, their nature, their duties, of which indeed we have already spoken. No state can exist not having the necessary ofces, and no state can be well administered not having the ofces which tend to preserve harmony and good order. In small states, as we have already remarked, there must not be many of them, but in larger states there must be a larger number, and we should carefully consider which ofces may properly be united and which separated. First among necessary ofces is that which has the care of the market; a magistrate should be appointed to inspect contracts and to maintain order. For in every state there must inevitably be buyers and sellers who will supply one anothers wants; this is the readiest way to make a state self-sufcient and so fulll the purpose for which men come together into one state. A second ofce of a similar kind undertakes the supervision and embellishment of public and private buildings, the

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maintaining and repairing of houses and roads, the prevention of disputes about boundaries, and other concerns of a like nature. This is commonly called the ofce of City-warden, and has various departments, which, in more populous towns, are shared among different persons, one, for example, taking charge of the walls, another of the fountains, a third of harbours. There is another equally necessary ofce, and of a similar kind, having to do with the same matters outside the walls and in the countrythe magistrates who hold this ofce are called Wardens of the country, or Inspectors of the woods. Besides these three there is a fourth ofce of receivers of taxes, who have under their charge the revenue which is distributed among the various departments; these are called Receivers or Treasurers. Another ofcer registers all private contracts, and decisions of the courts, all public indictments, and also all preliminary proceedings. This ofce again is sometimes subdivided; but in some places a single ofcer is responsible for all these matters. These ofcers are called Recorders or Sacred Recorders, Presidents, and the like. Next to these comes an ofce of which the duties are the most necessary and also the most difcult, viz. that to which is committed the execution of punishments, or the exaction of nes from those who are posted up according to the registers; and also the custody of prisoners. The difculty of this ofce arises out of the odium which is attached to it; no one will undertake it unless great prots are to be made, and anyone who does is loath to execute the law. Still the ofce is necessary; for judicial decisions are useless if they take no effect; and if society cannot exist without them, neither can it exist without the execution of them. It is an ofce which, being so unpopular, should not be entrusted to one person, but divided among several taken from different courts. In like manner an effort should be made to distribute among different persons the writing up of those who are on the register of public debtors. Some sentences should be executed by the magistrates also, and in particular penalties due to the outgoing magistrates should be exacted by the incoming ones; and as regards those due to magistrates already in ofce, when one court has given judgement, another should exact the penalty; for example, the wardens of the city should exact the nes imposed by the wardens of the agora, and others again should exact the nes imposed by them. For penalties are more likely to be exacted when less odium attaches to the exaction of them; but a double odium is incurred when the judges who have passed also execute the sentence, and if they are always the executioners, they will be the enemies of all. In many places, while one magistracy executes the sentence, another has the custody of the prisoners, as, for example, the Eleven at Athens. It is well to separate off the jailorship also, and try by some device to render the ofce less unpopular. For it is quite as necessary as that of the executioners; but good men

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do all they can to avoid it, and worthless persons cannot safely be trusted with it; for they themselves require a guard, and are not t to guard others. There ought not therefore to be a single or permanent ofcer set apart for this duty; but it should be entrusted to the young, wherever they are organized into a band or guard, and different magistrates acting in turn should take charge of it. There are the indispensable ofcers, and should be ranked rstnext in order follow others, equally necessary, but of higher rank, and requiring great experience and trustworthiness. Such are the ofces to which are committed the guard of the city, and other military functions. Not only in time of war but of peace their duty will be to defend the walls and gates, and to muster and marshal the citizens. In some states there are many such ofces; in others there are a few only, while small states are content with one; these ofcers are called generals or commanders. Again, if a state has cavalry or light-armed troops or archers or a naval force, it will sometimes happen that each of these departments has separate ofcers, who are called admirals, or generals of cavalry or of light-armed troops. And there are subordinate ofcers called naval captains, and captains of light-armed troops and of horse, having others under themall these are included in the department of war. Thus much of military command. But since some, not to say all, of these ofces handle the public money, there must of necessity be another ofce which examines and audits them, and has no other functions. Such ofcers are called by various namesScrutineers, Auditors, Accountants, Controllers. Besides all these ofces there is another which is supreme over them; for the same ofce often deals with rates and taxes, or presides, in a democracy, over the assembly. For there must be a body which convenes the supreme authority in the state. In some places they are called probuli, because they hold previous deliberations, but in a democracy more commonly councillors. These are the chief political ofces. Another set of ofcers is concerned with the maintenance of religion; priests and guardians see to the preservation and repair of the temples of the gods and to other matters of religion. One ofce of this sort may be enough in small places, but in larger ones there are a great many besides the priesthood; for example superintendents of public worship, guardians of shrines, treasurers of the sacred revenues. Nearly connected with these there are also the ofcers appointed for the performance of the public sacrices, except any which the law assigns to the priests; such sacrices derive their dignity from the public hearth of the city. They are sometimes called archons, sometimes kings, and sometimes prytanes. These, then, are the necessary ofces, which may be summed up as follows: ofces concerned with matters of religion, with war, with the revenue and expen-

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diture, with the market, with the city, with the harbours, with the country; also with the courts of law, with the records of contracts, with execution of sentences, with custody of prisoners, with audits and scrutinies and accounts of magistrates; lastly, there are those which preside over the public deliberations of the state. There are likewise magistracies characteristic of states which are peaceful and prosperous, and at the same time have a regard to good order: such as the ofces of guardians of women, guardians of the laws, guardians of children, and directors of gymnastics; also superintendents of gymnastic and Dionysiac contests, and of other similar spectacles. Some of these are clearly not democratic ofces; for example, the guardianships of women and childrenthe poor, not having any slaves, must employ both their women and children as servants. Once more: there are three ofces according to whose directions the highest magistrates are chosen in certain statesguardians of the law, probuli, councillors of these, the guardians of the law are an aristocratic, the probuli an oligarchical, the council a democratic, institution. Enough, in outline, of the different kinds of ofces.

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Book VII
1 He who would duly inquire about the best form of a state ought rst to determine which is the most eligible life; while this remains uncertain the best form of the state must also be uncertain; for, in the natural order of things, those men may be expected to lead the best life who are governed in the best manner of which their circumstances admit. We ought therefore to ascertain, rst of all, which is the most generally eligible life, and then whether the same life is or is not best for the state and for individuals. Assuming that enough has been already said in discussions outside the school concerning the best life, we will now only repeat what is contained in them. Certainly no one will dispute the propriety of that partition of goods which separates them into three classes, viz. external goods, goods of the body, and goods of the soul, or deny that the happy man must have all three. For no one would maintain that he is happy who has not in him a particle of courage or temperance or justice or practical wisdom, who is afraid of every insect which utters past him, and will commit any crime, however great, in order to gratify his lust for meat or drink, who will sacrice his dearest friend for the sake of half a farthing, and is as feeble and false in mind as a child or a madman. These propositions are almost universally acknowledged as soon as they are uttered, but men differ about the degree or relative superiority of this or that good. Some think that a very moderate amount of excellence is enough, but set no limit to their desires for wealth, property, power, reputation, and the like. To them we shall reply by an appeal to facts, which easily prove that mankind does not acquire or preserve the excellences by the help of external goods, but external goods by the help of the excellences, and that happiness, whether consisting in pleasure or excellence, or both, is more often found with those who are most highly cultivated in their mind and in their character, and have only a moderate share of external goods, than among those who possess external goods to a useless extent but are decient in higher qualities; and this is not only a matter of experience, but, if reected upon, will easily appear to be in accordance with reason. For, whereas external goods have a limit, like any other instrument, and all things useful are useful for a purpose, and where there is too much of them they must either do harm, or at any rate be of no use, to their possessors, every good of the soul, the greater it is, is also of greater use,

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if the epithet useful as well as noble is appropriate to such subjects. No proof is required to show that the best state of one thing in relation to another corresponds in degree of excellence to the interval between the natures of which we say that these very states are states: so that, if the soul is more noble than our possessions or our bodies, both absolutely and in relation to us, it must be admitted that the best state of either has a similar ratio to the other. Again, it is for the sake of the soul that goods external and goods of the body are desirable at all, and all wise men ought to choose them for the sake of the soul, and not the soul for the sake of them. Let us acknowledge then that each one has just so much of happiness as he has of excellence and wisdom, and of excellent and wise action. The gods are a witness to us of this truth, for they are happy and blessed, not by reason of any external good, but in themselves and by reason of their own nature. And herein of necessity lies the difference between good fortune and happiness; for external goods come of themselves, and chance is the author of them, but no one is just or temperate by or through chance. In like manner, and by a similar train of argument, the happy state may be shown to be that which is best and which acts rightly; and it cannot act rightly without doing right actions, and neither individual nor state can do right actions without excellence and wisdom. Thus the courage, justice, and wisdom of a state have the same form and nature as the qualities which give the individual who possesses them the name of just, wise or temperate. Thus much may sufce by way of preface: for I could not avoid touching upon these questions, neither could I go through all the arguments affecting them; these are the business of another science. Let us assume then that the best life, both for individuals and states, is the life of excellence, when excellence has external goods enough for the performance of good actions. If there are any who dispute our assertion, we will in this treatise pass them over, and consider their objections hereafter. 2 There remains to be discussed the question, whether the happiness of the individual is the same as that of the state, or different. Here again there can be no doubtno one denies that they are the same. For those who hold that the well-being of the individual consists in his wealth, also think that riches make the happiness of the whole state, and those who value most highly the life of a tyrant deem that city the happiest which rules over the greatest number; while they who approve an individual for his excellence say that the more excellent a city is, the happier it is. Two points here present themselves for consideration: rst, which is the more desirable life, that of a citizen who is a member of a state, or that of an

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alien who has no political ties; and again, which is the best form of constitution or the best condition of a state, either on the supposition that political privileges are desirable for all, or for a majority only? Since the good of the state and not of the individual is the proper subject of political thought and speculation, and we are engaged in a political discussion, while the rst of these two points has a secondary interest for us, the latter will be the main subject of our inquiry. Now it is evident that that form of government is best in which every man, whoever he is, can act best and live happily. But even those who agree in thinking that the life of excellence is the most desirable raise a question, whether the life of business and politics is or is not more desirable than one which is wholly independent of external goods, I mean than a contemplative life, which by some is maintained to be the only one worthy of a philosopher. For these two livesthe life of the philosopher and the life of the statesmanappear to have been preferred by those who have been most keen in the pursuit of excellence, both in our own and in other ages. Which is the better is a question of no small moment; for the wise man, like the wise state, will necessarily regulate his life according to the best end. There are some who think that while a despotic rule over others is the greatest injustice, to exercise a constitutional rule over them, even though not unjust, is a great impediment to a mans individual well-being. Others take an opposite view; they maintain that the true life of man is the practical and political, and that every excellence admits of being practised, quite as much by statesmen and rulers as by private individuals. Others, again, are of the opinion that arbitrary and tyrannical rule alone makes for happiness; indeed, in some states the entire aim both of the laws and of the constitution is to give men despotic power over their neighbours. And, therefore, although in most cities the laws may be said generally to be in a chaotic state, still, if they aim at anything, they aim at the maintenance of power: thus in Lacedaemon and Crete the system of education and the greater part of the laws are framed with a view to war. And in all nations which are able to gratify their ambition military power is held in esteem, for example among the Scythians and Persians and Thracians and Celts. In some nations there are even laws tending to stimulate the warlike virtues, as at Carthage, where we are told that men obtain the honour of wearing as many armlets as they have served campaigns. There was once a law in Macedonia that he who had not killed an enemy should wear a halter, and among the Scythians no one who had not slain his man was allowed to drink out of the cup which was handed round at a certain feast. Among the Iberians, a warlike nation, the number of enemies whom a man has slain is indicated by the number of obelisks which are xed in the earth round his tomb; and there are numerous practices among other nations of a like

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kind, some of them established by law and others by custom. Yet to a reecting mind it must appear very strange that the statesman should be always considering how he can dominate and tyrannize over others, whether they are willing or not. How can that which is not even lawful be the business of the statesman or the legislator? Unlawful it certainly is to rule without regard to justice, for there may be might where there is no right. The other arts and sciences offer no parallel; a physician is not expected to persuade or coerce his patients, nor a pilot the passengers in his ship. Yet most men appear to think that the art of despotic government is statesmanship, and what men afrm to be unjust and inexpedient in their own case they are not ashamed of practising towards others; they demand just rule for themselves, but where other men are concerned they care nothing about it. Such behaviour is irrational; unless the one party is, and the other is not, born to serve, in which case men have a right to command, not indeed all their fellows, but only those who are intended to be subjects; just as we ought not to hunt men, whether for food or sacrice, but only those animals which may be hunted for food or sacrice, that is to say, such wild animals as are eatable. And surely there may be a city happy in isolation, which we will assume to be well-governed (for it is quite possible that a city thus isolated might be well-administered and have good laws); but such a city would not be constituted with any view to war or the conquest of enemiesall that sort of thing must be excluded. Hence we see very plainly that warlike pursuits, although generally to be deemed honourable, are not the supreme end of all things, but only means. And the good lawgiver should inquire how states and races of men and communities may participate in a good life, and in the happiness which is attainable by them. His enactments will not be always the same; and where there are neighbours he will have to see what sort of studies should be practised in relation to their several characters, or how the measures appropriate in relation to each are to be adopted. The end at which the best form of government should aim may be properly made a matter of future consideration. 3 Let us now address those who, while they agree that the life of excellence is the most desirable, differ about the manner of practising it. For some renounce political power, and think that the life of the freeman is different from the life of the statesman and the best of all; but others think the life of the statesman best. The argument of the latter is that he who does nothing cannot do well, and that acting well is identical with happiness. To both we say: you are partly right and partly wrong. The rst class are right in afrming that the life of the freeman is better than the life of the despot; for there is nothing noble in having the use of a slave, in so far as he is a slave; or in issuing commands about necessary things.
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But it is an error to suppose that every sort of rule is despotic like that of a master over slaves, for there is as great a difference between rule over freemen and rule over slaves as there is between slavery by nature and freedom by nature, about which I have said enough at the commencement of this treatise. And it is equally a mistake to place inactivity above action, for happiness is activity, and the actions of the just and wise are the realization of much that is noble. But perhaps someone, accepting these premises, may still maintain that supreme power is the best of all things, because the possessors of it are able to perform the greatest number of noble actions. If so, the man who is able to rule, instead of giving up anything to his neighbour, ought rather to take away his power; and the father should care nothing for his son, nor the son for his father, nor friend for friend; they should not bestow a thought on one another in comparison with this higher object, for the best is the most desirable and acting well is the best. There might be some truth in such a view if we assume that robbers and plunderers attain the chief good. But this can never be; their hypothesis is false. For the actions of a ruler cannot really be honourable, unless he is as much superior to other men as a man is to a woman, or a father to his children, or a master to his slaves. And therefore he who violates the law can never recover by any success, however great, what he has already lost in departing from excellence. For equals the honourable and the just consist in sharing alike, as is just and equal. But that the unequal should be given to equals, and the unlike to those who are like, is contrary to nature, and nothing which is contrary to nature is good. If, therefore, there is anyone superior in excellence and in the power of performing the best actions, he is the man we ought to follow and obey, but he must have the capacity for action as well as excellence. If we are right in our view, and happiness is assumed to be acting well, the active life will be the best, both for every city collectively, and for individuals. Not that a life of action must necessarily have relation to others, as some persons think, nor are those ideas only to be regarded as practical which are pursued for the sake of practical results, but much more the thoughts and contemplations which are independent and complete in themselves; since acting well, and therefore a certain kind of action, is an end, and even in the case of external actions the directing mind is most truly said to act. Neither, again, is it necessary that states which are cut off from others and choose to live alone should be inactive; for activity, as well as other things, may take place by sections; there are many ways in which the sections of a state act upon one another. The same thing is equally true of every individual. If this were otherwise, the gods and the universe, who have no external actions over and above their own energies, would be far enough

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from perfection. Hence it is evident that the same life is best for each individual, and for states and for mankind collectively. 4 Thus far by way of introduction. In what has preceded I have discussed other forms of government; in what remains the rst point to be considered is what should be the conditions of the ideal or perfect state; for the perfect state cannot exist without a due supply of the means of life. And therefore we must presuppose many purely imaginary conditions, but nothing impossible. There will be a certain number of citizens, a country in which to place them, and the like. As the weaver or shipbuilder or any other artisan must have the material proper for his work (and in proportion as this is better prepared, so will the result of his art be nobler), so the statesman or legislator must also have the materials suited to him. First among the materials required by the statesman is population: he will consider what should be the number and character of the citizens, and then what should be the size and character of the country. Most persons think that a state in order to be happy ought to be large; but even if they are right, they have no idea what is a large and what a small state. For they judge of the size of the city by the number of the inhabitants; whereas they ought to regard, not their number, but their power. A city too, like an individual, has a work to do; and that city which is best adapted to the fullment of its work is to be deemed greatest, in the same sense of the word great in which Hippocrates might be called greater, not as a man, but as a physician, than some one else who was taller. And even if we reckon greatness by numbers, we ought not to include everybody, for there must always be in cities a multitude of slaves and resident aliens and foreigners; but we should include those only who are members of the state, and who form an essential part of it. The number of the latter is a proof of the greatness of a city; but a city which produces numerous artisans and comparatively few soldiers cannot be great, for a great city is not the same as a populous one. Moreover, experience shows that a very populous city can rarely, if ever, be well governed; since all cities which have a reputation for good government have a limit of population. We may argue on grounds of reason, and the same result will follow. For law is order, and good law is good order; but a very great multitude cannot be orderly: to introduce order into the unlimited is the work of a divine powerof such a power as holds together the universe. Beauty is realized in number and magnitude, and the state which combines magnitude with good order must necessarily be the most beautiful. To the size of states there is a limit, as there is to other things, plants, animals, implements; for none of these retain their natural power when they are too large or too small, but they either wholly lose their nature, or are spoiled. For
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example, a ship which is only a span long will not be a ship at all, nor a ship a quarter of a mile long; yet there may be a ship of a certain size, either too large or too small, which will still be a ship, but bad for sailing. In like manner a state when composed of too few is not, as a state ought to be, self-sufcient; when of too many, though self-sufcient in all mere necessaries, as a nation may be, it is not a state, being almost incapable of constitutional government. For who can be the general of such a vast multitude, or who the herald, unless he have the voice of a Stentor? A state, then, only begins to exist when it has attained a population sufcient for a good life in the political community: it may indeed, if it somewhat exceeds this number, be a greater state. But, as I was saying, there must be a limit. What the limit should be will be easily ascertained by experience. For both governors and governed have duties to perform; the special functions of a governor are to command and to judge. But if the citizens of a state are to judge and to distribute ofces according to merit, then they must know each others characters; where they do not possess this knowledge, both the election to ofces and the decision of lawsuits will go wrong. When the population is very large they are manifestly settled at haphazard, which clearly ought not to be. Besides, in an over-populous state foreigners and resident aliens will readily acquire the rights of citizens, for who will nd them out? Clearly then the best limit of the population of a state is the largest number which sufces for the purposes of life, and can be taken in at a single view. Enough concerning the size of a state. 5 Much the same principle will apply to the territory of the state: everyone would agree in praising the territory which is most self-sufcient; and that must be the territory which can produce everything necessary, for to have all things and to want nothing is sufciency. In size and extent it should be such as may enable the inhabitants to live at once temperately and liberally in the enjoyment of leisure. Whether we are right or wrong in laying down this limit we will inquire more precisely hereafter, when we have occasion to consider what is the right use of property and wealtha matter which is much disputed, because men are inclined to rush into one of two extremes, some into meanness, others into luxury. It is not difcult to determine the general character of the territory which is required (there are, however, some points on which military authorities should be heard); it should be difcult of access to the enemy, and easy of egress to the inhabitants. Further, we require that the land as well as the inhabitants of whom we were just now speaking should be taken in at a single view, for a country which is easily seen can be easily protected. As to the position of the city, if we could

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have what we wish, it should be well situated in regard both to sea and land. This then is one principle, that it should be a convenient centre for the protection of the whole country: the other is, that is should be suitable for receiving the fruits of the soil, and also for the bringing in of timber and any other products that are easily transported. 6 Whether a communication with the sea is benecial to a well-ordered state or not is a question which has often been asked. It is argued that the introduction of strangers brought up under other laws, and the increase of population, will be adverse to good order; the increase arises from their using the sea and having a crowd of merchants coming and going, and is inimical to good government. Apart from these considerations, it would be undoubtedly better, both with a view to safety and to the provision of necessaries, that the city and territory should be connected with the sea; the defenders of a country, if they are to maintain themselves against an enemy, should be easily relieved both by land and by sea; and even if they are not able to attack by sea and land at once, they will have less difculty in doing mischief to their assailants on one element, if they themselves can use both. Moreover, it is necessary that they should import from abroad what is not found in their own country, and that they should export what they have in excess; for a city ought to be a market, not indeed for others, but for herself. Those who make themselves a market for the world only do so for the sake of revenue, and if a state ought not to desire prot of this kind it ought not to have such an emporium. Nowadays we often see in countries and cities dockyards and harbours very conveniently placed outside the city, but not too far off; and they are kept in dependence by walls and similar fortications. Cities thus situated manifestly reap the benet of intercourse with their ports; and any harm which is likely to accrue may be easily guarded against by the laws, which will pronounce and determine who may hold communication with one another, and who may not. There can be no doubt that the possession of a moderate naval force is advantageous to a city; the city should be formidable not only to its own citizens but to some of its neighbours, or, if necessary, able to assist them by sea as well as by land. The proper number or magnitude of this naval force is relative to the character of the state; for if her function is to take a leading part in politics, her naval power should be commensurate with the scale of her enterprises. The population of the state need not be much increased, since there is no necessity that the sailors should be citizens: the marines who have the control and command will be freemen, and belong also to the infantry; and wherever there is a dense population of country people and farmers, there will always be sailors more than enough. Of
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this we see instances at the present day. The city of Heraclea, for example, although small in comparison with many others, can man a considerable eet. Such are our conclusions respecting the territory of the state, its harbours, its towns, its relations to the sea, and its maritime power.
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7 Having spoken of the number of the citizens, we will proceed to speak of what should be their character. This is a subject which can be easily understood by anyone who casts his eye on the more celebrated states of Greece, and generally on the distribution of races in the habitable world. Those who live in a cold climate and in Europe are full of spirit, but wanting in intelligence and skill; and therefore they retain comparative freedom, but have no political organization, and are incapable of ruling over others. Whereas the natives of Asia are intelligent and inventive, but they are wanting in spirit, and therefore they are always in a state of subjection and slavery. But the Hellenic race, which is situated between them, is likewise intermediate in character, being high-spirited and also intelligent. Hence it continues free, and is the best-governed of any nation, and, if it could be formed into one state, would be able to rule the world. There are also similar differences in the different tribes of Greece; for some of them are of a one-sided nature, and are intelligent or courageous only, while in others there is a happy combination of both qualities. And clearly those whom the legislator will most easily lead to excellence may be expected to be both intelligent and courageous. Some say that the guardians should be friendly towards those whom they know, erce towards those whom they do not know. Now, passion is the quality of the soul which begets friendship and enables us to love; notably the spirit within us is more stirred against our friends and acquaintances than against those who are unknown to us, when we think that we are despised by them; for which reason Archilochus, complaining of his friends, very naturally addresses his spirit in these words, For surely thou are plagued on account of friends. The power of command and the love of freedom are in all men based upon this quality, for passion is commanding and invincible. Nor is it right to say that the guardians should be erce towards those whom they do not know, for we ought not to be out of temper with anyone; and a lofty spirit is not erce by nature, but only when excited against evil-doers. And this, as I was saying before, is a feeling which men show most strongly towards their friends if they think they have received a wrong at their hands: as indeed is reasonable; for, besides the actual injury, they seem to be deprived of a benet by those who owe them one. Hence the saying, Cruel is the strife of brethren, and again, They who love in excess also hate in excess.

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Thus we have nearly determined the number and character of the citizens of our state, and also the size and nature of their territory. I say nearly, for we ought not to require the same accuracy in theory as in the facts given by perception. 8 As in other natural compounds the conditions of a composite whole are not necessarily organic parts of it, so in a state or in any other combination forming a unity not everything is a part which is a necessary condition. The members of an association have necessarily some one thing the same and common to all, in which they share equally or unequally; for example, food or land or any other thing. But where there are two things of which one exists for the sake of the other, they have nothing in common except that the one receives what the other produces. Such, for example, is the relation in which workmen and tools stand to their work; the house and the builder have nothing in common, but the art of the builder is for the sake of the house. And so states require property, but property, even though living beings are included in it, is no part of a state; for a state is a community of equals, aiming at the best life possible. Now, whereas happiness is the highest good, being a realization and perfect practice of excellence, which some can attain, while others have little or none of it, the various qualities of men are clearly the reason why there are various kinds of states and many forms of government; for different men seek after happiness in different ways and by different means, and so make for themselves different modes of life and forms of government. We must see also how many things are indispensable to the existence of a state, for what we call the parts of a state will be found among the indispensable things. Let us then enumerate the functions of a state, and we shall easily elicit what we want. First, there must be food; secondly, arts, for life requires many instruments; thirdly, there must be arms, for the members of a community have need of them, and in their own hands, too, in order to maintain authority both against disobedient subjects and against external assailants; fourthly, there must be a certain amount of revenue, both for internal needs, and for the purposes of war; fthly, or rather rst, there must be a care of religion, which is commonly called worship; sixthly, and most necessary of all, there must be a power of deciding what is for the public interest, and what is just in mens dealings with one another. These are the services which every state may be said to need. For a state is not a mere aggregate of persons, but, as we say, a union of them sufcing for the purposes of life; and if any of these things is wanting, it is impossible that the community can be absolutely self-sufcient. A state then should be framed with a view to the fullment of these functions. There must be farmers to procure food, and artisans, and a warlike and a wealthy class, and priests, and judges to decide

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9 Having determined these points, we have in the next place to consider whether all ought to share in every sort of occupation. Shall every man be at once farmer, artisan, councillor, judge, or shall we suppose the several occupations just mentioned assigned to different persons? or, thirdly, shall some employments be assigned to individuals and others common to all? The same arrangement, however, does not occur in every constitution; as we were saying, all may be shared by all, or not all by all, but only some by some; and hence arise the differences of constitutions, for in democracies all share in all, in oligarchies the opposite practice prevails. Now, since we are here speaking of the best form of government, i.e. that under which the state will be most happy (and happiness, as has been already said, cannot exist without excellence), it clearly follows that in the state which is best governed and possesses men who are just absolutely, and not merely relatively to the principle of the constitution, the citizens must not lead the life of artisans or tradesmen, for such a life is ignoble and inimical to excellence. Neither must they be farmers, since leisure is necessary both for the development of excellence and the performance of political duties. Again, there is in a state a class of warriors, and another of councillors, who advise about the expedient and determine matters of law, and these seem in an especial manner parts of a state. Now, should these two classes be distinguished, or are both functions to be assigned to the same persons? Here again there is no difculty in seeing that both functions will in one way belong to the same, in another, to different persons. To different persons in so far as these employments are suited to different primes of life, for the one requires wisdom and the other strength. But on the other hand, since it is an impossible thing that those who are able to use or to resist force should be willing to remain always in subjection, from this point of view the persons are the same; for those who carry arms can always determine the fate of the constitution. It remains therefore that both functions should be entrusted by the ideal constitution to the same persons, not, however, at the same time, but in the order prescribed by nature, who has given to young men strength and to older men wisdom. Such a distribution of duties will be expedient and also just, and is founded upon a principle of conformity to merit. Besides, the ruling class should be the owners of property, for they are citizens, and the citizens of a state should be in good circumstances; whereas artisans or any other class which is not a producer of excellence have no share in the state. This follows from our rst principle, for happiness cannot exist without excellence, and a city is not to be termed happy in regard to a portion of the citizens, but in regard to

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them all. And clearly property should be in their hands, since the farmers will of necessity be slaves or barbarian country people. Of the classes enumerated there remain only the priests, and the manner in which their ofce is to be regulated is obvious. No farmer or artisan should be appointed to it; for the gods should receive honour from the citizens only. Now since the body of the citizens is divided into two classes, the warriors and the councillors, and it is tting that the worship of the gods should be duly performed, and also a rest provided in their service for those who from age have given up active life, to the old men of these two classes should be assigned the duties of the priesthood. We have shown what are the necessary conditions, and what the parts of a state: farmers, artisans, and labourers of all kinds are necessary to the existence of states, but the parts of the state are the warriors and councillors. And these are distinguished severally from one another, the distinction being in some cases permanent, in others not. 10 It is no new or recent discovery of political philosophers that the state ought to be divided into classes, and that the warriors should be separated from the farmers. The system has continued in Egypt and in Crete to this day, and was established, as tradition says, by a law of Sesostris in Egypt and of Minos in Crete. The institution of common tables also appears to be of ancient date, being in Crete as old as the reign of Minos, and in Italy far older. The Italian historians say that there was a certain Italus king of Oenotria, from whom the Oenotrians were called Italians, and who gave the name of Italy to the promontory of Europe lying within the Scylletic and Lametic Gulfs, which are distant from one another only half a days journey. They say that this Italus converted the Oenotrians from shepherds into farmers, and besides other laws which he gave them, was the founder of their common meals; even in our day some who are derived from him retain this institution and certain other laws of his. On the side of Italy towards Tyrrhenia dwelt the Opici, who are now, as of old, called Ausones; and on the side towards Iapygia and the Ionian Gulf, in the district called Siritis, the Chones, who are likewise of Oenotrian race. From this part of the world originally came the institution of common tables; the separation into castes from Egypt, for the reign of Sesostris is of far greater antiquity than that of Minos. It is true indeed that these and many other things have been invented several times over in the course of ages, or rather times without number; for necessity may be supposed to have taught men the inventions which were absolutely required, and when these were provided, it was natural that other things which would adorn

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and enrich life should grow up by degrees. And we may infer that in political institutions the same rule holds. Egypt witnesses to the antiquity of all these things, for the Egyptians appear to be of all people the most ancient; and they have laws and a regular constitution existing from time immemorial. We should therefore make the best use of what has been already discovered, and try to supply defects. I have already remarked that the land ought to belong to those who possess arms and have a share in the government, and that the farmers ought to be a class distinct from them; and I have determined what should be the extent and nature of the territory. Let me proceed to discuss the distribution of the land, and the character of the agricultural class; for I do not think that property ought to be common, as some maintain, but only that by friendly consent there should be a common use of it; and that no citizen should be in want of subsistence. As to common meals, there is a general agreement that a well-ordered city should have them; and we will hereafter explain what are our own reasons for taking this view. They ought, however, to be open to all the citizens. And yet it is not easy for the poor to contribute the requisite sum out of their private means, and to provide also for their household. The expense of religious worship should likewise be a public charge. The land must therefore be divided into two parts, one public and the other private, and each part should be subdivided, part of the public land being appropriated to the service of the gods, and the other part used to defray the cost of the common meals; while of the private land, part should be near the border, and the other near the city, so that, each citizen having two lots, they may all of them have land in both places; there is justice and fairness in such a division and it tends to inspire unanimity among the people in their border wars. Where there is not this arrangement, some of them are too ready to come to blows with their neighbours, while others are so cautious that they quite lose the sense of honour. For this reason there is a law in some places which forbids those who dwell near the border to take part in public deliberations about wars with neighbours, on the ground that their interests will pervert their judgement. For the reasons already mentioned, then, the land should be divided in the manner described. The very best thing of all would be that the farmers should be slaves taken from among men who are not all of the same race and not spirited, for if they have no spirit they will be better suited for their work, and there will be no danger of their making a revolution. The next best thing would be that they should be barbarian country people, and of a like inferior nature; some of them should be the slaves of individuals, and employed on the private estates of men of property, the remainder should be the property of the state and employed on the common

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land. I will hereafter explain what is the proper treatment of slaves, and why it is expedient that liberty should be always held out to them as the reward of their services. 11 We have already said that the city should be open to the land and to the sea, and to the whole country as far as possible. In respect of the place itself our wish would be that its situation should be fortunate in four things. The rst, healththis is a necessity: cities which lie towards the east, and are blown upon by winds coming from the east, are the healthiest; next in healthiness are those which are sheltered from the north wind, for they have a milder winter. The site of the city should likewise be convenient both for political administration and for war. With a view to the latter it should afford easy egress to the citizens, and at the same time be inaccessible and difcult of capture to enemies. There should be a natural abundance of springs and fountains in the town, or, if there is a deciency of them, great reservoirs may be established for the collection of rain-water, such as will not fail when the inhabitants are cut off from the country by war. Special care should be taken of the health of the inhabitants, which will depend chiey on the healthiness of the locality and of the quarter to which they are exposed, and secondly, on the use of pure water; this latter point is by no means a secondary consideration. For the elements which we use most and oftenest for the support of the body contribute most to health, and among these are water and air. For this reason, in all wise states, if there is a want of pure water, and the supply is not all equally good, the drinking water ought to be separated from that which is used for other purposes. As to strongholds, what is suitable to different forms of government varies: thus an acropolis is suited to an oligarchy or a monarchy, but a plain to a democracy; neither to an aristocracy, but rather a number of strong places. The arrangement of private houses is considered to be more agreeable and generally more convenient if the streets are regularly laid out after the modern fashion which Hippodamus introduced, but for security in war the antiquated mode of building, which made it difcult for strangers to get out of a town and for assailants to nd their way in, is preferable. A city should therefore adopt both plans of building: it is possible to arrange the houses irregularly, as farmers plant their vines in what are called clumps. The whole town should not be laid out in straight lines, but only certain quarters and regions; thus security and beauty will be combined. As to walls, those who say that cities making any pretension to military virtue should not have them, are quite out of date in their notions; and they may see the cities which prided themselves on this fancy confuted by facts. True, there is little
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courage shown in seeking for safety behind a rampart when an enemy is similar in character and not much superior in number; but the superiority of the besiegers may be and often is too much both for ordinary human valour and for that which is found only in a few; and if they are to be saved and to escape defeat and outrage, the strongest wall will be the truest soldierly precaution, more especially now that missiles and siege engines have been brought to such perfection. To have no walls would be as foolish as to choose a site for a town in an exposed country, and to level the heights; or as if an individual were to leave his house unwalled, lest the inmates should become cowards. Nor must we forget that those who have their cities surrounded by walls may either take advantage of them or not, but cities which are unwalled have no choice. If our conclusions are just, not only should cities have walls, but care should be taken to make them ornamental, as well as useful for warlike purposes, and adapted to resist modern inventions. For as the assailants of a city do all they can to gain an advantage, so the defenders should make use of any means of defence which have been already discovered, and should devise and invent others, for when men are well prepared no enemy even thinks of attacking them. 12 As the walls are to be divided by guard-houses and towers built at suitable intervals, and the body of citizens must be distributed at common tables, the idea will naturally occur that we should establish some of the common tables in the guard-houses. These might be arranged as has been suggested; while the principal common tables of the magistrates will occupy a suitable place, and there also will be the buildings appropriated to religious worship except in the case of those rites which the law or the Pythian oracle has restricted to a special locality. The site should be a spot seen far and wide, which gives due elevation to excellence20 and towers over the neighbourhood. Below this spot should be established an agora, such as that which the Thessalians call the freemens agora; from this all trade should be excluded, and no artisan, farmer, or any such person allowed to enter, unless he be summoned by the magistrates. It would be a pleasing use of the place, if the gymnastic exercises of the elder men were performed there. For in this noble practice different ages should be separated, and some of the magistrates should stay with the boys, while the grown-up men remain with the magistrates; for the presence of the magistrates is the best mode of inspiring true modesty and ingenuous fear. There should also be a traders agora, distinct and apart from the other, in a situation which is convenient for the reception of goods both by sea and land.
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But we must not forget another section of the citizens, viz. the priests, for whom public tables should likewise be provided in their proper place near the temples. The magistrates who deal with contracts, indictments, summonses, and the like, and those who have the care of the agora and of the city respectively, ought to be established near an agora and some public place of meeting; the neighbourhood of the traders agora will be a suitable spot; the upper agora we devote to the life of leisure, the other is intended for the necessities of trade. The same order should prevail in the country, for there too the magistrates, called by some Inspectors of Forests and by others Wardens of the Country, must have guard-houses and common tables while they are on duty; temples should also be scattered throughout the country, dedicated some to gods and some to heroes. But it would be a waste of time for us to linger over details like these. The difculty is not in imagining but in carrying them out. We may talk about them as much as we like, but the execution of them will depend upon fortune. Therefore let us say no more about these matters for the present. 13 Returning to the constitution itself, let us seek to determine out of what and what sort of elements the state which is to be happy and well-governed should be composed. There are two things in which all well-being consists: one of them is the choice of a right end and aim of action, and the other the discovery of the actions which contribute towards it; for the means and the end may agree or disagree. Sometimes the right end is set before men, but in practice they fail to attain it; in other cases they are successful in all the contributory factors, but they propose to themselves a bad end; and sometimes they fail in both. Take, for example, the art of medicine; physicians do not always understand the nature of health, and also the means which they use may not effect the desired end. In all arts and sciences both the end and the means should be equally within our control. The happiness and well-being which all men manifestly desire, some have the power of attaining, but to others, from some accident or defect of nature, the attainment of them is not granted; for a good life requires a supply of external goods, in a less degree when men are in a good state, in a greater degree when they are in a lower state. Others again, who possess the conditions of happiness, go utterly wrong from the rst in the pursuit of it. But since our object is to discover the best form of government, that, namely, under which a city will be best governed, and since the city is best governed which has the greatest opportunity of obtaining happiness, it is evident that we must clearly ascertain the nature of happiness.

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We maintain, and have said in the Ethics, if the arguments there adduced are of any value, that happiness is the realization and perfect exercise of excellence, and this not conditional, but absolute. And I use the term conditional to express that which is indispensable, and absolute to express that which is good in itself. Take the case of just actions; just punishments and chastisements do indeed spring from a good principle, but they are good only because we cannot do without them it would be better that neither individuals nor states should need anything of the sortbut actions which aim at honour and advantage are absolutely the best. The conditional action is only the choice of a lesser evil; whereas these are the foundation and creation of good. A good man may make the best even of poverty and disease, and the other ills of life; but he can only attain happiness under the opposite conditions (for this also has been determined in the Ethics, that the good man is he for whom, because he is excellent, the things that are absolutely good are good; it is also plain that his use of these goods must be excellent and in the absolute sense good). This makes men fancy that external goods are the cause of happiness, yet we might as well say that a brilliant performance on the lyre was to be attributed to the instrument and not to the skill of the performer. It follows then from what has been said that some things the legislator must nd ready to his hand in a state, others he must provide. And therefore we can only say: may our state be constituted in such a manner as to be blessed with the goods of which fortune disposes (for we acknowledge her power): whereas excellence and goodness in the state are not a matter of chance but the result of knowledge and choice. A city can be excellent only when the citizens who have a share in the government are excellent, and in our state all the citizens share in the government; let us then inquire how a man becomes excellent. For even if we could suppose the citizen body to be excellent, without each of them being so, yet the latter would be better, for in the excellence of each the excellence of all is involved. There are three things which make men good and excellent; these are nature, habit, reason. In the rst place, every one must be born a man and not some other animal; so, too, he must have a certain character, both of body and soul. But some qualities there is no use in having at birth, for they are altered by habit, and there are some gifts which by nature are made to be turned by habit to good or bad. Animals lead for the most part a life of nature, although in lesser particulars some are inuenced by habit as well. Man has reason, in addition, and man only. For this reason nature, habit, reason must be in harmony with one another; for they do not always agree; men do many things against habit and nature, if reason persuades them that they ought. We have already determined what natures are

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likely to be most easily moulded by the hands of the legislator. All else is the work of education; we learn some things by habit and some by instruction. 14 Since every political society is composed of rulers and subjects, let us consider whether the relations of one to the other should interchange or be permanent. For the education of the citizens will necessarily vary with the answer given to this question. Now, if some men excelled others in the same degree in which gods and heroes are supposed to excel mankind in general (having in the rst place a great advantage even in their bodies, and secondly in their minds), so that the superiority of the governors was undisputed and patent to their subjects, it would clearly be better that once for all the one class should rule and the others serve. But since this is unattainable, and kings have no marked superiority over their subjects, such as Scylax afrms to be found among the Indians, it is obviously necessary on many grounds that all the citizens alike should take their turn of governing and being governed. Equality consists in the same treatment of similar persons, and no government can stand which is not founded upon justice. For if the government is unjust everyone in the country unites with the governed in the desire to have a revolution, and it is an impossibility that the members of the government can be so numerous as to be stronger than all their enemies put together. Yet that governors should be better than their subjects is undeniable. How all this is to be effected, and in what way they will respectively share in the government, the legislator has to consider. The subject has been already mentioned. Nature herself has provided the distinction when she made a difference between old and young within the same species, of whom she tted the one to govern and the other to be governed. No one takes offence at being governed when he is young, nor does he think himself better than his governors, especially if he will enjoy the same privilege when he reaches the required age. We conclude that from one point of view governors and governed are identical, and from another different. And therefore their education must be the same and also different. For he who would learn to command well must, as men say, rst of all learn to obey. As I observed in the rst part of this treatise, there is one rule which is for the sake of the rulers and another rule which is for the sake of the ruled; the former is a despotic, the latter a free government. Some commands differ not in the thing commanded, but in the intention with which they are imposed. That is why many apparently menial ofces are an honour to the free youth by whom they are performed; for actions do not differ as honourable or dishonourable in themselves so much as in the end and intention of them. But since we say that the excellence of the citizen and ruler is the same as that of the
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good man, and that the same person must rst be a subject and then a ruler, the legislator has to see that they become good men, and by what means this may be accomplished, and what is the end of the perfect life. Now the soul of man is divided into two parts, one of which has a rational principle in itself, and the other, not having a rational principle in itself, is able to obey such a principle. And we call a man in any way good because he has the excellences of these two parts. In which of them the end is more likely to be found is no matter of doubt to those who adopt our division; for in the world both of nature and of art the inferior always exists for the sake of the superior, and the superior is that which has a rational principle. This principle, too, in our ordinary way of making the division, is divided into two kinds, for there is a practical and a speculative principle. This part, then, must evidently be similarly divided. And there must be a corresponding division of actions; the actions of the naturally better part are to be preferred by those who have it in their power to attain to two out of the three or to all, for that is always to everyone the most desirable which is the highest attainable by him. The whole of life is further divided into two parts, business and leisure, war and peace, and of actions some aim at what is necessary and useful, and some at what is honourable. And the preference given to one or the other class of actions must necessarily be like the preference given to one or other part of the soul and its actions over the other; there must be war for the sake of peace, business for the sake of leisure, things useful and necessary for the sake of things honourable. All these points the statesman should keep in view when he frames his laws; he should consider the parts of the soul and their functions, and above all the better and the end; he should also remember the diversities of human lives and actions. For men must be able to engage in business and go to war, but leisure and peace are better; they must do what is necessary and indeed what is useful, but what is honourable is better. On such principles children and persons of every age which requires education should be trained. Whereas even the Greeks of the present day who are reputed to be best governed, and the legislators who gave them their constitutions, do not appear to have framed their governments with a regard to the best end, or to have given them laws and education with a view to all the excellences, but in a vulgar spirit have fallen back on those which promised to be more useful and protable. Many modern writers have taken a similar view: they commend the Lacedaemonian constitution, and praise the legislator for making conquest and war his sole aim, a doctrine which may be refuted by argument and has long ago been refuted by facts. For most men desire empire in the hope of accumulating the goods of fortune; and on this ground Thibron and all those who have written about the Lacedaemonian constitution have praised their leg-

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islator, because the Lacedaemonians, by being trained to meet dangers, gained great power. But surely they are not a happy people now that their empire has passed away, nor was their legislator right. How ridiculous is the result, if, while they are continuing in the observance of his laws and no one interferes with them, they have lost the better part of life! These writers further err about the sort of government which the legislator should approve, for the government of freemen is nobler and implies more excellence than despotic government. Neither is a city to be deemed happy or a legislator to be praised because he trains his citizens to conquer and obtain dominion over their neighbours, for there is great harm in this. On a similar principle any citizen who could, should obviously try to obtain the power in his own statethe crime which the Lacedaemonians accuse king Pausanias of attempting, although he had such great honour already. No such principle and no law having this object is either statesmanlike or useful or right. For the same things are best both for individuals and for states, and these are the things which the legislator ought to implant in the minds of his citizens. Neither should men study war with a view to the enslavement of those who do not deserve to be enslaved; but rst of all they should provide against their own enslavement, and in the second place obtain empire for the good of the governed, and not for the sake of exercising a general despotism, and in the third place they should seek to be masters only over those who deserve to be slaves. Facts, as well as arguments, prove that the legislator should direct all his military and other measures to the provision of leisure and the establishment of peace. For most of these military states are safe only while they are at war, but fall when they have acquired their empire; like unused iron they lose their edge in time of peace. And for this the legislator is to blame, he never having taught them how to lead the life of peace. 15 Since the end of individuals and of states is the same, the end of the best man and of the best constitution must also be the same; it is therefore evident that there ought to exist in both of them the excellences of leisure; for peace, as has been often repeated, is the end of war, and leisure of toil. But leisure and cultivation may be promoted not only by those excellences which are practised in leisure, but also by some of those which are useful to business. For many necessaries of life have to be supplied before we can have leisure. Therefore a city must be temperate and brave, and able to endure: for truly, as the proverb says, There is no leisure for slaves, and those who cannot face danger like men are the slaves of any invader. Courage and endurance are required for business and philosophy for leisure, temperance and justice for both, and more especially in times of peace and leisure, for war compels men to be just and temperate,
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whereas the enjoyment of good fortune and the leisure which comes with peace tend to make them insolent. Those then who seem to be the best-off and to be in the possession of every good, have special need of justice and temperancefor example, those (if such there be, as the poets say) who dwell in the Islands of the Blest; they above all will need philosophy and temperance and justice, and all the more the more leisure they have, living in the midst of abundance. There is no difculty in seeing why the state that would be happy and good ought to have these excellences. If it is disgraceful in men not to be able to use the goods of life, it is peculiarly disgraceful not to be able to use them in time of leisureto show excellent qualities in action and war, and when they have peace and leisure to be no better than slaves. That is why we should not practise excellence after the manner of the Lacedaemonians. For they, while agreeing with other men in their conception of the highest goods, differ from the rest of mankind in thinking that they are to be obtained by the practice of a single excellence. And since these goods and the enjoyment of them are greater than the enjoyment derived from the excellences . . .21 and that for its own sake, is evident from what has been said; we must now consider how and by what means it is to be attained. We have already determined that nature and habit and reason are required, and, of these, the proper nature of the citizens has also been dened by us. But we have still to consider whether the training of early life is to be that of reason or habit, for these two must accord, and when in accord they will then form the best of harmonies. Reason may be mistaken and fail in attaining the highest ideal of life, and there may be a like inuence of habit. Thus much is clear in the rst place, that, as in all other things, birth implies an antecedent beginning, and that there are beginnings whose end is relative to a further end. Now, in men reason and mind are the end towards which nature strives, so that the birth and training in custom of the citizens ought to be ordered with a view to them. In the second place, as the soul and body are two, we see also that there are two parts of the soul, the rational and the irrational, and two corresponding statesreason and appetite. And as the body is prior in order of generation to the soul, so the irrational is prior to the rational. The proof is that anger and wishing and desire are implanted in children from their very birth, but reason and understanding are developed as they grow older. For this reason, the care of the body ought to precede that of the soul, and the training of the appetitive part should follow: none the less our care of it must be for the sake of the reason, and our care of the body for the sake of the soul.
21

Dreizehnter marks a lacuna.

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16 Since the legislator should begin by considering how the bodies of the children whom he is rearing may be as good as possible, his rst care will be about marriageat what age should his citizens marry, and who are t to marry? In legislating on this subject he ought to consider the persons and the length of their life, that their procreative life may terminate at the same period, and that they may not differ in their bodily powers, as will be the case if the man is still able to beget children while the woman is unable to bear them, or the woman able to bear while the man is unable to beget, for from these causes arise quarrels and differences between married persons. Secondly, he must consider the time at which the children will succeed to their parents; there ought not to be too great an interval of age, for then the parents will be too old to derive any pleasure from their affection, or to be of any use to them. Nor ought they to be too nearly of an age; to youthful marriages there are many objectionsthe children will be lacking in respect for the parents, who will seem to be their contemporaries, and disputes will arise in the management of the household. Thirdly, and this is the point from which we digressed, the legislator must mould to his will the bodies of newlyborn children. Almost all these objects may be secured by attention to one point. Since the time of generation is commonly limited within the age of seventy years in the case of a man, and of fty in the case of a woman, the commencement of the union should conform to these periods. The union of male and female when too young is bad for the procreation of children; in all other animals the offspring of the young are small and ill-developed, and with a tendency to produce female children, and therefore also in man, as is proved by the fact that in those cities in which men and women are accustomed to marry young, the people are small and weak; in childbirth also younger women suffer more, and more of them die; some persons say that this was the meaning of the response once given to the Troezeniansthe oracle really meant that many died because they married too young; it had nothing to do with the gathering of the harvest. It also conduces to temperance not to marry too soon; for women who marry early are apt to be wanton; and in men too the bodily frame is stunted if they marry while the seed is growing (for there is a time when the growth of the seed, also, ceases, or continues to but a slight extent). Women should marry when they are about eighteen years of age, and men at thirty-seven; then they are in the prime of life, and the decline in the powers of both will coincide. Further, the children, if their birth takes place soon, as may reasonably be expected, will succeed in the beginning of their prime, when the fathers are already in the decline of life, and have nearly reached their term of three-score years and ten. Thus much of the age proper for marriage: the season of the year should also

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be considered; according to our present custom, people generally limit marriage to the season of winter, and they are right. The precepts of physicians and natural philosophers about generation should also be studied by the parents themselves; the physicians give good advice about the favourable conditions of the body, and the natural philosophers about the winds; of which they prefer the north to the south. What constitution in the parent is most advantageous to the offspring is a subject which we will consider more carefully when we speak of the education of children, and we will only make a few general remarks at present. The constitution of an athlete is not suited to the life of a citizen, or to health, or to the procreation of children, any more than the valetudinarian or exhausted constitution, but one which is in a mean between them. A mans constitution should be inured to labour, but not to labour which is excessive or of one sort only, such as is practised by athletes; he should be capable of all the actions of a freeman. These remarks apply equally to both parents. Women who are with child should take care of themselves; they should take exercise and have a nourishing diet. The rst of these prescriptions the legislator will easily carry into effect by requiring that they shall take a walk daily to some temple, where they can worship the gods who preside over birth. Their minds, however, unlike their bodies, they ought to keep quiet, for the offspring derive their natures from their mothers as plants do from the earth. As to the exposure and rearing of children, let there be a law that no deformed child shall live. But as to an excess in the number of children, if the established customs of the state forbid the exposure of any children who are born, let a limit be set to the number of children a couple may have; and if couples have children in excess, let abortion be procured before sense and life have begun; what may or may not be lawfully done in these cases depends on the question of life and sensation. And now, having determined at what ages men and women are to begin their union, let us also determine how long they shall continue to beget and bear offspring for the state; men who are too old, like men who are too young, produce children who are defective in body and mind; the children of very old men are weakly. The limit, then, should be the age which is the prime of their intelligence, and this in most persons, according to the notion of some poets who measure life by periods of seven years, is about fty; at four or ve years later, they should cease from having families; and from that time forward only cohabit with one another for the sake of health, or for some similar reason. As to adultery, let it be held disgraceful, in general, for any man or woman

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to be found in any way unfaithful when they are married, and called husband and wife. If during the time of bearing children anything of the sort occur, let the guilty person be punished with a loss of privileges in proportion to the offence. 17 After the children have been born, the manner of rearing them may be supposed to have a great effect on their bodily strength. It would appear from the example of animals, and of those nations who desire to create the military habit, that the food which has most milk in it is best suited to human beings; but the less wine the better, if they would escape diseases. Also all the motions to which children can be subjected at their early age are very useful. But in order to preserve their tender limbs from distortion, some nations have had recourse to mechanical appliances which straighten their bodies. To accustom children to the cold from their earliest years is also an excellent practice, which greatly conduces to health, and hardens them for military service. Hence many barbarians have a custom of plunging their children at birth into a cold stream; others, like the Celts, clothe them in a light wrapper only. For human nature should be early habituated to endure all which by habit it can be made to endure; but the process must be gradual. And children, from their natural warmth, may be easily trained to bear cold. Such care should attend them in the rst stage of life. The next period lasts to the age of ve; during this no demand should be made upon the child for study or labour, lest its growth be impeded; and there should be sufcient motion to prevent the limbs from being inactive. This can be secured, among other ways, by play, but the play should not be vulgar or tiring or effeminate. The Directors of Education, as they are termed, should be careful what tales or stories the children hear, for all such things are designed to prepare the way for the business of later life, and should be for the most part imitations of the occupations which they will hereafter pursue in earnest. Those are wrong who in their Laws attempt to check the loud crying and screaming of children, for these contribute towards their growth, and, in a manner, exercise their bodies. Straining the voice has a strengthening effect similar to that produced by the retention of the breath in violent exertions. The Directors of Education should have an eye to their bringing up, and in particular should take care that they are left as little as possible with slaves. For until they are seven years old they must live at home; and therefore, even at this early age, it is to be expected that they should acquire a taint of meanness from what they hear and see. Indeed, there is nothing which the legislator should be more careful to drive away than indecency of speech; for the light utterance of shameful words leads soon to shameful actions. The young especially should never be allowed to repeat or hear anything of the sort.
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A freemen who is found saying or doing what is forbidden, if he be too young as yet to have the privilege of reclining at the public tables, should be disgraced and beaten, and an elder person degraded as his slavish conduct deserves. And since we do not allow improper language, clearly we should also banish pictures or speeches from the stage which are indecent. Let the rulers take care that there be no image or picture representing unseemly actions, except in the temples of those gods at whose festivals the law permits even ribaldry, and whom the law also permits to be worshipped by persons of mature age on behalf of themselves, their children, and their wives. But the legislator should not allow youth to be spectators of iambi or of comedy until they are of an age to sit at the public tables and to drink strong wine; by that time education will have armed them against the evil inuences of such representations. We have made these remarks in a cursory mannerthey are enough for the present occasion; but hereafter we will return to the subject and after a fuller discussion determine whether such liberty should or should not be granted, and in what way granted, if at all. Theodorus, the tragic actor, was quite right in saying that he would not allow any other actor, not even if he were quite second-rate, to enter before himself, because the spectators grew fond of the voices which they rst heard. And the same principle applies universally to association with things as well as with persons, for we always like best whatever comes rst. And therefore youth should be kept strangers to all that is bad, and especially to things which suggest vice or hate. When the ve years have passed away, during the two following years they must look on at the pursuits which they are hereafter to learn. There are two periods of life with reference to which education has to be divided, from seven to the age of puberty, and onwards to the age of twenty-one. The poets who divide ages by sevens are in the main right: but we should observe the divisions actually made by nature; for the deciencies of nature are what art and education seek to ll up. Let us then rst inquire if any regulations are to be laid down about children, and secondly, whether the care of them should be the concern of the state or of private individuals, which latter is in our own day the common custom, and in the third place, what these regulations should be.

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Book VIII
1 No one will doubt that the legislator should direct his attention above all to the education of youth; for the neglect of education does harm to the constitution. The citizen should be moulded to suit the form of government under which he lives. For each government has a peculiar character which originally formed and which continues to preserve it. The character of democracy creates democracy, and the character of oligarchy creates oligarchy; and always the better the character, the better the government. Again, for the exercise of any faculty or art a previous training and habituation are required; clearly therefore for the practice of excellence. And since the whole city has one end, it is manifest that education should be one and the same for all, and that it should be public, and not privatenot as at present, when everyone looks after his own children separately, and gives them separate instruction of the sort which he thinks best; the training in things which are of common interest should be the same for all. Neither must we suppose that anyone of the citizens belongs to himself, for they all belong to the state, and are each of them a part of the state, and the care of each part is inseparable from the care of the whole. In this particular as in some others the Lacedaemonians are to be praised, for they take the greatest pains about their children, and make education the business of the state. 2 That education should be regulated by law and should be an affair of state is not to be denied, but what should be the character of this public education, and how young persons should be educated, are questions which remain to be considered. As things are, there is disagreement about the subjects. For men are by no means agreed about the things to be taught, whether we look to excellence or the best life. Neither is it clear whether education is more concerned with intellectual or with moral excellence. The existing practice is perplexing; no one knows on what principle we should proceedshould the useful in life, or should excellence, or should the higher knowledge, be the aim of our training?all three opinions have been entertained. Again, about the means there is no agreement; for different persons, starting with different ideas about the nature of excellence, naturally disagree about the practice of it. There can be no doubt that children should be taught those useful things which are really necessary, but not all useful
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things; for occupations are divided into liberal and illiberal; and to young children should be imparted only such kinds of knowledge as will be useful to them without making mechanics of them. And any occupation, art, or science, which makes the body or soul or mind of the freeman less t for the practice or exercise of excellence, is mechanical; wherefore we call those arts mechanical which tend to deform the body, and likewise all paid employments, for they absorb and degrade the mind. There are also some liberal arts quite proper for a freeman to acquire, but only in a certain degree, and if he attends to them too closely, in order to attain perfection in them, the same harmful effects will follow. The object also which a man sets before him makes a great difference; if he does or learns anything for his own sake or for the sake of his friends, or with a view to excellence, the action will not appear illiberal; but if done for the sake of others, the very same action will be thought menial and servile. The received subjects of instruction, as I have already remarked, are partly of a liberal and partly of an illiberal character.
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3 The customary branches of education are in number four; they are reading and writing, gymnastic exercises, and music, to which is sometimes added drawing. Of these, reading and writing and drawing are regarded as useful for the purposes of life in a variety of ways, and gymnastic exercises are thought to infuse courage. Concerning music a doubt may be raisedin our own day most men cultivate it for the sake of pleasure, but originally it was included in education, because nature herself, as has been often said, requires that we should be able, not only to work well, but to use leisure well; for, as I must repeat once again, the rst principle of all action is leisure. Both are required, but leisure is better than occupation and is its end; and therefore the question must be asked, what ought we to do when at leisure? Clearly we ought not to be playing, for then play would be the end of life. But if this is inconceivable, and play is needed more amid serious occupations than at other times (for he who is hard at work has need of relaxation, and play gives relaxation, whereas occupation is always accompanied with exertion and effort), we should introduce amusements only at suitable times, and they should be our medicines, for the emotion which they create in the soul is a relaxation, and from the pleasure we obtain rest. But leisure of itself gives pleasure and happiness and enjoyment of life, which are experienced, not by the busy man, but by those who have leisure. For he who is occupied has in view some end which he has not attained; but happiness is an end, since all men deem it to be accompanied with pleasure and not with pain. This pleasure, however, is regarded differently by different persons, and varies according to the habit of individuals; the pleasure of the best man is the best, and springs from the noblest

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sources. It is clear then that there are branches of learning and education which we must study merely with a view to leisure spent in intellectual activity, and these are to be valued for their own sake; whereas those kinds of knowledge which are useful in business are to be deemed necessary, and exist for the sake of other things. And therefore our fathers admitted music into education, not on the ground either of its necessity or utility, for it is not necessary, nor indeed useful in the same manner as reading and writing, which are useful in money-making, in the management of a household, in the acquisition of knowledge and in political life, nor like drawing, useful for a more correct judgement of the works of artists, nor again like gymnastic, which gives health and strength; for neither of these is to be gained from music. There remains, then, the use of music for intellectual enjoyment in leisure; which is in fact evidently the reason of its introduction, this being one of the ways in which it is thought that a freeman should pass his leisure; as Homer says But he who alone should be called to the pleasant feast, and afterwards he speaks of others whom he describes as inviting The bard who would delight them all. And in another place Odysseus says there is no better way of passing life than when mens hearts are merry and The banqueters in the hall, sitting in order, hear the voice of the minstrel. It is evident, then, that there is a sort of education in which parents should train their sons, not as being useful or necessary, but because it is liberal or noble. Whether this is of one kind only, or of more than one, and if so, what they are, and how they are to be imparted, must hereafter be determined. Thus much we are already in a position to say; for the ancients bear witness to ustheir opinion may be gathered from the fact that music is one of the received and traditional branches of education. Further, it is clear that children should be instructed in some useful thingsfor example, in reading and writingnot only for their usefulness, but also because many other sorts of knowledge are acquired through them. With a like view they may be taught drawing, not to prevent their making mistakes in their own purchases, or in order that they may not be imposed upon in the buying or selling of articles, but perhaps rather because it makes them judges of the beauty of the human form. To be always seeking after the useful does not become free
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and exalted souls. Now it is clear that in education practice must be used before theory, and the body be trained before the mind; and therefore boys should be handed over to the trainer, who creates in them the proper habit of body, and to the wrestling-master, who teaches them their exercises.
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4 Of those states which in our own day seem to take the greatest care of children, some aim at producing in them an athletic habit, but they only injure their bodies and stunt their growth. Although the Lacedaemonians have not fallen into this mistake, yet they brutalize their children by laborious exercises which they think will make them courageous. But in truth, as we have often repeated, education should not be exclusively, or principally, directed to this end. And even if we suppose the Lacedaemonians to be right in their end, they do not attain it. For among barbarians and among animals courage is found associated, not with the greatest ferocity, but with a gentle and lion-like temper. There are many races who are ready enough to kill and eat men, such as the Achaeans and Heniochi, who both live about the Black Sea; and there are other mainland tribes, as bad or worse, who all live by plunder, but have no courage. It is notorious that the Lacedaemonians themselves, while they alone were assiduous in their laborious drill, were superior to others, but now they are beaten both in war and gymnastic exercises. For their ancient superiority did not depend on their mode of training their youth, but only on the circumstance that they trained them when their only rivals did not. Hence we may infer that what is noble, not what is brutal, should have the rst place; no wolf or other wild animal will face a really noble danger; such dangers are for the brave man. And parents who devote their children to gymnastics while they neglect their necessary education, in reality make them mechanics; for they make them useful to the art of statesmanship in one quality only, and even in this the argument proves them to be inferior to others. We should judge the Lacedaemonians not from what they have been, but from what they are; for now they have rivals who compete with their education; formerly they had none. It is an admitted principle that gymnastic exercises should be employed in education, and that for children they should be of a lighter kind, avoiding severe diet or painful toil, lest the growth of the body be impaired. The evil of excessive training in early years is strikingly proved by the example of the Olympic victors; for not more than two or three of them have gained a prize both as boys and as men; their early training and severe gymnastic exercises exhausted their constitutions. When boyhood is over, three years should be spent in other studies; the period of life which follows may then be devoted to hard exercise and strict diet. Men ought

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not to labour at the same time with their minds and with their bodies; for the two kinds of labour are opposed to one another; the labour of the body impedes the mind, and the labour of the mind the body. 5 Concerning music there are some questions which we have already raised; these we may now resume and carry further; and our remarks will serve as a prelude to this or any other discussion of the subject. It is not easy to determine the nature of music, or why anyone should have a knowledge of it. Shall we say, for the sake of amusement and relaxation, like sleep or drinking, which are not good in themselves, but are pleasant, and at the same time make care to cease, as Euripides says? And for this end men also appoint music, and make use of all three alikesleep, drinking, musicto which some add dancing. Or shall we argue that music conduces to excellence, on the ground that it can form our minds and habituate us to true pleasures as our bodies are made by gymnastic to be of a certain character? Or shall we say that it contributes to the enjoyment of leisure and mental cultivation, which is a third alternative? Now obviously youths are not to be instructed with a view to their amusement, for learning is no amusement, but is accompanied with pain. Neither is intellectual enjoyment suitable to boys of that age, for it is the end, and that which is imperfect cannot attain the end. But perhaps it may be said that boys learn music for the sake of the amusement which they will have when they are grown up. If so, why should they learn themselves, and not, like the Persian and Median kings, enjoy the pleasure and instruction which is derived from hearing others? (for surely persons who have made music the business and profession of their lives will be better performers than those who practise only long enough to learn). If they must learn music, on the same principle they should learn cookery, which is absurd. And even granting that music may form the character, the objection still holds: why should we learn ourselves? Why cannot we attain true pleasure and form a correct judgement from hearing others, as the Lacedaemonians do?for they, without learning music, nevertheless can correctly judge, as they say, of good and bad melodies. Or again, if music should be used to promote cheerfulness and rened intellectual enjoyment, the objection still remainswhy should we learn ourselves instead of enjoying the performances of others? We may illustrate what we are saying by our conception of the gods; for in the poets Zeus does not himself sing or play on the lyre. Indeed we call professional performers artisans; no freeman would play or sing unless he were intoxicated or in jest. But these matters may be left for the present. The rst question is whether music is or is not to be a part of education. Of
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the three things mentioned in our discussion, which does it produceeducation or amusement or intellectual enjoyment?for it may be reckoned under all three, and seems to share in the nature of all of them. Amusement is for the sake of relaxation, and relaxation is of necessity sweet, for it is the remedy of pain caused by toil; and intellectual enjoyment is universally acknowledged to contain an element not only of the noble but of the pleasant, for happiness is made up of both. All men agree that music is one of the pleasantest things, whether with or without song; as Musaeus says, Song is to mortals of all things the sweetest. Hence and with good reason it is introduced into social gatherings and entertainments, because it makes the hearts of men glad: so that on this ground alone we may assume that the young ought to be trained in it. For innocent pleasures are not only in harmony with the end of life, but they also provide relaxation. And whereas men rarely attain the end, but often rest by the way and amuse themselves, not only with a view to a further end, but also for the pleasures sake, it may be well at times to let them nd a refreshment in music. It sometimes happens that men make amusement the end, for the end probably contains some element of pleasure, though not any ordinary pleasure; but they mistake the lower for the higher, and in seeking for the one nd the other, since every pleasure has a likeness to the end of action. For the end is not desirable for the sake of any future good, nor do the pleasures which we have described exist for the sake of any future good but of the past, that is to say, they are the alleviation of past toils and pains. And we may infer this to be the reason why men seek happiness from these pleasures. But music is pursued, not only as an alleviation of past toil, but also as providing recreation. And who can say whether, having this use, it may not also have a nobler one? In addition to this common pleasure, felt and shared in by all (for the pleasure given by music is natural, and therefore adapted to all ages and characters), may it not have also some inuence over the character and the soul? It must have such an inuence if characters are affected by it. And that they are so affected is proved in many ways, and not least by the power which the songs of Olympus exercise; for beyond question they inspire enthusiasm, and enthusiasm is an emotion of the character of the soul. Besides, when men hear imitations, even apart from the rhythms and tunes themselves, their feelings move in sympathy. Since then music is a pleasure, and excellence consists in rejoicing and loving and hating rightly, there is clearly nothing which we are so much concerned to acquire and to cultivate as the power of forming right judgements, and of taking delight in good dispositions and noble actions. Rhythm and melody supply imitations of

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anger and gentleness, and also of courage and temperance, and of all the qualities contrary to these, and of the other qualities of character, which hardly fall short of the actual affections, as we know from our own experience, for in listening to such strains our souls undergo a change. The habit of feeling pleasure or pain at mere representations is not far removed from the same feeling about realities; for example, if any one delights in the sight of a statue for its beauty only, it necessarily follows that the sight of the original will be pleasant to him. The objects of no other sense, such as taste or touch, have any resemblance to moral qualities; in visible objects there is only a little, for there are gures which are of a moral character, but only to a slight extent, and all do not participate in the feeling about them. Again, gures and colours are not imitations, but signs, of character, indications which the body gives of states of feeling. The connexion of them with morals is slight, but in so far as there is any, young men should be taught to look, not at the works of Pauson, but at those of Polygnotus, or any other painter or sculptor who expresses character. On the other hand, even in mere melodies there is an imitation of character, for the musical modes differ essentially from one another, and those who hear them are differently affected by each. Some of them make men sad and grave, like the so-called Mixolydian, others enfeeble the mind, like the relaxed modes, another, again, produces a moderate and settled temper, which appears to be the peculiar effect of the Dorian; the Phrygian inspires enthusiasm. The whole subject has been well treated by philosophical writers on this branch of education, and they conrm their arguments by facts. The same principles apply to rhythms; some have a character of rest, others of motion, and of these latter again, some have a more vulgar, others a nobler movement. Enough has been said to show that music has a power of forming the character, and should therefore be introduced into the education of the young. The study is suited to the stage of youth, for young persons will not, if they can help, endure anything which is not sweetened by pleasure, and music has a natural sweetness. There seems to be in us a sort of afnity to musical modes and rhythms, which makes some philosophers say that the soul is a harmony, others, that it possesses harmony. 6 And now we have to determine the question which has been already raised, whether children should be themselves taught to sing and play or not. Clearly there is a considerable difference made in the character by the actual practice of the art. It is difcult, if not impossible, for those who do not perform to be good judges of the performance of others. Besides, children should have something to do, and the rattle of Archytas, which people give to their children in order to amuse them and prevent them from breaking anything in the house, was a cap1340b20-1340b32

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ital invention, for a young thing cannot be quiet. The rattle is a toy suited to the infant mind, and education is a rattle or toy for children of a larger growth. We conclude then that they should be taught music in such a way as to become not only critics but performers. The question what is or is not suitable for different ages may be easily answered; nor is there any difculty in meeting the objection of those who say that the study of music is mechanical. We reply in the rst place, that they who are to be judges must also be performers, and that they should begin to practise early, although when they are older they may be spared the execution; they must have learned to appreciate what is good and to delight in it, thanks to the knowledge which they acquired in their youth. As to the vulgarizing effect which music is supposed to exercise, this is a question which we shall have no difculty in determining when we have considered to what extent freemen who are being trained to political excellence should pursue the art, what melodies and what rhythms they should be allowed to use, and what instruments should be employed in teaching them to play; for even the instrument makes a difference. The answer to the objection turns upon these distinctions; for it is quite possible that certain methods of teaching and learning music do really have a degrading effect. It is evident then that the learning of music ought not to impede the business of riper years, or to degrade the body or render it unt for civil or military training, whether for bodily exercises at the time or for later studies. The right measure will be attained if students of music stop short of the arts which are practised in professional contests, and do not seek to acquire those fantastic marvels of execution which are now the fashion in such contests, and from these have passed into education. Let the young practise even such music as we have prescribed, only until they are able to feel delight in noble melodies and rhythms, and not merely in that common part of music in which every slave or child and even some animals nd pleasure. From these principles we may also infer what instruments should be used. The ute, or any other instrument which requires great skill, as for example the harp, ought not to be admitted into education, but only such as will make men intelligent students of music or of the other parts of education. Besides, the ute is not an instrument which is expressive of character; it is too exciting. The proper time for using it is when the performance aims not at instruction, but at the relief of the passions. And there is a further objection; the impediment which the ute presents to the use of the voice detracts from its educational value. The ancients therefore were right in forbidding the ute to youths and freemen, although they had once allowed it. For when their wealth gave them a greater inclination

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to leisure, and they had loftier notions of excellence, being also elated with their success, both before and after the Persian War, with more zeal than discernment they pursued every kind of knowledge, and so they introduced the ute into education. In Lacedaemon there was a choragus who led the chorus with a ute, and at Athens the instrument became so popular that most freemen could play upon it. The popularity is shown by the tablet which Thrasippus dedicated when he furnished the chorus to Ecphantides. Later experience enabled men to judge what was or was not really conducive to excellence, and they rejected both the ute and several other old-fashioned instruments, such as the Lydian harp, the many-stringed lyre, the heptagon, triangle, sambuca, and the likewhich are intended only to give pleasure to the hearer, and require extraordinary skill of hand. There is a meaning also in the myth of the ancients, which tells how Athene invented the ute and then threw it away. It was not a bad idea of theirs that the Goddess disliked the instrument because it made the face ugly; but with still more reason may we say that she rejected it because the acquirement of ute-playing contributes nothing to the mind, since to Athene we ascribe both knowledge and art. Thus then we reject the professional instruments and also the professional mode of education in music (and by professional we mean that which is adopted in contests), for in this the performer practises the art, not for the sake of his own improvement, but in order to give pleasure, and that of a vulgar sort, to his hearers. For this reason the execution of such music is not the part of a freeman but of a paid performer, and the result is that the performers are vulgarized, for the end at which they aim is bad. The vulgarity of the spectator tends to lower the character of the music and therefore of the performers; they look to himhe makes them what they are, and fashions even their bodies by the movements which he expects them to exhibit. 7 We have also to consider rhythms and modes, and their use in education. Shall we use them all or make a distinction? and shall the same distinction be made for those who practise music with a view to education, or shall it be some other? Now we see that music is produced by melody and rhythm, and we ought to know what inuence these have respectively on education, and whether we should prefer excellence in melody or excellence in rhythm. But as the subject has been very well treated by many musicians of the present day, and also by philosophers who have had considerable experience of musical education, to these we would refer the more exact student of the subject; we shall only speak of it now after the manner of the legislator, stating the general principles.

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We accept the division of melodies proposed by certain philosophers into melodies of character, melodies of action, and passionate or inspiring melodies, each having, as they say, a mode corresponding to it. But we maintain further that music should be studied, not for the sake of one, but of many benets, that is to say, with a view to education, or purgation (the word purgation we use at present without explanation, but when hereafter we speak of poetry, we will treat the subject with more precision); music may also serve for intellectual enjoyment, for relaxation and for recreation after exertion. It is clear, therefore, that all the modes must be employed by us, but not all of them in the same manner. In education the modes most expressive of character are to be preferred, but in listening to the performances of other we may admit the modes of action and passion also. For feelings such as pity and fear, or, again, enthusiasm, exist very strongly in some souls, and have more or less inuence over all. Some persons fall into a religious frenzy, and we see them restored as a result of the sacred melodieswhen they have used the melodies that excite the soul to mystic frenzyas though they had found healing and purgation. Those who are inuenced by pity or fear, and every emotional nature, must have a like experience, and others in so far as each is susceptible to such emotions, and all are in a manner purged and their souls lightened and delighted. The melodies which purge the passions likewise give an innocent pleasure to mankind. Such are the modes and the melodies in which those who perform music at the theatre should be invited to compete. But since the spectators are of two kindsthe one free and educated, and the other a vulgar crowd composed of artisans, labourers, and the likethere ought to be contests and exhibitions instituted for the relaxation of the second class also. And the music will correspond to their minds; for as their minds are perverted from the natural state, so there are perverted modes and highly strung and unnaturally coloured melodies. A man receives pleasure from what is natural to him, and therefore professional musicians may be allowed to practise this lower sort of music before an audience of a lower type. But, for the purposes of education, as I have already said, those modes and melodies should be employed which are expressive of character, such as the Dorian, as we said before; though we may include any others which are approved by philosophers who have had a musical education. The Socrates of the Republic is wrong in retaining only the Phrygian mode along with the Dorian, and the more so because he rejects the ute; for the Phrygian is to the modes what the ute is to musical instrumentsboth of them are exciting and emotional. Poetry proves this, for Bacchic frenzy and all similar emotions are most suitably expressed by the ute, and are better set to the Phrygian than to any other mode. The dithyramb, for example, is acknowledged to be Phrygian, a fact of which

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the connoisseurs of music offer many proofs, saying, among other things, that Philoxenus, having attempted to compose his Mysians as a dithyramb in the Dorian mode, found it impossible, and fell back by the very nature of things into the more appropriate Phrygian. All men agree that the Dorian music is the gravest and manliest. And whereas we say that the extremes should be avoided and the mean followed, and whereas the Dorian is a mean between the other modes, it is evident that our youth should be taught the Dorian music. Two principles have to be kept in view, what is possible, and what is becoming: at these every man ought to aim. But even these are relative to age; the old, who have lost their powers, cannot very well sing the high-strung modes, and nature herself seems to suggest that their songs should be of the more relaxed kind. That is why the musicians too blame Socrates, and with justice, for rejecting the relaxed modes in education under the idea that they are intoxicating, not in the ordinary sense of intoxication (for wine rather tends to excite men), but because they have no strength in them. And so, with a view also to the time of life when men begin to grow old, they ought to practise the gentler modes and melodies as well as the others, and, further, any mode, such as the Lydian above all others appears to be, which is suited to children of tender age, and possesses the elements both of order and of education. Thus it is clear that education should be based upon three principlesthe mean, the possible, the becoming, these three.

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ECONOMICS
Aristotle

The Complete Works of Aristotle

Electronic markup by Jamie L. Spriggs InteLex Corporation P.O. Box 859, Charlottesville, Virginia, 22902-0859, USA Available via ftp or on Macintosh or DOS CD-ROM from the publisher.

Complete Works (Aristotle). Jonathan Barnes, Princeton University Press, Princeton, N.J. 1991.

These texts are part of the Past Masters series. This series is an attempt to collect the most important texts in the history of philosophy, both in original language and English translation (if the original language is other English). All Greek has been transliterated and is delimited with the term tag.

May 1996 Jamie L. Spriggs, InteLex Corp. publisher Converted from Folio Flat File to TEI.2-compatible SGML; checked against print text; parsed against local teilite dtd.

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ARISTOTLE THE REVISED OXFORD TRANSLATION Edited by JONATHAN BARNES VOLUME TWO BOLLINGEN SERIES LXXI 2 PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS Copyright 1984 by The Jowett Copyright Trustees Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William St., Princeton, New Jersey In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, Oxford No part of this electronic edition may be printed without written permission from The Jowett Copyright Trustees and Princeton University Press. All Rights Reserved THIS IS PART TWO OF THE SEVENTY-FIRST IN A SERIES OF WORKS SPONSORED BY BOLLINGEN FOUNDATION Printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey Second Printing, 1985 Fourth Printing, 1991 987654

Contents
Preface . . . . . . . Acknowledgements Note to the Reader ECONOMICS* . . Book I . . . . Book II . . . Book III . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii v vi 2 2 8 23

PREFACE
BENJAMIN JOWETT1 published his translation of Aristotles Politics in 1885, and he nursed the desire to see the whole of Aristotle done into English. In his will he left the perpetual copyright on his writings to Balliol College, desiring that any royalties should be invested and that the income from the investment should be applied in the rst place to the improvement or correction of his own books, and secondly to the making of New Translations or Editions of Greek Authors. In a codicil to the will, appended less than a month before his death, he expressed the hope that the translation of Aristotle may be nished as soon as possible. The Governing Body of Balliol duly acted on Jowetts wish: J. A. Smith, then a Fellow of Balliol and later Waynete Professor of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, and W. D. Ross, a Fellow of Oriel College, were appointed as general editors to supervise the project of translating all of Aristotles writings into English; and the College came to an agreement with the Delegates of the Clarendon Press for the publication of the work. The rst volume of what came to be known as The Oxford Translation of Aristotle appeared in 1908. The work continued under the joint guidance of Smith and Ross, and later under Rosss sole editorship. By 1930, with the publication of the eleventh volume, the whole of the standard corpus aristotelicum had been put into English. In 1954 Ross added a twelfth volume, of selected fragments, and thus completed the task begun almost half a century earlier. The translators whom Smith and Ross collected together included the most eminent English Aristotelians of the age; and the translations reached a remarkable standard of scholarship and delity to the text. But no translation is perfect, and all translations date: in 1976, the Jowett Trustees, in whom the copyright of the Translation lies, determined to commission a revision of the entire text. The Oxford Translation was to remain in substance its original self; but alterations were to be made, where advisable, in the light of recent scholarship and with the requirements of modern readers in mind. The present volumes thus contain a revised Oxford Translation: in all but three treatises, the original versions have been conserved with only mild emendations.
The text of Aristotle: The Complete Works is The Revised Oxford Translation of The Complete Works of Aristotle, edited by Jonathan Barnes, and published by Princeton University Press in 1984. Each reference line contains the approximate Bekker number range of the paragraph if the work in question was included in the Bekker edition.
1

PREFACE

iii

(The three exceptions are the Categories and de Interpretatione, where the translations of J. L. Ackrill have been substituted for those of E. M. Edgehill, and the Posterior Analytics, where G. R. G. Mures version has been replaced by that of J. Barnes. The new translations have all been previously published in the Clarendon Aristotle series.) In addition, the new Translation contains the tenth book of the History of Animals, and the third book of the Economics, which were not done for the original Translation; and the present selection from the fragments of Aristotles lost works includes a large number of passages which Ross did not translate. In the original Translation, the amount and scope of annotation differed greatly from one volume to the next: some treatises carried virtually no footnotes, others (notably the biological writings) contained almost as much scholarly commentary as textthe work of Ogle on the Parts of Animals or of dArcy Thompson on the History of Animals, Beares notes to On Memory or Joachims to On Indivisible Lines, were major contributions to Aristotelian scholarship. Economy has demanded that in the revised Translation annotation be kept to a minimum; and all the learned notes of the original version have been omitted. While that omission represents a considerable impoverishment, it has reduced the work to a more manageable bulk, and at the same time it has given the constituent translations a greater uniformity of character. It might be added that the revision is thus closer to Jowetts own intentions than was the original Translation. The revisions have been slight, more abundant in some treatises than in others but amounting, on the average, to some fty alterations for each Bekker page of Greek. Those alterations can be roughly classied under four heads. (i) A quantity of work has been done on the Greek text of Aristotle during the past half century: in many cases new and better texts are now available, and the reviser has from time to time emended the original Translation in the light of this research. (But he cannot claim to have made himself intimate with all the textual studies that recent scholarship has thrown up.) A standard text has been taken for each treatise, and the few departures from it, where they affect the sense, have been indicated in footnotes. On the whole, the reviser has been conservative, sometimes against his inclination. (ii) There are occasional errors or infelicities of translation in the original version: these have been corrected insofar as they have been observed. (iii) The English of the original Translation now seems in some respects archaic in its vocabulary and in its syntax: no attempt has been made to impose a consistently modern style upon the translations, but where archaic English might mislead the modern reader, it has been replaced by more current idiom.

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(iv) The fourth class of alterations accounts for the majority of changes made by the reviser. The original Translation is often paraphrastic: some of the translators used paraphrase freely and deliberately, attempting not so much to English Aristotles Greek as to explain in their own words what he was intending to conveythus translation turns by slow degrees into exegesis. Others construed their task more narrowly, but even in their more modest versions expansive paraphrase from time to time intrudes. The revision does not pretend to eliminate paraphrase altogether (sometimes paraphrase is venial; nor is there any precise boundary between translation and paraphrase); but it does endeavor, especially in the logical and philosophical parts of the corpus, to replace the more blatantly exegetical passages of the original by something a little closer to Aristotles text. The general editors of the original Translation did not require from their translators any uniformity in the rendering of technical and semitechnical terms. Indeed, the translators themselves did not always strive for uniformity within a single treatise or a single book. Such uniformity is surely desirable; but to introduce it would have been a massive task, beyond the scope of this revision. Some effort has, however, been made to remove certain of the more capricious variations of translation (especially in the more philosophical of Aristotles treatises). Nor did the original translators try to mirror in their English style the style of Aristotles Greek. For the most part, Aristotle is terse, compact, abrupt, his arguments condensed, his thought dense. For the most part, the Translation is owing and expansive, set out in well-rounded periods and expressed in a language which is usually literary and sometimes orotund. To that extent the Translation produces a false impression of what it is like to read Aristotle in the original; and indeed it is very likely to give a misleading idea of the nature of Aristotles philosophizing, making it seem more polished and nished than it actually is. In the revisers opinion, Aristotles sinewy Greek is best translated into correspondingly tough English; but to achieve that would demand a new translation, not a revision. No serious attempt has been made to alter the style of the originala style which, it should be said, is in itself elegant enough and pleasing to read. The reviser has been aided by several friends; and he would like to acknowledge in particular the help of Mr. Gavin Lawrence and Mr. Donald Russell. He remains acutely conscious of the numerous imperfections that are left. Yetas Aristotle himself would have put itthe work was laborious, and the reader must forgive the reviser for his errors and give him thanks for any improvements which he may chance to have effected. March 1981 J. B.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE TRANSLATIONS of the Categories and the de Interpretatione are reprinted here by permission of Professor J. L. Ackrill and Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1963); the translation of the Posterior Analytics is reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1975); the translation of the third book of the Economics is reprinted by permission of The Loeb Classical Library (William Heinemann and Harvard University Press); the translation of the fragments of the Protrepticus is based, with the authors generous permission, on the version by Professor Ingemar D uring.

NOTE TO THE READER

THE TRADITIONAL corpus aristotelicum contains several works which were certainly or probably not written by Aristotle. A single asterisk against the title of a work indicates that its authenticity has been seriously doubted; a pair of asterisks indicates that its spuriousness has never been seriously contested. These asterisks appear both in the Table of Contents and on the title pages of the individual works concerned. The title page of each work contains a reference to the edition of the Greek text against which the translation has been checked. References are by editors name, series or publisher (OCT stands for Oxford Classical Texts), and place and date of publication. In those places where the translation deviates from the chosen text and prefers a different reading in the Greek, a footnote marks the fact and indicates which reading is preferred; such places are rare. The numerals printed in the outer margins key the translation to Immanuel Bekkers standard edition of the Greek text of Aristotle of 1831. References consist of a page number, a column letter, and a line number. Thus 1343a marks column one of page 1343 of Bekkers edition; and the following 5, 10, 15, etc. stand against lines 5, 10, 15, etc. of that column of text. Bekker references of this type are found in most editions of Aristotles works, and they are used by all scholars who write about Aristotle.

ECONOMICS*

ECONOMICS*
Translated by E. S. Forster (Book III by G. C. Armstrong)2

Book I
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1 The sciences of politics and economics differ not only as widely as a household and a city (the subject-matter with which they severally deal), but also in the fact that the science of politics involves a number of rulers, whereas the sphere of economics is a monarchy. Now certain of the arts fall into sub-divisions, and it does not pertain to the same art to manufacture and to use the article manufactured, for instance, a lyre or pipes; but the function of political science is both to constitute a city in the beginning and also when it has come into being to make a right use of it. It is clear, therefore, that it must be the function of economic science too both to found a household and also to make use of it. Now a city is an aggregate made up of households and land and property, selfsufcient with regard to a good life. This is clear from the fact that, if men cannot attain this end, the community is dissolved. Further, it is for this end that they associate together; and that for the sake of which any particular thing exists and has come into being is its substance. It is evident, therefore, that economics is prior in origin to politics; for its function is prior, since a household is part of a
2

TEXT: B. A. van Groningen and A. Wartelle, Bud e, Paris, 1968

ECONOMICS: Book I city. We must therefore examine economics and see what its function is.

2 The parts of a household are man and property. But since the nature of any given thing is most quickly seen by taking its smallest parts, this would apply also to a household. So, according to Hesiod, it would be necessary that there should be First and foremost a house, a woman, and an ox for the plough . . . ,3 for the rst point concerns subsistence, the second free men. We should have, therefore, to organize properly the association of husband and wife; and this involves providing what sort of a woman she ought to be. In regard to property the rst care is that which comes naturally. Now in the course of nature the art of agriculture is prior, and next come those arts which extract the products of the earth, mining and the like. Agriculture ranks rst because of its justice; for it does not take anything away from men, either with their consent, as do retail trading and the mercenary arts, or against their will, as do the warlike arts. Further, agriculture is natural; for by nature all derive their sustenance from their mother, and so men derive it from the earth. In addition to this it also conduces greatly to bravery; for it does not make mens bodies unserviceable, as do the illiberal arts, but it renders them able to lead an open-air life and work hard; furthermore it makes them adventurous against the foe, for husbandmen are the only citizens whose property lies outside the fortications. 3 As regards the human part of the household, the rst care is concerning a wife; for a common life is above all things natural to the female and to the male. For we have elsewhere laid down the principle that nature aims at producing many such forms of association, just as also it produces the various kinds of animals. But it is impossible for the female to accomplish this without the male or the male without the female, so that their common life has necessarily arisen. Now in the other animals this intercourse is not based on reason, but depends on the amount of natural instinct which they possess and is entirely for the purpose of procreation. But in the civilized and more intelligent animals the bond of unity is more complex (for in them we see more mutual help and goodwill and co-operation), above all in the case of man, because the female and the male co-operate to ensure not merely existence but a good life. And the production of children is not
3

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Works and Days, 405.

Aristotle

only a way of serving nature but also of securing advantage; for the trouble which parents bestow upon their helpless children when they are themselves vigorous is repaid to them in old age when they are helpless by their children, who are then in their full vigour. At the same time also nature thus periodically provides for the perpetuation of mankind as a species, since she cannot do so individually. Thus the nature both of the man and of the woman has been preordained by the will of heaven to live a common life. For they are distinguished in that the powers which they possess are not applicable to purposes in all cases identical, but in some respects their functions are opposed to one another though they all tend to the same end. For nature has made the one sex stronger, the other weaker, that the latter through fear may be the more cautious, while the former by its courage is better able to ward off attacks; and that the one may acquire possessions outside the house, the other preserve those within. In the performance of work, she made one sex able to lead a sedentary life and not strong enough to endure exposure, the other less adapted for quiet pursuits but well constituted for outdoor activities; and in relation to offspring she has made both share in the procreation of children, but each render its peculiar service towards them, the woman by nurturing, the man by educating them.
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4 First, then, he must not do her any wrong; for thus a man is less likely himself to be wronged. This is inculcated by the general law, as the Pythagoreans say, that one least of all should injure a wife as being a suppliant and taken from her hearth. Now wrong inicted by a husband is the formation of connexions outside his own house. As regards association, she ought not to need him when he is present or be incapacitated in his absence, but should be accustomed to be competent whether he is present or not. The saying of Hesiod is a good one: A man should marry a maiden, that habits discreet he may teach her.4 For dissimilarity of habits tends more than anything to destroy affection. As regards adornment, husband and wife ought not to approach one another with false affectation in their person any more than in their manners; for if the society of husband and wife requires such embellishment, it is no better than play-acting on the tragic stage.

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4

5 Of possessions, that which is the best and the worthiest subject of ecoWorks and Days, 699.

ECONOMICS: Book I

nomics comes rst and is most essentialI mean, man. It is necessary therefore rst to provide oneself with good slaves. Now slaves are of two kinds, the overseer and the worker. And since we see that methods of education produce a certain character in the young, it is necessary when one has procured slaves to bring up carefully those to whom the higher duties are to be entrusted. The intercourse of a master with his slaves should be such as to allow them to be neither insolent nor uncontrolled. To the higher class of slaves he ought to give some share of honour, and to the workers abundance of nourishment. And since the drinking of wine makes even freemen insolent, and many nations even of freemen abstain therefrom (the Carthaginians, for instance, when they are on military service), it is clear that wine ought never to be given to slaves, or at any rate very seldom. Three things make up the life of a slave, work, punishment, and food. To give them food but no punishment and no work makes them insolent; and that they should have work and punishment but no food is tyrannical and destroys their efciency. It remains therefore to give them work and sufcient food; for it is impossible to rule without offering rewards, and a slaves reward is his food. And just as all other men become worse when they get no advantage by being better and there are no rewards for virtue and vice, so also is it with servants. Therefore we must take careful notice and bestow or withhold everything, whether food or clothing or leisure or punishments, according to merit, in word and deed following the practice adopted by physicians in the matter of medicine, remembering at the same time that food is not medicine because it must be given continually. The slave who is best suited for his work is the kind that is neither too cowardly nor too courageous. Slaves who have either of these characteristics are injurious to their owners; those who are too cowardly lack endurance, while the high-spirited are not easy to control. All ought to have a denite end in view; for it is just and benecial to offer slaves their freedom as a prize, for they are willing to work when a prize is set before them and a limit of time is dened. One ought to bind slaves to ones service by letting them have children, and not to have many persons of the same race in a household, any more than in a state. One ought to provide sacrices and pleasures more for the sake of slaves than for freemen; for in the case of the former there are present more of the reasons why such things have been instituted. 6 The householder has four roles in relation to wealth. He ought to be able to acquire it, and to guard it; otherwise there is no advantage in acquiring it, but it is a case of drawing water with a sieve, or the proverbial jar with a hole in it. Further, he ought to be able to order his possessions aright and make a proper use

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of them; for it is for these purposes that we require wealth. The various kinds of property ought to be distinguished, and those which are productive ought to be more numerous than the unproductive, and the sources of income ought to be so distributed that they may not run a risk with all their possessions at the same time. For the preservation of wealth it is best to follow both the Persian and the Laconian methods. The Attic system of economy is also useful; for they sell their produce and buy what they want, and thus there is not the need of a storehouse in the smaller establishments. The Persian system was that everything should be organized and that the master should superintend everything personally, as Dio said of Dionysius; for no one looks after the property of others as well as he looks after his own, so that, as far as possible, a man ought to attend to everything himself. The sayings of the Persian and the Libyan may not come amiss; the former of whom, when asked what was the best thing to fatten a horse, replied, His masters eye, while the Libyan, when asked what was the best manure, answered, The masters foot-prints. Some things should be attended to by the master, others by his wife, according to the sphere allotted to each in the economy of the household. Inspections need only be made occasionally in small establishments, but should be frequent where overseers are employed. For good imitation is impossible unless a good example is set, especially when trust is delegated to others; for unless the master is careful, it is impossible for his overseers to be careful. And since it is good for the formation of character and useful in the interests of economy, masters ought to rise earlier than their slaves and retire to rest later, and a house should never be left unguarded any more than a city, and when anything needs doing it ought not to be left undone, whether it be day or night. There are occasions when a master should rise while it is still night; for this helps to make a man healthy and wealthy and wise. On small estates the Attic system of disposing of the produce is a useful one; but on large estates, where a distinction is made between yearly and monthly expenditure and likewise between the daily and the occasional use of household appliances, such matters must be entrusted to overseers. Furthermore, a periodical inspection should be made, in order to ascertain what is still existing and what is lacking. The house must be arranged both with a view to ones possessions and for the health and well-being of its inhabitants. By possessions I mean the consideration of what is suitable for produce and clothing, and in the case of produce what is suitable for dry and what for moist produce, and amongst other possessions what is suitable for property whether animate or inanimate, for slaves and freemen, women and men, strangers and citizens. With a view to well-being and health, the house ought to be airy in summer and sunny in winter. This would be best secured

ECONOMICS: Book I

if it faces north and is not as wide as it is long. In large establishments a man who is no use for other purposes seems to be usefully employed as a doorkeeper to safeguard what is brought into and out of the house. For the ready use of household appliances the Laconian method is a good one; for everything ought to have its own proper place and so be ready for use and not require to be searched for.

Aristotle

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1 He who intends to practise economy aright ought to be fully acquainted with the places in which his labour lies and to be naturally endowed with good parts and by choice industrious and upright; for if he is lacking in any of these respects, he will make many mistakes in the business which he takes in hand. Now there are four kinds of economy, that of the king, that of the provincial governor, that of the city, and that of the individual. This is a broad method of division; and we shall nd that the other forms of economy fall within it. Of these that of the king is the most important and the simplest, . . . ,5 that of the city is the most varied and the easiest, that of the individual the least important and the most varied. They must necessarily have most of their characteristics in common; but it is the points which are peculiar to each kind that we must consider. Let us therefore examine royal economy rst. It is universal in its scope, but has four special departmentsthe coinage, exports, imports, and expenditure. To take each of these separately: in regard to the coinage, I mean the question as to what coin should be struck and when; in the matter of exports and imports, what commodities it will be advantageous to receive from the satraps in tax and dispose of and when; in regard to expenditure, what expenses ought to be curtailed and when, and whether one should pay what is expended in coin or in commodities which have an equivalent value. Let us next take satrapic economy. Here we nd six kinds of revenue[from land, from the peculiar products of the district, from merchandise, from taxes, from cattle, and from all other sources].6 Of these the rst and most important is that which comes from land (which some call tax on land-produce, others tithe); next in importance is the revenue from peculiar products, from gold, or silver, or copper, or anything else which is found in a particular locality; thirdly comes that derived from merchandise; fourthly, the revenue from the cultivation of the soil and from market-dues; fthly, that which comes from cattle, which is called tax on animal produce or tithe; and sixthly, that which is derived from men, which is called the poll-tax or tax on artisans. Thirdly, let us examine the economy of the city. Here the most important
5 6

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ECONOMICS: Book II

source of revenue is from the peculiar products of the country, next comes that derived from merchandise and customs, and lastly that which comes from the ordinary taxes. Fourthly and lastly, let us take individual economy. Here we nd wide divergences, because economy is not necessarily always practised with one aim in view. It is the least important kind of economy, because the incomings and expenses are small. Here the main source of revenue is the land, next other kinds of regular activity, and thirdly investments of money. Further, there is a consideration which is common to all branches of economy and which calls for the most careful attention, especially in individual economy, namely, that the expenditure must not exceed the income. Now that we have mentioned the divisions of the subject, we must next consider whether the satrapy or city with which we are dealing can produce all, or the most important revenues which we have just distinguished; if it can, it should use them. Next we must consider which sources of revenue do not exist at all but can be introduced, or are at present small but can be augmented; and which of the expenses at present incurred, and to what amount, can be dispensed with without doing any harm to the whole. We have now mentioned the various kinds of economy and their constituent parts. We have further made a collection of all the methods that we conceived to be worth mentioning, which men of former days have employed or cunningly devised in order to provide themselves with money. For we conceived that this information also might be useful; for a man will be able to apply some of these instances to such business as he himself takes in hand. 2 Cypselus, the Corinthian, having vowed to Zeus that, if he made himself master of the city, he would dedicate to him all the property of the Corinthians, ordered them to draw up a list of their possessions. When they had done so, he took a tenth part from each citizen and told them to trade with the remainder. As each year came round, he did the same thing again, with the result that in ten years he had all that he had consecrated to the god, while the Corinthians had acquired other property. Lygdamis, the Naxian, having driven certain men into exile, when no one was willing to buy their possessions except at a low price, sold them to the exiles themselves. And offerings belonging to them which were lying half nished in certain workshops he sold to the exiles and any one else who wished to buy them, allowing the name of the purchaser to be inscribed upon them. The Byzantines being in need of money sold the sacred enclosures belonging

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to the state. Those which were fertile they sold on lease, and those which were unproductive in perpetuity. They treated in the same way the enclosures which belonged to associations and clans and all which were situated on private estates; for the owners of the rest of the property bought them at a high price. To the associations they sold other lands, viz. the public lands round the gymnasium, or the market-place, or the harbour; and they sold the places where markets were held at which various commodities were sold, and the rights over the sea-sheries and the sale of salt, and . . .7 of jugglers, and soothsayers, and druggists, and other such persons plied their trades; but they ordered them to pay over a third of their prots. And they sold the right of changing money to a single bank, and no one else might either give money in exchange to anyone, or receive it in exchange from anyone, under penalty of forfeiting the money. And whereas there was a law amongst them that no one should have political rights who was not born of parents who were both citizens, being in want of money they passed a decree that a man who was sprung from a citizen on one side only should become a citizen if he paid down thirty minae. And as they were suffering from want of food and lack of money, they made the ships from the Black Sea put in; but, as time went on, the merchants protested and so they paid them interest at ten per cent. and ordered those who purchased anything to pay the ten per cent. in addition to the price. And whereas certain resident aliens had lent money on security of property, because these had not the right to hold property, they passed a decree that any one who wished could obtain a title to the property by paying a third of the loan to the state. Hippias, the Athenian, put up for sale the parts of the upper rooms which projected into the public streets, and the steps and fences in front of the houses, and the doors which opened outwards. The owners of the property therefore bought them, and a large sum was thus collected. He also declared the coinage then current in Athens to be base, and xing a price for it ordered it to be brought to him; but when they met to consider the striking of a new type of coin, he gave them back the same money again. And if anyone was about to equip a trireme or a division of cavalry or to provide a tragic chorus or incur expense on any other such state-service, he xed a moderate ne and allowed him, if he liked, to pay this and be enrolled amongst those who had performed state services. He also ordered that a measure of barley, and another of wheat, and an obol should be brought to the priestess of Athena-on-the-Acropolis on behalf of anyone who died, and that the same offering should be made by anyone to whom a child was born.
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The Athenians who dwell in Potidaea, being in need of money to carry on war, ordered all the citizens to draw up a list of their property, each man enrolling not his whole property collectively in his own deme, but each piece of property separately in the place where it was situated, in order that the poor might give in an assessment; anyone who possessed no property was to assess his own person at two minae. On the basis of this assessment they each contributed the amount enjoined. Sosipolis of Antissa, when the city was in want of money, since the citizens were wont to celebrate the feast of Dionysus with great splendour and every year went to great expense in providing, amongst other things, very costly victims, persuaded them, when the festival was near at hand, to vow to Dionysus that they would give double offerings the next year and collect and sell the dedications for the current year. Thus a substantial sum was collected for the needs of the moment. The people of Lampsacus, expecting a large eet of triremes to come against them, ordered the dealers to sell a medimnus of barley-meal, of which the market price was four drachmae, at six drachmae, and a chous of oil, the price of which was three drachmae, at four drachmae and a half, and likewise wine and the other commodities. The individual seller thus received the old price, while the city gained the surplus and so was well provided with money. The people of Heraclea, when they were sending forty ships against the tyrants on the Bosporus, not being well provided with money, bought up from the merchants all their corn and oil and wine and the rest of their stores, xing a date in the future at which they were to make the payment. Now it suited the merchants better to sell their cargoes wholesale rather than retail. So the people of Heraclea, giving the soldiers two months pay, took the provisions with them on board merchant-vessels and put an ofcial in charge of each of the ships. When they reached the enemies territory, the soldiers bought up all the provisions from them. Thus money was collected before the generals had to pay the soldiers again, and so the same money was distributed time after time until they returned home. When the Samians begged for money for their return home, the Lacedaemonians passed a decree that they would fast for one day, themselves and their domestics and their beasts of burden, and would give to the Samians the amount that each of them usually expended. The Chalcedonians, having a large number of foreign mercenaries in their city, owed them pay which they could not give them. They therefore proclaimed that if any citizen or resident alien had any right of seizure against any state or individual and wished to exercise it, they should give in their names. When many did so,

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they seized the ships which sailed into the Black Sea on a plausible pretext, and appointed a time at which they promised to give an account of their captures. When a large sum of money had been collected they dismissed the soldiers and submitted themselves to trial for their reprisals, and the state out of its revenues made restitution to those who had been unjustly plundered. When the people of Cyzicus were at variance and the popular party had gained the upper hand and the wealthy citizens had been imprisoned, they passed a decree, since they owed money to their soldiers, that they would not put their prisoners to death, but would exact money from them and send them into exile. The Chians, who have a law that a public register of debts should be kept, being in want of money decreed that debtors should pay their debts to the state and that the state should disburse the interest from its revenues to the creditors until they should be able to restore the principal. Mausolus, tyrant of Caria, when the king of Persia sent and ordered him to pay his tribute, collected together the richest men in the country and told them that the king was demanding the tribute, but he himself could not provide it. And certain men, who had been suborned to do so, immediately promised to contribute and named the amount that each would give. Upon this the wealthier men, partly through shame and partly from fear, promised and actually contributed far larger sums. On another occasion when he was in need of money, he called together the Mylassians and told them that this city of his, though it was their mother-city, was unfortied and that the king of Persia was marching against him. He therefore ordered the Mylassians each to contribute as much money as possible, saying that by what they paid now they would save the rest of their possessions. When a large contribution had been made, he kept the money and told them that at the moment the god would not allow them to build the wall. Condalus, a governor under Mausolus, whenever during his passage through the country anyone brought him a sheep or a pig or a calf, used to make a record of the donor and the date and order him to take it back home and keep it until he returned. When he thought that sufcient time had elapsed, he used to ask for the animal which was being kept for him, and reckoned up and demanded the produce-tax on it as well. And any trees which projected over or fell into the royal roads he used to sell . . . the produce-taxes.8 And if any soldier died, he demanded a drachma as a toll for the corpse passing the gates; and so he not only received money from this source, but also the ofcers could not deceive him as to the date
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13

of the soldiers death. Also, noticing that the Lycians were fond of wearing their hair long, he said that a dispatch had come from the king of Persia ordering him to send hair to make false fringes and that he was therefore commanded by Mausolus to cut off their hair. He therefore said that, if they would pay him a xed poll-tax, he would have hair sent from Greece. They gladly gave him what he asked, and a large sum of money was collected from a great number of them. Aristotle, the Rhodian, who was governor of Phocaea, was in want of money. Perceiving therefore that there were two parties amongst the Phocaeans, he made secret overtures to one party saying that the other faction was offering him money on condition that he would turn the scale in their favour, but that for his own part he would rather receive money from them and give the direction of affairs into their hands. When they heard this, those who were present immediately gave him the money, supplying him with all he asked for. He then went to the other party and showed them what he had received from their opponents; whereupon they also professed their willingness to give him an equal sum. So he took the money from both parties and reconciled them one with another. Also, noticing that there was much litigation among the citizens and that there were grievances of long standing among them owing to war, he established a court of law and proclaimed that unless they submitted their cases to judgement within a period which he appointed, there would be no further settlement of their former claims. Then getting control of a number of suits and of the cases which were subject to appeal with damages, and receiving money from both parties by other means, he collected a large sum. The Clazomenians, when they were suffering from famine and were in want of money, decreed that private individuals who had any olive oil should lend it to the state, which would pay them interest. Now olives are abundant in this country. When the owners had lent them the oil, they hired ships and sent it to the marts from which their corn came, giving the value of the oil as a pledge. And when they owed pay to their soldiers to the amount of twenty talents and could not provide it, they paid the generals four talents a year as interest. But nding that they did not reduce the principal and that they were continually spending money to no purpose, they struck an iron coinage to represent a sum of twenty talents of silver, and then distributing it among the richest citizens in proportion to their wealth they received in exchange an equivalent sum in silver. Thus the individual citizens had money to disburse for their daily needs and the state was freed from debt. They then paid them interest out of their revenues and continually divided it up and distributed it in proper proportions, and called in the iron coinage. The Selymbrians were once in need of money: they had a law which forbade the export of corn; when a famine occurred and they had a supply of last seasons

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corn, they passed a decree that private persons should hand over their corn to the state at a xed price, each reserving a years supply; they then allowed anyone who wished to export his supply, xing a price which they thought would give them a prot. The people of Abydos, when their land was untilled owing to political dissensions and the resident aliens were paying them nothing because they still owed them money, passed a decree that anyone who was willing should lend money to the farmers in order that they might till the soil, providing that they should enjoy the rst-fruits of the crop and that the others should have what remained. The Ephesians, being in need of money, made a law that their women should not wear gold ornaments, but should lend to the state what they already possessed; and xing the amount which was to be paid they allowed the name of any one who presented that sum to be inscribed as that of the dedicator on certain of the pillars in the temple. Dionysius of Syracuse, wishing to collect money, called together an assembly and declared that Demeter had appeared to him and bade him bring the ornaments of the women to her temple. He had therefore, he said, done so with the ornaments of the women of his own household; and he demanded that everyone else should do the same, lest vengeance from the goddess should fall upon them. Anyone who refused would, he said, be guilty of sacrilege. When all had brought what they possessed through fear of the goddess and dread of Dionysius, after dedicating the ornaments to the goddess he then appropriated them, saying that they were lent to him by her. And when some time had elapsed and the women began wearing ornaments again, he ordered that any women who wished to wear jewellery of gold should dedicate a xed sum in the temple. And when he was intending to build triremes, he knew that he would be in want of money. He therefore called together an assembly and said that a certain city was to be betrayed to him and that he needed money for this purpose. He therefore asked the citizens to contribute two staters each; and they did so. He then let two or three days elapse, and pretending that he had failed in his attempt, after commending their generosity he gave every man his contribution back again. By this action he won the hearts of the citizens. And so they again contributed, thinking that they would receive their money back again; but he took the money and kept it for building his ships. And when he was in need of money he struck a coinage of tin, and calling an assembly together he spoke at great length in favour of the money which had been coined; and they, even against their will, decreed that everyone should regard any of it that he accepted as silver and not as tin.

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On another occasion, being in want of money, he asked the citizens to give him contributions; but they declared that they had nothing to give. Accordingly he brought out his own household goods and offered them for sale, as though compelled to do so by poverty. When the Syracusans bought them, he kept a record of what each had bought, and when they had paid the price, he ordered each of them to bring back the articles which he had bought. And when the citizens owing to the taxes could not keep cattle, he said that he had enough up to the present; those therefore who acquired cattle should now be free from a tax on them. But since many soon acquired a large number of cattle, thinking that they could keep them without paying a tax on them, when he thought that a tting moment had come he gave orders that they should assess their value and then imposed a tax. Accordingly the citizens, angry at having been deceived, slew their cattle and sold them. And when, to prevent this, he ordered them to kill only as many as were needed for daily use, they next devoted them for sacrice to the gods. Dionysius then forbade them to sacrice any female beast. On another occasion when he was in need of money, he ordered all families of orphans to enrol themselves; and when they9 had done so, he enjoyed their property until each came of age. And after he had captured Rhegium he called an assembly of the inhabitants together and informed them that he would be quite justied in enslaving them, but under the circumstances he would let them go free if he received the amount which he had spent on the war and three minae a head from all of them. The Rhegians then brought to light the wealth which before had been hidden, and the poor borrowed from the richer citizens and from foreigners and provided the sum which he demanded. When he had received it from them he nevertheless sold them all as slaves, and seized all the treasures which had before been hidden and were now brought to light. Also having borrowed money from the citizens under promise of repayment, when they demanded it back he ordered them to bring him whatever money any of them possessed, threatening them with death as the penalty if they failed to do so. When the money had been brought, he issued it again after stamping it afresh so that each drachma had the value of two drachmae, and paid back the original debt and the money which they brought him on this occasion.10 And when he sailed against Tyrrhenia with a hundred ships he took much gold and silver and a considerable quantity of other ornaments of all kinds from
9 10

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Omitting allon. Reading proteron apedoke kai ho nyn anenegkan.

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the temple of Leucothea. And knowing that the sailors too were keeping many things for themselves, he made a proclamation that everyone should bring him the half of what he had and might retain the other half; and he threatened with death anyone who failed to deliver up the half. The sailors, supposing that if they gave up the half they would be allowed undisturbed possession of the rest, did so; but Dionysius, when he had received it, ordered them to go back and bring him the other half. The Mendaeans used the proceeds of their harbour customs and their other dues for the administration of their city, but did not exact the taxes on land and houses; but they kept a register of property-owners, and whenever they needed money, they paid as though they owed taxes. They thus proted during the time which elapsed by having full use of the money without paying interest. When they were at war with the Olynthians and needed money, seeing that they had slaves they decreed that a female and a male slave should be left to each citizen and the rest sold, so that private individuals might lend money to the state. Callistratus the Athenian, when the harbour-dues in Macedonia were usually sold at twenty talents, made them fetch double that price. For, noticing that the richer men always bought them because it was necessary that the sureties provided for the twenty talents should be possessed of one talent, he proclaimed that anyone who liked could purchase them and that sureties should be provided for only a third or any other proportion which each could guarantee. Timotheus, the Athenian, when he was at war with the Olynthians, and in need of money, struck a bronze coinage and distributed it to the soldiers. When they protested, he told them that the merchants and retailers would all sell their goods on the same terms as before. He then told the merchants, if they received any bronze money, to use it again to buy the commodities sent in for sale from the country and anything which was brought in as plunder, and said that, if they brought him any bronze money which they had left over, they should receive silver for it. When he was making war in the neighbourhood of Corcyra and was in difculties, and the soldiers were demanding their pay and refusing to obey him and threatening to go over to the enemy, he called together an assembly and told them that no money could reach him owing to the stormy weatherthough he had, he declared, such an abundance of supplies that he offered them as a free gift the three months rations which they had already received. They, supposing that Timotheus would never have made such a valuable concession unless he really expected the money, kept silence about the pay; and he meanwhile achieved the objects which he had in view.

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When he was besieging Samos he actually sold to the inhabitants the fruits and the produce of their lands, and so had abundance of money to pay his soldiers. And when there was a shortage of provisions in the camp owing to the arrival of newcomers, he forbade the sale of corn ready ground, and of any smaller measure than a medimnus, and of any liquid in a smaller quantity than a metreta. Accordingly the commanders of divisions and companies bought up provisions wholesale and distributed them to the soldiers, while the newcomers brought their own provisions with them and, when they departed, sold anything that they had left. The result was that the soldiers had an abundance of provisions. Datames, the Persian, having soldiers under his command, could supply their daily needs from the enemys country, but having no money to give them, and being requested to pay them, when the time came at which it was due he devised the following plan. He called together an assembly and told them that he had no lack of money, but that it was in a certain place which he named. He therefore moved his camp and started to march thither. Then when he was near the place, he went in advance to it and took from the temples there all the embossed silver plate which they contained. He then loaded his mules so that the silver plate was visible and they looked as though they were carrying silver, and continued the march. The soldiers, when they saw it, thought that the loads were all solid silver and were encouraged, thinking that they would receive their pay. But Datames told them that he must go to Amisus and have the silver minted. Now the journey to Amisus was one of many days and exposed to the weather. So all this time he made use of the army, merely giving them their rations. He kept in his personal service all the skilled articers in the army and the retailers who carried on trafc in any commodity; and no one else was permitted to do any of these things. Chabrias, the Athenian, advised Taus, king of Egypt, when he was starting on an expedition and was in need of money, to say to the priests that owing to the expense some of the temples and the majority of the priests must be dispensed with. When the priests heard this, each wishing to retain his own temple and to remain a priest himself, they offered him money. And when Taus had accepted money from all of them, Chabrias advised him to order them to expend a tenth part of the amount which they formerly spent on their temple and themselves, and to lend the rest to him until the war against the king of Persia should come to an end. And he advised him to x the necessary amount and demand a contribution from each household and likewise from each individual; and that, when corn was sold, the buyer and the seller should give an obol for each artabe over and above the price; and that he should demand the payment of a tenth part of the prots

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derived from shipping and manufactures and any other form of industry. And he advised him, when he was leaving the country on an expedition, to order that any unminted silver or gold which anyone possessed should be brought to him: and when most people brought it, he advised him to make use of it and to commend the lenders to the provincial governors so that they might repay them out of the taxes.
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Iphicrates, the Athenian, when Cotys had collected an army, provided him with money in the following way. He advised him to order the men under his command to sow land for him with three medimni of corn. The result of this was that a great quantity of corn was collected. Accordingly he brought it down to the markets and sold it, and thus gained an abundance of money. Cotys, the Thracian, tried to borrow money from the Peirinthians so that he might pay his soldiers; but the Peirinthians refused to give him any. He therefore begged them at any rate to grant him some men from among their citizens to act as a garrison for certain strongholds, in order that he might make full use of the soldiers who were at present on duty there. To this request they promptly acceded, thinking that they would thus obtain possession of these strongholds. But Cotys threw into prison those who were sent and ordered the Peirinthians to recover them by sending him the money which he wished to borrow from them. Mentor, the Rhodian, having arrested Hermeias and seized his estates, allowed the overseers whom Hermeias had appointed to retain their positions. But when they all felt secure and took steps to recover anything which had been hidden or deposited for safety elsewhere, he arrested them and deprived them of all they had. Memnon, the Rhodian, after making himself master of Lampsacus, was in need of money. He therefore exacted a heavy tribute from the richest citizens, telling them that they could collect it from the rest of the citizens. But when the latter had contributed, he ordered them to lend him this sum as well, xing a period within which he would pay them back. On another occasion when he was in need of money, he demanded contributions from them, saying that they should be repaid out of the revenues. They therefore contributed, thinking that they would soon receive their money back. But when the time was at hand for the payment of the revenues, he told them that he needed these revenues as well, but would repay them later with interest. He also excused himself from paying the rations and wages of those who were serving under him for six days in the year, declaring that on these days they had

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no watch to keep, no marching and no expenses, meaning the omitted days.11 As he was already giving the soldiers their rations on the second day of the new month, he thus passed over three days in the rst month and ve by the following month, and so on till he reached a total of thirty days. Charidemus of Orus, who held certain places in Aeolia, when Artabazus was marching against him needed money to pay his soldiers. At rst, then, the citizens gave him contributions, but afterwards they declared that they had nothing left to give. Charidemus then ordered the inhabitants of the place which he thought was richest to send away to another place any coin or other valuable treasure which they possessed, and he promised to give them an escort; at the same time it was clear that he himself was also removing his valuables. When they had obeyed him, he led them a little way outside the city and, after examining what they had, took all that he needed and sent them back again. He also made a proclamation in the cities over which he ruled that no one was to keep any arms in his house, the penalty for so doing being a ne which he specied. He then took no further action and paid no attention to the matter. The citizens, thinking that he had not meant the proclamation to be taken seriously, continued to keep the arms which they happened to possess. But Charidemus suddenly instituted a house to house search and exacted the ne from those in whose houses he found any arms. A certain Philoxenus, a Macedonian who was satrap of Caria, being in need of money, said that he intended to celebrate the Dionysia, and he nominated the richest of the Carians to defray the cost of the choruses and gave directions as to what they had to supply. But seeing that they were annoyed, he sent to them secretly and asked them what they were willing to give to be released from serving. They declared their readiness to give considerably more than they thought it would cost them, in order to be freed from the trouble and the neglect of their private affairs which it would entail. Philoxenus accepted what they offered and put others on the list, until he had received even more than he had wanted . . .12 Evaeses, the Syrian, being satrap of Egypt, discovering that the provincial governors were on the point of revolting from him, summoned them to the palace and hanged them all, and ordered that their relatives should be told that they were in prison. Their relatives therefore severally began to negotiate on their behalf and tried to buy the release of the captives. Evaeses made an agreement in each case and, after receiving the sums for which he had stipulated, restored them to their relativesdead.
11 12

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I.e. the six days omitted from the year, one in each of the six 29-day months. The text is corrupt here.

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Cleomenes, an Alexandrian who was satrap of Egypt, when there was a severe famine everywhere else while Egypt was less seriously affected, forbade the export of corn, and when the provincial governors declared that they would not be able to pay the tribute because corn could not be exported, he cancelled the prohibition, but put a heavy tax on the corn. The result was that, if he did not . . .13 he received a large tax at the cost of a small exportation and the provincial governors lost their excuse. As he was sailing through the district in which the crocodile is regarded as a deity, one of his slaves was carried off. He therefore summoned the priests and told them that since he had been injured without provocation he intended to take vengeance on the crocodiles, and gave orders to hunt them. The priests, in order that their god might not be held in contempt, collected all the gold that they possessed and presented it to him, with the result that he desisted. When king Alexander commanded him to found a city near the Pharos and to establish there the mart which was formerly held at Canopus, he sailed to Canopus and told the priests and the owners of property there that he had come to transfer them. The priests and inhabitants collected and gave him a sum of money to induce him to leave their mart undisturbed. This he accepted and for the moment left them alone, but afterwards, when he had the material for building ready, he sailed to Canopus and demanded an excessive amount of money from them, which he said represented the difference to him between having the mart near the Pharos and at Canopus. And when they said that they would not be able to give him the money he made them move their city. And when he had sent someone to make a purchase and discovered that his messenger had got what he wanted cheaply but intended to charge him an excessive price, he told the friends of the purchaser that he had heard that he had made his purchases at an excessive price and therefore he would go there himself; at the same time with assumed wrath he railed against his stupidity. When they heard this they told Cleomenes that he ought not to believe those who spoke against the messenger until he came himself and rendered his account. When the purchaser arrived they told him what Cleomenes had said; and he, wishing to make a good impression on them and on Cleomenes, submitted the prices at which he had actually bought the goods. When corn was being sold in the country at ten drachmae, he summoned the dealers and asked them at what price they would do business with him. They named a lower price than that at which they were selling to the merchants. How13

van Groningen and Wartelle mark a lacuna.

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ever, he ordered them to hand over their corn at the same price as they were selling to everyone else; and xing the price of corn at thirty-two drachmae he then sold it himself. He also called the priests together and told them that the expenditure on the temples in the country was excessive; consequently some of the temples and the majority of the priests must be abolished. The priests individually and collectively gave him the sacred treasures, thinking that he really intended to carry out his threat and because each wished that his own temple should be undisturbed and himself continue to be priest. When Alexander was in the region of Babylon, Antimenes the Rhodian h emiolios raised money in the following way. An ancient law existed in Babylonia that anything which was brought into the country should pay a duty of ten per cent., but no one ever enforced it. Antimenes, waiting till all the satraps and soldiers were expected and no small number of ambassadors and craftsmen . . .14 and persons travelling on their own private affairs, and many gifts were being brought up, exacted the ten per cent. duty according to the existing law. On another occasion, when providing the slaves who were to look after the camp, he commanded that any owner who wished should register the value which he put upon them, and they were to pay eight drachmae a year; if the slave ran away the owner was to receive the price which he had registered. Many slaves being registered, he amassed a considerable sum of money. And whenever any slave ran away he ordered the satrap of the country15 in which the camp was situated to recover the runaway or else to pay the price to the owner. Ophelas, the Olynthian, having appointed a superintendent over the province of Athribis, when the provincial governors of that district came to him and expressed their willingness to pay of their own accord a much larger sum and begged him to dismiss the superintendent whom he had just appointed, asked them if they would be able to pay what they promised; when they answered in the afrmative he left the superintendent at his post and bade him exact the amount of tribute which they themselves had assessed. Thus he did not think it right either to degrade the ofcial whom he had appointed or to impose a heavier tribute upon them than they themselves had xed, but at the same time he himself received a far larger amount of money. Pythocles, the Athenian, recommended to the Athenians that the state should take the lead from the mines at Laurium out of private hands at the market price of
14 15

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The text is corrupt here. Reading tes ges.

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two drachmae and that they should then themselves x the price at six drachmae and so sell it. Chabrias, when crews had been enrolled for a hundred and twenty ships and Taus only needed sixty, ordered the crews of the sixty ships which remained behind to supply those who sailed with two months provisions, or else to sail themselves. They, wishing to attend to their own affairs, complied with his demand. Antimenes ordered the satraps to keep the storehouses along the royal roads lled according to the custom of the country; but whenever an army or any other body of men unaccompanied by the king passed along, he used to send one of his own men and sell the contents of the storehouses. Cleomenes, when the rst day of the month was approaching and he had to give his soldiers their rations, purposely put back into harbour, and as the new month advanced he put out again and distributed the rations; he then left an interval until the rst day of the next month. The soldiers, therefore, because they had recently received their rations, kept quiet; and Cleomenes by passing over a month each year . . .16 Stabelbius, the Mysian, when he owed his soldiers pay, called the ofcers together17 and told them that he had no need of private soldiers but only of ofcers, and that, when he did need soldiers, he would give each ofcer a sum of money and send him out to collect mercenaries, and that he would rather give the ofcers the pay which ought to go to the soldiers. He therefore ordered them each to send away their own levies out of the country. The ofcers, thinking that it would be an opportunity to make money, dismissed the soldiers in accordance with his commands. But after a short interval he collected the ofcers together and told them that just as a ute player was no use without a chorus, so too ofcers were useless without private soldiers; he therefore ordered them to leave the country. Dionysius, when he was making a round of the temples, whenever he saw a gold or silver table displayed, ordered that a libation should be poured out to good luck and that the table should be carried off; and whenever he saw amongst the statues one which held out a wine cup, he would say, I accept your pledge, and order the statue to be carried away. And he used to strip the gold from the statues, saying that he would give them others lighter and more fragrant; he then clad them with white garments and crowns of white poplar.

16 17

The text is corrupt. Reading ho Mysos, opheilon stratiotais misthon, sygkalesas tous hegemonas.

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BOOK III18
1 A good wife should be the mistress of her home, having under her care all that is within it, according to the rules we have laid down. She should allow none to enter without her husbands knowledge, dreading above all things the gossip of gadding women, which tends to poison the soul. She alone should have knowledge of what happens within, whilst if any harm is wrought by those from without, her husband will bear the blame. She must exercise control of the money spent on such festivities as her husband has approved, keeping well within the limit set by law upon expenditure, dress, and ornament; and remembering that beauty depends not on costliness of raiment, nor does abundance of gold so conduce to the excellence of a woman as self-control in all that she does, and her inclination towards an honourable and well-ordered life. For such adornment as this both elevates the mind and is a far surer warrant for the payment, to the woman herself in her old age and to her children after her, of the due meed of praise. This, then, is the province over which a woman should be minded to bear an orderly rule; for it seems not tting that a man should know all that passes within the house. But in all other matters, let it be her aim to obey her husband; giving no heed to public affairs, nor desiring any part in arranging the marriages of her children. Rather, when the time shall come to give or receive in marriage sons or daughters, let her even then hearken to her husband in all respects, and agreeing with him obey his behest; considering that it is less unseemly for him to deal with a matter within the house than it is for her to pry into those outside its walls. It is tting that a woman of well-ordered life should consider that her husbands uses are as laws appointed for her own life by divine will, along with the marriage state and the fortune she shares. If she endures them with patience and gentleness, she will rule her home with ease; otherwise, not so easily. Hence not only when her husband is in prosperity and good report does it beseem her to be in agreement with him, and to render him the service he wills, but also in times of adversity. If, through sickness or fault of judgement, his good fortune fails, then must she show her quality, encouraging him ever with words of cheer and yielding him
This book survives only in Latin translation; it is not included in Bekkers edition, so that the customary Bekker-references are absent. The English translation is adapted from that of G. C. Armstrong.
18

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obedience in all tting ways; only let her do nothing base or unworthy of herself, or remember any wrong her husband may have done her through distress of mind. Let her refrain from all complaint, nor charge him with the wrong, but rather attribute everything of this kind to sickness or ignorance or accidental errors. For the more sedulous her service herein, the fuller will be his gratitude when he is restored, and freed from his sickness; and if she has failed to obey him when he commanded aught that is amiss, the deeper will be his recognition when health returns. Hence, whilst careful to avoid obedience in such circumstances, in other respects she will serve him more assiduously than if she had been a bondwoman bought and taken home. For he has indeed bought her with a great pricewith partnership in his life and in the procreation of children; than which things nought could be greater or more sacred. And besides all this, the wife who had only lived in company with a fortunate husband would not have had the like opportunity to show her true quality. For though there is no small merit in a right and noble use of prosperity, still the right endurance of adversity justly receives an honour greater by far. For only a great soul can live in the midst of trouble and wrong without itself committing any base act. And so, while praying that her husband may be spared adversity, if trouble should come it beseems the wife to consider that here a good woman wins her highest praise. Let her bethink herself how Alcestis would never have attained such renown nor Penelope have deserved all the high praises bestowed on her had not their husbands known adversity; whereas the troubles of Admetus and Ulysses have obtained for their wives a reputation that shall never die. For because in time of distress they proved themselves faithful and dutiful to their husbands, the gods have bestowed on them the honour they deserved. To nd partners in prosperity is easy enough; but only the best women are ready to share in adversity. For all these reasons it is tting that a woman should pay her husband an honour greater by far, nor feel shame on his account even when, as Orpheus says, Holy health of soul, and wealth, the child of a brave spirit, companion him no more.
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2 Such then is the pattern of the rules and ways of living which a good wife will observe. And the rules which a good husband will follow in treatment of his wife will be similar; seeing that she has entered his home as the partner of his life and his children; and that the offspring she leaves behind her will bear the names of their parents, her name as well as his. And what could be more sacred than this, or more desired by a man of sound mind, than to beget by a noble and honoured wife children who, as shepherds of their old age, shall be the most loyal and discreet guardians of their father and mother, and the preservers of the whole

ECONOMICS: Book III

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house? Rightly reared by father and mother, children will grow up virtuous, as those who have treated them piously and righteously deserve that they should; but without such education they will be awed. For unless parents have given their children an example of how to live, the children in their turn will be able to offer a fair and specious excuse. Such parents will risk being rejected by their offspring for their evil lives, and thus bringing destruction upon their own heads. Hence his wifes training should be the object of a mans unstinting care; that so far as is possible their children may spring from the noblest of stock. For the tiller of the soil spares no pains to sow his seed in the most fertile and best cultivated land, looking thus to obtain the fairest fruits; and to save it from devastation he is ready, if such be his lot, to fall in conict with his foes, a death which men crown with the highest of praise. Seeing, then, that such care is lavished on the bodys food, surely every care should be taken on behalf of our own childrens mother and nurse, in whom is implanted the seed from which there springs a living soul. For it is only by this means that each mortal, successively produced, participates in immortality; and that petitions and prayers continue to be offered to ancestral gods. So that he who thinks lightly of this would seem also to be slighting the gods. Thus it is on behalf of the gods, in whose presence he offered sacrice, that he led his wife home, promising to honour her far above all others except his parents. Now a virtuous wife is best honoured when she sees that her husband is faithful to her, and has no preference for another woman, but before all others loves and trusts her and holds her as his own. And so much the more will the woman seek to be what he accounts her, if she perceives that her husbands affection for her is faithful and righteous, and she too will be faithful and righteous towards him. Hence a man of sound mind ought not to forget what honours are proper to his parents or what ttingly belong to his wife and children; so that rendering to each and all their own, he may obey the law of men and of gods. For the deprivation we feel most of all is that of the special honour which is our due; nor will abundant gifts of what belongs to others be welcome to him who is dispossessed of his own. Now to a wife nothing is of more value, nothing more rightfully her own, than honoured and faithful partnership with her husband. Hence it bets not a man of sound mind to bestow his person promiscuously, or have random intercourse with women; for otherwise the base-born will share in the rights of his lawful children, and his wife will be robbed of her honour due, and shame be attached to his sons. 3 To all these matters, therefore, a man should give heed. And it is tting

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that he should approach his wife in an honourable way, full of self-restraint and awe; and in his conversation with her, should use only the words of a right-minded man, suggesting only such acts as are themselves lawful and honourable; treating her with much self-restraint and trust, and passing over any trivial or unintentional errors she has committed. And if through ignorance she has done wrong, he should advise her of it without threatening, in a courteous and modest manner. Indifference and harsh reproof he must alike avoid. Between a courtesan and her lover, such tempers are allowed their course; between a free woman and her lawful spouse there should be a reverent and modest mingling of love and fear. For of fear there are two kinds. The fear which virtuous and honourable sons feel towards their fathers, and loyal citizens towards rightminded rulers, has for its companions reverence and modesty; but the other kind, felt by slaves for masters and by subjects for despots who treat them with injustice and wrong, is associated with hostility and hatred. Reecting on all this, a husband should choose the better course and secure the agreement, loyalty, and devotion of his wife, so that whether he himself is present or not, there may be no difference in her attitude towards him, since she realizes that they are alike guardians of the common interests; and so when he is away she may feel that to her no man is kinder or more virtuous or more truly hers than her own husband. And she will make this manifest from the beginning by her unfailing regard for the common welfare, novice though she may be in such matters. And if the husband learns rst to master himself, he will thereby become his wifes best guide in all the affairs of life, and will teach her to follow his example. For Homer pays no honour either to affection or to fear where modesty is absent. Everywhere he bids affection be coupled with self-control and shame; whilst the fear he commends is such as Helen owns when she thus addresses Priam: Beloved sire of my lord, it is tting that I fear thee and dread thee and revere;19 meaning that her love for him is mingled with fear and modest shame. And again, Ulysses speaks to Nausicaa in this manner: Thou, lady, dost ll me with wonder and with fear.20 For Homer believes that this is the feeling of a husband and wife for one another, and that if they so feel, it will be well with them both. For no one ever loves or admires or fears in this shamefaced way one of baser character; but such are the feelings towards one another of nobler souls and those by nature good; or of the inferior toward those they know to be their betters. Feeling thus toward Penelope, Ulysses remained faithful to her in his wanderings;
19 20

Iliad III 172. Odyssey VI 168.

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whereas Agamemnon did wrong to his wife for the sake of Chryseis, declaring in open assembly that a base captive woman, and of alien race besides, was in no way inferior to Clytemnestra in womanly excellence. This was ill spoken of the mother of his children; nor was his connexion with the other a righteous one. How could it be, when he had but recently compelled her to be his concubine, and before he had any experience of her behaviour to him? Ulysses on the other hand, when the daughter of Atlas besought him to share her bed and board, and promised him immortality, could not bring himself even for the sake of immortality to betray the kindness and love and loyalty of his wife, deeming immortality purchased by unrighteousness to be the worst of all punishments. For it was only to save his comrades that he yielded his person to Circe; and in answer to her he even declared that in his eyes nothing could be more lovely than his native isle, rugged though it were; and prayed that he might die, if only he might look upon his mortal wife and son. So rmly did he keep troth with his wife; and received in return from her the like loyalty. 4 Once again, in the words addressed by Ulysses to Nausicaa the poet makes clear the great honour in which he holds the virtuous companionship of man and wife in marriage. There he prays the gods to grant her a husband and a home; and between herself and her husband, precious unity of mind; provided that such unity be for righteous ends. For, says he, there is no greater blessing on earth than when husband and wife rule their home in harmony of mind and will. Moreover it is evident from this that the unity which the poet commends is no mutual subservience in each others vices, but one that is rightfully allied with wisdom and understanding; for this is the meaning of the words rule the house in harmony of mind. And he goes on to say that wherever such a love is found, it is a cause of sore distress to those who hate them and of delight to those that love them; while the truth of his words is most of all acknowledged by the happy pair. For when wife and husband are agreed about the best things in life, of necessity the friends of each will also be mutually agreed; and the strength which the pair gain will make them formidable to their enemies and helpful to their own. But when discord reigns between them, their friends too will disagree, while the pair themselves will realize most fully their weakness. In all these precepts it is clear that the poet is teaching husband and wife to dissuade one another from whatever is evil and dishonourable, while unselshly furthering to the best of their power one anothers honourable and righteous aims. In the rst place they will strive to perform all duty towards their parents, the husband towards those of his wife no less than towards his own, and she in her turn
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towards his. Their next duties are towards their children, their friends, their estate, and their entire household which they will treat as a common possession; each vying with the other in the effort to contribute most to the common welfare, and to excel in virtue and righteousness; laying aside arrogance, and ruling with justice in a kindly and unassuming spirit. And so at length, when they reach old age, and are freed from the duty of providing for others and from preoccupation with the pleasures and desires of youth, they will be able to give answer also to their children, if question arises which of them has contributed more good things to the common household store; and will be well assured that whatsoever of evil has befallen them is due to fortune, and whatsoever of good, to their own virtue. One who comes victorious through such question wins from heaven, as Pindar says, his chiefest reward; for hope, and a soul lled with fair thoughts are supreme in the manifold mind of mortals; and next, from his children the good fortune of being sustained by them in his old age. And therefore it behoves us to preserve throughout our lives a righteous attitude towards all gods and mortal men, to each individually, and to all in common; and not least towards our own wives and children and parents.

RHETORIC
Aristotle

The Complete Works of Aristotle

Electronic markup by Jamie L. Spriggs InteLex Corporation P.O. Box 859, Charlottesville, Virginia, 22902-0859, USA Available via ftp or on Macintosh or DOS CD-ROM from the publisher.

Complete Works (Aristotle). Jonathan Barnes, Princeton University Press, Princeton, N.J. 1991.

These texts are part of the Past Masters series. This series is an attempt to collect the most important texts in the history of philosophy, both in original language and English translation (if the original language is other English). All Greek has been transliterated and is delimited with the term tag.

May 1996 Jamie L. Spriggs, InteLex Corp. publisher Converted from Folio Flat File to TEI.2-compatible SGML; checked against print text; parsed against local teilite dtd.

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ARISTOTLE THE REVISED OXFORD TRANSLATION Edited by JONATHAN BARNES VOLUME TWO BOLLINGEN SERIES LXXI 2 PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS Copyright 1984 by The Jowett Copyright Trustees Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William St., Princeton, New Jersey In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, Oxford No part of this electronic edition may be printed without written permission from The Jowett Copyright Trustees and Princeton University Press. All Rights Reserved THIS IS PART TWO OF THE SEVENTY-FIRST IN A SERIES OF WORKS SPONSORED BY BOLLINGEN FOUNDATION Printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey Second Printing, 1985 Fourth Printing, 1991 987654

Contents
Preface . . . . . . . Acknowledgements Note to the Reader RHETORIC . . . . BOOK I . . . BOOK II . . BOOK III . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii . v . vi . 2 . 2 . 53 . 106

PREFACE
BENJAMIN JOWETT1 published his translation of Aristotles Politics in 1885, and he nursed the desire to see the whole of Aristotle done into English. In his will he left the perpetual copyright on his writings to Balliol College, desiring that any royalties should be invested and that the income from the investment should be applied in the rst place to the improvement or correction of his own books, and secondly to the making of New Translations or Editions of Greek Authors. In a codicil to the will, appended less than a month before his death, he expressed the hope that the translation of Aristotle may be nished as soon as possible. The Governing Body of Balliol duly acted on Jowetts wish: J. A. Smith, then a Fellow of Balliol and later Waynete Professor of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, and W. D. Ross, a Fellow of Oriel College, were appointed as general editors to supervise the project of translating all of Aristotles writings into English; and the College came to an agreement with the Delegates of the Clarendon Press for the publication of the work. The rst volume of what came to be known as The Oxford Translation of Aristotle appeared in 1908. The work continued under the joint guidance of Smith and Ross, and later under Rosss sole editorship. By 1930, with the publication of the eleventh volume, the whole of the standard corpus aristotelicum had been put into English. In 1954 Ross added a twelfth volume, of selected fragments, and thus completed the task begun almost half a century earlier. The translators whom Smith and Ross collected together included the most eminent English Aristotelians of the age; and the translations reached a remarkable standard of scholarship and delity to the text. But no translation is perfect, and all translations date: in 1976, the Jowett Trustees, in whom the copyright of the Translation lies, determined to commission a revision of the entire text. The Oxford Translation was to remain in substance its original self; but alterations were to be made, where advisable, in the light of recent scholarship and with the requirements of modern readers in mind. The present volumes thus contain a revised Oxford Translation: in all but three treatises, the original versions have been conserved with only mild emendations.
The text of Aristotle: The Complete Works is The Revised Oxford Translation of The Complete Works of Aristotle, edited by Jonathan Barnes, and published by Princeton University Press in 1984. Each reference line contains the approximate Bekker number range of the paragraph if the work in question was included in the Bekker edition.
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PREFACE

iii

(The three exceptions are the Categories and de Interpretatione, where the translations of J. L. Ackrill have been substituted for those of E. M. Edgehill, and the Posterior Analytics, where G. R. G. Mures version has been replaced by that of J. Barnes. The new translations have all been previously published in the Clarendon Aristotle series.) In addition, the new Translation contains the tenth book of the History of Animals, and the third book of the Economics, which were not done for the original Translation; and the present selection from the fragments of Aristotles lost works includes a large number of passages which Ross did not translate. In the original Translation, the amount and scope of annotation differed greatly from one volume to the next: some treatises carried virtually no footnotes, others (notably the biological writings) contained almost as much scholarly commentary as textthe work of Ogle on the Parts of Animals or of dArcy Thompson on the History of Animals, Beares notes to On Memory or Joachims to On Indivisible Lines, were major contributions to Aristotelian scholarship. Economy has demanded that in the revised Translation annotation be kept to a minimum; and all the learned notes of the original version have been omitted. While that omission represents a considerable impoverishment, it has reduced the work to a more manageable bulk, and at the same time it has given the constituent translations a greater uniformity of character. It might be added that the revision is thus closer to Jowetts own intentions than was the original Translation. The revisions have been slight, more abundant in some treatises than in others but amounting, on the average, to some fty alterations for each Bekker page of Greek. Those alterations can be roughly classied under four heads. (i) A quantity of work has been done on the Greek text of Aristotle during the past half century: in many cases new and better texts are now available, and the reviser has from time to time emended the original Translation in the light of this research. (But he cannot claim to have made himself intimate with all the textual studies that recent scholarship has thrown up.) A standard text has been taken for each treatise, and the few departures from it, where they affect the sense, have been indicated in footnotes. On the whole, the reviser has been conservative, sometimes against his inclination. (ii) There are occasional errors or infelicities of translation in the original version: these have been corrected insofar as they have been observed. (iii) The English of the original Translation now seems in some respects archaic in its vocabulary and in its syntax: no attempt has been made to impose a consistently modern style upon the translations, but where archaic English might mislead the modern reader, it has been replaced by more current idiom.

iv

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(iv) The fourth class of alterations accounts for the majority of changes made by the reviser. The original Translation is often paraphrastic: some of the translators used paraphrase freely and deliberately, attempting not so much to English Aristotles Greek as to explain in their own words what he was intending to conveythus translation turns by slow degrees into exegesis. Others construed their task more narrowly, but even in their more modest versions expansive paraphrase from time to time intrudes. The revision does not pretend to eliminate paraphrase altogether (sometimes paraphrase is venial; nor is there any precise boundary between translation and paraphrase); but it does endeavor, especially in the logical and philosophical parts of the corpus, to replace the more blatantly exegetical passages of the original by something a little closer to Aristotles text. The general editors of the original Translation did not require from their translators any uniformity in the rendering of technical and semitechnical terms. Indeed, the translators themselves did not always strive for uniformity within a single treatise or a single book. Such uniformity is surely desirable; but to introduce it would have been a massive task, beyond the scope of this revision. Some effort has, however, been made to remove certain of the more capricious variations of translation (especially in the more philosophical of Aristotles treatises). Nor did the original translators try to mirror in their English style the style of Aristotles Greek. For the most part, Aristotle is terse, compact, abrupt, his arguments condensed, his thought dense. For the most part, the Translation is owing and expansive, set out in well-rounded periods and expressed in a language which is usually literary and sometimes orotund. To that extent the Translation produces a false impression of what it is like to read Aristotle in the original; and indeed it is very likely to give a misleading idea of the nature of Aristotles philosophizing, making it seem more polished and nished than it actually is. In the revisers opinion, Aristotles sinewy Greek is best translated into correspondingly tough English; but to achieve that would demand a new translation, not a revision. No serious attempt has been made to alter the style of the originala style which, it should be said, is in itself elegant enough and pleasing to read. The reviser has been aided by several friends; and he would like to acknowledge in particular the help of Mr. Gavin Lawrence and Mr. Donald Russell. He remains acutely conscious of the numerous imperfections that are left. Yetas Aristotle himself would have put itthe work was laborious, and the reader must forgive the reviser for his errors and give him thanks for any improvements which he may chance to have effected. March 1981 J. B.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE TRANSLATIONS of the Categories and the de Interpretatione are reprinted here by permission of Professor J. L. Ackrill and Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1963); the translation of the Posterior Analytics is reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1975); the translation of the third book of the Economics is reprinted by permission of The Loeb Classical Library (William Heinemann and Harvard University Press); the translation of the fragments of the Protrepticus is based, with the authors generous permission, on the version by Professor Ingemar D uring.

NOTE TO THE READER

THE TRADITIONAL corpus aristotelicum contains several works which were certainly or probably not written by Aristotle. A single asterisk against the title of a work indicates that its authenticity has been seriously doubted; a pair of asterisks indicates that its spuriousness has never been seriously contested. These asterisks appear both in the Table of Contents and on the title pages of the individual works concerned. The title page of each work contains a reference to the edition of the Greek text against which the translation has been checked. References are by editors name, series or publisher (OCT stands for Oxford Classical Texts), and place and date of publication. In those places where the translation deviates from the chosen text and prefers a different reading in the Greek, a footnote marks the fact and indicates which reading is preferred; such places are rare. The numerals printed in the outer margins key the translation to Immanuel Bekkers standard edition of the Greek text of Aristotle of 1831. References consist of a page number, a column letter, and a line number. Thus 1343a marks column one of page 1343 of Bekkers edition; and the following 5, 10, 15, etc. stand against lines 5, 10, 15, etc. of that column of text. Bekker references of this type are found in most editions of Aristotles works, and they are used by all scholars who write about Aristotle.

RHETORIC

RHETORIC
Translated by W. Rhys Roberts2

BOOK I
1 Rhetoric is the counterpart of dialectic. Both alike are concerned with such things as come, more or less, within the general ken of all men and belong to no denite science. Accordingly all men make use, more or less, of both; for to a certain extent all men attempt to discuss statements and to maintain them, to defend themselves and to attack others. Ordinary people do this either at random or through practice and from acquired habit. Both ways being possible, the subject can plainly be handled systematically, for it is possible to inquire the reason why some speakers succeed through practice and others spontaneously; and everyone will at once agree that such an inquiry is the function of an art. Now, the framers of the current treatises on rhetoric have constructed but a small portion of that art. The modes of persuasion are the only true constituents of the art: everything else is merely accessory. These writers, however, say nothing about enthymemes, which are the substance of rhetorical persuasion, but deal mainly with non-essentials. The arousing of prejudice, pity, anger, and similar emotions has nothing to do with the essential facts, but is merely a personal appeal to the man who is judging the case. Consequently if the rules for trials which
2

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TEXT: R. Kassel, Berlin, 1976

RHETORIC: BOOK I

are now laid down in some statesespecially in well-governed stateswere applied everywhere, such people would have nothing to say. All men, no doubt, think that the laws should prescribe such rules, but some, as in the court of Areopagus, give practical effect to their thoughts and forbid talk about non-essentials. This is sound law and custom. It is not right to pervert the judge by moving him to anger or envy or pityone might as well warp a carpenters rule before using it. Again, a litigant has clearly nothing to do but to show that the alleged fact is so or is not so, that it has or has not happened. As to whether a thing is important or unimportant, just or unjust, the judge must surely refuse to take his instructions from the litigants: he must decide for himself all such points as the law-giver has not already dened for him. Now, it is of great moment that well-drawn laws should themselves dene all the points they possibly can and leave as few as may be to the decision of the judges; and this for several reasons. First, to nd one man, or a few men, who are sensible persons and capable of legislating and administering justice is easier than to nd a large number. Next, laws are made after long consideration, whereas decisions in the courts are given at short notice, which makes it hard for those who try the case to satisfy the claims of justice and expediency. The weightiest reason of all is that the decision of the lawgiver is not particular but prospective and general, whereas members of the assembly and the jury nd it their duty to decide on denite cases brought before them. They will often have allowed themselves to be so much inuenced by feelings of friendship or hatred or self-interest that they lose any clear vision of the truth and have their judgement obscured by considerations of personal pleasure or pain. In general, then, the judge should, we say, be allowed to decide as few things as possible. But questions as to whether something has happened or has not happened, will be or will not be, is or is not, must of necessity be left to the judge, since the lawgiver cannot foresee them. If this is so, it is evident that anyone who lays down rules about other matters, such as what must be the contents of the introduction or the narration or any of the other divisions of a speech, is theorizing about non-essentials as if they belonged to the art. The only question with which these writers here deal is how to put the judge into a given frame of mind. About the orators proper modes of persuasion they have nothing to tell us; nothing, that is, about how to gain skill in enthymemes. Hence it comes that, although the same systematic principles apply to political as to forensic oratory, and although the former is a nobler business, and tter for a citizen, than that which concerns the relations of private individuals, these authors say nothing about political oratory, but try, one and all, to write treatises on the

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way to plead in court. The reason for this is that in political oratory there is less inducement to talk about non-essentials. [Political oratory is less given to unscrupulous practices than forensic, but treats of wider issues.]3 In a political debate the man who is forming a judgement is making a decision about his own vital interests. There is no need, therefore, to prove anything except that the facts are what the supporter of a measure maintains they are. In forensic oratory this is not enough; to conciliate the listener is what pays here. It is other peoples affairs that are to be decided, so that the judges, intent on their own satisfaction and listening with partiality, surrender themselves to the disputants instead of judging between them. Hence in many places, as we have said already, irrelevant speaking is forbidden in the law-courts: in the public assembly those who have to form a judgement are themselves well able to guard against that. It is clear, then, that the technical study of rhetoric is concerned with the modes of persuasion. Now persuasion is a sort of demonstration (since we are most fully persuaded when we consider a thing to have been demonstrated); the orators demonstration is an enthymeme, [and this is, in general, the most effective of the modes of persuasion];1 the enthymeme is a sort of deduction (the consideration of deductions of all kinds, without distinction, is the business of dialectic, either of dialectic as a whole or of one of its branches): clearly, then, he who is best able to see how and from what elements a deduction is produced will also be best skilled in the enthymeme, when he has further learnt what its subject-matter is and in what respects it differs from the deductions of logic. For the true and the approximately true are apprehended by the same faculty; it may also be noted that men have a sufcient natural instinct for what is true, and usually do arrive at the truth. Hence the man who makes a good guess at truth is likely to make a good guess at what is reputable. It has now been shown that the ordinary writers on rhetoric treat of nonessentials; it has also been shown why they have inclined more towards the forensic branch of oratory. Rhetoric is useful because things that are true and things that are just have a natural tendency to prevail over their opposites, so that if the decisions of judges are not what they ought to be, the defeat must be due to the speakers themselves, and they must be blamed accordingly. Moreover, before some audiences not even the possession of the exactest knowledge will make it easy for what we say to produce conviction. For argument based on knowledge implies instruction, and there are people whom one cannot instruct. Here, then, we must use, as our modes
3

Excised by Kassel.

RHETORIC: BOOK I

of persuasion and argument, notions possessed by everybody, as we observed in the Topics4 when dealing with the way to handle a popular audience. Further, we must be able to employ persuasion, just as deduction can be employed, on opposite sides of a question, not in order that we may in practice employ it in both ways (for we must not make people believe what is wrong), but in order that we may see clearly what the facts are, and that, if another man argues unfairly, we on our part may be able to confute him. No other of the arts draws opposite conclusions: dialectic and rhetoric alone do this. Both these arts draw opposite conclusions impartially. Nevertheless, the underlying facts do not lend themselves equally well to the contrary views. No; things that are true and things that are better are, by their nature, practically always easier to prove and more persuasive. Again, it is absurd to hold that a man ought to be ashamed of being unable to defend himself with his limbs, but not of being unable to defend himself with rational speech, when the use of rational speech is more distinctive of a human being than the use of his limbs. And if it is objected that one who uses such power of speech unjustly might do great harm, that is a charge which may be made in common against all good things except excellence, and above all against the things that are most useful, as strength, health, wealth, generalship. A man can confer the greatest of benets by a right use of these, and inict the greatest of injuries by using them wrongly. It is clear, then, that rhetoric is not bound up with a single denite class of subjects, but is like dialectic; it is clear, also, that it is useful. It is clear, further, that its function is not simply to succeed in persuading, but rather to discover the persuasive facts in each case. In this it resembles all other arts. For example, it is not the function of medicine simply to make a man quite healthy, but to put him as far as may be on the road to health; it is possible to give excellent treatment even to those who can never enjoy sound health. Furthermore, it is plain that it is the function of one and the same art to discern the real and the apparent means of persuasion, just as it is the function of dialectic to discern the real and the apparent deduction. What makes a man a sophist is not his abilities but his choices. In rhetoric, however, the term rhetorician may describe either the speakers knowledge of the art, or his choices. In dialectic a man is a sophist because he makes a certain kind of choice, a dialectician in respect not of his choices but of his abilities. Let us now try to give some account of the systematic principles of rhetoric itselfof the right method and means of succeeding in the object we set before
4

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See Topics 101a30.

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us. We must make as it were a fresh start, and before going further dene what rhetoric is.
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2 Rhetoric may be dened as the faculty of observing in any given case the available means of persuasion. This is not a function of any other art. Every other art can instruct or persuade about its own particular subject-matter; for instance, medicine about what is healthy and unhealthy, geometry about the properties of magnitudes, arithmetic about numbers, and the same is true of the other arts and sciences. But rhetoric we look upon as the power of observing the means of persuasion on almost any subject presented to us; and that is why we say that, in its technical character, it is not concerned with any special or denite class of subjects. Of the modes of persuasion some are technical, others non-technical. By the latter I mean such things as are not supplied by the speaker but are there at the outsetwitnesses, evidence given under torture, written contracts, and so on. By the former I mean such as we can ourselves construct by means of the principles of rhetoric. The one kind has merely to be used, the other has to be invented. Of the modes of persuasion furnished by the spoken word there are three kinds. The rst kind depends on the personal character of the speaker; the second on putting the audience into a certain frame of mind; the third on the proof, or apparent proof, provided by the words of the speech itself. Persuasion is achieved by the speakers personal character when the speech is so spoken as to make us think him credible. We believe good men more fully and more readily than others: this is true generally whatever the question is, and absolutely true where exact certainty is impossible and opinions are divided. This kind of persuasion, like the others, should be achieved by what the speaker says, not by what people think of his character before he begins to speak. It is not true, as some writers assume in their treatises on rhetoric, that the personal goodness revealed by the speaker contributes nothing to his power of persuasion; on the contrary, his character may almost be called the most effective means of persuasion he possesses. Secondly, persuasion may come through the hearers, when the speech stirs their emotions. Our judgements when we are pleased and friendly are not the same as when we are pained and hostile. It is towards producing these effects, as we maintain, that present-day writers on rhetoric direct the whole of their efforts. This subject will be treated in detail when we come to speak of the emotions. Thirdly, persuasion is effected through the speech itself when we have proved a truth or an apparent truth by means of the persuasive arguments suitable to the case in question. There are, then, these three means of effecting persuasion. The man who is

RHETORIC: BOOK I

to be in command of them must, it is clear, be able to reason logically, to understand human characters and excellences, and to understand the emotionsthat is, to know what they are, their nature, their causes and the way in which they are excited. It thus appears that rhetoric is an offshoot of dialectic and also of ethical studies. Ethical studies may fairly be called political; and for this reason rhetoric masquerades as political science, and the professors of it as political expertssometimes from want of education, sometimes from ostentation, sometimes owing to other human failings. As a matter of fact, it is a branch of dialectic and similar to it, as we said at the outset. Neither rhetoric nor dialectic is the scientic study of any one separate subject: both are faculties for providing arguments. This is perhaps a sufcient account of their scope and of how they are related to each other. [[With regard to the persuasion achieved by proof or apparent proof: just as in dialectic there is induction on the one hand and deduction or apparent deduction on the other, so it is in rhetoric. The example is an induction, the enthymeme is a deduction, and the apparent enthymeme is an apparent deduction; for I call a rhetorical deduction an enthymeme, and a rhetorical induction an example.]]5 Everyone who effects persuasion through proof does in fact use either enthymemes or examples: there is no other way. And since everyone who proves anything at all is bound to use either deductions or inductions (and this is clear to us from the Analytics), it must follow that each of the latter is the same as one of the former. The difference between example and enthymeme is made plain by the passages in the Topics6 where induction and deduction have already been discussed. When we base the proof of a proposition on a number of similar cases, this is induction in dialectic, example in rhetoric; when it is shown that, certain propositions being true, a further and quite distinct proposition must also be true in consequence, whether universally or for the most part this is called deduction in dialectic, enthymeme in rhetoric. It is plain also that each of these types of oratory has its advantages. For what has been said in the Methodics applies equally well here; in some oratorical styles examples prevail, in others enthymemes; and in like manner, some orators are better at the former and some at the latter. Speeches that rely on examples are as persuasive as the other kind, but those which rely on enthymemes excite the louder applause. The reason for this, and their proper uses, we will discuss later. Our next step is to dene the processes themselves more clearly. What is persuasive is persuasive to someone; and something is persuasive ei5 6

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Kassel regards this passage as a later addition to the text by Aristotle himself. Topics I 12.

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ther because it is directly self-evident or because it appears to be proved from other statements that are so. But none of the arts theorizes about individual cases. Medicine, for instance, does not theorize about what will help to cure Socrates or Callias, but only about what will help to cure any or all of a given class of patients: this alone is subject to techniqueindividual cases are so innitely various that no knowledge of them is possible. In the same way the theory of rhetoric is concerned not with what seems reputable to a given individual like Socrates or Hippias, but with what seems so to men of a given type; and this is true of dialectic also. Dialectic does not construct its deductions out of any haphazard materials, such as the fancies of crazy people, but out of materials that call for discussion; and rhetoric draws upon the regular subjects of debate. The duty of rhetoric is to deal with such matters as we deliberate upon without arts or systems to guide us, in the hearing of persons who cannot take in at a glance a complicated argument, or follow a long chain of reasoning. The subjects of our deliberation are such as seem to present us with alternative possibilities: about things that could not have been, and cannot now or in the future be, other than they are, nobody who takes them to be of this nature wastes his time in deliberation. It is possible to form deductions and draw conclusions from the results of previous deductions; or, on the other hand, from premisses which have not been thus proved, and at the same time are not reputable and so call for proof. Reasonings of the former kind will necessarily be hard to follow owing to their length, for we assume an audience of untrained thinkers; those of the latter kind will fail to be persuasive, because they are based on premisses that are not generally admitted or reputable. The enthymeme and the example must, then, deal with what is for the most part capable of being otherwise, the example being an induction, and the enthymeme a deduction. The enthymeme must consist of few propositions, fewer often than those which make up a primary deduction. For if any of these propositions is a familiar fact, there is no need even to mention it; the hearer adds it himself. Thus, to show that Dorieus has been victor in a contest for which the prize is a crown, it is enough to say For he has been victor in the Olympic games, without adding And in the Olympic games the prize is a crown, a fact which everybody knows. There are few facts of the necessary type that can form the basis of rhetorical deductions. Most of the things about which we make decisions, and into which we inquire, present us with alternative possibilities. For it is about our actions that we deliberate and inquire, and all our actions have a contingent character; hardly any of them are determined by necessity. Again, conclusions that state what holds

RHETORIC: BOOK I

for the most part and is possible must be drawn from premisses that do the same, just as necessary conclusions must be drawn from necessary premisses; this too is clear to us from the Analytics.7 It is evident, therefore, that the propositions forming the basis of enthymemes, though some of them may be necessary, will in the main hold for the most part. Now the materials of enthymemes are probabilities and signs, so that each of the former must be the same as one of these. A probability is a thing that happens for the most partnot, however, as some definitions would suggest, anything whatever that so happens, but only if it belongs to the class of what can turn out otherwise, and bears the same relation to that in respect of which it is probable as the universal bears to the particular. Of signs, one kind bears the same relation as the particular bears to the universal, the other the same as the universal bears to the particular. A necessary sign is an evidence, a non-necessary sign has no specic name. By necessary signs I mean those on which deductions may be based; and this shows us why this kind of sign is called an evidence: when people think that what they have said cannot be refuted, they then think that they are bringing forward an evidence, meaning that the matter has now been demonstrated and completed; for the word peras has the same meaning as the word tekmar in the ancient tongue.8 Now the one kind of sign (that which bears to the proposition it supports the relation of particular to universal) may be illustrated thus. Suppose it were said, The fact that Socrates was wise and just is a sign that the wise are just. Here we certainly have a sign; but even though the proposition is true, the argument is refutable, since it does not form a deduction. Suppose, on the other hand, it were said, The fact that he has a fever is a sign that he is ill, or, The fact that she is giving milk is a sign that she has lately borne a child. Here we have the necessary kind of sign, the only kind that constitutes an evidence, since it is the only kind that, if true, is irrefutable. The other kind of sign, that which bears the relation of universal to particular, might be illustrated by saying, The fact that he breathes fast is a sign that he has a fever. This argument also is refutable, even if true, since a man may breathe hard without having a fever. It has, then, been stated above what is the nature of a probability, of a sign, and of an evidence, and what are the differences between them. In the Analytics9 a more explicit description has been given of these points; it is there shown why some of these reasonings can be put into deductions and some cannot.
See Prior Analytics I 8; 12-14; 27. Evidence renders tekmerion which Aristotle connects, via tekmar, with peras and peperasmenos (completed). 9 Prior Analytics II 27.
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10
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The example has already been described as one kind of induction; and the special nature of the subject-matter that distinguishes it from the other kinds has also been stated above. Its relation is not that of part to whole, nor whole to part, nor whole to whole, but of part to part, or like to like. When two statements are of the same order, but one is more familiar than the other, the former is an example. The argument may, for instance, be that Dionysius, in asking as he does for a bodyguard, is scheming to make himself a despot. For in the past Peisistratus kept asking for a bodyguard in order to carry out such a scheme, and did make himself a despot as soon as he got it; and so did Theagenes at Megara; and in the same way all other instances known to the speaker are made into examples, in order to show what is not yet known, that Dionysius has the same purpose in making the same request: all these being instances of the one general principle, that a man who asks for a bodyguard is scheming to make himself a despot. We have now described the sources of those means of persuasion which are popularly supposed to be demonstrative. There is an important distinction between two sorts of enthymemes that has been wholly overlooked by almost everybodyone that also subsists between the deductions treated of in dialectic. One sort of enthymeme really belongs to rhetoric; but the other sort really belongs to other arts and faculties, whether to those we already exercise or to those we have not yet acquired. Hence they are not noticed by the audience . . . and, touching on them more than is appropriate, they get away from them.10 This statement will be clearer if expressed more fully. I mean that the proper subjects of dialectical and rhetorical deductions are the things with which we say the commonplaces are concerned, that is to say those that apply equally to questions of right conduct, natural science, politics, and many other things that have nothing to do with one another. Take, for instance, the commonplace concerned with the more or less. On this it is equally easy to base a deduction or enthymeme about any of what nevertheless are essentially disconnected subjectsright conduct, natural science, or anything else whatever. But there are also those special commonplaces which are based on such propositions as apply only to particular groups or classes of things. Thus there are propositions about natural science on which it is impossible to base any enthymeme or deduction about ethics, and other propositions about ethics on which nothing can be based about natural science. The same principle applies throughout. The general commonplaces have no special subject-matter, and therefore will not increase our understanding of any particular class of things. On the other hand, the better the
10

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RHETORIC: BOOK I

11

selection one makes of propositions suitable for special commonplaces the nearer one comes, unconsciously, to setting up a science that is distinct from dialectic and rhetoric. One may succeed in stating the required principles, but ones science will be no longer dialectic or rhetoric, but the science to which the principles thus discovered belong. Most enthymemes are in fact based upon these particular or special kinds; comparatively few on the common kind. As in the Topics, therefore, so in this work, we must distinguish, in dealing with the enthymemes, the kinds and the commonplaces on which they are to be founded. By kinds I mean the propositions peculiar to each several class of things, by commonplaces those common to all classes alike. We may begin with the kinds. But, rst of all, let us classify rhetoric into its varieties. Having distinguished these we may deal with them one by one, and try to discover the elements of which each is composed, and the propositions each must employ. 3 Rhetoric falls into three divisions, determined by the three classes of listeners to speeches. For of the three elements in speech-makingspeaker, subject, and person addressedit is the last one, the hearer, that determines the speechs end and object. The hearer must be either a judge, with a decision to make about things past or future, or an observer. A member of the assembly decides about future events, a juryman about past events [while those who merely decide on the orators skill are observers].11 From this it follows that there are three divisions of oratorydeliberative, forensic, and epideictic. Deliberative speaking urges us either to do or not to do something: one of these two courses is always taken by private counsellors, as well as by men who address public assemblies. Forensic speaking either attacks or defends somebody: one or other of these two things must always be done by the parties in a case. Epideictic oratory either praises or censures somebody. These three kinds of rhetoric refer to three different kinds of time. The deliberative orator is concerned with the future: it is about things to be done hereafter that he advises, for or against. The party in a case at law is concerned with the past; one man accuses the other, and the other defends himself, with reference to things already done. The epideictic orator is, properly speaking, concerned with the present, since all men praise or blame in view of the state of things existing at the time, though they often nd it useful also to recall the past and to make guesses at the future. Rhetoric has three distinct ends in view, one for each of its three kinds. The deliberative orator aims at establishing the expediency or the harmfulness of a
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proposed course of action; if he urges its acceptance, he does so on the ground that it will do good; if he urges its rejection, he does so on the ground that it will do harm; and all other points, such as whether the proposal is just or unjust, honourable or dishonourable, he brings in as subsidiary and relative to this main consideration. Parties in a law-case aim at establishing the justice or injustice of some action, and they too bring in all other points as subsidiary and relative to this one. Those who praise or attack a man aim at proving him worthy of honour or the reverse, and they too treat all other considerations with reference to this one. That the three kinds of rhetoric do aim respectively at the three ends we have mentioned is shown by the fact that speakers will sometimes not try to establish anything else. Thus, the litigant will sometimes not deny that a thing has happened or that he has done harm. But that he is guilty of injustice he will never admit; otherwise there would be no need of a trial. So too, deliberative orators often make any concession short of admitting that they are recommending their hearers to take an inexpedient course or not to take an expedient one. The question whether it is not unjust for a city to enslave its innocent neighbours often does not trouble them at all. In like manner those who praise or censure a man do not consider whether his acts have been expedient or not, but often make it a ground of actual praise that he has neglected his own interest to do what was honourable. Thus they praise Achilles because he championed his fallen friend Patroclus, though he knew that this meant death, and that otherwise he need not die: yet while to die thus was the nobler thing for him to do, the expedient thing was to live on. It is evident from what has been said that it is these three subjects, more than any others, about which the orator must be able to have propositions at his command. Now the propositions of rhetoric are evidences, probabilities, and signs. Every kind of deduction is composed of propositions, and the enthymeme is a deduction composed of the aforesaid propositions. Since only possible actions, and not impossible ones, can ever have been done in the past or the present, and since things which have not occurred, or will not occur, also cannot have been done or be going to be done, it is necessary for the deliberative, the forensic, and the epideictic speaker alike to be able to have at their command propositions about the possible and the impossible, and about whether a thing has or has not occurred, will or will not occur. Further, all men, in giving praise or blame, in urging us to accept or reject proposals for action, in accusing or defending, attempt not only to prove the points mentioned but also to show that the good or the harm, the honour or disgrace, the justice or injustice, is great or small, either absolutely or relatively; and therefore it is plain that we must also have at our command propositions about greatness or smallness and the greater

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or the lesserpropositions both universal and particular. Thus, we must be able to say which is the greater or lesser good, the greater or lesser act of justice or injustice; and so on. Such, then, are the subjects regarding which we are inevitably bound to master the propositions relevant to them. We must now discuss each particular class of these subjects in turn, namely those dealt with in deliberative, in epideictic, and lastly in legal, oratory. 4 First, then, we must ascertain what are the kinds of things, good or bad, about which the deliberative orator offers counsel. For he does not deal with all things, but only with such as may or may not take place. Concerning things which exist or will exist inevitably, or which cannot possibly exist or take place, no counsel can be given. Nor, again, can counsel be given about the whole class of things which may or may not take place; for this class includes some good things that occur naturally, and some that occur by accident; and about these it is useless to offer counsel. Clearly counsel can only be given on matters about which people can deliberate; matters, namely, that ultimately depend on ourselves, and which we have it in our power to set going. For we turn a thing over in our mind until we have reached the point of seeing whether we can do it or not. Now to enumerate and classify accurately the usual subjects of public business, and further to frame, as far as possible, true denitions of them, is a task which we must not attempt on the present occasion. For it does not belong to the art of rhetoric, but to a more instructive art and a more real branch of knowledge; and as it is, rhetoric has been given a far wider subject-matter than strictly belongs to it. The truth is, as indeed we have said already, that rhetoric is a combination of the sciences of logic and of ethics; and it is partly like dialectic, partly like sophistical reasoning. But the more we try to make either dialectic or rhetoric not, what they really are, practical faculties, but sciences, the more we shall inadvertently be destroying their true nature; for we shall be re-fashioning them and shall be passing into the region of sciences dealing with denite subjects rather than simply with speeches. Even here, however, we will mention those points which it is of practical importance to distinguish, their fuller treatment falling to political science. The main matters on which all men deliberate and on which deliberative speakers make speeches are ve in number: ways and means, war and peace, national defence, imports and exports, and legislation. As to Ways and Means, then, the intending speaker will need to know the number and extent of the countrys sources of revenue, so that, if any is being

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overlooked, it may be added, and, if any is defective, it may be increased. Further, he should know all the expenditure of the country, in order that, if any part of it is superuous, it may be abolished, or, if any is too large, it may be reduced. For men become richer not only by increasing their existing wealth but also by reducing their expenditure. A comprehensive view of these questions cannot be gained solely from experience in home affairs; in order to advise on such matters a man must study the methods worked out in other lands. As to Peace and War, he must know the extent of the military strength of his country, both actual and potential, and also the nature of that actual and potential strength; and further, what wars his country has waged, and how it has waged them. He must know these facts not only about his own country, but also about neighbouring countries; and also about countries with which war is likely, in order that peace may be maintained with those stronger than his own, and that his own may have power to make war or not against those that are weaker. He should know, too, whether the military power of another country is like or unlike that of his own; for this is a matter that may affect their relative strength. With that end in view he must, besides, have studied the wars of other countries as well as those of his own, and the way they ended; similar causes are likely to have similar results. With regard to National Defence he ought to know all about the methods of defence in actual use, and also the strength and character of the defensive force and the positions of the fortsthis last means that he must be well acquainted with the lie of the countryin order that a garrison may be increased if it is too small or removed if it is not wanted, and that the strategic points may be guarded with special care. With regard to the Food Supply he must know what will meet the needs of his country; what kinds of food are produced at home and what imported; and what articles must be exported or imported. This last he must know in order that agreements and commercial treaties may be made with the countries concerned. There are, indeed, two sorts of state to which he must see that his countrymen give no cause for offence, states stronger than his own, and states with which it is advantageous to trade. But while he must, for securitys sake, be able to take all this into account, he must before all things understand the subject of legislation; for it is on a countrys laws that its whole welfare depends. He must, therefore, know how many different forms of constitution there are; under what conditions each of these will prosper and by what circumstances, both proper and opposite, each of them tends to be destroyed. When I speak of destruction through proper circumstances I refer to the fact that all constitutions, except the best one of all, are destroyed both by

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not being pushed far enough and by being pushed too far. Thus, democracy loses its vigour, and nally passes into oligarchy, not only when it is not pushed far enough, but also when it is pushed a great deal too far; just as the aquiline and the snub nose not only turn into normal noses by not being aquiline or snub enough, but also by being too violently aquiline or snub arrive at a condition in which they no longer look like noses at all. It is useful, in framing laws, not only to study the past history of ones own country, in order to understand which constitution is desirable for it now, but also to have a knowledge of the constitutions of other nations, and so to learn for what kinds of nation the various kinds of constitution are suited. From this we can see that books of travel are useful aids to legislation, since from these we may learn the laws and customs of different races. The deliberative speaker will also nd the researches of historians useful. But all this is the business of political science and not of rhetoric. These, then, are the most important kinds of information which the deliberative speaker must possess. Let us now go back and state the premisses from which he will have to argue in favour of adopting or rejecting measures regarding these and other matters. 5 It may be said that every individual man and all men in common aim at a certain end which determines what they choose and what they avoid. This end, to sum it up briey, is happiness and its constituents. Let us, then, by way of illustration only, ascertain what is in general the nature of happiness, and what are the elements of its constituent parts. For all advice to do things or not to do them is concerned with happiness and with the things that make for or against it; whatever creates or increases happiness or some part of happiness, we ought to do; whatever destroys or hampers happiness, or gives rise to its opposite, we ought not to do. We may dene happiness as prosperity combined with excellence; or as independence of life; or as the secure enjoyment of the maximum of pleasure; or as a good condition of property and body, together with the power of guarding ones property and body and making use of them. That happiness is one or more of these things, pretty well everybody agrees. From this denition of happiness it follows that its constituent parts are: good birth, plenty of friends, good friends, wealth, good children, plenty of children, a happy old age, also such bodily excellences as health, beauty, strength, large stature, athletic powers, together with fame, honour, good luck, and excellence. A man cannot fail to be completely independent if he possesses these internal and

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these external goods; for besides these there are no others to have. (Goods of the soul and of the body are internal. Good birth, friends, money, and honour are external.) Further, we think that he should possess resources and luck, in order to make his life really secure. Let us now, then, try to ascertain what each of these things is. Now good birth in a race or a state means that its members are indigenous or ancient; that its earliest leaders were distinguished men, and that from them have sprung many who were distinguished for qualities that we admire. The good birth of an individual may come either from the male or the female side; it requires legitimacy on both sides, and implies that, as in the case of the state, the founders of the line have been notable for excellence or wealth or something else which is highly prized, and that many distinguished persons belong to the family, men and women, young and old. Possession of good children and of many children is clear enough. Applied to a community, they mean that its young men are numerous and of good quality: good in regard to bodily excellences, such as stature, beauty, strength, athletic powers; and also in regard to the excellences of the soul, which in a young man are temperance and courage. Applied to an individual, they mean that his own children are numerous and have the good qualities we have described. Both male and female are here included; the excellences of the latter are, in body, beauty and stature; in soul, self-command and an industry that is not sordid. Communities as well as individuals should lack none of these perfections, in their women as well as in their men. Where, as among the Lacedaemonians, the state of women is bad, almost half of them are not happy. The constituents of wealth are: plenty of coined money and territory; the ownership of numerous, large, and beautiful estates; also the ownership of numerous and beautiful implements, live stock, and slaves. All these kinds of property are our own, are secure, gentlemanly, and useful. The useful kinds are those that are productive, the gentlemanly kinds are those that provide enjoyment. By productive I mean those from which we get our income; by enjoyable, those from which we get nothing worth mentioning except the use of them. The criterion of security is the ownership of property in such places and under such conditions that the use of it is in our power; and it is our own if it is in our own power to dispose of it or not. By disposing of it I mean giving it away or selling it. Wealth as a whole consists in using things rather than in owning them; it is really the activitythat is, the useof property that constitutes wealth. Fame means being respected by everybody, or having some quality that is desired by all men, or by most, or by the good, or by the wise.

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Honour is the token of a mans being famous for doing good. It is chiey and most properly paid to those who have already done good; but also to the man who can do good in future. Doing good refers either to the preservation of life and the means of life, or to wealth, or to some other of the good things which it is hard to get either always or at that particular place or timefor many gain honour for things which seem small, but the place and the occasion account for it. The constituents of honour are: sacrices; commemoration, in verse or prose; privileges; grants of land; front seats at civic celebrations; state burial; statues; public maintenance; among foreigners, obeisances and giving place; and such presents as are among various bodies of men regarded as marks of honour. For a present is not only the bestowal of a piece of property, but also a token of honour; which explains why honour-loving as well as money-loving persons desire it. The present brings to both what they want; it is a piece of property, which is what the lovers of money desire; and it brings honour, which is what the lovers of honour desire. The excellence of the body is health; that is, a condition which allows us, while keeping free from disease, to have the use of our bodies; for many people are healthy in the way we are told Herodicus was; and these no one can congratulate on their health, for they have to abstain from everything or nearly everything that men do. Beauty varies with the time of life. In a young man beauty is the possession of a body t to endure the exertion of running and of contests of strength; which means that he is pleasant to look at; and therefore all-round athletes are the most beautiful, being naturally adapted both for contests of strength and for speed also. For a man in his prime, beauty is tness for the exertion of warfare, together with a pleasant but at the same time formidable appearance. For an old man, it is to be strong enough for such exertion as is necessary, and to be free from pain through escaping the ravages of old age. Strength is the power of moving something else at will; to do this, you must either pull, push, lift, pin, or grip it; thus you must be strong in all of those ways or at least in some. Excellence in size is to surpass ordinary people in height, thickness, and breadth by just as much as will not make ones movements slower in consequence. Athletic excellence of the body consists in size and strength; for the swift man is stronghe who can ing forward his legs in a certain way, and move them fast and far, is good at running; he who can grip and hold down is good at wrestling; he who can drive an adversary from his ground with the right blow is a good boxer; he who can do both the last is a good pancratiast, while he who can do all is an all-round athlete. Happiness in old age is the coming of old age slowly and painlessly; for a man has not this happiness if he grows old either quickly, or tardily but painfully. It

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arises both from the excellences of the body and from good luck. If a man is not free from disease, or if he is not strong, he will not be free from suffering or pain; nor can he continue to live a long life unless he has good luck. There is, indeed, a capacity for long life that is quite independent of health or strength; for many people live long who lack the excellences of the body; but for our present purpose there is no use in going into the details of this. The possession of many friends and the possession of good friends need no explanation; for we dene a friend as one who will always try, for your sake, to do what he takes to be good for you. The man towards whom many feel thus has many friends; if these are worthy men, he has good friends. Good luck is the acquisition or possession of all or most, or the most important, of those good things which are due to luck. Some of the things that are due to luck may also be due to articial contrivance; but many are independent of art, as for example those which are due to naturethough, to be sure, things due to luck may actually be contrary to nature. Thus health may be due to articial contrivance, but beauty and stature are due to nature. All such good things as excite envy are, as a class, the outcome of good luck. Luck is also the cause of good things that happen contrary to reasonable expectation: as when, for instance, all your brothers are ugly, but you are handsome yourself; or when you nd a treasure that everybody else has overlooked; or when a missile hits the next man and misses you; or when you are the only man not to go to a place you have gone to regularly, while the others go there for the rst time and are killed. All such things are reckoned pieces of good luck. As to excellence, it is most closely connected with the subject of eulogy, and therefore we will wait to dene it until we come to discuss that subject. 6 It is now plain what our aims, future or actual, should be in urging, and what in deprecating, a proposal; the latter being the opposite of the former. Now the deliberative orators aim is utility: deliberation seeks to determine not ends but the means to ends, i.e. what it is most useful to do. Further, utility is a good thing. We ought therefore to assure ourselves of the main facts about goodness and utility in general. We may dene a good thing as that which ought to be chosen for its own sake; or as that for the sake of which we choose something else; or as that which is sought after by all things, or by all things that have sensation or reason, or which will be sought after by any things that acquire reason; or as that which must be prescribed for a given individual by reason generally, or is prescribed for him by his individual reason, this being his individual good; or as that whose presence brings

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anything into a satisfactory and self-sufcing condition; or as self-sufciency; or as what produces, maintains, or entails characteristics of this kind, while preventing and destroying their opposites (one thing may entail another in either of two wayssimultaneously, or subsequently. Thus learning entails knowledge subsequently, health entails life simultaneously. Things are productive of other things in three senses: rst as being healthy produces health; secondly, as food produces health; and thirdly, as exercise doesi.e. it does so usually. All this being settled, we now see that both the acquisition of good things and the removal of bad things must be good; the latter entails freedom from the evil things simultaneously, while the former entails possession of the good things subsequently); or the acquisition of a greater in place of a lesser good, or of a lesser in place of a greater evil; for in proportion as the greater exceeds the lesser there is acquisition of good or removal of evil.12 The excellences, too, must be something good; for it is by possessing these that we are in a good condition, and they tend to produce good works and good actions. They must be severally named and described elsewhere. Pleasure, again, must be a good thing, since it is the nature of all animals to aim at it. Consequently both pleasant and beautiful things must be good things, since the former are productive of pleasure, while of the beautiful things some are pleasant and some desirable in and for themselves. The following is a more detailed list of things that must be good. Happiness, as being desirable in itself and sufcient by itself, and as being that for whose sake we choose all other things. Also justice, courage, temperance, magnanimity, magnicence, and all such qualities, as being excellences of the soul. Further, health, beauty, and the like, as being bodily excellences and productive of many other good things: for instance, health is productive both of pleasure and of life, and therefore is thought the greatest of goods, since these two things which it causes, pleasure and life, are two of the things most highly prized by ordinary people. Wealth, again; for it is the excellence of possession, and also productive of many other good things. Friends and friendship; for a friend is desirable in himself and also productive of many other good things. So, too, honour and reputation, as being pleasant, and productive of many other good things, and for the most part accompanied by the presence of the good things that cause them to be bestowed. The faculty of speech and action; since all such qualities are productive of what is good. Furthergood parts, strong memory, receptiveness, quickness of intuition, and the like, for all such faculties are productive of what is good. Similarly, all the sciences and arts. And life; since, even if no other good were the result of life, it
12

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Reading touto for touton.

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is desirable in itself. And justice, as the cause of good to the community. The above are pretty well all the things admittedly good. In dealing with things whose goodness is disputed, we may argue in the following ways:That is good of which the contrary is bad. That is good the contrary of which is to the advantage of our enemies; for example, if it is to the particular advantage of our enemies that we should be cowards, clearly courage is of particular value to our countrymen. And generally, the contrary of that which our enemies desire, or of that at which they rejoice, is evidently valuable. Hence the passage beginning: Surely would Priam exult.13 This principle holds good for the most part, not always, since it may well be that our interest is sometimes the same as that of our enemies. Hence it is said that evils draw men together; that is, when the same thing is hurtful to them both. Further : that which is not in excess is good, and that which is greater than it should be is bad. That also is good on which much labour or money has been spent; the mere fact of this makes it seem good, and such a good is assumed to be an endan end reached through a long chain of means; and any end is a good. Hence the lines beginning: And for Priam a boast,14 and Oh, it were shame to have tarried so long15 and there is also the proverb about breaking the pitcher at the door. That which most people seek after, and which is obviously an object of contention, is also a good; for, as has been shown, that is good which is sought after by everybody, and most people seems pretty well to amount to everybody. That which is praised is good, since no one praises what is not good. So, again, that which is praised by our enemies; for it is as though everyone were thereby agreeing. And that which is praised by those who have sufferedthey would agree because it is evidently good. Similarly, those must be worthless whom their friends censure and their enemies do not. (For this reason the Corinthians conceived themselves to be insulted by Simonides when he wrote:
13 14

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Homer, Iliad I 255. Iliad II 160. 15 Iliad II 298.

RHETORIC: BOOK I Against the Corinthians hath Ilium no complaint.)

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Again, that is good which has been distinguished by the favour of a discerning or virtuous man or woman, as Odysseus was distinguished by Athena, Helen by Theseus, Paris by the goddesses, and Achilles by Homer. And, generally speaking, all things are good which men choose to do; this will include the things already mentioned, and also whatever may be bad for their enemies or good for their friends, and at the same time practicable. Things are practicable in two senses: it is possible to do them, it is easy to do them. Things are done easily when they are done either without pain or quickly: the difculty of an act lies either in its painfulness or in the long time it takes. Again, a thing is good if it is as men wish; and they wish to have either no evil at all or at least a balance of good over evil. This last will happen where the penalty is either imperceptible or slight. Good, too, are things that are a mans very own, possessed by no one else, exceptional; for this increases the credit of having them. So are things which bet the possessors, such as whatever is appropriate to their birth or capacity. And whatever they feel they ought to have but lacksuch things may indeed be triing, but none the less men deliberately make them the goal of their action. And things easily effected; for these are practicable (in the sense of being easy); such things are those in which everyone, or most people, or ones equals, or ones inferiors have succeeded. Good also are the things by which we shall gratify our friends or annoy our enemies; and the things chosen by those whom we admire; and the things for which we are tted by nature or experience, since we think we shall succeed more easily in these; and those in which no worthless man can succeed, for such things bring greater praise; and those which we do in fact desire, for what we desire is taken to be not only pleasant but also better. Further, a man of a given disposition makes chiey for the corresponding things: lovers of victory make for victory, lovers of honour for honour, money-loving men for money, and so with the rest. These, then, are the sources from which we must derive our means of persuasion about good and utility. 7 Since, however, it often happens that people agree that two things are both useful but do not agree about which is the more so, the next step will be to treat of relative goodness and relative utility. A thing which surpasses another may be regarded as being that other thing plus something more, and that other thing which is surpassed as being what is contained in the rst thing. Now things are greater or more always in comparison with something smaller or less, while they are great and small, much and little, in
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comparison with normal magnitude. The great is that which surpasses the normal, the small is that which is surpassed by the normal; and so with many and few. Now we call good what is desirable for its own sake and not for the sake of something else; that at which all things aim; what they would choose if they could acquire understanding and practical wisdom; and that which tends to produce or preserve such goods, or is always accompanied by them; [Moreover, that for the sake of which things are done is the end (an end being that for the sake of which all else is done)]16 and for each individual that thing is a good which fulls these conditions in regard to himself. It follows, then, that a greater number of goods is a greater good than one or than a smaller number, if that one or that smaller number is included in the count; for then the larger number surpasses the smaller, and the smaller quantity is surpassed as being contained in the larger. Again, if the largest member of one class surpasses the largest member of another, then the one class surpasses the other; and if one class surpasses another, then the largest member of the one surpasses the largest member of the other. Thus, if the tallest man is taller than the tallest woman, then men in general are taller than women. Conversely, if men in general are taller than women, then the tallest man is taller than the tallest woman. For the superiority of class over class is proportionate to the superiority possessed by their largest specimens. Again, where one good is always accompanied by another, but does not always accompany it, it is greater than the other, for the use of the second thing is implied in the use of the rst. A thing may be accompanied by another either simultaneously, or subsequently, or potentially. Life accompanies health simultaneously (but not health life), knowledge accompanies the act of learning subsequently, cheating accompanies sacrilege potentially, since a man who has committed sacrilege is always capable of cheating. Again, when two things each surpass a third, that which does so by the greater amount is the greater of the two; for it must surpass the less great as well. A thing productive of a greater good is itself a greater good than that other. For that is what being productive of something greater is. Likewise, that which is produced by a greater good is itself a greater good; thus, if what is wholesome is more desirable and a greater good than what gives pleasure, health too must be a greater good than pleasure. Again, a thing which is desirable in itself is a greater good than a thing which is not desirable in itself, as for example bodily strength than what is wholesome, since the latter is not pursued for its own sake, whereas the former is; and this was our denition of the good. Again, if one of two things is an end, and the other is not, the former is the greater good,
16

Excised by Kassel.

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as being chosen for its own sake and not for the sake of something else; as, for example, exercise is a greater good than physical well-being. And of two things that which stands less in need of other things is the greater good, since it is more self-sufcing. (That which stands less in need of others is that which needs either fewer or easier things.) And when one thing does not exist or cannot come into existence without a second, while the second can exist without the rst, the second is the better. For that which does not need something else is more self-sufcing than that which does, and presents itself as a greater good for that reason. Again, that which is an origin of other things is a greater good than that which is not, and that which is a cause is a greater good than that which is not; the reason being the same in each case, namely that without a cause and an origin nothing can exist or come into existence. Again, where there are two origins, what arises from the greater is greater; and where there are two causes, what arises from the greater cause is greater. And conversely, that origin or cause is itself the greater which has the greater consequences. Now it is plain, from all that has been said, that one thing may be shown to be greater than another from two opposite points of view: it may appear the greater because it is an origin and the other thing is not, and also because it is not an origin and the other thing ison the ground that the end is greater and is not an origin. So Leodamas, when accusing Callistratus, said that the man who prompted the deed was more guilty than the doer, since it would not have been done if he had not planned it. On the other hand, when accusing Chabrias he said that the doer was worse than the prompter, since there would have been no deed without some one to do it; men, said he, plot a thing only in order to carry it out. Further, what is rare is a greater good than what is plentiful. Thus, gold is a better thing than iron, though less useful: it is harder to get, and therefore more worth getting. In another way, the plentiful is a better thing than the rare, because we can make more use of it. For what is often useful surpasses what is seldom useful, whence the saying The best of things is water.17 More generally: the hard thing is better than the easy, because it is rarer; and in another way the easy thing is better than the hard, for it is as we wish it to be. That is the greater good whose contrary is greater, and whose loss is greater. Excellence is greater than non-excellence, badness than non-badness; for excellence, goodness and badness are ends, which the mere absence of them cannot
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be. Further, if the functions of things are nobler or baser, the things themselves are greater; and if the badnesses and excellences are greater, their functions also are greater; for the nature of results corresponds with that of their causes and origins and the nature of causes and origins corresponds with that of their results. Moreover, those things are greater goods, superiority in which is more desirable or more honourable. [[Thus, keenness of sight is more desirable than keenness of smell, sight generally being more desirable than smell generally; and similarly, unusually great love of friends being more honourable than unusually great love of money, love of friends is more honourable than love of money.]]18 Conversely, if one of two things is better or nobler than the other, an unusual degree of that thing is better or nobler than an unusual degree of the other. Again, one thing is more honourable or better than another if it is more honourable or better to desire it; for greater desires have greater objects; and for the same reason, if one thing is more honourable or better than another, it is more honourable and better to desire it. Again, if one science is more honourable and valuable than another, its objects are also more honourable and valuable; as is the science, so is the reality that is its object, each science being authoritative in its own sphere. So, also, the more valuable and honourable the object of a science, the more valuable and honourable the science itself is in consequence. Again, that which would be judged, or which has been judged, a greater good, by all or most people of understanding, or by the majority of men, or by the ablest, must be so; either without qualication, or in so far as they use their understanding to form their judgement. This is indeed a general principle, applicable to all other judgements also; not only the goodness of things, but their essence, magnitude, and general nature are in fact just what knowledge and understanding will declare them to be. Here the principle is applied to judgements of goodness, since one denition of good was what beings that acquire understanding will choose in any given case; from which it clearly follows that that thing is better which understanding declares to be so. That, again, is a better thing which attaches to better men, either absolutely, or in virtue of their being better; as courage is better than strength. And that is a greater good which would be chosen by a better man, either absolutely, or in virtue of his being better: for instance, to suffer wrong rather than to do wrong, for that would be the choice of the juster man. Again, the pleasanter of two things is the better, since all things pursue pleasure, and things desire pleasurable sensation for its own sake; and these are two of the characteristics by which the good and the end have been dened. One pleasure is greater than another if it is more unmixed
18

Kassel marks this as a later addition by Aristotle himself.

RHETORIC: BOOK I

25

with pain, or more lasting. Again, the nobler thing is better than the less noble, since the noble is either what is pleasant or what is desirable in itself. And those things also are greater goods which men desire more earnestly to bring about for themselves or for their friends, whereas those things which they least desire to bring about are greater evils. And those things which are more lasting are better than those which are more eeting, and the more secure than the less; the enjoyment of the lasting has the advantage of being longer, and that of the secure has the advantage of suiting our wishes, being there for us whenever we like. Further, in the case of co-ordinates and inexions of the same stem, what is true of one is true of all. Thus if bravely is more noble and desirable than temperately, then bravery is more desirable than temperance and being brave than being temperate. That, again, which is chosen by all is a greater good than that which is not, and that chosen by the majority than that chosen by the minority. For that which all desire is good, as we have said; and so, the more a thing is desired, the better it is. Further, that is the better thing which is considered so by competitors or enemies, or, again, by judges or those whom they judge. In the rst two cases the decision is virtually that of everyone, in the last two that of authorities and experts. And sometimes what all share is the better thing, since it is a dishonour not to share in it; at other times, what none or few share is better, since it is rarer. The more praiseworthy things are, the nobler and therefore the better they are. So with the things that earn greater honours than othershonour is, as it were, a measure of value; and the things whose absence involves greater penalties; and the things that are greater than others admitted or believed to be great. Moreover, things look greater merely by being divided into their parts, since they then seem to surpass a greater number of things than before. Hence Homer says that Meleager was roused to battle by the thought of All horrors that light on a folk whose city is taen of their foes, When they slaughter the men, when the town is wasted with ravening ame, When strangers are haling young children to thraldom.19 The same effect is produced by piling up facts in a climax after the manner of Epicharmus. The reason is partly the same as in the case of division (for combination too makes the impression of great superiority), and partly that the original thing appears to be the cause and origin of great results. And since a thing is
19

See Iliad IX 592-4.

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Aristotle

greater when it is harder or rarer than other things, its superiority may be due to seasons, ages, places, times, or ones natural powers. When a man accomplishes something beyond his natural power, or beyond his years, or beyond the measure of people like him, or in a special way, or at a special place or time, his deed will have a high degree of nobleness, goodness, and justice, or of their opposites. Hence the epigram on the victor at the Olympic games: In time past, bearing a yoke on my shoulders, of wood unshaven, I carried my loads of sh from Argos to Tegea town. So Iphicrates used to extol himself by describing the low estate from which he had risen. Again, what is natural is better than what is acquired, since it is harder to come by. Hence the words of Homer: I have learnt from none but myself.20 And the greatest of a great thing is particularly good; as when Pericles in his funeral oration said that the countrys loss of its young men in battle was as if the spring were taken out of the year. So with those things which are of service when the need is greater; for example, in old age and times of sickness. And of two things that which leads more directly to the end in view is the better. So too is that which is good for an individual than that which is good generally. Again, what can be got is better than what cannot, for it is good in a given case and the other thing is not. And what is an end of life is better than what is not, since ends are better than things close to the end. What aims at reality is better than what aims at appearance. We may dene what aims at appearance as what a man will not choose if nobody is to know of his having it. This would seem to show that to receive benets is more desirable than to confer them, since a man will choose the former even if nobody is to know of it, but it does not seem that he will choose the latter if nobody knows of it. What a man wants to be is better than what a man wants to seem, for in aiming at that he is aiming more at reality. Hence men say that justice is of small value, since it is more desirable to seem just than to be just, whereas with health it is not so. That is better than other things which is useful for a number of purposes; for example, that which promotes life, good life, pleasure, and noble conduct. For this reason wealth and health are thought to be of the highest value, as possessing all these advantages. Again, that is better than other things which is accompanied both with less pain and with actual pleasure; for here
20

Odyssey XXII 347.

RHETORIC: BOOK I

27

there is more than one advantage; and so here we have the good of feeling pleasure and also the good of not feeling pain. And of two good things that is the better whose addition to a third thing makes a better whole. Again, those things which we are seen to possess are better than those which we are not seen to possess, since the former have the air of reality. Hence being rich may be regarded as a greater good than seeming to be. That which is dearly prized is better than what is notthe sort of thing that some people have only one of, though others have more like it. Accordingly, blinding a one-eyed man inicts worse injury than halfblinding a man with two eyes; for the one-eyed man has been robbed of what he dearly prized. The grounds on which we must base our persuasions, when we are speaking for or against a proposal, have now been set forth more or less completely. 8 The most important and effective qualication for success in persuading audiences and speaking well on public affairs is to understand all the forms of government and to discriminate their respective customs, institutions, and interests. For all men are persuaded by considerations of their interest, and their interest lies in the maintenance of the established order. Further, it rests with the supreme authority to give authoritative decisions, and this varies with each form of government; there are as many different supreme authorities as there are different forms of government. The forms of government are fourdemocracy, oligarchy, aristocracy, monarchy. The supreme right to judge and decide always rests, therefore, with either a part or the whole of one or other of these governing powers. A democracy is a form of government under which the citizens distribute the ofces of state among themselves by lot, whereas under oligarchy there is a property qualication, under aristocracy one of education. By education I mean that education which is laid down by the law; for it is those who have been loyal to the national institutions that hold ofce under an aristocracy. These are bound to be looked upon as the best men, and it is from this fact that this form of government has derived its name.21 Monarchy, as the word implies, is the constitution in which one man has authority over all. There are two forms of monarchy: kingship, which is limited by prescribed conditions, and tyranny, which is not limited by anything. We must also notice the ends which the various forms of government pursue, since people choose such actions as will lead to the realization of their ends. The end of democracy is freedom; of oligarchy, wealth; of aristocracy, the maintenance
21

1365b20-1365b21

1365b22-1365b31

1365b32-1366a2

1366a3-1366a17

aristokratia from aristos (best).

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Aristotle

1366a18-1366a22

of education and national institutions; of tyranny, the protection of the tyrant. It is clear, then, that we must distinguish those particular customs, institutions, and interests which tend to realize the end of each constitution, since men choose their means with reference to their ends. But rhetorical persuasion is effected not only by demonstrative but by ethical argument; it helps a speaker to convince us, if we believe that he has certain qualities himself, namely, goodness, or goodwill towards us, or both together. Similarly, we should know the character of each form of government, for the special character of each is bound to provide us with our most effective means of persuasion in dealing with it. We shall learn the qualities of governments in the same way as we learn the qualities of individuals, since they are revealed in their acts of choice; and these are determined by the end that inspires them. We have now considered the objects, present or future, at which we are to aim when urging any proposal, and the grounds on which we are to base our persuasions in favour of its utility, and the means and methods by which we shall gain a good knowledge of the characters and institutions peculiar to the various forms of governmentonly, however, to the extent demanded by the present occasion; a detailed account of the subject has been given in the Politics. 9 We have now to consider excellence and vice, the noble and the base, since these are the objects of praise and blame. In doing so, we shall at the same time be nding out how to make our hearers take the required view of our own charactersour second method of persuasion. The ways in which to make them trust the goodness of other people are also the ways in which to make them trust our own. Praise, again, may be serious or frivolous; nor is it always of a human or divine being but often of inanimate things, or of the humblest of the lower animals. Here too we must know on what grounds to argue, and must, therefore, now discuss the subject, though by way of illustration only. The noble is that which is both desirable for its own sake and also worthy of praise; or that which is both good and also pleasant because good. If this is the noble, it follows that excellence must be noble, since it is both a good thing and also praiseworthy. Excellence is, according to the usual view, a faculty of providing and preserving good things; or a faculty of conferring many great benets, and benets of all kinds on all occasions. The parts of excellence are justice, courage, temperance, magnicence, magnanimity, liberality, gentleness, prudence, wisdom. If excellence is a faculty of benecence, the highest kinds of it must be those which are most useful to others, and for this reason men honour most the just and the courageous, since courage is useful to others in war,

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1366a33-1366b22

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justice both in war and in peace. Next comes liberality; liberal people let their money go instead of ghting for it, whereas other people care more for money than for anything else. Justice is the excellence through which everybody enjoys his own possessions in accordance with the law; its opposite is injustice, through which men enjoy the possessions of others in deance of the law. Courage is the excellence that disposes men to do noble deeds in situations of danger, in accordance with the law and in obedience to its commands; cowardice is the opposite. Temperance is the excellence that disposes us to obey the law where physical pleasures are concerned; intemperance is the opposite. Liberality disposes us to spend money for others good; illiberality is the opposite. Magnanimity is the excellence that disposes us to do good to others on a large scale; [its opposite is meanness of spirit].22 Magnicence is the excellence productive of greatness in matters involving the spending of money. The opposites of these two are smallness of spirit and meanness respectively. Prudence is that excellence of the understanding which enables men to come to wise decisions about the relation to happiness of the goods and evils that have been previously mentioned. The above is a sufcient account, for our present purpose, of excellence and vice in general, and of their various parts. As to further aspects of the subject, it is not difcult to discern the facts; it is evident that things productive of excellence are noble, as tending towards excellence; and also the effects of excellence, that is, the signs of its presence and the acts to which it leads. And since the signs of excellence and such acts as it is the mark of a good man to do or have done to him, are noble, it follows that all deeds or signs of courage, and everything done courageously, must be noble things; and so with what is just and actions done justly. (Not, however, things done to us; for in this alone of the excellences, justly does not always imply noblywhen a man is punished, it is more shameful that this should be justly than unjustly done to him.) The same is true of the other excellences. Again, those actions are noble for which the reward is simply honour, or honour more than money. So are those in which a man aims at something desirable for someone elses sake; actions good absolutely, such as those a man does for his country without thinking of himself; actions good in their own nature; actions that are not good simply for the individual, since individual interests are selsh. Noble also are those actions whose advantage may be enjoyed after death, as opposed to those whose advantage is enjoyed during ones lifetime; for the latter are more likely to be for ones own sake only. Also, all actions done for the sake of others, since these less than other actions are done for ones own sake;
22

1366b23-1367b6

Excised by Kassel.

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Aristotle

and all successes which benet others and not oneself; and services done to ones benefactors, for this is just; and good deeds generally, since they are not directed to ones own prot. And the opposites of those things of which men feel ashamed, for men are ashamed of saying, doing, or intending to do shameful things. So when Alcaeus said Something I fain would say to thee, Only shame restraineth me, Sappho wrote If for things good and noble thou wert yearning, If to speak baseness were thy tongue not burning, No load of shame would on thine eyelids weigh; What thou with honour wishest thou wouldst say. Those things, also, are noble for which men strive anxiously, without feeling fear; for they feel thus about the good things which lead to fame. Again, one excellence or action is nobler than another if it is that of a naturally ner being: thus a mans will be nobler than a womans. And those qualities are noble which give more pleasure to other people than to their possessors; hence the nobleness of justice and just actions. It is noble to avenge oneself on ones enemies and not to come to terms with them; for requital is just, and the just is noble; and not to surrender is a sign of courage. Victory, too, and honour belong to the class of noble things, since they are desirable although they yield no fruits, and they prove our superiority in good qualities. Things that deserve to be remembered are noble, and the more they deserve this, the nobler they are. So are the things that continue even after death; [those which are always attended by honour]23 those which are exceptional; and those which are possessed by one person alonethese last are more readily remembered than others. So again are possessions that bring no prot, since they are more tting than others for a gentleman. So are the distinctive qualities of a particular people, and the symbols of what it specially admires, like long hair in Sparta, where this is a mark of a free man, as it is not easy to perform any menial task when ones hair is long. Again, it is noble not to practise any sordid craft, since it is the mark of a free man not to live at anothers beck and call. We are also to assume, when we wish either to praise a man or blame him, that qualities closely allied to those which he actually has are identical with them; for instance, that the cautious man is cold-blooded and treacherous, and that the
23

Excised by Kassel.

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stupid man is an honest fellow or the thick-skinned man a good-tempered one. We can always idealize any given man by drawing on the virtues akin to his actual qualities; thus we may say that the passionate and excitable man is frank; or that the arrogant man is superb or impressive. Those who run to extremes will be said to possess the corresponding good qualities; rashness will be called courage, and extravagance generosity. That will be what most people think; and at the same time this method enables an advocate to draw a misleading inference from the motive, arguing that if a man runs into danger needlessly, much more will he do so in a noble cause; and if a man is open-handed to anyone and everyone, he will be so to his friends also, since it is the extreme form of goodness to be good to everybody. We must also take into account the nature of our particular audience when making a speech of praise; for, as Socrates used to say, it is not difcult to praise the Athenians to an Athenian audience.24 If the audience esteems a given quality, we must say that our hero has that quality, no matter whether we are addressing Scythians or Spartans or philosophers. Everything, in fact, that is esteemed we are to represent as noble. After all, people regard the two things as much the same. All actions are noble that are appropriate to the man who does them: if, for instance, they are worthy of his ancestors or of his own past career. For it makes for happiness, and is a noble thing, that he should add to the honour he already has. Even inappropriate actions are noble if they are better and nobler than the appropriate ones would be; for instance, if one who was just an average person when all went well becomes a hero in adversity, or if he becomes better and easier to get on with the higher he rises. Compare the saying of Iphicrates, Think what I was and what I am; and the epigram on the victor at the Olympic games, In time past, bearing a yoke on my shoulders, of wood unshaven; and the encomium of Simonides, A woman whose father, whose husband, whose brethren were princes all. Since we praise a man for what he has actually done, and ne actions are distinguished from others by being chosen, we must try to prove that his acts are based on choice. This is all the easier if we can make out that he has often acted so before, and therefore we must assert coincidences and accidents to have been
24

1367b7-1367b11

1367b12-1367b26

See Plato, Menexenus 235D.

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1367b36-2177

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1368a11-1368a18

chosen. Produce a number of good actions, all of the same kind, and people will think that they are signs of excellence and choice. 25 [[Praise is the expression in words of the eminence of a mans good qualities, and therefore we must display his actions as the product of such qualities; [Encomium refers to what he has actually done]26 the mention of accessories, such as good birth and education, merely helps to make our story crediblegood fathers are likely to have good sons, and good training is likely to produce good character. [Hence it is only when a man has already done something that we bestow encomiums upon him.]27 Yet the actual deeds are evidence of the doers character: even if a man has not actually done a given good thing, we shall bestow praise on him, if we are sure that he is the sort of man who would do it. [To call any one blest is the same thing as to call him happy; but these are not the same thing as to bestow praise and encomium upon him; the two latter are a part of calling happy, just as goodness is a part of happiness.]28 To praise a man is in one respect akin to urging a course of action. The suggestions which would be made in the latter case become encomiums when differently expressed. Since we know what action or character is required, then, in order to express these facts as suggestions for action, we have to change and reverse our form of words. Thus the statement A man should be proud not of what he owes to fortune but of what he owes to himself, if put like this, amounts to a suggestion; to make it into praise we must put it thus, Since he is proud not of what he owes to fortune but of what he owes to himself. Consequently, whenever you want to praise anyone, think what you would urge people to do; and when you want to urge the doing of anything, think what you would praise a man for having done. Since suggestion may or may not forbid an action, the praise into which we convert it must have one or other of two opposite forms of expression accordingly.29 ]] There are, also, many useful ways of heightening the effect of praise. We must, for instance, point out that a man is the only one, or the rst, or almost the only one who has done something, or that he has done it better than anyone else; all these distinctions are honourable. And we must, further, make much of the particular season and occasion of an action; and these must be used when the action was inappropriate. If a man has often achieved the same success, we must
25 26

Kassel marks this and the following paragraph as a later addition by Aristotle himself. Excised by Kassel. 27 Excised by Kassel. 28 Excised by Kassel. 29 The text of this sentence is uncertain.

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mention this; that is a strong point; he himself, and not luck, will then be given the credit. So, too, if it is on his account that observances have been devised and instituted to encourage or honour such achievements as his own [[and if the rst encomium was made for him, as in the case of Hippolochus]],30 as Harmodius and Aristogeiton had their statues put up in the market-place. And we may censure bad men for the opposite reason. Again, if you cannot nd enough to say of a man himself, you may pit him against others, which is what Isocrates used to do owing to his familiarity with forensic pleading. The comparison should be with famous men; that will strengthen your case; it is a noble thing to surpass men who are themselves great. It is only natural that methods of heightening the effect should be attached particularly to speeches of praise; they aim at proving superiority over others, and any such superiority is a form of nobleness. Hence if you cannot compare your hero with famous men, you should at least compare him with other people generally, since any superiority is held to reveal excellence. And, in general, of the lines of argument which are common to all speeches, this heightening of effect is most suitable for declamations, where we take the actions as admitted facts, and our business is simply to invest these with dignity and nobility. Examples are most suitable to deliberative speeches; for we judge of future events by divination from past events. Enthymemes are most suitable to forensic speeches; it is the past which, because of its obscurity, most admits of explanation and demonstration. The above are the general lines on which all, or nearly all, speeches of praise or blame are constructed. We have seen the sort of thing we must bear in mind in making such speeches, and the materials out of which encomiums and censures are made. Knowing the above facts, we know their contraries; and it is out of these that speeches of censure are made. 10 We have next to treat of Accusation and Defence, and to enumerate and describe the ingredients of the deductions used therein. There are three things we must ascertainrst, the nature and number of the incentives to wrong-doing; second, the state of mind of wrongdoers; third, the kind of persons who are wronged, and their condition. We will deal with these questions in order. But before that let us dene the act of wrong-doing. We may describe wrong-doing as injury voluntarily inicted contrary to law. Law is either special or general. By special law I mean that written law which regulates the life of a particular community; by general law, all those unwritten
30

1368a19-1368a33

1368a34-1368a38

1368b1-1368b6

1368b7-1368b24

Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.

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1368b29-1369a4

1369a5-1369a31

principles which are supposed to be acknowledged everywhere. We do things voluntarily when we do them with knowledge and without constraint. (Not all voluntary acts are chosen but all chosen acts are done with knowledgeno one is ignorant of what he chooses.) The causes of our choosing harmful and wicked acts contrary to law are vice and incontinence. For the wrongs a man does to others will correspond to the bad quality or qualities that he himself possesses. Thus it is the mean man who will wrong others about money, the intemperate in matters of physical pleasure, the effeminate in matters of comfort, and the coward where danger is concerned [his terror makes him abandon those who are involved in the same danger].31 The ambitious man does wrong for the sake of honour, the quicktempered from anger, the lover of victory for the sake of victory, the embittered man for the sake of revenge, the stupid man because he has misguided notions of right and wrong, the shameless man because he does not mind what people think of him; and so with the restany wrong that anyone does to others corresponds to his particular faults of character. However, this subject has already been cleared up in part in our discussion of the excellences and will be further explained later when we treat of the emotions. We have now to consider the motives and states of mind of wrong-doers, and to whom they do wrong. Let us rst decide what sort of things people are trying to get or avoid when they set about doing wrong to others. For it is plain that the prosecutor must consider, out of all the aims that can ever induce us to do wrong to our neighbours, how many, and which, affect his adversary; while the defendant must consider how many, and which, do not affect him. Now every action of every person either is or is not due to that person himself. Of those not due to himself some are due to chance, the others to necessity; of these latter, again, some are due to compulsion, the others to nature. Consequently all actions that are not due to a man himself are due either to chance or to nature or to compulsion. All actions that are due to a man himself and caused by himself are due either to habit or to desire; and of the latter, some are due to rational desire, the others to irrational. Rational desire is wishing, and wishing is a desire for goodnobody wishes for anything unless he thinks it good. Irrational desire is twofold, viz. anger and appetite. Thus every action must be due to one or other of seven causes: chance, nature, compulsion, habit, reasoning, anger, or appetite. It is superuous further to distinguish actions according to the doers ages, states, or the like; it is of course true that, for instance, young men do have hot tempers and strong appetites; still,
31

Excised by Kassel.

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it is not through youth that they act accordingly, but through anger or appetite. Nor, again, is action due to wealth or poverty; it is of course true that poor men, being short of money, do have an appetite for it, and that rich men, being able to command needless pleasures, do have an appetite for such pleasures: but here, again, their actions will be due not to wealth or poverty but to appetite. Similarly, with just men, and unjust men, and all others who are said to act in accordance with their states, their actions will really be due to one of the causes mentioned either reasoning or emotion: due, indeed, sometimes to good dispositions and good emotions, and sometimes to bad; but that good qualities should be followed by good emotions, and bad by bad, is merely an accessory factit is no doubt true that the temperate man, for instance, because he is temperate, is always and at once attended by healthy opinions and appetites in regard to pleasant things, and the intemperate man by unhealthy ones. So we must ignore such distinctions. Still we must consider what kinds of actions and of people usually go together; for while there are no denite kinds of action associated with the fact that a man is fair or dark, tall or short, it does make a difference if he is young or old, just or unjust. And, generally speaking, all those accessory qualities that cause distinctions of human character are important: e.g. the sense of wealth or poverty, of being lucky or unlucky. This will be dealt with laterlet us now deal rst with the rest of the subject before us. The things that happen by chance are all those whose cause cannot be determined, that have no purpose, and that happen neither always nor for the most part nor in any xed way. The denition of chance shows just what they are. Those things happen by nature which have a xed and internal cause; they take place uniformly, either always or for the most part. There is no need to discuss in exact detail the things that happen contrary to nature, nor to ask whether they happen in some sense naturally or from some other cause; it would seem that chance is indeed the cause of such events. Those things happen through compulsion which take place contrary to the desire or reason of the agents themselves. Acts are done from habit which men do because they have often done them before. Actions are due to reasoning when, in view of any of the goods already mentioned, they appear useful either as ends or as contributing to an end, and are performed for that reasonfor intemperate men too perform a certain number of useful actions, but because they are pleasant and not because they are useful. To passion and anger are due all acts of revenge. Revenge and punishment are different things. Punishment is inicted for the sake of the person punished; revenge for that of the punisher, to satisfy his feelings. (What anger is will be made clear when we come to discuss the emotions.) Appetite is the cause of all actions that appear pleas-

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ant. Things familiar and things habitual belong to the class of pleasant things; for there are many actions not naturally pleasant which men perform with pleasure, once they have become used to them. To sum up then, all actions due to ourselves either are or seem to be either good or pleasant. Moreover, as all actions due to ourselves are done voluntarily and actions not due to ourselves are done involuntarily, it follows that all voluntary actions must either be or seem to be either good or pleasant; for I reckon among goods escape from evils or apparent evils and the exchange of a greater evil for a less (since these things are in a sense desirable), and likewise I count among pleasures escape from painful or apparently painful things and the exchange of a greater pain for a less. We must ascertain, then, the number and nature of the things that are useful and pleasant. The useful has been previously examined in connexion with deliberative oratory; let us now proceed to examine the pleasant. Our various denitions must be regarded as adequate, even if they are not exact, provided they are clear.
1371b11-2180

11 We may lay it down that pleasure is a movement, a movement by which the soul as a whole is consciously brought into its normal state of being; and that pain is the opposite. If this is what pleasure is, it is clear that the pleasant is what tends to produce this condition, while that which tends to destroy it, or to cause the soul to be brought into the opposite state, is painful. It must therefore be pleasant for the most part to move towards a natural state of being, particularly when a natural process has achieved the complete recovery of that natural state. Habits also are pleasant; for as soon as a thing has become habitual, it is virtually natural; habit is a thing not unlike nature; what happens often is akin to what happens always, natural events happening always, habitual events often. Again, that is pleasant which is not forced on us; for force is unnatural, and that is why what is compulsory is painful, and it has been rightly said All that is done on compulsion is bitterness unto the soul.32 So all acts of concentration, strong effort, and strain are necessarily painful; they all involve compulsion and force, unless we are accustomed to them, in which case it is custom that makes them pleasant. The opposites to these are pleasant; and hence ease, freedom from toil, relaxation, amusement, rest, and sleep belong to the class of pleasant things; for these are all free from any element of compulsion. Everything, too, is pleasant for which we have the appetite within us, since appetite is desire for pleasure. [[Of the appetites some are irrational, some associated with reason. By irrational I mean those which do not arise from any opinion
32

Evenus, frag. 8 West.

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held by the mind. Of this kind are those known as natural; for instance, those originating in the body, such as the appetite for nourishment, [namely hunger and thirst]33 and a separate kind of appetite answering to each kind of nourishment; and those connected with taste and sex and sensations of touch in general; and those of smell, hearing, and vision. Rational appetites are those which we are induced to have; there are many things we desire to see or get because we have been told of them and induced to believe them good.]]34 Further, pleasure is the consciousness through the senses of a certain kind of emotion; but imagination is a feeble sort of sensation, and there will always be in the mind of a man who remembers or expects something the imagination of what he remembers or expects. If this is so, it is clear that memory and expectation also, being accompanied by sensation, may be accompanied by pleasure. It follows that anything pleasant is either present and perceived, past and remembered, or future and expected, since we perceive present things, remember past ones, and expect future ones. Now the things that are pleasant to remember are not only those that, when actually present, were pleasant, but also some things that were not, provided that their results have subsequently proved noble and good. Hence the words Sweet tis when rescued to remember pain,35 and Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers All that he wrought and endured.36 The reason for this is that it is pleasant even to be merely free from evil. The things it is pleasant to expect are those that when present are felt to afford us either great delight or great but not painful benet. And in general, all the things that delight us when they are present also do so, for the most part, when we merely remember or expect them. Hence even being angry is pleasantHomer said of wrath that Sweeter it is by far than the honeycomb dripping with sweetness
37
33 34

Excised by Kassel. Kassel marks this passage as a later addition by Aristotle himself. 35 Euripides, frag. 133 Nauck. 36 Odyssey XV 400. 37 Iliad XVIII 109.

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for no one grows angry with a person on whom there is no prospect of taking vengeance, and we feel comparatively little anger, or none at all, with those who are much our superiors in power. Some pleasant feeling is associated with most of our appetites; we are enjoying either the memory of a past pleasure or the expectation of a future one, just as persons down with fever, during their attacks of thirst, enjoy remembering the drinks they have had and looking forward to having more. So also a lover enjoys talking or writing about his loved one, or doing any little thing connected with him; all these things recall him to memory and make him as it were present to the eye of imagination. Indeed, it is always the rst sign of love, that besides enjoying some ones presence, we remember him when he is gone; and we love when we actually feel pain because he is there no longer. Similarly there is an element of pleasure even in mourning and lamentation. There is grief, indeed, at his loss, but pleasure in remembering him and as it were seeing him before us in his deeds and in his life. We can well believe the poet when he says He spake, and in each mans heart he awakened the love of lament.38 Revenge, too, is pleasant; it is pleasant to get anything that it is painful to fail to get, and angry people suffer extreme pain when they fail to get their revenge; but they enjoy the prospect of getting it. Victory also is pleasant, and not merely to the competitive but to everyone; the winner sees himself in the light of a champion, and everybody has a more or less keen appetite for being that. The pleasantness of victory implies of course that combative sports and intellectual contests are pleasant (since in these it often happens that someone wins) and also games like knucklebones, ball, dice, and draughts. And similarly with the serious sports; some of these become pleasant when one is accustomed to them; while others are pleasant from the rst, like hunting with hounds, or indeed any kind of hunting. For where there is competition, there is victory. That is why forensic pleading and debating contests are pleasant to those who are accustomed to them and have the capacity for them. Honour and good repute are among the most pleasant things of all; they make a man see himself in the character of a ne fellow, especially when he is credited with it by people whom he thinks tell the truth. His neighbours are better judges than people at a distance; his associates and fellow-countrymen better than strangers; his contemporaries better than posterity; sensible persons better than foolish ones; a large number of people better than a small number:
38

Iliad XXIII 108; Odyssey IV 183.

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those of the former class, in each case, are the more likely to be truthful. Honour and credit bestowed by those whom you think much inferior to yourselfe.g. children or animalsyou do not value: not for its own sake, anyhow: if you do value it, it is for some other reason. Friends belong to the class of pleasant things; it is pleasant to loveif you love wine, you certainly nd it delightful; and it is pleasant to be loved, for this too makes a man see himself as the possessor of goodness, a thing that every being that has a feeling for it desires to possess: to be loved means to be valued for ones own personal qualities. To be admired is also pleasant, for the same reason as to be honoured is. Flattery and atterers are pleasant: the atterer is a man who, you believe, admires and likes you. To do the same thing often is pleasant, since, as we saw, anything familiar is pleasant. And to change is also pleasant: change means an approach to nature, whereas invariable repetition of anything causes the excessive prolongation of a settled condition: therefore, says the poet, Change is in all things sweet.39 That is why what comes to us only at long intervals is pleasant, whether it be a person or a thing; for it is a change from what we had before, and, besides, what comes only at long intervals has the value of rarity. Learning things and wondering at things are also pleasant for the most part; wondering implies the desire of learning, so that the object of wonder is an object of desire; while in learning one is brought into ones natural condition. [[Conferring and receiving benets belong to the class of pleasant things; to receive a benet is to get what one desires; to confer a benet implies both possession and superiority, both of which are things we try to attain. It is because benecent acts are pleasant that people nd it pleasant to put their neighbours straight again and to supply what they lack.]]40 Again, since learning and wondering are pleasant, it follows that such things as acts of imitation must be pleasantfor instance, painting, sculpture, poetryand every product of skilful imitation; this latter, even if the object imitated is not itself pleasant; for it is not the object itself which here gives delight; the spectator draws inferences (That is a so-and-so) and thus learns something fresh. Dramatic turns of fortune and hairbreadth escapes from perils are pleasant, because we feel all such things are wonderful. And since what is natural is pleasant, and things akin to each other seem natural to each other, therefore all kindred and similar things are for the most part
39 40

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Euripides, Orestes 234. Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.

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pleasant to each other; for instance, one man, horse, or young person is pleasant to another man, horse, or young person. Hence the proverbs mate delights mate, like to like, beast knows beast, jackdaw to jackdaw, and the rest of them. But since everything like and akin to oneself is pleasant, and since every man is himself more like and akin to himself than anyone else is, it follows that all of us must be more or less fond of ourselves. For all this resemblance and kinship is present particularly in the relation of an individual to himself. And because we are all fond of ourselves, it follows that what is our own is pleasant to all of us, as for instance our own deeds and words. That is why we are for the most part fond of our atterers, our lovers, and honour; also of our children, for our children are our own work. It is also pleasant to complete what is defective, for the whole thing thereupon becomes our own work. [[And since power over others is very pleasant, it is pleasant to be thought wise, for practical wisdom secures us power over others. (Scientic wisdom is the knowledge of many wonderful things.)]]41 Again, since for the most part men are ambitious, it must be pleasant to disparage our neighbours as well as to have power over them.42 It is pleasant for a man to spend his time over what he feels he can do best; just as the poet says, To that he bends himself, To that each day allots most time, wherein He is indeed the best part of himself.43 Similarly, since amusement and every kind of relaxation too belong to the class of pleasant things, it follows that ludicrous things are pleasant, whether men, words, or deeds. We have discussed the ludicrous separately in the treatise on the Art of Poetry. So much for the subject of pleasant things: by considering their opposites we can easily see what things are unpleasant. 12 The above are the motives that make men do wrong to others; we are next to consider the states of mind in which they do it, and the persons to whom they do it. They must themselves suppose that the thing can be done, and done by them; and that they can do it without being found out, or that if they are found out they can escape being punished, or that if they are punished the disadvantage will be less than the gain for themselves or those they care for. The general subject of
Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself. Deleting the full stop after einai. 43 Euripides, frag. 183 Nauck.
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apparent possibility and impossibility will be handled later on, since it is relevant to all kinds of speaking. But it may here be said that people think that they can themselves most easily do wrong to others without being punished for it if they possess eloquence, or practical ability, or much legal experience, or a large body of friends, or a great deal of money. Their condence is greatest if they personally possess the advantages mentioned; but even without them they are satised if they have friends or supporters or partners who do possess them: they can thus both commit their crimes and escape being found out and punished for committing them. They are also safe, they think, if they are on good terms with their victims or with the judges who try them. Their victims will in that case not be on their guard against being wronged, and will make some arrangement with them instead of prosecuting; while their judges will favour them because they like them, either letting them off altogether or imposing light sentences. They are not likely to be found out if their appearance contradicts the charges that might be brought against them (for instance, a weakling is unlikely to be charged with violent assault, or a poor and ugly man with adultery), or if they act publicly and in the open (for nobody could at all suppose that possible, and therefore no precautions are taken). The same is true of crimes so great and terrible that no man living could be suspected of them: here too no precautions are taken. For all men guard against ordinary offences, just as they guard against ordinary diseases; but no one takes precautions against an offence that nobody has ever yet committed. You feel safe, too, if you have either no enemies or a great many; if you have none, you expect not to be watched and therefore not to be detected; if you have a great many, you will be watched, and therefore people will think you can never risk an attempt on them, and you can defend your innocence by pointing out that you could never have taken such a risk. You may also trust to hide your crime by the way you do it or the place you do it in, or by some convenient means of disposal. You may feel that even if you are found out you can stave off a trial, or have it postponed, or corrupt your judges: or that even if you are sentenced you can avoid paying damages, or can at least postpone doing so for a long time: or that you are so badly off that you will have nothing to lose. You may feel that the gain to be got by wrong-doing is great or certain or immediate, and that the penalty is small or uncertain or distant. [[It may be that the advantage to be gained is greater than any possible retribution: as in the case of despotic power, as is thought.]]44 You may consider your crimes as bringing you solid prot, while their punishment is nothing more than being called bad names. Conversely, your crimes may bring you
44

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Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.

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some credit (thus you may, incidentally, be avenging your father or mother, like Zeno), whereas the punishment may amount to a ne, or banishment, or something of that sort. People may be led on to wrong others by either of these motives or feelings; but no man by boththey will affect people of quite opposite characters. You may be encouraged by having often escaped detection or punishment already; or by having often tried and failed; for in crime, as in war, there are men who will always refuse to give up the struggle. You may get your pleasure on the spot and the pain later, or the gain on the spot and the loss later. That is what appeals to incontinent personsand incontinence may be shown with regard to all the objects of desire. Converselywhat appeals to self-controlled and sensible peoplethe pain and loss may be immediate, while the pleasure and prot come later and last longer. You may feel able to make it appear that your crime was due to chance, or to necessity, or to natural causes, or to habit: in fact, to put it generally, as if you had made a mistake rather than actually done wrong. You may be able to trust other people to judge you equitably. You may be stimulated by being in want: which may mean that you want necessaries, as poor people do, or that you want luxuries, as rich people do. You may be encouraged by having a particularly good reputation, because that will save you from being suspected; or by having a particularly bad one, because nothing you are likely to do will make you more suspected. The above, then, are the various states of mind in which a man sets about doing wrong to others. The kind of people to whom he does wrong, and the ways in which he does it, must be considered next. The people to whom he does it are those who have what he wants himself, whether this means necessities or luxuries and materials for enjoyment. His victims may be far off or near at hand. If they are near, he gets his prot quickly; if they are far off, vengeance is slow, as those think who plunder the Carthaginians. They may be those who are trustful instead of being cautious and watchful, since all such people are easy to elude. Or those who are too easy-going to have enough energy to prosecute an offender. Or sensitive people, who are not apt to show ght over questions of money. Or those who have been wronged already by many people, and yet have not prosecuted; such men must surely be the proverbial Mysian prey. Or those who have either never or often been wronged before; in neither case will they take precautions; if they have never been wronged they think they never will, and if they have often been wronged they feel that surely it cannot happen again. Or those whose character has been attacked in the past, or is exposed to attack in the future: they will be too much frightened of the judges to choose to prosecute, nor can they win their case if they do: this is true of those who are hated or unpopular. Another likely class

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of victim is those who their injurer can pretend have, themselves or through their ancestors or friends, treated badly, or intended to treat badly, the man himself, or his ancestors, or those he cares for; as the proverb says, wickedness needs but a pretext. A man may wrong his enemies, because that is pleasant: he may equally wrong his friends, because that is easy. Then there are those who have no friends, and those who lack eloquence and practical capacity; these will either not attempt to prosecute, or they will come to terms, or failing that they will lose their case. There are those whom it does not pay to waste time in waiting for trial or damages, such as foreigners and small farmers; they will settle for a trie, and always be ready to leave off. Also those who have themselves wronged others, either often, or in the same way as they are now being wronged themselvesfor it is felt that next to no wrong is done to people when it is the same wrong as they have often themselves done to others: if, for instance, you assault a man who has been accustomed to behave with violence to others. So too with those who have done wrong to others, or have meant to, or mean to, or are likely to do so; there is something ne and pleasant in wronging such persons, it seems as though almost no wrong were done. Also those by doing wrong to whom we shall be gratifying our friends, or those we admire or love, or our masters, or in general the people by reference to whom we mould our lives. Also those whom we may wrong and yet be sure of equitable treatment. Also those against whom we have had any grievance, or any previous differences with them, as Callippus had when he behaved as he did to Dion: here too it seems as if almost no wrong were being done. Also those who are on the point of being wronged by others if we fail to wrong them ourselves, since here we feel we have no time left for thinking the matter over. So Aenesidemus is said to have sent the cottabus prize to Gelon, who had just reduced a town to slavery, because Gelon had got there rst and forestalled his own attempt. Also those by wronging whom we shall be able to do many righteous acts; for we feel that we can then easily cure the harm done. Thus Jason the Thessalian said that it is a duty to do some unjust acts in order to be able to do many just ones. Among the kinds of wrong done to others are those that are done universally, or at least commonly: one expects to be forgiven for doing these. Also those that can easily be kept dark, as where things that can rapidly be consumed like eatables are concerned, or things that can easily be changed in shape, colour, or combination, or things that can easily be stowed away almost anywhereportable objects that you can stow away in small corners, or things so like others of which you have plenty already that nobody can tell the difference. There are also wrongs of a kind that shame prevents the victim speaking about, such as outrages done to

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the women in his household or to himself or to his sons. Also those for which you would be thought very litigious to prosecute anyonetriing wrongs, or wrongs for which people are usually excused. The above is a fairly complete account of the circumstances under which men do wrong to others, of the sort of wrongs they do, of the sort of persons to whom they do them, and of their reasons for doing them. 13 It will now be well to make a complete classication of just and unjust actions. We may begin by observing that they have been dened relatively to two kinds of law, and also relatively to two classes of persons. By the two kinds of law I mean particular law and universal law. Particular law is that which each community lays down and applies to its own members: this is partly written and partly unwritten. Universal law is the law of nature. For there really is, as everyone to some extent divines, a natural justice and injustice that is common to all, even to those who have no association or covenant with each other. It is this that Sophocles Antigone clearly means when she says that the burial of Polyneices was a just act in spite of the prohibition: she means that it was just by nature. Not of to-day or yesterday it is, But lives eternal: none can date its birth.45 And so Empedocles, when he bids us kill no living creature, says that doing this is not just for some people while unjust for others, Nay, but, an all-embracing law, through the realms of the sky Unbroken it stretcheth, and over the earths immensity.46 And Alcidamas says the same in his Messeniac Oration. The actions that we ought to do or not to do have also been divided into two classes as affecting either the whole community or some one of its members. From this point of view we can perform just or unjust acts in either of two ways towards one denite person, or towards the community. The man who is guilty of adultery or assault is doing wrong to some denite person; the man who avoids service in the army is doing wrong to the community. Thus the whole class of unjust actions may be divided into two classes, those affecting the community, and those affecting one or more other persons. We will
45 46

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Antigone 456-7. Frag. 135 Diels-Kranz.

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next, before going further, say what being wronged is. Since it has already been settled that doing a wrong must be voluntary, being wronged must consist in having an injury done to you by someone who does it voluntarily. In order to be wronged, a man must suffer actual harm and suffer it involuntarily. The various possible forms of harm are clearly explained by our previous separate discussion of goods and evils. We have also seen that a voluntary action is one where the doer knows what he is doing. We now see that every accusation must be of an action affecting either the community or some individual. The doer of the action must either know and act voluntarily or not know and act involuntarily. In the former case, he must be acting either from choice or from passion. (Anger will be discussed when we speak of the passions; the motives for crime and the state of mind of the criminal have already been discussed.) Now it often happens that a man will admit an act, but will not admit the prosecutors label for the act nor the facts which that label implies. He will admit that he took a thing but not that he stole it; that he struck someone rst, but not that he committed outrage; that he had intercourse with a woman, but not that he committed adultery; that he is guilty of theft, but not that he is guilty of sacrilege, the object stolen not being consecrated; that he has encroached, but not that he has encroached on State lands; that he has been in communication with the enemy, but not that he has been guilty of treason. Here therefore we must be able to distinguish what is theft, outrage, or adultery, from what is not, if we are to be able to make the justice of our case clear, no matter whether our aim is to establish a mans guilt or to establish his innocence. Wherever such charges are brought against a man, the question is whether he is or is not a wrong-doer and wicked. It is choice that constitutes wickedness and wrong-doing, and such names as outrage or theft imply choice as well as the mere action. A blow does not always amount to outrage, but only if it is struck with some such purpose as to insult the man struck or gratify the striker himself. Nor does taking a thing without the owners knowledge always amount to theft, but only if it is taken with the intention of keeping it and injuring the owner. And as with these charges, so with all the others. We saw that there are two kinds of right and wrong conduct towards others, one provided for by written ordinances, the other by unwritten. We have now discussed the kind about which the laws have something to say. The other kind has itself two varieties. First, there is the conduct that springs from exceptional goodness or badness, and is visited accordingly with censure and loss of honour, or with praise and increase of honour and decorations: for instance, gratitude to, or requital of, our benefactors, readiness to help our friends, and the like. The second kind makes up for the defects of a communitys written code of law. For equity is

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regarded as just; it is, in fact, the sort of justice which goes beyond the written law. Its existence partly is and partly is not intended by legislators; not intended, where they have noticed no defect in the law; intended, where they nd themselves unable to dene things exactly, and are obliged to legislate universally where matters hold only for the most part; or where it is not easy to be complete owing to the endless possible cases presented, such as the kinds and sizes of weapons that may be used to inict woundsa lifetime would be too short to make out a complete list of these. If, then, a precise statement is impossible and yet legislation is necessary, the law must be expressed in wide terms; and so, if a man has no more than a nger-ring on his hand when he lifts it to strike or actually strikes another man, he is guilty of a criminal act according to the written words of the law; but he is innocent really, and it is equity that declares him to be so. From this denition of equity it is plain what sort of actions, and what sort of persons, are equitable or the reverse. Equity must be applied to forgivable actions; and it must make us distinguish between wrongdoings on the one hand, and mistakes, or misfortunes, on the other. (A misfortune is an act, not due to wickedness, that has unexpected results; a mistake is an act, also not due to turpitude, that has results that might have been expected; a wrongdoing has results that might have been expected, but is due to turpitude.) Equity bids us be merciful to the weakness of human nature; to think less about the laws than about the man who framed them, and less about what he said than about what he meant; not to consider the actions of the accused so much as his choice, nor this or that detail so much as the whole story; to ask not what a man is now but what he has always or for the most part been. It bids us remember benets rather than injuries, and benets received rather than benets conferred; to be patient when we are wronged; to settle a dispute by negotiation and not by force; to prefer arbitration to litigationfor an arbitrator goes by the equity of a case, a judge by the law, and arbitration was invented with the express purpose of securing full power for equity. The above may be taken as a sufcient account of the nature of equity. 14 The worse of two acts of wrong done to others is that which is prompted by the worse disposition. Hence the most triing acts may be the worst ones; as when Callistratus charged Melanopus with having cheated the temple-builders of three consecrated half-obols. The converse is true of just acts. This is because the greater is here potentially contained in the less: there is no crime that a man who has stolen three consecrated half-obols would shrink from committing. Sometimes, however, the worse act is reckoned not in this way but by the greater harm that it does. Or it may be because no punishment for it is severe enough to be ade-

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quate; or the harm done may be incurablea difcult and even hopeless crime to defend;47 or the sufferer may not be able to get his injurer legally punished, a fact that makes the harm incurable, since legal punishment and chastisement are the proper cure. Or again, the man who has suffered wrong may have inicted some fearful punishment on himself; then the doer of the wrong ought in justice to receive a still more fearful punishment. Thus Sophocles, when pleading for retribution to Euctemon, who had cut his own throat because of the outrage done to him, said he would not x a penalty less than the victim had xed for himself. Again, a mans crime is worse if he has been the rst man, or the only man, or almost the only man, to commit it; or if it is by no means the rst time he has made the same mistake; or if his crime has led to the thinking-out and invention of measures to prevent and punish similar crimesthus in Argos a penalty is inicted on a man on whose account a law is passed, and also on those on whose account the prison was built; or if a crime is specially brutal, or specially deliberate; or if the report of it arouses more terror than pity. There are also such rhetorically effective ways of putting it as the following: that the accused has disregarded and broken not one but many solemn obligations like oaths, promises, pledges, or rights of intermarriage between stateshere the crime is worse because it consists of many crimes; and that the crime was committed in the very place where criminals are punished, as for example perjurers doit is argued that a man who will commit a crime in a law-court would commit it anywhere. Further, the worse deed is that which involves the doer in special shame; that whereby a man wrongs his benefactors for he does more than one wrong, by not merely doing them harm but failing to do them good; that which breaks the unwritten laws of justicethe better sort of man will be just without being forced to be so, and the written laws depend on force while the unwritten ones do not. It may however be argued otherwise, that the crime is worse which breaks the written laws; for the man who commits crimes for which terrible penalties are provided will not hesitate over crimes for which no penalty is provided at all.So much, then, for the comparative badness of wrongdoing. 15 There are also the so-called non-technical means of persuasion; and we must now take a cursory view of these, since they are specially characteristic of forensic oratory. They are ve in number: laws, witnesses, contracts, tortures, oaths. First, then, let us take laws and see how they are to be used in persuasion and
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The sense of this clause is obscure.

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dissuasion, in accusation and defence. If the written law tells against our case, clearly we must appeal to the universal law and to equity as being more just. We must argue that the jurors oath I will give my verdict according to my honest opinion means that one will not simply follow the letter of the written law. We must urge that the principles of equity are permanent and changeless, and that the universal law does not change either, for it is the law of nature, whereas written laws often do change. This is the bearing of the lines in Sophocles Antigone, where Antigone pleads that in burying her brother she had broken Creons law, but not the unwritten law: Not of today or yesterday they are; Not I would fear the wrath of any man . . .48 We shall argue that justice indeed is true and protable, but that sham justice is not, and that consequently the written law is not, because it does not full the function of law. Or that justice is like silver, and must be assayed by the judges, if the genuine is to be distinguished from the counterfeit. Or that the better man will follow and abide by the unwritten law in preference to the written. Or perhaps that the law in question contradicts some other highly-esteemed law, or even contradicts itself. Thus it may be that one law will enact that all contracts must be held binding, while another forbids us ever to make illegal contracts. Or if a law is ambiguous, we shall turn it about and consider which construction best ts the interests of justice or utility, and then follow that way of looking at it. Or if, though the law still exists, the situation to meet which it was passed exists no longer, we must do our best to prove this and to combat the law thereby. If however the written law supports our case, we must urge that the oath to give my verdict according to my honest opinion is not meant to make the judges give a verdict that is contrary to the law, but to save them from the guilt of perjury if they misunderstand what the law really means. Or that no one chooses what is absolutely good, but everyone what is good for himself. Or that not to use the laws is as bad as to have no laws at all. Or that, as in the other arts, it does not pay to try to be cleverer than the doctor: for less harm comes from the doctors mistakes than from the growing habit of disobeying authority. Or that trying to be cleverer than the laws is just what is forbidden by those codes of law that are accounted best.So far as the laws are concerned, the above discussion is probably sufcient. As to witnesses, they are of two kinds, the ancient and the recent; and these
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Antigone 456, 458.

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latter, again, either do or do not share in the risks of the trial. By ancient witnesses I mean the poets and all other notable persons whose judgements are known to all. Thus the Athenians appealed to Homer as a witness about Salamis; and the men of Tenedos not long ago appealed to Periander of Corinth in their dispute with the people of Sigeum; and Cleophon supported his accusation of Critias by quoting the elegiac verse of Solon, maintaining that discipline had long been slack in the family of Critias, or Solon would never have written, Pray thee, bid the red-haired Critias do what his father commands him.49 These witnesses are concerned with past events. As to future events we shall also appeal to soothsayers: thus Themistocles quoted the oracle about the wooden wall as a reason for engaging the enemys eet. Further, proverbs are, as has been said, one form of evidence. Thus if you are urging somebody not to make a friend of an old man, you will appeal to the proverb, Never show an old man kindness. Or if you are urging that he who has made away with fathers should also make away with their sons, quote, Fool, who slayeth the father and leaveth his sons to avenge him. Recent witnesses are well-known people who have expressed their opinions about some disputed matter: such opinions will be useful support for subsequent disputants on the same points: thus Eubulus used in the law-courts against Chares the reply Plato had made to Archibius, It has become the regular custom in this country to admit that one is a scoundrel. There are also those witnesses who share the risk of punishment if their evidence is pronounced false. These are valid witnesses to the fact that an action was or was not done, that something is or is not the case; they are not valid witnesses to the quality of an action, to its being just or unjust, useful or harmful. On such questions of quality the opinion of detached persons does count. Most trustworthy of all are the ancient witnesses, since they cannot be corrupted. In dealing with the evidence of witnesses, the following are useful arguments. If you have no witnesses on your side, you will argue that the judges must decide
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Frag. 22a West.

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from what is probable; that this is meant by giving a verdict in accordance with ones honest opinion; that probabilities cannot be bribed to mislead the court; and that probabilities are never convicted of perjury. If you have witnesses, and the other man has not, you will argue that probabilities cannot be put on their trial, and that we could do without the evidence of witnesses altogether if we need do no more than balance the pleas advanced on either side. The evidence of witnesses may refer either to ourselves or to our opponent; and either to questions of fact or to questions of personal character: so, clearly, we need never be at a loss for useful evidence. For if we have no evidence of fact supporting our own case or telling against that of our opponent, at least we can always nd evidence to prove our own worth or our opponents worthlessness. Other arguments about a witnessthat he is a friend or an enemy or neutral, or has a good, bad, or indifferent reputation, and any other such distinctionswe must construct from the same commonplaces as we use for enthymemes. Concerning contracts argument can be so far employed as to increase or diminish their importance and their credibility; we shall try to increase both if they tell in our favour, and to diminish both if they tell in favour of our opponent. Now for conrming or upsetting the credibility of contracts the procedure is just the same as for dealing with witnesses, for the credit to be attached to contracts depends upon the character of those who have signed them or have the custody of them. The contract being once admitted genuine, we must insist on its importance, if it supports our case. We may argue that a contract is a law, though of a special and limited kind; and that, while contracts do not of course make the law binding, the law does make any lawful contract binding, and that the law itself as a whole is a sort of contract, so that anyone who disregards or repudiates any contract is repudiating the law itself. Further, most business relationsthose, namely, that are voluntaryare regulated by contracts, and if these lose their binding force, human intercourse ceases to exist. We need not go very deep to discover the other appropriate arguments of this kind. If, however, the contract tells against us and for our opponents, in the rst place those arguments are suitable which we can use to ght a law that tells against us. We do not regard ourselves as bound to observe a bad law which it was a mistake ever to pass: and it is ridiculous to suppose that we are bound to observe a bad and mistaken contract. Again, we may argue that the duty of the judge as umpire is to decide what is just, and therefore he must ask where justice lies, and not what this or that document means. And that it is impossible to pervert justice by fraud or by force, since it is founded on nature, but a party to a contract may be the victim of either fraud or force. Moreover, we must see if the contract contravenes either universal law or any written law of

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our own or another country; and also if it contradicts any other previous or subsequent contract; arguing that the subsequent is the binding contract, or else that the previous one was right and the subsequent one fraudulentwhichever way suits us. Further, we must consider the question of utility, noting whether the contract is against the interest of the judges or not; and so onthese arguments are as obvious as the others. Examination by torture is one form of evidence, to which great weight is often attached because it is in a sense compulsory. Here again it is not hard to point out the available grounds for magnifying its value, if it happens to tell in our favour, and arguing that it is the only form of evidence that is truthful; or, on the other hand, for refuting it if it tells against us and for our opponent, when we may say what is true of torture of every kind alike, that people under its compulsion lie just as often, sometimes persistently refusing to tell the truth, sometimes recklessly making a false charge in order to be let off sooner. We ought to be able to quote cases, familiar to the judges, in which this sort of thing has actually happened. In regard to oaths, a fourfold division can be made. A man may either both offer and accept an oath, or neither, or one without the otherthat is, he may offer an oath but not accept one, or accept an oath but not offer one. There is also the situation that arises when an oath has already been sworn either by himself or by his opponent. If you refuse to offer an oath, you may argue that men do not hesitate to perjure themselves; and that if your opponent does swear, you lose your money, whereas, if he does not, you think the judges will decide against him; and that the risk of an unfavourable verdict is preferable, since you trust the judges and do not trust him. If you refuse to accept an oath, you may argue that an oath is always paid for; that you would of course have taken it if you had been a rascal, since if you are a rascal you had better make something by it, and you would in that case have to swear in order to succeed. Thus your refusal, you argue, must be due to excellence, not to fear of perjury: and you may aptly quote the saying of Xenophanes, that it is no fair challenge when an impious man challenges a pious manit is as if a strong man were to challenge a weakling to strike, or be struck by, him. If you agree to accept an oath, you may argue that you trust yourself but not your opponent; and that (to invert the remark of Xenophanes) the fair thing is for the impious man to offer the oath and for the pious man to accept it; and that it would be monstrous if you yourself were unwilling to accept an oath in a case where you demand that the judges should do so before giving their verdict. If you wish to offer an oath, you may argue that piety disposes you to commit the issue

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to the gods; and that your opponent ought not to want other judges than himself, since you leave the decision with him; and that it is outrageous for your opponents to refuse to swear about this question, when they insist that others should do so. Now that we see how we are to argue in each case separately, we see also how we are to argue when they occur in pairs, namely, when you are willing to accept the oath but not to offer it; to offer it but not to accept it; both to accept and to offer it; or to do neither. These are of course combinations of the cases already mentioned, and so your arguments also must be combinations of the arguments already mentioned. If you have already sworn an oath that contradicts your present one, you must argue that it is not perjury, since perjury is a crime, and a crime must be a voluntary action, whereas actions due to the force or fraud of others are involuntary. You must further reason from this that perjury depends on the intention and not on the spoken words. But if it is your opponent who has already sworn an oath that contradicts his present one, you must say that if he does not abide by his oaths he is the enemy of society, and that this is the reason why men take an oath before administering the laws. Do my opponents insist that you, the judges, must abide by the oath you have sworn, and yet will not abide by their own oaths? And there are other arguments which may be used to magnify the importance of the oath.

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Book II
1 We have now considered the materials to be used in supporting or opposing a measure, in pronouncing eulogies or censures, and for prosecution and defence. We have considered the opinions and propositions useful for persuasive arguments in these areas; for it is about these and on the basis of them that enthymemes are constructed, separately for each type of speech. But since rhetoric exists to affect the giving of decisionsthe hearers decide between one political speaker and another, and a legal verdict is a decisionthe orator must not only try to make the argument of his speech demonstrative and worthy of belief; he must also make his own character look right and put his hearers, who are to decide, into the right frame of mind. Particularly in deliberative oratory, but also in lawsuits, it adds much to an orators inuence that his own character should look right and that he should be thought to entertain the right feelings towards his hearers; and also that his hearers themselves should be in just the right frame of mind. [[That the orators own character should look right is particularly important in deliberative speaking: that the audience should be in the right frame of mind, in lawsuits.]]50 When people are feeling friendly and placable, they think one sort of thing; when they are feeling angry or hostile, they think either something totally different or the same thing with a different intensity: when they feel friendly to the man who comes before them for judgement, they regard him as having done little wrong, if any; when they feel hostile, they take the opposite view. Again, if they are eager for, and have good hopes of, a thing that will be pleasant if it happens, they think that it certainly will happen and be good for them; whereas if they are indifferent or annoyed, they do not think so. There are three things which inspire condence in the orators own character the three, namely, that induce us to believe a thing apart from any proof of it: good sense, excellence, and goodwill. False statements and bad advice are due to one or more of the following three causes. Men either form a false opinion through want of good sense; or they form a true opinion, but because of their moral badness do not say what they really think; or nally, they are both sensible and upright, but not well disposed to their hearers, and may fail in consequence to recommend what they know to be the best course. These are the only possible cases. It follows
50

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Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.

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that anyone who is thought to have all these good qualities will inspire trust in his audience. The way to make ourselves thought to be sensible and good must be gathered from the analysis of goodness already given: the way to establish your own goodness is the same as the way to establish that of others. Goodwill and friendliness of disposition must form part of our discussion of the emotions. The emotions are all those feelings that so change men as to affect their judgements, and that are also attended by pain or pleasure. Such are anger, pity, fear and the like, with their opposites. We must arrange what we have to say about each of them under three heads. Take, for instance, the emotion of anger: here we must discover what the state of mind of angry people is, who the people are with whom they usually get angry, and on what grounds they get angry with them. It is not enough to know one or even two of these points; unless we know all three, we shall be unable to arouse anger in anyone. The same is true of the other emotions. So just as earlier in this work we drew up a list of propositions, let us now proceed in the same way to analyse the subject before us. 2 Anger may be dened as a desire accompanied by pain, for a conspicuous revenge for a conspicuous slight at the hands of men who have no call to slight oneself or ones friends. If this is a proper denition of anger, it must always be felt towards some particular individual, e.g. Cleon, and not man in general. It must be felt because the other has done or intended to do something to him or one of his friends. It must always be attended by a certain pleasurethat which arises from the expectation of revenge. For it is pleasant to think that you will attain what you aim at, and nobody aims at what he thinks he cannot attain. Hence it has been well said about wrath, Sweeter it is by far than the honeycomb dripping with sweetness, And spreads through the hearts of men.51 It is also attended by a certain pleasure because the thoughts dwell upon the act of vengeance, and the images then called up cause pleasure, like the images called up in dreams. Now slighting is the actively entertained opinion of something as obviously of no importance. We think bad things, as well as good ones, have serious importance; and we think the same of anything that tends to produce such things, while those which have little or no such tendency we consider unimportant. There are
51

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Iliad XVIII 109.

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three kinds of slightingcontempt, spite, and insolence. Contempt is one kind of slighting: you feel contempt for what you consider unimportant, and it is just such things that you slight. Spite is another kind; it is a thwarting another mans wishes, not to get something yourself but to prevent his getting it. The slight arises just from the fact that you do not aim at something for yourself: clearly you do not think that he can do you harm, for then you would be afraid of him instead of slighting him, nor yet that he can do you any good worth mentioning, for then you would be anxious to make friends with him. Insolence is also a form of slighting, since it consists in doing and saying things that cause shame to the victim, not in order that anything may happen to yourself, or because anything has happened to yourself, but simply for the pleasure involved. (Retaliation is not insolence, but vengeance.) The cause of the pleasure thus enjoyed by the insolent man is that he thinks himself greatly superior to others when ill-treating them. That is why youths and rich men are insolent; they think themselves superior when they show insolence. One sort of insolence is to rob people of the honour due to them; you certainly slight them thus; for it is the unimportant, for good or evil, that has no honour paid to it. So Achilles says in anger: He hath taken my prize for himself and hath done me dishonour, and Like an alien honoured by none,52 meaning that this is why he is angry. A man expects to be specially respected by his inferiors in birth, in capacity, in goodness, and generally in anything in which he is much their superior: as where money is concerned a wealthy man looks for respect from a poor man; where speaking is concerned, the man with a turn for oratory looks for respect from one who cannot speak; the ruler demands the respect of the ruled, and the man who thinks he ought to be a ruler demands the respect of the man whom he thinks he ought to be ruling. Hence it has been said Great is the wrath of kings, whose father is Zeus almighty, and Yea, but his rancour abideth long afterward also,53
52 53

Iliad I 356; IX 648. Iliad II 196; I 82.

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their great resentment being due to their great superiority. Then again a man looks for respect from those who he thinks owe him good treatment, and these are the people whom he has treated or is treating well, or means or has meant to treat well, either himself, or through his friends, or through others at his request. It will be plain by now, from what has been said, in what frame of mind, with what persons, and on what grounds people grow angry. The frame of mind is that in which any pain is being felt. In that condition, a man is always aiming at something. Whether, then, another man opposes him either directly in any way, as by preventing him from drinking when he is thirsty, or indirectly; whether someone works against him, or fails to work with him, or otherwise vexes him while he is in this mood, he is equally angry in all these cases. [Hence people who are aficted by sickness or poverty or love or thirst or any other unsatised desires are prone to anger and easily roused: especially against those who slight their present distress.]54 Thus a sick man is angered by disregard of his illness, a poor man by disregard of his poverty, a man waging war by disregard of the war he is waging, a lover by disregard of his love, and so in other cases too. Each man is predisposed, by the emotion now controlling him, to his own particular anger. Further, we are angered if we happen to be expecting a contrary result; for a quite unexpected evil is specially painful, just as the quite unexpected fullment of our wishes is specially pleasant. Hence it is plain what seasons, times, conditions, and periods of life tend to stir men easily to anger, and where and when this will happen; and it is plain that the more we are under these conditions the more easily we are stirred. These, then, are the frames of mind in which men are easily stirred to anger. The persons with whom we get angry are those who laugh, mock, or jeer at us, for such conduct is insolent. Also those who inict injuries upon us that are marks of insolence. These injuries must be such as are neither retaliatory nor protable to the doers; for then they will be felt to be due to insolence. Also those who speak ill of us, and show contempt for us, in connexion with the things we ourselves most care about: thus those who are eager to win fame as philosophers get angry with those who show contempt for their philosophy; those who pride themselves upon their appearance get angry with those who show contempt for their appearance; and so on in other cases. We feel particularly angry on this account if we suspect that we are in fact, or that people think we are, lacking completely or to any effective extent in the qualities in question. For when we are convinced that we excel in the qualities for which we are jeered at, we can ignore the jeering.
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Excised by Kassel.

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Again, we are angrier with our friends than with other people, since we feel that our friends ought to treat us well and not badly. We are angry with those who have usually treated us with honour or regard, if a change comes and they behave to us otherwise; for we think that they feel contempt for us, or they would still be behaving as they did before. And with those who do not return our kindnesses or fail to return them adequately, and with those who oppose us though they are our inferiors; for all such persons seem to feel contempt for usthose who oppose us seem to think us inferior to themselves, and those who do not return our kindnesses seem to think that those kindnesses were conferred by inferiors. And we feel particularly angry with men of no account at all, if they slight us. For we have supposed that anger caused by the slight is felt towards people who are not justied in slighting us, and our inferiors are not thus justied. Again, we feel angry with friends if they do not speak well of us or treat us well; and still more, if they do the contrary; or if they do not perceive our needs, which is why Plexippus is angry with Meleager in Antiphons play; for this want of perception shows that they are slighting uswe do not fail to perceive the needs of those for whom we care. Again, we are angry with those who rejoice at our misfortunes or simply keep cheerful in the midst of our misfortunes, since this shows that they either hate us or are slighting us. Also with those who are indifferent to the pain they give us: this is why we get angry with bringers of bad news. And with those who listen to stories about us or keep on looking at our weaknesses; this seems like either slighting us or hating us; for those who love us share in all our distresses and it must distress anyone to keep on looking at his own weaknesses. Further, with those who slight us before ve classes of people: namely, our rivals, those whom we admire, those whom we wish to admire us, those for whom we feel reverence, those who feel reverence for us: if anyone slights us before such persons, we feel particularly angry. Again, we feel angry with those who slight us in connexion with what we are as honourable men bound to championour parents, children, wives, or subjects. And with those who do not return a favour, since such a slight is unjustiable. Also with those who reply with humorous levity when we are speaking seriously, for such behaviour indicates contempt. And with those who treat us less well than they treat everybody else; it is another mark of contempt that they should think we do not deserve what everyone else deserves. Forgetfulness, too, causes anger, as when our own names are forgotten, triing as this may be; since forgetfulness is felt to be another sign that we are being slighted; it is due to negligence, and to neglect us is to slight us. The persons with whom we feel anger, the frame of mind in which we feel it, and the reasons why we feel it, have now all been set forth. Clearly the orator will

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have to speak so as to bring his hearers into a frame of mind that will dispose them to anger, and to represent his adversaries as open to such charges and possessed of such qualities as do make people angry.
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3 Since growing calm is the opposite of growing angry, and calmness the opposite of anger, we must ascertain in what frames of mind men are calm, towards whom they feel calm, and by what means they are made so. Growing calm may be dened as a settling down or quieting of anger. Now we get angry with those who slight us; and since slighting is a voluntary act, it is plain that we feel calm towards those who do nothing of the kind, or who do or seem to do it involuntarily. Also towards those who intended to do the opposite of what they did do. Also towards those who treat themselves as they have treated us: since no one can be supposed to slight himself. Also towards those who admit their fault and are sorry; since we accept their grief at what they have done as satisfaction, and cease to be angry. The punishment of servants shows this: those who contradict us and deny their offence we punish all the more, but we cease to be incensed against those who agree that they deserve their punishment. The reason is that it is shameless to deny what is obvious, and those who are shameless towards us slight us and show contempt for us: anyhow, we do not feel shame before those of whom we are thoroughly contemptuous. Also we feel calm towards those who humble themselves before us and do not gainsay us; we feel that they thus admit themselves our inferiors, and inferiors feel fear, and nobody can slight anyone so long as he feels afraid of him. That our anger ceases towards those who humble themselves before us is shown even by dogs, who do not bite people when they sit down. We also feel calm towards those who are serious when we are serious, because then we feel that we are treated seriously and not contemptuously. Also towards those who have done us more kindnesses than we have done them. Also towards those who pray to us and beg for mercy, since they humble themselves by doing so. Also towards those who do not insult or mock at or slight any one at all, or not any worthy person or anyone like ourselves. [[In general, the things that make us calm may be inferred by seeing what the opposites are of those that make us angry.]]55 We are not angry with people we fear or respect; for while we are in these states we are not angryyou cannot be afraid of a person and also at the same time angry with him. Again, we feel no anger, or comparatively little, with those who have done what they did through anger; we do not feel that they have done it from a wish to slight us, for no one slights people when angry with
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Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.

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them, since slighting is painless, and anger is painful. Nor do we grow angry with those who reverence us. As to the frame of mind that makes people calm, it is plainly the opposite to that which makes them angry, as when they are amusing themselves or laughing or feasting; when they are feeling prosperous or successful or satised; when, in ne, they are enjoying freedom from pain, or inoffensive pleasure, or justiable hope. Also when time has passed and their anger is no longer fresh, for time puts an end to anger. And vengeance previously taken on one person puts an end to even greater anger felt against another person. [[Hence Philocrates, being asked by someone, at a time when the public was angry with him, Why dont you defend yourself? did right to reply, The time is not yet. Why, when is the time? When I see someone else calumniated.]]56 For men become calm when they have spent their anger on somebody else. This happened in the case of Ergophilus: though the people were more irritated against him than against Callisthenes, they acquitted him because they had condemned Callisthenes to death the day before. Again, men become calm if they have convicted the offender; or if he has already suffered worse things than they in their anger would have themselves inicted upon him; for they feel as if they were already avenged. Or if they feel that they themselves are in the wrong and are suffering justly, since men no longer think then that they are suffering without justication; and anger, as we have seen, means this. Hence we ought always to inict a preliminary punishment in words: if that is done, even slaves are less aggrieved by the actual punishment. We also feel calm if we think that the offender will not see that he is punished on our account and because of the way he has treated us. This is plain from the denition. Hence the poet has well written: Say that it was Odysseus, sacker of cities,57 implying that Odysseus would not have been avenged unless the Cyclops perceived both by whom and for what he had been blinded. Consequently we do not get angry with anyone who cannot be aware of our anger, and we cease to be angry with people once they are dead, for we feel that the worst has been done to them, and that they will neither feel pain nor anything else that we in our anger aim at making them feel. And therefore the poet has well made Apollo say, in order to put a stop to the anger of Achilles against the dead Hector,
56 57

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Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself. Odyssey IX 504.

60 For behold in his fury he doeth despite to the senseless clay.58

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It is now plain that when you wish to calm others you must draw upon these commonplaces; you must put your hearers into the corresponding frame of mind, and represent those with whom they are angry as formidable, or as worthy of reverence, or as benefactors, or as involuntary agents, or as much distressed at what they have done.
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4 Let us now turn to friendship and enmity, and ask towards whom these feelings are entertained, and why. We will begin by dening friendship and friendly feeling. We may describe friendly feeling towards anyone as wishing for him what you believe to be good things, not for your own sake but for his, and being inclined, so far as you can, to bring these things about. [[A friend is one who feels thus and excites these feelings in return.]]59 Those who think they feel thus towards each other think themselves friends. This being assumed, it follows that your friend is the sort of man who shares your pleasure in what is good and your pain in what is unpleasant, for your sake and for no other reason. This pleasure and pain of his will be the token of his good wishes for you, since we all feel glad at getting what we wish for, and pained at getting what we do not. Those, then, are friends to whom the same things are good and evil; [[and those who are, moreover, friendly or unfriendly to the same people]]60 for in that case they must have the same wishes, and thus by wishing for each other what they wish for themselves, they show themselves each others friends. Again, we feel friendly to those who have treated us well, either ourselves or those we care for; or if they have done so on a large scale, or readily, or at some particular crisis; provided it was for our own sake. And also to those who we think wish to treat us well. And also to our friends friends, and to those who like, or are liked by, those whom we like ourselves. And also to those who are enemies to those whose enemies we are, and dislike, or are disliked by, those whom we dislike. For all such persons think the things good which we think good, so that they wish what is good for us; and this, as we saw, is what friends must do. And also to those who are willing to treat us well where money or our personal safety is concerned; and therefore we value those who are liberal and brave. And to just menthe just we consider to be those who do not live on others; which means those who work
58 59

Iliad XXIV 54. Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself. 60 Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.

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for their living, especially farmers and others who work with their own hands. We also like temperate men, because they are not unjust to others; and, for the same reason, those who mind their own business. And also those whose friends we wish to be, if it is plain that they wish to be our friends: such are the good in respect of excellence, and those well thought of by everyone, by the best men, or by those whom we admire or who admire us. And also those with whom it is pleasant to live and spend our days: such are the good-tempered, and those who are not too ready to show us our mistakes, and those who are not cantankerous or quarrelsomesuch people are always wanting to ght us, and those who ght us we feel wish for the opposite of what we wish for ourselvesand those who have the tact to make and take a joke; for in both ways they have the same object in view as their neighbour, being able to stand being made fun of as well as do it prettily themselves. And we also feel friendly towards those who praise such good qualities as we possess, and especially if they praise the good qualities that we are not too sure we do possess. And towards those who are cleanly in their person, their dress, and all their way of life. And towards those who do not reproach us with what we have done amiss to them or they have done to help us, for both actions show a tendency to criticize us. And towards those who do not nurse grudges or store up grievances, but are always ready to make friends again; for we take it that they will behave to us just as we nd them behaving to everyone else. And towards those who are not slanderers and who are aware of neither their neighbours bad points nor our own, but of our good ones only, as a good man always will be. And towards those who do not try to thwart us when we are angry or in earnest, which would mean being ready to ght us. And towards those who have some serious feeling towards us, such as admiration for us, or belief in our goodness, or pleasure in our company; especially if they feel like this about qualities in us for which we especially wish to be admired, esteemed, or liked. And towards those who are like ourselves in character and occupation, provided they do not get in our way or gain their living from the same source as we dofor then it will be a case of potter against potter. And those who desire the same things as we desire, if it is possible for us both to share them together; otherwise the same trouble arises here too. And towards those with whom we are on such terms that, while we respect their opinions, we need not blush before them for doing what is conventionally wrong; as well as towards those before whom we should be ashamed to do anything really wrong. Again, our rivals, and those whom we should like to envy usthough without ill-feelingeither we like these people or at least we wish them to like us. And we feel friendly towards those whom we help to secure good for themselves, provided we are not likely to suffer heavily by

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it ourselves. And those who feel as friendly to us when we are not with them as when we arewhich is why all men feel friendly towards those who are faithful to their dead friends. And, speaking generally, towards those who are really fond of their friends and do not desert them in trouble; of all good men, we feel most friendly to those who show their goodness as friends. Also towards those who are honest with us, including those who will tell us of their own weak points: it has just been said that with our friends we are not ashamed of what is conventionally wrong, and if we do have this feeling, we do not love them; if therefore we do not have it, it looks as if we did love them. We also like those with whom we do not feel frightened or uncomfortablenobody can like a man of whom he feels frightened. Friendship has various formscomradeship, intimacy, kinship, and so on. Things that cause friendship are: doing kindnesses; doing them unasked; and not proclaiming the fact when they are done, which shows that they were done for our own sake and not for some other reason. Enmity and hatred should clearly be studied by reference to their opposites. Enmity may be produced by anger or spite or calumny. Now whereas anger arises from offences against oneself, enmity may arise even without that; we may hate people merely because of what we take to be their character. Anger is always concerned with individualsCallias or Socrateswhereas hatred is directed also against classes: we all hate any thief and any informer. Moreover, anger can be cured by time; but hatred cannot. The one aims at giving pain to its object, the other at doing him harm; the angry man wants his victims to feel; the hater does not mind whether they feel or not. All painful things are felt; but the greatest evils, injustice and folly, are the least felt, since their presence causes no pain. And anger is accompanied by pain, hatred is not; the angry man feels pain, but the hater does not. Much may happen to make the angry man pity those who offend him, but the hater under no circumstances wishes to pity a man whom he has once hated; for the one would have the offenders suffer for what they have done; the other would have them cease to exist. It is plain from all this that we can prove people to be friends or enemies; if they are not, we can make them out to be so; if they claim to be so, we can refute their claim; and if they are disputing through anger or hatred, we can bring them to whichever of these we prefer. 5 Next, we show the things and persons of which, and the states of mind in which, we feel afraid. Fear may be dened as a pain or disturbance due to imagining some destructive or painful evil in the future. For there are some evils,

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e.g. wickedness or stupidity, the prospect of which does not frighten us: only such as amount to great pains or losses do. And even these only if they appear not remote but so near as to be imminent: we do not fear things that are a very long way off; for instance, we all know we shall die, but we are not troubled thereby, because death is not close at hand. From this denition it will follow that fear is caused by whatever we feel has great power of destroying us, or of harming us in ways that tend to cause us great pain. Hence the very indications of such things are terrible, making us feel that the terrible thing itself is close at hand; and thisthe approach of what is terribleis danger. Such indications are the enmity and anger of people who have power to do something to us; for it is plain that they have the will to do it, and so they are on the point of doing it. Also injustice in possession of power; for it is the unjust mans choice that makes him unjust. Also outraged excellence in possession of power; for it is plain that, when outraged, it always chooses to retaliate, and now it has the power to do so. Also fear felt by those who have the power to do something to us, since such persons are sure to be ready to do it. And since most men tend to be badslaves to greed, and cowards in dangerit is, as a rule, a terrible thing to be at another mans mercy; and therefore, if we have done anything horrible, those in the secret terrify us with the thought that they may betray or desert us. And those who can do us wrong are terrible to us when we are liable to be wronged; for as a rule men do wrong to others whenever they have the power to do it. And those who have been wronged, or believe themselves to be wronged, are terrible; for they are always looking out for their opportunity. Also those who have done people wrong, if they possess power, since they stand in fear of retaliation: we have already said that wickedness possessing power is terrible. Again, our rivals for a thing cause us fear when we cannot both have it at once; for we are always at war with such men. We also fear those who are to be feared by stronger people than ourselves: if they can hurt those stronger people, still more can they hurt us; and, for the same reason, we fear those whom those stronger people are actually afraid of. Also those who have destroyed people stronger than we are. Also those who are attacking people weaker than we are: either they are already formidable, or they will be so when they have thus grown stronger. Of those we have wronged, and of our enemies or rivals, it is not the passionate and outspoken whom we have to fear, but the quiet, dissembling, unscrupulous; since we never know when they are upon us, we can never be sure they are at a safe distance. All terrible things are more terrible if they give us no chance of retrieving a blundereither no chance at all, or only one that depends on our enemies and not ourselves. Those things are also worse which we cannot, or cannot easily, help. Speaking generally, anything causes us

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to feel fear that when it happens to, or threatens, others causes us to feel pity. The above are, roughly, the chief things that are terrible and are feared. Let us now describe the conditions under which we ourselves feel fear. If fear is associated with the expectation that something destructive will happen to us, plainly nobody will be afraid who believes nothing can happen to him; we shall not fear things that we believe cannot happen to us, nor people who we believe cannot inict them upon us; nor shall we be afraid at times when we think ourselves safe from them. It follows therefore that fear is felt by those who believe something to be likely to happen to them, at the hands of particular persons, in a particular form, and at a particular time. People do not believe this when they are, or think they are, in the midst of great prosperity, and are in consequence insolent, contemptuous, and recklessthe kind of character produced by wealth, physical strength, abundance of friends, power; nor yet when they feel they have experienced every kind of horror already and have grown callous about the future, like men who are being ogged to deathif they are to feel the anguish of uncertainty, there must be some faint expectation of escape. This appears from the fact that fear sets us thinking what can be done, which of course nobody does when things are hopeless. Consequently, when it is advisable that the audience should be frightened, the orator must make them feel that they really are in danger of something, pointing out that it has happened to others who were stronger than they are, and is happening, or has happened, to people like themselves, at the hands of unexpected people, in an unexpected form, and at an unexpected time. Having now seen the nature of fear, and of the things that cause it, and the various states of mind in which it is felt, we can also see what condence is, about what things we feel it, and under what conditions. It is the opposite of fear, and what causes it is the opposite of what causes fear; it is, therefore, the imaginative expectation of the nearness of what keeps us safe and the absence or remoteness of what is terrible: it may be due either to the near presence of what inspires condence or to the absence of what causes alarm. We feel it if we can take stepsmany, or important, or bothto cure or prevent trouble; if we have neither wronged others nor been wronged by them; if we have either no rivals at all or no strong ones; if our rivals who are strong are our friends or have treated us well or been treated well by us; or if those whose interest is the same as ours are the more numerous party, or the stronger, or both. As for our own state of mind, we feel condence if we believe we have often succeeded and never suffered reverses, or have often met danger and escaped it safely. For there are two reasons why human beings face danger calmly: they may have no experience of it, or they may have means to deal with it: thus when

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in danger at sea people may feel condent about what will happen either because they have no experience of bad weather, or because their experience gives them the means of dealing with it. We also feel condent whenever there is nothing to terrify other people like ourselves, or people weaker than ourselves, or people than whom we believe ourselves to be strongerand we believe this if we have conquered them, or conquered others who are as strong as they are, or stronger. Also if we believe ourselves superior to our rivals in the number and importance of the advantages that make men formidableplenty of money, men, friends, land, military equipment (of all, or the most important, kinds). Also if we have wronged no one, or not many, or not those of whom we are afraid. And when we are being wronged; [[and generally, if our relations with the gods are satisfactory, as will be shown especially by signs and oracles]]61 for anger makes us condent and, anger is excited by our knowledge that we are not the wrongers but the wronged, and that the divine power is always supposed to be on the side of the wronged. Also when, at the outset of an enterprise, we believe that we cannot fail, or that we shall succeed. So much for the causes of fear and condence. 6 Next we will explain the things that cause shame and shamelessness, and the persons before whom, and the states of mind under which they are felt. Shame may be dened as pain or disturbance in regard to bad things, whether present, past, or future, which seem likely to involve us in discredit; and shamelessness as contempt or indifference in regard to these same bad things. If this denition be granted, it follows that we feel shame at such bad things as we think are disgraceful to ourselves or to those we care for. These evils are, in the rst place, those due to badness. Such are throwing away ones shield or taking to ight; for these bad things are due to cowardice. Also, withholding a deposit; for that is due to injustice. Also, having carnal intercourse with forbidden persons, at wrong times, or in wrong places; for these things are due to licentiousness. Also, making prot in petty or disgraceful ways, or out of helpless persons, e.g. the poor, or the deadwhence the proverb He would pick a corpses pocket; for all this is due to low greed and meanness. Also, in money matters, giving less help than you might, or none at all, or accepting help from those worse off than yourself; so also borrowing when it will seem like begging; begging when it will seem like asking the return of a favour; asking such a return when it will seem like begging; praising a man in order that it may seem like begging; and going on begging in spite of failure: all such actions are tokens of meanness. [[Again, praising people
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to their face is a mark of attery.]]62 Also, praising extravagantly a mans good points and glozing over his weaknesses, and showing extravagant sympathy with his grief when you are in his presence, and all that sort of thing; all this shows the disposition of a atterer. Also, refusing to endure hardships that are endured by people who are older, more delicately brought up, of higher rank, or generally less capable of endurance than ourselves; for all this shows effeminacy. Also, accepting benets, especially accepting them often, from another man, and then abusing him for conferring them: all this shows a mean, ignoble disposition. Also, talking incessantly about yourself, making loud professions, and appropriating the merits of others; for this is due to boastfulness. The same is true of the actions due to any of the other forms of badness of character, of the tokens of such badness, and the like: they are all disgraceful and shameless. Another sort of bad thing at which we feel shame is, lacking a share in the honourable things shared by everyone else, or by all or nearly all who are like ourselves. By those like ourselves I mean those of our own race or country or age or family, and generally those who are on our own level. Once we are on a level with others, it is a disgrace to be, say, less well educated than they are; and so with other advantages: all the more so, in each case, if it is seen to be our own fault: wherever we are ourselves to blame for our present, past, or future circumstances, it follows at once that this is to a greater extent due to our badness. We are moreover ashamed of having done to us, having had done, or being about to have done to us acts that involve us in dishonour and reproach, e.g. when we submit to outrage (we yield to lust both voluntarily and involuntarily, to force involuntarily), for unresisting submission to them is due to unmanliness or cowardice. These things, and others like them, are what cause the feeling of shame. Now since shame is the imagination of disgrace, in which we shrink from the disgrace itself and not from its consequences, and we only care what opinion is held of us because of the people who form that opinion, it follows that the people before whom we feel shame are those whose opinion of us matters to us. Such persons are: those who admire us, those whom we admire, those by whom we wish to be admired, those with whom we are competing, and those whose opinion of us we respect. We admire those, and wish those to admire us, who possess any good thing that is highly esteemed; or from whom we are very anxious to get something that they are able to give usas a lover feels. We compete with our equals. We respect, as true, the views of sensible people, such as our elders and those who have been well educated. And we feel more shame about a thing if it
62

Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.

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is done openly, before all mens eyes. Hence the proverb, shame dwells in the eyes. For this reason we feel most shame before those who will always be with us and those who notice what we do, since in both cases eyes are upon us. We also feel it before those not open to the same imputation as ourselves; for it is plain that their opinions about it are the opposite of ours. [[Also before those who are hard on anyone whose conduct they think wrong.]]63 For what a man does himself, he is said not to resent when his neighbours do it: so that of course he does resent their doing what he does not do himself. And before those who are likely to tell everybody about you; not telling others is as good as not believing you wrong. People are likely to tell others about you if you have wronged them, since they are on the look out to harm you; or if they speak evil of everybody, for those who attack the innocent will be still more ready to attack the guilty. And before those whose main occupation is with their neighbours failingspeople like satirists and writers of comedy; these are really a kind of evil-speakers and tell-tales. And before those who have never yet known us come to grief, since their attitude to us has amounted to admiration so far: that is why we feel ashamed to refuse those a favour who ask one for the rst timewe have not as yet lost credit with them. Such are those who are just beginning to wish to be our friends; for they have seen our best side only (hence the appropriateness of Euripides reply to the Syracusans); and such also are those among our old acquaintances who know nothing to our discredit. And we are ashamed not merely of the actual shameful conduct mentioned, but also of the signs of it: not merely, for example, of actual sexual intercourse, but also of its signs; and not merely of disgraceful acts but also of disgraceful talk. Similarly we feel shame not merely in presence of the persons mentioned but also of those who will tell them what we have done, such as their servants or friends. And, generally, we feel no shame before those upon whose opinions we quite look down as untrustworthy (no one feels shame before small children or animals); nor are we ashamed of the same things before intimates as before strangers, but before the former of what seem genuine faults, before the latter of what seem conventional ones. The conditions under which we shall feel shame are these: rst, having people related to us like those before whom we said we feel shame. These are, as was stated, persons whom we admire, or who admire us, or by whom we wish to be admired, or from whom we desire some service that we shall not obtain if we forfeit their good opinion. These persons may be actually looking on (as Cydias represented them in his speech on land assignments in Samos, when he told the
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Athenians to imagine the Greeks to be standing all around them, actually seeing the way they voted and not merely going to hear about it afterwards); or again they may be near at hand, or may be likely to nd out about what we do. This is why in misfortune we do not wish to be seen by those who once wished themselves like us; for such a feeling implies admiration. And men feel shame when they have acts or exploits to their credit on which they are bringing dishonour, whether these are their own, or those of their ancestors, or those of other persons with whom they have some close connexion. Generally, we feel shame before those for whose own misconduct we should also feel itthose already mentioned; those who take us as their models, e.g. those whose teachers or advisers we have been; or other people, it may be, like ourselves, whose rivals we are. For there are many things that shame before such people makes us do or leave undone. And we feel more shame when we are likely to be seen by, and go about under the eyes of, those who know of our disgrace. Hence, when Antiphon the poet was to be ogged to death by order of Dionysius, and saw those who were to perish with him covering their faces as they went through the gates, he said Why do you cover your faces? Is it lest some of these spectators should see you tomorrow? So much for shame; to understand shamelessness, we need only consider the converse cases, and plainly we shall have all we need. 7 To take Kindness next: the denition of it will show us towards whom it is felt, why, and in what frames of mind. Kindnessunder the inuence of which a man is said to be kindmay be dened as helpfulness towards some one in need, not in return for anything, nor for the advantage of the helper himself, but for that of the person helped. Kindness is great if shown to one who is in great need, or who needs what is important and hard to get, or who needs it at an important and difcult crisis; or if the helper is the only, the rst, or the chief person to give the help. Desires constitute such needs; and in particular desires, accompanied by pain, for what is not being attained. The appetites are desires of this kind: sexual desire, for instance. Also those which arise during bodily injuries and in dangers; for appetite is active both in danger and in pain. Hence those who stand by us in poverty or in banishment, even if they do not help us much, are yet really kind to us, because our need is great and the occasion pressing; for instance, the man who gave the mat in the Lyceum. The helpfulness must therefore meet, preferably, just this kind of need; and failing just this kind, some other kind as great or greater. We now see to whom, why, and under what conditions kindness is shown; and these facts must form the basis of our arguments. We must show that the persons helped are, or have been, in such pain and need as has been described,

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and that their helpers gave, or are giving, the kind of help described, in the kind of need described. We can also see how to eliminate the idea of kindness and make our opponents appear unkind: we may maintain that they are being or have been helpful simply to promote their own interestthis, as has been stated, is not kindness; or that their action was accidental, or was forced upon them; or that they were not doing a favour, but merely returning one, whether they know this or notin either case the action is a mere return, and is therefore not a kindness even in the latter case. In considering this subject we must look at all the categories: an act may be an act of kindness because it is a particular thing, it has a particular magnitude or quality, or is done at a particular time or place. As evidence of the want of kindness, we may point out that a smaller service had been refused to the man in need; or that the same service, or an equal or greater one, has been given to his enemies; these facts show that the service in question was not done for the sake of the person helped. Or we may point out that the thing desired was worthless and that the helper knew it: no one will admit that he is in need of what is worthless. 8 So much for kindness and unkindness. Let us now consider pity, asking ourselves what things excite pity, and for what persons, and in what states of our mind pity is felt. Pity may be dened as a feeling of pain at an apparent evil, destructive or painful, which befalls one who does not deserve it, and which we might expect to befall ourselves or some friend of ours, and moreover to befall us soon. For if we are to feel pity we must obviously be capable of supposing that some evil may happen to us or some friend of ours, and moreover some such evil as is stated in our denition or is more or less of that kind. It is therefore not felt by those completely ruined, who suppose that no further evil can befall them, since the worst has befallen them already; nor by those who imagine themselves immensely fortunatetheir feeling is rather insolence, for when they think they possess all the good things of life, it is clear that the impossibility of evil befalling them will be included, this being one of the good things in question. Those who think evil may befall them are such as have already had it befall them and have safely escaped from it; elderly men, owing to their good sense and their experience; weak men, especially men inclined to cowardice; and also educated people, since these can take long views. Also those who have parents living, or children, or wives; for these are our own, and the evils mentioned above may easily befall them. And those who are neither moved by any courageous emotion such as anger or condence (these emotions take no account of the future), nor by a disposition to insolence (insolent men, too, take no account of the possibility that something
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evil will happen to them), nor yet by great fear (panic-stricken people do not feel pity, because they are taken up with what is happening to themselves); only those feel pity who are between these two extremes. In order to feel pity we must also believe in the goodness of at least some people; if you think nobody good, you will believe that everybody deserves evil fortune. And, generally, we feel pity whenever we are in the condition of remembering that similar misfortunes have happened to us or ours, or expecting them to happen in future. So much for the mental conditions under which we feel pity. What we pity is stated clearly in the denition. All unpleasant and painful things excite pity, and all destructive things; and all such evils as are due to chance, if they are serious. The painful and destructive evils are: death in its various forms, bodily injuries and afictions, old age, diseases, lack of food. The evils due to chance are: friendlessness, scarcity of friends (it is a pitiful thing to be torn away from friends and companions), deformity, weakness, mutilation; evil coming from a source from which good ought to have come; and the frequent repetition of such misfortunes. Also the coming of good when the worst has happened: e.g. the arrival of the Great Kings gifts for Diopeithes after his death. Also that either no good should have befallen a man at all, or that he should not be able to enjoy it when it has. The grounds, then, on which we feel pity are these or like these. The people we pity are: those whom we know, if only they are not very closely related to usin that case we feel about them as if we were in danger ourselves. For this reason Amasis did not weep, they say, at the sight of his son being led to death, but did weep when he saw his friend begging: the latter sight was pitiful, the former terrible, and the terrible is different from the pitiful; it tends to cast out pity, and often helps to produce the opposite of pity. For we no longer feel pity when the danger is near ourselves. Also we pity those who are like us in age, character, disposition, social standing, or birth; for in all these cases it appears more likely that the same misfortune may befall us also. Here too we have to remember the general principle that what we fear for ourselves excites our pity when it happens to others. Further, since it is when the sufferings of others are close to us that they excite our pity (we cannot remember what disasters happened a hundred centuries ago, nor look forward to what will happen a hundred centuries hereafter, and therefore feel little pity, if any, for such things): it follows that those who heighten the effect of their words with suitable gestures, tones, appearance, and dramatic action generally, are especially successful in exciting pity: they thus put the disasters before our eyes, and make them seem close to us, just coming or just past. Anything that has just happened, or is going to happen soon, is

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particularly piteous: so too therefore are the signs of sufferingthe garments and the like of those who have already suffered; the words and the like of those actually sufferingof those, for instance, who are on the point of death. For all this, because it seems close, tends to produce pity. Most piteous of all is it when, in such times of trial, the victims are persons of noble character, for their suffering is undeserved and it is set before our eyes. 9 Most directly opposed to pity is the feeling called indignation. Pain at unmerited good fortune is, in one sense, opposite to pain at unmerited bad fortune, and is due to the same character. Both feelings are associated with good character; it is our duty to feel sympathy and pity for unmerited distress, and to feel indignation at unmerited prosperity; for whatever is undeserved is unjust, and that is why we ascribe indignation even to the gods. It might indeed be thought that envy is similarly opposed to pity, on the ground that envy is closely akin to indignation, or even the same thing. But it is not the same. It is true that it also is a disturbing pain excited by the prosperity of others. But it is excited not by the prosperity of the undeserving but by that of people who are like us or equal with us. The two feelings have this in common, that they must be due not to some untoward thing being likely to befall ourselves, but only to what is happening to our neighbour. The feeling ceases to be envy in the one case and indignation in the other, and becomes fear, if the pain and disturbance are due to the prospect of something bad for ourselves as the result of the other mans good fortune. The feelings of pity and indignation will obviously be attended by the converse feelings of satisfaction. If you are pained by the unmerited distress of others, you will be pleased, or at least not pained, by their merited distress. Thus no good man can be pained by the punishment of parricides or murderers. These are things we are bound to rejoice at, as we must at the prosperity of the deserving; both these things are just, and both give pleasure to any honest man, since he cannot help expecting that what has happened to a man like him will happen to him too. All these feelings are associated with the same type of character. And their contraries are associated with the contrary type; the man who is delighted by others misfortunes is identical with the man who envies others prosperity. For anyone who is pained by the occurrence or existence of a given thing must be pleased by that things non-existence or destruction. We can now see that all these feelings tend to prevent pity (though they differ among themselves, for the reasons given), so that all are equally useful for neutralizing an appeal to pity. We will rst consider indignationreserving the other emotions for subsequent discussionand ask with whom, on what grounds, and in what states of
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mind we may be indignant. These questions are really answered by what has been said already. Indignation is pain caused by the sight of undeserved good fortune. It is, then, plain to begin with that there are some forms of good the sight of which cannot cause it. Thus a man may be just or brave, or acquire excellence: but we shall not be indignant with him for that reason, any more than we shall pity him for the contrary reason. Indignation is roused by the sight of wealth, power, and the likeby all those things, roughly speaking, which are deserved by good men and by those who possess the goods of naturenoble birth, beauty, and so on. Again, what is long established seems akin to what exists by nature; and therefore we feel more indignation at those possessing a given good if they have as a matter of fact only just got it and the prosperity it brings with it. The newly rich give more offence than those whose wealth is of long standing and inherited. The same is true of those who have ofce or power, plenty of friends, a ne family, etc. We feel the same when these advantages of theirs secure them others. For here again, the newly rich give us more offence by obtaining ofce through their riches than do those whose wealth is of long standing; and so in all other cases. The reason is that what the latter have is felt to be really their own, but what the others have is not: what appears to have been always what it is is regarded as real, and so the possessions of the newly rich do not seem to be really their own. Further, it is not any and every man that deserves any given kind of good; there is a certain correspondence and appropriateness in such things; thus it is appropriate for brave men, not for just men, to have ne weapons, and for men of family, not for parvenus, to make distinguished marriages. Indignation may therefore properly be felt when anyone gets what is not appropriate for him, though he may be a good man enough. It may also be felt when anyone sets himself up against his superior, especially against his superior in some particular respectwhence the lines Only from battle he shrank with Ajax, Telamons son; Zeus had been angered with him, had he fought with a mightier one;64 but also, even apart from that, when the inferior in any sense contends with his superior; a musician, for instance, with a just man, for justice is a ner thing than music. Enough has been said to make clear the grounds on which, and the persons against whom, indignation is feltthey are those mentioned, and others like them. As for the people who feel it; we feel it if we do ourselves deserve the greatest
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See Iliad XI 542.

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possible goods and moreover have them, for it is an injustice that those who are not our equals should have been held to deserve as much as we have. Or, secondly, we feel it if we are really good and honest people; our judgement is then sound, and we loathe any kind of injustice. Also if we are ambitious and eager to gain particular ends, especially if we are ambitious for what others are getting without deserving to get it. And, generally, if we think that we ourselves deserve a thing and that others do not, we are disposed to be indignant with those others so far as that thing is concerned. Hence servile, worthless, unambitious persons are not inclined to indignation, since there is nothing they can believe themselves to deserve. From all this it is plain what sort of men those are at whose misfortunes, distresses, or failures we ought to feel pleased, or at least not pained: by considering the facts described we see at once what their contraries are. If therefore our speech puts the judges in such a frame of mind as that indicated and shows that those who claim pity on certain denite grounds do not deserve to secure pity but do deserve not to secure it, it will be impossible for the judges to feel pity. 10 To take envy next: we can see on what grounds, against what persons, and in what states of mind we feel it. Envy is pain at the sight of such good fortune as consists of the good things already mentioned; we feel it towards our equals; not with the idea of getting something for ourselves, but because the other people have it. We shall feel it if we have, or think we have, equals; and by equals I mean equals in birth, relationship, age, disposition, distinction, or wealth. We feel envy also if we fall but a little short of having everything; which is why people in high place and prosperity feel itthey think everyone else is taking what belongs to themselves. Also if we are exceptionally distinguished for some particular thing, and especially if that thing is wisdom or good fortune. Ambitious men are more envious than those who are not. So also those who profess wisdom; they are ambitious to be thought wise. Indeed, generally, those who aim at a reputation for anything are envious on this particular point. And small-minded men are envious, for everything seems great to them. The good things which excite envy have already been mentioned. The deeds or possessions which arouse the love of reputation and honour and the desire for fame, and the various gifts of fortune, are almost all subject to envy; and particularly if we desire the thing ourselves, or think we are entitled to it, or if possession of it puts us a little above others, or a little below them. It is clear also what kind of people we envy; that was included in what has been said already; we envy those who are near us in time, place, age, or reputation. [[Hence the line:

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Also our fellow-competitors, who are indeed the people just mentionedwe do not compete with men who lived a hundred centuries ago, or those not yet born, or those who dwell near the Pillars of Hercules, or those whom, in our opinion or that of others, we take to be far below us or far above us. So too we compete with those who follow the same ends as ourselves: we compete with our rivals in sport or in love, and generally with those who are after the same things; and it is therefore these whom we are bound to envy beyond all others. Hence the saying, Potter against potter. We also envy those whose possession of or success in a thing is a reproach to us: these are our neighbours and equals; for it is clear that it is our own fault we have missed the good thing in question; this annoys us, and excites envy in us. We also envy those who have what we ought to have, or have got what we did have once. Hence old men envy younger men, and those who have spent much envy those who have spent little on the same thing. And men who have not got a thing, or not got it yet, envy those who have got it quickly. We can also see what things and what persons give pleasure to envious people, and in what states of mind they feel it: the states of mind in which they feel pain are those under which they will feel pleasure in the contrary things. If therefore we ourselves with whom the decision rests are put into an envious state of mind, and those for whom our pity, or the award of something desirable, is claimed are such as have been described, it is obvious that they will win no pity from us.
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11 We will next consider emulation, showing in what follows its causes and objects, and the state of mind in which it is felt. Emulation is pain caused by seeing the presence, in persons whose nature is like our own, of good things that are highly valued and are possible for ourselves to acquire; but it is felt not because others have these goods, but because we have not got them ourselves. It is therefore a good feeling felt by good persons, whereas envy is a bad feeling felt by bad persons. Emulation makes us take steps to secure the good things in question, envy makes us take steps to stop our neighbour having them. Emulation must therefore tend to be felt by persons who believe themselves to deserve certain good things that they have not got. [[For no one aspires to things which appear impossible.]]66 It is accordingly felt by the young and by persons of lofty disposition. Also by those who possess such good things as are deserved by men
Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself. The quoted line is Aeschylus, frag. 305 Nauck. 66 Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.
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held in honourthese are wealth, abundance of friends, public ofce, and the like; on the assumption that they ought to be good men, they are emulous to gain such goods as ought, in their belief, to belong to men whose state of mind is good. Also by those whom all others think deserving. We also feel it about anything for which our ancestors, relatives, personal friends, race, or country are specially honoured, looking upon that thing as really our own, and therefore feeling that we deserve to have it. Further, since all good things that are highly honoured are objects of emulation, excellence in its various forms must be such an object, and also all those good things that are useful and serviceable to others: for men honour those who are good, and also those who do them service. So with those good things our possession of which can give enjoyment to our neighbourswealth and beauty rather than health. We can see, too, what persons are the objects of the feeling. They are those who have these and similar thingsthose already mentioned, as courage, wisdom, public ofce. Holders of public ofcegenerals, orators, and all who possess such powerscan do many people a good turn. Also those whom many people wish to be like; those who have many acquaintances or friends; those whom many admire, or whom we ourselves admire; and those who have been praised and eulogized by poets or prose-writers. Persons of the contrary sort are objects of contempt: for the feeling and notion of contempt are opposite to those of emulation. Those who are such as to emulate or be emulated by others are inevitably disposed to be contemptuous of all such persons as are subject to those bad things which are contrary to the good things that are the objects of emulation, despising them for just that reason. Hence we often despise the fortunate, when luck comes to them without their having those good things which are held in honour. This completes our discussion of the means by which the several emotions may be produced or dissipated, and upon which depend the persuasive arguments connected with the emotions. 12 Let us now consider the various types of human character, in relation to the emotions, states of character, ages and fortunes. By emotions I mean anger, desire, and the like; these we have discussed already. By states of character I mean excellences and vices; these also have been discussed already, as well as the various things that various types of men tend to choose and to do. By ages I mean youth, the prime of life, and old age. By fortune I mean birth, wealth, power, and their oppositesin fact, good fortune and ill fortune. To begin with the youthful type of character. Young men have strong passions, and tend to gratify them indiscriminately. Of the bodily desires, it is the sexual

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by which they are most swayed and in which they show absence of self-control. They are changeable and ckle in their desires, which are violent while they last, but quickly over: their impulses are keen but not deep-rooted, and are like sick peoples attacks of hunger and thirst. They are hot-tempered and quick-tempered, and apt to give way to their anger; bad temper often gets the better of them, for owing to their love of honour they cannot bear being slighted, and are indignant if they imagine themselves unfairly treated. While they love honour, they love victory still more; for youth is eager for superiority over others, and victory is one form of this. They love both more than they love money, which indeed they love very little, not having yet learnt what it means to be without itthis is the point of Pittacus remark about Amphiaraus. They look at the good side rather than the bad, not having yet witnessed many instances of wickedness. They trust others readily, because they have not yet often been cheated. They are sanguine; nature warms their blood as though with excess of wine; and besides that, they have as yet met with few disappointments. Their lives are mainly spent not in memory but in expectation; for expectation refers to the future, memory to the past, and youth has a long future before it and a short past behind it: on the rst day of ones life one has nothing at all to remember, and can only look forward. They are easily cheated, owing to the sanguine disposition just mentioned. Their hot tempers and hopeful dispositions make them more courageous than older men are; the hot temper prevents fear, and the hopeful disposition creates condence; we cannot feel fear so long as we are feeling angry, and any expectation of good makes us condent. They are shy, accepting the rules of society in which they have been trained, and not yet believing in any other standard of honour. They have exalted notions, because they have not yet been humbled by life or learnt its necessary limitations; moreover, their hopeful disposition makes them think themselves equal to great thingsand that means having exalted notions. They would always rather do noble deeds than useful ones: their lives are regulated more by their character than by reasoning; and whereas reasoning leads us to choose what is useful, excellence leads us to choose what is noble. They are fonder of their friends and companions than older men are, because they like spending their days in the company of others, and have not yet come to value either their friends or anything else by their usefulness to themselves. All their mistakes are in the direction of doing things excessively and vehemently. They disobey Chilons precept by overdoing everything; they love too much and hate too much, and the same with everything else. They think they know everything, and are always quite sure about it; this, in fact, is why they overdo everything. If they do wrong to others, it is because they mean to insult them, not to do them

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actual harm. They are ready to pity others, because they think everyone an honest man, or anyhow better than he is: they judge their neighbour by their own harmless natures, and so cannot think he deserves to be treated in that way. They are fond of fun and therefore witty, wit being well-bred insolence. 13 Such, then, is the character of the young. The character of elderly menmen who are past their primemay be said to be formed for the most part of elements that are the contrary of all these. They have lived many years; they have often been taken in, and often made mistakes; and life on the whole is a bad business. The result is that they are sure about nothing and under-do everything. They think, but they never know; and because of their hesitation they always add a possibly or a perhaps, putting everything this way and nothing positively. They are cynical; that is, they tend to put the worse construction on everything. Further, their experience makes them distrustful and therefore suspicious of evil. Consequently they neither love warmly nor hate bitterly, but following the hint of Bias they love as though they will some day hate and hate as though they will some day love. They are small-minded, because they have been humbled by life: their desires are set upon nothing more exalted or unusual than what will help them to keep alive. They are not generous, because money is one of the things they must have, and at the same time their experience has taught them how hard it is to get and how easy to lose. They are cowardly, and are always anticipating danger; unlike that of the young, who are warm-blooded, their temperament is chilly; old age has paved the way for cowardice; fear is, in fact, a form of chill. They love life; and all the more when their last day has come, because the object of all desire is something we have not got, and also because we desire most strongly that which we need most urgently. They are too fond of themselves; this is one form that small-mindedness takes. Because of this, they guide their lives too much by considerations of what is useful and too little by what is noblefor the useful is what is good for oneself, and the noble what is good absolutely. They are not shy, but shameless rather; caring less for what is noble than for what is useful, they feel contempt for what people may think of them. They lack condence in the future; partly through experiencefor most things go wrong, or anyhow turn out worse than one expects; and partly because of their cowardice. They live by memory rather than by hope; for what is left to them of life is but little as compared with the long past; and hope is of the future, memory of the past. This, again, is the cause of their loquacity; they are continually talking of the past, because they enjoy remembering it. Their ts of anger are sudden but feeble. Their sensual passions have either altogether gone or have lost their vigour: consequently they
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do not feel their passions much, and their actions are inspired less by what they do feel than by the love of gain. Hence men at this time of life are often supposed to have a self-controlled character; the fact is that their passions have slackened, and they are slaves to the love of gain. They guide their lives by reasoning more than by character; reasoning being directed to utility and character to excellence. If they wrong others, they mean to injure them, not to insult them. Old men may feel pity, as well as young men, but not for the same reason. Young men feel it out of kindness; old men out of weakness, imagining that anything that befalls anyone else might easily happen to them, which, as we saw, is a thought that excites pity. Hence they are querulous, and not disposed to jesting or laughterthe love of laughter being the very opposite of querulousness. Such are the characters of young men and elderly men. People always think well of speeches adapted to, and reecting, their own character: and we can now see how to compose our speeches so as to adapt both them and ourselves to our audiences. 14 As for men in their prime, clearly we shall nd that they have a character between that of the young and that of the old, free from the extremes of either. They have neither that excess of condence which amounts to rashness, nor too much timidity, but the right amount of each. They neither trust everybody nor distrust everybody, but judge people correctly. Their lives will be guided not by the sole consideration either of what is noble or of what is useful, but by both; neither by parsimony nor by prodigality, but by what is t and proper. So, too, in regard to anger and desire; they will be brave as well as temperate, and temperate as well as brave; these virtues are divided between the young and the old; the young are brave but intemperate, the old temperate but cowardly. To put it generally, all the valuable qualities that youth and age divide between them are united in the prime of life, while all their excesses or defects are replaced by moderation and tness. The body is in its prime from thirty to thirty-ve; the mind about forty-nine. 15 So much for the types of character that distinguish youth, old age, and the prime of life. We will not turn to those gifts of fortune by which human character is affected. First let us consider good birth. Its effect on character is to make those who have it more ambitious; it is the way of all men who have something to start with to add to the pile, and good birth implies ancestral distinction. The well-born man will look down even on those who are as good as his own ancestors, because any far-off distinction is greater than the same thing close to us, and better to boast about. Being well-born, which means coming of a ne stock, must

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be distinguished from nobility, which means being true to the family naturea quality not usually found in the well-born, most of whom are poor creatures. In the generations of men as in the fruits of the earth, there is a varying yield; now and then, where the stock is good, exceptional men are produced for a while, and then decadence sets in. A clever stock will degenerate towards the insane type of character, like the descendants of Alcibiades or of the elder Dionysius; a steady stock towards the fatuous and torpid type, like the descendants of Cimon, Pericles, and Socrates. 16 The type of character produced by wealth lies on the surface for all to see. Wealthy men are insolent and arrogant; their possession of wealth affects their understanding; they feel as if they had every good thing that exists; wealth becomes a sort of standard of value for everything else, and therefore they imagine there is nothing it cannot buy. They are luxurious and ostentatious; luxurious, because of the luxury in which they live and the prosperity which they display; ostentatious and vulgar, because, like other peoples, their minds are regularly occupied with the object of their love and admiration, and also because they think that other peoples idea of happiness is the same as their own. It is indeed quite natural that they should be affected thus; for if you have money, there are always plenty of people who come begging from you. Hence the saying of Simonides about wise men and rich men, in answer to Hieros wife, who asked him whether it was better to grow rich or wise. Why, rich, he said; for I see the wise men spending their days at the rich mens doors. Rich men also consider themselves worthy to hold public ofce; for they consider they already have the things that give a claim to ofce. In a word, the type of character produced by wealth is that of a prosperous fool. There is indeed one difference between the type of the newly-enriched and those who have long been rich: the newly-enriched have all the bad qualities mentioned in an exaggerated and worse formto be newlyenriched means, so to speak, no education in riches. The wrongs they do others are not meant to injure their victims, but spring from insolence or self-indulgence, e.g. those that end in assault or in adultery. 17 As to power, here too it may fairly be said that the type of character it produces is mostly obvious enough. Some elements in this type it shares with the wealthy type, others are better. Those in power are more ambitious and more manly in character than the wealthy, because they aspire to do the great deeds that their power permits them to do. Responsibility makes them more serious: they have to keep paying attention to the duties their position involves. They are
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dignied rather than arrogant, for the respect in which they are held inspires them with dignity and therefore with moderationdignity being a mild and becoming form of arrogance. If they wrong others, they wrong them not on a small but on a great scale. Good fortune in certain of its branches produces the types of character belonging to the conditions just described, since these conditions are in fact more or less the kinds of good fortune that are regarded as most important. It may be added that good fortune leads us to gain all we can in the way of family happiness and bodily advantages. It does indeed make men more supercilious and more reckless; but there is one excellent quality that goes with itpiety, and respect for the divine power, in which they believe because of events which are really the result of chance. This account of the types of character that correspond to differences of age or fortune may end here; for to arrive at the opposite types to those described, namely, those of the poor, the unfortunate, and the powerless, we have only to ask what the opposite qualities are. 18 [[The use of persuasive speech is to lead to decisions. (When we know a thing, and have decided about it, there is no further use in speaking about it.) This is so even if one is addressing a single person and urging him to do or not to do something, as when we advise a man about his conduct or try to change his views: the single person is as much your judge as if he were one of many; we may say, without qualication, that anyone is your judge whom you have to persuade. Nor does it matter whether we are arguing against an actual opponent or against a mere proposition; in the latter case we still have to use speech and overthrow the opposing arguments, and we attack these as we should attack an actual opponent. Our principle holds good of epideictic speeches also; the audience for whom such a speech is put together is treated as the judge of it. Nevertheless, the only sort of person who can strictly be called a judge is the man who decides the issue in some matter of public controversy; for the issue concerns the facts under dispute or subject to deliberation.]]67 In the section on political oratory an account has already been given of the types of character that mark the different constitutions. The manner and means of investing speeches with moral character may now be regarded as fully set forth. Each of the main divisions of oratory has, we have seen, its own distinct goal. With regard to each division, we have noted the accepted views and propositions
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Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.

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upon which we may base our argumentsfor deliberative, for epideictic, and for forensic speaking. We have further determined completely by what means speeches may be invested with the required character. We are now to proceed to discuss the arguments common to all oratory. All orators are bound to use the topic of the possible and impossible; and to try to show that a thing has happened, or will happen in the future. Again, the topic of size is common to all oratory; all of us have to argue that things are bigger or smaller than they seem, whether we are making deliberative speeches, speeches of eulogy or attack, or prosecuting or defending in the law-courts. Having analysed these subjects, we will try to say what we can about the general principles of arguing by enthymeme and example, by the addition of which we may hope to complete the project with which we set out. Of the above-mentioned commonplaces, that concerned with amplication isas has been already saidmost appropriate to epideictic speeches; that concerned with the past, to forensic speeches, where the required decision is always about the past; that concerned with possibility and the future, to deliberative speeches. 19 Let us rst speak of the possible and impossible. It would seem to be the case that if it is possible for one of a pair of contraries to be or happen, then it is possible for the other: e.g. if a man can be cured, he can also fall ill; for any two contraries are equally possible, in so far as they are contraries. That if of two similar things one is possible, so is the other. That if the harder of two things is possible, so is the easier. That if a thing can come into existence in a good and beautiful form, then it can come into existence generally; thus a house can exist more easily than a beautiful house. That if the beginning of a thing can occur, so can the end; for nothing impossible occurs or begins to occur; thus the commensurability of the diagonal of a square with its side neither occurs nor can begin to occur. That if the end is possible, so is the beginning; for all things that occur have a beginning. That if that which is posterior in essence or in order of generation can come into being, so can that which is prior: thus if a man can come into being, so can a boy, since the boy comes rst in order of generation; and if a boy can, so can a man, for the man also is rst. That those things are possible of which the love or desire is natural; for no one, as a rule, loves or desires impossibilities. That things which are the object of any kind of science or art are possible and exist or come into existence. That anything is possible the rst step in whose production depends on men or things which we can compel or persuade to produce it, by our greater strength, our control of them, or our friendship with them. That where the parts are possible, the whole is possible;
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and where the whole is possible, the parts are usually possible. For if the slit in front, the toe-piece, and the upper leather can be made, then shoes can be made; and if shoes, then also the front slit and the toe-piece. That if a whole genus is a thing that can occur, so can the species; and if the species can occur, so can the genus: thus, if a sailing vessel can be made, so also can a trireme; and if a trireme, then a sailing vessel also. That if one of two things whose existence depends on each other is possible, so is the other; for instance, if double, then half, and if half, then double. That if a thing can be produced without art or preparation, it can be produced still more certainly by the careful application of art to it. Hence Agathon has said: To some things we by art must needs attain, Others by destiny or luck we gain.68 That if anything is possible to inferior, weaker, and stupider people, it is more so for their opposites; thus Isocrates said that it would be a strange thing if he could not discover a thing that Euthynus had found out. As for impossibility, we can clearly get what we want by taking the contraries of the arguments stated above. Questions of past fact may be looked at in the following ways. First, that if the less likely of two things has occurred, the more likely must have occurred also. That if one thing that usually follows another has happened, then that other thing has happened; that, for instance, if a man has forgotten a thing, he has also once learnt it. That if a man had the power and the wish to do a thing, he has done it; for every one does do whatever he wants to do whenever he can do it, there being nothing to stop him. That, further, he has done the thing in question either if he intended it and nothing external prevented him; or if he had the power to do it and was angry at the time; or if he had the power to do it and his heart was set upon itfor people, as a rule do what they long to do, if they can; bad people through lack of self-control; good people, because their hearts are set upon good things. Again, that if a thing was going to happen, it has happened; if a man was going to do something, he has done it, for it is likely that the intention was carried out. That if one thing has happened which naturally happens before another or with a view to it, the other has happened; for instance, if it has lightened, it has also thundered; and if an action has been attempted, it has been done. That if one thing has happened which naturally happens after another, or with a view to which that other happens, then that other (that which happens rst, or happens with a view to
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Frag. 8 Nauck.

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this thing) has also happened; thus, if it has thundered it has also lightened, and if an action has been done it has been attempted. Of all these sequences some are inevitable and some merely usual. The arguments for the non-occurrence of anything can obviously be found by considering the opposites of those that have been mentioned. How questions of future fact should be argued is clear from the same considerations: that a thing will be done if there is both the power and the wish to do it; or if along with the power to do it there is a craving for the result, or anger, or calculation, prompting it. That the thing will be done, in these cases,69 if the man is actually setting about it, or even if he means to do it laterfor usually what we mean to do happens rather than what we do not mean to do. That a thing will happen if another thing which naturally happens before it has already happened; thus, if it is clouding over, it is likely to rain. That if the means to an end have occurred, then the end is likely to occur; thus, if there is a foundation, there will be a house. For arguments about the greatness and smallness of things, the greater and the lesser, and generally great things and small, what we have already said will show the line to take. In discussing deliberative oratory we have spoken about the relative greatness of various goods, and about the greater and lesser in general. Since therefore in each type of oratory the object under discussion is some kind of goodwhether it is utility, nobleness, or justiceit is clear that every orator must obtain the materials of amplication through these channels. To go further than this, and try to establish abstract laws of greatness and superiority, is to argue without an object; in practical life, particular facts count more than generalizations. Enough has now been said about these questions of possibility and the reverse, of past or future fact, and of the relative greatness or smallness of things. 20 The special forms of oratorical argument having now been discussed, we have next to treat of those which are common to all kinds of oratory. These are of two main kinds, example and enthymeme; for a maxim is part of an enthymeme. We will rst treat of argument by example, for it has the nature of induction, which is the foundation of reasoning. This form of argument has two varieties; one consisting in the mention of actual past facts, the other in the invention of facts by the speaker. Of the latter, again, there are two varieties, the illustrative parallel and the fable (e.g. the fables of Aesop, or those from Libya). As an instance of
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the mention of actual facts, take the following. The speaker may argue thus: We must prepare for war against the king of Persia and not let him subdue Egypt. For Darius of old did not cross the Aegean until he had seized Egypt; but once he had seized it, he did cross. And Xerxes, again, did not attack us until he had seized Egypt; but once he had seized it, he did cross. If therefore the present king seizes Egypt, he also will cross, and therefore we must not let him. The illustrative parallel is the sort of argument Socrates used: e.g. Public ofcials ought not to be selected by lot. That is like using the lot to select athletes, instead of choosing those who are t for the contest; or using the lot to select a steersman from among a ships crew, as if we ought to take the man on whom the lot falls, and not the man who knows most about it. Instances of the fable are that of Stesichorus about Phalaris, and that of Aesop in defence of the popular leader. When the people of Himera had made Phalaris military dictator, and were going to give him a bodyguard, Stesichorus wound up a long talk by telling them the fable of the horse who had a eld all to himself. Presently there came a stag and began to spoil his pasturage. The horse, wishing to revenge himself on the stag, asked a man if he could help him to do so. The man said, Yes, if you will let me bridle you and get on to your back with javelins in my hand. The horse agreed, and the man mounted; but instead of getting his revenge on the stag, the horse found himself the slave of the man. You too, said Stesichorus, take care lest, in your desire for revenge on your enemies, you meet the same fate as the horse. By making Phalaris military dictator, you have already let yourselves be bridled. If you let him get on to your backs by giving him a bodyguard, from that moment you will be his slaves. Aesop, defending before the assembly at Samos a popular leader who was being tried for his life, told this story: A fox, in crossing a river, was swept into a hole in the rocks; and, not being able to get out, suffered miseries for a long time through the swarms of eas that fastened on her. A hedgehog, while roaming around, noticed the fox; and feeling sorry for her asked if he might remove the eas. But the fox declined the offer; and when the hedgehog asked why, she replied, These eas are by this time full of me and not sucking much blood; if you take them away, others will come with fresh appetites and drink up all the blood I have left. So, men of Samos, said Aesop, my client will do you no further harm; he is wealthy already. But if you put him to death, others will come along who are not rich, and their peculations will empty your treasury completely. Fables are suitable for addresses to popular assemblies; and they have one advantagethey are comparatively easy to invent, whereas it is hard to nd parallels among actual past events. You will in fact frame them just as you frame

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illustrative parallels: all you require is the power of thinking out your analogy, a power developed by intellectual training. But while it is easier to supply parallels by inventing fables, it is more valuable for the political speaker to supply them by quoting what has actually happened, since in most respects the future will be like what the past has been. Where we are unable to argue by enthymeme, we must try to demonstrate our point by this method of example, and to convince our hearers thereby. If we can argue by enthymeme, we should use our examples as subsequent supplementary evidence. They should not precede the enthymemes: that will give the argument an inductive air, which only rarely suits the conditions of speech-making. If they follow the enthymemes, they have the effect of witnesses giving evidence, and this always tells. For the same reason, if you put your examples rst you must give a large number of them; if you put them last, a single one is sufcient; even a single witness will serve if he is a good one. It has now been stated how many varieties of argument by example there are, and how and when they are to be employed. 21 We now turn to the use of maxims, in order to see upon what subjects and occasions, and for what kind of speaker, they will appropriately form part of a speech. This will appear most clearly when we have dened a maxim. It is a statement; not about a particular fact, such as the character of Iphicrates, but of a general kind; nor is it about any and every subjecte.g. straight is the contrary of curved is not a maximbut only about questions of practical conduct, courses of conduct to be chosen or avoided. Now an enthymeme is a deduction dealing with such practical subjects. It is therefore roughly true that the premisses or conclusions of enthymemes, considered apart from the rest of the argument, are maxims: e.g. Never should any man whose wits are sound Have his sons taught more wisdom than their fellows. Here we have a maxim; add the reason or explanation, and the whole thing is an enthymeme; thus It makes them idle; and therewith they earn Ill-will and jealousy throughout the city.70 Again,
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Euripides, Medea 294-7.

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are maxims; but the latter, taken with what follows it, is an enthymeme For all are slaves of money or of chance.72 From this denition of a maxim it follows that there are four kinds of maxims. In the rst place, the maxim may or may not have a supplement. Proof is needed where the statement is paradoxical or disputable; no supplement is wanted where the statement contains nothing paradoxical, either because the view expressed is already a known truth, e.g. Chiefest of blessings is health for a man, as it seemeth to me,73 this being the general opinion; or because, as soon as the view is stated, it is clear at a glance, e.g. No love is true save that which loves for ever.74 Of the maxims that do have a supplement attached, some are part of an enthymeme, e.g. Never should any man whose wits are sound, Others have the essential character of enthymemes, but are not stated as parts of enthymemes; these latter are reckoned the best; they are those in which the reason for the view expressed is simply implied, e.g. O mortal man, nurse not immortal wrath.75 To say it is not right to nurse immortal wrath is a maxim; the added words O mortal man give the reason. Similarly, with the words
71 72

id., frag. 661 Nauck. id., Hecuba 864-5. 73 Epicharmus, frag. 19 Diels-Kranz. 74 Euripides, Troades 1051. 75 Frag. adesp. 79 Nauck.

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What has been said has shown us how many kinds of maxim there are, and to what subjects the various kinds are appropriate. They must not be given without supplement if they express disputed or paradoxical views: we must, in that case, either put the supplement rst and make a maxim of the conclusion, e.g. you might say, For my part, since both unpopularity and idleness are undesirable, I hold that it is better not to be educated; or you may say this rst, and then add the previous clause. Where a statement, without being paradoxical, is not obviously true, the reason should be added as concisely as possible. In such cases both laconic and enigmatic sayings are suitable: thus one might say what Stesichorus said to the Locrians, Insolence is better avoided, lest the cicadas chirp on the ground. The use of maxims is appropriate only to elderly men, and in handling subjects in which the speaker is experienced. For a young man to use them islike telling storiesunbecoming; to use them in handling things in which one has no experience is silly and ill-bred: a fact sufciently proved by the special fondness of country fellows for coining maxims, and their readiness to air them. To declare a thing to be universally true when it is not is most appropriate when working up feelings of horror and indignation in our hearers; especially by way of preface, or after the facts have been proved. Even hackneyed and commonplace maxims are to be used, if they suit ones purpose: just because they are commonplace, everyone seems to agree with them, and therefore they are taken for truth. Thus, anyone who is calling on his men to risk an engagement without obtaining favourable omens may quote: One omen of all is best, that we ght for our fatherland.77 Or, if he is calling on them to attack a stronger force The War-God showeth no favour.78 Or, if he is urging people to destroy the innocent children of their enemies Fool, who slayeth the father and leaveth his sons to avenge him.
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Some proverbs are also maxims, e.g. An Attic neighbour. You are not to avoid uttering maxims that contradict such sayings as have become public property (I mean such sayings as know thyself and nothing in excess), if doing so will raise your hearers opinion of your character, or convey an effect of strong emotione.g. an angry speaker might well say, It is not true that we ought to know ourselves: anyhow, if this man had known himself, he would never have thought himself t for an army command. It will raise peoples opinion of our character to say, for instance, We ought not to follow the saying that bids us treat our friends as future enemies: much better to treat our enemies as future friends. Our choice should be implied partly by the very wording of our maxim. Failing this, we should add our reason: e.g. having said We should treat our friends, not as the saying advises, but as if they were going to be our friends always, we should add for the other behaviour is that of a traitor: or we might put it, I disapprove of that saying. A true friend will treat his friend as if he were going to be his friend for ever; and again, Nor do I approve of the saying nothing in excess: we are bound to hate bad men excessively. One great advantage of maxims to a speaker is due to the want of intelligence in his hearers, who love to hear him succeed in expressing as a universal truth the opinions which they hold themselves about particular cases. I will explain what I mean by this, indicating at the same time how we are to hunt down the maxims required. The maxim, as has been already said, is a general statement, and people love to hear stated in general terms what they already believe in some particular connexion: e.g. if a man happens to have bad neighbours or bad children, he will agree with any one who tells him, Nothing is more annoying than having neighbours, or Nothing is more foolish than to be the parent of children. The orator has therefore to guess the subjects on which his hearers really hold views already, and what those views are, and then must express, as general truths, these same views on these same subjects. This is one advantage of using maxims. There is another which is more importantit invests a speech with character. There is character in every speech in which the choice is conspicuous; and maxims always produce this effect, because the utterance of them amounts to a general declaration of what should be chosen; so that, if the maxims are sound, they display the speaker as a man of sound character. So much for the maximits nature, varieties, proper use, and advantages. 22 We now come to the enthymemes, and will begin the subject with some general consideration of the proper way of looking for them, and then proceed to what is a distinct question, the commonplaces to be embodied in them. It has

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already been pointed out that the enthymeme is a deduction, and in what sense it is so. We have also noted the differences between it and the deduction of dialectic. Thus we must not carry its reasoning too far back, or the length of our argument will cause obscurity; nor must we put in all the steps that lead to our conclusion, or we shall waste words in saying what is manifest. It is this simplicity that makes the uneducated more effective than the educated when addressing popular audiencesmakes them, as the poets79 tell us, charm the crowds ears more nely. Educated men lay down broad general principles; uneducated men argue from common knowledge and draw obvious conclusions. We must not, therefore, start from any and every opinion, but only from those of denite groups of peopleour judges or those whose authority they recognize; and there must, moreover, be no doubt in the minds of most, if not all, of our judges that the opinions put forward really are of this sort. We should also base our arguments upon what happens for the most part as well as upon what necessarily happens. The rst thing we have to remember is this. Whether our argument is made in a political gathering or in one of any other sort, we must know some, if not all, of the facts about the subject on which we are to speak and argue. Otherwise we can have no materials out of which to construct arguments. I mean, for instance, how could we advise the Athenians whether they should go to war or not, if we did not know their strength, whether it was naval or military or both, and how great it is; what their revenues amount to; who their friends and enemies are; what wars, too, they have waged, and with what success; and so on? Or how could we eulogize them if we knew nothing about the sea-ght at Salamis, or the battle of Marathon, or what they did for the Heracleidae, or any other facts like that? All eulogy is based upon the noble deedsreal or imaginarythat stand to the credit of those eulogized. On the same principle, invectives are based on facts of the opposite kind: the orator looks to see what base deedsreal or imaginary -stand to the discredit of those he is attacking, such as treachery to the cause of Hellenic freedom, or the enslavement of their gallant allies against the barbarians (Aegina, Potidaea), or any other misdeeds of this kind that are recorded against them. So, too, in a court of law: whether we are prosecuting or defending, we must pay attention to the existing facts of the case. It makes no difference whether the subject is the Lacedaemonians or the Athenians, a man or a god; we must do the same thing. Suppose it to be Achilles whom we are to advise, to praise or blame, to accuse or defend; here too we must take the facts, real or imaginary; these must be our material, whether we are to praise or blame him for the noble
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Cf. Euripides, Hippolytus 989.

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or base deeds he has done, to accuse or defend him for his just or unjust treatment of others, or to advise him about what is or is not to his interest. The same thing applies to any subject whatever. Thus, in handling the question whether justice is or is not a good, we must start with the real facts about justice and goodness. We see, then, that this is the only way in which any one ever proves anything, whether his arguments are strictly cogent or not: not all facts can form his basis, but only those that bear on the matter in hand: nor, plainly, can proof be effected otherwise by means of the speech. Consequently, as appears in the Topics, we must rst of all have by us a selection of arguments about questions that may arise and are suitable for us to handle; and then we must try to think out arguments of the same type for special needs as they emerge; not vaguely and indenitely, but by keeping our eyes on the actual facts of the subject we have to speak on, and gathering in as many of them as we can that bear closely upon it; for the more actual facts we have at our command, the more easily we prove our case; and the more closely they bear on the subject, the more they will seem to belong to that speech only instead of being common. By common I mean, for example, eulogy of Achilles because he is a human being or a demi-god, or because he joined the expedition against Troy: these things are true of many others, so that this kind of eulogy applies no better to Achilles than to Diomede. The special facts are those that are true of Achilles alone; such facts as that he slew Hector, the bravest of the Trojans, and Cycnus the invulnerable, who prevented all the Greeks from landing, and again that he was the youngest man who joined the expedition, and was not bound by oath to join it, and so on. Here, then, we have our rst principle of selection of enthymemesthat which refers to the commonplaces. We will now consider the elements of enthymemes. (By an element of an enthymeme I mean the same thing as a commonplace.) We will begin, as we must begin, by observing that there are two kinds of enthymemes. One kind proves some afrmative or negative proposition; the other kind disproves one. The difference between the two kinds is the same as that between refutation and deduction in dialectic. The probative enthymeme makes an inference from what is accepted, the refutative makes an inference to what is unaccepted. We may now be said to have in our hands the commonplaces for the various special subjects that it is useful or necessary to handle, having selected the propositions suitable in various cases. We have, in fact, already ascertained the commonplaces applicable to enthymemes about good and evil, the noble and the base, justice and injustice, and also to those about types of character, emotions, and states of mind. Let us now lay hold of certain facts about the whole subject,

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considered from a different and more general point of view. In the course of our discussion we will take note of refutative and demonstrative commonplaces, and also of those used in what seem to be enthymemes, but are not, since they are not deductions at all. Having made all this clear, we will proceed to classify objections and refutations, showing how they can be brought to bear upon enthymemes. 23 One probative commonplace is based upon consideration of the opposite of the thing in question. Observe whether that opposite has the opposite quality. If it has not, you refute the original proposition; if it has, you establish it. E.g. Temperance is benecial; for licentiousness is hurtful. Or, as in the Messenian speech, If war is the cause of our present troubles, peace is what we need to put things right again.80 Or For if not even evil-doers should Anger us if they meant not what they did, Then can we owe no gratitude to such As were constrained to do the good they did us.81 Or Since in this world liars may win belief, Be sure of the opposite likewisethat this world Hears many a true word and believes it not.82 Another commonplace is got by considering some modication of the keyword, and arguing that what can or cannot be said of the one, can or cannot be said of the other: e.g. just does not always means benecial, or justly would always mean benecially, whereas it is not desirable to be justly put to death. Another is based upon correlative ideas. If it is true that one man gave noble or just treatment to another, you argue that the other must have received noble or just treatment; or that where it is right to command obedience, it must have been right to obey the command. Thus Diomedon, the tax-farmer, said of the taxes: If it is no disgrace for you to sell them, it is no disgrace for us to buy them. Further, if well or justly is true of the person to whom a thing is done, you argue that it is true of the doer. But it is possible to draw a false conclusion here. It may be just that he should be treated in a certain way, and yet not just that he should
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Alcidamas, frag. 2. Frag. adesp. 80 Nauck. 82 Euripides, frag. 396 Nauck.

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be so treated by you. Hence you must ask yourself two distinct questions: Is it right that he should be thus treated? Is it right that you should thus treat him? and apply your results in whichever way is suitable. Sometimes in such a case the two answers differ: you may quite easily have a position like that in the Alcmaeon of Theodectes: And was there none to loathe thy mothers crime? to which question Alcmaeon in reply says, Why, there are two things to examine here. And when Alphesiboea asks what he means, he rejoins: They judged her t to die, not me to slay her. [[Again there is the lawsuit about Demosthenes and the men who killed Nicanor; as they were judged to have killed him justly, it was thought that he was killed justly. And in the case of the man who was killed at Thebes, the judges were requested to decide whether it was unjust that he should be killed, since if it was not, it was argued that it could not have been unjust to kill him.]]83 Another is the a fortiori. Thus it may be argued that if even the gods are not omniscient, certainly human beings are not. The principle here is that, if a quality does not in fact exist where it is more likely to exist, it clearly does not exist where it is less likely. Again, the argument that a man who strikes his father also strikes his neighbours follows from the principle that, if the less likely thing is true, the more likely thing is true also; for a man is less likely to strike his father than to strike his neighbours. The argument, then, may run thus. Or it may be urged that, if a thing is not true where it is more likely, or if it is true where it is less likely, etc.according as we have to show that a thing is or is not true. This argument might also be used in a case of parity, as in the lines: Thou hast pity for thy sire, who has lost his sons: Hast none for Oeneus, whose brave son is dead?84 And, again, if Theseus did no wrong, neither did Paris; or if the sons of Tyndareus did no wrong, neither did Paris; or if Hector did well to slay Patroclus, Paris did well to slay Achilles. And if other followers of an art are not bad
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Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself. Frag. adesp. 81 Nauck.

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men, neither are philosophers. And if generals are not bad men because it often happens that they are condemned to death, neither are sophists. And the remark that if each individual among you ought to think of his own citys reputation, you ought all to think of the reputation of Greece as a whole. Another is based on considerations of time. Thus Iphicrates, in the case against Harmodius, said, if before doing the deed I had bargained that, if I did it, I should have a statue, you would have given me one. Will you not give me one now that I have done the deed? You must not make promises when you are expecting a thing to be done for you, and refuse to full them when the thing has been done. And, again, to induce the Thebans to let Philip pass through their territory into Attica, it was argued that if he had insisted on this before he helped them against the Phocians, they would have promised to do it. It is monstrous, therefore, that just because he threw away his advantage then, and trusted their honour, they should not let him pass through now. Another line is to apply to the other speaker what he has said against yourself. It is an excellent turn to give to a debate, as may be seen in the Teucer. It was employed by Iphicrates in his reply to Aristophon. Would you, he asked, take a bribe to betray the eet? No, said Aristophon; and Iphicrates replied, Very good: if you, who are Aristophon, would not betray the eet, would 1, who am Iphicrates? Only, it must be recognized beforehand that the other man is more likely than you are to commit the crime in question. Otherwise you will make yourself ridiculous; if it is Aristeides who is prosecuting, you cannot say that sort of thing to him. The purpose is to discredit the prosecutor, who as a rule would have it appear that his character is better than that of the defendant, a pretension which it is desirable to upset. But the use of such an argument is in all cases ridiculous if you are attacking others for what you do or would do yourself, or are urging others to do what you neither do nor would do yourself. Another is secured by dening your terms. Thus, What is the supernatural? Surely it is either a god or the work of a god. Well, anyone who believes that the work of a god exists, cannot help also believing that gods exist. Or take the argument of Iphicrates, Goodness is true nobility; neither Harmodius nor Aristogeiton had any nobility before they did a noble deed. He also argued that he himself was more akin to Harmodius and Aristogeiton than his opponent was. At any rate, my deeds are more akin to those of Harmodius and Aristogeiton than yours are. Another example may be found in the Alexander. Everyone will agree that by incontinent people we mean those who are not satised with the enjoyment of one body. A further example is to be found in the reason given by Socrates for not going to the court of Archelaus. He said that one is insulted by being

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unable to requite benets, as well as by being unable to requite injuries. All the persons mentioned dene their term and get at its essential meaning, and then use the result when reasoning on the point at issue. Another is founded upon the various senses of a word. Such a word is sharp, as has been explained in the Topics.85 Another line is based upon logical division. Thus, All men do wrong from one of three motives, A, B, or C: in my case A and B are out of the question, and even the accusers do not allege C. Another line is based upon induction. Thus from the case of the woman of Peparethus it might be argued that women everywhere can settle correctly the facts about their children. Another example of this occurred at Athens in the case between the orator Mantias and his son, when the boys mother revealed the true facts: and yet another at Thebes, in the case between Ismenias and Stilbon, when Dodonis proved that it was Ismenias who was the father of her son Thettaliscus, and he was in consequence always regarded as being so. A further instance of induction may be taken from the Law of Theodectes: If we do not hand over our horses to the care of men who have mishandled other peoples horses, nor ships to those who have wrecked other peoples ships, and if this is true of everything else alike, then men who have failed to secure other peoples safety are not to be employed to secure our own. Another instance is the argument of Alcidamas: Everyone honours the wise. Thus the Parians have honoured Archilochus, in spite of his bitter tongue; the Chians Homer, though he was not their countryman; the Mytilenaeans Sappho, though she was a woman; the Lacedaemonians actually made Chilon a member of their senate, though they are the least literary of men; the inhabitants of Lampsacus gave public burial to Anaxagoras, though he was an alien, and honour him even to this day. [[The Athenians became prosperous under Solons laws and the Lacedaemonians under those of Lycurgus, while at Thebes no sooner did the leading men become philosophers than the country began to prosper.]]86 Another is founded upon some decision already pronounced, whether on the same subject or on one like it or contrary to it. Such a proof is most effective if everyone has always decided thus; but if not everyone, then at any rate most people; or if all, or most, wise or good men have thus decided, or the actual judges of the present question, or those whose authority they accept, or anyone whose decision they cannot contradict because he has complete control over them, or those
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See Topics 106a13, etc. Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.

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whom it is not seemly to contradict, as the gods, or ones father, or ones teachers. Thus Autocles said, when attacking Mixidemides, that it was a strange thing that the Dread Goddesses could without loss of dignity submit to the judgement of the Areopagus, and yet Mixidemides could not. Or as Sappho said, Death is an evil thing; the gods have so judged it, or they would die. Or again as Aristippus said in reply to Plato when he spoke somewhat too dogmatically, as Aristippus thought: Well, anyhow, our friend, meaning Socrates, never spoke like that. And Hegesippus, having previously consulted Zeus at Olympia, asked Apollo at Delphi whether his opinion was the same as his fathers, implying that it would be shameful for him to contradict his father. Thus too Isocrates argued that Helen must have been a good woman, because Theseus decided that she was; and Paris a good man, because the goddesses chose him before all others; and Evagoras also, says Isocrates, was good, since when Conon met with his misfortune he betook himself to Evagoras without trying anyone else on the way. Another consists in taking separately the parts of a subject. Such is that given in the Topics:87 What sort of motion is the soul? for it must be this or that. The Socrates of Theodectes provides an example: What temple has he profaned? What gods recognized by the state has he not honoured? Again, since it happens that any given thing usually has both good and bad consequences, another line of argument consists in using those consequences as a reason for urging that a thing should or should not be done, for prosecuting or defending anyone, for eulogy or censure. E.g. education leads both to unpopularity, which is bad, and to wisdom, which is good. Hence you either argue, It is therefore not well to be educated, since it is not well to be unpopular, or you answer, No, it is well to be educated, since it is well to be wise. The Art of Rhetoric of Callippus is made up of this commonplace, with the addition of those of possibility and the others of that kind already described. Another is used when we have to urge or discourage a course of action that may be done in either of two opposite ways, and have to apply the method just mentioned to both. The difference between this one and the last is that, whereas in the last any two things are contrasted, here the things contrasted are opposites. For instance, the priestess enjoined upon her son not to take to public speaking: For, she said, if you say what is right, men will hate you; if you say what is wrong, the gods will hate you. The reply might be, On the contrary, you ought to take to public speaking: for if you say what is right, the gods will love you; if you say what is wrong, men will love you. This amounts to the proverbial buying the
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marsh with the salt. And this is bending backwhen each of two opposites has both a good and a bad consequence opposite respectively to each other. Another is this: the things people approve of openly are not those which they approve of secretly: openly, their chief praise is given to justice and nobleness; but in their hearts they prefer their own advantage. Try, in face of this, to establish the point of view which your opponent has not adopted. This is the most effective of the forms of argument that contradict common opinion. Another line is that of rational correspondence. E.g. Iphicrates, when they were trying to compel his son, a youth under the prescribed age, to perform one of the state duties because he was tall, said If you count tall boys men, you will next be voting short men boys. And Theodectes in his Law said, You make citizens of such mercenaries as Strabax and Charidemus, as a reward of their merits; will you not make exiles of such citizens as those who have done irreparable harm among the mercenaries? Another line is the argument that if two results are the same their antecedents are also the same. For instance, it was a saying of Xenophanes that to assert that the gods had birth is as impious as to say that they die; the consequence of both statements is that there is a time when the gods do not exist. This line of proof assumes generally that the result of any given thing is always the same: e.g. you are going to decide not about Isocrates, but about the value of the whole profession of philosophy. Or, to give earth and water means slavery; or, to share in the Common Peace means obeying orders. We are to make either such assumptions or their opposite, as suits us best. Another is based on the fact that men do not always make the same choice on a later as on an earlier occasion, but reverse their previous choice. E.g. the following enthymeme: When we were exiles, we fought in order to return; now we have returned, it would be strange to choose exile in order not to have to ght. On one occasion, that is, they chose to be true to their homes at the cost of ghting, and on the other to avoid ghting at the cost of deserting their homes. Another is the assertion that some possible motive for an event or state of things is the real one: e.g. that a gift was given in order to cause pain by its withdrawal. This notion underlies the lines: God gives to many great prosperity, Not of good will towards them, but to make The ruin of them more conspicuous.88
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RHETORIC: BOOK II Or take the passage from the Meleager of Antiphon: To slay no boar, but to be witnesses Of Meleagers prowess unto Greece.89

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Or the argument in the Ajax of Theodectes, that Diomede chose out Odysseus not to do him honour, but in order that his companion might be a lesser man than himselfsuch a motive for doing so is quite possible. Another is common to forensic and deliberative oratory, namely, to consider inducements and deterrents, and the motives people have for doing or avoiding the actions in question. These are the conditions which make us bound to act if they are for us, and to refrain from action if they are against us: that is, we are bound to act if the action is possible, easy, and useful to ourselves or our friends or hurtful to our enemies; this is true even if the action entails loss, provided the loss is outweighed by the solid advantage. These same arguments also form the materials for accusation or defencethe deterrents being pointed out by the defence, and the inducements by the prosecution. This topic forms the whole Art of Rhetoric both of Pamphilus and of Callippus. Another refers to things which are supposed to happen and yet seem incredible. We may argue that people could not have believed them, if they had not been true or nearly true. And that they are the more likely to be true because they are incredible; for the things which men believe are either facts or probabilities: if, therefore, a thing that is believed is improbable and incredible, it must be true, since it is certainly not believed because it is at all probable or credible. An example is what Androcles of the deme Pitthus said in his arraignment of the law. The audience tried to shout him down when he observed that the laws required a law to set them right. Why, he went on, sh need salt, improbable and incredible as this might seem for creatures reared in salt water; and olive-cakes need oil, incredible as it is that what produces oil should need it. Another line is to refute our opponents case by noting any disagreements: rst, in the case of our opponent [[if there is any disagreement among all his dates, actions, and statements]],90 e.g. He says he is devoted to you, yet he conspired with the Thirty; secondly, bearing on our own conduct, e.g. He says I am litigious, and yet he cannot prove that I have been engaged in a single lawsuit; thirdly, referring to both of us together, e.g. He has never even lent anyone a penny, but I have ransomed quite a number of you. Another line that is useful for men and causes that have been really or seem89 90

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ingly slandered, is to show why the facts are not as supposed; pointing out that there is a reason for the false impression given. Thus a woman, who had palmed off her son on another woman, was thought to be the lads mistress because she embraced him; but when her action was explained the charge was shown to be groundless. Another example is from the Ajax of Theodectes, where Odysseus tells Ajax the reason why, though he is really braver than Ajax, he is not thought so. Another is to show that if the cause is present, the effect is present, and if absent, absent. For cause and effect go together, and nothing can exist without a cause. Thus Thrasybulus accused Leodamas of having had his name recorded as a criminal on the slab in the Acropolis, and of erasing the record in the time of the Thirty Tyrants: to which Leodamas replied, Impossible: for the Thirty would have trusted me all the more if my quarrel with the commons had been inscribed on the slab. Another line is to consider whether the accused person can take or could have taken a better course than that which he is recommending or taking, or has taken. If so, it is clear that he is not guilty, since no one voluntarily and knowingly chooses what is bad. This argument is, however, fallacious, for it often becomes clear after the event how the action could have been done better, though before the event this was far from clear. Another line is, when a contemplated action is inconsistent with any past action, to examine them both together. Thus, when the people of Elea asked Xenophanes if they should or should not sacrice to Leucothea and mourn for her, he advised them not to mourn for her if they thought her a goddess, and not to sacrice to her if they thought her a mortal woman. Another line is to make previous mistakes the grounds of accusation or defence. Thus, in the Medea of Carcinus the accusers allege that Medea has slain her children; at all events, they say, they are not to be seenMedea having made the mistake of sending her children away. In defence she argues that it is not her children, but Jason, whom she would have slain; for it would have been a mistake on her part not to do this if she had done the other. This enthymematic commonplace and type forms the whole of the Art of Rhetoric in use before Theodorus. Another line is to draw meanings from names. Sophocles, for instance, says, O steel in heart as thou art steel in name.91 This is common in praises of the gods. Thus, too, Conon called Thrasybulus rash in counsel. And Herodicus said of Thrasymachus, You are always bold in
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battle; of Polus, you are always a colt; and of the legislator Draco that his laws were those not of a human being but of a dragon, so savage were they. And, in Euripides, Hecuba says of Aphrodite, Her name and Follys rightly begin alike,92 and Chaeremon writes: Pentheusa name foreshadowing grief to come.93 The refutative enthymeme has a greater reputation than the demonstrative, because within a small space it works out two opposing arguments, and arguments put side by side are clearer to the audience. But of all deductions, whether refutative or demonstrative, those are most applauded of which we foresee the conclusions from the beginning, so long as they are not obvious at rst sightfor part of the pleasure we feel is at our own intelligent anticipation; or those which we follow well enough to see the point of them as soon as the last word has been uttered. 24 Besides genuine deductions there may be deductions that look genuine but are not; and since an enthymeme is a deduction of a particular kind, it follows that, besides genuine enthymemes, there may be those that look genuine but are not. Among the commonplaces that form the spurious enthymeme the rst is that which arises from the particular words employed. One variety of this is whenas in dialectic, without having gone through any reasoning process, we make a nal statement as if it were the conclusion of such a process, Therefore so-and-so is not true, Therefore also so-and-so must be trueso too in enthymemes a compact and antithetical utterance passes for an enthymeme, such language being the proper province of enthymeme, so that it is seemingly the form of wording here that causes the illusion mentioned. In order to produce the effect of genuine reasoning by our form of wording it is useful to summarize the results of a number of previous reasonings: as some he savedothers he avengedthe Greeks he freed. Each of these statements has been previously proved from other facts; but the collocation of them gives the impression of establishing some fresh conclusion. Another variety is based on homonymy; e.g. the argument that the mouse
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Troades 990. Frag. 4 Nauck.

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must be a noble creature, since it gives its name to the most august of all religious ritesfor such the Mysteries are. Or one may introduce, into a eulogy of the dog, the dog-star; or Pan, because Pindar said: O thou blessed one! Thou whom they of Olympus call The hound of manifold shape That follows the Mother of Heaven;94 or we may argue that, because there is much disgrace in there not being a dog about, there is honour in being a dog. Or that Hermes is readier than any other god to go shares, since we never say shares all round except of him. Or that speech is a very excellent thing, since good men are not said to be worth money but to be worthy of esteemthe phrase worthy of esteem also having the meaning of worth speech. Another line is to assert of the whole what is true of the parts, or of the parts what is true of the whole. A whole and its parts are supposed to be identical, though often they are not. You have therefore to adopt whichever of these two lines better suits your purpose. That is how Euthydemus argues; e.g. that anyone knows that there is a trireme in the Peiraeus, since he knows the separate details that make up this statement. There is also the argument that one who knows the letters knows the whole word, since the word is the same thing as the letters which compose it; or that, if a double portion of a certain thing is harmful to health, then a single portion must not be called wholesome, since it is absurd that two good things should make one bad thing. Put thus, the enthymeme is refutative; put as follows, demonstrative: For one good thing cannot be made up of two bad things. The whole commonplace is fallacious. Again, there is Polycrates saying that Thrasybulus put down thirty tyrants, where the speaker adds them up one by one. Or the argument in the Orestes of Theodectes, where the argument is from part to whole: Tis right that she who slays her lord should die. It is right, too, that the son should avenge his father. Very good: these two things are what Orestes has done. Still, perhaps the two things, once they are put together, do not form a right act. The fallacy might also be said to be due to omission, since the speaker fails to say by whose hand a husband-slayer should die. Another commonplace is the use of indignant language, whether to support
94

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your own case or to overthrow your opponents. We do this when we paint a highly-coloured picture of the situation without having proved the facts of it: if the defendant does so, he produces an impression of his innocence; and if the prosecutor does,95 he produces an impression of the defendants guilt. Here there is no genuine enthymeme: the hearer infers guilt or innocence, but no proof is given, and the inference is fallacious accordingly. Another line is to use a sign, which, again, yields no deduction. Thus, it might be said that lovers are useful to their countries, since the love of Harmodius and Aristogeiton caused the downfall of the tyrant Hipparchus. Or, again, that Dionysius is a thief, since he is a vicious manthere is, of course, no deduction here; not every vicious man is a thief, though every thief is a vicious man. Another line relies on the accidental. An instance is what Polycrates says of the mice, that they came to the rescue because they gnawed through the bowstrings. Or it might be maintained that an invitation to dinner is a great honour, for it was because he was not invited that Achilles was angered with the Greeks at Tenedos. In fact, what angered him was the insult involved; it was a mere accident that this was the particular form that the insult took. Another is the argument from consequence. In the Alexander, for instance, it is argued that Paris must have had a lofty disposition, since he despised society and lived by himself on Mount Ida: because lofty people do this kind of thing, therefore Paris too, we are to suppose, had a lofty soul. Or, if a man dresses fashionably and roams around at night, he is a rake, since that is the way rakes behave. Another similar argument points out that beggars sing and dance in temples, and that exiles can live wherever they please, and that such privileges are at the disposal of those we account happy; and therefore every one might be regarded as happy if only he has those privileges. What matters, however, is the circumstances under which the privileges are enjoyed. Hence this line too falls under the head of fallacies by omission. Another line consists in representing as causes things which are not causes, on the ground that they happened along with or before the event in question. They assume that, because B happens after A, it happens because of A. Politicians are especially fond of taking this line. Thus Demades said that the policy of Demosthenes was the cause of all the mischief, for after it the war occurred. Another line consists in leaving out any mention of time and circumstances. E.g. the argument that Paris was justied in taking Helen, since her father left her free to choose: here the freedom was presumably not perpetual; it could only refer
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to her rst choice, beyond which her fathers authority could not go. Or again, one might say that to strike a free man is an act of wanton outrage; but it is not so in every caseonly when it is unprovoked. Again, a spurious deduction may, as in eristical discussions, be based on the confusion of the absolute with that which is not absolute. As, in dialectic, for instance, it may be argued that what-is-not is, on the ground that what-is-not is what-is-not; or that the unknown can be known, on the ground that it can be known to be unknown: so also in rhetoric a spurious enthymeme may be based on the confusion of some particular probability with absolute probability. Now no particular probability is universally probable: as Agathon says, One might perchance say this was probable That things improbable oft will hap to men.96 For what is improbable does happen, and therefore it is probable that improbable things will happen. Granted this, one might argue that what is improbable is probable. But this is not true absolutely. As, in eristic, the imposture comes from not adding any clause specifying relationship or reference or manner; so here it arises because the probability in question is not general but specic. It is of this commonplace that Coraxs Art of Rhetoric is composed. If the accused is not open to the chargefor instance if a weakling is tried for violent assaultthe defence is that he was not likely to do such a thing. But if he is open to the chargei.e. if he is a strong manthe defence is still that he was not likely to do such a thing, since he could be sure that people would think he was likely to do it. And so with any other charge: the accused must be either open or not open to it: both seem probable, but one is probable and the other not so absolutely but only in the way we have described. This sort of argument illustrates what is meant by making the worse argument seem the better. Hence people were right in objecting to the training Protagoras undertook to give them. It was a fraud; the probability it handled was not genuine but spurious, and has a place in no art except Rhetoric and Eristic.

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25 Enthymemes, genuine and apparent, have now been described; the next subject is their refutation. An argument may be refuted either by a counter-deduction or by bringing an objection. It is clear that counter-deductions can be built up from the same commonplaces; for the materials of deductions are reputable opinions, and such opin96

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ions often contradict each other. Objections, as appears in the Topics,97 may be raised in four wayseither by directly attacking your opponents own statement, or by putting forward another statement like it, or by putting forward a statement contrary to it, or by quoting previous decisions. By attacking your opponents own statement I mean, for instance, this: if his enthymeme should assert that love is always good, the objection can be brought in two ways, either by making the general statement that all want is an evil, or by making the particular one that there would be no talk of Caunian love if there were not evil loves as well as good ones. An objection from a contrary statement is raised when, for instance, the opponents enthymeme having concluded that a good man does good to all his friends, you object, But a bad man does not do evil to all his friends. An example of an objection from a like statement is, the enthymeme having shown that ill-used men always hate their ill-users, to reply, But well-used men do not always love those who used them well. The decisions mentioned are those proceeding from well-known men; for instance, if the enthymeme employed has concluded that some allowance ought to be made for drunken offenders, since they did not know what they were doing, the objection will be, Pittacus, then, deserves no approval, or he would not have prescribed specially severe penalties for offences due to drunkenness. Enthymemes are based upon one or other of four things: probabilities, examples, evidences, signs. Enthymemes based upon probabilities are those which argue from what is, or is supposed to be, usually true. Enthymemes based upon example are those which proceed from one or more similar cases, arrive at a general proposition, and then argue deductively to a particular inference. Enthymemes based upon evidences are those which argue from the inevitable and invariable. Enthymemes based upon signs are those which argue from some universal or particular proposition, true or false. Now as a probability is that which happens usually but not always, enthymemes founded upon probabilities can, it is clear, always be refuted by raising some objection. The refutation is not genuine but spurious; for it consists in showing not that your opponents premiss is not probable, but only in showing that it is not inevitably true. Hence it is always in defence rather than in accusation that it is possible to gain an advantage by using this fallacy. For the accuser uses probabilities to prove his case: and to refute a conclusion as improbable is not the same thing as to refute it as not inevitable. Any argument based upon what usually hap97

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pens is always open to objection: otherwise it would not happen usually and be a probability but hold always and be necessary. But the judges think, if the refutation takes this form, either that the accusers case is not probable or that they must not decide it; which, as we said, is a false piece of reasoning. For they ought to decide by considering not merely what must be true but also what is likely to be true: this is, indeed, the meaning of giving a verdict in accordance with ones honest opinion. Therefore it is not enough for the defendant to refute the accusation by proving that the charge is not bound to be true: he must do so by showing that it is not likely to be true. For this purpose his objection must state what is more usually true than the statement attacked. It may do so in either of two ways: either in respect of time or in respect of the facts. It will be most convincing if it does so in both respects; for if the thing in question happens oftener thus, the probability is greater. Signs, and enthymemes based upon them, can be refuted even if the facts are correct, as was said at the outset. For we have shown in the Analytics98 that every sign is non-deductive. Enthymemes depending on examples may be refuted in the same way as probabilities. If we have a single negative instance, the argument is refuted, in so far as it is proved not inevitable, even though the positive examples are more similar and more frequent. Otherwise, we must contend that the present case is dissimilar, or that its conditions are dissimilar, or that it is different in some way or other. It will be impossible to refute evidences and enthymemes resting on them, by showing in any way that they are non-deductive: this, too, we see from the Analytics.99 All we can do is to show that the fact alleged does not exist. If there is no doubt that it does, and that it is an evidence, refutation now becomes impossible; for this is equivalent to a demonstration which is clear in every respect. 26 Amplication and depreciation are not an element of enthymeme. By an element I mean the same thing as a commonplace; for an element is a commonplace embracing a large number of particular kinds of enthymeme. Amplication and depreciation are used to show that a thing is great or small; just as there are other kinds used to show that a thing is good or bad, just or unjust, and anything else of the sort. All these things are the subject-matter of deductions and enthymemes; none of these is a commonplace for an enthymeme; no more, therefore, are amplication and depreciation. Nor are refutative enthymemes a species. For it is clear that refutation consists
98 99

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either in offering proof or in raising an objection, and that we prove the opposite of our adversarys statements. Thus, if he shows that a thing has happened, we show that it has not; if he shows that it has not happened, we show that it has. This, then, could not be the distinction, since the same means are employed by both parties, enthymemes being adduced to show that the fact is or is not so-andso. An objection, on the other hand, is not an enthymeme at all, but as was said in the Topics,100 it consists in stating some opinion from which it will be clear that our opponent has not reasoned correctly or has made a false assumption. Three points must be studied in making a speech; and we have now completed the account of examples, maxims, enthymemes, and in general the thoughtelementthe way to invent and refute arguments. We have next to discuss language and arrangement.

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1 In making a speech one must study three points: rst, the means of producing persuasion; second, the language; third, the proper arrangement of the various parts of the speech. We have already specied the sources of persuasion. We have shown that these are three in number; what they are; and why there are only these three; for persuasion is in every case effected either by working on the emotions of the judges themselves, by giving them the right impression of the speakers character, or by proving the truth of the statements made. Enthymemes also have been described, and the sources from which they should be derived; there being both special lines of argument for enthymemes and commonplaces. Our next subject will be language. For it is not enough to know what we ought to say; we must also say it as we ought; much help is thus afforded towards producing the right impression of a speech. The rst question to receive attention was naturally the one that comes rst naturallyhow persuasion can be produced from the facts themselves. The second is how to set these facts out in language. A third would be the proper method of delivery; this is a thing that affects the success of a speech greatly; but hitherto the subject has been neglected. Indeed, it was long before it found a way into the arts of tragic drama and epic recitation: at rst poets acted their tragedies themselves. It is plain that delivery has just as much to do with oratory as with poetry. (In connexion with poetry, it has been studied by Glaucon of Teos among others.) It is, essentially, a matter of the right management of the voice to express the various emotionsof speaking loudly, softly, or between the two; of high, low, or intermediate pitch; of the various rhythms that suit various subjects. These are the three thingsvolume of sound, modulation of pitch, and rhythmthat a speaker bears in mind. It is those who do bear them in mind who usually win prizes in the dramatic contests; and just as in drama the actors now count for more than the poets, so it is in the contests of public life, owing to the defects of our political institutions. No systematic treatise upon the rules of delivery has yet been composed; indeed, even the study of language made no progress till late in the day. Besides, delivery isvery properlynot regarded as an elevated subject of inquiry. Still, the whole business of rhetoric being concerned with appearances, we must pay attention to

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the subject of delivery, unworthy though it is, because we cannot do without it. The right thing in speaking really is that we should be satised not to annoy our hearers, without trying to delight them: we ought in fairness to ght our case with no help beyond the bare facts; nothing, therefore, should matter except the proof of those facts. Still, as has been already said, other things affect the result considerably, owing to the defects of our hearers. The arts of language cannot help having a small but real importance, whatever it is we have to expound to others: the way in which a thing is said does affect its intelligibility. Not, however, so much importance as people think. All such arts are fanciful and meant to charm the hearer. Nobody uses ne language when teaching geometry. When the principles of delivery have been worked out, they will produce the same effect as on the stage. But only very slight attempts to deal with them have been made and by a few people, as by Thrasymachus in his Appeals to Pity. Dramatic ability is a natural gift, and can hardly be systematically taught. The principles of language can be so taught, and therefore we have men of ability in this direction too, who win prizes in their turn, as well as those speakers who excel in deliveryspeeches of the written kind owe more of their effect to their language than to their thought. It was naturally the poets who rst set the movement going; for words represent things, and they had also the human voice at their disposal, which of all our organs can best represent other things. Thus the arts of recitation and acting were formed, and others as well. Now it was because poets seemed to win fame through their ne language when their thoughts were simple enough, that language at rst took a poetical colour, e.g. that of Gorgias. Even now most uneducated people think that poetical language makes the nest discourses. That is not true: the language of prose is distinct from that of poetry. This is shown by the state of things to-day, when even the language of tragedy has altered its character. Just as iambics were adopted, instead of tetrameters, because they are the most prose-like of all metres, so tragedy has given up all those words, not used in ordinary talk, which decorated the early drama and are still used by the writers of hexameter poems. It is therefore ridiculous to imitate a poetical manner which the poets themselves have dropped; and it is now plain that we have not to treat in detail the whole question of language, but may conne ourselves to that part of it which concerns our present subject, rhetoric. The other part of it has been discussed in the treatise on the Art of Poetry. 2 We may, then, start from the observations there made, and the stipulation that language to be good must be clear, as is proved by the fact that speech

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which fails to convey a plain meaning will fail to do just what speech has to do. It must also be appropriate, avoiding both meanness and undue evaluation; poetical language is certainly free from meanness, but it is not appropriate to prose. Clearness is secured by using the words (nouns and verbs alike) that are current and ordinary. Freedom from meanness, and positive adornment too, are secured by using the other words mentioned in the Art of Poetry. Such variation makes the language appear more stately. People do not feel towards strangers as they do towards their own countrymen, and the same thing is true of their feeling for language. It is therefore well to give to everyday speech an unfamiliar air: people like what strikes them, and are struck by what is out of the way. In verse such effects are common, and there they are tting: the persons and things there spoken of are comparatively remote from ordinary life; for even in poetry, it is not quite appropriate that ne language should be used by a slave or a very young man, or about very trivial subjects: even in poetry the style, to be appropriate, must sometimes be toned down, though at other times heightened. All the more so in prose, where the subject-matter is less exalted. We can now see that a writer must disguise his art and give the impression of speaking naturally and not articially. Naturalness is persuasive, articiality is the contrary; for our hearers are prejudiced and think we have some design against them, as if we were mixing their wines for them. It is like the difference between the quality of Theodorus voice and the voices of all other actors: his really seems to be that of the character who is speaking, theirs do not. We can hide our purpose successfully by taking the single words of our composition from the speech of ordinary life. This is done in poetry by Euripides, who was the rst to show the way to his successors. Language is composed of nouns and verbs. Nouns are of the various kinds considered in the treatise on poetry. Strange words, compound words, and invented words must be used sparingly and on few occasions: on what occasions we shall state later. The reason for this restriction has been already indicated: they depart from what is suitable, in the direction of excess. In the language of prose, besides the regular and proper terms for things, metaphorical terms only can be used with advantage. This we gather from the fact that these two classes of terms, the proper or regular and the metaphoricalthese and no othersare used by everybody in conversation. We can now see that a good writer can produce a style that is distinguished without being obtrusive, and is at the same time clear, thus satisfying our denition of good oratorical prose. Words of ambiguous meaning are chiey useful to enable the sophist to mislead his hearers. Synonyms are useful to the poet, by which I mean words whose ordinary meaning is the same, e.g. poreuesthai (advancing) and badizein (proceeding); these two are ordinary

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words and have the same meaning. In the Art of Poetry, as we have already said, will be found denitions of these kinds of words; a classication of metaphors; and mention of the fact that metaphor is of great value both in poetry and in prose. Prose-writers must, however, pay specially careful attention to metaphor, because their other resources are scantier than those of poets. Metaphor, moreover, gives style clearness, charm, and distinction as nothing else can: and it is not a thing whose use can be taught by one man to another. Metaphors, like epithets, must be tting, which means that they must fairly correspond to the thing signied: failing this, their inappropriateness will be conspicuous: the want of harmony between two things is emphasized by their being placed side by side. It is like having to ask ourselves what dress will suit an old man; certainly not the crimson cloak that suits a young man. And if you wish to pay a compliment, you must take your metaphor from something better in the same line; if to disparage, from something worse. To illustrate my meaning: since opposites are in the same class, you do what I have suggested if you say that a man who begs prays, and a man who prays begs; for praying and begging are both varieties of asking. So Iphicrates called Callias a mendicant priest instead of a torch-bearer, and Callias replied that Iphicrates must be uninitiated or he would have called him not a mendicant priest but a torch-bearer. Both are religious titles, but one is honourable and the other is not. Again, somebody calls actors hangerson of Dionysus, but they call themselves artists: each of these terms is a metaphor, the one intended to throw dirt at the actor, the other to dignify him. And pirates now call themselves purveyors. We can thus call a crime a mistake, or a mistake a crime. We can say that a thief took a thing, or that he plundered his victim. An expression like that of Euripides Telephus, King of the oar, on Mysias coast he landed,101 is inappropriate; the word king goes beyond the dignity of the subject, and so the art is not concealed. A metaphor may be amiss because the very syllables of the words conveying it fail to indicate sweetness of vocal utterance. Thus Dionysius the Brazen in his elegies calls poetry Calliopes screech. Poetry and screeching are both, to be sure, vocal utterances. But the metaphor is bad, because the sounds of screeching, unlike those of poetry, are discordant and unmeaning. Further, in using metaphors to give names to nameless things, we must draw them not from remote but from kindred and similar things, so that the kinship is clearly perceived as soon as the words are said. Thus in the celebrated riddle
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the process is nameless; but both it and gluing are a kind of application, and that is why the application of the cupping-glass is here called a gluing. Good riddles do, in general, provide us with satisfactory metaphors; for metaphors imply riddles, and therefore a good riddle can furnish a good metaphor. Further, the materials of metaphors must be beautiful; and the beauty, like the ugliness, of all words may, as Licymnius says, lie in their sound or in their meaning. Further, there is a third considerationone that upsets the fallacious argument of the sophist Bryson, that there is no such thing as foul language, because in whatever words you put a given thing your meaning is the same. This is untrue. One term may describe a thing more truly than another, may be more like it, and set it more intimately before our eyes. Besides, two different words will represent a thing in two different lights; so on this ground also one term must be held fairer or fouler than another. For both of two terms will indicate what is fair, or what is foul, but not simply their fairness or their foulness, or if so, at any rate not in an equal degree. The materials of metaphor must be beautiful to the ear, to the understanding, to the eye or some other physical sense. It is better, for instance, to say rosy-ngered morn, than crimson-ngered or, worse still, red-ngered morn. The epithets that we apply, too, may have a bad and ugly aspect, as when Orestes is called a mother-slayer; or a better one, as when he is called his fathers avenger.103 Simonides, when the victor in the mule-race offered him a small fee, refused to write him an ode, because, he said, it was so unpleasant to write odes to half-asses; but on receiving an adequate fee, he wrote Hail to you, daughters of storm-footed steeds, though of course they were daughters of asses too. The same effect is attained by the use of diminutives, which make a bad thing less bad and a good thing less good. Take, for instance, the banter of Aristophanes in the Babylonians where he uses goldlet for gold, cloaklet for cloak, scofet for scoff, and plaguelet. But alike in using epithets and in using diminutives we must be wary and must observe the mean.
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3 Frigidities in language may take any of four forms:The misuse of compound words. Lycophron, for instance, talks of the many-visaged heaven
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above the giant-crested earth, and again the strait-pathed shore; and Gorgias of the pauper-poet atterer and oath-breaking and ever-oath-keeping. Alcidamas uses such expressions as the soul lling with rage and face becoming ameushed, and he thought their enthusiasm would be issue-fraught and issuefraught he made the persuasion of his words, and sombre-hued is the oor of the sea. The way all these words are compounded makes them, we feel, t for verse only. This, then, is one form in which bad taste is shown. Another is the employment of strange words. For instance, Lycophron talks of the towering Xerxes and spoliative Sciron, Alcidamas of a toy for poetry and the witlessness of nature, and says whetted with the unmitigated temper of his spirit. A third form is the use of long, unseasonable, or frequent epithets. It is appropriate enough for a poet to talk of white milk, but in prose such epithets are sometimes lacking in appropriateness or, when spread too thickly, plainly reveal the author turning his prose into poetry. Of course we must use some epithets, since they lift our style above the usual level and give it an air of distinction. But we must aim at the due mean, or the result will be worse than if we took no trouble at all; we shall get something actually bad instead of something merely not good. That is why the epithets of Alcidamas seem so frigid; he does not use them as the seasoning of the meat, but as the meat itself, so numerous and swollen and obtrusive are they. For instance, he does not say sweat, but the moist sweat; not to the Isthmian games, but to the world-concourse of the Isthmian games; not laws, but the laws that are monarchs of states; not at a run, but his heart impelling him to speed of foot; not a school of the Muses, but Natures school of the Muses had he inherited; and so frowning care of heart, and achiever not of popularity but of universal popularity, and dispenser of pleasure to his audience, and he concealed it not with boughs but with boughs of the forest trees, and he clothed not his body but his bodys nakedness, and his souls desire was counter-imitative (this at one and the same time a compound and an epithet, so that it seems a poets effort), and so extravagant the excess of his wickedness. We thus see how the inappropriateness of such poetical language imports absurdity and frigidity into speeches, as well as the obscurity that comes from all this verbosityfor when the sense is plain, you only obscure and spoil its clearness by piling up words. The ordinary use of compound words is where there is no term for a thing and some compound can be easily formed, like pastime (chronotribein); but if this is much done, the prose character disappears entirely. We now see why the language of compounds is just the thing for writers of dithyrambs, who love sonorous

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noises; strange words for writers of epic poetry, which is a proud and stately affair; [and metaphor for iambic verse, the metre which (as has been already said) is widely used to-day.]104 There remains the fourth region in which frigidity may be shown, metaphor. Metaphors like other things may be inappropriate. Some are so because they are ridiculous; they are indeed used by comic as well as tragic poets. Others are too grand and theatrical; and these, if they are far-fetched, may also be obscure. For instance, Gorgias talks of events that are green and full of sap, and says foul was the deed you sowed and evil the harvest you reaped. That is too much like poetry. Alcidamas, again, called philosophy a bulwark of the laws, and the Odyssey a goodly looking-glass of human life, and talked about offering no such toy to poetry: all these explanations fail, for the reasons given, to carry the hearer with them. The address of Gorgias to the swallow, when she had let her droppings fall on him as she ew overhead, is in the best tragic manner. He said, Nay, shame, O Philomela. Considering her as a bird, you could not call her act shameful; considering her as a girl, you could; and so it was a good gibe to address her as what she was once and not as what she is. 4 The simile also is a metaphor; the difference is but slight. When the poet says: He leapt on the foe as a lion,105 this is a simile; when he says of him the lion leapt, it is a metaphorhere, since both are courageous, he has transferred to Achilles the name of lion. Similes are useful in prose as well as in verse; but not often, since they are of the nature of poetry. They are to be employed just as metaphors are employed, since they are really the same thing except for the difference mentioned. The following are examples of similes. Androtion said of Idrieus that he was like a terrier let off the chain, that ies at you and bites youIdrieus too was savage now that he was let out of his chains. Theodamas compared Archidamus to a Euxenus who could not do geometrya proportional simile, implying that Euxenus is an Archidamus who can do geometry. In Platos Republic those who strip the dead are compared to curs which bite the stones thrown at them but do not touch the thrower; and there is the simile about the Athenian people, who are compared to a ships captain who is strong but a little deaf; and the one about
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Excised by Kassel. Cf. Iliad XX 164.

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poets verses, which are likened to persons who lack beauty but possess youthful freshnesswhen the freshness has faded the charm perishes, and so with verses when broken up into prose.106 Pericles compared the Samians to children who take their pap but go on crying; and the Boeotians to holm-oaks, because they were ruining one another by civil wars just as one oak causes another oaks fall. Demosthenes said that the Athenian people were like sea-sick men on board ship. Again, Democrates compared the political orators to nurses who swallow the bit of food themselves and then smear the childrens lips with the spittle. Antisthenes compared the lean Cephisodotus to frankincense, because it was his consumption that gave one pleasure. All these ideas may be expressed either as similes or as metaphors; those which succeed as metaphors will obviously do well also as similes, and similes, with the explanation omitted, will appear as metaphors. But the proportional metaphor must always apply reciprocally to either of its co-ordinate terms. For instance, if a drinking bowl is the shield of Dionysus, a shield may ttingly be called the drinking-bowl of Ares. 5 Such, then, are the ingredients of which speech is composed. The foundation of good style is correctness of language, which falls under ve heads. First, the proper use of connecting words, and the arrangement of them in the natural sequence which some of them require. For instance, the connective men (e.g. ego men) requires the correlative de (e.g. ho de). The answering word must be brought in before the rst has been forgotten, and not be widely separated from it; nor, except in the few cases where this is appropriate, is another connective to be introduced before the one required. Consider the sentence, But 1, as soon as he told me (for Cleon had come begging and praying), took them along and set out. In this sentence many connecting words are inserted in front of the one required to complete the sense; and if there is a long interval, the result is obscurity. One merit, then, of good style lies in the right use of connecting words. The second lies in calling things by their own special names and not by vague general ones. The third is to avoid ambiguities; unless, indeed, you denitely desire to be ambiguous, as those do who have nothing to say but are pretending to mean something. Such people are apt to put that sort of thing into verse. Empedocles, for instance, by his long circumlocutions imposes on his hearers; these are affected in the same way as most people are when they listen to diviners, whose ambiguous utterances are received with nods of acquiescence Croesus by crossing the Halys will ruin a mighty realm.
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Republic 469E, 488A, 601B.

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Diviners use these vague generalities about the matter in hand because their predictions are thus, as a rule, less likely to be falsied. We are more likely to be right, in the game of odd and even, if we simply guess even or odd than if we guess at the actual number; and the oracle-monger is more likely to be right if he simply says that a thing will happen than if he says when it will happen, and therefore he refuses to add a denite date. All these ambiguities have the same sort of effect, and are to be avoided unless we have some such object as that mentioned. A fourth rule is to observe Protagoras classication of nouns into masculine, feminine and neuter; for these distinctions also must be correctly given. Upon her arrival she said her say and departed (ho d elthousa kai dialechtheisa ocheto). A fth rule is to express the singular and the plural by the correct wording, e.g. Having come, they struck me (oi d elthontes etypton me). It is a general rule that a written composition should be easy to read and therefore easy to deliver. This cannot be so where there are many connecting words or clauses, or where punctuation is hard, as in the writings of Heracleitus. To punctuate Heracleitus is no easy task, because we often cannot tell whether a particular word belongs to what precedes or what follows it. Thus, at the outset of his treatise he says, Though this truth is always men understand it not, where it is not clear to which of the two clauses the word always belongs. Further, solecism will result if you annex to two terms a third which does not suit them both. Thus if you are talking of sound and colour perceive will apply to both, see will not. Obscurity is also caused if, when you intend to insert a number of details, you do not rst make your meaning clear; for instance, if you say, I meant, after telling him this, that, and the other thing, to set out, rather than something of this kind I meant to set out after telling him; then this, that, and the other thing occurred. 6 The following suggestions will help to give your language impressiveness. Describe a thing instead of naming it: do not say circle, but that surface which extends equally from the middle every way. To achieve conciseness, do the oppositeput the name instead of the description. When mentioning anything ugly or unseemly, use its name if it is the description that is ugly, and describe it if it is the name that is ugly. Represent things with the help of metaphors and epithets, being careful to avoid poetical effects. Use plural for singular, as in poetry, where one nds Unto havens Achaean,107
107

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Frag. adesp. 83 Nauck.

RHETORIC: BOOK III though only one haven is meant, and Here are my letters many-leaved folds.108

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Do not bracket two words under one article, but put one article with each; e.g. tes gynaikos tes hemeteras. The reverse to secure conciseness; e.g. tes hemeteras gynaikos. Use plenty of connecting words; conversely, to secure conciseness, dispense with connectives, while still preserving connexion; e.g. having gone and spoken, and having gone, I spoke, respectively. And the practice of Antimachus, too, is usefulto describe a thing by mentioning attributes it does not possess; as he does in talking of Teumessus There is a little wind-swept knoll . . . A subject can be developed indenitely along these lines. You may apply this method of treatment by negation either to good or to bad qualities, according to which your subject requires. It is from this source that the poets draw expressions such as the stringless or lyreless melody, thus forming epithets out of negations. This device is popular in proportional metaphors, as when the trumpets note is called a lyreless melody. 7 Your language will be appropriate if it expresses emotion and character, and if it corresponds to its subject. Correspondence to subject means that we must neither speak casually about weighty matters, nor solemnly about trivial ones; nor must we add ornamental epithets to commonplace nouns, or the effect will be comic, as in the works of Cleophon, who can use phrases as absurd as O queenly g-tree. To express emotion, you will employ the language of anger in speaking of outrage; the language of disgust and discreet reluctance to utter a word when speaking of impiety or foulness; the language of exultation for a tale of glory, and that of humiliation for a tale of pity; and so in all other cases. This aptness of language is one thing that makes people believe in the truth of your story: their minds draw the false conclusion that you are to be trusted from the fact that others behave as you do when things are as you describe them; and therefore they take your story to be true, whether it is so or not. Besides, an emotional speaker always makes his audience feel with him, even when there is nothing in his arguments; which is why many speakers try to overwhelm their audience by mere noise. Furthermore, this way of proving your story by displaying these signs of its
108

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Euripides, Iphigenia in Tauris, 727.

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genuineness expresses your personal character. Each class of men, each type of disposition, will have its own appropriate way of letting the truth appear. Under class I include differences of age, as boy, man, or old man; of sex, as man or woman; of nationality, as Spartan or Thessalian. By dispositions I here mean those dispositions only which determine the character of a mans life, for it is not every disposition that does this. If, then, a speaker uses the very words which are in keeping with a particular disposition, he will reproduce the corresponding character; for a rustic and an educated man will not say the same things nor speak in the same way. Again, some impression is made upon an audience by a device which speech-writers employ to nauseous excess, when they say Who does not know this? or It is known to everybody. The hearer is ashamed of his ignorance, and agrees with the speaker, so as to have a share of the knowledge that everybody else possesses. All the variations of oratorical style are capable of being used in season or out of season. The best way to counteract any exaggeration is the well-worn device by which the speaker puts in some criticism of himself; for then people feel it must be all right for him to talk thus, since he certainly knows what he is doing. Further, it is better not to have everything always just corresponding to everything elseyour purpose will thus be hidden. I mean for instance, if your words are harsh, you should not extend this harshness to your voice and your countenance and have everything else in keeping. If you do, the articial character of each detail becomes apparent; whereas if you adopt one device and not another, you are using art all the same and yet nobody notices it. (To be sure, if mild sentiments are expressed in harsh tones and harsh sentiments in mild tones, you become comparatively unconvincing.) Compound words, fairly plentiful epithets, and strange words best suit an emotional speech. We forgive an angry man for talking about a wrong as heaven-high or colossal; and we excuse such language when the speaker has his hearers already in his hands and has stirred them deeply either by praise or blame or anger or affection, as Isocrates, for instance, does at the end of his Panegyric, with his name and fame and in that they brooked. Men do speak in this strain when they are deeply stirred, and so, once the audience is in a like state of feeling, approval of course follows. This is why such language is tting in poetry, which is an inspired thing. This language, then, should be used either under stress of emotion, or ironically, after the manner of Gorgias and of the passages in the Phaedrus. 8 The form of a prose composition should be neither metrical nor destitute of rhythm. The metrical form destroys the hearers trust by its articial

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appearance, and at the same time it diverts his attention, making him watch for metrical recurrences, just as children catch up the heralds question, Whom does the freedman choose as his advocate?, with the answer Cleon! On the other hand, unrhythmical language is too unlimited; we do not want the limitations of metre, but some limitation we must have, or the effect will be vague and unsatisfactory. Now it is number that limits all things; and it is the numerical limitation of the form of a composition that constitutes rhythm, of which metres are denite sections. Prose, then, is to be rhythmical, but not metrical, or it will become not prose but verse. It should not even have too precise a prose rhythm, and therefore should only be rhythmical to a certain extent. Of the various rhythms, the heroic has dignity, but lacks the tones of the spoken language. The iambic is the very language of ordinary people, so that in common talk iambic lines occur oftener than any others: but in a speech we need dignity and the power of taking the hearer out of his ordinary self. The trochee is too much akin to wild dancing: we can see this in tetrameter verse, which is one of the trochaic rhythms. There remains the paean, which speakers began to use in the time of Thrasymachus, though they had then no name to give it. The paean is a third class of rhythm, closely akin to both the two already mentioned; it has in it the ratio of three to two, whereas the other two kinds have the ratio of one to one, and two to one respectively. Between the two last ratios comes the ratio of one-and-a-half to one, which is that of the paean. Now the other two kinds of rhythm must be rejected in writing prose, partly for the reasons given, and partly because they are too metrical; and the paean must be adopted, since from this alone of the rhythms mentioned no denite metre arises, and therefore it is the least obtrusive of them. At present the same form of paean is employed at the beginning as at the end of sentences, whereas the end should differ from the beginning. There are two opposite kinds of paean, one of which is suitable to the beginning of a sentence, where it is indeed actually used; this is the kind that begins with a long syllable and ends with three short ones, as Dalogenes eite Lyki an, and Chryseokom a Hekate pai Dios The other paean begins, conversely, with three short syllables and ends with a long one, as

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This kind of paean makes a real close: a short syllable can give no effect of nality, and therefore makes the rhythm appear truncated. A sentence should break off with the long syllable: the fact that it is over should be indicated not by the scribe, or by his full stop, but by the rhythm itself. We have now seen that our language must be rhythmical and not destitute of rhythm, and what rhythms, in what particular shape, make it so. 9 The language of prose must be either free-running, with its parts united by nothing except the connecting words, like the preludes in dithyrambs; or compact and antithetical, like the strophes of the old poets. The free-running style is the ancient one, e.g. Herein is set forth the inquiry of Herodotus the Thurian.109 Every one used this method formerly; not many do so now. By free-running style I mean the kind that has no natural stopping-places, and comes to a stop only because there is no more to say of that subject. This style is unsatisfying just because it goes on indenitelyone always likes to sight a stopping-place in front of one: it is only at the goal that men in a race faint and collapse; while they see the end of the course before them, they can keep going. Such, then, is the free-running kind of style; the compact is that which is in periods. By a period I mean a portion of speech that has in itself a beginning and an end, being at the same time not too big to be taken in at a glance. Language of this kind is satisfying and easy to follow. It is satisfying, because it is just the reverse of indenite; and moreover, the hearer always feels that he is grasping something and has reached some denite conclusion; whereas it is unsatisfactory to see nothing in front of you and get nowhere. It is easy to follow, because it can easily be remembered; and this because language when in periodic form can be numbered, and number is the easiest of all things to remember. That is why verse, which is measured, is always more easily remembered than prose, which is not: the measures of verse can be numbered. The period must, further, not be completed until the sense is complete: it must not be capable of breaking off abruptly, as may happen with the following iambic lines Calydons soil is this; of Pelops land110 By a wrong division of the words the hearer may take the meaning to be the reverse of what it is: for instance, in the passage quoted, one might imagine that Calydon is in the Peloponnesus.
109 110

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Herodotus I i. Euripides, frag. 515 Nauck.

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A period may be either divided into several members or simple. The period of several members is a portion of speech complete in itself, divided into parts, and easily delivered at a single breathas a whole, that is; not by fresh breath being taken at the division. A member is one of the two parts of such a period. By a simple period, I mean that which has only one member. The members, and the whole periods, should be neither curt nor long. A member which is too short often makes the listener stumble; he is still expecting the rhythm to go on to the limit his mind has xed for it; and if meanwhile he is pulled back by the speakers stopping, the shock is bound to make him, so to speak, stumble. If, on the other hand, you go on too long, you make him feel left behind, like people who pass beyond the boundary before turning back. So too if a period is too long you turn it into a speech, or something like a dithyrambic prelude. The result is much like the preludes that Democritus of Chios jeered at Melanippides for writing instead of antistrophic stanzas He that sets traps for another mans feet Is like to fall into them rst; And long-winded preludes do harm to us all, But the preluder catches it worst. Which applies likewise to long-membered orators. Periods whose members are altogether too short are not periods at all; and the result is to bring the hearer down with a crash. The periodic style which is divided into members is of two kinds. It is either simply divided, as in I have often wondered at the conveners of national gatherings and the founders of athletic contests;111 or it is antithetical, where, in each of the two members, one of one pair of opposites is put along with one of another pair, or the same word is used to bracket two opposites, as They aided both partiesnot only those who stayed behind but those who accompanied them: for the latter they acquired new territory larger than that at home, and to the former they left territory at home that was large enough. Here the contrasted words are staying behind and accompanying, enough and larger. So in the example, Both to those who want to acquire property and to those who desire to enjoy it, where enjoyment is contrasted with acquisition. Again, it often happens in such enterprises that the wise men fail and the fools succeed; they were awarded the prize of valour immediately, and won the command of the sea not long afterwards; to sail through the mainland and march through the sea, by bridging
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This and the following quotations are from Isocrates Panegyricus.

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the Hellespont and cutting through Athos; nature gave them their country and law took it away again; some of them perished in misery, others were saved in disgrace; Athenian citizens keep foreigners in their houses as servants, while the city of Athens allows her allies by thousands to live as the foreigners slaves; and to possess in life or to bequeath at death. There is also what some one said about Peitholaus and Lycophron in a lawcourt, These men used to sell you when they were at home, and now they have come to you here and bought you. All these passages have the structure described above. Such a form of speech is satisfying, because the signicance of contrasted ideas is easily felt, especially when they are thus put side by side, and also because it has the effect of a logical argument; it is by putting two opposing conclusions side by side that you prove one of them false. Such, then, is the nature of antithesis. Parisosis is making the two members of a period equal in length. Paromoeosis is making the extreme words of both members like each other. This must happen either at the beginning or at the end of each member. If at the beginning, the resemblance must always be between whole words; at the end, between nal syllables or inexions of the same word or the same word repeated. Thus, at the beginning agron gar elaben argon par autou112 and doretoi t epelonto pararretoi t epeessin.113 At the end oethos an auton ou paidion tetokenai, all auton paidion gegonenai, and en pleistais de phrontisi kai en elachistais elpisin. An example of inexions of the same word is axios de stathenai chalkous, ouk axios on chalkou Of the same word repeated,
112 113

Aristophanes, frag. 649 Kock. Iliad IX 526.

RHETORIC: BOOK III sy d auton kai zonta eleges kakos kai nyn grapheis kakos. Of one syllable, ti an epathes deinon, ei andr eides argon;

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It is possible for the same sentence to have all these features togetherantithesis, parison, and homoeoteleuton. (The possible beginnings of periods have been pretty fully enumerated in the Theodectea.) There are also spurious antitheses, like that of Epicharmus There one time I as their guest did stay, And they were my hosts on another day.114 10 We may now consider the above points settled, and pass on to say something about the way to devise lively and taking sayings. Their actual invention can only come through natural talent or long practice; but this treatise may indicate the way it is done. We may deal with them by enumerating the different kinds of them. We will begin by remarking that we all naturally nd it agreeable to get hold of new ideas easily: words express ideas, and therefore those words are the most agreeable that enable us to get hold of new ideas. Now strange words simply puzzle us; ordinary words convey only what we know already; it is from metaphor that we can best get hold of something fresh. When the poet calls old age a withered stalk,115 he conveys a new idea, a new fact, to us by means of the general notion of lost bloom, which is common to both things. The similes of the poets do the same, and therefore, if they are good similes, give an effect of brilliance. The simile, as has been said before, is a metaphor, differing from it only in the way it is put; and just because it is longer it is less attractive. Besides, it does not say outright that this is that, and therefore the hearer is less interested in the idea. We see, then, that both speech and reasoning are lively in proportion as they make us seize a new idea promptly. For this reason people are not much taken either by obvious arguments (using the word obvious to mean what is plain to everybody and needs no investigation), nor by those which puzzle us when we hear them stated, but only by those which convey their information to us as soon as we hear them, provided we had not the information already; or which the mind only just fails to keep up with. These two kinds do convey to us a sort of information: but
114 115

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Frag. 20a Diels-Kranz. Odyssey XIV 213.

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the obvious and the obscure kinds convey nothing, either at once or later on. It is these qualities, then, that, so far as the meaning of what is said is concerned, make an argument acceptable. So far as the language is concerned, it is the antithetical form that appeals to us, e.g. judging that the peace common to all the rest was a war upon their own private interests,116 where there is an antithesis between war and peace. It is also good to use metaphorical words; but the metaphors must not be far-fetched, or they will be difcult to grasp, nor obvious, or they will have no effect. The words, too, ought to set the scene before our eyes; for events ought to be seen in progress rather than in prospect. So we must aim at these three points: antithesis, metaphor, and actuality. Of the four kinds of metaphor the most taking is the proportional kind. Thus Pericles, for instance, said that the vanishing from their country of the young men who had fallen in the war was as if the spring were taken out of the year. Leptines, speaking of the Lacedaemonians, said that he would not have the Athenians let Greece lose one of her two eyes. When Chares was pressing for leave to be examined upon his share in the Olynthiac war, Cephisodotus was indignant, saying that he wanted his examination to take place while he had his ngers upon the peoples throat. The same speaker once urged the Athenians to march to Euboea, with Miltiades decree as their rations. Iphicrates, indignant at the truce made by the Athenians with Epidaurus and the neighbouring sea-board, said that they had stripped themselves of their travelling-money for the journey of war. Peitholaus called the state-galley the peoples big stick, and Sestos the corn-bin of the Peiraeus. Pericles bade his countrymen remove Aegina, that eyesore of the Peiraeus. And Moerocles said he was no more a rascal than was a certain respectable citizen he named, whose rascality was worth over thirty per cent per annum to him, instead of a mere ten like his own. There is also the iambic line of Anaxandrides about the way his daughters put off marrying My daughters marriage-bonds are overdue. Polyeuctus said of a paralytic man named Speusippus that he could not keep quiet, though fortune had fastened him in the pillory of disease. Cephisodotus called warships painted millstones. Diogenes the Dog called taverns the messrooms of Attica. Aesion said that the Athenians had emptied their town into Sicily: this is a graphic metaphor. Till all Hellas shouted aloud may be regarded as a metaphor, and a graphic one again. Cephisodotus bade the Athenians take care not to hold too many parades. Isocrates used the same word of those who
116

Isocrates, Philippus 73.

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parade at the national festivals. Another example occurs in the Funeral Speech: It is tting that Greece should cut off her hair beside the tomb of those who fell at Salamis, since her freedom and their valour are buried in the same grave. Even if the speaker here had only said that it was right to weep when valour was being buried in their grave, it would have been a metaphor, and a graphic one; but the coupling of their valour and her freedom presents a kind of antithesis as well. The course of my words, said Iphicrates, lies straight through the middle of Chares deeds: this is a proportional metaphor, and the phrase straight through the middle makes it graphic. The expression to call in one danger to rescue us from another is a graphic metaphor. Lycoleon said, defending Chabrias, They did not respect even that bronze statue of his that intercedes for him yonder. This was a metaphor for the moment, though it would not always apply; a vivid metaphor, however; Chabrias is in danger, and his statue intercedes for him that lifeless yet living thing which records his services to his country. Practising in every way littleness of mind is metaphorical, for practising a quality implies increasing it. So is God kindled our reason to be a lamp within our souls, for both reason and light reveal things. So is we are not putting an end to our wars, but only postponing them, for both literal postponement and the making of such a peace as this apply to future action. So is such a saying as This treaty is a far nobler trophy than those we set up on elds of battle; they celebrate small gains and single successes; it celebrates our triumph in the war as a whole; for both trophy and treaty are signs of victory. So is A country pays a heavy reckoning in being condemned by the judgement of mankind, for a reckoning is damage deservedly incurred. 11 It has already been mentioned that liveliness is got by using the proportional type of metaphor and by making our hearers see things. We have still to explain what we mean by their seeing things, and what must be done to effect this. By making them see things I mean using expressions that represent things as in a state of activity. Thus, to say that a good man is four-square is certainly a metaphor; both the good man and the square are perfect; but the metaphor does not suggest activity. On the other hand, in the expression with his vigour in full bloom there is a notion of activity; and so in But you must roam as free as a sacred victim;117 and in Thereat up sprang the Hellenes to their feet,118
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Isocrates, Philippus 10, 127. Euripides, Iphigenia in Aulis 80.

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where up sprang gives us activity as well as metaphor, for it at once suggests swiftness. So with Homers common practice of giving metaphorical life to lifeless things: all such passages are distinguished by the effect of activity they convey. Thus, Downward anon to the valley rebounded the boulder remorseless; and The arrow ew; and Flying on eagerly; and Stuck in the earth, still panting to feed on the esh of the heroes; and And the point of the spear in its fury drove full through his breastbone.119 In all these examples the things have the effect of being active because they are made into living beings; shameless behaviour and fury and so on are all forms of activity. And the poet has attached these ideas to the things by means of proportional metaphors: as the stone is to Sisyphus, so is the shameless man to his victim. In his famous similes, too, he treats inanimate things in the same way: Curving and crested with white, host following host without ceasing.120 Here he represents everything as moving and living; and activity is movement. Metaphors must be drawn, as has been said already, from things that are related to the original thing, and yet not obviously so relatedjust as in philosophy also an acute mind will perceive resemblances even in things far apart. Thus Archytas said that an arbitrator and an altar were the same, since the injured y to both for
119 120

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Odyssey XI 598; Iliad XIII 587; IV 126; XI 574; XV 542. Iliad XIII 799.

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refuge. Or you might say that an anchor and an overhead hook were the same, since both are in a way the same, only the one secures things from below and the other from above. And to speak of states as levelled is to identify two widely different things, the equality of a physical surface and the equality of political powers. Liveliness is specially conveyed by metaphor, and by the further power of surprising the hearer; because the hearer expected something different, his acquisition of the new idea impresses him all the more. His mind seems to say, Yes, to be sure; I never thought of that. The liveliness of epigrammatic remarks is due to the meaning not being just what the words say: as in the saying of Stesichorus that the cicadas will chirp to themselves on the ground. Well-constructed riddles are attractive for the same reason; a new idea is conveyed, and there is metaphorical expression. So with the novelties of Theodorus. In these the thought is startling, and, as Theodorus puts it, does not t in with the ideas you already have. They are like the burlesque words that one nds in the comic writers. The effect is produced even by jokes depending upon changes of the letters of a word; this too is a surprise. You nd this in verse as well as in prose. The word which comes is not what the hearer imagined: thus Onward he came, and his feet were shod with hischilblains, where one imagined the word would be sandals. But the point should be clear the moment the words are uttered. Jokes made by altering the letters of a word consist in meaning, not just what you say, but something that gives a twist to the word used; e.g. the remark of Theodorus about Nicon the harpist, thrattei se, where he pretends to mean thrattei se,121 and surprises us when we nd he means something else. So you enjoy the point when you see it, though the remark will fall at unless you are aware that Nicon is a Thracian. Or again: boulei auton persai. In both these cases the saying must t the facts. This is also true of such lively remarks as the one to the effect that to the Athenians their empire (arche) of the sea was not the beginning (arche) of their troubles, since they gained by it. Or the opposite one of Isocrates, that their empire (arche) was the beginning (arche) of their troubles. Either way, the speaker says something unexpected, the soundness of which is thereupon recognized. There would be nothing clever in saying empire is empire. Isocrates means more than that, and uses the word with a new meaning. So too with the former saying, which denies that arche in one sense was arche in another sense. In all these jokes, whether a word is used in a
121

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Text uncertain.

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second sense or metaphorically, the joke is good if it ts the facts. For instance, Anaschetos (proper name) ouk anaschetos: where you say that what is so-and-so in one sense is not so-and-so in another; well, if the man is unpleasant, the joke ts the facts. Again, You should not be more a stranger than a strangeror more than you should be. That is the same as: The stranger should not always be a stranger. Here again is the use of one word in different senses. Of the same kind also is the much-praised verse of Anaxandrides: Death is most t before you do Deeds that would make death t for you. This amounts to saying it is a t thing to die when you are not t to die, or it is a t thing to die when death is not t for you, i.e. when death is not the t return for what you are doing. The type of language employed is the same in all these examples; but the more briey and antithetically such sayings can be expressed, the more taking they are, for antithesis impresses the new idea more rmly and brevity more quickly. They should always have either some personal application or some merit of expression, if they are to be true without being common-place two requirements not always satised simultaneously. Thus a man should die having done no wrong is true but dull: the right man should marry the right woman is also true but dull. No, there must be both good qualities together, as in it is tting to die when you are not t for death. The more a saying has these qualities, the livelier it appears: if, for instance, its wording is metaphorical, metaphorical in the right way, antithetical, and balanced, and at the same time it gives an idea of activity. Successful similes also, as has been said above, are in a sense metaphors, since they always involve two relations like the proportional metaphor. Thus: a shield, we say, is the drinking-bowl of Ares, and a bow is the chordless lyre. This way of putting a metaphor is not simple, as it would be if we called the bow a lyre or the shield a drinking-bowl. There are simple similes also: we may say that a ute-player is like a monkey, or that a short-sighted mans eyes are like a lamp-ame with water dropping on it, since both eyes and ame keep winking. A simile succeeds best when it is a converted metaphor, for it is possible to say that a shield is like the drinking-bowl of Ares, or that a ruin is like a house in rags, and to say that Niceratus is like a Philoctetes stung by Pratysthe simile made by Thrasymachus when he saw Niceratus, who had been beaten by Pratys in a recitation competition, still going about unkempt and unwashed. It is in these respects that poets fail worst when they fail, and succeed best when they succeed,

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RHETORIC: BOOK III Those legs of his curl just like parsley leaves; and Just like Philammon struggling with his punch-ball.

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These are all similes; and that similes are metaphors has been stated often already. Proverbs, again, are metaphors from one species to another. Suppose, for instance, a man to start some undertaking in hope of gain and then to lose by it later on, Here we have once more the man of Carpathus and his hare, says he. For both alike went through the said experience. It has now been explained fairly completely how liveliness is secured and why it has the effect it has. Successful hyperboles are also metaphors, e.g. the one about the man with a black eye, you would have thought he was a basket of mulberries; here the black eye is compared to a mulberry because of its colour, the exaggeration lying in the quantity of mulberries suggested. The phrase like so-and-so may introduce a hyperbole under the form of a simile. Thus Just like Philammon struggling with his punch-ball is equivalent to you would have thought he was Philammon struggling with his punch-ball; and Those legs of his curl just like parsley leaves is equivalent to his legs are so curly that you would have thought they were not legs but parsley leaves. Hyperboles are for young men to use; they show vehemence of character; [[and this is why angry people use them more than other people. Not though he gave me as much as the dust or the sands of the sea . . . But her, the daughter of Atreus son, I never will marry, Nay, not though she were fairer than Aphrodite the Golden, Defter of hand than Athene . . .122 ]]123
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Iliad IX 885, 388-90 Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.

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[The Attic orators are particularly fond of this method of speech.]124 Consequently it does not suit an elderly speaker.

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12 It should be observed that each kind of rhetoric has its own appropriate style. The style of written prose is not that of spoken oratory, nor are those of political and forensic speaking the same. Both written and spoken have to be known. To know the latter is to know how to speak good Greek. To know the former means that you are not obliged, as otherwise you are, to hold your tongue when you wish to communicate something to the general public. The written style is the more nished: the spoken better admits of dramatic deliveryalike the kind of oratory that reects character and the kind that reects emotion. Hence actors look out for plays written in the latter style, and poets for actors competent to act in such plays. Yet poets whose plays are meant to be read are read and circulated. Chaeremon, for instance, who is as nished as a professional speech-writer; and Licymnius among the dithyrambic poets. Compared with those of others, the speeches of professional writers sound thin in actual contests. Those of the orators, on the other hand, look amateurish enough when they pass into the hands of a reader. This is just because they are so well suited for an actual tussle, and therefore contain many dramatic touches, which, being robbed of all dramatic rendering, fail to do their own proper work, and consequently look silly. Thus strings of unconnected words, and constant repetitions of words and phrases, are very properly condemned in written speeches: but not in spoken speechesspeakers use them freely, for they have a dramatic effect. In this repetition there must be variety of tone, paving the way, as it were, to dramatic effect; e.g. This is the villain among you who deceived you, who cheated you, who meant to betray you completely. This is the sort of thing that Philemon the actor used to do in the Old Mens Madness of Anaxandrides, whenever he spoke the words Rhadamanthus and Palamedes, and also in the prologue to the Saints whenever he pronounced the pronoun I. If one does not deliver such things cleverly, it becomes a case of the man who swallowed a poker. So too with strings of unconnected words, e.g. I came to him; I met him; I besought him. Such passages must be acted, not delivered with the same quality and pitch of voice, as though they had only one idea in them. They have the further peculiarity of suggesting that a number of separate statements have been made in the time usually occupied by one. Just as the use of conjunctions makes many statements into a
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Excised by Kassel.

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single one, so the omission of conjunctions acts in the reverse way and makes a single one into many. It thus makes everything more important: e.g. I came to him; I talked to him; I entreated himwhat a lot of facts! the hearer thinks he paid no attention to anything I said. This is the effect which Homer seeks when he writes, Nireus likewise from Syme, Nireus, the son of Aglaia, Nireus, the comeliest man.125 If many things are said about a man, his name must be mentioned many times; and therefore people think that, if his name is mentioned many times, many things have been said about him. So that Homer, by means of this illusion, has made a great deal of Nireus, though he has mentioned him only in this one passage, and has preserved his memory, though he nowhere says a word about him afterwards. Now the style of oratory addressed to public assemblies is really just like scene-painting. The bigger the throng, the more distant is the point of view: so that, in the one and the other, high nish in detail is superuous and looks bad. The forensic style is more highly nished; still more so is the style of language addressed to a single judge, with whom there is very little room for rhetorical artices, since he can take the whole thing in better, and judge of what is to the point and what is not; the struggle is less intense and so the judgement is undisturbed. This is why the same speakers do not distinguish themselves in all these branches at once; high nish is wanted least where dramatic delivery is wanted most, and here the speaker must have a good voice, and above all, a strong one. It is epideictic oratory that is most literary, for it is meant to be read; and next to it forensic oratory. To analyse style still further, and add that it must be agreeable or magnicent, is useless; for why should it have these traits any more than restraint, liberality, or any other excellence of character? Obviously agreeableness will be produced by the qualities already mentioned, if our denition of excellence of style has been correct. For what other reason should style be clear, and not mean but appropriate? If it is prolix, it is not clear; nor yet if it is curt. Plainly the middle way suits best. Again, style will be made agreeable by the elements mentioned, namely by a good blending of ordinary and unusual words, by the rhythm, and by the persuasiveness that springs from appropriateness. This concludes our discussion of style, both in its general aspects and in its special applications to the various branches of rhetoric. We have now to deal with arrangement. 13 A speech has two parts. You must state your case, and you must prove it.
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Iliad II 671-3.

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You cannot either state your case and omit to prove it, or prove it without having rst stated it; since any proof must be a proof of something, and the only use of a preliminary statement is the proof that follows it. Of these two parts the rst part is called the statement of the case, the second part the argument, just as we distinguish between problem and demonstration. The current division is absurd. For narration surely is part of a forensic speech only: how in a political speech or a speech of display can there be narration in the technical sense? or a reply to a forensic opponent? or an epilogue in closely-reasoned speeches? Again, introduction, comparison of conicting arguments, and recapitulation are only found in political speeches when there is a struggle between two policies. They may occur then; so may even accusation and defence, often enough; but they form no essential part of a political speech. Even forensic speeches do not always need epilogues; not, for instance, a short speech, nor one in which the facts are easy to remember, the effect of an epilogue being always a reduction in the apparent length. It follows, then, that the only necessary parts of a speech are the statement and the argument. These are the essential features of a speech; and it cannot in any case have more than introduction, statement, argument, and epilogue. Refutation of the opponent is part of the arguments: so is comparison of the opponents case with your own, for that process is a magnifying of your own case and therefore a part of the arguments, since one who does this proves something. The introduction does nothing like this; nor does the epilogueit merely reminds us of what has been said already. If we make such distinctions we shall end, like Theodorus and his followers, by distinguishing narration proper from post-narration and prenarration, and refutation from nal refutation. But we ought only to bring in a new name if it indicates a real species with distinct specic qualities; otherwise, the practice is pointless and silly, like the way Licymnius invented names in his Art of Rhetoricsecundation, divagation, ramication.
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14 The introduction is the beginning of a speech, corresponding to the prologue in poetry and the prelude in ute-music; they are all beginnings, paving the way, as it were, for what is to follow. The musical prelude resembles the introduction to speeches of display; as ute-players play rst some brilliant passage they know well and then t it on to the opening notes of the piece itself, so in speeches of display the writer should proceed in the same way; he should begin with what best takes his fancy, and then strike up his theme and lead into it; which is indeed what is always done. (Take as an example the introduction to the Helen of Isocratesthere is nothing in common between the eristics and Helen.) And here, even if you travel far from your subject, it is tting, rather than that there

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should be sameness in the entire speech. The usual subject for the introductions to speeches of display is some piece of praise or censure. Thus Gorgias writes in his Olympic Speech, You deserve widespread admiration, men of Greece, praising thus those who started the festival gatherings. Isocrates, on the other hand, censures them for awarding distinctions to ne athletes but giving no prize for intellectual ability. Or one may begin with a piece of advice, thus: We ought to honour good men and so I myself am praising Aristeides or We ought to honour those who are unpopular but not bad men, men whose good qualities have never been noticed, like Alexander son of Priam. Here the orator gives advice. Or we may begin as speakers do in the law-courts; that is to say, with appeals to the audience to excuse us if our speech is about something paradoxical, difcult, or hackneyed; like Choerilus in the lines But now when allotment of all has been made . . . Introductions to speeches of display, then, may be composed of some piece of praise or censure, of advice to do or not to do something, or of appeals to the audience; and you must choose between making these preliminary passages connected or disconnected with the speech itself. Introductions to forensic speeches, it must be observed, have the same value as the prologues of dramas and the introductions to epic poems; the dithyrambic prelude resembling the introduction to a speech of display, as For thee, and thy gifts, . . .126 In prologues, and in epic poetry, a foretaste of the theme is given, intended to inform the hearers of it in advance instead of keeping their minds in suspense. Anything vague puzzles them: so give them a grasp of the beginning, and they can hold fast to it and follow the argument. So we nd Sing, O goddess of song, of the Wrath . . . Tell me, O Muse, of the hero . . .127 Lead me to tell a new tale, how there came great warfare to Europe Out of the Asian land . . . The tragic poets, too, let us know the pivot of their play; if not at the outset like Euripides, at least somewhere in the prologue like Sophocles;
126 127

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Text uncertain. Iliad I 1, Odyssey I 1.

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and so in comedy. This, then, is the most essential function and distinctive property of the introduction, to show what the aim of the speech is; and therefore no introduction ought to be employed where the subject is not long or intricate. The other kinds of introduction employed are remedial in purpose, and may be used in any type of speech. They are concerned with the speaker, the hearer, the subject, or the speakers opponent. Those concerned with the speaker himself or with his opponent are directed to removing or exciting prejudice. But whereas the defendant will begin by dealing with this sort of thing, the prosecutor will take quite another line and deal with such matters in the closing part of his speech. The reason for this is not far to seek. The defendant, when he is going to bring himself on the stage, must clear away any obstacles, and therefore must begin by removing any prejudice felt against him. But if you are to excite prejudice, you must do so at the close, so that the judges may more easily remember what you have said. The appeal to the hearer aims at securing his goodwill, and sometimes at gaining his serious attention to the casefor gaining it is not always an advantage, and speakers will often for that reason try to make him laugh. You may use any means you choose to make your hearer receptive; among others, giving him a good impression of your character, which always helps to secure his attention. He will be ready to attend to anything that touches himself, and to anything that is important, surprising, or agreeable; and you should accordingly convey to him the impression that what you have to say is of this nature. If you wish to distract his attention, you should imply that the subject does not affect him, or is trivial or disagreeable. But observe, all this has nothing to do with the speech itself. It merely has to do with the weak-minded tendency of the hearer to listen to what is beside the point. Where this tendency is absent, no introduction is wanted beyond a summary statement of your subject, to put a sort of head on the main body of your speech. Moreover, calls for attention, when required, may come equally well in any part of a speech; in fact, the beginning of it is just where there is least slackness of interest; it is therefore ridiculous to put this kind of thing at the beginning, when every one is listening with most attention. Choose therefore any point in the speech where such an appeal is needed, and then say Now I beg you to note this pointit concerns you quite as much as myself; or I will tell you that whose like you have never yet heard for terroror for wonder. This is what Prodicus called slipping in a bit of the fty-drachma show-lecture
128

Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.

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for the audience whenever they began to nod. It is plain that such introductions are addressed not to ideal hearers, but to hearers as we nd them. The use of introductions to excite prejudice or to dispel misgivings is universal. [[My lord, I will not say that eagerly . . . or Why all this preface?]]129 Introductions are popular with those whose case is weak, or looks weak; it pays them to dwell on anything rather than the actual facts of it. That is why slaves, instead of answering the questions put to them, make indirect replies with long preambles. The means of exciting in your hearers goodwill and various other feelings of the same kind have already been described. The poet nely says May I nd in Phaeacian hearts, at my coming, goodwill and compassion;130 and these are the two things we should aim at. In speeches of display we must make the hearer feel that the eulogy includes either himself or his family or his way of life or something or other of the kind. For it is true, as Socrates says in the Funeral Speech, that the difculty is not to praise the Athenians at Athens but at Sparta. The introductions of political oratory will be made out of the same materials as those of the forensic kind, though the nature of political oratory makes them very rare. The subject is known already, and therefore the facts of the case need no introduction; but you may have to say something on account of yourself or your opponents; or those present may be inclined to treat the matter either more or less seriously than you wish them to. You may accordingly have to excite or dispel some prejudice, or to make the matter under discussion seem more or less important than before: for either of which purposes you will want an introduction. You may also want one to add elegance to your remarks, feeling that otherwise they will have a casual air, like Gorgias eulogy of the Eleans, in which, without any preliminary sparring or fencing, he begins straight off with Happy city of Elis! 15 In dealing with prejudice, one class of argument is that whereby you can
Sophocles, Antigone 223; Euripides, Iphigenia at Tauris 1162. Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself. 130 Odyssey VI 327.
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dispel objectionable suppositions about yourself. It makes no practical difference whether such a supposition has been put into words or not, so that this distinction may be ignored. Another commonplace is to meet any of the issues directly: to deny the alleged fact: or to say that you have done no harm, or none to him, or not as much as he says; or that you have done him no injustice, or not much; or that you have done nothing disgraceful, or nothing disgraceful enough to matter: these are the sort of questions on which the dispute hinges. Thus Iphicrates, replying to Nausicrates, admitted that he had done the deed alleged, and that he had done Nausicrates harm, but not that he had done him wrong. Or you may admit the wrong, but balance it with other facts, and say that, if the deed harmed him, at any rate it was honourable; or that, if it gave him pain, at least it did him good; or something else like that. Another commonplace is to allege that your action was due to mistake, or bad luck, or necessityas Sophocles said he was not trembling, as his traducer maintained, in order to make people think him an old man, but because he could not help it; he would rather not be eighty years old. You may balance your motive against your actual deed; saying, for instance, that you did not mean to injure him but to do so-and-so; that you did not do what you are falsely charged with doingthe damage was accidentalI should indeed be a detestable person if I had deliberately intended this result. Another way is open when your calumniator, or any of his connexions, is or has been subject to the same grounds for suspicion. Yet another, when others are subject to the same grounds for suspicion but are admitted to be in fact innocent of the charge: e.g. Must I be an adulterer because I am well-groomed? Then so-and-so must be one too. Another, if other people have been calumniated by the same man or some one else, or, without being calumniated, have been suspected, like yourself now, and yet have been proved innocent. Another way is to return calumny for calumny and say, It is monstrous to trust the mans statements when you cannot trust the man himself. Another is when the question has been already decided. So with Euripides reply to Hygiaenon, who, in the action for an exchange of properties, accused him of impiety in having written a line encouraging perjury My tongue hath sworn: no oath is on my soul.131 Euripides said that his opponent himself was guilty in bringing into the lawcourts cases whose decision belonged to the Dionysiac contests. If I have not already answered for my words there, I am ready to do so if you choose to prosecute me there. Another method is to denounce calumny, showing what an enormity
131

Euripides, Hippolytus 612.

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it is, and in particular that it raises false issues, and that it means a lack of condence in the merits of the case. The argument from evidential circumstances is available for both parties: thus in the Teucer Odysseus says that Teucer is closely bound to Priam, since his mother Hesione was Priams sister. Teucer replies that Telamon his father was Priams enemy, and that he himself did not betray the spies to Priam. Another method, suitable for the calumniator, is to praise some triing merit at great length, and then attack some important failing concisely; or after mentioning a number of good qualities to attack one bad one that really bears on the question. This is the method of thoroughly skilful and unscrupulous prosecutors. By mixing up the mans merits with what is bad, they do their best to make use of them to damage him. There is another method open to both calumniator and apologist. Since a given action can be done from many motives, the former must try to disparage it by selecting the worse motive of two, the latter to put the better construction on it. Thus one might argue that Diomedes chose Odysseus as his companion because he supposed Odysseus to be the best man for the purpose; and you might reply to this that it was, on the contrary, because he was the only hero so worthless that Diomedes need not fear his rivalry. 16 We may now pass from the subject of calumny to that of narration. Narration in epideictic oratory is not continuous but intermittent. There must, of course, be some survey of the actions that form the subject-matter of the speech. The speech is a composition containing two parts. One of these is not provided by the orators art, viz. the actions themselves, of which the orator is in no sense author. The other part is provided by his art, namely, the proof (where proof is needed) that the actions were done, the description of their quality or of their extent, or even all these three things together. Now the reason why sometimes it is not desirable to make the whole narrative continuous is that the case thus expounded is hard to keep in mind. Show, therefore, from one set of facts that your hero is, e.g. brave, and from other sets of facts that he is able, just, etc. A speech thus arranged is comparatively simple, instead of being complicated and elaborate. You will have to recall well-known deeds among others; and because they are well-known, the hearer usually needs no narration of them; none, for instance, if your object is the praise of Achilles; we all know the facts of his life what you have to do is to apply those facts. But if your object is the praise of Critias, you must narrate his deeds, which not many people know of . . .132 Nowadays it is said, absurdly enough, that the narration should be rapid. Re132

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member what the man said to the baker who asked whether he was to make the cake hard or soft: What, cant you make it right? Just so here. We are not to make long narrations, just as we are not to make long introductions or long arguments. Here, again, rightness does not consist either in rapidity or in conciseness, but in the happy mean; that is, in saying just so much as will make the facts plain, or will lead the hearer to believe that the thing has happened, or that the man has caused injury or wrong to some one, or that the facts are really as important as you wish them to be thought: or the opposite facts to establish the opposite arguments. You may also narrate as you go anything that does credit to yourself, e.g. I kept telling him to do his duty and not abandon his children; or discredit to your adversary, e.g. But he answered me that, wherever he might nd himself, there he would nd other children, the answer Herodotus133 records of the Egyptian mutineers. Slip in anything else that the judges will enjoy. The defendant will make less of the narration. He has to maintain that the thing has not happened, or did no harm, or was not unjust, or not so bad as is alleged. He must therefore not waste time about what is admitted fact, unless this bears on his own contention; e.g. that the thing was done, but was not wrong. Further, we must speak of events as past and gone, except where they excite pity or indignation by being represented as present. The story told to Alcinous is an example of a brief chronicle, when it is repeated to Penelope in sixty lines. Another instance is the epic cycle as treated by Phayllus, and the prologue to the Oeneus. The narration should depict character; to which end you must know what makes it do so. One such thing is the indication of choice; the quality of purpose indicated determines the quality of character depicted and is itself determined by the end pursued. Thus it is that mathematical discourses depict no character; they have nothing to do with choice, for they represent nobody as pursuing any end. On the other hand, the Socratic dialogues do depict character. This end will also be gained by describing the manifestations of various types of character, e.g. he kept walking along as he talked, which shows the mans recklessness and rough manners. Do not let your words seem inspired so much by intelligence, in the manner now current, as by choice: e.g. I willed this; aye, it was my choice; true, I gained nothing by it, still it is better thus. For the other way shows good sense, but this shows good character; good sense making us go after what is useful, and good character after what is noble. Where any detail may appear incredible, then add the cause of it; of this Sophocles provides an example in the Antigone, where Antigone says she had cared more for her brother than for husband or children,
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II 30.

RHETORIC: BOOK III since if the latter perished they might be replaced, But since my father and mother in their graves Lie dead, no brother can be born to me.134

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If you have no such cause to suggest, just say that you are aware that no one will believe your words, but the fact remains that such is your nature, however hard the world may nd it to believe that a man deliberately does anything except what pays him. Again, you must make use of the emotions. Relate the familiar manifestations of them, and those that distinguish yourself and your opponent; for instance, he went away scowling at me. So Aeschines described Cratylus as hissing with fury and shaking his sts. These details carry conviction: the audience take the truth of what they know as so much evidence for the truth of what they do not. Plenty of such details may be found in Homer: Thus did she say: but the old woman buried her face in her hands:135 a true touchpeople beginning to cry do put their hands over their eyes. Bring yourself on the stage from the rst in the right character, that people may regard you in that light; and the same with your adversary; but do not let them see what you are about. How easily such impressions may be conveyed we can see from the way in which we get some inkling of things we know nothing of by the mere look of the messenger bringing news of them. Have some narrative in many different parts of your speech; and sometimes let there be none at the beginning of it. In political oratory there is very little opening for narration; nobody can narrate what has not yet happened. If there is narration at all, it will be of past events, the recollection of which is to help the hearers to make better plans for the future. [[Or it may be employed to attack someones character, or to eulogize him.]]136 Only then you will not be doing what the political speaker, as such, has to do. If any statement you make is hard to believe, you must guarantee its truth, and at once offer an explanation, and then furnish it with such particulars as will be expected. Thus Carcinus Jocasta, in his Oedipus, keeps guaranteeing the truth
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Sophocles, Antigone 911-2. Odyssey XIX 361. 136 Marked by Kassel as a later addition by Aristotle himself.
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of her answers to the inquiries of the man who is seeking her son; and so with Haemon in Sophocles.
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17 The duty of the arguments is to attempt demonstrative proofs. These proofs must bear directly upon the question in dispute, which must fall under one of our heads. If you maintain that the act was not committed, your main task in court is to prove this. If you maintain that the act did no harm, prove this. If you maintain that the act was less than is alleged, or justied, prove these facts in the same way. If the dispute is about whether the act took place, do not forget that in this sort of dispute alone is it true that one of the two parties is necessarily a rogue. Here ignorance cannot be pleaded, as it might if the dispute were whether the act was justied or not. This argument must therefore be used in this case only, not in the others. In epideictic speeches you will develop your case mainly by arguing that what has been done is, e.g., noble and useful. The facts themselves are to be taken on trust; proof of them is only submitted on those rare occasions when they are not easily credible or when they have been set down to some one else. In political speeches you may maintain that a proposal is impracticable; or that, though practicable, it is unjust, or will do no good, or is not so important as its proposer thinks. Note any falsehoods about irrelevant mattersthey will look like proof that his other statements also are false. Argument by example is highly suitable for political oratory, argument by enthymeme better suits forensic. Political oratory deals with future events, of which it can do no more than quote past events as examples. Forensic oratory deals with what is or is not now true, which can better be demonstrated, because not contingentthere is no contingency in what has now already happened. Do not use a continuous succession of enthymemes: intersperse them with other matter, or they will spoil one anothers effect. There are limits to their number Friend, you have spoken as much as a sensible man would have spoken137 as much says Homer, not as well. Nor should you try to make enthymemes on every point; if you do, you will be acting just like some students of philosophy, whose conclusions are more familiar and believable than the premisses from which they draw them. And avoid the enthymeme form when you are trying to rouse feeling; for it will either kill the feeling or will itself fall at: all simultaneous motions tend to cancel each other either completely or partially. Nor
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Odyssey IV 204.

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should you go after the enthymeme form in a passage where you are depicting characterthe process of demonstration can express neither character nor choice. Maxims should be employed in the argumentsand in the narration toosince these do express character: I have given him this, though I am quite aware that one should Trust no man. Or if you are appealing to the emotions: I do not regret it, though I have been wronged; if he has the prot on his side, I have justice on mine. Political oratory is a more difcult task than forensic; and naturally so, since it deals with the future, whereas the pleader deals with the past, which, as Epimenides of Crete said, even the diviners already know. (Epimenides did not practise divination about the future; only about the obscurities of the past.) Besides, in forensic oratory you have a basis in the law; and once you have a starting-point, you can prove anything with comparative ease. Then again, political oratory affords few chances for those leisurely digressions in which you may attack your adversary, talk about yourself, or work on your hearers emotions; fewer chances, indeed, than any other affords, unless your set purpose is to divert your hearers attention. Accordingly, if you nd yourself in difculties, follow the lead of the Athenian speakers, and that of Isocrates, who makes regular attacks upon people in the course of a political speech, e.g. upon the Lacedaemonians in the Panegyricus, and upon Chares in the speech about the allies. In epideictic oratory, intersperse your speech with bits of episodic eulogy, like Isocrates, who is always bringing someone forward for this purpose. And this is what Gorgias meant by saying that he always found something to talk about. For if he speaks of Achilles, he praises Peleus, then Aeacus, then Zeus; and in like manner the virtue of valour, describing its good results, and saying what it is like. Now if you have proofs to bring forward, bring them forward, and also talk about character; if you have no enthymemes, then fall back on character: after all, it is more tting for a good man to display himself as an honest fellow than as a subtle reasoner. Refutative enthymemes are more popular than demonstrative ones: their logical cogency is more striking: the facts about two opposites always stand out clearly when the two are put side by side. The reply to the opponent is not a separate division of the speech but part of the arguments. Both in political speaking and when pleading in court, if you are the rst speaker you should put your own arguments forward rst, and then meet the arguments on the other side by refuting them and pulling them to pieces beforehand. If, however, the case for the other side contains a great variety of arguments, begin with these, like Callistratus in the Messenian assembly, when he demolished the arguments likely to be used against him before giving his own.

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If you speak later, you must rst, by means of refutation and counter-deduction, attempt some answer to your opponents speech, especially if his arguments have been well received. For just as our minds refuse a favourable reception to a person against whom they are prejudiced, so they refuse it to a speech when they have been favourably impressed by the speech on the other side. You should, therefore, make room in the minds of the audience for your coming speech; and this will be done by getting your opponents speech out of the way. So attack that rsteither the whole of it, or the most important, successful, or vulnerable points in it, and thus inspire condence in what you have to say yourself First, champion will I be of Goddesses. . . Never, I ween, would Hera. . .138 where the speaker has attacked the silliest argument rst. So much for the arguments. With regard to the element of character: there are assertions which, if made about yourself, may excite dislike, appear tedious, or expose you to the risk of contradiction; and other things which you cannot say about your opponent without seeming abusive or ill-bred. Put such remarks, therefore, into the mouth of some third person. This is what Isocrates does in the Philippus and in the Antidosis, and Archilochus in his satires. The latter represents the father himself as attacking his daughter in the lampoon Think nought impossible at all, Nor swear that it shall not befall. . .139 and puts into the mouth of Charon the carpenter the lampoon which begins Not for the wealth of Gyges. . . .140 So too Sophocles makes Haemon appeal to his father on behalf of Antigone as if it were others who were speaking. Again, sometimes you should restate your enthymemes in the form of maxims; e.g. Wise men will come to terms in the hour of success; for they will gain most if they do. Expressed as an enthymeme, this would run, If we ought to come to terms when doing so will enable us to gain the greatest advantage, then we ought to come to terms in the hour of success. 18 Next as to interrogation. The best moment to employ this is when your
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Euripides, Troades 969-71. Frag. 122 West. 140 Frag. 19 West.

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opponent has so answered one question that the putting of just one more lands him in absurdity. Thus Pericles questioned Lampon about the way of celebrating the rites of the Saviour Goddess. Lampon declared that no uninitiated person could be told of them. Pericles then asked, Do you know them yourself? Yes, answered Lampon. Why, said Pericles, how can that be, when you are uninitiated? Another good moment is when one premiss of an argument is obviously true, and you can see that your opponent must say yes if you ask him whether the other is true. Having rst got this answer about the other, do not go on to ask him about the obviously true one, but just state the conclusion yourself. Thus, when Meletus denied that Socrates believed in the existence of gods, Socrates proceeded to ask whether supernatural beings were not either children of the gods or in some way divine? Yes, said Meletus, Then, replied Socrates, is there any one who believes in the existence of children of the gods and yet not in the existence of the gods themselves?141 Another good occasion is when you expect to show that your opponent is contradicting either his own words or what everyone believes. A fourth is when it is impossible for him to meet your question except by an evasive answer. If he answers True, and yet not true, or Partly true and partly not true, or True in one sense but not in another, the audience thinks he is in difculties, and applauds his discomture. In other cases do not attempt interrogation; for if your opponent gets in an objection, you are felt to have been worsted. You cannot ask a series of questions owing to the incapacity of the audience to follow them; and for this reason you should also make your enthymemes as compact as possible. In replying, you must meet ambiguous questions by drawing reasonable distinctions, not by a curt answer. In meeting questions that seem to involve you in a contradiction, offer the explanation at the outset of your answer, before your opponent asks the next question or draws his conclusion. For it is not difcult to see the drift of his argument in advance. This point, however, as well as the various means of refutation, may be regarded as known to us from the Topics. When your opponent in drawing his conclusion puts it in the form of a question, you must justify your answer. Thus when Sophocles was asked by Peisander whether he had, like the other members of the Board of Safety, voted for setting up the Four Hundred, he said Yes. Why, did you not think it wicked?Yes. So you committed this wickedness?Yes, said Sophocles, for there was nothing better to do. Again, the Lacedaemonian, when he was being examined on his conduct as ephor, was asked whether he thought that the other ephors had been
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Plato, Apology 27C.

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justly put to death. Yes, he said. Well then, asked his opponent, did not you propose the same measures as they?Yes.Well then, would not you too be justly put to death?Not at all, said he; they were bribed to do it, and I did it from conviction. Hence you should not ask any further questions after drawing the conclusion, nor put the conclusion itself in the form of a further question, unless there is a large balance of truth on your side. As to jests. These are supposed to be of some service in controversy. Gorgias said that you should kill your opponents earnestness with jesting and their jesting with earnestness; in which he was right. Jests have been classied in the Poetics. Some are becoming to a gentleman, others are not; see that you choose such as become you. Irony better bets a gentleman than buffoonery; the ironical man jokes to amuse himself, the buffoon to amuse other people. 19 The epilogue has four parts. You must make the audience well-disposed towards yourself and ill-disposed towards your opponent, magnify or minimize the leading facts, excite the required state of emotion in your hearers, and refresh their memories. Having shown your own truthfulness and the untruthfulness of your opponent, the natural thing is to commend yourself, censure him, and hammer home your points. You must aim at one of two objectsyou must make yourself out a good man and him a bad one either in yourselves or in relation to your hearers. The commonplaces by which this should be established have been stated. The facts having been proved, the natural thing to do next is to magnify or minimize their importance. The facts must be admitted before you can discuss how important they are; just as the body cannot grow except from something already present. The proper commonplaces to be used for this purpose of amplication and depreciation have already been set forth. Next, when the facts and their importance are clearly understood, you must excite your hearers emotions. These emotions are pity, indignation, anger, hatred, envy, emulation, pugnacity. The commonplaces to be used for these purposes also have been previously mentioned. Finally you have to review what you have already said. Here you may properly do what some wrongly recommend doing in the introductionrepeat your points frequently so as to make them easily understood. What you should do in your introduction is to state your subject, in order that the point to be judged may be quite plain; in the epilogue you should summarize the arguments by which your case has been proved. The rst step in this reviewing process is to observe that you have done what you undertook to do. You must, then, state what you have

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said and why you have said it. Your method may be a comparison of your own case with that of your opponent; and you may compare the ways you have both handled the same point or make your comparison direct: My opponent said soand-so on this point; I said so-and-so, and this is why I said it. Or with modest irony, e.g. He certainly said so-and-so, but I said so-and-so. Or How vain he would have been if he had proved all this instead of that! Or put it in the form of a question, What has not been proved by me? or What has my opponent proved? You may proceed, then, either in this way by setting point against point, or by following the natural order of the arguments as spoken, rst giving your own, and then separately, if you wish those of your opponent. For the conclusion, the disconnected style of language is appropriate, and will mark the difference between the oration and the peroration. I have done. You have heard me. The facts are before you. I ask for your judgement.

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RHETORIC TO ALEXANDER
Aristotle

The Complete Works of Aristotle

Electronic markup by Jamie L. Spriggs InteLex Corporation P.O. Box 859, Charlottesville, Virginia, 22902-0859, USA Available via ftp or on Macintosh or DOS CD-ROM from the publisher.

Complete Works (Aristotle). Jonathan Barnes, Princeton University Press, Princeton, N.J. 1991.

These texts are part of the Past Masters series. This series is an attempt to collect the most important texts in the history of philosophy, both in original language and English translation (if the original language is other English). All Greek has been transliterated and is delimited with the term tag.

May 1996 Jamie L. Spriggs, InteLex Corp. publisher Converted from Folio Flat File to TEI.2-compatible SGML; checked against print text; parsed against local teilite dtd.

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ARISTOTLE THE REVISED OXFORD TRANSLATION Edited by JONATHAN BARNES VOLUME TWO BOLLINGEN SERIES LXXI 2 PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS Copyright 1984 by The Jowett Copyright Trustees Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William St., Princeton, New Jersey In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, Oxford No part of this electronic edition may be printed without written permission from The Jowett Copyright Trustees and Princeton University Press. All Rights Reserved THIS IS PART TWO OF THE SEVENTY-FIRST IN A SERIES OF WORKS SPONSORED BY BOLLINGEN FOUNDATION Printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey Second Printing, 1985 Fourth Printing, 1991 987654

Contents
Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . Note to the Reader . . . . . . . . RHETORIC TO ALEXANDER** . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii v vi 2

PREFACE
BENJAMIN JOWETT1 published his translation of Aristotles Politics in 1885, and he nursed the desire to see the whole of Aristotle done into English. In his will he left the perpetual copyright on his writings to Balliol College, desiring that any royalties should be invested and that the income from the investment should be applied in the rst place to the improvement or correction of his own books, and secondly to the making of New Translations or Editions of Greek Authors. In a codicil to the will, appended less than a month before his death, he expressed the hope that the translation of Aristotle may be nished as soon as possible. The Governing Body of Balliol duly acted on Jowetts wish: J. A. Smith, then a Fellow of Balliol and later Waynete Professor of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, and W. D. Ross, a Fellow of Oriel College, were appointed as general editors to supervise the project of translating all of Aristotles writings into English; and the College came to an agreement with the Delegates of the Clarendon Press for the publication of the work. The rst volume of what came to be known as The Oxford Translation of Aristotle appeared in 1908. The work continued under the joint guidance of Smith and Ross, and later under Rosss sole editorship. By 1930, with the publication of the eleventh volume, the whole of the standard corpus aristotelicum had been put into English. In 1954 Ross added a twelfth volume, of selected fragments, and thus completed the task begun almost half a century earlier. The translators whom Smith and Ross collected together included the most eminent English Aristotelians of the age; and the translations reached a remarkable standard of scholarship and delity to the text. But no translation is perfect, and all translations date: in 1976, the Jowett Trustees, in whom the copyright of the Translation lies, determined to commission a revision of the entire text. The Oxford Translation was to remain in substance its original self; but alterations were to be made, where advisable, in the light of recent scholarship and with the requirements of modern readers in mind. The present volumes thus contain a revised Oxford Translation: in all but three treatises, the original versions have been conserved with only mild emendations.
The text of Aristotle: The Complete Works is The Revised Oxford Translation of The Complete Works of Aristotle, edited by Jonathan Barnes, and published by Princeton University Press in 1984. Each reference line contains the approximate Bekker number range of the paragraph if the work in question was included in the Bekker edition.
1

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iii

(The three exceptions are the Categories and de Interpretatione, where the translations of J. L. Ackrill have been substituted for those of E. M. Edgehill, and the Posterior Analytics, where G. R. G. Mures version has been replaced by that of J. Barnes. The new translations have all been previously published in the Clarendon Aristotle series.) In addition, the new Translation contains the tenth book of the History of Animals, and the third book of the Economics, which were not done for the original Translation; and the present selection from the fragments of Aristotles lost works includes a large number of passages which Ross did not translate. In the original Translation, the amount and scope of annotation differed greatly from one volume to the next: some treatises carried virtually no footnotes, others (notably the biological writings) contained almost as much scholarly commentary as textthe work of Ogle on the Parts of Animals or of dArcy Thompson on the History of Animals, Beares notes to On Memory or Joachims to On Indivisible Lines, were major contributions to Aristotelian scholarship. Economy has demanded that in the revised Translation annotation be kept to a minimum; and all the learned notes of the original version have been omitted. While that omission represents a considerable impoverishment, it has reduced the work to a more manageable bulk, and at the same time it has given the constituent translations a greater uniformity of character. It might be added that the revision is thus closer to Jowetts own intentions than was the original Translation. The revisions have been slight, more abundant in some treatises than in others but amounting, on the average, to some fty alterations for each Bekker page of Greek. Those alterations can be roughly classied under four heads. (i) A quantity of work has been done on the Greek text of Aristotle during the past half century: in many cases new and better texts are now available, and the reviser has from time to time emended the original Translation in the light of this research. (But he cannot claim to have made himself intimate with all the textual studies that recent scholarship has thrown up.) A standard text has been taken for each treatise, and the few departures from it, where they affect the sense, have been indicated in footnotes. On the whole, the reviser has been conservative, sometimes against his inclination. (ii) There are occasional errors or infelicities of translation in the original version: these have been corrected insofar as they have been observed. (iii) The English of the original Translation now seems in some respects archaic in its vocabulary and in its syntax: no attempt has been made to impose a consistently modern style upon the translations, but where archaic English might mislead the modern reader, it has been replaced by more current idiom.

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(iv) The fourth class of alterations accounts for the majority of changes made by the reviser. The original Translation is often paraphrastic: some of the translators used paraphrase freely and deliberately, attempting not so much to English Aristotles Greek as to explain in their own words what he was intending to conveythus translation turns by slow degrees into exegesis. Others construed their task more narrowly, but even in their more modest versions expansive paraphrase from time to time intrudes. The revision does not pretend to eliminate paraphrase altogether (sometimes paraphrase is venial; nor is there any precise boundary between translation and paraphrase); but it does endeavor, especially in the logical and philosophical parts of the corpus, to replace the more blatantly exegetical passages of the original by something a little closer to Aristotles text. The general editors of the original Translation did not require from their translators any uniformity in the rendering of technical and semitechnical terms. Indeed, the translators themselves did not always strive for uniformity within a single treatise or a single book. Such uniformity is surely desirable; but to introduce it would have been a massive task, beyond the scope of this revision. Some effort has, however, been made to remove certain of the more capricious variations of translation (especially in the more philosophical of Aristotles treatises). Nor did the original translators try to mirror in their English style the style of Aristotles Greek. For the most part, Aristotle is terse, compact, abrupt, his arguments condensed, his thought dense. For the most part, the Translation is owing and expansive, set out in well-rounded periods and expressed in a language which is usually literary and sometimes orotund. To that extent the Translation produces a false impression of what it is like to read Aristotle in the original; and indeed it is very likely to give a misleading idea of the nature of Aristotles philosophizing, making it seem more polished and nished than it actually is. In the revisers opinion, Aristotles sinewy Greek is best translated into correspondingly tough English; but to achieve that would demand a new translation, not a revision. No serious attempt has been made to alter the style of the originala style which, it should be said, is in itself elegant enough and pleasing to read. The reviser has been aided by several friends; and he would like to acknowledge in particular the help of Mr. Gavin Lawrence and Mr. Donald Russell. He remains acutely conscious of the numerous imperfections that are left. Yetas Aristotle himself would have put itthe work was laborious, and the reader must forgive the reviser for his errors and give him thanks for any improvements which he may chance to have effected. March 1981 J. B.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE TRANSLATIONS of the Categories and the de Interpretatione are reprinted here by permission of Professor J. L. Ackrill and Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1963); the translation of the Posterior Analytics is reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1975); the translation of the third book of the Economics is reprinted by permission of The Loeb Classical Library (William Heinemann and Harvard University Press); the translation of the fragments of the Protrepticus is based, with the authors generous permission, on the version by Professor Ingemar D uring.

NOTE TO THE READER

THE TRADITIONAL corpus aristotelicum contains several works which were certainly or probably not written by Aristotle. A single asterisk against the title of a work indicates that its authenticity has been seriously doubted; a pair of asterisks indicates that its spuriousness has never been seriously contested. These asterisks appear both in the Table of Contents and on the title pages of the individual works concerned. The title page of each work contains a reference to the edition of the Greek text against which the translation has been checked. References are by editors name, series or publisher (OCT stands for Oxford Classical Texts), and place and date of publication. In those places where the translation deviates from the chosen text and prefers a different reading in the Greek, a footnote marks the fact and indicates which reading is preferred; such places are rare. The numerals printed in the outer margins key the translation to Immanuel Bekkers standard edition of the Greek text of Aristotle of 1831. References consist of a page number, a column letter, and a line number. Thus 1343a marks column one of page 1343 of Bekkers edition; and the following 5, 10, 15, etc. stand against lines 5, 10, 15, etc. of that column of text. Bekker references of this type are found in most editions of Aristotles works, and they are used by all scholars who write about Aristotle.

RHETORIC TO ALEXANDER**

RHETORIC TO ALEXANDER**
Translated by E. S. Forster2 [Aristotle to Alexander. Salutation. You write that you have often sent persons to me to urge upon me the project of noting down for you the principles of public speaking. It is not through indifference that I have put off doing so all this time, but because I was seeking how to write on this subject with more exactitude than any one else who has concerned himself therewith. It was only natural that I should have such an intention; for just as you are desirous to have more splendid raiment than other men, so you ought to strive to attain to a more glorious skill in speech than other men possess. For it is far more honourable and kingly to have the mind well ordered than to see the bodily form well arrayed. For it is absurd that one who in deeds excels all men should in words manifestly fall short of ordinary mortals, especially when he knows full well that, whereas among those whose political constitution is democracy the nal appeal on all matters is to the law, among those who are under kingly rule the appeal is to reason. Just as their public law always directs self-governing communities along the best path, so might reason, as embodied in you, guide along the path of their advantage those who are subject to your rule. For law can be simply described as reason dened by the common consent of the community, regulating action of every kind. Furthermore, I think that you are well aware that we praise as good men and true those who employ reason and prefer always to act under its guidance, while we abhor as savage and brutish those who act in any matter without reason. It is for this reason too that we punish wicked men when they show their wickedness and admire the good when they display their excellence.
2 3

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TEXT: M. Fuhrmann, Anaximenis Ars Rhetorica, Teubner, Leipzig, 1966 Fuhrmann brackets the introduction as a later addition.

RHETORIC TO ALEXANDER

Thus we have discovered a means of preventing possible wickedness, while we enjoy the benets of existing goodness. In this way we escape annoyances which threaten us and secure advantages which we did not previously possess. Just as a life free from pain is an object of desire, so is wise reason an object of contentment. Again, you must realize that the model set before most men is either the law or else your life and your reason. In order therefore that you may excel all Greeks and barbarians, you must exert yourself to the utmost, so that those who spend their lives in these pursuits, using the elements of excellence in them to produce a beauteous copy of the model thus set before them, may not direct themselves towards ignoble ends but make it their desire to partake in the same excellence. Moreover, deliberation is the most divine of human activities. Therefore you must not waste your energies on subordinate and worthless pursuits, but desire to drink at the very fountain-head of good counsel. For what man of sense could doubt that, while it is a sign of foolishness to act without deliberation, it is the mark of true culture to accomplish under the guidance of reason anything that reason commands? It is plain to see that all the greatest politicians of Greece resort to reason rst and then to deeds, and further that those who have won the highest repute among the barbarians have employed reason before action, knowing full well that the consideration of expediency by the light of reason is a very citadel of salvation. It is reason which we must regard as an impregnable citadel, and not look on any fortress built by man as a sure safeguard. But I hesitate to say another word, lest I should seem to be writing for effect, bringing forward proofs of facts which are fully known as though they were not generally admitted. I will therefore say no more, after mentioning only one topic, in enlarging on which one might spend ones whole life, namely, that reason is the thing wherein we are superior to all other animals; and we who have received the highest honour which heaven can bestow will have this above other men. For all animals display the appetites and desire and the like, but none save man possesses reason. Now it would be most strange if, when it is by virtue of reason alone that we live happier lives than all other animals, we should through indifference despise and renounce that which is the cause of our well-being. Though you have long been exhorted thereto, I urge you to embrace with the utmost zeal the study of reasoned speech. For just as health preserves the body, so is education the recognized preserver of the mind. Under its guidance you will never take a false step in anything that you do, but you will keep safe practically all the advantages which you already possess. Moreover, if physical sight is a pleasure, to see clearly with the eyes of the soul is a thing to be admired. Again, as the general is the

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saviour of his army, so is reason, allied with education, the guide of life. These, then, and like sentiments I think I may well dismiss at the present moment. In your letter you urge me not to let this book fall into other hands than yours, and this knowing full well that, just as parents love their own offspring more than supposititious children, so those who have invented something have more affection for it than those to whom the discovery is merely imparted. For men have died in defence of their words, as they have died for their offspring. For the so-called Parian sophists, because what they teach is not of their own production, in their gross indifference feel no affection and barter it away for money. For this reason I exhort you to watch over these precepts, that while they are yet young they may be corrupted by no moneys, and, sharing in your well-ordered life, when they come to mans estate, may win unsullied glory. Following the lesson taught by Nicanor, we have adopted from other authors anything on the same subjects which was particularly well expressed in their treatises. You will nd two such books, one of which is my own, viz. the Oratorical Art which I wrote for Theodectes, while the other is the treatise of Corax. The other points connected with public and forensic exhortations have all been dealt with specially in these treatises. So in these commentaries written expressly for you you will nd material for amplifying these two treatises. Farewell.] 1 Public speeches fall into three classes, deliberative, epideictic, and forensic. They are of seven kinds, being employed in persuasion, dissuasion, eulogy, vituperation, accusation, defence, and inquiry either by itself or in relation to something else. Such are the different kinds of discourses and their number. We shall employ them in public harangues, in lawsuits about contracts, and in private conversation. We shall treat of them most conveniently if we take them each separately and enumerate their qualities, their uses, and their actions. And rst let us discuss persuasion and dissuasion, since they are used most of all in private conversations and in public harangues. To speak generally, persuasion is an exhortation to some choice or speech or action, while dissuasion is the prevention of some choice or speech or action. Such being the denition of these things, he who persuades must show that those things to which he exhorts are just, lawful, expedient, honourable, pleasant, and easy of accomplishment. Failing that, when he is exhorting to that which is difcult, he must show that it is practicable and that its execution is necessary. He who dissuades, by pursuing the opposite course, must exert a hindering inuence, showing that the proposed action is neither just nor lawful nor expedient nor honourable nor pleasant nor practicable; if he cannot do that, he must urge that it is toilsome and unnecessary. All actions can have both

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these sets of attributes applied to them, so that no-one who can urge one of these two sets of fundamental qualities is at a loss for anything to say. It is for these qualities therefore that those who seek to persuade or dissuade must look. I will now attempt to dene them one by one and show whence we shall supply them for our discourses. That which is just is the unwritten custom of all or the majority of men which draws a distinction between what is honourable and what is base. We may take as examples the honouring of parents, doing good to ones friends, and returning good to ones benefactors. These and similar duties are not enjoined upon mankind by written laws, but they are observed by unwritten custom and universal practice. So much for just actions. Law is a common agreement made by the community, which ordains in writing how the citizens ought to act under every kind of circumstance. Expediency is the safeguarding of existing advantages, or the acquisition of those not already possessed, or the riddance of existing disadvantages, or the prevention of harm which threatens to occur. For individuals you can divide up expediency according as it applies to the body or the soul or external possessions. For the body, strength, beauty, and health are expedient; for the soul, courage, wisdom, and justice. External possessions are friends, wealth, and property. The contraries of these are inexpedient. For a community such things as concord, strength for war, wealth, a plentiful supply of revenue, and excellence and abundance of allies are expedient. In a word we look upon anything of this kind as expedient and the contrary as inexpedient. Honourable things are those from which good repute and creditable distinction will accrue to the doers. Pleasant things are those which cause joy. Easy things are those which are accomplished with the least expenditure of time, trouble, and money. Practicable things are all those which admit of performance. Necessary things are those the execution of which does not depend upon us but takes place as it were by some necessity divine or human. Such, then, is the nature of things just, lawful, expedient, honourable, easy, practicable, and necessary. It will be easy to speak about such subjects by the use of the considerations mentioned above and by ones analogous to them and by ones opposed to them and by employing judgements pronounced by the gods or by men or by judges of repute or by our opponents. We have already described the nature of that which is just. The following are cases where there is an analogy to that which is just: As we consider it just to obey parents, on the same principle it behoves sons to imitate the actions of their fathers; or again, As it is just to do good in return to those who do good to us,

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so it is just to abstain from harming those who have done us no ill. It is by this method that we must get analogies to justice. Then we ought to make it plain from contraries in the following way: As it is just to punish those who do us a wrong, so it behoves us to do good in return to our benefactors. You will discover what is just in the judgement of men of repute by a consideration such as the following: Not only do we hate and do harm to our enemies, but the Athenians also and the Lacedaemonians judge that it is just to punish their enemies. By following this system you will often discover what is just. We have already dened the nature of that which is lawful. When it serves our purpose we must introduce the law itself, and any case of analogy to the written law. For example, As the lawgiver punishes thieves with very serious penalties, so we ought to inict heavy chastisement on those who deceive, for they steal away the understanding; or again, Just as the lawgiver has made the nearest relatives the heirs of those who die childless, so I ought in the present case to have authority over the possessions of a freedman; for since those who set him free are dead and I am the nearest relative of the deceased persons, I am justied in assuming control over their freedmen. This is an example of the way in which an analogy to that which is ordained by law is obtained. The following is an illustration of what is contrary to that which is lawful: If the law prohibits the distribution of public property, it was clearly the judgement of the lawgiver that all who divide up such property are doing wrong; for if the laws ordain that those who govern the state well and justly should be honoured, they clearly regard those who make away with public property as deserving of punishment. The nature of the lawful is thus clearly shown by taking cases of the contrary. It can be demonstrated from previous judgements by a consideration such as this: Not only do I hold that the lawgiver made this law to cover such cases as these, but on a former occasion, when Lysithidas gave an explanation similar to that which I am now putting forward, the jury voted in favour of this interpretation of the law. By this method we shall often be able to demonstrate what is lawful. The nature of the expedient itself has already been dened. We must, as in the cases already mentioned, introduce the expedient, wherever it is available, into our arguments and often bring it to light, pursuing the same method which we employed for the lawful and the just. The following would be instances of analogies to the expedient: As in war it is expedient to station the bravest men in the front rank, so in the state it is advantageous that the wisest and justest men should be the leaders of the people; or again, As it is expedient for the healthy to be on their guard against disease, so too in communities which live in harmony it is expedient to provide against possibilities of faction. By following this method

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you will be able to make many analogies to the expedient. The expedient will also be clear if you take contrary cases such as the following: If it is advantageous to honour good citizens, it would be expedient also to punish the wicked; or again, If you think it inexpedient that we should make war unaided on the Thebans, it would be expedient to make the Lacedaemonians our allies and then make war on the Thebans. This is the method by which you will demonstrate the expedient by arguing from the contrary. You can discover what has been judged to be expedient by judges of repute by considerations such as the following: The Lacedaemonians, when they had conquered the Athenians, thought it expedient not to enslave their city, and on another occasion the Athenians and Thebans, when it was within their power to depopulate Sparta, thought it expedient to allow the Lacedaemonians to survive. By pursuing this method you will have plenty to say about the just, the lawful, and the expedient. You must employ the same methods in the case of the honourable, the easy, the pleasant, the practicable, and the necessary. We shall thus have abundant material on these topics also. 2 Next let us determine the number and character of the subjects which we discuss in the council-chamber and in the popular assembly. If we have a clear knowledge of these, the actual circumstances will provide us with something appropriate to say on each occasion when we are giving advice. If we have long been familiar with the characteristics common to each class of subject, we shall always be able to apply them readily in practice. We must therefore distinguish the various subjects about which all men hold public deliberation. To sum the matter up, there are seven subjects on which we shall speak in public. For whether we are addressing the council or the people, we must necessarily deliberate and speak about either sacred rites or laws or the political constitution or alliances and contracts with other states or war or peace or the provision of resources. These, then, are the subjects about which we shall deliberate and address the people. Let us take each of them separately and see how they can be treated in a speech. There are three ways in which we must deal with the subject of sacred rites; for we shall urge either that they ought to be retained in their existing form, or that they ought to be changed so as to be more magnicent or else less sumptuous. When we are maintaining that the existing form should be retained, we should derive material from the argument of justice, urging that it is regarded by all men as unjust to transgress the customs of our forefathers, and that all the oracles command men to make their sacrices according to the usages of their forefathers,

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and that it is of the utmost importance that the religious observances should be continued which were prescribed by those who originally founded cities and set up temples to the gods. On the ground of expediency we shall urge that, if the sacrices are offered according to ancestral usage, it will be expedient either for individuals or the community at large in view of the payments of money which will be involved, and that it will benet the citizens by creating a feeling of selfcondence; for if heavy-armed troops, horsemen, and light-armed soldiers join in a religious procession, the citizens, priding themselves on such things, would feel greater condence in themselves. It can be urged on the ground of what is honourable, if it results in the spectacle of splendid festivals4 ; on the ground of pleasure, because a variety in the sacrices to the gods is introduced into the spectacle; and on the ground of practicability, if neither defect nor excess has characterized the celebration. Thus when we are speaking in support of the existing state of affairs, we must pursue our inquiry by the above or similar methods and treat the question under discussion as the nature of the subject permits. When we are advising a change to greater magnicence in the celebration of sacred rites, we shall have a plausible pretext for altering ancestral usages, if we urge that an addition to existing rites involves not their destruction but their extension; again, that it is reasonable to suppose that the gods too are more favourably disposed to those who honour them more; again, that even our fathers used not to perform their sacrices always in the same way, but regulated their service to the gods, both as a community and as private individuals, according to the occasion and their own prosperity; again, that this is a principle which we follow in all other matters in the government of our cities and our private establishments. You must also mention any advantage in brilliance or enjoyment which is likely to result to the city from the alteration, following the methods which we have described above. When we are urging a reduction of the scale of our sacred rites, we must in the rst place direct our remarks to the circumstances of the moment and show in what respect the citizens are less prosperous now than formerly. Next we must show that it is reasonable to suppose that the gods rejoice, not in the costliness of the sacrices, but in the piety of those who offer them; again, that both gods and men deem those who do anything beyond their means to be guilty of great folly; next, that public expenditure is not merely a personal question but depends on prosperity and adversity. These and others of the same kind are the arguments which we shall offer on the subject of sacrices.
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But in order that we may know how to give some indications and offer rules as to the conditions of the ideal sacrice, let us dene it thus: the best sacrice of all is one which is pious towards the gods, moderate in costliness, splendid from a spectacular point of view, and likely to bring advantage in war. It will be pious towards the gods, if ancestral usage is not violated; it will be moderate in costliness, if the accompaniments of the ceremony are not all wasted; it will be splendid from a spectacular point of view, if gold and such things as are not actually consumed are used lavishly; and it will be advantageous for war, if horsemen and infantry in full panoply accompany the procession. By following these rules we shall best provide for the service of the gods. From what has been said above we shall know how to speak in public about the performance of sacred rites of every kind. Let us next deal similarly with laws and the political constitution. Laws may be briey described as common agreements made by the community which dene and ordain in writing how the citizens should act under various circumstances. In democratic states legislation ought to provide for appointment by lot to the less important and the majority of the ofces (for thus faction will be avoided), while the most important magistrates should be elected by the votes of the multitude. In this way the people, having the power to bestow honours on whomsoever they like, will not be jealous of those who obtain them, while the more prominent men will be encouraged to practice virtue, knowing that it will be to their advantage to have a good repute among their fellow-citizens. Such are the laws which ought to be laid down regarding elections in a democratic state. It would be a lengthy task to go into detail about the rest of the administration. But, to put the matter briey, care must be taken that the laws may prevent the multitude from entertaining designs against the possessors of property and may instil into the wealthy citizens an eagerness to spend money in undertaking public burdens. The laws will ensure this if certain distinctions are set aside by law for the owners of property in return for their expenditure in the service of the state, and if the laws show more consideration for the tillers of the soil and the sailors among the poorer classes than for the poor; so that the rich may willingly serve the state, and the people may prefer work to dishonest means of gain. In addition stringent laws must be laid down forbidding the distribution of lands and the conscation of the property of those who have served the state, and heavy penalties must be imposed on those who commit these transgressions. Also public land in a good position in front of the city must be set apart for the burial of those who are killed in war, and their children must be supported at the public expense until they grow up. Such must be the character of legislation in a democratic state. In oligarchical states the laws ought to distribute the magistracies impartially

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to all who possess the rights of citizenship; most of them should be bestowed by lot, but the most important should be assigned by secret vote under oath and with the strictest precautions. Under an oligarchy the penalties inicted on those who offer affronts to any of the citizens ought to be very heavy, for the people are not so much annoyed at being debarred from holding ofce as they are angered at being affronted. Differences between citizens ought to be settled as quickly as possible and not be allowed to continue. Nor ought the lower classes to be allowed to collect from the country into the city; for the result of such assemblages is that the populace unites and overthrows the oligarchy. Speaking generally, in democratic states the laws ought to hinder the populace from entertaining designs on the property of the rich; in oligarchical states they ought to check the possessors of political rights from insulting those who are weaker than themselves and from imposing upon the citizens. From what I have said you will not fail to perceive what aims the laws and political constitution ought to keep in view. Anyone who wishes to speak in favour of a law must show that it affects all equally, that it harmonizes with the rest of the laws, and that it is benecial to the city, particularly in promoting concord; failing this, he must show that it will conduce to virtue among the citizens or that it will benet the public revenue or the good repute of the city as a whole, or that it will strengthen the power of the state, or that it will confer some similar advantage. If you are speaking against a law, you must consider whether it does not apply to all the citizens; and next, whether, so far from agreeing with the other laws, it is actually opposed to them; and further, whether it will conduce to none of the benets which we have mentioned, being on the contrary harmful. These considerations will provide us with abundant arguments for making proposals and speaking about laws and the political constitution. We will now proceed to deal with alliances and contracts with other states. Contracts and arrangements must necessarily be regulated by public agreements. Alliances must be formed on occasions when one party is too weak by itself, or when a war is expected to break out or because they think they will thus prevent certain people from making war. These and a number of similar circumstances are the reasons which induce states to make allies. When you wish to support the formation of an alliance, you must make it clear that the occasion for doing so exists, and show if possible that the proposed allies are just men, and that they have previously conferred some benet upon the state, and that they are possessed of considerable power, and that they are situated near at hand. If all these advantages are not present, you must collect in your speech any of them which do exist. When you are trying to prevent an alliance, it is open

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to you to show in the rst place that it is unnecessary at the moment; or again, that the proposed allies are not just men, or that they have wronged us on a previous occasion. . . .5 Failing that, you can object to them on the ground that they live too far away and are not in a position to help us at the proper moment. With these and similar arguments we shall have abundant material for speaking against and in support of the formation of alliances. Again, on the subject of peace and war let us use a similar method to obtain our chief kinds of argument. The pretexts for making war on another state are as follows: when we have been the victims of aggression, we must take vengeance on those who have wronged us, now that a suitable opportunity has presented itself; or else, when we are actually being wronged, we must go to war on our own behalf or on behalf of our kindred or benefactors; or else we must help our allies when they are wronged; or else we must go to war to gain some advantage for the city, in respect either of glory, or of resources, or of strength, or of something similar. When we are exhorting anyone to go to war we must collect as many of these pretexts as possible, and afterwards show that those whom we are exhorting possess most of the advantages which bring success in warfare. Now men are always successful either by the favour of the gods, which we call good fortune, or through the number and strength of their troops, or through the abundance of their resources or the wisdom of their general or the excellence of their allies, or through their superiority of position. From these, then, and similar advantages we shall select and demonstrate those which are most applicable to the circumstances, when our advice is in favour of war, belittling the points of superiority possessed by the enemy and exaggerating those which we ourselves enjoy. If we are trying to prevent a war which is likely to take place, we must rst of all show either that the pretexts do not exist at all or else that the grievances are small and insignicant; next we must show that it is not expedient to go to war, dwelling on the disasters that befall men in warfare; and further, that the advantages which conduce to victory (which have just been enumerated) are possessed by the enemy rather than by us. These are the means which we must employ to avert a war which is likely to occur. When we are trying to stop a war which has actually started, if those to whom our advice is offered are stronger than their foes, the rst point on which we must insist is that sensible men ought not to wait until they have a fall, but should make peace while they are strong; also, that it is characteristic of war to ruin many even of those who are successful in it, but of peace to save the vanquished and to allow the victorious to enjoy the possessions which they have gained in
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warfare.6 We must also dwell upon the numerous and incalculable vicissitudes of warfare. Such are the methods by which we must exhort to peace those who are victorious in war. Those who have already met with failure we must urge to make peace on the ground of actual events, and because they ought to learn from their misfortunes and not be exasperated by those who have already injured them, and because of the dangers which have already resulted from not making peace, and because it is better to sacrice a part of their possessions to an enemy stronger than themselves than to be conquered and lose their lives as well as their property. And, to put the matter briey, we must realize that it is the universal custom of mankind to abandon mutual warfare, either when they think that the demands of the enemy are just, or when they are at variance with their allies, or weary of war, or afraid of their enemy, or suffering from internal strife. If, therefore, you collect from amongst all these and similar arguments those which are most applicable to the circumstances, you will have no lack of material for speaking about peace and war. Lastly, it remains for us to treat of the provision of resources. First, then, we must inquire whether any property belonging to the city is neglected, neither bringing in any revenue nor being dedicated to the gods: I mean, for example, any public lands which are neglected and might bring in revenue to the city if they were sold or leased to private persons; for this is a very common source of income. If this expedient is lacking, we must impose taxes on rateable property, or order the poor to give their personal service in time of danger, the rich to pay money, and the craftsmen to provide arms. In a word, when we are treating of ways and means, we must say that they affect all the citizens equally and are permanent and ample, while the exact opposite is true of our adversaries proposals. From what has now been said we are acquainted with the subjects on which we shall speak in public, when we are seeking to persuade or dissuade, and with their component parts, which will supply us with the material of our orations. Next in order let us set forth and treat of the eulogistic and the vituperative kinds of oratory. 3 To speak generally, the eulogistic kind is the amplication of creditable choices, deeds, and words, and the attribution of qualities which do not exist; while the vituperative kind is the opposite of this and consists in the minimizing of creditable qualities and the amplication of those which are discreditable. Things worthy of praise are those which are just, lawful, expedient, honourable, pleasant,
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Reading ean hon.

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and easy of execution. The nature of these qualities and the sources from which we can obtain abundant material about them have already been stated. He who is eulogizing must show in his speech that one of these praiseworthy qualities is connected with a certain person because it has either been brought about by his personal exertions, or has been produced through his agency, or has resulted from a certain action of his, or has been done for some object, or could not have come to pass except under certain circumstances which are due to him. Similarly he who is censuring must show that the contrary of this is true of the person whom he is censuring. . . .7 The following are examples of the results of action; bodily health is the result of a fondness for gymnastics; a man falls into ill-health as the result of not caring for exercise, or becomes wiser as the result of studying philosophy, or lacks the necessities of life as the result of his own carelessness. The following are actions done with an object: men endure many toils and dangers with the object of being crowned by their fellow-citizens, or neglect everything else with the object of pleasing those whom they love. Instances of things which can only take place under certain circumstances are the following: victories at sea can only take place when there are sailors to win them, and drunkenness can only occur as the result of drinking. By pursuing this method on the lines already laid down you will have abundant material for eulogy and vituperation. Generally speaking you will be able to amplify and minimize under all such circumstances by the following method: rst, by showing, as I explained just now, that many good or bad results have been caused by a certain persons actions. This is one kind of amplication. A second method is to introduce something judged to be greata great good, if you are eulogizing, and an evil if you are censuringand then set side by side with it what you have to say and compare the two together, making as much as possible of your own case and as little as possible of the other; the result will be that your own case is magnied. A third plan is to compare that about which you are speaking with the least thing which falls under the same category; for the former will then appear magnied, just as persons of moderate height appear taller than they really are when they stand side by side with persons of unusually small stature. The following is another safe method of amplication: if a certain thing has been considered a great good, then its contrary, if you mention it, will appear to be a great evil, and similarly, if a thing is considered to be a great evil, its contrary, if you mention it, will appear to be a great good. You can also magnify good and bad actions by showing that the doer of them acted intentionally, proving that he had long premeditated doing
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them, that he purposed to do them often, that he did them over a long period, that no one else ever tried to do them, that he acted in company with others with whom no one else ever acted, or following those whom no one else ever followed, or that he acted voluntarily or designedly, and that we should be fortunate, or unfortunate, if we all did as he did. You must also prove your point by drawing parallels and amplifying as follows, building them as it were one on the top of another: If a man cares for his friends, it is natural to suppose that he honours his parents, and he who honours his parents will also desire to benet his fatherland. Generally speaking: if you can prove that a man is the cause of many good or bad things, these things will appear to be important. You must also examine the topic on which you are speaking and see whether it appears to have more weight when divided into parts or when treated as a whole, and you must treat it in the manner in which it appears to have more weight. By pursuing these methods you will be able to make the most frequent and effective amplications. You will minimize good and bad things in your speeches by following the opposite method to that which we have prescribed for amplication. The best thing is to show that a mans action has produced no result at all, or, if that is impossible, only the smallest and most insignicant results. From these instructions we know how to amplify or minimize any point which we are bringing forward, when we are eulogizing or censuring. These materials for amplication are useful in other kinds of oratory, but they are most effective in eulogy and vituperation. We shall thus be provided with ample material on these topics. 4 Let us next similarly dene the kinds of oratory employed in accusation and defence and the elements of which they are composed and the uses to which they are to be put. The oratory of accusation is, to put the matter briey, the exposition of errors and crimes; defensive oratory is the disproving of errors and crimes of which a man is accused or suspected. Both styles, then, having these qualities, he who is accusing, when he charges his opponents with wickedness, must declare that their acts are unjust and illegal and detrimental to the interests of the mass of citizens; when he is accusing an adversary of folly, he must declare his acts to be both inexpedient for the actual doer of them and disgraceful and odious and impracticable. These and similar arguments are those which should be directed against the wicked and foolish. Accusers should also observe against what kinds of offences the punishments ordained by the laws are directed and for what offences juries impose penalties. Where the law has laid down a denite punishment, the accuser must make it his sole object to prove that the offence

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has been committed. When the jury has to assess the penalty, . . .8 then the errors committed by ones opponents must be amplied, and, if possible, it must be shown that the offence was committed voluntarily, and not with ordinary intent but after every possible preparation. If you cannot do this, and think that your opponent intends to show that he has somehow made a mistake or that he intended to act honourably in the matter but met with misfortune you must deprive him of any claim to pardon by telling your hearers that evil-doers, instead of declaring that they have made a mistake after they have acted, ought to be careful before they act; and further that, even if he has made mistakes or met with misfortune, he is more deserving of punishment for his misfortunes and mistakes than one who has done neither of these things. Moreover the legislator has not let those who make mistakes go free, but has made them liable to punishment, in order to prevent them from making mistakes again. You must also point out that if they listen to one who makes this kind of defence, they will have many persons doing wrong by choice; for if they are successful, they will simply do what they like, while, if they are unsuccessful, they will declare that they have met with illfortune, and they then will be excused from punishment. By such arguments must accusers deprive their adversaries of any claim to pardon, and by means of the amplications already described their acts must be shown to have caused many evils. These are the component parts of which the oratory of accusation is made up. Defensive oratory consists of three methods. A man who is defending himself must either prove that he committed none of the acts of which he is accused; or if he is forced to admit them, he must try to show that what he has done is lawful and just and honourable and expedient for the state; if he cannot prove this, he must attribute his acts to an error or to misfortune and show that the harm which has resulted from them is small, and so try to gain pardon. You can dene a crime, an error, and a misfortune thus: you must regard as a crime a wicked deed done deliberately, and you must urge that the heaviest penalty be exacted for such deeds; a harmful act done because of ignorance must be called an error; while the failure to accomplish some good intention, not through ones own fault but owing to some one else or to luck, is to be accounted a misfortune. The commission of crime you must declare to be conned to wicked men, while error and misfortune in action are not peculiar to oneself but are common to all men, including those who are sitting in judgement upon you. You must ask for pardon if you are forced to admit that you have committed faults of this kind, pointing out that your hearers
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are as liable to error and misfortune as you are. A man who is making his defence must observe all the offences for which the laws have laid down punishment and juries assess penalties. When the law xes a denite punishment, he must show that he has not committed the offence at all, or that he has acted legally and justly. But when the jury is empowered to assess the penalty, he must not follow the same course and deny that he has committed the offence, but rather he must try to prove that his action has caused little harm to his adversary and that it was done involuntarily. If we follow these and similar methods, we shall have abundant material in cases of accusation and defence. It remains for us still to deal with the style of oratory employed in an inquiry.
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5 Inquiry may be summarily described as the elucidation of choices, acts, and words which are contradictory to one another or to the rest of a mans mode of life. He who is making an inquiry must try to discover whether either the statement which he is examining or the acts or choices of the subject of his inquiry are in any respect contradictory to one another. The method to be pursued is as follows: he must consider whether in the past the person in question, after having been originally the friend of another man, next became his enemy and then again the friend of the same person, or whether he has acted, or is likely in the future, if opportunities should occur, to act in a manner which contradicts his former acts. Similarly, you must observe whether *in making some statement now, he is speaking in contradiction of his former words or whether he might speak in contradiction of what he is saying or has said before*,9 and likewise whether he has formed any choice which contradicts his former choices, or would do so if opportunities should arise. By a similar process you must deal with the contradictions which occur in the mode of life of the person whom you are examining in respect of his other and highly esteemed habits of life. If you thus pursue this branch of oratory, there is no method of examination which you will leave untried. All the various branches of oratory having now been distinguished, we must employ them, when it is tting, either each separately or in common with one another by mingling their different qualities. For there are very great differences between them, but in actual practice they have much in common. In this respect they resemble the various classes of human beings, who are partly similar and partly dissimilar in their appearance and in their looks. Having thus distinguished the various kinds of oratory, let us next enumerate the requisites which are common to all kinds and explain how they must be used.
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6 First, then, the just, the lawful, the expedient, the honourable, the pleasant, and similar topics are, as I stated at the beginning, common to all the various kinds of oratory, but are chiey used in persuasive and dissuasive oratory. Secondly amplication and minimization are necessarily useful in all kinds of oratory, but most use is made of them in eulogy and vituperation. Thirdly, there are the proofs, which must necessarily be employed in every department of oratory, but are particularly useful in accusation and defence, since these need most refutation.10 Further we must deal with anticipations of arguments, postulates, reiterations, elegancies, prolixity of speech, and moderate length of speech, brevity, and method of statement. For these and similar expedients are useful in all the various branches of oratory. 7 The just, the lawful, and the like I have already dened and explained their application; I have also dealt with amplication and minimization. I will now explain the other terms, beginning with the proofs. Proofs are of two kinds; some are derived directly from actual words, acts, and persons, others are supplementary to words and actions. Probabilities, examples, evidences, enthymemes, maxims, signs, and refutations are proofs derived from actual words, persons, and actions. The speakers opinions, testimonies, evidence given under torture, and oaths are supplementary proofs. We must understand the nature of each of these kinds of proof, and whence we are to derive material for them, and how they differ from one another. It is a probability when ones hearers have examples in their own minds of what is being said. For instance, if any one were to say that he desires the glorication of his country, the prosperity of his friends, and the misfortunes of his foes, and the like, his statements taken together will seem to be probabilities; for each one of his hearers is himself conscious that he entertains such wishes on these and similar subjects. We must, therefore, always carefully notice, when we are speaking, whether we are likely to nd our audience in sympathy with us on the subject on which we are speaking; for in that case they are most likely to believe what we say. Such, then, is the nature of a probability. We can divide probabilities into three kinds. One kind consists in the inclusion in ones speech of the feelings which are naturally found in mankindif, for example, certain persons happen to despise or fear a certain other person, or, further, if they feel pleasure or pain or desire, or have ceased from desire, or if they have experienced in mind or body or one of the senses any of the feelings
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whereby we are all affected. These and similar feelings, being common to all human nature, are well known to our hearers. Such, then, are the natural feelings which are wont to affect mankind, and for these we say that a place ought to be found in our speeches. Another division of probabilities falls under the heading of habit (which is what we do from custom), a third under that of love of gain. For we often for the sake of gain choose to act in a way which does violence to our nature and character. With these denitions before us, when we are seeking to persuade or dissuade, we must show in regard to the subject in question that the action to which we are exhorting our hearers, or which we are opposing, has the effect which we declare that it has. Failing that, we must show that actions similar to that of which we are speaking either generally or invariably turn out as we say they do. Such must be our application of probabilities in relation to actions. As regards persons you must show, if you can, when you are accusing any one, that he has often committed the act in question on previous occasions; or, if that is impossible, that he has done similar acts. You must also try to prove that it was to his advantage to commit these acts; for most men, themselves preferring what is to their advantage, think that others too always act from this motive. If, therefore, you can derive an argument of probability directly from your adversaries, this is the method by which you must infer it. Failing that, you must take similar persons and adduce their customary procedure; for example, when the man whom you are accusing is young, argue that he has committed acts such as persons of that age are in the habit of committing; for your accusations against him will be believed on the ground of this resemblance. Similarly you will gain credence if you can show that his companions have the character which you declare him to have; for owing to his association with them it will appear likely that he has the same pursuits as his friends. Such must be the employment of the argument from probabilities by those who are accusing. Those who are speaking in their own defence must make it their chief object to show that none of the acts of which they are accused has ever been committed either by themselves or by any of their friends or by any person who resembles them, and that it would have been of no advantage to them to commit such acts. But if you have manifestly done the same deed on a previous occasion, the fault must be attributed to your youth, or some other excuse must be introduced to provide a reasonable pretext for your having done wrong on that occasion. You must declare also that it was of no benet to you to have acted thus at the time and that it would not have been of any advantage to you now. If no act of the kind alleged has ever been committed by you, but some of your friends happen

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to have done such deeds, you must plead that it is not just that you should be slandered because of them, and you must show that others of your associates are honest men; you will thus throw doubt on the crime of which you are accused. If they point out that other persons, who resemble you, have committed the same crimes as they allege against you, you must declare that it is absurd if the fact that other people can be shown to have done wrong is to be regarded as a proof that you have committed any of the deeds of which you are accused. If, then, you deny that you have done the deed with which you are charged, you must thus make your defence by arguing from probabilities; for you will then make the charge appear implausible. If, however, you are obliged to admit the charge, you must point out the resemblance of your acts to the usual practice of mankind, by stating as emphatically as possible that the majority of men, or all men, act under these and similar circumstances exactly as you have done. If you cannot do this, you must take refuge in pleas of misfortune or error, and try to obtain pardon by citing the passions which are common to all mankind and make us lose our reasonlove, anger, drunkenness, ambition, and the like. Such is the method by which we shall make the most skilful use of the argument from probability. 8 Examples are actions which have taken place in the past and are similar to, or the contrary of, those about which we are speaking. They must be used when your statement is not credible and you wish to establish its truth when it does not gain credence from the argument of probability; the object being that your hearers, learning that another action similar to that of which you are speaking has been carried out in the way in which you declare it to have been done, may be more ready to believe what you say. Examples are of two kinds; for some things turn out according to our expectations, others contrary to them. The former cause credit the latter discredit. For instance, if some one declares that the rich are juster than the poor and instances certain just actions on the part of rich men, such examples are in accordance with our expectation, for one can see that most men think that rich people are juster than poor people. If, on the other hand, some one shows that certain rich individuals have acted unjustly in order to get money, thus employing an example which is contrary to expectation, he would cause the rich to be distrusted. Similarly, if any one brings forward an example of what seems to be in accordance with our expectationfor instance, that on some occasion the Lacedaemonians or Athenians employing a large number of allies utterly defeated their enemieshe then disposes his hearers to take to themselves many allies. For every one is of opinion that large numbers are of no small importance for winning a victory. If, on the
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other hand, a speaker wishes to prove that numbers do not bring victory, he must give as examples occasions when the unexpected has happened, pointing out, for instance, that the Athenian exiles rst seized Phyle with fty men and then fought a battle against the far more numerous party in the city, who had the Lacedaemonians as their allies, and were thus restored to their own city; or again, that the Thebans, when the Lacedaemonians and practically all the Peloponnesians invaded Boeotia, confronted them alone at Leuctra and conquered the might of the Lacedaemonians; or again, that Dio the Syracusan sailed to Syracuse with three thousand hoplites and defeated Dionysius, whose forces were many times as great; and likewise the Corinthians, when they went to the assistance of the Syracusans with nine triremes, defeated the Carthaginians, although they were blockading the harbours of Syracuse with a hundred and fty ships and held all the city except the acropolis. To sum the matter up, these and similar instances of unexpected successes often serve to discredit counsels which are based on ordinary probability. Such, then, is the nature of examples. Examples of both kinds must be employed, when we are urging what may be reasonably expected to happen, in order to show that the suggested course of action for the most part turns out in a particular way; and, when we are predicting some unexpected result, in order to give instances in which satisfactory results have accrued where they seemed to be least expected. If your adversaries use this device, you must show that their instances were the results of good luck, and declare that such things happen rarely, whereas your examples are of common occurrence. This, then, is the method of employing examples. If, on the other hand, we wish to cite instances where the unexpected has happened, we must collect as many of them as possible and show by enumeration that the unexpected happens quite as often as the expected. We must use not only examples derived in this way but also those based on contraries. For instance, you can show that a certain state has acted selshly towards its allies and that their friendship has thus been dissolved, and then say, We on the other hand, if we behave fairly and impartially towards our allies, shall keep their alliance for a long time; or again, you can show that certain others have gone to war without due preparation and have consequently been defeated, and then say, If we were to go to war properly prepared, we should have better hopes of success. You will be able to derive a number of examples from past and from present events; for actions are generally partly like and partly unlike one another. For this reason therefore we shall have no lack of examples and no difculty in contradicting those brought forward by the other side. We now know the different kinds of examples and how we are to employ them and whence we are to derive them in abundance.

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9 Evidences exist where the direct contrary of that with which the speech is concerned has occurred,11 and where the speech is self-contradictory. For most listeners conclude from the contraries which occur in connexion with a speech or action that there is nothing sound in what is being said or done. You will often discover evidences by considering whether your adversarys speech is selfcontradictory or whether his action itself contradicts his words. Such is the nature of evidences and the method by which you will obtain the greatest number of them. 10 Enthymemes arise where contraries occur not only of the speech and action in question but of anything else as well. You will often discover them by pursuing the method prescribed for the oratory of inquiry and by considering whether the speech or the actions are contrary to justice or law or expediency or to what is honourable, practicable, easy, or probable, or to the character of the speaker or the nature of the circumstances. Such are the enthymemes which must be chosen for use against our adversaries. The contraries of these must be employed on our own behalf, and we must prove that our actions and words are the contrary of those which are unjust, unlawful, inexpedient, and of the habits of wicked menin a word, of those things which are considered evil. We must speak in support of each of these pleas as briey as possible and express ourselves in the fewest possible words. This then is the way in which we shall obtain a large number of enthymemes and the best method of employing them. 11 A maxim is, briey, the expression of an individual opinion on general matters. There are two kinds of maxims, those which are reputable and those which are paradoxical. When you are using the former, there is no need to bring forward any reasons for your statement for what you say is well known and does not excite incredulity. But when you are uttering a paradox, you must state your reasons briey, so as to avoid prolixity and not arouse incredulity. The maxims which you quote must be applicable to the circumstances, in order that your words may not seem inept and far-fetched. We shall form a large number of maxims either from the peculiar nature of the circumstances or by means of hyperbole or by drawing parallels. The following are examples of maxims derived from the peculiar circumstances of a case: I do not regard it as possible for a man to become a clever general if he is without experience in affairs; or again, It is characteristic of sensible men to prot by the examples of their predecessors and so try to avoid the errors of evil counsel. Such then are the maxims which we shall
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form from the peculiar circumstances of a case. Maxims such as the following are formed by hyperbole: Thieves are in my opinion worse than plunderers; for the former carry off property secretly, the latter openly. By this method we shall form a number of maxims by hyperbole. The following are maxims based on parallels: Those who appropriate money seem to me to act very like those who betray cities; for both are trusted and wrong those who have trusted them; or again, My opponents seem to me to act very like tyrants; for tyrants claim not to be punished for the wrongs which they have themselves inicted, while they demand the fullest punishment for the wrongs of which they accuse others; and my adversaries, if they have themselves something which belongs to me, do not restore it, while, if I have received something which belongs to them, they think that they ought to have it restored to them and the interest on it as well. By following this method then we shall form a number of maxims.
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12 One thing is a sign of another thing, but one thing taken at random is not a sign of something else taken at random, nor is everything a sign of everything else; but the sign of a thing is that which usually occurs before, or simultaneously with, or after it. That which has happened is a sign not only of what has happened but also of what has not happened; and similarly what has not happened is a sign not only of what does not exist but also of what does exist. One sign causes belief, another knowledge; the latter is the best kind of sign, while that which produces the most plausible opinion is second best. To put the matter briey, we shall obtain an abundance of signs from anything which has been done or is said or seen, taking each separately and also from the greatness or smallness of the resultant disadvantages or advantages. We shall also derive them from testimonies and evidence and from our own supporters or those of our enemies, or from our enemies themselves; also from the challenges issued by the parties and from times and seasons and from many other things. From these sources then we shall have an abundance of signs. 13 A refutation is that which cannot be otherwise than as . . .12 as urged by us, and on what is impossible by nature or impossible as urged by our adversaries. An example of something which is naturally necessary is the statement that living creatures require food, and the like. What is necessary as urged by us is such a statement as that those who are scourged confess what their tormentors tell them to confess. Again, an instance of what is naturally impossible is the statement that a small child stole a sum of money, which he could not possibly carry, and went
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off with it. It will be an impossibility as urged by an adversary, if for example, he declares that on a certain date we made a contract at Athens, whereas we can prove to our hearers that at that time we were absent in some other city. From these and similar materials we shall form an ample supply of refutations. We have now briey described all the proofs which are derived from actual words and from acts and from persons. Let us now consider how they differ from one another. 14 A probability differs from an example in this, that the hearers have themselves some notion of the probability, while examples . . .13 can be derived from contraries and from similars, while evidences can only be constructed from contrarieties of word and deed. Again, an enthymeme always has this distinction from an evidence, that an evidence is a contrariety which is concerned with a word or an action, while an enthymeme selects also contrarieties connected with other kinds of things; in other words, it is impossible for us to obtain an evidence unless there is some contrariety in respect of actions or words, whereas speakers can provide themselves with enthymemes from a variety of sources. Maxims differ from enthymemes in that enthymemes can be constructed only from contrarieties, whereas maxims can be enunciated both in connexion with contrarieties and also by themselves. Signs differ from maxims and all the other proofs already mentioned, because, while all the others engender an opinion in the minds of those who hear them, certain of the signs cause those who judge to have a clear knowledge; also because it is impossible for us ourselves to provide most of the other proofs, while it is easy to obtain a large number of signs. Further, a refutation differs from a sign, because some signs cause those who hear them merely to entertain an opinion, whereas every refutation teaches the truth to the judges. Thus from what has been said we know the nature of the proofs which are derived from actual words and actions and men, and the sources from which we are to derive them, and how they differ from one another. Let us next deal with each of the supplementary proofs. The opinion of a speaker is the declaration of his own belief about things. You ought to show yourself to be experienced in the matters about which you are speaking, and point out that it is to your advantage to tell the truth concerning them. One who is contradicting ought rst and foremost to show that his adversary has no experience of the matters on which he is talking: if however that is impossible, he ought to show that even persons of experience often make mistakes; and if this is inadmissible, he must say that it is contrary to the advantage of his opponents to tell
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the truth about these matters. Such is the use which we shall make of opinions expressed by speakers, both when we are ourselves expressing them and when we are contradicting others.
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15 Testimony is a confession made voluntarily by one who knows. That which is testied must be either plausible or implausible or of doubtful credit; similarly the witness must be trustworthy or untrustworthy or of doubtful good faith. When therefore the evidence is plausible and the witness truthful, the testimony needs no further support, unless you wish briey to introduce a maxim or enthymeme for adornments sake. But when the witness is under suspicion, you must prove that such a person would not give false evidence to show gratitude or from motives of revenge or gain. You must also make it clear that it is not to his advantage to bear false witness; for the benets which he gains are small, while detection is a serious matter, and, if he is found out, the laws punish him not only by ning him but also be damaging his reputation and destroying his credit. By these methods then we shall cause witnesses to be believed. When we are contradicting evidence, we must cast prejudice on the character of the witness, if he is a bad man, or inquire into the evidence, if it is implausible, or else contradict both the witness and the evidence by bringing together all that is most discreditable to our adversaries. We must also consider whether the witness is a friend to him for whom he is giving evidence, or whether he can in any way be associated with his deed, or whether he is an enemy of the man against whom he is bearing witness, or whether he is poor. For such men are under suspicion of bearing false witness either to show favour or from motives of revenge or for gain. We shall also say that the legislator laid down the law about false testimony to apply to persons of this kind, so that it is absurd that, whereas the legislator did not trust witnesses, those should believe them who are sitting in judgement after having sworn to judge according to the laws. By these methods then we shall cause witnesses to be discredited. It is possible also to disguise evidence by a proceeding such as the following: Bear witness, you say, in my favour, CalliclesBy the gods, I will not, he replies, for the accused committed these crimes, though I tried to prevent him. In this way, though he has given false evidence in his refusal, he will not be liable to punishment as a false witness. This then is the way in which we shall treat evidence, when it is to our advantage to disguise it. If our opponents try to do anything of this kind, we shall expose their wickedness and order them to give their evidence in writing. With these instructions then before us we know how to deal with witnesses and evidence.

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16 Evidence given under torture is a confession on the part of one who knows but is unwilling to state what he knows. When therefore it is to our interest to strengthen such evidence, we must say that individuals take their proofs from evidence under torture in their most serious affairs, and cities in their most important business, and that evidence under torture is more trustworthy than ordinary testimony. For it is often to the interest of witnesses to lie; but those who are under torture gain by telling the truth, for doing so will bring them the speediest relief from their sufferings. When you wish to discredit evidence given under torture, you must say in the rst place that those who are being tortured become hostile to those who have delivered them up to be tortured and for this reason tell many lies against their masters. Secondly, you must say that they often make confessions to their torturers which are not the truth, in order to end their torments as quickly as possible. You must also point out that even free men have often before now lied against themselves under torture to escape the suffering of the moment; it is therefore much more likely that slaves should wish to avoid punishment by lying against their masters, rather than, when they are enduring great bodily and mental pain, retain from falsehood in order to save other people from suffering. By these and similar arguments we shall cause evidence given under torture to be plausible or implausible. 17 An oath is an afrmation without proof accompanied by an invocation of the gods. When we wish to amplify the power of an oath we must say that no one would desire to commit perjury, because he would fear punishment from heaven and disgrace in the eyes of men; we must also point out that, while it is possible to escape the notice of men, it is impossible to elude the gods. When our opponents take refuge in an oath and we wish to belittle it, we must point out that those who do evil deeds are the very men who do not scruple to commit perjury; for a man who thinks that the gods take no notice of him when he does wrong, also thinks that he will not be punished even if he forswears himself. By pursuing a method such as the above in the matter of oaths we shall have no lack of material. We have now briey carried out our purpose of dealing with all the various kinds of proof and have shown not only the force of each of them, but also how they differ from one another and how they ought to be employed. We will now proceed to explain the other expedients which belong to all seven kinds of oratory and are useful in speeches of every kind. 18 Anticipation is the method by which we shall counteract the ill-feeling

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which is felt against us by anticipating the adverse criticisms of our audience and the arguments of those who are going to speak against us. We shall anticipate the criticisms of our audience by such a statement as, Perhaps some of you are astonished that, young as I am, I attempt thus to speak in public on important matters; or again, Let no one oppose me through resentment, because I am going to offer you advice on subjects about which certain other people hesitate to speak openly before you. In matters then which are likely to annoy your hearers you must by anticipations of this kind bring forward reasons, which will show that you are justied in offering advice, pointing out the dearth of public speakers or the greatness of the dangers or the public expediency, or giving some other such reason whereby you will remove the ill-feeling which threatens you. If your audience still cries out just as much against you, you must address them briey in the form of a maxim or enthymeme, saying, for example, that it is absolutely absurd that they should have come together to take the best counsel about the situation and then think that they can take good counsel without deigning to hear what the speakers have to say; or again, you may say that it is only fair that they should either themselves get up and offer some advice, or else listen to those who have advice to offer, and then vote in favour of any course that recommends itself to them. Such must be the method of employing anticipation in public speaking, and this is how outcries must be faced. In forensic speeches we shall use similar methods of anticipation to the above. If an outcry is raised against us at an early stage of the proceedings, we shall meet it in this manner: Is it not absurd that, while the legislator ordained that each party should be allowed to speak twice, you who are sitting in judgement upon us should have sworn to pass sentence according to the law, and then refuse even to listen to a single speech? And that, while he took such measures to secure that you should give your vote in accordance with your oath after hearing all that was to be said, you should be so indifferent to his injunctions that, without even listening to the beginnings of the speeches, you already think that you know all the facts perfectly? Or you can put the matter differently and say, How absurd it is that the lawgiver should have ordained that, if the votes are equal, the defendant should win the case, whereas you hold so strongly to the contrary opinion that you do not even listen to the defence offered by those who have been slandered; and that, whereas he granted this advantage in the voting to defendants because they run greater risks, you, while you show no hostility towards the accusers who run no risks, alarm by these outcries those who in terror and danger are defending themselves from the charges brought against them. Such must be your method of meeting those who raise an outcry against you at the beginning of your speech.

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If they interrupt you when your speech is well advanced, then, if those who do so are few in number, you must rebuke them and tell them that it is only just that they should listen to you at the moment, in order that they may not prevent the rest from forming a correct judgement, and that, when they have heard you, then they can do what they please. If the majority raises an outcry against you, you should blame yourself and not your judges; for, if you nd fault with them, you only make them angry, whereas, if you blame yourself and say that you have made a mistake in your manner of speaking, you will gain their pardon. You must also beg your judges to give a favourable ear to your speech and not at this early stage to show what view they take about the facts on which they are to give their secret vote. In general, we shall meet interruptions in a summary manner with maxims and enthymemes, pointing out that our interrupters are setting themselves in opposition to justice or the laws or the interests of the city or what is honourable; for such methods as these are best calculated to make ones hearers stop interrupting. We now know from what has been said above how to employ anticipations in dealing with an audience and how to meet interruptions. I will next show you how to anticipate what is likely to be said by ones opponents. You can say: Perhaps he will bewail his poverty, which is not my fault but has been caused by his own way of life; or again, I hear that he intends to say such and such a thing. If we are speaking rst, we must thus anticipate what our opponents are likely to say and so destroy and invalidate their pleas. For even though the arguments which you forestall are quite forcible, they will appear much less weighty to those who have already heard them. If we are speaking after our opponents and they have anticipated what we intend to say, it is necessary to counteract their anticipations and destroy them by speaking as follows, My opponent has not only told you many lies to my discredit, but further, well knowing that I shall refute his charges, he has anticipated my plea and discredited it beforehand, in order that you may not give it the attention which you otherwise would, or else that I may not employ it at all, because it has already been torn to pieces by him. I hold, however, that you ought to hear my arguments from my own lips, not from his, even if14 he has tried to tear my arguments to pieces by saying things which I declare to be a strong sign that he has no sound plea to offer. Euripides has made a clever use of this device in the following lines of his Philoctetes: Een though he thinks to have destroyed my pleas Escaping charge of wrong, yet will I speak;
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28 From mine own lips mine arguments shall come, Let his words show what kind of man he is.15

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We know then from the above how to make use of anticipations in relation both to our judges and to our opponents.
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19 Postulates in oratory are the demands which speakers make from their hearers. Some of them are just, others unjust. It is just to ask that they should listen to what you are saying and lead a favourable ear. It is also a just demand that they should give one the assistance which the laws allow and never vote against the laws and that they should make allowances for misfortunes. Any demand which is contrary to the law is unjust, otherwise it is just.16 Such are the postulates. We have distinguished their different kinds in order that, knowing the just from the unjust, we may use them on the right occasion, and that it may not escape our notice if our adversaries make any unjust demand from the judges. From what has been said we shall have an adequate knowledge on this subject. 20 Iteration is a means of briey reminding ones hearers. It must be employed both at the conclusion of a division of a speech and at the nal conclusion. In recapitulating we use iteration when arguing or narrating or recommending or questioning using irony. I will show you of what nature each of these is. The following is an example of its use in arguing: I cannot say what these men would have done, if they had not manifestly deserted us long ago and were not convicted of having served against our city and of having never fullled any of their promises. Such is the use of iteration in an argument. It can be used as follows in narrating: I have shown that they were the rst to break the treaty of alliance and the rst to attack us when we were at war with the Lacedaemonians, and that they displayed the utmost eagerness to enslave our city. Such is the use of iteration in narrative. The following is an example of its use in reminding your audience under the form of recommending a certain course of action: You must remember that ever since we entered into friendship with these men we have never suffered any reverse at the hands of our enemies. For they have often helped us and prevented the Lacedaemonians from devastating our territory, and they have continued to this day to contribute large sums of money. Thus shall we remind our hearers by recommending a certain course of action. The following is an instance of iteration in the form of a question: I should like to hear from them, why
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it is that they do not pay us the tribute which they owe. For they cannot have the face to say that they are in need of money, when they can be shown to be receiving such large sums of money annually from their land, nor yet can they say that they spend much on the administration of their city; for they clearly spend less than all the other islanders. Such will be our use of iteration in the form of a question. 21 Irony is to say something and pretend that you are not saying it, or else to call things by the names of their contraries. It may take the following form in a brief reminder of what has already been said: I think that I need hardly say that these men, who pretend that they have done the state many services, are shown to have done it much harm, whereas we, whom they declare to be ungrateful, are shown to have often helped them and never to have done any one any injury. Such is the way briey to remind your hearers of something under the pretence of omitting it. Secondly, the following is an instance of calling things by contrary names: These noble citizens have clearly done great harm to their allies, while we worthless mortals have obviously been the cause of many benets to them. In this way we shall briey remind our hearers and employ iteration at the end of the divisions of our speeches and at their nal conclusion. 22 We will next explain how one can speak elegantly and prolong a speech to the length which one desires. We can speak elegantly in the following manner, by introducing, for example, half enthymemes in such a way that our audience can guess the other half; we must also include maxims. To some of these we must give a place in every division of the speech17 but the actual words must be varied and a similar phrase must never be applied repeatedly in the same connexion. In this way your speech will be elegant. When you wish to lengthen your speech, you must divide up your subject and in each division explain the nature of its contents and their particular and general application and state the grounds of your pleas. If we wish to make our discourse still longer, we must employ a number of words in dealing with each topic. In each division of the speech you must iterate and make your iteration brief; while at the conclusion of your speech you ought to recapitulate as a whole all that you have dealt with in detail, and treat the subject generally. In this way your speech will be of a sufcient length. If you wish to speak briey, you should include your whole subject in a single word and that word the shortest which is applicable to the subject. You must also
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employ few conjunctive particles and connect as many things as possible together. Such must be your choice of words; you must make your language serve a double purpose, and you must do away with the brief iterations in the separate divisions of the speech and only employ iteration in your nal conclusion. This is the way in which we shall make our speeches brief. If you wish to speak at moderate length, you must pick out the most important divisions of your speech and make them your subject. You must also use the words of medium length and not the longest or the shortest, and not employ a large number on a single topic but observe moderation. You must neither on the one hand do away entirely with conclusions in the intermediate parts of your speech, nor on the other hand introduce them in every division; but you must make special iterations at the end of those parts to which you wish your audience to pay particular attention. On these principles, then, we shall regulate the length of our speeches, whenever we wish to do so. If you wish to compose a speech which will be elegant, you must take care as far as possible to adapt the character of your speech to that of your audience. You will achieve this, if you observe their character, whether noble or petty or ordinary. On these points, then, you will have adequate knowledge from what has been said above. We will now treat of the putting together of words; for this too is essential. 23 In the rst place, then, words are of three kinds, simple, composite, and metaphorical. Similarly there are three ways in which words can be put together: rstly, you can end one syllable with a vowel and begin the next with a vowel; secondly, you can begin a word with a consonant and end the previous word with a consonant; thirdly, you can put consonants and vowels in juxtaposition. There are four orders in which words can be arranged. First, you can either put similar words side by side or else disperse them; or again, you can use the same words or else change them into others; thirdly, you can describe a thing in one or many words; fourthly, you can name in their proper order the subjects of which you have undertaken to treat, or else transpose them. I will next show what is the best method of statement which you can employ. 24 First of all, you must make your statement by means of a twofold division, and, secondly, you must discourse lucidly. The following are the various forms of this two-fold division. First, one can say that one can oneself do one

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thing and another; secondly, that this man cannot do a certain thing, but that man can; thirdly, that this man can do a certain thing and something else; fourthly, that neither can one do a certain thing oneself nor can any one else do it; fthly, that one cannot do a certain thing oneself, but that some one else can; sixthly, that one can do something oneself, but the other person cannot do something else. You can see each of these cases in the following examples. An illustration of the case where one can oneself do one thing and another is: I have not only achieved this for you, but also, when Timotheus intended to make an expedition against you, I prevented him. The following is an example of the case where one man cannot do a thing but another man can: This man then is unable to go himself on an embassy for you, but here is a man who is a friend of the Spartan state and would be better able than any one else to carry out the negotiations which you wish carried out. The case where a man can do a certain thing and something else as well can be thus illustrated: Not only has he proved himself a strong man in war, but he can also give as good advice as any other citizen. The following is a case where one cannot oneself do a thing and nobody else can: Having but a small force I cannot myself conquer our adversaries, nor could any other citizen do so. The following is an instance in which another man can do a thing, but one cannot do it oneself: Yes, he is physically strong, but I am weak. The following is an illustration of the case where one can oneself do one thing, but some other person cannot do something else: I can steer, but this man cannot even pull an oar. This then is how you will employ forms of twofold statement, following the same course in every subject. We must next consider how you are to treat your subject lucidly. 25 First, then, call anything of which you speak by its proper name, avoiding ambiguity. Take care not to put vowels next to one another. Be careful to put the so-called articles in the proper place. Consider how you put words together, so that there may be neither confusion nor transposition; for if your discourse has these qualities it is obscure. When you use an introductory particle, employ the corresponding particle afterwards. The following is an example of the use of corresponding particle: I indeed (men) came to the place to which I said I would come, but (de) you, though you promised to come, did not do so; or again, when the same particle follows: You were both (kai) the cause of that and (kai) the cause of this. So much for the particles; from these examples you must infer the use of others. Words must be put together so as to avoid confusion or transposition. The following is an example of such confusion: It is a terrible thing that this man should strike this man. Here it is not clear which man struck the other; but you
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will make it clear if you say; It is a terrible thing that this man should be struck by this man.18 This is an example where there is a confusion in the arrangement of words. . . .19 The following is an instance of care taken to put the article in the right place: This man is wronging this man. In this case the insertion of the articles makes the diction clear, while their omission will make it obscure; the reverse is sometimes true. So much then for the articles. Never put vowels in juxtaposition, unless it is impossible to make your meaning clear otherwise, or unless a pause or some other division occurs. The following is a case where ambiguity must be avoided: the same words are sometimes used in several senses, for example we speak of a threshold (odos) of a door and of a way (hodos) along which people walk; in such cases we must always add that which gives the word its distinctive meaning. If we follow these rules we shall be clear in our use of words, and we shall make statements by means of the twofold method of division already described. 26 Let us now deal with the antitheses, parisoses, and similarities; for we shall need these also. An antithesis occurs when both the wording and the sense, or one or other of them, are opposed in a contrast. The following would be an antithesis both of wording and sense: It is not fair that my opponent should become rich by possessing what belongs to me, while I sacrice my property and become a mere beggar. In the following sentence we have a merely verbal antithesis: Let the rich and prosperous give to the poor and needy; and an antithesis of sense only in the following: I tended him when he was sick, but he has been the cause of very great misfortunes to me. Here there is no verbal antithesis, but the two actions are contrasted. The double antithesis (that is, both of sense and of wording) would be the best to use: but the other two kinds are also true antitheses. 27 Parisosis occurs when a sentence has two equal members. The equality can be that of many small to few great things, and an equality of magnitude can be united with an equality of number. Parisosis takes a form such as the following, either through lack of resources or through the magnitude of the war. These things are neither like nor opposed to one another, but merely equal to one another. 28 Paromoeosis goes further than parisosis; for it makes the members not only equal but also similar, being composed of similar words, in the following,
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The examples make sense in Greek, where touton typtein touton is ambiguous. Fuhrmann marks a lacuna.

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for example: If you must imitate the wording, you should simulate the feeling.20 Above all you should make the last words similar; for this gives the closest similarity. Words are similar which have similar syllables, in which most of the letters are the same; for example, in numbers decient, in might sufcient. Enough then of these topics. For we are acquainted with the nature of the just, the lawful, the honourable, the expedient and the other qualities, and the sources from which we can derive them in abundance. Similarly we know the nature of amplications and minimizations, and how we can provide them for our discourses. In like manner we are acquainted with proofs, anticipations, the postulates which we demand from our hearers, iterations, elegances, the means of regulating the length of our speeches, and all the ways of putting words together for purposes of statement. And so knowing from what has been said the qualities which are common to every kind of oratory and their uses, if we accustom and practise ourselves according to the prescribed preparatory exercises, we shall attain to great facility both in writing and speaking. It is by taking the component parts separately that you can most accurately distinguish the methods of speaking. I will next treat of the manner in which the words must be organically arranged in the various kinds of oratory, and which parts must be put rst and how they must be treated. I deal therefore rst with proems; for the proem is common to all seven kinds of oratory and it can be ttingly applied to all subjects. 29 The proem can be described in a general way as a preparation of ones audience and a declaration of the subject in a summary manner for the benet of the ignorant, in order that they may know with what the speech is concerned and may follow the argument. It also exhorts them to pay attention and tries, as far as is possible in a speech, to inuence their minds in our favour. Such is the preparation at which the proem must aim. I will rst show how the proem must be employed in public speaking and persuasive oratory. The following are examples of the way in which to lay your subject before your hearers and make it clear to them: I stand before you to advise that we should go to war on behalf of the Syracusans, or, I stand before you to demonstrate the inadvisability of our helping the Syracusans. This, then, is the way to summarize your subject. We shall know how to exhort our hearers to pay attention, if we ourselves call to mind to what arguments and facts we pay most attention when deliberating. Do
20

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The text of this example is uncertain.

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we not pay the closest attention when the subjects of deliberation are important or alarming or else nearly concern us; or when those who address us claim that they will show us that the measures which they are urging us to adopt are just and honourable and expedient and easy and honest; or when they beg us to listen with attention? Just as, therefore, we ourselves attend to others, so if we take those of the points above mentioned which are most applicable to the subjects of which we are treating and lay them before our hearers, we shall make them attend to what we are saying. These, then, are the ways in which we exhort our hearers to pay attention. We shall secure their goodwill if we rst consider what is in fact their attitude towards us, whether they are well or ill disposed or whether they are indifferent. If they are actually well disposed towards us, it is superuous to talk about goodwill; if, however, we wish to talk about it at all, we must do so briey, using irony in the following way: That I am well disposed towards the state, and that you have often acted expediently by following my advice, and that I observe a just attitude towards public affairs, preferring a personal sacrice to reaping any advantage at the expense of the state,these are, I think, statements which it is unnecessary for me to make to you who know well the truth of them. My efforts shall be directed rather to showing you that you will be well advised, if on this occasion too you follow my counsels. This then is the method by which in a public speech you must remind those who are well disposed towards you of their goodwill. When your hearers are neither prejudiced against you nor well disposed, you must say that it is right and expedient that they should give a favourable ear to those citizens who have not yet given a proof of their quality as speakers. You must then atter your audience by praising them, urging them to judge the speeches which they hear with fairness and discrimination as is their custom. Further, you must employ minimization and say, I stand before you not through any condence in my own cleverness, but because I think that the advice which I am about to offer is benecial to the state. By such methods you must secure the goodwill of those who are neither well nor ill disposed towards you. If you are the object of misrepresentation, the misrepresentation must be connected with yourself or the subject on which you are speaking or your actual words. Misrepresentations of this kind can date either from the present or from the past. If then one is under suspicion of wrongdoing in the past, one must employ anticipation in addressing ones audience and say: I am well aware that a prejudice exists against me, but I will prove that it is groundless. You must then make a brief defence in your proem, if you have anything to say on your own behalf, or raise objections to the judgements which have been passed upon you.

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For whether you have been publicly or privately misrepresented, judgement must either have been passed upon you or be impending in the immediate future, or else those who have laid the charge against you are unwilling to submit the matter to judgement; and you must say that the judgement passed upon you was unfair21 and that you have been the victim of party plots. If this is impossible, you must say that your previous misfortunes were sufcient, and that it is only fair, now that the matter has been judged and done with, that no further prejudice should be raised against you on the same grounds. If you are expecting to have judgement passed upon you, you must say that you are ready to submit the misrepresentations now to the judgement of your present audience; adding that, if you are proved to have wronged the state, you consider yourself worthy of death. If your accusers do not press their charges against you, you must use this very fact as a sign that their misrepresentations of you are groundless; for it will seem hardly likely that those who are bringing true accusations against you can be unwilling to submit the matter to judgement. You must always denounce misrepresentation and declare it to be outrageous and universal and the cause of endless evil. You must also point out that many have before now been ruined through unjust misrepresentation. You must show moreover that it is foolish that men, when they are consulting about matters of public interest, should allow themselves to be disturbed by the misrepresentations of individuals instead of listening to the advice of all and then considering what true policy requires. You must also promise to prove that the advice which you have undertaken to give is just and expedient. Such then is the method which those who have been misrepresented in the past must adopt in public speaking in order to refute misrepresentation. In reference to the present time the rst thing which creates a prejudice against speakers is their age. If a man who is quite young or quite old is speaking in public, his hearers feel annoyance; for they think that the former ought not yet to have begun to speak, while the latter ought before now to have ceased speaking. Secondly, a prejudice is created against a man, if he is a frequent speaker, for it looks as if he were a busybody; or again, against a man who has never spoken before, for it looks as if he had some motive of private gain in thus speaking in public contrary to his usual custom. Such, then, are the ways in which prejudices in reference to the present are likely to be created against a public speaker. Excuses must be made by a young man by urging the dearth of advisers and the special suitability of the speaker; for instance, if the question concerns the superintendence of the torch-races or the gymnasium or arms or horses or war
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Fuhrmann obelizes this clause.

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in such matters a young man has no small interest. He must also urge that, if he has not yet the wisdom of years, he has at any rate that wisdom which comes from natural endowments and diligent application. He should also point out that, whereas unsuccessful advice reects only upon its unhappy proposer, the benet conferred when the policy succeeds is shared by the whole community. Such then are the excuses which must be urged by a young man. Excuses must be made when an old man is speaking by pointing out the dearth of advisers and his experience of the subject. Furthermore he may urge the magnitude and unusual character of the crisis and the like. When a man is in the habit of speaking too frequently, he may point to his wide experience and urge that it would be wrong that one who was formerly in the constant habit of speaking should not express his opinion on this occasion. One who is not in the habit of speaking must urge the magnitude of the crisis and that it is essential that every one who has a stake in the community should express his opinion on the present situation. Such then are the means by which we shall attempt to break down the prejudices raised against the persons of public speakers. Prejudice is created against the subject matter of a speech when the speaker advises the rupture of peaceful relations with22 those from whom we have received no injury or who are stronger than we, or when he advises a discreditable peace or urges a reduction of the expenditure on sacrices or makes some other such proposal. On such subjects, rst, one should employ anticipation in addressing ones hearers; secondly, one ought to lay the blame upon necessity and fortune and the times and expediency, and say that it is not those who are giving advice but the circumstances which are to be blamed for such proposals. Such are the methods by which we shall free advisers from prejudices which are due to their subject matter. The actual speech in a public harangue creates a prejudice when it is too lengthy or old-fashioned, or lacks credibility. If it be long, this must be attributed to the abundance of material; if it be old-fashioned, it must be pointed out that such a style is opportune at the moment; if it is implausible, you must promise that you will prove it to be true in the course of your oration. These then are the considerations which will have a place in our public speeches. Next, what arrangement shall we employ? If there be no prejudice against either ourselves personally or our speech or our subject, we shall lay down our proposition at the very beginning, and we shall afterwards exhort our hearers to pay attention and give our words a favourable hearing. If any prejudice has been
22

Reading symbouleue lyein.

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created against us in previous speeches, we shall anticipate the judgement of our audience and, after briey defending and excusing ourselves from the prejudices thus caused, shall then state our proposition and exhort our hearers to give us their attention. This, then, is the way in which public speeches should be constituted. 30 Next we must either narrate events which have happened in the past or recall them to the minds of our hearers, or explain events which are occurring at the moment or else predict what is likely to occur in the future. When therefore we are reporting the details of an embassy, we must make a lucid statement of everything that was said, in order that our speech may carry weight (for it will be a report and nothing else, and no other style will nd its way in); next, if we have been unsuccessful, our object will be to make our hearers think that the failure of the negotiations was due to some other cause and not to our negligence; whereas, if we have met with success, they must be made to suppose that the result has been due not to chance but to our zealous efforts. This they are ready to believe, if, not having been present at the negotiations, they observe the zeal displayed in our speech in omitting nothing but accurately reporting every detail. So, when we are describing the results of an embassy, we must for the reasons which I have stated report everything just as it happened. When we are ourselves describing in a public speech some past event or explaining the events of the moment or predicting what will happen in the future, we must do each of these things briey, clearly, and convincingly. We must be clear, in order that our hearers may grasp the events which we are describing, and concise, in order that they may remember what we have said; and we must speak convincingly, in order that they may not reject our statements before we have supported them with proofs and justications. The clearness of our explanations will be due to the facts or to the words which we use; to the facts if we do not present them in an inverted order, but mention rst those which have occurred or are occurring or are going to occur rst, and arrange the subsequent events in their proper order, and do not desert the subject about which we have undertaken to speak, and deal with some other subject. Thus, then, we shall speak clearly as far as our facts are concerned. Our actual words will be clear, if we describe actions as far as possible in words which are appropriate to them, and if we employ usual words and do not put them in an inverted order but always arrange together those which naturally follow one another. If we observe these rules, our narrative will be clear. We shall be concise if we omit all facts and words the mention of which is not essential, keeping only those the omission of which will render our speech
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obscure. Our narrative will then be concise. We shall speak convincingly if, in support of facts which are implausible, we bring forward reasons which will make the events which we describe seem likely to have taken place. We must omit anything the occurrence of which seems too unconvincing. If you are obliged to mention such things, you must make it clear that you have denite knowledge of them, and you must pass lightly over them, weaving them into your speech by the gure of pretended omission, and promise to show their truth as your speech progresses, making the excuse that you wish rst to demonstrate the truth or justice (or the like) of your previous statements. This is the way in which we shall remedy incredulity in our hearers. In a word, by employing all the above-mentioned devices we shall make our reports, expositions, and predictions clear, brief, and convincing. 31 There are three different methods in which we shall arrange them. If the actions about which we are speaking are few in number and well known to our audience, we shall include the narration of them in our proem, in order that this part of our speech may not in itself be too short. If the actions which we are recounting are too numerous and not familiar to our audience, we shall present them in every case in a connected form and show that they are just, expedient, and honourable, in order that we may not only make our tale plain and unembellished by simply relating facts but may also win the attention of our hearers. If the facts which we are recounting are unimportant and unfamiliar, we ought to insert the report or exposition or prediction of them bodily in the proem. This we shall do by recounting them from beginning to end and including nothing extraneous but merely relating the bare facts. We shall thus know how to arrange narratives in our proem. 32 Next comes conrmation, whereby we conrm that the facts which we have already mentioned are of the nature of which we have undertaken to prove them to be, by adducing proofs and by considerations of justice and expediency. When therefore . . .23 you must make sure they are connected. The proofs which are best suited to public orations are those based on the customary course of events and examples and supplementary enthymemes and the opinion of the orator; but any other proofs which present themselves may also be employed. They must be arranged in the following way: rst, the opinion of the orator must be mentioned, or, if that is not done, the customary course of events must be indicated, showing that what we are asserting, or something similar, is what usually occurs. Following
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on this we must cite examples, and any point of similarity must be introduced to support what we are saying. The examples which we take must be closely akin to our subject and the nearest in time or place to our hearers. In the absence of such examples we must employ the most striking and best known that we can nd. Next we must cite maxims. Also, in the parts where we introduce probabilities and examples we must end with enthymemes and maxims. This is the manner then in which we must introduce proofs where facts are concerned. If our statements of facts are believed as soon as they are made, we must omit all proofs and conrm the facts which we have already stated by appeals to justice and lawfulness and expediency and considerations of what is honourable, pleasant, easy, possible, or necessary. Where an appeal to justice is possible, it must be given the rst place, and we must explain our statements in relation to justice or a resemblance to justice or its contrary or what has been judged to be just. You must also cite examples similar to the cases of justice which you are instancing. You will also be able to produce numerous examples of what is regarded as just under special circumstances and in the actual city in which your speech is made, and in other states. When, following this method, we have said what we have to say, adding at the end maxims and brief enthymemes of different kinds, if this division of our speech is long and we wish it to be remembered by our hearers, we shall give a concise iteration; if, however, it is short and still fresh in their memory, we shall bring the division itself to a close and begin another one. The following is an example of what I mean: In what I have already said I think that the justice of our helping the Syracusans has been sufciently demonstrated; I will now attempt to show the expediency of our doing so. You will next treat the question of expediency by a similar method to that which we employed above in the case of justice, and at the end of that division add an iteration or denite conclusion, and then bring forward some other considerations with which you have to deal. This is the way in which you must connect one division with another and keep up the thread of your speech. When you have employed every possible means to conrm your advice, you must in addition to all this show in a summary manner with the help of enthymemes and maxims that it is unjust and inexpedient and dishonourable and unpleasant not to adopt your suggestion, and in a summary way you must contrast with this the justice, expediency, honourableness, and pleasure of doing what you are recommending. When you have made a sufcient use of maxims, you must end your exhortations with a denite conclusion. This then is the way in which we shall conrm the proposals which we make. The next division of our treatise will be concerned with the anticipation of contrary arguments.
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33 Anticipation is the method by which you anticipate and demolish the objections which can be brought against your speech. You must minimize the arguments of your opponents and amplify your own, as you have already learnt to do from the instructions about amplication. You must set a single argument against another when yours is the stronger, and several against several and one against many and many against one, using every possible kind of contrast to magnify your own arguments and weaken and minimize those of your adversaries. This is the manner in which we shall employ anticipations. Having done this we shall conclude with an iteration using the forms of argument or narration or recommendation or questioning or irony which we have already mentioned. 34 If we are urging that help should be given to someone, whether to private individuals or to states, it will be tting briey to mention any friendship or cause for gratitude or pity which already exists between them and the assembly which you are addressing. For they are most willing to help those who stand in such relations to them. All men feel an affection for those from whom, or from whose friends, they think they themselves, or those for whom they care, have received or are receiving or are going to receive some deserved kindness. They feel gratitude towards those from whom, or from whose friends, they think they themselves or those for whom they care have received, are receiving, or will receive some undeserved benet. If any feelings of this kind are present in their minds, we must briey dwell upon them and so move our hearers to pity. We shall have no difculty in arousing as much pity as we wish, if we realize that all men pity those whom they suppose to be closely connected with themselves or think to be unworthy to suffer misfortune. You must prove that this is the condition of those for whom you wish to excite pity, and show that they either have been or are in an evil plight, or will be so unless your hearers assist them. If this is not possible, you must show that those on whose behalf you are speaking have been or are being or will be deprived of advantages which all or most other people enjoy, or else have been or are without some advantage, or never will obtain it unless those whom you are addressing take pity on them now. These are the ways in which we shall incline our audience to pity. In dissuasion we shall employ the contrary method, using the same kind of proem and narrating the facts and giving the proofs and showing our hearers that what they are attempting to do is unlawful, unjust, inexpedient, disgraceful, unpleasant, impracticable, burdensome, and unnecessary. The arrangement of our speech will be similar to that used in persuasion. Such, then, is the way in which those who are employing dissuasion on their own account must arrange

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their speech. Those who are opposing the advice given by others must in the rst place state in their proem the views which they intend to oppose and then add one by one the other parts of the proem. After the proem the speaker must rst bring forward separately each of the points in the previous speech and show that the recommendations of his adversary are not just or lawful or expedient or the like. This you will do by proving that what he says is unjust or inexpedient or bears a resemblance to injustice or inexpediency, or is the opposite of the just or expedient or what has been judged to be so. You must treat the other points in a similar manner. This, then, is the most effective method of dissuasion. If this course is impossible, you must try to dissuade your audience by using the technique of omission: for example, if your opponent has shown that a certain course is just, you must attempt to prove that it is discreditable or inexpedient or toilsome or impracticable or whatever else you can; or if he has expediency on his side, you must show that his suggestion is unjust and whatever else you can as well. You must amplify your own contentions and minimize those of your adversary, employing the method already prescribed for persuasive oratory. You must also introduce maxims and enthymemes, as in persuasion, and refute anticipations, and in conclusion employ iteration. In addition to this* we must show, when we are seeking to persuade our hearers, that friendship exists between them and those whom we are urging them to help, or that they owe a debt of gratitude to those who are asking for their assistance; but when we are trying to prevent help from being given, we must show that they are worthy objects of anger or envy or hostility.*24 We shall implant a sentiment of hostility in those whom we are seeking to dissuade by showing that either they themselves, or those for whom they care, have received undeserved illtreatment at the hands of the other party or their friends. We shall arouse anger, if we show that they, or those for whom they themselves care, have been wrongfully treated with contempt or injustice by the other party or their friends. We shall create a feeling of envy, to put the matter briey, against those whom we show to have enjoyed unmerited prosperity, or to be now doing so, or to be likely to do so in the future; or not to have been deprived of some advantage, or not to be being deprived or not likely to be so; or never to have suffered some misfortune in the past, or not to be doing so now, or to be never likely to do so in future. This, then, is the method by which we shall implant envy or hostility or anger; while we shall create feelings of friendship, gratitude, and pity by the methods which
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we indicated in treating of persuasion. We shall give these sentiments their place and arrangement according to the various methods already mentioned. We now know the nature of persuasive oratory and its component parts and how it must be employed.
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35 Let us next set before ourselves the consideration of eulogistic and vituperative oratory.* Here too we must rst of all state our propositions*25 in the proem, and refute misrepresentation by the same method as in persuasive oratory. We must also exhort our hearers to give us their attention by the methods already described under public speeches and in particular by saying things which will cause astonishment and attract remark, and showing that the subjects of our speech and those who usually incur praise or blame have acted in the same manner.26 Speeches of this kind are usually made not in order to ght a case but for display. First, we shall arrange the proem on the same principle as in persuasive and dissuasive speeches. After the proem, we must distinguish those good qualities of our subject which are outside the sphere of excellence and those which fall within it, as follows27 : those which fall outside the sphere of excellence we shall divide into good birth, physical strength, personal beauty, and wealth, while we shall divide excellence into wisdom, justice, courage and reputable habits of life. The qualities which pertain to excellence are proper subjects of eulogy; those which fall outside it must be disguised, for we ought to congratulate rather than praise those who are strong and handsome and well-born and wealthy. Having made these distinctions we shall give the genealogy of the subject of our speech the rst place after the proem; for this is the rst thing which brings repute or disrepute upon men and also upon animals. [We shall therefore be justied in giving the genealogy of a man or any other animal; and when we are praising any ones feeling or action or speech or possession, we shall be justied in beginning our eulogy by mentioning the reputable qualities which he possesses.]28 The following is the way to treat a mans genealogy: if his ancestors were good men and true, you ought to mention them all from the earliest times down to the subject of your eulogy and give a brief account of some glorious achievement performed by each of his forefathers. If it is only his earliest ancestors that were good men while the rest failed to do anything remarkable, you must mention the former in the manner already described and omit the undistinguished members
25 26

Asterisked by Fuhrmann. Reading kai autous kat ison for kai auton ison. 27 The text is uncertain. 28 Excised by Fuhrmann.

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of the family, excusing yourself by saying that, his ancestors being so numerous, you do not wish to weary your audience by speaking of them, and that every one knows that men who are born of a good stock usually resemble their forefathers. If his early ancestors were undistinguished but those who come nearer his own time were men of repute, you must dwell upon his descent from the latter and say that it would be tedious to speak at length about his early forefathers, and you must show that the immediate ancestors of those whom you are eulogizing were good men; adding that it is quite clear that their ancestors must have been good men and true, for it is hardly likely that such excellent and worthy persons can have been born of bad parents. If there is nothing reputable in the ancestry of the subject of your eulogy, you must insist on his personal nobility and suggest that all those who have a natural predisposition for excellence are well born, and you must censure those other orators who dwell upon ancestral glories, pointing out that many men of reputable ancestry have proved themselves unworthy of their forefathers. You must also insist that your task on the present occasion is to praise the man himself, not his ancestors. A similar use must be made of genealogies to discredit one whose ancestors were men of evil repute. Such then is the place which genealogy must occupy in eulogy and vituperation. If the subject of your eulogy owes some distinction to good luck, . . .29 observing this one principle that you say what bets his various ages, and do not speak at too great length. For example, in children it is generally considered that orderliness and self control are due not to themselves but to those who have charge of them, and so they must be dealt with briey. When you have thus described his early years, after concluding with an enthymeme or maxim at the end of this division of your speech, you will, when you come to the early manhood of the subject of your eulogy, state your subject, viz. his achievements or character or habits, and you must amplify them on the principle which we laid down at the beginning in treating of eulogistic oratory, explaining that it was at this age that such and such a glorious deed was done by him whom you are eulogizing, or through his agency or that he inspired it or supplied the motive or was essential to it. You must also compare the notable achievements of other young men and show that his actions far surpass theirs, relating the least important of their deeds and the most important of the achievements of the subject of your eulogy. You must set deeds of others which are notable but less important side by side with those which you are relating, and so exaggerate the importance of the latter. You must also amplify his achievements by conjectures of the following kind: Yet one who
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at this early age became so great a philosopher, if he had been older would have advanced yet further; or again, A man who so stoutly endures the toils of the gymnasium, will gladly welcome the love of toil which philosophy demands. By conjectures of this kind we shall amplify his good qualities. When we have dealt with the events of his early manhood, we shall put maxims an enthymemes at the end of this section too; and, after either briey iterating what we have said, or bringing it to a nal conclusion, we shall next treat of the achievements of the subject of our eulogy after reaching full manhood, and after setting forth his justice rst and amplifying this topic by the method already described we shall proceed to deal with his wisdom, if he possesses this quality; having similarly dealt with this we shall set forth his courage, if he possesses any, and after going through the process of amplifying this also, when we have reached the end of this section and described all his various qualities, we shall repeat and summarize what we have said and bring the whole speech to a conclusion with a maxim or an enthymeme. It will be suitable in eulogies to treat the various points at considerable length and to employ a dignied diction. We shall use the same method to compose our accusations when we are dealing with wicked men. But we must not scoff at the man with whom we are nding fault, but we must describe his life; for statements have more effect than scoffs, bringing conviction to our hearers and causing annoyance to those with whom we are nding fault; for scofng is directed against outward appearance and circumstance, while statements about a man are the picture, as it were, of his habits and character. Be on your guard against calling disgraceful actions by disgraceful names, so as not to violate conventional feeling, but express such things by indirect hints and explain the facts in words which are really applicable to different actions. In nding fault you must employ irony and laugh at the points on which your adversary prides himself; in private, and in the presence of a few listeners, you should seek to discredit him, but before the multitude you should abuse him by levelling only ordinary accusations against him. You must employ the same methods of amplication and minimization in nding fault as in eulogy. From what has been said we shall know how to practise these kinds of oratory. 36 It remains for us to deal with the oratory of accusation and defence and inquiry. Let us next discuss how we shall compose and arrange these in the forensic type of oratory. We shall rst set forth in the proem, as in the other kinds, the action which is to be the subject of our accusation or defence. We shall exhort our hearers to attention by the same means as we employed in the persuasive and dissuasive styles.

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*Again, as regards the goodwill of the audience, when they are well-disposed towards the subject of our speech in connexion with either the past or in the present and he is not the object of prejudice because they are irritated against him or his action or his speech, we must secure their goodwill by the method described in dealing with the other kinds of oratory. When they are neither well nor illdisposed towards him in connexion with either the past or the present, or when his personality or his action or his words are the object of prejudice, we must bring forward reasons for goodwill towards him, sometimes blending them together and sometimes taking them separately.*30 Such, then, is the method by which we must conciliate goodwill. Those who are the objects neither of goodwill nor of illwill must briey eulogize themselves and dispraise their adversaries. They must praise themselves in connexion with the qualities which most nearly concern their hearers, calling themselves, for example, patriotic, true to their friends, grateful, compassionate; while they will dispraise an adversary by applying to him epithets which will arouse the anger of their audience, such as unpatriotic, untrue to his friends, thankless, pitiless, and the like. They must also conciliate the jury by praising their justice and the intelligence which they bring to their task. They must also mention any point in which they are at a disadvantage compared with their opponents, whether in word or deed or anything else which concerns the suit; and they must further introduce the considerations of justice, legality, expediency, and the like. It is by these means that we must win goodwill in the minds of the jury for one who is the object of neither kindly nor unkindly feeling. When a man is an object of prejudice, if the prejudice dates from the past and is concerned with his person or with what he has said, we know from what has already been remarked how to remove it. If it dates from the present time, it must necessarily be concerned with the mans personality31 if he is represented as unt to bring the case in question, or his character as contradicting the charges he brings or consistent with the accusation brought against him. It would be a case of unsuitability if too young or too old a man pleaded on behalf of another; of contradiction, if a strong man accused a weak man of assault, or if a violent man brought a charge of violence against a self-controlled man, or if a very poor man went to law against a very rich man charging him with embezzlement. These are cases where there is a contradiction between the accusations and those who bring them. There will be consistency with the charge where a strong man is
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prosecuted for assault by a weak man or one who has the reputation of being a thief is put on his trial for theft. In a word, there will seem to be consistency with the charge in the case of persons who cause an opinion to be formed about them which corresponds with their character. Such, then, will be the misrepresentations which arise at the moment against a mans personality. Prejudice will be raised against a mans action if he goes to law with his own friends or guests or relatives, or on petty or discreditable pleas; for these things bring disrepute upon the parties in a suit. I will now show how we are to get rid of the above mentioned prejudices. I maintain that there are two principles which hold good in all cases. First, when you think your opponents are likely to impress the jury, anticipate them and make the impression yourself. Secondly, when it is a question of acts, you should, if possible, turn the blame upon your adversaries, or failing that, upon some one else, urging as an excuse that you have been dragged into the suit against your will and under compulsion from your opponents. Against each particular prejudice you must urge such excuses as these: a young man, for example, should allege a lack of older friends to ght the case on his behalf, or the enormity or number of his opponents misdeeds, or the short limit of time allowed, or some other such excuse. If you are speaking on some one elses behalf, you must say that you are pleading his cause from motives of friendship for him or hatred of his opponent, or because you were present at the events in question, or for the public good, or because your client stands in need of friends and is a victim of injustice. If his character agrees with the charge brought against him or is in contradiction to the accusation which he brings, you must make use of anticipation and say that it is not just or lawful or expedient to judge from an opinion or suspicion before listening to the facts. Such, then, is the way in which we shall get rid of prejudices against a mans personality; those which concern his action we shall repudiate by transferring the blame to his adversary, or by accusing the latter of libel or injustice or greed or contentiousness or anger, alleging as an excuse that our client could not possibly obtain justice in any other way. This is how we shall get rid of personal prejudices in the law courts; those which concern a mans public life we shall refute by the various methods prescribed for the kinds of oratory already dealt with. We shall arrange the proems of forensic speeches in the same manner as those of public orations, and on the same principle we shall include the narration of facts in the proem or show them to be trustworthy and just in detail or else insert them bodily by themselves. Next will follow conrmation, by means of proofs if the facts are disputed

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by our opponents, or, if they are admitted, by considerations of justice, expediency, and the like. Of proofs we must put testimony rst and admissions made under torture, if there are any. Next we must conrm our statements, if they are plausible, by maxims and enthymemes, but, if they are not entirely plausible, by considerations of probability, and afterwards by examples, evidences, signs, and refutations, and lastly by enthymemes and maxims. If the facts are admitted, we must leave proofs alone and make use of justication as already described. Such, then, is the method of conrmation which we shall employ. After such conrmation we shall next state the arguments which we can urge against our opponents, and anticipate what they are likely to say. If they deny the facts, we must amplify the proofs which we have already stated and criticize and minimize those which they are likely to bring forward. If they admit the actions but intend32 to show that they are legal and just according to written laws, we must attempt to show that the laws which we bring forward, and laws similar to them, are just and right and to the common advantage of the state, and that this is the opinion generally held about them, while the contrary is true of the laws which our opponents are bringing forward. If it is impossible to say this, you must remind the jury that they have to give their verdict not on a point of law but on a point of fact, and that they have sworn to vote according to the established law, and you must tell them that they must not pass laws now but upon the proper days xed for that purpose. If it so happens that what has been done contravenes laws which appear to be bad,33 we must say that here we have not law but the negation of law; for law is laid down for the public benet, but this law is harmful to the state. We must say that they will not be acting illegally if they vote in contravention of this law, but will be legislating to prevent the use of bad and illegal ordinances. You can also point out that no law forbids the conferring of a public benet and that it is a benefaction to the state to annul bad laws. Regarding laws, then, of which the meaning is clear, we shall easily be able, by such methods of anticipation, to speak against any of them with which we are concerned. When there is ambiguity, if the jury understand a law in a sense which favours you, you must give it that interpretation; but if they give it the construction which your opponent puts upon it, you must tell them that this is not what the lawgiver meant but that he interpreted it as you do, and that it is to the advantage of the jury to put the construction which you do upon it. If you cannot twist the law round, point out that it cannot mean anything but what you say it means. If you follow this
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Reading mellosin for osin. Reading mochtherous dokountas einai nomous.

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method you will have no difculty as to the way in which to deal with laws. Generally speaking, if they admit the facts and intend to base their defence on pleas of justice and legality, you must employ these methods to anticipate what they are likely to say. But if they admit the facts but claim to be pardoned, you must deprive your opponents of such arguments in the following manner. First, you must say that their conduct is all the more reprehensible and that it is only when they have been found out that they admit their mistake in so acting, adding, If, therefore, you pardon the defendant, you will absolve every one else from punishment. You can say, If you acquit those who admit their mistakes, how will you be able to condemn those who do not do so? You must urge that even if he has made a mistake, there is no reason why I should suffer through his mistake. Furthermore, you must say that the lawgiver does not pardon those who make mistakes, and so the jury in giving their verdict according to the laws should not do so either. Such then, as we have stated at the beginning, are the means by which we shall refute their appeals for pardon, and, speaking generally, we shall anticipate by the method already mentioned anything which our opponents intend to say with a view either to proof or justication or pardon. Next we must iterate the whole story of the case in summary form, and, if possible, in a few words instil into the minds of the jury a feeling of hostility or anger or envy towards our opponents and of goodwill or gratitude or pity for ourselves. How this is done we have already stated in dealing with public speaking and persuasion and dissuasion, and we shall again allude to it nally in treating of the defensive style of oratory. This, then, is the way in which we shall compose and arrange our speech when we are the rst to speak and are the accusers in a forensic case. When we are defending a case, we shall frame our proem in the same way as when accusing, and we shall make no mention of the accusations, of which our opponent has informed our hearers, but after the proem we shall set forth and refute the opinions which he has put into their minds and throw discredit on his witnesses and the testimony given under torture and the oaths, in the manner already described to you. If the facts are credible, we must put our defense against them . . .34 changing to the technique of omission, and if the witnesses or those who have been examined under torture are trustworthy, we must have recourse to argument or statement of fact or any other strong point which we can bring against them. If your adversary accuses you by bringing a charge which accords with your advantage or habitual practice, you must defend yourself, if you can, by showing
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that the crime with which you are charged does not accord with your advantage; or, failing that, you must urge that it has not been the custom either of yourself or of persons like you to do such things, or to do them in such a manner. This is how you will refute the argument of probability. When he employs an example, you must rst show, if you can, that it does not resemble the crime with which you are charged, or, failing that, yourself bring forward another example to the contrary which has occurred against probability. If he employs an evidence, you must refute it by giving reasons why it implies the exact opposite, while you must show that his maxims and enthymemes are either paradoxical or ambiguous. His signs you must prove to be signs of a number of other things and not only of the charge which he is bringing against you. This, then, is the way in which we shall cause our adversarys contentions to be discredited by either interpreting them in a contrary sense or reducing them to ambiguity. If, on the other hand, we admit that we have done the acts with which we are charged, we shall base our plea on justice and legality and try to prove that our acts are juster and more legal. If this is impossible, we must resort to pleas of error or misfortune, and try to win pardon by showing that the harm which has resulted is small, pointing out that error is common to all men, while wrongdoing is peculiar to the wicked. You must urge that it is right and just and expedient to pardon errors; for no man knows whether it may not fall to his lot to commit such an error. You must also point out that your opponent claimed pardon when he committed an error. Next will come the anticipations which your adversaries have made in their speeches. Anticipations of other kinds we shall easily be able to refute by an appeal to the facts; but if they misrepresent us by saying that we read our speeches or practise them beforehand, or that we are pleading for the sake of some reward, we must meet such accusations with irony and say with regard to the writing of speeches that the law does not forbid a man to read out a written speech any more than it forbids his opponent to speak without notes; for, while it prohibits the doing of certain actions, it allows a man to make a speech in any way he likes. You must also say: My opponent considers that the wrongs which he has committed are so serious that he does not think I am doing justice to the accusation which I am bringing against him, unless I write out and take a long time to think over my speech. Such then is the way in which we must meet the misrepresentation of having written out our speech. If our opponents declare that we learn and rehearse our speeches, we shall admit it and say: We who, according to you, learn what we are going to say, are not litigious, whereas you, who declare that you do not know how to speak, have been convicted of bringing vexatious suits in the past

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and are doing so now against us; and we shall draw the conclusion that it would apparently therefore be better for the citizens, if our opponent also learned to be an orator, for then he would not be such a scoundrel and pettifogger. We shall meet the accusation that we are paid to plead in court by a similar argument admitting it and speaking ironically and pointing out that our accuser and every one else does so. You must distinguish between the different kinds of pay and say that some men plead in court for money, others as a favour, others for vengeance, others for honours. You must show that you are yourself pleading as a favour, and say that your opponent pleads for no small payment; for he is going to law that he may make money unjustly, not in order to avoid having to pay it. We must follow the same method if any one accuses us of teaching others how to plead and of composing speeches to be delivered in court. You must point out that every one else, as far as lies within his power, helps his friends by instruction and advice. Thus you will have an answer in such cases in accordance with the rules of rhetoric. You must not be slow in any questions and answers which occur in cases of this kind; but you must make a clear distinction in your answers between admissions and denials. The following are examples of admissions: Did you kill my son? Yes, I did kill him, when he, unprovoked, raised a sword against me; or again, Did you thrash my son?Yes, but he rst assaulted me; or again, Did you break my head?Yes, when you were forcing your way into my house at night. Such admissions are made in reliance on the legality of your action. Denials, on the other hand, aim at diverting the course of law, for example: Did you kill my son?No, it was not I, but the law that killed him. This is the kind of answer which you must always make when one law enjoins, while another forbids, a certain course of action. Out of all these various methods you will gather the means to meet your adversaries. Next will follow an iteration by way of brief reminder of what you have said. It is useful on all occasions and should therefore be employed in every part and in every kind of speech. It is very suitable in accusation and defence and also in persuasion and dissuasion. In my opinion we ought here not only to remind our audience, as in eulogistic and vituperative speeches, of what has been said, but we ought also to dispose our judges to be favourable towards ourselves and unfavourable to our opponents; we shall make this the last part of our speech. It is possible to refresh your hearers memory in a summary manner either by arguing or by narrating the points which you have mentioned, or by picking out the best of your own points and the worst of your opponents, or, if you like, you can use the form of a question. The nature of these methods we know from what has already

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been said. We shall win a favourable hearing for ourselves and an unfavourable one for our opponents if, as in persuasion and dissuasion, we show briey how we ourselves (or our friends) have beneted or are beneting or will benet those who are now seeking to wrong us (or those for whom they care); and point out to them that now is the opportunity to show us gratitude for our good services; and also, when it is possible, induce them to pity us. This we shall do by showing that a close tie binds us to our hearers and that we are suffering undeserved misfortune, having been unfairly treated in the past, or being so now, or being likely to be so in the future, unless they help us now. If such arguments are inapplicable, we must describe the advantages of which we have been, or are being, or are likely to be deprived, if our prayers are rejected by our judges; or show that we never have been, or are not now, or are never likely to be in enjoyment of some benet, unless they help us. For it is by these means that we shall win pity and gain the goodwill of our audience. We shall cause a prejudice and feelings of envy against our opponents by employing the opposite method and pointing out that our hearers, or those for whom they care, have received undeserved ill-treatment, or are receiving it, or are likely to receive it at the hands of our opponents or their friends; for by such arguments they will be induced to entertain feelings of hatred and anger against them. Where this is impossible, we shall collect together all the arguments by which we can create in our hearers a feeling of envy against our opponents; for envy is very near to hatred. They will be objects of envy, to put the matter briey, if we can show that they have met with undeserved prosperity and that no close ties bind them to our hearers, and point out that they have unjustly received, or are receiving, or are about to receive many benets; or that they have never in the past been without some advantage, or are not without it now, or likely to be so in the future; or that they have never met with some misfortune, or are not now meeting with it, or likely to do so, unless the judges punish them now. By these means then we shall in the peroration of our speech win favour for ourselves and disfavour for our opponents, and by following all the instructions given above we shall be able to arrange speeches for accusation and defence according to the rules of rhetoric. 37 The inquisitive kind of oratory generally occurs, not separately, but in connexion with the other styles; it is especially useful in dealing with contradictions. However, in order that we may know the arrangement of this kind of speech also, when we have to inquire into the words or manner of life or deeds of men or the administration of a city, I will describe it also in a summary manner. When

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conducting an inquiry of this kind we must begin in the same way as when refuting a prejudice; and so, after rst adducing plausible pretexts so as to make our action appear reasonable, we shall then proceed to conduct our inquiry. The following are suitable pretexts: in political assemblies, that we are adopting such a course not from party-spirit but in order that it may not escape the attention of our hearers, or again, that our adversaries molested us rst. In private suits our excuse will be a feeling of hatred or the bad character of the subjects of our inquiry or our friendship towards them in order to make them realize what they are doing and not do it again. In public trials our pretexts will be legality, justice, and the general interest. After rst treating of these and similar subjects we shall next in order set forth and inquire into each utterance or deed or intention of our opponents, showing that these are opposed to justice and legality and private and public expediency, and examining them all to see whether in any respect they contradict one another or the practice of good citizens or probability. But, not to be tedious by going into details, the more we can prove to our hearers that the conduct of the subjects of our inquiry is opposed to reputable pursuits, acts, words or habits, the greater will be the disrepute which attaches to them. We ought to conduct our inquiry not in a bitter but in a gentle spirit; for words if thus spoken will appear more persuasive to our hearers, and those who utter them will be less likely to bring prejudice upon themselves. When you have carefully inquired into everything and amplied the results, you must conclude with a brief iteration and remind your hearers of what you have said. By arranging them thus we shall be able to employ all the various kinds of oratory according to the rules of rhetoric.
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38 Both in speaking and writing we must try as far as possible to make our words accord with the principles laid down above, and accustom ourselves to practise each principle readily, and we shall have many technical expedients to enable us to make speeches according to the rules of art in private and public suits and in conversation with others; but an orator ought to be careful not only about his words but also about his personal behaviour, regulating it according to the principles already laid down; for the manner of a mans life contributes to the persuasive inuence which he exercises and to the establishment of a good reputation. In the rst place you must divide up your subject-matter according to the general system of division in which you have been instructed, and decide what you must treat of rst, secondly, thirdly, and fourthly. Next you must prepare your hearers to receive you, as I have described in dealing with the attitude to be taken towards your audience in proems. You will dispose them well towards you, if you

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are true to your promises and if you keep the same friends all your life and show yourself unchanging in your other habits and always following the same course. They will listen attentively to you, if you treat of great and noble deeds and such as promote the public good. Their goodwill having been won, when you come to practical suggestions they will accept as expedient to themselves those which procure the avoidance of evils and the provision of benets, and reject those which involve the contrary results. In order that your exposition may be quick and lucid and may command credit, you ought to make your practical suggestions as follows. You will perform your task quickly, if you do not try to do everything at once, but take the rst point rst and then the next. You will speak lucidly, if you do not suddenly leave your subject and go on to other points before you have nished it. You will command credit, if you do not act contrary to your usual character, and further if you do not pretend that the same persons are your enemies and your friends. As regards proof, where we have sure knowledge, we shall prefer to follow its guidance in prescribing plans of action, but, where we lack knowledge, we shall take what holds for the most part as our guide; for it is safest in such cases to act with a view to what usually happens. When we have adversaries to contend with, if it is a question of words, we shall obtain conrmation in support of our case from the actual words uttered; in suits about contracts we shall do so by dealing with them in accordance with unwritten and written laws with the support of the best possible testimony and within denite limits of time. As regards our peroration we shall remind our hearers of what has been said by a summary repetition of the facts; while we shall remind them of our past deeds by reference to our present deeds, when we are undertaking actions identical with, or similar to, former actions. Our hearers will be well disposed to us, if we follow a course of action which will result in their thinking themselves well treated in the past, present, or future. We shall add weight to our actions, if we deal with transactions which are likely to produce great credit. Such then is the manner in which an orator must regulate his personal behaviour; while he must practice the art of oratory according to the principles already laid down. 35 [Sacrices must be conducted, as we have already indicated, so as to be reverent towards the gods, moderate in costliness, splendid from a spectacular
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point of view, and likely to bring advantage to the citizens. They will be reverent towards the gods, if we sacrice according to ancestral custom; they will be moderate in costliness, if the accompaniments of the ceremony are not used up as well as the money actually expended; they will be splendid from a spectacular point of view, if they are magnicently appointed; they will be benecial to the citizens, if horsemen and infantry in full panoply accompany the procession. Our dealings with the gods will be reverently performed if carried out thus. We shall establish friendly relations with those who are of like character to our own and have the same interests, and with whom we are obliged to co-operate in matters of great importance; for such friendship is most likely to be permanent. We must make those men our allies, who are most righteous and are possessed of considerable power and live near at hand; those who are the contrary must be our enemies. We must undertake war against those who are trying to injure the state or her friends or her allies. The protection of the state must be secured either by personal service or by the help of allies or by mercenaries; the rst method is preferable to the second, and the second to the third. As regards the supply of resources, we must provide them rst and foremost from our own revenues and possessions, secondly by taxes on rateable property, and thirdly by personal service on the part of the poor, and the provision of arms by the craftsmen, and of money by the wealthy. As for political constitution, the best form of democracy is that under which the laws bestow the posts of dignity on the best citizens, and the people are not deprived of the rights of electing and voting; the worst form is that under which the laws deliver up the wealthy to the insolence of the mob. Oligarchies are of two kinds, being based either on political partisanship or on a property qualication. Alliances must be formed when the citizens are unable by themselves to protect their own territory and strongholds or hold the enemy in check. An alliance must be dispensed with when it is unnecessary or when the proposed allies are too far distant and unable to arrive at the opportune moment. A good citizen is one who provides the state with useful friends and few and feeble foes, and who procures for her the greatest revenue without conscating the property of a single private citizen, and who, while conducting himself righteously, exposes those who attempt any injury to the state. Men always bestow presents either in the hope of beneting themselves or in grateful return for previous services. Service is always given either for gain or honour or pleasure or fear. All dealings are carried out either by choice or unwillingly; for all facts are done either under compulsion or through persuasion or fraud or on some pretext.

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In war one side gains the upper hand either through luck, or superiority of numbers or strength or resources, or advantage of position, or excellence of allies, or skill on the part of a general. It is generally held that men should abandon their allies either because it is expedient to do so or because they have brought the war to a close. To act justly is to follow the common customs of the state, to obey the laws, and to abide by ones personal promises. Physical advantages are good condition, beauty, strength, and health; mental advantages are wisdom, prudence, courage, self-control, and justice. Wealth and friends are advantages alike to mind and body. The opposites of these are disadvantageous. To a state a multitude of good citizens is an advantage.]

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POETICS
Aristotle

The Complete Works of Aristotle

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Complete Works (Aristotle). Jonathan Barnes, Princeton University Press, Princeton, N.J. 1991.

These texts are part of the Past Masters series. This series is an attempt to collect the most important texts in the history of philosophy, both in original language and English translation (if the original language is other English). All Greek has been transliterated and is delimited with the term tag.

May 1996 Jamie L. Spriggs, InteLex Corp. publisher Converted from Folio Flat File to TEI.2-compatible SGML; checked against print text; parsed against local teilite dtd.

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ARISTOTLE THE REVISED OXFORD TRANSLATION Edited by JONATHAN BARNES VOLUME TWO BOLLINGEN SERIES LXXI 2 PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS Copyright 1984 by The Jowett Copyright Trustees Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William St., Princeton, New Jersey In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, Oxford No part of this electronic edition may be printed without written permission from The Jowett Copyright Trustees and Princeton University Press. All Rights Reserved THIS IS PART TWO OF THE SEVENTY-FIRST IN A SERIES OF WORKS SPONSORED BY BOLLINGEN FOUNDATION Printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey Second Printing, 1985 Fourth Printing, 1991 987654

Contents
Preface . . . . . . . Acknowledgements Note to the Reader POETICS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii v vi 2

PREFACE
BENJAMIN JOWETT1 published his translation of Aristotles Politics in 1885, and he nursed the desire to see the whole of Aristotle done into English. In his will he left the perpetual copyright on his writings to Balliol College, desiring that any royalties should be invested and that the income from the investment should be applied in the rst place to the improvement or correction of his own books, and secondly to the making of New Translations or Editions of Greek Authors. In a codicil to the will, appended less than a month before his death, he expressed the hope that the translation of Aristotle may be nished as soon as possible. The Governing Body of Balliol duly acted on Jowetts wish: J. A. Smith, then a Fellow of Balliol and later Waynete Professor of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, and W. D. Ross, a Fellow of Oriel College, were appointed as general editors to supervise the project of translating all of Aristotles writings into English; and the College came to an agreement with the Delegates of the Clarendon Press for the publication of the work. The rst volume of what came to be known as The Oxford Translation of Aristotle appeared in 1908. The work continued under the joint guidance of Smith and Ross, and later under Rosss sole editorship. By 1930, with the publication of the eleventh volume, the whole of the standard corpus aristotelicum had been put into English. In 1954 Ross added a twelfth volume, of selected fragments, and thus completed the task begun almost half a century earlier. The translators whom Smith and Ross collected together included the most eminent English Aristotelians of the age; and the translations reached a remarkable standard of scholarship and delity to the text. But no translation is perfect, and all translations date: in 1976, the Jowett Trustees, in whom the copyright of the Translation lies, determined to commission a revision of the entire text. The Oxford Translation was to remain in substance its original self; but alterations were to be made, where advisable, in the light of recent scholarship and with the requirements of modern readers in mind. The present volumes thus contain a revised Oxford Translation: in all but three treatises, the original versions have been conserved with only mild emendations.
The text of Aristotle: The Complete Works is The Revised Oxford Translation of The Complete Works of Aristotle, edited by Jonathan Barnes, and published by Princeton University Press in 1984. Each reference line contains the approximate Bekker number range of the paragraph if the work in question was included in the Bekker edition.
1

PREFACE

iii

(The three exceptions are the Categories and de Interpretatione, where the translations of J. L. Ackrill have been substituted for those of E. M. Edgehill, and the Posterior Analytics, where G. R. G. Mures version has been replaced by that of J. Barnes. The new translations have all been previously published in the Clarendon Aristotle series.) In addition, the new Translation contains the tenth book of the History of Animals, and the third book of the Economics, which were not done for the original Translation; and the present selection from the fragments of Aristotles lost works includes a large number of passages which Ross did not translate. In the original Translation, the amount and scope of annotation differed greatly from one volume to the next: some treatises carried virtually no footnotes, others (notably the biological writings) contained almost as much scholarly commentary as textthe work of Ogle on the Parts of Animals or of dArcy Thompson on the History of Animals, Beares notes to On Memory or Joachims to On Indivisible Lines, were major contributions to Aristotelian scholarship. Economy has demanded that in the revised Translation annotation be kept to a minimum; and all the learned notes of the original version have been omitted. While that omission represents a considerable impoverishment, it has reduced the work to a more manageable bulk, and at the same time it has given the constituent translations a greater uniformity of character. It might be added that the revision is thus closer to Jowetts own intentions than was the original Translation. The revisions have been slight, more abundant in some treatises than in others but amounting, on the average, to some fty alterations for each Bekker page of Greek. Those alterations can be roughly classied under four heads. (i) A quantity of work has been done on the Greek text of Aristotle during the past half century: in many cases new and better texts are now available, and the reviser has from time to time emended the original Translation in the light of this research. (But he cannot claim to have made himself intimate with all the textual studies that recent scholarship has thrown up.) A standard text has been taken for each treatise, and the few departures from it, where they affect the sense, have been indicated in footnotes. On the whole, the reviser has been conservative, sometimes against his inclination. (ii) There are occasional errors or infelicities of translation in the original version: these have been corrected insofar as they have been observed. (iii) The English of the original Translation now seems in some respects archaic in its vocabulary and in its syntax: no attempt has been made to impose a consistently modern style upon the translations, but where archaic English might mislead the modern reader, it has been replaced by more current idiom.

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(iv) The fourth class of alterations accounts for the majority of changes made by the reviser. The original Translation is often paraphrastic: some of the translators used paraphrase freely and deliberately, attempting not so much to English Aristotles Greek as to explain in their own words what he was intending to conveythus translation turns by slow degrees into exegesis. Others construed their task more narrowly, but even in their more modest versions expansive paraphrase from time to time intrudes. The revision does not pretend to eliminate paraphrase altogether (sometimes paraphrase is venial; nor is there any precise boundary between translation and paraphrase); but it does endeavor, especially in the logical and philosophical parts of the corpus, to replace the more blatantly exegetical passages of the original by something a little closer to Aristotles text. The general editors of the original Translation did not require from their translators any uniformity in the rendering of technical and semitechnical terms. Indeed, the translators themselves did not always strive for uniformity within a single treatise or a single book. Such uniformity is surely desirable; but to introduce it would have been a massive task, beyond the scope of this revision. Some effort has, however, been made to remove certain of the more capricious variations of translation (especially in the more philosophical of Aristotles treatises). Nor did the original translators try to mirror in their English style the style of Aristotles Greek. For the most part, Aristotle is terse, compact, abrupt, his arguments condensed, his thought dense. For the most part, the Translation is owing and expansive, set out in well-rounded periods and expressed in a language which is usually literary and sometimes orotund. To that extent the Translation produces a false impression of what it is like to read Aristotle in the original; and indeed it is very likely to give a misleading idea of the nature of Aristotles philosophizing, making it seem more polished and nished than it actually is. In the revisers opinion, Aristotles sinewy Greek is best translated into correspondingly tough English; but to achieve that would demand a new translation, not a revision. No serious attempt has been made to alter the style of the originala style which, it should be said, is in itself elegant enough and pleasing to read. The reviser has been aided by several friends; and he would like to acknowledge in particular the help of Mr. Gavin Lawrence and Mr. Donald Russell. He remains acutely conscious of the numerous imperfections that are left. Yetas Aristotle himself would have put itthe work was laborious, and the reader must forgive the reviser for his errors and give him thanks for any improvements which he may chance to have effected. March 1981 J. B.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE TRANSLATIONS of the Categories and the de Interpretatione are reprinted here by permission of Professor J. L. Ackrill and Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1963); the translation of the Posterior Analytics is reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1975); the translation of the third book of the Economics is reprinted by permission of The Loeb Classical Library (William Heinemann and Harvard University Press); the translation of the fragments of the Protrepticus is based, with the authors generous permission, on the version by Professor Ingemar D uring.

NOTE TO THE READER

THE TRADITIONAL corpus aristotelicum contains several works which were certainly or probably not written by Aristotle. A single asterisk against the title of a work indicates that its authenticity has been seriously doubted; a pair of asterisks indicates that its spuriousness has never been seriously contested. These asterisks appear both in the Table of Contents and on the title pages of the individual works concerned. The title page of each work contains a reference to the edition of the Greek text against which the translation has been checked. References are by editors name, series or publisher (OCT stands for Oxford Classical Texts), and place and date of publication. In those places where the translation deviates from the chosen text and prefers a different reading in the Greek, a footnote marks the fact and indicates which reading is preferred; such places are rare. The numerals printed in the outer margins key the translation to Immanuel Bekkers standard edition of the Greek text of Aristotle of 1831. References consist of a page number, a column letter, and a line number. Thus 1343a marks column one of page 1343 of Bekkers edition; and the following 5, 10, 15, etc. stand against lines 5, 10, 15, etc. of that column of text. Bekker references of this type are found in most editions of Aristotles works, and they are used by all scholars who write about Aristotle.

POETICS

POETICS
Translated by I. Bywater2
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1 I propose to speak not only of poetry in general but also of its species and their respective capacities; of the structure of plot required for a good poem; of the number and nature of the constituent parts of a poem; and likewise of any other matters in the same line of inquiry. Let us follow the natural order and begin with rst principles. Epic poetry and tragedy, as also comedy, dithyrambic poetry, and most uteplaying and lyre-playing, are all, viewed as a whole, modes of imitation. But they differ from one another in three ways, either in their means, or in their objects, or in the manner of their imitations. Just as colour and form are used as means by some, who (whether by art or constant practice) imitate and portray many things by their aid, and the voice is used by others; so also in the above-mentioned group of arts, the means with them as a whole are rhythm, language, and harmonyused, however, either singly or in certain combinations. A combination of harmony and rhythm alone is the means in ute-playing and lyre-playing, and any other arts there may be of the same description, e.g. imitative piping. Rhythm alone, without harmony, is the means in the dancers imitations; for even he, by the rhythms of his attitudes, may represent mens characters, as well as what they do and suffer. There is further an art which imitates by language alone, and one which imitates by metres, either one or a plurality of metres. These forms of imitation are still nameless today. We have no common name for a mime of Sophron or Xenarchus and a Socratic Conversation; and we should still be without one even if the imitation in the two instances were in trimeters or elegiacs or some other kind of versethough it is the way
2

TEXT: R. Kassel, OCT, Oxford, 1965

POETICS

with people to tack on poet to the name of a metre, and talk of elegiac poets and epic poets, thinking that they call them poets not by reason of the imitative nature of their work, but generally by reason of the metre they write in. Even if a theory of medicine or physical philosophy be put forth in a metrical form, it is usual to describe the writer in this way; Homer and Empedocles, however, have really nothing in common apart from their metre; so that, if the one is to be called a poet, the other should be termed a physicist rather than a poet. We should be in the same position also, if the imitation in these instances were in all the metres, like the Centaur (a rhapsody in a medley of all metres) of Chaeremon; and Chaeremon one has to recognize as a poet. So much, then, as to these arts. There are, lastly, certain other arts, which combine all the means enumerated, rhythm, melody, and verse, e.g. dithyrambic and nomic poetry, tragedy and comedy; with this difference, however, that the three kinds of means are in some of them all employed together, and in others brought in separately, one after the other. These elements of difference in the above arts I term the means of their imitation. 2 The objects the imitator represents are actions, with agents who are necessarily either good men or badthe diversities of human character being nearly always derivative from this primary distinction, since it is by badness and excellence men differ in character. It follows, therefore, that the agents represented must be either above our own level of goodness, or beneath it, or just such as we are; in the same way as, with the painters, the personages of Polygnotus are better than we are, those of Pauson worse, and those of Dionysius just like ourselves. It is clear that each of the above-mentioned arts will admit of these differences, and that it will become a separate art by representing objects with this point of difference. Even in dancing, ute-playing, and lyre-playing such diversities are possible; and they are also possible in the nameless art that uses language, prose or verse without harmony, as its means; Homers personages, for instance, are better than we are; Cleophons are on our own level; and those of Hegemon of Thasos, the rst writer of parodies, and Nicochares, the author of the Diliad, are beneath it. The same is true of the dithyramb and the nome: the personages may be presented in them with the difference exemplied . . .3 in the Cyclopses of Timotheus and Philoxenus. This difference it is that distinguishes Tragedy and Comedy also; the one would make its personages worse, and the other better, than the men of the present day. 3 A third difference in these arts is in the manner in which each kind of
3

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object is represented. Given both the same means and the same kind of object for imitation, one may either speak at one moment in narrative and at another in an assumed character, as Homer does; or one may remain the same throughout, without any such change; or the imitators may represent the whole story dramatically, as though they were actually doing the things described.4 As we said at the beginning, therefore, the differences in the imitation of these arts come under three heads, their means, their objects, and their manner. So that as an imitator Sophocles will be on one side akin to Homer, both portraying good men; and on another to Aristophanes, since both present their personages as acting and doing. This in fact, according to some, is the reason for plays being termed dramas, because in a play the personages act the story. Hence too both tragedy and comedy are claimed by the Dorians as their discoveries; Comedy by the Megariansby those in Greece as having arisen when Megara became a democracy, and by the Sicilian Megarians on the ground that the poet Epicharmus was of their country, and a good deal earlier than Chionides and Magnes; and Tragedy is claimed by certain of the Peloponnesian Dorians. In support of this claim they point to the words comedy and drama. Their word for the outlying hamlets, they say, is comae, whereas Athenians call them demesthus assuming that comedians got the name not from their comoe or revels, but from their strolling from hamlet to hamlet, lack of appreciation keeping them out of the city. Their word also for to act, they say, is dran, whereas Athenians use prattein. So much, then, as to the number and nature of the points of difference in the imitation of these arts. 4 It is clear that the general origin of poetry was due to two causes, each of them part of human nature. Imitation is natural to man from childhood, one of his advantages over the lower animals being this, that he is the most imitative creature in the world, and learns at rst by imitation. And it is also natural for all to delight in works of imitation. The truth of this second point is shown by experience: though the objects themselves may be painful to see, we delight to view the most realistic representations of them in art, the forms for example of the lowest animals and of dead bodies. The explanation is to be found in a further fact: to be learning something is the greatest of pleasures not only to the philosopher but also to the rest of mankind, however small their capacity for it; the reason of the delight in seeing the picture is that one is at the same time learninggathering the meaning of things, e.g. that the man there is so-and-so; for if one has not seen
4

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the thing before, ones pleasure will not be in the picture as an imitation of it, but will be due to the execution or colouring or some similar cause. Imitation, then, being natural to usas also the sense of harmony and rhythm, the metres being obviously species of rhythmsit was through their original aptitude, and by a series of improvements for the most part gradual on their rst efforts, that they created poetry out of their improvisations. Poetry, however, soon broke up into two kinds according to the differences of character in the individual poets; for the graver among them would represent noble actions, and those of noble personages; and the meaner sort the actions of the ignoble. The latter class produced invectives at rst, just as others did hymns and panegyrics. We know of no such poem by any of the pre-Homeric poets, though there were probably many such writers among them; instances, however, may be found from Homer downwards, e.g. his Margites, and the similar poems of others. In this poetry of invective its natural tness brought an iambic metre into use; hence our present term iambic, because it was the metre of their iambs or invectives against one another. The result was that the old poets became some of them writers of heroic and others of iambic verse. Homer, just as he was in the serious style the poet of poets, standing alone not only through the excellence, but also through the dramatic character of his imitations, so also was he the rst to outline for us the general forms of comedy by producing not a dramatic invective, but a dramatic picture of the ridiculous; his Margites in fact stands in the same relation to our comedies as the Iliad and Odyssey to our tragedies. As soon, however, as tragedy and comedy appeared in the eld, those naturally drawn to the one line of poetry became writers of comedies instead of iambs, and those naturally drawn to the other, writers of tragedies instead of epics, because these new modes of art were grander and of more esteem than the old. If it be asked whether tragedy is now all that it need be in its formative elements, to consider that, and decide it theoretically and in relation to the theatres, is a matter for another inquiry. It certainly began in improvisationsas did also comedy; the one originating with the authors of the dithyramb, the other with those of the phallic songs, which still survive as institutions in many of our cities. And its advance after that was little by little, through their improving on whatever they had before them at each stage. It was in fact only after a long series of changes that the movement of tragedy stopped on its attaining to its natural form. The number of actors was rst increased to two by Aeschylus, who curtailed the business of the Chorus, and made the dialogue take the leading part in the play. A third actor and scenery were due to Sophocles. Tragedy acquired also its magnitude. Discarding short stories

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and a ludicrous diction, through its passing out of its satyric stage, it assumed, though only at a late point in its progress, a tone of dignity; and its metre changed then from trochaic to iambic. The reason for their original use of the trochaic tetrameter was that their poetry was satyric and more connected with dancing than it now is. As soon, however, as a spoken part came in, the very nature of the thing found the appropriate metre. The iambic, we know, is the most speakable of metres, as is shown by the fact that we very often fall into it in conversation, whereas we rarely talk hexameters, and only when we depart from the speaking tone of voice. Another change was a plurality of episodes. As for the remaining matters, the embellishments and the account of their introduction, these must be taken as said, as it would probably be a long piece of work to go through the details.
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5 As for comedy, it is (as has been observed) an imitation of men worse than the average; worse, however, not as regards any and every sort of fault, but only as regards one particular kind, the ridiculous, which is a species of the ugly. The ridiculous may be dened as a mistake or deformity not productive of pain or harm to others; the mask, for instance, that excites laughter, is something ugly and distorted without causing pain. Though the successive changes in tragedy and their authors are not unknown, we cannot say the same of comedy; its early stages passed unnoticed, because it was not as yet taken up in a serious way. It was only at a late point in its progress that a chorus of comedians was ofcially granted by the archon; they used to be mere volunteers. It had also already certain denite forms at the time when the record of those termed comic poets begins. Who it was who supplied it with masks, or prologues, or a plurality of actors and the like, has remained unknown. The making of plots, however, originated in Sicily; of Athenian poets Crates was the rst to drop the comedy of invective and frame stories and plots of a general nature. Epic poetry, then, has been seen to resemble tragedy to this extent, that of being an imitation of serious subjects in metre. It differs from it, however, in that it is in one kind of verse and in narrative form; and also by its lengthwhich is due to its action having no xed limit of time, whereas tragedy endeavours to keep as far as possible within a single circuit of the sun, or something near that. This, I say, is another point of difference between them, though at rst the practice in this respect was just the same in tragedies as in epic poems. They differ also in their constituents, some being common to both and others peculiar to tragedyhence a judge of good and bad in tragedy is a judge of that in epic poetry also. All the

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parts of an epic are included in tragedy; but those of tragedy are not all of them to be found in the epic. 6 Reserving hexameter poetry and comedy for consideration hereafter, let us proceed now to the discussion of tragedy; before doing so, however, we must gather up the denition resulting from what has been said. A tragedy, then, is the imitation of an action that is serious and also, as having magnitude, complete in itself; in language with pleasurable accessories, each kind brought in separately in the parts of the work; in a dramatic, not in a narrative form; with incidents arousing pity and fear, wherewith to accomplish its catharsis of such emotions Here by language with pleasurable accessories I mean that with rhythm and harmony; and by the kinds separately I mean that some portions are worked out with verse only, and others in turn with song. As they act the stories, it follows that in the rst place the spectacle must be some part of the whole; and in the second melody and diction, these two being the means of their imitation. Here by diction I mean merely this, the composition of the verses; and by melody, what is too completely understood to require explanation. But further: the subject represented also is an action; and the action involves agents, who must necessarily have their distinctive qualities both of character and thought, since it is from these that we ascribe certain qualities to their actions, and in virtue of these that they all succeed or fail. Now the action is represented in the play by the plot. The plot, in our present sense of the term, is simply this, the combination of the incidents, or things done in the story; whereas character is what makes us ascribe certain qualities to the agents; and thought is shown in all they say when proving a particular point or, it may be, enunciating a general truth. There are six parts consequently of every tragedy, that make it the sort of tragedy it is, viz. a plot, characters, diction, thought, spectacle, and melody; two of them arising from the means, one from the manner, and three from the objects of the dramatic imitation; and there is nothing else besides these six. Of these, its formative elements, then, not a few of the dramatists have made due use, as every play, one may say, admits of spectacle, character, plot, diction, melody, and thought.5 The most important of the six is the combination of the incidents of the story. Tragedy is essentially an imitation not of persons but of action and life. [All human happiness or misery takes the form of action; the end for which we live is a certain kind of activity, not a quality. Character gives us qualities, but it is in our
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actions that we are happy or the reverse.]6 In a play accordingly they do not act in order to portray the characters; they include the characters for the sake of the action. So that it is the action in it, i.e. its plot, that is the end and purpose of the tragedy; and the end is everywhere the chief thing. Besides this, a tragedy is impossible without action, but there might be one without Character. The tragedies of most of the moderns are characterlessa characteristic common among poets of all kinds, and with its counterpart in painting in Zeuxis as compared with Polygnotus; for whereas the latter is strong in character, the work of Zeuxis is devoid of it. And again: one may string together a series of characteristic speeches of the utmost nish as regards diction and thought, and yet fail to produce the true tragic effect; but one will have much better success with a tragedy which, however inferior in these respects, has a plot, a combination of incidents, in it. And again: the most powerful elements of attraction in Tragedy, the peripeties and discoveries, are parts of the plot. A further proof is in the fact that beginners succeed earlier with the diction and characters than with the construction of a story; and the same may be said of nearly all the early dramatists. We maintain, therefore, that the rst essential, the life and soul, so to speak, of tragedy is the plot; and that the characters come secondcompare the parallel in painting, where the most beautiful colours laid on without order will not give one the same pleasure as a simple black-and-white sketch of a portrait. We maintain that tragedy is primarily an imitation of action, and that it is mainly for the sake of the action that it imitates the personal agents. Third comes the element of thought, i.e. the power of saying whatever can be said, or what is appropriate to the occasion. This is what, in the speeches in tragedy, falls under the arts of politics and rhetoric; for the older poets make their personages discourse like statesmen, and the moderns like orators. One must not confuse it with character. Character in a play is that which reveals the choice of the agentshence there is no room for character in a speech on a purely indifferent subject. Thought, on the other hand, is shown in all they say when proving or disproving some particular point, or enunciating some universal proposition. Fourth among the literary elements7 is the diction of the personages, i.e., as before explained, the expression of their thoughts in words, which is practically the same thing with verse as with prose. As for the two remaining parts, the Melody is the greatest of the pleasurable accessories of Tragedy. The spectacle, though an attraction, is the least artistic of all the parts, and has least to do with the art of poetry. The tragic effect is quite possible without a public performance
6 7

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and actors; and besides, the getting-up of the spectacle is more a matter for the designer than the poet. 7 Having thus distinguished the parts, let us now consider the proper construction of the plot, as that is at once the rst and the most important thing in tragedy. We have laid it down that a tragedy is an imitation of an action that is complete in itself, as a whole of some magnitude; for a whole may be of no magnitude to speak of. Now a whole is that which has beginning, middle, and end. A beginning is that which is not itself necessarily after anything else, and which has naturally something else after it; an end is that which is naturally after something itself, either as its necessary or usual consequent, and with nothing else after it; and a middle, that which is by nature after one thing and has also another after it. A well-constructed plot, therefore, cannot either begin or end at any point one likes; beginning and end in it must be of the forms just described. Again: to be beautiful, a living creature, and every whole made up of parts, must not only present a certain order in its arrangement of parts, but also be of a certain denite magnitude. Beauty is a matter of size and order, and therefore impossible either in a very minute creature, since our perception becomes indistinct as it approaches instantaneity; or in a creature of vast sizeone, say, 1,000 miles longas in that case, instead of the object being seen all at once, the unity and wholeness of it is lost to the beholder. Just in the same way, then, as a beautiful whole made up of parts, or a beautiful living creature, must be of some size, but a size to be taken in by the eye, so a story or plot must be of some length, but of a length to be taken in by the memory. As for the limit of its length, so far as that is relative to public performances and spectators, it does not fall within the theory of poetry. If they had to perform a hundred tragedies, they would be timed by water-clocks, as they are said to have been at one period.8 The limit, however, set by the actual nature of the thing is this: the longer the story, consistently with its being comprehensible as a whole, the ner it is by reason of its magnitude. As a rough general formula, a length which allows of the hero passing by a series of probable or necessary stages from bad fortune to good, or from good to bad, may sufce as a limit for the magnitude of the story. 8 The unity of a plot does not consist, as some suppose, in its having one man as its subject. An innity of things befall that one man, some of which it is impossible to reduce to unity; and in like manner there are many actions of one man which cannot be made to form one action. One sees, therefore, the mistake
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of all the poets who have written a Heracleid, a Theseid, or similar poems; they suppose that, because Heracles was one man, the story also of Heracles must be one story. Homer, however, evidently understood this point quite well, whether by art or instinct, just in the same way as he excels the rest in every other respect. In writing an Odyssey, he did not make the poem cover all that ever befell his heroit befell him, for instance, to get wounded on Parnassus and also to feign madness at the time of the call to arms, but the two incidents had no necessary or probable connexion with one anotherinstead of doing that, he took as the subject of the Odyssey, as also of the Iliad, an action with a unity of the kind we are describing. The truth is that, just as in the other imitative arts one imitation is always of one thing, so in poetry the story, as an imitation of action, must represent one action, a complete whole, with its several incidents so closely connected that the transposition or withdrawal of any one of them will disjoin and dislocate the whole. For that which makes no perceptible difference by its presence or absence is no real part of the whole.
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9 From what we have said it will be seen that the poets function is to describe, not the thing that has happened, but a kind of thing that might happen, i.e. what is possible as being probable or necessary. The distinction between historian and poet is not in the one writing prose and the other verseyou might put the work of Herodotus into verse, and it would still be a species of history; it consists really in this, that the one describes the thing that has been, and the other a kind of thing that might be. Hence poetry is something more philosophic and of graver import than history, since its statements are of the nature rather of universals, whereas those of history are singulars. By a universal statement I mean one as to what such or such a kind of man will probably or necessarily say or do which is the aim of poetry, though it afxes proper names to the characters; by a singular statement, one as to what, say, Alcibiades did or had done to him. In comedy this has become clear by this time; it is only when their plot is already made up of probable incidents that they give it a basis of proper names, choosing for the purpose any names that may occur to them, instead of writing like the old iambic poets about particular persons. In Tragedy, however, they still adhere to the historic names; and for this reason: what convinces is the possible; now whereas we are not yet sure as to the possibility of that which has not happened, that which has happened is manifestly possible, otherwise it would not have happened. Nevertheless even in tragedy there are some plays with but one or two known names in them, the rest being inventions; and there are some without a single known name, e.g. Agathons Antheus, in which both incidents and names are of

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the poets invention; and it is no less delightful on that account. So that one must not aim at a rigid adherence to the traditional stories on which tragedies are based. It would be absurd, in fact, to do so, as even the known stories are only known to a few, though they are a delight none the less to all. It is evident from the above that the poet must be more the poet of his plots than of his verses, inasmuch as he is a poet by virtue of the imitative element in his work, and it is actions that he imitates. And if he should come to take a subject from actual history, he is none the less a poet for that; since some historic occurrences may very well be in the probable order of things; and it is in that aspect of them that he is their poet. Of simple plots and actions the episodic are the worst. I call a plot episodic when there is neither probability nor necessity in the sequence of its episodes. Actions of this sort bad poets construct through their own fault, and good ones on account of the players. His work being for public performance, a good poet often stretches out a plot beyond its capabilities, and is thus obliged to twist the sequence of incident. Tragedy, however, is an imitation not only of a complete action, but also of incidents arousing pity and fear. Such incidents have the very greatest effect on the mind when they occur unexpectedly and at the same time in consequence of one another; there is more of the marvellous in them than if they happened of themselves or by mere chance. Even matters of chance seem most marvellous if there is an appearance of design as it were in them; as for instance the statue of Mitys at Argos killed the author of Mitys death by falling down on him when he was looking at it; for incidents like that we think to be not without a meaning. A plot, therefore, of this sort is necessarily ner than others. 10 Plots are either simple or complex, since the actions they represent are naturally of this twofold description. The action, proceeding in the way dened, as one continuous whole, I call simple, when the change in the heros fortunes takes place without reversal or discovery; and complex, when it involves one or the other, or both. These should each of them arise out of the structure of the plot itself, so as to be the consequence, necessary or probable, of the antecedents. There is a great difference between a thing happening propter hoc and post hoc. 11 A reversal of fortune is the change of the kind described from one state of things within the play to its opposite, and that too as we say, in the probable or necessary sequence of events; as it is for instance in Oedipus: here the opposite state of things is produced by the Messenger, who, coming to gladden Oedipus and

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to remove his fears as to his mother, reveals the secret of his birth. And in Lynceus: just as he is being led off for execution, with Danaus at his side to put him to death, the incidents preceding this bring it about that he is saved and Danaus put to death. A discovery is, as the very word implies, a change from ignorance to knowledge, and thus to either love or hate, in the personages marked for good or evil fortune. The nest form of discovery is one attended by reversal, like that which goes with the discovery in Oedipus. There are no doubt other forms of it; what we have said may happen in a way9 in reference to inanimate things, even things of a very casual kind; and it is also possible to discover whether some one has done or not done something. But the form most directly connected with the plot and the action of the piece is the rst-mentioned. This, with a reversal, will arouse either pity or fearactions of that nature being what tragedy is assumed to represent; and it will also serve to bring about the happy or unhappy ending. The discovery, then, being of persons, it may be that of one party only to the other, the latter being already known; or both the parties may have to discover each other. Iphigenia, for instance, was discovered to Orestes by sending the letter; and another discovery was required to reveal him to Iphigenia. Two parts of the plot, then, reversal and discovery, are on matters of this sort. A third part is suffering; which we may dene as an action of a destructive or painful nature, such as murders on the stage, tortures, woundings, and the like. The other two have been already explained. 12 The parts of tragedy to be treated as formative elements in the whole were mentioned in a previous chapter. From the point of view, however, of its quantity, i.e. the separate sections into which it is divided, a tragedy has the following parts: prologue, episode, exode, and a choral portion, distinguished into parode and stasimon; these two are common to all tragedies, whereas songs from the stage and Commoe are only found in some. The prologue is all that precedes the parode of the chorus; an episode all that comes in between two whole choral songs; the exode all that follows after the last choral song. In the choral portion the parode is the whole rst statement of the chorus; a stasimon, a song of the chorus without anapaests or trochees; a Commos, a lamentation sung by chorus and actor in concert. The parts of tragedy to be used as formative elements in the whole we have already mentioned; the above are its parts from the point of view of its quantity, or the separate sections into which it is divided. 13 The next points after what we have said above will be these: what is the
9

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Text uncertain.

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poet to aim at, and what is he to avoid, in constructing his Plots? and what are the conditions on which the tragic effect depends? We assume that, for the nest form of tragedy, the plot must be not simple but complex; and further, that it must imitate actions arousing fear and pity, since that is the distinctive function of this kind of imitation. It follows, therefore, that there are three forms of plot to be avoided. A good man must not be seen passing from good fortune to bad, or a bad man from bad fortune to good. The rst situation is not fear-inspiring or piteous, but simply odious to us. The second is the most untragic that can be; it has no one of the requisites of tragedy; it does not appeal either to the human feeling in us, or to our pity, or to our fears. Nor, on the other hand, should an extremely bad man be seen falling from good fortune into bad. Such a story may arouse the human feeling in us, but it will not move us to either pity or fear; pity is occasioned by undeserved misfortune, and fear by that of one like ourselves; so that there will be nothing either piteous or fear-inspiring in the situation. There remains, then, the intermediate kind of personage, a man not preeminently virtuous and just, whose misfortune, however, is brought upon him not by vice and depravity but by some fault, of the number of those in the enjoyment of great reputation and prosperity; e.g. Oedipus, Thyestes, and the men of note of similar families. The perfect plot, accordingly, must have a single, and not (as some tell us) a double issue; the change in the subjects fortunes must be not from bad fortune to good, but on the contrary from good to bad; and the cause of it must lie not in any depravity, but in some great fault on his part; the man himself being either such as we have described, or better, not worse, than that. Fact also conrms our theory. Though the poets began by accepting any tragic story that came to hand, in these days the nest tragedies are always on the story of some few houses, on that of Alcmeon, Oedipus, Orestes, Meleager, Thyestes, Telephus, or any others that may have been involved, as either agents or sufferers, in some deed of horror. The theoretically best tragedy, then, has a plot of this description. The critics, therefore, are wrong who blame Euripides for taking this line in his tragedies, and giving many of them an unhappy ending. It is, as we have said, the right line to take. The best proof is this: on the stage, and in the public performances, such plays, properly worked out, are seen to be the most truly tragic; and Euripides, even if his execution be faulty in every other point, is seen to be nevertheless the most tragic certainly of the dramatists. After this comes the construction of plot which some rank rst, one with a double story (like the Odyssey) and an opposite issue for the good and the bad personages. It is ranked as rst only through the weakness of the audiences; the poets merely follow their public, writing as its wishes dictate. But the pleasure here is not that

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of tragedy. It belongs rather to comedy, where the bitterest enemies in the piece (e.g. Orestes and Aegisthus) walk off good friends at the end, with no slaying of any one by any one.
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14 The tragic fear and pity may be aroused by the spectacle; but they may also be aroused by the very structure and incidents of the playwhich is the better way and shows the better poet. The plot in fact should be so framed that, even without seeing the things take place, he who simply hears the account of them shall be lled with horror and pity at the incidents; which is just the effect that the mere recital of the story in Oedipus would have on one. To produce this same effect by means of the spectacle is less artistic, and requires extraneous aid. Those, however, who make use of the spectacle to put before us that which is merely monstrous and not productive of fear, are wholly out of touch with tragedy; not every kind of pleasure should be required of a tragedy, but only its own proper pleasure. The tragic pleasure is that of pity and fear, and the poet has to produce it by a work of imitation; it is clear, therefore, that the causes should be included in the incidents of his story. Let us see, then, what kinds of incident strike one as horrible, or rather as piteous. In a deed of this description the parties must necessarily be either friends, or enemies, or indifferent to one another. Now when enemy does it on enemy, there is nothing to move us to pity either in his doing or in his meditating the deed, except so far as the actual pain of the sufferer is concerned; and the same is true when the parties are indifferent to one another. Whenever the tragic deed, however, is done among friendswhen murder or the like is done or meditated by brother on brother, by son on father, by mother on son, or son on motherthese are the situations the poet should seek after. The traditional stories, accordingly, must be kept as they are, e.g. the murder of Clytaemnestra by Orestes and of Eriphyle by Alcmeon. At the same time even with these there is something left to the poet himself; it is for him to devise the right way of treating them. Let us explain more clearly what we mean by the right way. The deed of horror may be done by the doer knowingly and consciously, as in the old poets, and in Medeas murder of her children in Euripides. Or he may do it, but in ignorance of his relationship, and discover that afterwards, as does the Oedipus in Sophocles. Here the deed is outside the play; but it may be within it, like the act of the Alcmeon in Astydamas, or that of the Telegonus in Ulysses Wounded. A third possibility is for one meditating some deadly injury to another, in ignorance of his relationship, to make the discovery in time to draw back. These exhaust the possibilities, since the deed must necessarily be either done or not done, and

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either knowingly or unknowingly. The worst situation is when the personage is with full knowledge on the point of doing the deed, and leaves it undone. It is odious and also (through the absence of suffering) untragic; hence it is that no one is made to act thus except in some few instances, e.g. Haemon and Creon in Antigone. Next after this comes the actual perpetration of the deed meditated. A better situation than that, however, is for the deed to be done in ignorance, and the relationship discovered afterwards, since there is nothing odious in it, and the discovery will serve to astound us. But the best of all is the last; what we have in Cresphontes, for example, where Merope, on the point of slaying her son, recognizes him in time; in Iphigenia, where sister and brother are in a like position; and in Helle, where the son recognizes his mother, when on the point of giving her up to her enemy. This will explain why our tragedies are restricted (as we said just now) to such a small number of families. It was accident rather than art that led the poets in quest of subjects to embody this kind of incident in their plots. They are still obliged, accordingly, to have recourse to the families in which such honours have occurred. On the construction of the plot, and the kind of plot required for tragedy, enough has now been said. 15 In the characters there are four points to aim at. First and foremost, that they shall be good. There will be an element of character in the play, if (as has been observed) what a personage says or does reveals a certain choice; and a good element of character, if the purpose so revealed is good. Such goodness is possible in every type of personage, even in a woman or a slave, though the one is perhaps an inferior, and the other a wholly worthless being. The second point is to make them appropriate. The character before us may be, say, manly; but it is not appropriate in a female character to be manly, or clever. The third is to make them like the reality, which is not the same as their being good and appropriate, in our sense of the term. The fourth is to make them consistent and the same throughout; even if inconsistency be part of the man before one for imitation as presenting that form of character, he should still be consistently inconsistent. We have an instance of baseness of character, not required for the story, in the Menelaus in Orestes; of the incongruous and unbetting in the lamentation of Ulysses in Scylla, and in the speech of Melanippe; and of inconsistency in Iphigenia at Aulis, where Iphigenia the suppliant is utterly unlike the later Iphigenia. The right thing, however, is in the characters just as in the incidents of the play to seek after the necessary or the probable; so that whenever such-and-such a personage says or does such-

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and-such a thing, it shall be the necessary or probable outcome of his character; and whenever this incident follows on that, it shall be either the necessary or the probable consequence of it. From this one sees that the d enouement also should arise out of the plot itself, and not depend on a stage-artice, as in Medea or in the story of the departure of the Greeks in the Iliad. The artice must be reserved for matters outside the playfor past events beyond human knowledge, or events yet to come, which require to be foretold or announced; since it is the privilege of the gods to know everything. There should be nothing improbable among the actual incidents. If it be unavoidable, however, it should be outside the tragedy, like the improbability in the Oedipus of Sophocles. As tragedy is an imitation of personages better than the ordinary man, we should follow the example of good portrait-painters, who reproduce the distinctive features of a man, and at the same time, without losing the likeness, make him handsomer than he is. The poet in like manner, in portraying men quick or slow to anger, or with similar inrmities of character, must know how to represent them as such, and at the same time as good men . . .10 All these rules one must keep in mind throughout, and, further, those also for such points of stage-effect as directly depend on the art of the poet, since in these too one may often make mistakes. Enough, however, has been said on the subject in one of our published writings. 16 Discovery in general has been explained already. As for the species of discovery, the rst to be noted is the least artistic form of it, of which the poets make most use through mere lack of invention, discovery by signs. Of these signs some are congenital, like the lance-head which the Earth-born have on them or stars, such as Carcinus brings in his Thyestes; others acquired after birththese latter being either marks on the body, e.g. scars, or external tokens, like necklaces, or the boat in the discovery in Tyro. Even these, however, admit of two uses, a better and a worse; the scar of Ulysses is an instance; the discovery of him through it is made in one way by the nurse and in another by the swineherds. A discovery using signs as a means of assurance is less artistic, as indeed are all such as imply reection; whereas one bringing them in all of a sudden, as in the Bath-story, is of a better order. Next after these are discoveries made directly by the poet; which are inartistic for that very reason; e.g. Orestes discovery of himself in Iphigenia: whereas his sister reveals who she is by the letter, Orestes is made to say himself what the poet rather than the story demands. This, therefore, is not far removed
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The text is corrupt here.

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from the rst-mentioned fault, since he might have presented certain tokens as well. Another instance is the voice of the shuttle in the Tereus of Sophocles. A third species is discovery through memory, from a mans consciousness being awakened by something seen. Thus in The Cyprioe of Dicaeogenes, the sight of the picture makes the man burst into tears; and in the Tale of Alcinous, hearing the harper Ulysses is reminded of the past and weeps; the discovery of them being the result. A fourth kind of discovery through reasoning; e.g. in The Choephoroe; One like me is here; there is no one like me but Orestes; he, therefore, must be here. Or that which Polyidus the Sophist suggested for Iphigenia; since it was natural for Orestes to reect: My sister was sacriced and I am to be sacriced like her. Or that in the Tydeus of Theodectes: I came to nd a son, and am to die myself. Or that in The Phinidae: on seeing the place the women inferred their fate, that they were to die there, since they had also been exposed there. There is, too, a composite discovery arising from bad reasoning on the part of the audience. An instance of it is in Ulysses the False Messenger: that he stretched the bow and no one else did was invented by the poet and part of the argument, and so too that he said he would recognize the bow which he had not seen; but to suppose from that that he would know it again was bad reasoning. The best of all discoveries, however, is that arising from the incidents themselves, when the great surprise comes about through a probable incident, like that in the Oedipus of Sophocles; and also in Iphigenia; for it was probable that she should wish to have a letter taken home. These last are the only discoveries independent of the artice of signs and necklaces. Next after them come discoveries through reasoning. 17 At the time when he is constructing his plots, and engaged on the diction in which they are worked out, the poet should remember to put the actual scenes as far as possible before his eyes. In this way, seeing everything with the vividness of an eye-witness as it were, he will devise what is appropriate, and be least likely to overlook incongruities. This is shown by what was censured in Carcinus, the return of Amphiaraus from the sanctuary; it would have passed unnoticed, if it had not been actually seen; but on the stage his play failed, the incongruity of the incident offending the spectators. As far, as may be, too, the poet should even act his story with the very gestures of his personages. Given the same natural qualications, he who feels the emotions to be described will be the most convincing; distress and anger, for instance, are portrayed most truthfully by one who is feeling them at the moment. Hence it is that poetry demands a man with a special gift for it, or else one with a touch of madness in him; the former can easily assume the required mood, and the latter may be actually beside himself with emotion. His
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story, again, whether already made or of his own making, he should rst simplify and reduce to a universal form, before proceeding to lengthen it out by the insertion of episodes. The following will show how the universal element in Iphigenia, for instance, may be viewed: a certain maiden having been offered in sacrice, and spirited away from her sacricers into another land, where the custom was to sacrice all strangers to the Goddess, she was made there the priestess of this rite. Long after that the brother of the priestess happened to come; the fact, however, of the oracle having bidden him go there, and his object in going, are outside the plot of the play. On his coming he was arrested, and about to be sacriced, when he revealed who he waseither as Euripides puts it, or (as suggested by Polyidus) by the not improbable exclamation, So I too am doomed to be sacriced, as my sister was; and the disclosure led to his salvation. This done, the next thing, after the proper names have been xed as a basis for the story, is to turn it into episodes. One must ensure, however, that the episodes are appropriate, like the t of madness in Orestes, which led to his arrest, and the purifying, which brought about his salvation. In plays, then, the episodes are short; in epic poetry they serve to lengthen out the poem. The argument of the Odyssey is not a long one. A certain man has been abroad many years; Poseidon is ever on the watch for him, and he is all alone. Matters at home too have come to this, that his substance is being wasted and his sons death plotted by suitors to his wife. Then he arrives there himself after his grievous sufferings; reveals himself, and falls on his enemies; and the end is his salvation and their death. This being all that is proper to the Odyssey, everything else in it is episode.
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18 Every tragedy is in part complication and in part d enouement; the incidents before the opening scene, and often certain also of those within the play, forming the complication; and the rest the d enouement. By complication I mean all from the beginning of the story to the point just before the change in the subjects fortunes; by d enouement, all from the beginning of the change to the end. In the Lynceus of Theodectes, for instance, the complication includes, together with the presupposed incidents, the seizure of the child and that in turn of the parents . . . ;11 and the d enouement all from the indictment for the murder to the end. There are four distinct species of Tragedythat being the number of the constituents also that have been mentioned: rst, the complex tragedy, which is all reversal and discovery; second, the tragedy of suffering, e.g. the Ajaxes and Ixions; third, the tragedy of character, e.g. The Phthiotides and Peleus. The fourth constituent
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is that of . . .12 exemplied in The Phorcides, in Prometheus, and in all plays with the scene laid in the nether world. Now it is right, when one speaks of a tragedy as the same or not the same as another, to do so on the ground before all else of their plot, i.e. as having the same or not the same complication and d enouement. Yet there are many dramatists who, after a good complication, fail in the d enouement. But it is necessary for both points of construction to be always duly mastered. The poets aim, then, should be to combine every element of interest, if possible, or else the more important and the major part of them. This is now especially necessary owing to the unfair criticism to which the poet is subjected in these days. Just because there have been poets before him strong in the several species of tragedy, the critics now expect the one man to surpass that which was the strong point of each one of his predecessors. One should also remember what has been said more than once, and not write a tragedy on an epic body of incident (i.e. one with a plurality of stories in it), by attempting to dramatize, for instance, the entire story of the Iliad. In the epic owing to its scale every part is treated at proper length; with a drama, however, on the same story the result is very disappointing. This is shown by the fact that all who have dramatized the fall of Ilium in its entirety, and not part by part, like Euripides, or the whole of the Niobe story, instead of a portion, like Aeschylus, either fail utterly or have little success on the stage; for that and that alone was enough to ruin even a play by Agathon. Yet in their reversals of fortune, as also in their simple plots, the poets I mean show wonderful skill in aiming at the kind of effect they desirea tragic situation that arouses the human feeling in one, like the clever villain (e.g. Sisyphus) deceived, or the brave wrongdoer worsted. This is probable, however, only in Agathons sense, when he speaks of the probability of even improbabilities coming to pass. The Chorus too should be regarded as one of the actors; it should be an integral part of the whole, and take a share in the actionthat which it has in Sophocles, rather than in Euripides. With the later poets, however, the songs in a play of theirs have no more to do with the plot of that than of any other tragedy. Hence it is that they are now singing inserted pieces, a practice rst introduced by Agathon. And yet what real difference is there between singing such inserted pieces, and attempting to t in a speech, or even a whole act, from one play into another? 19 The plot and characters having been discussed, it remains to consider the diction and thought. As for the thought, we may assume what is said of it in our Art of Rhetoric, as it belongs more properly to that department of inquiry. The thought of the personages is shown in everything to be effected by
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their languagein every effort to prove or disprove, to arouse emotion (pity, fear, anger, and the like), or to maximize or minimize things. It is clear, also, that their mental procedure must be on the same lines in their actions likewise, whenever they wish them to arouse pity or horror, or to have a look of importance or probability. The only difference is that with the act the impression has to be made without explanation; whereas with the spoken word it has to be produced by the speaker, and result from his language. What, indeed, would be the good of the speaker, if things appeared in the required light even apart from anything he said? As regards the diction, one subject for inquiry under this head is the turns given to the language when spoken; e.g. the difference between command and prayer, simple statement and threat, question and answer, and so forth. The theory of such matters, however, belongs to acting and the professors of that art. Whether the poet knows these things or not, his art as a poet is never seriously criticized on that account. What fault can one see in Homers Sing of the wrath, Goddess? which Protagoras has criticized as being a command where a prayer was meant, since to bid one do or not do, he tells us, is a command. Let us pass over this, then, as appertaining to another art, and not to that of poetry. 20 The diction viewed as a whole is made up of the following parts: the letter, the syllable, the conjunction, the article, the noun, the verb, the case, and the speech. The letter is an indivisible sound of a particular kind, one that may become a factor in a compound sound. Indivisible sounds are uttered by the brutes also, but no one of these is a letter in our sense of the term. These elementary sounds are either vowels, semivowels, or mutes. A vowel is a letter having an audible sound without the addition of another letter. A semivowel, one having an audible sound by the addition of another letter; e.g. S and R. A mute, one having no sound at all by itself, but becoming audible by an addition, that of one of the letters which have a sound of some sort of their own; e.g. G and D. The letters differ in various ways: as produced by different conformations or in different regions of the mouth; as aspirated or not aspirated; as long, short, or of variable quantity; and further as having an acute, grave, or intermediate accent. The details of these matters we must leave to the students of metre. A syllable is a non-signicant composite sound, made up of a mute and a letter having a sound; for GR, without an A, is just as much a syllable as GRA, with an A.13 The various forms of the syllable also belong to the theory of metre. A conjunction is a non-signicant sound which, when one signicant sound is formable out of
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several, neither hinders nor aids the union, and which naturally stands both at the end and in the middle but must not be inserted at the beginning; e.g. men, or de. Or a non-signicant sound which naturally makes one signicant sound out of several signicant sounds. An article is a non-signicant sound marking the beginning, end, or dividing-point of a sentence, its natural place being either at the extremities or in the middle. E.g. amphi, peri etc. Or a non-signicant sound which neither prevents nor makes a single signicant sound out of several, and which is naturally placed both at the end and in the middle.14 A noun or name is a composite signicant sound not involving the idea of time, with parts which have no signicance by themselves in it. It is to be remembered that in a compound we do not think of the parts as having a signicance also by themselves; in the name Theodorus, for instance, the doros means nothing. A verb is a composite signicant sound involving the idea of time, with parts which (just as in the noun) have no signicance by themselves in it. Whereas the word man or white does not signify a time he walks and he has walked involve in addition to the idea of walking that of time present or time past. A case of a noun or verb is when the word means of or to a thing, and so forth, or for one or many (e.g. man and men); or it may consist merely in the mode of utterance, e.g. in question, command, etc. Did he walk? and Walk! are cases of the verb to walk of this last kind. A sentence is a composite signicant sound, some of the parts of which have a certain signicance by themselves. It may be observed that a sentence is not always made up of noun and verb; it may be without a verb, like the denition of man; but it will always have some part with a certain signicance by itself. In the sentence Cleon walks, Cleon is an instance of such a part. A sentence is said to be one in two ways, either as signifying one thing, or as a union of several speeches made into one by conjunction. Thus the Iliad is one speech by conjunction of several; and the denition of man is one through its signifying one thing. 21 Nouns are of two kinds, either simple, i.e. made up of non-signicant parts, like the word earth, or double; in the latter case the word may be made up either of a signicant and a non-signicant part (a distinction which disappears in the compound), or of two signicant parts. It is possible also to have triple, quadruple, or higher compounds, like many of the names of people from Massalia: e.g. Hermoca coxanthus and the like. Whatever its structure, a noun must always be either the ordinary word for
14

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The text from 1456b38-1457a10 is highly uncertain.

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Aristotle

the thing, or a strange word, or a metaphor, or an ornamental word, or a coined word, or a word lengthened out, or curtailed, or altered in form. By the ordinary word I mean that in general use in a country; and by a strange word, one in use elsewhere. So that the same word may obviously be at once strange and ordinary, though not in reference to the same people; sigynon, for instance, is an ordinary word in Cyprus, and a strange word with us. Metaphor consists in giving the thing a name that belongs to something else; the transference being either from genus to species, or from species to genus, or from species to species, or on grounds of analogy. That from genus to species is exemplied in Here stands my ship; for lying at anchor is a sort of standing. That from species to genus in Truly ten thousand good deeds has Ulysses wrought, where ten thousand, which is a particular large number, is put in place of the generic a large number. That from species to species in Drawing the life with the bronze, and in Severing with the enduring bronze; where the poet uses draw in the sense of sever and sever in that of draw, both words meaning to take away something. That from analogy is possible whenever there are four terms so related that the second is to the rst, as the fourth to the third; for one may then put the fourth in place of the second, and the second in place of the fourth. Now and then, too, they qualify the metaphor by adding on to it that to which the word it supplants is relative. Thus a cup is in relation to Dionysus what a shield is to Ares. The cup accordingly will be described as the shield of Dionysus and the shield as the cup of Ares. Or to take another instance: As old age is to life, so is evening to day. One will accordingly describe evening as the old age of the dayor by the Empedoclean equivalent; and old age as the evening or sunset of life. It may be that some of the terms thus related have no special name of their own, but for all that they will be described in just the same way. Thus to cast forth seed-corn is called sowing; but to cast forth its ame, as said of the sun, has no special name. This nameless act, however, stands in just the same relation to its object, sunlight, as sowing to the seed-corn. Hence the expression in the poet, sowing around a god-created ame. There is also another form of qualied metaphor. Having given the thing the alien name, one may by a negative addition deny of it one of the attributes naturally associated with its new name. An instance of this would be to call the shield not the cup of Ares, as in the former case, but a cup that holds no wine . . . .15 A coined word is a name which, being quite unknown among a people, is given by the poet himself; e.g. (for there are some words that seem to be of this origin) ernyges for horns, and areter for priest. A word is said to be lengthened
15

Kassel marks a lacuna.

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out, when it has a short vowel made long, or an extra syllable inserted; e.g. poleos for poleos, Peleiadeo for Peleidou. It is said to be curtailed, when it has lost a part; e.g. kri, do and ops, in mia ginetai amphoteron ops. It is an altered word, when part is left as it was and part is of the poets making; e.g. dexiteron for dexion, in dexiteron kata mazon. The nouns themselves are either masculines, feminines, or intermediates. All ending in N, R, S, or in the two compounds of this last, Ps and X, are masculines. All ending in the invariably long vowels, E and O, and in A among the vowels that may be long, are feminines. So that there is an equal number of masculine and feminine terminations, as Ps and X are the same as S. There is no noun, however, ending in a mute or in a short vowel. Only three (meli, kommi, peperi) end in I, and ve in Y . . . .16 The intermediates end in the variable vowels or in N, R, S. 22 The excellence of diction is for it to be at once clear and not mean. The clearest indeed is that made up of the ordinary words for things, but it is mean, as is shown by the poetry of Cleophon and Sthenelus. On the other hand the diction becomes distinguished and non-prosaic by the use of unfamiliar terms, i.e. strange words, metaphors, lengthened forms, and everything that deviates from the ordinary modes of speech. But a whole statement in such terms will be either a riddle or a barbarism, a riddle, if made up of metaphors, a barbarism, if made up of strange words. The very nature indeed of a riddle is this, to describe a fact in an impossible combination of words (which cannot be done with a combination of other names, but can be done with a combination of metaphors); e.g. I saw a man glue brass on another with re, and the like. The corresponding use of strange words results in a barbarism. A certain admixture, accordingly, of unfamiliar terms is necessary. These, the strange word, the metaphor, the ornamental equivalent, etc., will save the language from seeming mean and prosaic, while the ordinary words in it will secure the requisite clearness. What helps most, however, to render the diction at once clear and non-prosaic is the use of the lengthened, curtailed, and altered forms of words. Their deviation from the ordinary words will, by making the language unlike that in general use, give it a non-prosaic appearance; and their having much in common with the words in general use will give it the quality of clearness. It is not right, then, to condemn these modes of speech, and ridicule the poet for using them, as some have done; e.g. the elder Euclid, who said it was easy to make poetry if one were to be allowed to lengthen words as much as one likesa procedure he caricatured by reading Epicharen
16

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Kassel marks a lacuna.

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Aristotle

eidon Marathonade Badizonta, and ouk *an geramenos* ton ekeinou elleboron as verses. A too apparent use of these licences has certainly a ludicrous effect, but they are not alone in that; the rule of moderation applies to all the constituents of the poetic vocabulary; even with metaphors, strange words, and the rest, the effect will be the same, if one uses them improperly and with a view of provoking laughter. The proper use of them is a very different thing. To realize the difference one should take an epic verse and see how it reads when the normal words are introduced. The same should be done too with the strange word, the metaphor, and the rest; for one has only to put the ordinary words in their place to see the truth of what we are saying. The same iambic, for instance, is found in Aeschylus and Euripides, and as it stands in the former it is a poor line; whereas Euripides, by the change of a single word, the substitution of a strange for what is by usage the ordinary word, has made it seem a ne one. Aeschylus having said in his Philoctetes: phagedainan he mou sarkas esthiei podos, Euripides has merely altered the esthiei here into thoinatai. Or suppose nyn de m eon oligos te kai outidanos kai aeikes to be altered, by the substitution of the ordinary words, into nyn de m eon mikros te kai asthenikos kai aeides. Or the line diphron aeikelion katatheis oligen te trapezan into diphron mochtheron katatheis mikran te trapezan. Or eiones booosin into eiones krazousin. Add to this that Ariphrades used to ridicule the tragedians for introducing expressions unknown in the language of common life, domaton apo (for apo domaton) sethen, ego de nin, Achilleos peri (for peri Achilleos), and the like. The mere fact of their not being in ordinary speech gives the diction a non-prosaic character; but Ariphrades was unaware of that. It is a great thing, indeed, to make a proper use of these poetical forms, as also of compounds and strange words. But the greatest thing by far is to be a master of metaphor. It is the one thing that cannot be learnt from others; and it is

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also a sign of genius, since a good metaphor implies an intuitive perception of the similarity in dissimilars.

Of the kinds of words we have enumerated it may be observed that compounds are most in place in the dithyramb, strange words in heroic, and metaphors in iambic poetry. Heroic poetry, indeed, may avail itself of them all. But in iambic verse, which models itself as far as possible on the spoken language, only those kinds of words are in place which are allowable also in a prose speech, i.e. the ordinary word, the metaphor, and the ornamental equivalent. Let this, then, sufce as an account of tragedy, the art imitating by means of action on the stage. 23 As for the poetry which narrates, or imitates by means of versied language, the construction of its plots should clearly be like that in a tragedy; they should be based on a single action, one that is a complete whole in itself, with a beginning, middle, and end, so as to enable the work to produce its own proper pleasure with all the organic unity of a living creature. Nor should one suppose that there is anything like them in our usual histories. A history has to deal not with one action, but with one period and all that happened in that to one or more persons, however disconnected the several events may have been. Just as two events may take place at the same time, e.g. the sea-ght off Salamis and the battle with the Carthaginians in Sicily, without converging to the same end, so too of two consecutive events one may sometimes come after the other with no one end as their common issue. Nevertheless most of our poets, one may say, ignore the distinction. Herein, then, to repeat what we have said before, we have a further proof of Homers marvellous superiority to the rest. He did not attempt to deal even with the Trojan war in its entirety, though it was a whole with a denite beginning and endthrough a feeling apparently that it was too long a story to be taken in in one view, or if not that, too complicated from the variety of incident in it. As it is, he has singled out one section of the whole; many of the other incidents, however, he brings in as episodes, using the Catalogue of the Ships, for instance, and other episodes to relieve the uniformity of his narrative. As for the other poets, they treat of one man, or one period; or else of an action which, although one, has a multiplicity of parts in it. This last is what the authors of the Cypria and Little Iliad have done. And the result is that, whereas the Iliad or Odyssey supplies materials for only one, or at most two tragedies, the Cypria does that for several and so does

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the Little Iliad [for more than eight: for an Adjudgment of Arms, a Philoctetes, a Neoptolemus, a Eurypylus, a Ulysses as Beggar, a Laconian Women, a Fall of Ilium, and a Departure of the Fleet; as also a Sinon, and a Woman of Troy].17
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24 Besides this, epic poetry must divide into the same species as tragedy; it must be either simple or complex, a story of character or one of suffering. Its parts, too, with the exception of song and spectacle, must be the same, as it requires reversals, discoveries, and scenes of suffering just like tragedy. Lastly, the thought and diction in it must be good in their way. All these elements appear in Homer rst; and he has made due use of them. His two poems are each examples of construction, the Iliad simple and a story of suffering, the Odyssey complex (there is discovery throughout it) and a story of character. And they are more than this, since in diction and thought too they surpass all other poems. There is, however, a difference in the epic as compared with tragedy, in its length, and in its metre. As to its length, the limit already suggested will sufce: it must be possible for the beginning and end of the work to be taken in in one viewa condition which will be fullled if the poem be shorter than the old epics, and about as long as the series of tragedies offered for one hearing. For the extension of its length epic poetry has a special advantage, of which it makes large use. In a play one cannot represent an action with a number of parts going on simultaneously; one is limited to the part on the stage and connected with the actors. Whereas in epic poetry the narrative form makes it possible for one to describe a number of simultaneous incidents; and these, if germane to the subject, increase the body of the poem. This then is a gain to the epic, tending to give it grandeur, and also variety of interest and room for episodes of diverse kinds. Uniformity of incident by the satiety it soon creates is apt to ruin tragedies on the stage. As for its metre, the heroic has been assigned it from experience; were any one to attempt a narrative poem in some one, or in several, of the other metres, the incongruity of the thing would be apparent. The heroic in fact is the gravest and weightiest of metreswhich is what makes it more tolerant than the rest of strange words and metaphors, that also being a point in which the narrative form of poetry goes beyond all others. The iambic and trochaic, on the other hand, are metres of movement, the one representing that of life and action, the other that of the dance. Still more unnatural would it appear, if one were to write an epic in a medley of metres, as Chaeremon did. Hence it is that no one has ever written a long story in any but heroic verse; the very nature of the thing, as we have said, teaches us to select the metre appropriate to such a story.
17

Excised by Kassel.

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Homer, admirable as he is in every other respect, is especially so in this, that he alone among epic poets is not unaware of the part to be played by the poet himself in the poem. The poet should say very little in his own character, as he is no imitator when doing that. Whereas the other poets are perpetually coming forward in person, and say but little, and that only here and there, as imitators, Homer after a brief preface brings in forthwith a man, a woman, or some other characterno one of them characterless, but each with distinctive characteristics. The marvellous is certainly required in tragedy. The epic, however, affords more opening for the improbable, the chief factor in the marvellous, because in it the agents are not visibly before one. The scene of the pursuit of Hector would be ridiculous on the stagethe Greeks halting instead of pursuing him, and Achilles shaking his head to stop them; but in the poem the absurdity is overlooked. The marvellous, however, is a cause of pleasure, as is shown by the fact that we all tell a story with additions, in the belief that we are giving pleasure to our hearers. Homer more than any other has taught the others the art of framing lies in the right way. I mean the use of paralogism. Whenever, if one thing is or happens, another is or happens, mens notion is that, if the latter is, so is the former but that is a false conclusion. Accordingly, if the rst thing is untrue, but there is something else that on the assumption of its truth follows as its consequent, the right thing then is to add on the latter. Just because we know the truth of the consequent, we are in our own minds led on to the erroneous inference of the truth of the antecedent. There is an instance of this in the Bath-story in the Odyssey. A likely impossibility is always preferable to an unconvincing possibility. The story should never be made up of improbable incidents; there should be nothing of that sort in it. If, however, such incidents are unavoidable, they should be outside the piece, like Oedipus ignorance in Oedipus of the circumstances of Laius death; not within it, like the report of the Pythian games in Electra, or the mans having come to Mysia from Tegea without uttering a word on the way, in The Mysians. So that it is ridiculous to say that ones plot would have been spoilt without them, since it is fundamentally wrong to make up such plots. If the poet has taken such a plot, however, and one sees that he might have put it in a more probable form, he is guilty of absurdity as well as a fault of art.18 Even in the Odyssey the improbabilities in the setting-ashore of Ulysses would be clearly intolerable in the hands of an inferior poet. As it is, the poet conceals them, his other excellences veiling their absurdity. Elaborate diction, however, is required only in places where there is no action, and no character or thought to be revealed.
18

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The text of this sentence is uncertain.

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Where there is character or thought, on the other hand, an over-ornate diction tends to obscure them.
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25 As regards problems and their solutions, one may see the number and nature of the assumptions on which they proceed by viewing the matter in the following way. The poet being an imitator just like the painter or other maker of likenesses, he must necessarily in all instances represent things in one or other of three aspects, either as they were or are, or as they are said or thought to be or to have been, or as they ought to be. All this he does in language, with an admixture, it may be, of strange words and metaphors, as also of the various modied forms of words, since the use of these is conceded in poetry. It is to be remembered, too, that there is not the same kind of correctness in poetry as in politics, or indeed any other art. There is, however, within the limits of poetry itself a possibility of two kinds of error, the one directly, the other only accidentally connected with the art. If the poet meant to describe the thing . . .19 lack of power of expression, his art itself is at fault. But if it was through his having meant to describe it in some incorrect way (e.g. to make the horse in movement have both right legs thrown forward) that the technical error (one in a matter of, say, medicine or some other special science), have got into his description, his error in that case is not in the essentials of the poetic art. These, therefore, must be the premisses of the solutions in answer to the criticisms involved in the problems. As to the criticisms relating to the poets art itself. Any impossibilities there may be in his descriptions of things are faults. But from another point of view they are justiable, if they serve the end of poetry itselfif (to assume what we have said of that end) they make the effect of either that very portion of the work or some other portion more astounding. The Pursuit of Hector is an instance in point. If, however, the poetic end might have been as well or better or no worse attained without sacrice of technical correctness in such matters, the impossibility is not to be justied, since the description should be, if it can, entirely free from error. One may ask, too, whether the error is in a matter directly or only accidentally connected with the poetic art; since it is a lesser error in an artist not to know, for instance, that the hind has no horns, than to produce an unrecognizable picture of one. If the poets description be criticized as not true to fact, one may urge perhaps that the object ought to be as describedan answer like that of Sophocles, who said that he drew men as they ought to be, and Euripides as they were. If the
19

Kassel marks a lacuna.

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description, however, be neither true nor of the thing as it ought to be, the answer must be then, that it is in accordance with opinion. The tales about Gods, for instance, may be as wrong as Xenophanes thinks, neither true nor the better thing to say; but they are certainly in accordance with opinion. Of other statements in poetry one may perhaps say, not that they are better than the truth, but that the fact was so at the time; e.g. the description of the arms: their spears stood upright, butt-end upon the ground; for that was the usual way of xing them then, as it is still with the Illyrians. As for the question whether something said or done in a poem is right or not, in dealing with that one should consider not only the intrinsic quality of the actual word or deed, but also the person who says or does it, the person to whom he says or does it, the time, the means, and the motive of the agentwhether he does it to attain a greater good, or to avoid a greater evil. Other criticisms one must meet by considering the language of the poet: by the assumption of a strange word in a passage like oureas men proton, where by oureas Homer may perhaps mean not mules but sentinels. And in saying of Dolon, hos rh e toi eidos men een kakos his meaning may perhaps be, not that Dolons body was deformed, but that his face was ugly, as eueides is the Cretan word for handsome-faced. So, too, zoroteron de keraie may mean not mix the wine stronger, as though for topers, but mix it quicker. Other expressions in Homer may be explained as metaphorical; e.g. in pantes men rha theoi te kai aneres eudon pannychioi, as compared with what he tells us at the same time, e toi hot es pedion to Troikon athreseien, aulon syriggon te homadon, the word pantes, all, is metaphorically put for many, since all is a species of many. So also his oie d ammoros is metaphorical, the best known standing alone. A change, as Hippias of Thasos suggested, in the mode of reading a word will solve the difculty in didomen de oi euchos aresthai, and in to men ou katapythetai ombro. Other difculties may be solved by another punctuation; e.g. in Empedocles, aipsa de thnet ephyonto, ta prin mathon athanat einai zora te prin kekreto. Or by the assumption of an equivocal term, as in parocheken de pleo nyx where pleo is equivocal. Or by an appeal to the custom of language. Wine-and-water we call wine; and it is on the same principle that Homer speaks of a knemis neoteuktou kassiteroio a greave of new-wrought tin. A worker in iron we call a brazier; and it is on the same principle that Ganymede is described as the wine-server of Zeus, though the Gods do not drink wine. This latter, however, may be an instance of metaphor. But whenever also a word seems to imply some contradiction, it is necessary to reect how many ways there may be of understanding it in the passage in question; e.g. in Homers terh escheto chalkeon egchos one should consider the possible senses of was stopped therewhether by taking it in this

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sense or in that one will best avoid the fault of which Glaucon speaks: They start with some improbable presumption; and having so decreed it themselves, proceed to draw inferences, and censure the poet as though he had actually said whatever they happen to believe, if his statement conicts with their own notion of things. This is how Homers silence about Icarius has been treated. Starting with the notion of his having been a Lacedaemonian, the critics think it strange for Telemachus not to have met him when he went to Lacedaemon. Whereas the fact may have been as the Cephallenians say, that the wife of Ulysses was of a Cephallenian family, and that her fathers name was Icadius, not Icarius. So that it is probably a mistake of the critics that has given rise to the problem.20 Speaking generally, one has to justify the impossible by reference to the requirements of poetry, or to the better, or to opinion. For the purposes of poetry a convincing impossibility is preferable to an unconvincing possibility; and if men such as Zeuxis depicted . . .21 the answer is that it is better they should be like that, as the artist ought to improve on his model. The improbable one has to justify either by showing it to be in accordance with opinion, or by urging that at times it is not improbable; for there is a probability of things happening also against probability. The contradictions found in the poets language one should rst test as one does an opponents confutation in a dialectical argument, so as to see whether he means the same thing, in the same relation, and in the same sense, before admitting that he has contradicted either something he has said himself or what a man of sound sense assumes as true. But there is no possible apology for improbability or depravity, when they are not necessary and no use is made of them, like the Euripides Aegeus and the baseness of Menelaus in Orestes. The objections, then, of critics start with faults of ve kinds: the allegation is always that something is either impossible, improbable, corrupting, contradictory, or against technical correctness. The answers to these objections must be sought under one or other of the above-mentioned heads, which are twelve in number. 26 The question may be raised whether the epic or the tragic is the higher form of imitation. It may be argued that, if the less vulgar is the higher, and the less vulgar is always that which addresses the better public, an art addressing any and every one is of a very vulgar order. It is a belief that their public cannot see the meaning, unless they add something themselves, that causes the perpetual movements of the performersbad ute-players, for instance, rolling about, if quoit-throwing is to be represented, and pulling at the conductor, if Scylla is the
20 21

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subject of the piece. Tragedy, then, is said to be an art of this orderto be in fact just what the later actors were in the eyes of their predecessors; for Mynniscus used to call Callippides the ape, because he thought he so overacted his parts; and a similar view was taken of Pindarus also. All tragedy, however, is said to stand to the Epic as the newer to the older school of actors. The one, accordingly, is said to address a cultivated audience, which does not need the accompaniment of gesture; the other, an uncultivated one. If, therefore, tragedy is a vulgar art, it must clearly be lower than the epic. In the rst place, one may urge that the censure does not touch the art of the dramatic poet, but only that of the actor; for it is quite possible to overdo the gesturing even in an epic recital, as did Sosistratus, and in a singing contest, as did Mnasitheus of Opus. Again, one should not condemn all movement, unless one means to condemn even the dance, but only that of ignoble peoplewhich is the point of the criticism passed on Callippides and in the present day on others, that their women are not like gentlewomen. Again, tragedy may produce its effect even without movement or action in just the same way as epic poetry; for from the mere reading of a play its quality may be seen. So that, if it be superior in all other respects, this element of inferiority is no necessary part of it. In the second place, one must remember that tragedy has everything that the epic has (even the epic metre being admissible), together with a not inconsiderable addition in the shape of the music which very clearly gives pleasure. Next, the reality of presentation is felt in the play as read, as well as in the play as acted. Again, tragic imitation requires less space for the attainment of its end; which is a great advantage, since the more concentrated effect is more pleasurable than one with a large admixture of time to dilute itconsider the Oedipus of Sophocles, for instance, and the effect of expanding it into the number of lines of the Iliad. There is less unity in the imitation of the epic poets, as is proved by the fact that any one work of theirs supplies matter for several tragedies; the result being that, if they take what is really a single story, it seems curt when briey told, and thin when on the scale of length usual with their verse. In saying that there is less unity in an epic, I mean an epic made up of a plurality of actions, in the same way as the Iliad and Odyssey have many such parts, each one of them in itself of some magnitude; yet the structure of the two Homeric poems is as perfect as can be, and the action in them is as nearly as possible one action. If, then, tragedy is superior in these respects, and also, besides these, in its poetic effect (since the two forms of poetry should give us, not any or every pleasure, but the very special kind we have mentioned), it is clear that, since it attains the poetic effect better than the epic, it will be the higher form of art.

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So much for tragedy and epic poetryfor these two arts in general and their species; the number and nature of their constituent parts; the causes of success and failure in them; the objections of the critics, and the solutions in answer to them.

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS
Aristotle

The Complete Works of Aristotle

Electronic markup by Jamie L. Spriggs InteLex Corporation P.O. Box 859, Charlottesville, Virginia, 22902-0859, USA Available via ftp or on Macintosh or DOS CD-ROM from the publisher.

Complete Works (Aristotle). Jonathan Barnes, Princeton University Press, Princeton, N.J. 1991.

These texts are part of the Past Masters series. This series is an attempt to collect the most important texts in the history of philosophy, both in original language and English translation (if the original language is other English). All Greek has been transliterated and is delimited with the term tag.

May 1996 Jamie L. Spriggs, InteLex Corp. publisher Converted from Folio Flat File to TEI.2-compatible SGML; checked against print text; parsed against local teilite dtd.

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ARISTOTLE THE REVISED OXFORD TRANSLATION Edited by JONATHAN BARNES VOLUME TWO BOLLINGEN SERIES LXXI 2 PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS Copyright 1984 by The Jowett Copyright Trustees Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William St., Princeton, New Jersey In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, Oxford No part of this electronic edition may be printed without written permission from The Jowett Copyright Trustees and Princeton University Press. All Rights Reserved THIS IS PART TWO OF THE SEVENTY-FIRST IN A SERIES OF WORKS SPONSORED BY BOLLINGEN FOUNDATION Printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey Second Printing, 1985 Fourth Printing, 1991 987654

Contents
Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Acknowledgements . . . . . . . Note to the Reader . . . . . . . CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii v vi 2

PREFACE
BENJAMIN JOWETT1 published his translation of Aristotles Politics in 1885, and he nursed the desire to see the whole of Aristotle done into English. In his will he left the perpetual copyright on his writings to Balliol College, desiring that any royalties should be invested and that the income from the investment should be applied in the rst place to the improvement or correction of his own books, and secondly to the making of New Translations or Editions of Greek Authors. In a codicil to the will, appended less than a month before his death, he expressed the hope that the translation of Aristotle may be nished as soon as possible. The Governing Body of Balliol duly acted on Jowetts wish: J. A. Smith, then a Fellow of Balliol and later Waynete Professor of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, and W. D. Ross, a Fellow of Oriel College, were appointed as general editors to supervise the project of translating all of Aristotles writings into English; and the College came to an agreement with the Delegates of the Clarendon Press for the publication of the work. The rst volume of what came to be known as The Oxford Translation of Aristotle appeared in 1908. The work continued under the joint guidance of Smith and Ross, and later under Rosss sole editorship. By 1930, with the publication of the eleventh volume, the whole of the standard corpus aristotelicum had been put into English. In 1954 Ross added a twelfth volume, of selected fragments, and thus completed the task begun almost half a century earlier. The translators whom Smith and Ross collected together included the most eminent English Aristotelians of the age; and the translations reached a remarkable standard of scholarship and delity to the text. But no translation is perfect, and all translations date: in 1976, the Jowett Trustees, in whom the copyright of the Translation lies, determined to commission a revision of the entire text. The Oxford Translation was to remain in substance its original self; but alterations were to be made, where advisable, in the light of recent scholarship and with the requirements of modern readers in mind. The present volumes thus contain a revised Oxford Translation: in all but three treatises, the original versions have been conserved with only mild emendations.
The text of Aristotle: The Complete Works is The Revised Oxford Translation of The Complete Works of Aristotle, edited by Jonathan Barnes, and published by Princeton University Press in 1984. Each reference line contains the approximate Bekker number range of the paragraph if the work in question was included in the Bekker edition.
1

PREFACE

iii

(The three exceptions are the Categories and de Interpretatione, where the translations of J. L. Ackrill have been substituted for those of E. M. Edgehill, and the Posterior Analytics, where G. R. G. Mures version has been replaced by that of J. Barnes. The new translations have all been previously published in the Clarendon Aristotle series.) In addition, the new Translation contains the tenth book of the History of Animals, and the third book of the Economics, which were not done for the original Translation; and the present selection from the fragments of Aristotles lost works includes a large number of passages which Ross did not translate. In the original Translation, the amount and scope of annotation differed greatly from one volume to the next: some treatises carried virtually no footnotes, others (notably the biological writings) contained almost as much scholarly commentary as textthe work of Ogle on the Parts of Animals or of dArcy Thompson on the History of Animals, Beares notes to On Memory or Joachims to On Indivisible Lines, were major contributions to Aristotelian scholarship. Economy has demanded that in the revised Translation annotation be kept to a minimum; and all the learned notes of the original version have been omitted. While that omission represents a considerable impoverishment, it has reduced the work to a more manageable bulk, and at the same time it has given the constituent translations a greater uniformity of character. It might be added that the revision is thus closer to Jowetts own intentions than was the original Translation. The revisions have been slight, more abundant in some treatises than in others but amounting, on the average, to some fty alterations for each Bekker page of Greek. Those alterations can be roughly classied under four heads. (i) A quantity of work has been done on the Greek text of Aristotle during the past half century: in many cases new and better texts are now available, and the reviser has from time to time emended the original Translation in the light of this research. (But he cannot claim to have made himself intimate with all the textual studies that recent scholarship has thrown up.) A standard text has been taken for each treatise, and the few departures from it, where they affect the sense, have been indicated in footnotes. On the whole, the reviser has been conservative, sometimes against his inclination. (ii) There are occasional errors or infelicities of translation in the original version: these have been corrected insofar as they have been observed. (iii) The English of the original Translation now seems in some respects archaic in its vocabulary and in its syntax: no attempt has been made to impose a consistently modern style upon the translations, but where archaic English might mislead the modern reader, it has been replaced by more current idiom.

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(iv) The fourth class of alterations accounts for the majority of changes made by the reviser. The original Translation is often paraphrastic: some of the translators used paraphrase freely and deliberately, attempting not so much to English Aristotles Greek as to explain in their own words what he was intending to conveythus translation turns by slow degrees into exegesis. Others construed their task more narrowly, but even in their more modest versions expansive paraphrase from time to time intrudes. The revision does not pretend to eliminate paraphrase altogether (sometimes paraphrase is venial; nor is there any precise boundary between translation and paraphrase); but it does endeavor, especially in the logical and philosophical parts of the corpus, to replace the more blatantly exegetical passages of the original by something a little closer to Aristotles text. The general editors of the original Translation did not require from their translators any uniformity in the rendering of technical and semitechnical terms. Indeed, the translators themselves did not always strive for uniformity within a single treatise or a single book. Such uniformity is surely desirable; but to introduce it would have been a massive task, beyond the scope of this revision. Some effort has, however, been made to remove certain of the more capricious variations of translation (especially in the more philosophical of Aristotles treatises). Nor did the original translators try to mirror in their English style the style of Aristotles Greek. For the most part, Aristotle is terse, compact, abrupt, his arguments condensed, his thought dense. For the most part, the Translation is owing and expansive, set out in well-rounded periods and expressed in a language which is usually literary and sometimes orotund. To that extent the Translation produces a false impression of what it is like to read Aristotle in the original; and indeed it is very likely to give a misleading idea of the nature of Aristotles philosophizing, making it seem more polished and nished than it actually is. In the revisers opinion, Aristotles sinewy Greek is best translated into correspondingly tough English; but to achieve that would demand a new translation, not a revision. No serious attempt has been made to alter the style of the originala style which, it should be said, is in itself elegant enough and pleasing to read. The reviser has been aided by several friends; and he would like to acknowledge in particular the help of Mr. Gavin Lawrence and Mr. Donald Russell. He remains acutely conscious of the numerous imperfections that are left. Yetas Aristotle himself would have put itthe work was laborious, and the reader must forgive the reviser for his errors and give him thanks for any improvements which he may chance to have effected. March 1981 J. B.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE TRANSLATIONS of the Categories and the de Interpretatione are reprinted here by permission of Professor J. L. Ackrill and Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1963); the translation of the Posterior Analytics is reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1975); the translation of the third book of the Economics is reprinted by permission of The Loeb Classical Library (William Heinemann and Harvard University Press); the translation of the fragments of the Protrepticus is based, with the authors generous permission, on the version by Professor Ingemar D uring.

NOTE TO THE READER

THE TRADITIONAL corpus aristotelicum contains several works which were certainly or probably not written by Aristotle. A single asterisk against the title of a work indicates that its authenticity has been seriously doubted; a pair of asterisks indicates that its spuriousness has never been seriously contested. These asterisks appear both in the Table of Contents and on the title pages of the individual works concerned. The title page of each work contains a reference to the edition of the Greek text against which the translation has been checked. References are by editors name, series or publisher (OCT stands for Oxford Classical Texts), and place and date of publication. In those places where the translation deviates from the chosen text and prefers a different reading in the Greek, a footnote marks the fact and indicates which reading is preferred; such places are rare. The numerals printed in the outer margins key the translation to Immanuel Bekkers standard edition of the Greek text of Aristotle of 1831. References consist of a page number, a column letter, and a line number. Thus 1343a marks column one of page 1343 of Bekkers edition; and the following 5, 10, 15, etc. stand against lines 5, 10, 15, etc. of that column of text. Bekker references of this type are found in most editions of Aristotles works, and they are used by all scholars who write about Aristotle.

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS
Translated by F. G. Kenyon2 1 . . . [They3 were tried] by a court empanelled from among the noble families, and sworn upon the sacrices. The part of accuser was taken by Myron. They were found guilty of the sacrilege, and their bodies were cast out of their graves and their race banished for evermore. In view of this expiation, Epimenides the Cretan performed a purication of the city. 2 After this event there was contention for a long time between the upper classes and the populace. Not only was the constitution at this time oligarchical in every respect, but the poorer classes, men, women, and children, were the serfs of the rich. They were known as Pelatae and also as Hectemori, because they cultivated the lands of the rich at the rent thus indicated. The whole country was in the hands of a few persons, and if the tenants failed to pay their rent they were liable to be haled into slavery, and their children with them. All loans were secured upon the debtors person up to the time of Solon, who was the rst to appear as the champion of the people. But the hardest and bitterest part of the constitution in the eyes of the masses was their state of serfdom. Not but what they were also discontented with every other feature of their lot; for, to speak generally, they had no share in anything. 3 Now the ancient constitution, as it existed before the time of Draco, was organized as follows. The magistrates were elected according to qualications of birth and wealth. At rst they governed for life, but subsequently for terms of ten
2 3

TEXT: F. G. Kenyon, OCT, Oxford, 1920 Sc. the Alcmeonidae. The papyrus begins in the middle of a sentence.

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

years. The rst magistrates, both in date and in importance, were the King, the Polemarch, and the Archon. The earliest of these ofces was that of the King, which existed from ancestral antiquity. To this was added, secondly, the ofce of Polemarch, on account of some of the kings proving feeble in war; for it was on this account that Ion was invited to accept the post on an occasion of pressing need. The last of the three ofces was that of the Archon, which most authorities state to have come into existence in the time of Medon. Others assign it to the time of Acastus, and adduce as proof the fact that the nine Archons swear to execute their oaths as in the days of Acastus, which seems to suggest that it was in his time that the descendants of Codrus retired from the kingship in return for the prerogatives conferred upon the Archon. Whichever way it be, the difference in date is small; but that it was the last of these magistracies to be created is also shown by the fact that the Archon has no part in the ancestral sacrices, as the King and the Polemarch have, but exclusively in those of later origin. So it is only at a comparatively late date that the ofce of Archon has become of great importance, through the dignity conferred by these later additions. The Thesmothetae were appointed many years afterwards, when these ofces had already become annual, with the object that they might publicly record all legal decisions, and act as guardians of them with a view to determining the issues between litigants. Accordingly their ofce, alone of those which have been mentioned, was never of more than annual duration. Such, then, is the relative chronological precedence of these ofces. At that time the nine Archons did not all live together. The King occupied the building now known as the Bucolium, near the Prytaneum, as may be seen from the fact that even to the present day the marriage of the Kings wife to Dionysus and its consummation take place there. The Archon lived in the Prytaneum, the Polemarch in the Epilyceum. The latter building was formerly called the Polemarcheum, but after Epilycus, during his term of ofce as Polemarch, had rebuilt it and tted it up, it was called the Epilyceum. The Thesmothetae occupied the Thesmotheteum. In the time of Solon, however, they all came together into the Thesmotheteum. They had power to decide cases nally on their own authority, not, as now, merely to hold a preliminary hearing. Such then was the arrangement of the magistracies. The Council of Areopagus had as its duty the protection of the laws; but in point of fact it administered the greater and most important part of the government of the state, and inicted punishments and nes summarily upon all who misbehaved themselves. For the Archons were elected under qualications of birth and wealth, and the Areopagus was composed of those who had served as Archons; for which reason the membership of the Areopagus is the only ofce which has continued

4 to be a life-magistracy to the present day.

Aristotle

4 Such was, in outline, the rst constitution; but not very long after the events above recorded, in the archonship of Aristaechmus, Draco enacted his ordinances. Now his constitution had the following form. The franchise was given to all who could furnish themselves with a military equipment. The nine Archons and the Treasurers were elected by this body from persons possessing an unencumbered property of not less than ten minas, the less important ofcials from those who could furnish themselves with a military equipment, and the generals and commanders of the cavalry from those who could show an unencumbered property of not less than a hundred minas, and had children born in lawful wedlock over ten years of age. These ofcers were required to hold to bail the Prytanes, the generals, and the cavalry commanders of the preceding year until their accounts had been audited, taking four securities of the same class as that to which the generals and the cavalry commanders belonged. There was also to be a Council, consisting of four hundred and one members, chosen by lot from among those who possessed the franchise. Both for this and for the other magistracies the lot was cast among those who were over thirty years of age; and no one might hold ofce twice until every one else had had his turn, after which they were to cast the lot afresh. If any member of the Council failed to attend when there was a sitting of the Council or of the Assembly, he paid a ne, to the amount of three drachmas if he was a Pentacosiomedimnus, two if he was a Knight, and one if he was a Zeugites. The Council of Areopagus was guardian of the laws, and kept watch over the magistrates to see that they executed their ofces in accordance with the laws. Any person who felt himself wronged might lay an information before the Council of Areopagus, on declaring what law was broken by the wrong done to him. But, as has been said before, loans were secured upon the persons of the debtors, and the land was in the hands of a few. 5 Since such, then, was the organization of the constitution, and the many were in slavery to the few, the people rose against the upper class. The strife was keen, and for a long time the two parties were ranged in hostile camps against one another, until, by common consent, they appointed Solon to be mediator and Archon, and committed the whole constitution to his handshe had written the poem, which begins with the words: I behold, and within my heart deep sadness has claimed its place,

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS As I mark the oldest home of the ancient Ionian race Slain by the sword.

In this poem he ghts and disputes on behalf of each party in turn against the other, and nally he advises them to come to terms and put an end to the quarrel existing between them. By birth and reputation Solon was one of the foremost men of the day, but in wealth and position he was of the middle class, as is generally agreed on other grounds, and is, indeed, established by his own evidence in these poems, where he exhorts the wealthy not to be grasping. But ye who have store of good, who are sated and overow, Restrain your swelling soul, and still it and keep it low: Let the heart that is great within you be trained a lowlier way; Ye shall not have all at your will, and we will not for ever obey. Indeed, he constantly fastens the blame for the conict on the rich; and accordingly at the beginning of the poem he says that he fears the love of wealth and an overweening mind, evidently meaning that it was through these that the quarrel arose. 6 As soon as he was at the head of affairs, Solon liberated the people once and for all, by prohibiting all loans on the security of the debtors person; and in addition he made laws and cancelled all debts, public and private. This measure is commonly called the Seisachtheia4 since thereby the people had their loads removed from them. In connexion with it some persons try to traduce the character of Solon. It so happened that, when he was about to enact the Seisachtheia, he communicated his intention to some members of the upper class, whereupon, as the partisans of the popular party say, his friends stole a march on him; while those who wish to attack his character maintain that he too had a share in the fraud himself. For these persons borrowed money and bought up a large amount of land, and so when, a short time afterwards, all debts were cancelled, they became wealthy; and this, they say, was the origin of the families which were afterwards looked on as having been wealthy from primeval times. However, the story of the popular party is more plausible. A man who was so moderate and public-spirited in all his other actions, that when it was within his power to put his fellow-citizens
4

Removal of burdens.

Aristotle

beneath his feet and establish himself as tyrant, he preferred instead to incur the hostility of both parties by placing his honour and the general welfare above his personal aggrandisement, is not likely to have consented to dele his hands by such a petty and palpable fraud. That he had this absolute power is indicated by the desperate condition of the country; moreover, he mentions it himself repeatedly in his poems, and it is universally admitted. We are therefore bound to consider this accusation to be false. 7 Next Solon drew up a constitution and enacted new laws; and the ordinances of Draco ceased to be used, with the exception of those relating to murder. The laws were inscribed on the wooden stands, and set up in the Kings Porch, and all swore to obey them; and the nine Archons made oath upon the stone, declaring that they would dedicate a golden statue if they should transgress any of them. This is the origin of the oath to that effect which they take to the present day. Solon ratied his laws for a hundred years; and the following was the fashion in which he organized the constitution. He divided the population according to property into four classes, just as it had been divided before, namely, Pentacosiomedimni, Knights, Zeugitae, and Thetes. The various magistracies, namely, the nine Archons, the Treasurers, the Commissioners for Public Contracts [Poletae], the Eleven, and the Exchequer Clerks [Colacretae], he assigned to the Pentacosiomedimni, the Knights, and the Zeugitae, giving ofces to each class in proportion to the value of their property. To those who ranked among the Thetes he gave nothing but a place in the Assembly and in the juries. A man had to rank as a Pentacosiomedimnus if he made, from his own land, ve hundred measures, whether liquid or solid. Those ranked as Knights who made three hundred measures, or, as some say, those who were able to maintain a horse. In support of the latter denition they adduce the name of the class, which may be supposed to be derived from this fact, and also some votive offerings of early times; for in the Acropolis there is a votive offering, a statue of Diphilus, bearing this inscription: The son of Diphilus, Anthemion hight, Raised from the Thetes and become a Knight, Did to the gods this sculptured charger bring, For his promotion a thank-offering. And a horse stands in evidence beside the man, implying that this was what was meant by belonging to the rank of Knight. At the same time it seems more reasonable to suppose that this class, like the Pentacosiomedimni, was dened by the possession of an income of a certain number of measures. Those ranked as

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

Zeugitae who made two hundred measures, liquid or solid; and the rest ranked as Thetes, and were not eligible for any ofce. Hence it is that even at the present day, when a candidate for any ofce is asked to what class he belongs, no one would think of saying that he belonged to the Thetes. 8 The elections to the various ofces Solon enacted should be by lot, out of candidates selected by each of the tribes. Each tribe selected ten candidates for the nine archonships, and among these the lot was cast. Hence it is still the custom for each tribe to choose ten candidates by lot, and then the lot is again cast among these. A sign that Solon regulated the elections to ofce according to the property classes may be found in the law still in force with regard to the Treasurers, which enacts that they shall be chosen from the Pentacosiomedimni. Such was Solons legislation with respect to the nine Archons; whereas in early times the Council of Areopagus summoned suitable persons according to its own judgement and appointed them for the year to the several ofces. There were four tribes, as before, and four tribe-kings. Each tribe was divided into three Trittyes, with twelve Naucraries in each; and the Naucraries had ofcers of their own, called Naucrari, whose duty it was to superintend the current receipts and expenditure. Hence, among the laws of Solon now obsolete, it is repeatedly written that the Naucrari are to receive and to spend out of the Naucraric fund. Solon also appointed a Council of four hundred, a hundred from each tribe; but he assigned to the Council of the Areopagus the duty of superintending the laws, acting as before as the guardian of the constitution in general. It kept watch over the affairs of the state in most of the more important matters, and corrected offenders, with full powers to inict either nes or punishment. The money received in nes it brought up into the Acropolis, without assigning the reason for the mulct. It also tried those who conspired for the overthrow of the state, Solon having enacted a process of impeachment to deal with such offenders. Further, since he saw the state often engaged in internal disputes, while many of the citizens from sheer indifference accepted whatever might turn up, he made a law with express reference to such persons, enacting that any one who, in a time of civil factions, did not take up arms with either party, should lose his rights as a citizen and cease to have any part in the state. 9 Such, then, was his legislation concerning the magistracies. There are three points in the constitution of Solon which appear to be its most democratic features: rst and most important, the prohibition of loans on the security of the debtors person; secondly, the right of every person who so willed to claim redress

Aristotle

on behalf of any one to whom wrong was being done; thirdly, the institution of the appeal to the jury-courts; and it is to this last, they say, that the masses have owed their strength most of all, since, when the people are master of the voting-power, it is master of the constitution. Moreover, since the laws were not drawn up in simple and explicit terms (but like the one concerning inheritances and wards of state), disputes inevitably occurred, and the courts had to decide in every matter, whether public or private. Some persons in fact believe that Solon deliberately made the laws indenite, in order that the nal decision might be in the hands of the people. This, however, is not probable, and the reason no doubt was that it is impossible to attain ideal perfection when framing a law in general terms; for we must judge of his intentions, not from the actual results in the present day, but from the rest of his legislation. 10 These seem to be the democratic features of his laws; but in addition, before the period of his legislation, he carried through his abolition of debts, and after it his increase in the standards of weights and measures, and of the currency. During his administration the measures were made larger than those of Pheidon, and the mina, which previously had a standard of seventy drachmas, was raised to the full hundred. The standard coin in earlier times was the two-drachma piece. He also made weights corresponding with the coinage, sixty-three minas going to the talent; and the odd three minas were distributed among the staters and the other values. 11 When he had completed his organization of the constitution in the manner that has been described, he found himself beset by people coming to him and harassing him concerning his laws, criticizing here and questioning there, till, as he wished neither to alter what he had decided on nor yet to be an object of ill will by remaining in Athens, he set off on a journey to Egypt, with the combined objects of trade and travel, giving out that he should not return for ten years. He considered that it was not right for him to expound the laws personally, but that every one should obey them just as they were written. Moreover, many members of the upper class had been estranged from him on account of his abolition of debts, and both parties were alienated through their disappointment at the condition of things which he had created. The mass of the people had expected him to make a complete redistribution of all property, and the upper class hoped he would restore everything to its former position, or, at any rate, make but a small change. Solon, however, had resisted both classes. He might have made himself a despot by attaching himself to whichever party he chose, but he preferred to incur

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS the enmity of both, by being the saviour of his country and the ideal lawgiver.

12 The truth of this view of Solons policy is established alike by common consent and by the mention he has himself made of the matter in his poems. Thus: I gave to the mass of the people such rank as betted their need, I took not away their honour, and I granted naught to their greed; While those who were rich in power, who in wealth were glorious and great, I bethought me that naught should befall them unworthy their splendour and state; So I stood with my shield outstretched, and both were safe in its sight, And I would not that either should triumph, when the triumph was not with right. Again he declares how the mass of the people ought to be treated: But thus will the people best the voice of their leaders obey, When neither too slack is the rein, nor violence holdeth the sway; For indulgence breedeth a child, the presumption that spurns control, When riches too great are poured upon men of unbalanced soul. And again elsewhere he speaks about the persons who wished to redistribute the land: So they came in search of plunder, and their cravings knew no bound, Every one among them deeming endless wealth would here be found, And that I with glozing smoothness hid a cruel mind within. Fondly then and vainly dreamt they; now they raise an angry din, And they glare askance in anger, and the light within their eyes

10 Burns with hostile ames upon me. Yet therein no justice lies. All I promised, fully wrought I with the gods at hand to cheer, Naught beyond in folly ventured. Never to my soul was dear With a tyrants force to govern, nor to see the good and base Side by side in equal portion share the rich home of our race.

Aristotle

Once more he speaks of the abolition of debts and of those who before were in servitude, but were released owing to the Seisachtheia: Of all the aims for which I summoned forth The people, was there one I compassed not? Thou, when slow time brings justice in its train, O mighty mother of the Olympian gods, Dark Earth, thou best canst witness, from whose breast I swept the pillars broadcast planted there, And made thee free, who hadst been slave of yore. And many a man whom fraud or law had sold Far from his god-built land, an outcast slave, I brought again to Athens; yea, and some, Exiles from home through debts oppressive load, Speaking no more the dear Athenian tongue, But wandering far and wide, I brought again; And those that here in vilest slavery Crouched neath a masters frown, I set them free. Thus might and right were yoked in harmony, Since by the force of law I won my ends And kept my promise. Equal laws I gave To evil and to good, with even hand Drawing straight justice for the lot of each. But had another held the goad as I, One in whose heart was guile and greediness, He had not kept the people back from strife. For had I granted, now what pleased the one, Then what their foes devised in counterpoise,

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS Of many a man this state had been bereft. Therefore I showed my might on every side, Turning at bay like wolf among the hounds.

11

And again he reviles both parties for their grumblings in the times that followed: Nay, if one must lay blame where blame is due, Weret not for me, the people neer had set Their eyes upon these blessings een in dreams While greater men, the men of wealthier life, Should praise me and should court me as their friend. For had any other man, he says, received this exalted post, He had not kept the people back, nor ceased Till he had robbed the richness of the milk. But I stood forth a landmark in the midst. And barred the foes from battle. 13 Such, then, were Solons reasons for his departure from the country. After his retirement the city was still torn by divisions. For four years, indeed, they lived in peace; but in the fth year after Solons government they were unable to elect an Archon on account of their dissensions, and again four years later they elected no Archon for the same reason. Subsequently, after a similar period had elapsed, Damasias was elected Archon; and he governed for two years and two months, until he was forcibly expelled from his ofce. After this it was agreed, as a compromise, to elect ten Archons, ve from the Eupatridae, three from the Agroeci, and two from the Demiurgi; and they ruled for the year following Damasias. It is clear from this that the Archon was at the time the magistrate who possessed the greatest power, since it is always in connexion with this ofce that conicts are seen to arise. But altogether they were in a continual state of internal disorder. Some found the cause and justication of their discontent in the abolition of debts, because thereby they had been reduced to poverty; others were dissatised with the political constitution, because it had undergone a revolutionary change; while with others the motive was found in personal rivalries among themselves. The parties at this time were three in number. First there was the party of the Shore, led by Megacles the son of Alcmeon, which was considered to aim

12

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at a moderate form of government; then there were the men of the Plain, who desired an oligarchy and were led by Lycurgus; and thirdly there were the men of the Highlands, at the head of whom was Pisistratus, who was looked on as an extreme democrat. This party was reinforced by those who had been deprived of the debts due to them, from motives of poverty, and by those who were not of pure descent, from motives of personal apprehension. A proof of this is seen in the fact that after the tyranny was overthrown a revision was made of the citizen-roll, on the ground that many persons were partaking in the franchise without having a right to it. The names given to the respective parties were derived from the districts in which they held their lands. 14 Pisistratus, who had the reputation of being an extreme democrat, and had also distinguished himself greatly in the war with Megara, wounded himself, and by representing that his injuries had been inicted on him by his political rivals, he persuaded the people, through a motion proposed by Aristion, to grant him a bodyguard. After he had got these club-bearers, as they were called, he made an attack with them on the people and seized the Acropolis. This happened in the archonship of Comeas, thirty-one years after the legislation of Solon. It is related that, when Pisistratus asked for his bodyguard, Solon opposed the request, and declared that in so doing he proved himself wiser than half the people and braver than the restwiser than those who did not see that Pisistratus designed to make himself tyrant, and braver than those who saw it and kept silence. But when all his words availed nothing he carried forth his armour and set it up in front of his house, saying that he had helped his country so far as lay in his power (he was already a very old man), and that he called on all others to do the same. Solons exhortations, however, proved fruitless, and Pisistratus assumed the sovereignty. His administration was more like a constitutional government than the rule of a tyrant; but before his power was rmly established, the adherents of Megacles and Lycurgus made a coalition and drove him out. This took place in the archonship of Hegesias, ve years after the rst establishment of his rule. Eleven years later Megacles, being in difculties in a party struggle, again opened negotiations with Pisistratus, proposing that the latter should marry his daughter; and on these terms he brought him back to Athens, by a very primitive and simple-minded device. He rst spread abroad a rumour that Athena was bringing back Pisistratus, and then, having found a woman of great stature and beauty, named Phy e (according to Herodotus, of the deme of Paeania, but as others say a Thracian ower-seller of the deme of Collytus), he dressed her in a garb resembling that of the goddess and brought her into the city with Pisistratus. The latter drove in on a chariot with the

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

13

woman beside him, and the inhabitants of the city, struck with awe, received him with adoration. 15 In this manner did his rst return take place. But later, about six years after his return, he was again expelled. For he did not hold power for long: he refused to treat the daughter of Megacles as his wife, and being afraid in consequence of a combination of the two opposing parties, he retired from the country. First he led a colony to a place Called Rhaicelus, in the region of the Thermaic gulf; and thence he passed to the country in the neighbourhood of Mt. Pangaeus. Here he acquired wealth and hired mercenaries; and not till ten years had elapsed did he return to Eretria and make an attempt to recover the government by force. In this he had the assistance of many allies, notably the Thebans and Lygdamis of Naxos, and also the Knights who held the supreme power in the constitution of Eretria. After his victory in the battle at Pallene he captured Athens, and when he had disarmed the people he at last had his tyranny securely established, and was able to take Naxos and set up Lygdamis as ruler there. He effected the disarmament of the people in the following manner. He ordered a parade in full armour in the Theseum, and began to make a speech to the people. He spoke for a short time, until the people called out that they could not hear him, whereupon he bade them come up to the entrance of the Acropolis, in order that his voice might be better heard. Then, while he continued to speak to them at great length, men whom he had appointed for the purpose collected the arms and locked them up in the chambers of the Theseum hard by, and came and made a signal to him that it was done. Pisistratus accordingly, when he had nished the rest of what he had to say, told the people also what had happened to their arms; adding that they were not to be surprised or alarmed, but go home and attend to their private affairs, while he would himself for the future manage all the business of the state. 16 Such was the origin and such the vicissitudes of the tyranny of Pisistratus. His administration was temperate, as has been said before, and more like constitutional government than a tyranny. Not only was he in every respect humane and mild and ready to forgive those who offended, but, in addition, he advanced money to the poorer people to help them in their labours, so that they might make their living by agriculture. In this he had two objects, rst that they might not spend their time in the city but might be scattered over all the country, and secondly that, being moderately well off and occupied with their own business, they might have neither the wish nor the time to attend to public affairs. At the same time his revenues were increased by the thorough cultivation of the

14

Aristotle

country, since he imposed a tax of one tenth on all the produce. For the same reasons he instituted the local justices, and often made expeditions in person into the country to inspect it and to settle disputes between individuals, that they might not come into the city and neglect their farms. It was in one of the progresses that, as the story goes, Pisistratus had his adventure with the man of Hymettus, who was cultivating the spot afterwards known as Tax-free Farm. He saw a man digging and working at a very stony piece of ground, and being surprised he sent his attendant to ask what he got out of this plot of land. Aches and pains, said the man; and thats what Pisistratus ought to have his tenth of. The man spoke without knowing who his questioner was; but Pisistratus was so pleased with his frank speech and his industry that he granted him exemption from all taxes. And so in matters in general he burdened the people as little as possible with his government, but always cultivated peace and kept them in all quietness. Hence the tyranny of Pisistratus was often spoken of proverbially as the age of gold; for when his sons succeeded him the government became much harsher. But most important of all in this respect was his popular and kindly disposition. In all things he was accustomed to observe the laws, without giving himself any exceptional privileges. Once he was summoned on a charge of homicide before the Areopagus, and he appeared in person to make his defence; but the prosecutor was afraid to present himself and abandoned the case. For these reasons he held power long, and whenever he was expelled he regained his position easily. The majority alike of the upper class and of the people were in his favour; the former he won by his social intercourse with them, the latter by the assistance which he gave to their private purses, and his nature tted him to win the hearts of both. Moreover, the laws in reference to tyrants at that time in force at Athens were very mild, especially the one which applies more particularly to the establishment of a tyranny. The law ran as follows: These are the ancestral statutes of the Athenians; if any persons shall make an attempt to establish a tyranny, or if any person shall join in setting up a tyranny, he shall lose his civic rights, both himself and his whole house. 17 Thus did Pisistratus grow old in the possession of power, and he died of illness in the archonship of Philoneus, thirty-three years from the time at which he rst established himself as tyrant, during nineteen of which he was in possession of power; the rest he spent in exile. It is evident from this that the story is mere gossip which states that Pisistratus was the youthful favourite of Solon and commanded in the war against Megara for the recovery of Salamis. It will not harmonize with their respective ages, as any one may see who will reckon up the

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

15

years of the life of each of them, and the dates at which they died. After the death of Pisistratus his sons took up the government, and conducted it on the same system. He had two sons by his legitimate wife, Hippias and Hipparchus, and two by his Argive consort, Iophon and Hegesistratus, who was surnamed Thessalus. For Pisistratus took a wife from Argos, Timonassa, the daughter of a man of Argos, named Gorgilus; she had previously been the wife of Archius of Ambracia; one of the descendants of Cypselus. This was the origin of his friendship with the Argives, on account of which a thousand of them were brought over by Hegesistratus and fought on his side in the battle at Pallene. Some authorities say that this marriage took place after his rst expulsion from Athens, others while he was in possession of the government. 18 Hippias and Hipparchus assumed the control of affairs on grounds alike of standing and of age; but Hippias, as being the elder and also naturally of a statesmanlike and shrewd disposition, was really the head of the government. Hipparchus was youthful in disposition, amorous, and fond of literature (it was he who invited to Athens Anacreon, Simonides, and the other poets), while Thessalus was much junior in age, and was violent and headstrong in his behaviour. It was from his character that all the evils arose which befell the house. He became enamoured of Harmodius, and, since he failed to win his affection, he lost all restraint upon his passion, and in addition to other exhibitions of rage he nally prevented the sister of Harmodius from taking the part of a basketbearer in the Panathenaic procession, slanderously alleging that Harmodius was a person of loose life. Thereupon, in a frenzy of wrath, Harmodius and Aristogeiton did their celebrated deed, in conjunction with a number of confederates. But while they were lying in wait for Hippias in the Acropolis at the time of the Panathenaea (Hippias, at this moment, was awaiting the arrival of the procession, while Hipparchus was organizing its dispatch) they saw one of the persons privy to the plot talking familiarly with him. Thinking that he was betraying them, and desiring to do something before they were arrested, they rushed down and made their attempt without waiting for the rest of their confederates. They succeeded in killing Hipparchus near the Leocoreum while he was engaged in arranging the procession, but ruined the design as a whole; of the two leaders, Harmodius was killed on the spot by the guards, while Aristogeiton was arrested, and perished later after suffering long tortures. While under the torture he accused many persons who belonged by birth to the most distinguished families and were also personal friends of the tyrants. At rst the government could nd no clue to the conspiracy; for the current story, that Hippias made all who were taking part in the procession

16

Aristotle

leave their arms, and then detected those who were carrying secret daggers, cannot be true, since at that time they did not bear arms in the processions, this being a custom instituted at a later period by the democracy. According to the story of the popular party, Aristogeiton accused the friends of the tyrants with the deliberate intention that the latter might commit an impious act, and at the same time weaken themselves, by putting to death innocent men who were their own friends; others say that he told no falsehood, but was betraying the actual accomplices. At last, when for all his efforts he could not obtain release by death, he promised to give further information against a number of other persons; and, having induced Hippias to give him his hand to conrm his word, as soon as he had hold of it he reviled him for giving his hand to the murderer of his brother, till Hippias, in a frenzy of rage, lost control of himself and snatched out his dagger and dispatched him. 19 After this event the tyranny became much harsher. In consequence of his vengeance for his brother, and of the execution and banishment of a large number of persons, Hippias became a distrusted and an embittered man. About three years after the death of Hipparchus, nding his position in the city insecure, he set about fortifying Munichia, with the intention of establishing himself there. While he was still engaged on this work, however, he was expelled by Cleomenes, king of Lacedaemon, in consequence of the Spartans being continually incited by oracles to overthrow the tyranny. These oracles were obtained in the following way. The Athenian exiles, headed by the Alcmeonidae, could not by their own power effect their return, but failed continually in their attempts. Among their other failures, they fortied a post in Attica, Lipsydrium, above Mt. Parnes, and were there joined by some partisans from the city; but they were besieged by the tyrants and reduced to surrender. After this disaster the following became a popular drinking song: Ah! Lipsydrium, faithless friend! Lo, what heroes to death didst send, Nobly born and great in deed! Well did they prove themselves at need Of noble sires a noble seed. Having failed, then, in every other method, they took the contract for rebuilding the temple at Delphi, thereby obtaining ample funds, which they employed to secure the help of the Lacedaemonians. All this time the Pythia kept continually enjoining on the Lacedaemonians who came to consult the oracle, that they

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

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must free Athens; till nally she succeeded in impelling the Spartans to that step, although the house of Pisistratus was connected with them by ties of hospitality. The resolution of the Lacedaemonians was, however, at least equally due to the friendship which had been formed between the house of Pisistratus and Argos. Accordingly they rst sent Anchimolus by sea at the head of an army; but he was defeated and killed, through the arrival of Cineas of Thessaly in support with a force of a thousand horsemen. Then, being roused to anger by this disaster, they sent their king, Cleomenes, by land at the head of a larger force; and he, after defeating the Thessalian cavalry when they attempted to intercept his march into Attica, shut up Hippias within what was known as the Pelargic wall and blockaded him there with the assistance of the Athenians. While he was sitting down before the place, it so happened that the sons of the Pisistratidae were captured in an attempt to slip out; upon which the tyrants capitulated on condition of the safety of their children, and surrendered the Acropolis to the Athenians, ve days being rst allowed them to remove their effects. This took place in the archonship of Harpactides, after they had held the tyranny for about seventeen years since their fathers death, or in all, including the period of their fathers rule, for forty-nine years. 20 After the overthrow of the tyranny, the rival leaders in the state were Isagoras son of Tisander, a partisan of the tyrants, and Cleisthenes, who belonged to the family of the Alcmeonidae. Cleisthenes, being beaten in the political clubs, called in the people by offering the franchise to the masses. Thereupon Isagoras, nding himself left inferior in power, invited Cleomenes, who was united to him by ties of hospitality, to return to Athens, and persuaded him to drive out the pollution, a plea derived from the fact that the Alcmeonidae were supposed to be under the curse of pollution. On this Cleisthenes retired from the country, and Cleomenes, entering Attica with a small force, expelled, as polluted, seven hundred Athenian families. Having effected this, he next attempted to dissolve the Council, and to set up Isagoras and three hundred of his partisans as the supreme power in the state. The Council, however, resisted, the populace ocked together, and Cleomenes and Isagoras, with their adherents, took refuge on the Acropolis. Here the people sat down and besieged them for two days; and on the third they agreed to let Cleomenes and all his followers depart, while they summoned Cleisthenes and the other exiles back to Athens. When the people had thus obtained the command of affairs, Cleisthenes was their chief and popular leader. For the Alcmeonidae were perhaps the chief cause of the expulsion of the tyrants, and for the greater part of their rule were at perpetual war with them. But even earlier than

18

Aristotle

the attempts of the Alcmeonidae, Cedon made an attack on the tyrants; whence there came another popular drinking song, addressed to him: Pour a health yet again, boy, to Cedon; forget not this duty to do, If a health is an honour betting the name of a good man and true. 21 The people, therefore, had good reason to place condence in Cleisthenes. Accordingly, now that he was the popular leader, three years after the expulsion of the tyrants, in the archonship of Isagoras, his rst step was to distribute the whole population into ten tribes in place of the existing four, with the object of intermixing the members of the different tribes, and so securing that more persons might have a share in the franchise. From this arose the saying Do not look at the tribes, addressed to those who wished to scrutinize the lists of the old families. Next he made the Council to consist of ve hundred members instead of four hundred, each tribe now contributing fty, whereas formerly each had sent a hundred. The reason why he did not organize the people into twelve tribes was that he might not have to use the existing division into trittyes; for the four tribes had twelve trittyes, so that he would not have achieved his object of redistributing the population in fresh combinations. Further, he divided the country into thirty groups of demes, ten from the districts about the city, ten from the coast, and ten from the interior. These he called trittyes; and he assigned three of them by lot to each tribe, in such a way that each should have one portion in each of these three localities. All who lived in any given deme he declared fellowdemesmen, to the end that the new citizens might not be exposed by the habitual use of family names, but that men might be ofcially described by the names of their demes; and accordingly it is by the names of their demes that the Athenians speak of one another. He also instituted Demarchs, who had the same duties as the previously existing Naucrarithe demes being made to take the place of the naucraries. He gave names to the demes, some from the localities to which they belonged, some from the persons who founded them, since some of the areas no longer corresponded to localities possessing names. On the other hand he allowed every one to retain his family and clan and religious rites according to ancestral custom. The names given to the tribes were the ten which the Pythia appointed out of the hundred selected national heroes. 22 By these reforms the constitution became much more democratic than that of Solon. The laws of Solon had been obliterated by disuse during the period

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

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of the tyranny, while Cleisthenes substituted new ones with the object of securing the goodwill of the masses. Among these was the law concerning ostracism. Four years after the establishment of this system, in the archonship of Hermocreon, they rst imposed upon the Council of Five Hundred the oath which they take to the present day. Next they began to elect the generals by tribes, one from each tribe, while the Polemarch was the commander of the whole army. Then, eleven years later, in the archonship of Phaenippus they won the battle of Marathon; and two years after this victory, when the people had now gained self-condence, they for the rst time made use of the law of ostracism. This had originally been passed as a precaution against men in high ofce, because Pisistratus took advantage of his position as a popular leader and general to make himself tyrant; and the rst person ostracized was one of his relatives, Hipparchus son of Charmus, of the deme of Collytus, the very person on whose account especially Cleisthenes had enacted the law, as he wished to get rid of him. (The Athenians, with the usual leniency of the democracy, allowed all the partisans of the tyrants, who had not joined in their evil deeds in the time of the troubles, to remain in the city; and the chief and leader of these was Hipparchus.) Then in the very next year, in the archonship of Telesinus, they for the rst time since the tyranny elected, tribe by tribe, the nine Archons by lot out of the ve hundred candidates selected by the demes, all the earlier ones having been elected by vote; and in the same year Megacles son of Hippocrates, of the deme of Alopece, was ostracized. Thus for three years they continued to ostracize the friends of the tyrants, on whose account the law had been passed; but in the following year they began to remove others as well who seemed to be more powerful than was expedient. The rst person unconnected with the tyrants who was ostracized was Xanthippus son of Ariphron. Two years later, in the archonship of Nicodemus, the mines of Maroneia were discovered, and the state made a prot of a hundred talents from the working of them. Some persons advised the people to make a distribution of the money among themselves, but this was prevented by Themistocles. He refused to say on what he proposed to spend the money, but he bade them lend it to the hundred richest men in Athens, one talent to each, and then, if the manner in which it was employed pleased the people, the expenditure should be charged to the state, but otherwise the state should receive the sum back from those to whom it was lent. On these terms he received the money and with it he had a hundred triremes built, each of the hundred individuals building one; and it was with these ships that they fought the battle of Salamis against the barbarians. About this time Aristides the son of Lysimachus was ostracized. Three years later, however, in the archonship of Hypsichides, all the ostracized persons were recalled, on account of the advance

20

Aristotle

of the army of Xerxes; and it was laid down for the future that persons under sentence of ostracism must not live between Geraestus and Scyllaeum, on pain of losing their civic rights irrevocably. 23 So far, then, had the city progressed by this time, growing gradually with the growth of the democracy; but after the Persian wars the Council of Areopagus once more developed strength and assumed the control of the state. It did not acquire this supremacy by virtue of any formal decree, but because it had been the cause of the battle of Salamis being fought. When the generals were utterly at a loss how to meet the crisis and made proclamation that every one should see to his own safety, the Areopagus provided eight drachmas to each member of the ships crews, and so prevailed on them to go on board. On these grounds people bowed to its prestige; and during this period Athens was well administered. At this time they devoted themselves to the prosecution of war and were in high repute among the Greeks, so that the command by sea was conferred upon them in spite of the opposition of the Lacedaemonians. The leaders of the people during this period were Aristides, son of Lysimachus, and Themistocles, son of Neocles, of whom the latter appeared to devote himself to the conduct of war, while the former had the reputation of being a clever statesman and the most upright man of his time. Accordingly the one was usually employed as general, the other as political adviser. The rebuilding of the fortications they conducted in combination, although they were political opponents; but it was Aristides who, seizing the opportunity afforded by the discredit brought upon the Lacedaemonians by Pausanias, guided the public policy in the matter of the defection of the Ionian states from the alliance with Sparta. It follows that it was he who made the rst assessment of tribute from the various allied states, two years after the battle of Salamis, in the archonship of Timosthenes; and it was he who took the oath of offensive and defensive alliance with the Ionians, on which occasion they cast the masses of iron into the sea. 24 After this, seeing the state growing in condence and much wealth accumulated, he advised the people to lay hold of the leadership of the league, and to quit the country districts and settle in the city. He pointed out to them that all would be able to gain a living there, some by service in the army, others in the garrisons, others by taking a part in public affairs; and in this way they would secure the leadership. This advice was taken; and when the people had assumed the supreme control they proceeded to treat their allies in a more imperious fashion, with the exception of the Chians, Lesbians, and Samians. These they main-

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

21

tained to protect their empire, leaving their constitutions untouched, and allowing them to retain whatever dominion they then possessed. They also secured an ample maintenance for the mass of the population in the way which Aristides had pointed out to them. Out of the proceeds of the tributes and the taxes and the contributions of the allies more than twenty thousand persons were maintained. There were 6,000 jurymen, 1,600 bowmen, 1,200 Knights, 500 members of the Council, 500 guards of the dockyards, besides fty guards in the Acropolis. There were some 700 magistrates at home, and some 700 abroad. Further, when they subsequently went to war, there were in addition 2,500 heavy-armed troops, twenty guard-ships, and other ships which collected the tributes, with crews amounting to 2,000 men, selected by lot; and besides these there were the persons maintained by the Prytaneum, and orphans, and gaolers, since all these were supported by the state. 25 Such was the way in which the people earned their livelihood. The supremacy of the Areopagus lasted for about seventeen years after the Persian wars, although gradually declining. But as the strength of the masses increased, Ephialtes, son of Sophonides, a man with a reputation for incorruptibility and public virtue, who had become the leader of the people, made an attack upon that Council. First of all he ruined many of its members by bringing actions against them with reference to their administration. Then, in the archonship of Conon, he stripped the Council of all the acquired prerogatives from which it derived its guardianship of the constitution, and assigned some of them to the Council of Five Hundred, and others to the Assembly and the law-courts. In this revolution he was assisted by Themistocles, who was himself a member of the Areopagus, but was expecting to be tried before it on a charge of treasonable dealings with Persia. This made him anxious that it should be overthrown, and accordingly he warned Ephialtes that the Council intended to arrest him, while at the same time he informed the Areopagites that he would reveal to them certain persons who were conspiring to subvert the constitution. He then conducted the representatives delegated by the Council to the residence of Ephialtes, promising to show them the conspirators who assembled there, and proceeded to converse with them in an earnest manner. Ephialtes, seeing this, was seized with alarm and took refuge in suppliant guise at the altar. Every one was astounded at the occurrence, and presently, when the Council of Five Hundred met, Ephialtes and Themistocles together proceeded to denounce the Areopagus to them. This they repeated in similar fashion in the Assembly, until they succeeded in depriving it of its power. Not long afterwards, however, Ephialtes was assassinated by Aristodicus of Tana-

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Aristotle

gra. In this way was the Council of Areopagus deprived of its guardianship of the state. 26 After this the administration of the state became more and more lax, in consequence of the eager rivalry of candidates for popular favour. During this period the moderate party, as it happened, had no real chief, their leader being Cimon son of Miltiades, who was a comparatively young man, and had been late in entering public life; and at the same time the general populace suffered great losses by war. The soldiers for active service were selected at that time from the roll of citizens, and as the generals were men of no military experience, who owned their position solely to their family standing, it continually happened that some two or three thousand of the troops perished on an expedition; and in this way the best men alike of the lower and the upper classes were exhausted. Consequently in most matters of administration less heed was paid to the laws than had formerly been the case. No alteration, however, was made in the method of election of the nine Archons, except that ve years after the death of Ephialtes it was decided that the candidates to be submitted to the lot for that ofce might be selected from the Zeugitae as well. The rst Archon from that class was Mnesitheides. Up to this time all the Archons had been taken from the Pentacosiomedimni and Knights, while the Zeugitae were conned to the ordinary magistracies, save where an evasion of the law was overlooked. Four years later, in the archonship of Lysicrates, the thirty local justices, as they were called, were re-established; and two years afterwards, in the archonship of Antidotus, in consequence of the great increase in the number of citizens, it was resolved, on the motion of Pericles, that no one should be admitted to the franchise who was not of citizen birth by both parents. 27 After this Pericles came forward as popular leader, having rst distinguished himself while still a young man by prosecuting Cimon on the audit of his ofcial accounts as general. Under his auspices the constitution became still more democratic. He took away some of the privileges of the Areopagus, and, above all, he turned the policy of the state in the direction of sea power, which caused the masses to acquire condence in themselves and consequently to take the constitution more and more into their own hands. Moreover, forty-eight years after the battle of Salamis, in the archonship of Pythodorus, the Peloponnesian war broke out, during which the populace was shut up in the city and became accustomed to gain its livelihood by military service, and so, partly voluntarily and partly involuntarily, determined to assume the administration of the state itself. Pericles was also the rst to institute pay for service in the law-courts, as a

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

23

bid for popular favour to counterbalance the wealth of Cimon. The latter, having private possessions on a regal scale, not only performed the regular public services magnicently, but also maintained a large number of his fellow-demesmen. Any member of the deme of Laciadae could go every day to Cimons house and there receive a reasonable provision; while his estate was guarded by no fences, so that any one who liked might help himself to the fruit from it. Pericles private property was quite unequal to this magnicence and accordingly he took the advice of Damonides of Oea (who was commonly supposed to be the person who prompted Pericles in most of his measures, and was therefore subsequently ostracized), which was that, as he was beaten in the matter of private possessions, he should make gifts to the people from their own property; and accordingly he instituted pay for the members of the juries. Some critics accuse him of thereby causing a deterioration in the character of the juries, since it was always the common people who put themselves forward for selection as jurors, rather than the men of better position. Moreover, bribery came into existence after this, the rst person to introduce it being Anytus, after his command at Pylos. He was prosecuted by certain individuals on account of his loss of Pylos, but escaped by bribing the jury. 28 So long as Pericles was leader of the people, things went tolerably well with the state; but when he was dead there was a great change for the worse. Then for the rst time did the people choose a leader who was of no reputation among men of good standing, whereas up to this time such men had always been found as leaders of the democracy. The rst leader of the people, in the very beginning of things, was Solon, and the second was Pisistratus, both of them men of birth and position. After the overthrow of the tyrants there was Cleisthenes, a member of the house of the Alcmeonidae; and he had no rival opposed to him after the expulsion of the party of Isagoras. After this Xanthippus was the leader of the people, and Militades of the upper class. Then came Themistocles and Aristides, and after them Ephialtes as leader of the people, and Cimon son of Miltiades of the wealthier class. Pericles followed as leader of the people, and Thucydides, who was connected by marriage with Cimon, of the opposition. After the death of Pericles, Nicias, who subsequently fell in Sicily, appeared as leader of the aristocracy, and Cleon son of Cleaenetus of the people. The latter seems, more than any one else, to have been the cause of the corruption of the democracy by his wild undertakings; and he was the rst to use unseemly shouting and coarse abuse on the Bema, and to harangue the people with his cloak girt up short about him, whereas all his predecessors had spoken decently and in order. These were succeeded by Ther-

24

Aristotle

amenes son of Hagnon as leader of the one party, and the lyre-maker Cleophon of the people. It was Cleophon who rst granted the two-obol donation and for some time it continued to be given; but then Callicrates of Paeania ousted him by promising to add a third obol to the sum. Both of these persons were subsequently condemned to death; for the people, even if they are deceived for a time, in the end generally come to detest those who have beguiled them into any unworthy action. After Cleophon the popular leadership was occupied successively by the men who chose to talk the biggest and pander the most to the tastes of the majority, with their eyes xed only on the interests of the moment. The best statesmen at Athens, after those of early times, seem to have been Nicias, Thucydides, and Theramenes. As to Nicias and Thucydides, nearly every one agrees that they were not merely men of birth and character, but also statesmen, and that they ruled the state with paternal care. On the merits of Theramenes opinion is divided, because it so happened that in his time public affairs were in a very stormy state. But those who give their opinion deliberately nd him, not, as his critics falsely assert, overthrowing every kind of constitution, but supporting every kind so long as it did not transgress the laws; thus showing that he was able, as every good citizen should be, to live under any form of constitution, while he refused to countenance illegality and was its constant enemy. 29 So long as the fortune of the war continued even, the Athenians preserved the democracy; but after the disaster in Sicily, when the Lacedaemonians had gained the upper hand through their alliance with the king of Persia, they were compelled to abolish the democracy and establish in its place the constitution of the Four Hundred. The speech recommending this course before the vote was made by Melobius, and the motion was proposed by Pythodorus of Anaphlystus; but the real argument which persuaded the majority was the belief that the king of Persia was more likely to form an alliance with them if the constitution were on an oligarchical basis. The motion of Pythodorus was to the following effect. The popular Assembly was to elect twenty persons from among those over forty years of age, who, in conjunction with the existing ten members of the Committee of Public Safety, after taking an oath that they would frame such measures as they thought best for the state, should then prepare proposals for the public safety. In addition, any other person might make proposals, so that of all the schemes before them the people might choose the best. Cleitophon concurred with the motion of Pythodorus, but moved that the committee should also investigate the ancient laws enacted by Cleisthenes when he created the democracy, in order that they might have these too before them and so be in a position to decide wisely; his

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

25

suggestion being that the constitution of Cleisthenes was not really democratic, but closely akin to that of Solon. When the committee was elected, their rst proposal was that the Prytanes should be completed to put to the vote any motion that was offered on behalf of the public safety. Next they abolished all indictments for illegal proposals, all impeachments and public prosecutions, in order that every Athenian should be free to give his counsel on the situation, if he chose; and they decreed that if any person imposed a ne on any other for his acts in this respect, or prosecuted him or summoned him before the courts, he should, on an information being laid against him, be brought before the generals, who should deliver him to the Eleven to be put to death. After these preliminary measures, they drew up the constitution in the following manner. The revenues of the state were not to be spent on any purpose except the war. All magistrates should serve without remuneration for the period of the war, except the nine Archons and the Prytanes for the time being, who should each receive three obols a day. The whole of the rest of the administration was to be committed, for the period of the war, to those Athenians who were most capable of serving the state personally or pecuniarily, to the number of not less than ve thousand. This body was to have full powers, to the extent even of making treaties with whomsoever they willed; and ten representatives, over forty years of age, were to be elected from each tribe to draw up the list of the Five Thousand, after taking an oath on a full and perfect sacrice. 30 These were the recommendations of the committee; and when they had been ratied the Five Thousand elected from their own number a hundred commissioners to draw up the constitution. They, on their appointment, drew up and produced the following recommendations. There should be a Council, holding ofce for a year, consisting of men over thirty years of age, serving without pay. To this body should belong the Generals, the nine Archons, the Amphictyonic Registrar [Hieromnemon], the Taxiarchs, the Hipparchs, the Phylarchs, the commanders of garrisons, the Treasurers of Athena and the other gods, ten in number, the Hellenic Treasurers [Hellenotamiae], the Treasurers of the other non-sacred moneys, to the number of twenty, the ten Commissioners of Sacrices [Hieropoei], and the ten Superintendents of the mysteries. All these were to be appointed by the Council from a larger number of selected candidates, chosen from its members for the time being. The other ofces were all to be lled by lot, and not from the members of the Council. The Hellenic Treasurers who actually administered the funds should not sit with the Council. As regards the future, four Councils were to be created, of men of the age already mentioned, and one of these was to be chosen by lot to take ofce at once, while the others were to receive it in turn, in

26

Aristotle

the order decided by the lot. For this purpose the hundred commissioners were to distribute themselves and all the rest as equally as possible into four parts, and cast lots for precedence, and the selected body should hold ofce for a year. They were to administer that ofce as seemed to them best, both with reference to the safe custody and due expenditure of the nances, and generally with regard to all other matters to the best of their ability. If they desired to take a larger number of persons into counsel, each member might call in one assistant of his own choice, subject to the same qualication of age. The Council was to sit once every ve days, unless there was any special need for more frequent sittings. The casting of the lot for the Council was to be held by the nine Archons; votes on divisions were to be counted by ve tellers chosen by lot from the members of the Council, and of these one was to be selected by lot every day to act as president. These ve persons were to cast lots for precedence between the parties wishing to appear before the Council, giving the rst place to sacred matters, the second to heralds, the third to embassies, and the fourth to all other subjects; but matters concerning the war might be dealt with, on the motion of the generals, whenever there was need, without balloting. Any member of the Council who did not enter the Council-house at the time named should be ned a drachma for each day, unless he was away on leave of absence from the Council. 31 Such was the constitution which they drew up for the time to come, but for the immediate present they devised the following scheme. There should be a Council of Four Hundred, as in the ancient constitution, forty from each tribe, chosen out of candidates of more than thirty years of age, selected by the members of the tribes. This Council should appoint the magistrates and draw up the form of oath which they were to take; and in all that concerned the laws, in the examination of ofcial accounts, and in other matters generally, they might act according to their discretion. They must, however, observe the laws that might be enacted with reference to the constitution of the state, and had no power to alter them nor to pass others. The generals should be provisionally elected from the whole body of the Five Thousand, but so soon as the Council came into existence it was to hold an examination of military equipments, and thereon elect ten persons, together with a secretary, and the persons thus elected should hold ofce during the coming year with full powers, and should have the right, whenever they desired it, of joining in the deliberations of the Council. They were also to elect a single Hipparch and ten Phylarchs; but for the future the Council was to elect these ofcers according to the regulations above laid down. No ofce, except those of member of the Council and of general, might be held more than once, either by the rst occupants or by

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

27

their successors. With reference to the future distribution of the Four Hundred into the four successive sections, the hundred commissioners must divide them whenever the time came for the citizens to join in the Council along with the rest. 32 The hundred commissioners appointed by the Five Thousand drew up the constitution as just stated; and after it had been ratied by the people, under the presidency of Aristomachus, the existing Council, that of the year of Callias, was dissolved before it had completed its term of ofce. It was dissolved on the fourteenth day of the month Thargelion, and the Four Hundred entered into ofce on the twenty-rst; whereas the regular Council, elected by lot, ought to have entered into ofce on the fourteenth of Scirophorion. Thus was the oligarchy established, in the archonship of Callias, just about a hundred years after the expulsion of the tyrants. The chief promoters of the revolution were Pisander, Antiphon, and Theramenes, all of them men of good birth and with high reputations for ability and judgement. When, however, this constitution had been established, the Five Thousand were only nominally selected, and the Four Hundred, together with the ten ofcers on whom full powers had been conferred, occupied the Council-house and really administered the government. They began by sending ambassadors to the Lacedaemonians proposing a cessation of the war on the basis of the existing position; but as the Lacedaemonians refused to listen to them unless they would also abandon the command of the sea, they broke off the negotiations. 33 For about four months the constitution of the Four Hundred lasted, and Mnasilochus held ofce as Archon of their nomination for two months of the year of Theopompus, who was Archon for the remaining ten. On the loss of the naval battle of Eretria, however, and the revolt of the whole of Euboea except Oreum, the indignation of the people was greater than at any of the earlier disasters, since they drew far more supplies at this time from Euboea than from Attica itself. Accordingly they deposed the Four Hundred and committed the management of affairs to the Five Thousand, consisting of persons possessing a military equipment. At the same time they voted that pay should not be given for any public ofce. The persons chiey responsible for the revolution were Aristocrates and Theramenes, who disapproved of the action of the Four Hundred in retaining the direction of affairs entirely in their own hands, and referring nothing to the Five Thousand. During this period the constitution of the state seems to have been admirable, since it was a time of war and the franchise was in the hands of those who possessed military equipment. 34 The people, however, in a very short time deprived the Five Thousand

28

Aristotle

of their monopoly of the government. Then, six years after the overthrow of the Four Hundred, in the archonship of Callias of Angele, the battle of Arginusae took place, of which the results were, rst, that the ten generals who had gained the victory were all condemned by a single decision, owing to the people being led astray by persons who aroused their indignation; though, as a matter of fact, some of the generals had actually taken no part in the battle, and others were themselves picked up by other vessels. Secondly, when the Lacedaemonians proposed to evacuate Decelea and make peace on the basis of the existing position, although some of the Athenians supported this proposal, the majority refused to listen to them. In this they were led astray by Cleophon, who appeared in the Assembly drunk and wearing his breastplate, and prevented peace being made, declaring that he would never accept peace unless the Lacedaemonians abandoned their claims on all the cities allied with them. They mismanaged their opportunity then, and in a very short time they learnt their mistake. The next year, in the archonship of Alexias, they suffered the disaster of Aegospotami, the consequence of which was that Lysander became master of the city, and set up the Thirty in the following manner. One of the terms of peace stipulated that the state should be governed according to the ancient constitution. Accordingly the popular party tried to preserve the democracy, while that part of the upper class which belonged to the political clubs, together with the exiles who had returned since the peace, aimed at an oligarchy, and those who were not members of any club, though in other respects they considered themselves as good as any other citizens, were anxious to restore the ancient constitution. The latter class included Archinus, Anytus, Cleitophon, Phormisius, and many others, but their most prominent leader was Theramenes. Lysander, however, threw his inuence on the side of the oligarchical party, and the popular Assembly was compelled by sheer intimidation to pass a vote establishing the oligarchy. The motion to this effect was proposed by Dracontides of Aphidna. 35 In this way were the Thirty established in power, in the archonship of Pythodorus. As soon, however, as they were masters of the city, they ignored all the resolutions which had been passed relating to the organization of the constitution, but after appointing a Council of Five Hundred and the other magistrates out of a thousand selected candidates, and associating with themselves ten Archons in Piraeus, eleven superintendents of the prison, and three hundred lash-bearers as attendants, they kept the city under their own control. At rst, indeed, they behaved with moderation towards the citizens and pretended to administer the state according to the ancient constitution. They took down from the hill of Areopagus

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

29

the laws of Ephialtes and Archestratus relating to the Areopagite Council; they also repealed such of the statutes of Solon as were obscure, and abolished the supreme power of the law-courts. In this they claimed to be restoring the constitution and freeing it from obscurities; as, for instance, by making the testator free once and for all to leave his property as he pleased, and abolishing the existing limitations in cases of insanity, old age, and undue female inuence, in order that no opening might be left for professional accusers. In other matters also their conduct was similar. At rst, then, they acted on these lines, and they destroyed the professional accusers and those mischievous and evil-minded persons who, to the great detriment of the democracy, had attached themselves to it in order to curry favour with it. With all of this the city was much pleased, and thought that the Thirty were doing it with the best of motives. But so soon as they had got a rmer hold on the city, they spared no class of citizens, but put to death any persons who were eminent for wealth or birth or character. Herein they aimed at removing all whom they had reason to fear, while they also wished to lay hands on their possessions; and in a short time they put to death not less than fteen hundred persons. 36 Theramenes, however, seeing the city thus falling into ruin, was displeased with their proceedings, and counselled them to cease such unprincipled conduct and let the better classes have a share in the government. At rst they resisted his advice, but when his proposals came to be known abroad, and the masses began to associate themselves with him, they were seized with alarm lest he should make himself the leader of the people and destroy their despotic power. Accordingly they drew up a list of three thousand citizens, to whom they announced that they would give a share in the constitution. Theramenes, however, criticized this scheme also, rst on the ground that, while proposing to give all respectable citizens a share in the constitution, they were actually giving it only to three thousand persons, as though all merit were conned within that number; and secondly because they were doing two inconsistent things, since they made the government rest on the basis of force, and yet made the governors inferior in strength to the governed. However, they took no notice of his criticisms, and for a long time put off the publication of the list of the Three Thousand and kept to themselves the names of those who had been placed upon it; and every time they did decide to publish it they proceeded to strike out some of those who had been included in it, and insert others who had been omitted. 37 Now when winter had set in, Thrasybulus and the exiles occupied Phyle,

30

Aristotle

and the force which the Thirty led out to attack them met with a reverse. Thereupon the Thirty decided to disarm the bulk of the population and to get rid of Theramenes; which they did in the following way. They introduced two laws into the Council, which they commanded it to pass; the rst of them gave the Thirty absolute power to put to death any citizen who was not included in the list of the Three Thousand, while the second disqualied all persons from participation in the franchise who should have assisted in the demolition of the fort of E etioneia, or have acted in any way against the Four Hundred who had organized the previous oligarchy. Theramenes had done both, and accordingly, when these laws were ratied, he became excluded from the franchise and the Thirty had full power to put him to death. Theramenes having been thus removed, they disarmed all the people except the Three Thousand, and in every respect showed a great advance in cruelty and crime. They also sent ambassadors to Lacedaemon to blacken the character of Theramenes and to ask for help; and the Lacedaemonians, in answer to their appeal, sent Callibius as military governor with about seven hundred troops, who came and occupied the Acropolis. 38 These events were followed by the occupation of Munichia by the exiles from Phyle, and their victory over the Thirty and their partisans. After the ght the party of the city retreated, and next day they held a meeting in the marketplace and deposed the Thirty, and elected ten citizens with full powers to bring the war to a termination. When, however, the Ten had taken over the government they did nothing toward the object for which they were elected, but sent envoys to Lacedaemon to ask for help and to borrow money. Further, nding that the citizens who possessed the franchise were displeased at their proceedings, they were afraid lest they should be deposed, and consequently, in order to strike terror into them (in which design they succeeded), they arrested Demaretus, one of the most eminent citizens, and put him to death. This gave them a rm hold on the government, and they also had the support of Callibius and his Peloponnesians, together with several of the Knights; for some of the members of this class were the most zealous among the citizens to prevent the return of the exiles from Phyle. When, however, the party in Piraeus and Munichia began to gain the upper hand in the war, through the defection of the whole populace to them, the party in the city deposed the original Ten, and elected another Ten, consisting of men of the highest repute. Under their administration, and with their active and zealous co-operation, the treaty of reconciliation was made and the populace returned to the city. The most prominent members of this board were Rhinon of Paeania and Phayllus of Acherdus, who, even before the arrival of Pausanias, opened negotiations with the party in

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

31

Piraeus, and after his arrival seconded his efforts to bring about the return of the exiles. For it was Pausanias, the king of the Lacedaemonians, who brought the peace and reconciliation to a fullment, in conjunction with the ten commissioners of arbitration who arrived later from Lacedaemon, at his own earnest request. Rhinon and his colleagues received a vote of thanks for the goodwill shown by them to the people, and though they received their charge under an oligarchy and handed in their accounts under a democracy, no one, either of the party that had stayed in the city or of the exiles that had returned from the Piraeus, brought any complaint against them. On the contrary, Rhinon was immediately elected general on account of his conduct in this ofce. 39 This reconciliation was effected in the archonship of Eucleides, on the following terms. All persons who, having remained in the city during the troubles, were now anxious to leave it, were to be free to settle at Eleusis, retaining their civil rights and possessing full and independent powers of self-government, and with the free enjoyment of their own personal property. The temple at Eleusis should be common ground for both parties, and should be under the superintendence of the Ceryces and the Eumolpidae, according to ancient custom. The settlers at Eleusis should not be allowed to enter Athens, nor the people of Athens to enter Eleusis, except at the season of the mysteries. The secessionists should pay their share to the fund for the common defence out of their revenues, just like all the other Athenians. If any of the seceding party wished to take a house in Eleusis, the people would help them to obtain the consent of the owner; but if they could not come to terms, they should appoint three valuers on either side, and the owner should receive whatever price they should appoint. Of the inhabitants of Eleusis, those whom the secessionists wished to remain should be allowed to do so. The list of those who desired to secede should be made up within ten days after the taking of the oaths in the case of persons already in the country, and their actual departure should take place within twenty days; persons at present out of the country should have the same terms allowed to them after their return. No one who settled at Eleusis should be capable of holding any ofce in Athens until he should again register himself on the roll as a resident in the city. Trials for homicide, in which one party had either killed or wounded another, should be conducted according to ancestral practice. There should be a general amnesty concerning past events towards all persons except the Thirty, the Ten, the Eleven, and the magistrates in Piraeus; and these too should be included if they should submit their accounts in the usual way. Such accounts should be given by the magistrates in Piraeus before a court of citizens in Piraeus, and by the magistrates

32

Aristotle

in the city before a court of those rated.5 On these terms those who wished to do so might secede. Each party was to repay separately the money which it had borrowed for the war. 40 When the reconciliation had taken place on these terms, those who had fought on the side of the Thirty felt considerable apprehensions, and a large number intended to secede. But as they put off entering their names till the last moment, as people will do, Archinus, observing their numbers, and being anxious to retain them as citizens, cut off the remaining days during which the list should have remained open; and in this way many persons were compelled to remain, though they did so very unwillingly until they recovered condence. This is one point in which Archinus appears to have acted in a most statesmanlike manner, and another was his subsequent prosecution of Thrasybulus on the charge of illegality, for a motion by which he proposed to confer the franchise on all who had taken part in the return from Piraeus, although some of them were notoriously slaves. And yet a third such action was when one of the returned exiles began to violate the amnesty, whereupon Archinus haled him to the Council and persuaded them to execute him without trial, telling them that now they would have to show whether they wished to preserve the democracy and abide by the oaths they had taken; for if they let this man escape they would encourage others to imitate him, while if they executed him they would make an example for all to learn by. And this was exactly what happened; for after this man had been put to death no one ever again broke the amnesty. On the contrary, the Athenians seem, both in public and in private, to have behaved in the most unprecedentedly admirable and publicspirited way with reference to the preceding troubles. Not only did they blot out all memory of former offences, but they even repaid to the Lacedaemonians out of the public purse the money which the Thirty had borrowed for the war, although the treaty required each party, the party of the city and the party of Piraeus, to pay its own debts separately. This they did because they thought it was a necessary rst step in the direction of restoring harmony; but in other states, so far from the democratic parties making advances from their own possessions, they are rather in the habit of making a general redistribution of the land. A reconciliation was made with the secessionists at Eleusis two years after the secession, in the archonship of Xenaenetus. 41 This, however, took place at a later date; at the time of which we are speaking the people, having secured the control of the state, established the con5

The text is uncertain.

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

33

stitution which exists at the present day. Pythodorus was Archon at the time, but the democracy seems to have assumed the supreme power with perfect justice, since it had effected its own return by its own exertions.6 This was the eleventh change which had taken place in the constitution of Athens. The rst modication of the primaeval condition of things was when Ion and his companions brought the people together into a community, for then the people were rst divided into the four tribes, and the tribe-kings were created. Next, and rst after this, having now some semblance of a constitution, was that which took place in the reign of Theseus, consisting in a slight deviation from absolute monarchy. After this came the constitution formed under Draco, when the rst code of laws was drawn up. The third was that which followed the civil war, in the time of Solon; from this the democracy took its rise. The fourth was the tyranny of Pisistratus; the fth the constitution of Cleisthenes, after the overthrow of the tyrants, of a more democratic character than that of Solon. The sixth was that which followed on the Persian wars, when the Council of Areopagus had the direction of the state. The seventh, succeeding this, was the constitution which Aristides sketched out, and which Ephialtes brought to completion by overthrowing the Areopagite Council; under this the nation, misled by the demagogues, made the most serious mistakes in the interest of its maritime empire. The eighth was the establishment of the Four Hundred, followed by the ninth, the restored democracy. The tenth was the tyranny of the Thirty and the Ten. The eleventh was that which followed the return from Phyle and Piraeus; and this has continued from that day to this, with continual accretions of power to the masses. The democracy has made itself master of everything and administers everything by its votes in the Assembly and by the law-courts, in which it holds the supreme power. Even the jurisdiction of the Council has passed into the hands of the people at large; and this appears to be a judicious change, since small bodies are more open to corruption, whether by actual money or inuence, than large ones. At rst they refused to allow payment for attendance at the Assembly; but the result was that people did not attend. Consequently, after the Prytanes had tried many devices in order to induce the populace to come and ratify the votes, Agyrrhius, in the rst instance, made a provision of one obol a day, which Heracleides of Clazomenae, nicknamed the king, increased to two obols, and Agyrrhius again to three. 42 The present state of the constitution is as follows. The franchise is open to all who are of citizen birth by both parents. They are enrolled among the demesmen at the age of eighteen. On the occasion of their enrolment the
6

Kenyon obelizes this sentence.

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Aristotle

demesmen give their votes on oath, rst whether the candidates appear to be of the age prescribed by the law (if not, they are dismissed back into the ranks of the boys), and secondly whether the candidate is free born and of such parentage as the laws require. Then if they decide that he is not a free man, he appeals to the law-courts, and the demesmen appoint ve of their own number to act as accusers; if the court decides that he has no right to be enrolled, he is sold by the state as a slave, but if he wins his case he has a right to be enrolled among the demesmen without further question. After this the Council examines those who have been enrolled, and if it comes to the conclusion that any of them is less than eighteen years of age, it nes the demesmen who enrolled him. When the youths [Ephebi] have passed this examination, their fathers meet by their tribes, and appoint on oath three of their fellow tribesmen, over forty years of age, who, in their opinion, are the best and most suitable persons to have charge of the youths; and of these the Assembly elects one from each tribe as guardian, together with a director, chosen from the general body of Athenians, to control them all. Under the charge of these persons the youths rst of all make the circuit of the temples; then they proceed to Piraeus, and some of them garrison Munichia and some the south shore. The Assembly also elects two trainers, with subordinate instructors, who teach them to ght in heavy armour, to use the bow and javelin, and to discharge a catapult. The guardians receive from the state a drachma apiece for their keep, and the youths four obols apiece. Each guardian receives the allowance for all the members of his tribe and buys the necessary provisions for the common stock (they mess together by tribes), and generally superintends everything. In this way they spend the rst year. The next year, after giving a public display of their military evolutions, on the occasion when the Assembly meets in the theatre, they receive a shield and spear from the state; after which they patrol the country and spend their time in the forts. For these two years they are on garrison duty, and wear the military cloak, and during this time they are exempt from all taxes. They also can neither bring an action at law, nor have one brought against them, in order that they may have no excuse for requiring leave of absence; though exception is made in cases of actions concerning inheritances and wards of state, or of any sacricial ceremony connected with the family. When the two years have elapsed they thereupon take their position among the other citizens. Such is the manner of the enrolment of the citizens and the training of the youths. 43 All the magistrates that are concerned with the ordinary routine of administration are elected by lot, except the Military Treasurer, the Commissioners of the Theoric fund, and the Superintendent of Springs. These are elected by vote,

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

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and hold ofce from one Panathenaic festival to the next. All military ofcers are also elected by vote. The Council of Five Hundred is elected by lot, fty from each tribe. Each tribe holds the ofce of Prytanes in turn, the order being determined by lot; the rst four serve for thirty-six days each, the last six for thirty-ve, since the reckoning is by lunar years. The Prytanes for the time being, in the rst place, mess together in the Tholus and receive a sum on money from the state for their maintenance; and, secondly, they convene the meetings of the Council and the Assembly. The Council they convene every day, unless it is a holiday, the Assembly four times in each prytany. It is also their duty to draw up the programme of the business of the Council and to decide what subjects are to be dealt with on each particular day, and where the sitting is to be held. They also draw up the programme for the meetings of the Assembly. One of these in each prytany is called the sovereign Assembly; in this the people have to ratify the continuance of the magistrates in ofce, if they are performing their duties properly, and to consider the supply of corn and the defence of the country. On this day, too, impeachments are introduced by those who wish to do so, the lists of property conscated by the state are read, and also applications for inheritances and wards of state, so that nothing may pass unclaimed without the cognizance of any person concerned. In the sixth prytany, in addition to the business already stated, the question is put to the vote whether it is desirable to hold a vote of ostracism or not; and complaints against professional accusers, whether Athenian or aliens domiciled in Athens, are received, to the number of not more than three of either class, together with cases in which an individual has made some promise to the people and has not performed it. Another Assembly in each prytany is assigned to the hearing of petitions, and at this meeting any one is free, on depositing the petitioners olive-branch, to speak to the people concerning any matter, public or private. The two remaining meetings are devoted to all other subjects, and the laws require them to deal with three questions connected with religion, three connected with heralds and embassies, and three on secular subjects. Sometimes questions are brought forward without a preliminary vote. Heralds and envoys appear rst before the Prytanes, and the bearers of dispatches also deliver them to the same ofcials. 44 There is a single President of the Prytanes, elected by lot, who presides for a night and a day; he may not hold the ofce for more than that time, nor may the same individual hold it twice. He keeps the keys of the sanctuaries in which the treasures and public records of the state are preserved, and also the

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public seal; and he is bound to remain in the Tholus, together with one-third of the Prytanes, named by himself. Whenever the Prytanes convene a meeting of the Council or Assembly, he appoints by lot nine Proedri, one from each tribe except that which holds the ofce of Prytanes for the time being; and out of these nine he similarly appoints one as President, and hands over the programme for the meeting to them. They take it and see to the preservation of order, put forward the various subjects which are to be considered, decide the results of the votings, and direct the proceedings generally. They also have power to dismiss the meeting. No one may act as President more than once in the year, but he may be a Proedrus once in each prytany. Elections to the ofces of General and Hipparch and all other military commands are held in the Assembly, in such manner as the people decide; they are held after the sixth prytany by the rst board of Prytanes in whose term of ofce the omens are favourable. There has, however, to be a preliminary consideration by the Council in this case also. 45 In former times the Council had full powers to inict nes and imprisonment and death. When it had consigned Lysimachus to the executioner, and he was sitting in the immediate expectation of death, Eumelides of Alopece rescued him from its hands, maintaining that no citizen ought to be put to death except on the decision of a court of law. Accordingly a trial was held in a law-court, and Lysimachus was acquitted, receiving henceforth the nickname of the man from the drum-head; and the people deprived the Council thenceforward of the power to inict death or imprisonment or ne, passing a law that if the Council condemn any person for an offence or inict a ne, the Thesmothetae shall bring the sentence or ne before the law-court, and the decision of the jurors shall be the nal judgement in the matter. The Council passes judgement on nearly all magistrates, especially those who have the control of money; its judgement, however, is not nal, but is subject to an appeal to the law-courts. Private individuals, also, may lay an information against any magistrate they please for not obeying the laws, but here too there is an appeal to the law-courts if the Council declare the charge proved. The Council also examines those who are to be its members for the ensuing year, and likewise the nine Archons. Formerly the Council had full power to reject candidates for ofce as unsuitable, but now they have an appeal to the law-courts. In all these matters, therefore, the Council has no nal jurisdiction. It takes, however, preliminary cognizance of all matters brought before the Assembly, and the Assembly cannot vote on any question unless it has rst been considered by the Council and placed

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on the programme by the Prytanes; since a person who carries a motion in the Assembly is liable to an action for illegal proposal on these grounds. 46 The Council also superintends the triremes that are already in existence, with their tackle and sheds, and builds new triremes or quadriremes, whichever the Assembly votes, with tackle and sheds to match. The Assembly appoints masterbuilders for the ships by vote; and if they do not hand them over completed to the next Council, they cannot receive the donationthat being normally given during the term of the following Council. For the building of the triremes it appoints ten commissioners, chosen from its own members. The Council also inspects all public buildings, and if it is of opinion that the state is being defrauded, it reports the culprit to the Assembly, and on condemnation hands him over to the law-courts. 47 The Council also co-operates with the other magistrates in most of their duties. First there are the treasurers of Athena, ten in number, elected by lot, one from each tribe. According to the law of Solonwhich is still in forcethey must be Pentacosiomedimni, but in point of fact the person on whom the lot falls holds the ofce even though he be quite a poor man. These ofcers take over charge of the statue of Athena, the gures of Victory, and all the other ornaments of the temple, together with the money, in the presence of the Council. Then there are the Commissioners for Public Contracts [Poletae], ten in number, one chosen by lot from each tribe, who farm out all the public contracts. They lease the mines and taxes in conjunction with the Military Treasurer and the Commissioners of the Theoric fund, in the presence of the Council, and grant, to the persons indicated by the vote of the Council, the mines which are let out by the state, including both the workable ones, which are let for three years, and those which are let under special agreements for ten years. They also sell, in the presence of the Council, the property of those who have gone into exile from the court of the Areopagus, and of others whose goods have been conscated, and the nine Archons ratify the contracts. They also hand over to the Council lists of the taxes which are farmed out for the year, entering on whitened tablets the name of the lessee and the amount paid. They make separate lists, rst of those who have to pay their instalments in each prytany, on ten several tablets, next of those who pay thrice in the year, with a separate tablet for each instalment, and nally of those who pay in the ninth prytany. They also draw up a list of farms and dwellings which have been conscated and sold by order of the courts; for these too come within their province. In the case of dwellings the value must be paid up in ve years, and in

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that of farms, in ten. The instalments are paid in the ninth prytany. Further, the King-archon brings before the Council the leases of the sacred enclosures written on whitened tablets. These too are leased for ten years, and the instalments are paid in the ninth prytany; consequently it is in this prytany that the greatest amount of money is collected. The tablets containing the lists of the instalments are carried into the Council, and the public clerk takes charge of them. Whenever a payment of instalments is to be made he takes from the pigeon-holes the precise list of the sums which are to be paid and struck off on that day, and delivers it to the Receivers-General. The rest are kept apart, in order that no sum may be struck off before it is paid. 48 There are ten Receivers-General [Apodectae], elected by lot, one from each tribe. These ofcers receive the tablets, and strike off the instalments as they are paid, in the presence of the Council in the Council-chamber, and give the tablets back to the public clerk. If any one fails to pay his instalment, a note is made of it on the tablet; and he is bound to pay double the amount of the deciency, or, in default, to be imprisoned. The Council has full power by the laws to exact these payments and to inict this imprisonment. They receive all the instalments, therefore, on one day, and portion the money out among the magistrates; and on the next day they bring up the report of the apportionment, written on a wooden notice-board, and read it out in the Council-chamber, after which they ask publicly in the Council whether any one knows of any malpractice in reference to the apportionment, on the part of either a magistrate or a private individual, and if any one is charged with malpractice they take a vote on it. The Council also elects ten Auditors [Logistae] by lot from its own members, to audit the accounts of the magistrates for each prytany. They also elect one Examiner of Accounts [Euthunus] by lot from each tribe, with two assessors [Paredri] for each examiner, whose duty it is to sit at the ordinary market hours, each opposite the statue of the eponymous hero of his tribe; and if any one wishes to prefer a charge, on either public or private grounds, against any magistrate who has passed his audit before the law-courts, within three days of his having so passed, he enters on a whitened tablet his own name and that of the magistrate prosecuted, together with the malpractice that is alleged against him. He also appends his claim for a penalty of such amount as seems to him tting, and gives in the record to the Examiner. The latter takes it, and if after reading it he considers it proved he hands it over, if a private case, to the local justices who introduce cases for the tribe concerned, while if it is a public case he enters it on the register of the Thesmothetae. Then, if the Thesmothetae accept it, they bring the accounts of

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this magistrate once more before the law-court, and the decision of the jury stands as the nal judgement. 49 The Council also inspects the horses belonging to the state. If a man who has a good horse is found to keep it in bad condition, he is mulcted in his allowance of corn; while those which cannot keep up or which shy and will not stand steady, it brands with a wheel on the jaw, and the horse so marked is disqualied for service. It also inspects those who appear to be t for service as scouts, and any one whom it rejects is deprived of his horse. It also examines the infantry who serve among the cavalry, and any one whom it rejects ceases to receive his pay. The roll of the cavalry is drawn up by the Commissioners of Enrolment [Catalogeis], ten in number, elected by the Assembly by open vote. They hand over to the Hipparchs and Phylarchs the list of those whom they have enrolled, and these ofcers take it and bring it up before the Council, and there open the tablet containing the names of the cavalry. If any of those who have been on the roll previously make afdavit that they are physically incapable of cavalry service, they strike them out; then they call up the persons enrolled, and if any one makes afdavit that he is either physically or pecuniarily incapable of cavalry service they dismiss him, but if no such afdavit is made the Council vote whether the individual in question is suitable for the purpose or not. If they vote in the afrmative his name is entered on the tablet; if not, he is dismissed with the others. Formerly the Council used to decide on the plans for public buildings and the contract for making the robe of Athena; but now this is done by a jury in the law-courts appointed by lot, since the Council was considered to have shown favouritism in its decisions. The Council also shares with the Military Treasurer the superintendence of the manufacture of the images of Victory and the prizes at the Panathenaic festival. The Council also examines inrm paupers; for there is a law which provides that persons possessing less than three minas, who are so crippled as to be unable to do any work, are, after examination by the Council, to receive two obols a day from the state for their support. A treasurer is appointed by lot to attend to them. The Council also, speaking broadly, co-operates in most of the duties of all the other magistrates; and this ends the list of the functions of that body. 50 There are ten Commissioners for Repairs of Temples elected by lot, who receive a sum of thirty minas from the Receivers-General, and therewith carry out the most necessary repairs in the temples. There are also ten City Commissioners [Astynomi], of whom ve hold ofce

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in Piraeus and ve in the city. Their duty is to see that female ute- and harp- and lute-players are not hired at more than two drachmas, and if more than one person is anxious to hire the same girl, they cast lots and hire her out to the person to whom the lot falls. They also provide that no collector of sewage shall deposit any of his sewage within ten stadia of the walls; they prevent people from blocking up the streets by building, or stretching barriers across them, or making raised drainpipes with a discharge into the street, or having doors which open outwards; they also remove the corpses of those who die in the streets for which purpose they have a body of state slaves assigned to them. 51 Market Commissioners [Agoranomi] are elected by lot, ve for Piraeus, ve for the city. Their statutory duty is to see that all articles offered for sale in the market are pure and unadulterated. Commissioners of Weights and Measures [Metronomi] are elected by lot, ve for the city, and ve for Piraeus. They see that sellers use fair weights and measures. Formerly there were ten Corn Commissioners [Sitophylaces], elected by lot, ve for Piraeus, and ve for the city; but now there are twenty for the city and fteen for Piraeus. Their duties are, rst, to see that the unprepared corn in the market is offered for sale at reasonable prices, and secondly, to see that the millers sell barley meal at a price proportionate to that of barley, and that the bakers sell their loaves at a price proportionate to that of wheat, and of such weight as the Commissioners may appoint; for the law requires them to x the standard weight. There are ten Superintendents of the Mart, elected by lot, whose duty is to superintend the Mart, and to compel merchants to bring up into the city two-thirds of the corn which is brought by sea to the Corn Mart. 52 The Eleven also are appointed by lot to take care of the prisoners in the state gaol. Thieves, kidnappers, and pickpockets are brought to them, and if they plead guilty they are executed, but if they deny the charge the Eleven bring the case before the law-courts; if the prisoners are acquitted, they release them, but if not, they then execute them. They also bring up before the law-courts the list of farms and houses claimed as state-property; and if it is decided that they are so, they deliver them to the Commissioners for Public Contracts. The Eleven also bring up informations laid against magistrates alleged to be disqualied; this function comes within their province, but some such cases are brought up by the Thesmothetae. There are also ve Introducers of Cases [Eisagogeis], elected by lot, one for

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each pair of tribes, who bring up the one-month cases to the law-courts. The one-month cases are these: refusal to pay up a dowry where a party is bound to do so, refusal to pay interest on money borrowed at 12 per cent., or where a man desirous of setting up business in the market has borrowed from another man capital to start with; also cases of slander, cases arising out of friendly loans or partnerships, and cases concerned with slaves, cattle, and the ofce of trierarch, or with banks. These are brought up as one-month cases and are introduced by these ofcers; but the Receivers-General perform the same function in cases for or against the farmers of taxes. Those in which the sum concerned is not more than ten drachmas they can decide summarily, but all above that amount they bring into the law-courts as one-month cases. 53 The Forty are also elected by lot, four from each tribe, before whom suitors bring all other cases. Formerly they were thirty in number, and they went on circuit through the demes to hear causes; but after the oligarchy of the Thirty they were increased to forty. They have full powers to decide cases in which the amount at issue does not exceed ten drachmas, but anything beyond that value they hand over to the Arbitrators. The Arbitrators take up the case, and, if they cannot bring the parties to an agreement, they give a decision. If their decision satises both parties, and they abide by it, the case is at an end; but if either of the parties appeals to the law-courts, the Arbitrators enclose the evidence, the pleadings, and the laws quoted in the case in two urns, those of the plaintiff in the one, and those of the defendant in the other. These they seal up and, having attached to them the decision of the arbitrator, written out on a tablet, place them in the custody of the four justices whose function it is to introduce cases on behalf of the tribe of the defendant. These ofcers take them and bring up the case before the law-court, to a jury of two hundred and one members in cases up to the value of a thousand drachmas, or to one of four hundred and one in cases above that value. No laws or pleadings or evidence may be used except those which were adduced before the Arbitrator, and have been enclosed in the urns. The Arbitrators are persons in the sixtieth year of their age; this appears from the schedule of the Archons and the Eponymi. There are two classes of Eponymi, the ten who give their names to the tribes, and the forty-two of the years of service. The youths, on being enrolled among the citizens, were formerly registered upon whitened tablets, and the names were appended by the Archon in whose year they were enrolled, and by the Eponymus who had been in course in the preceding year; at the present day they are written on a bronze pillar, which stands in front of the Council-chamber, near the Eponymi of the tribes. Then the Forty take

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the last of the Eponymi of the years of service, and assign the arbitrations to the persons belonging to that year, casting lots to determine which arbitrations each shall undertake; and every one is compelled to carry through the arbitrations which the lot assigns to him. The law enacts that any one who does not serve as Arbitrator when he has arrived at the necessary age shall lose his civil rights, unless he happens to be holding some other ofce during that year, or to be out of the country. These are the only persons who escape the duty. Any one who suffers injustice at the hands of the Arbitrator may appeal to the whole board of Arbitrators, and if they nd the magistrate guilty the law enacts that he shall lose his civil rights. The persons thus condemned have, however, in their turn an appeal. The Eponymi are also used in reference to military expeditions; when the men of military age are despatched on service, a notice is put up stating that the men from such-and-such an Archon and Eponymus to such-and-such another Archon and Eponymus are to go on the expedition. 54 The following magistrates also are elected by lot: Five Commissioners of Roads [Hodopoei], who, with an assigned body of public slaves, are required to keep the roads in order; and ten Auditors, with ten assistants, to whom all persons who have held any ofce must give in their accounts. These are the only ofcers who audit the accounts of those who are subject to examination, and who bring them up for examination before the law-courts. If they detect any magistrate in embezzlement, the jury condemn him for theft, and he is obliged to repay tenfold the sum he is declared to have misappropriated. If they charge a magistrate with accepting bribes and the jury convict him, they ne him for corruption, and this sum too is repaid tenfold. Or if they convict him of unfair dealing, he is ned on that charge, and the sum assessed is paid without increase, if payment is made before the ninth prytany, but otherwise it is doubled. A tenfold ne is not doubled. The Clerk of the Prytany, as he is called, is also elected by lot. He has the charge of all public documents, and keeps the resolutions which are passed by the Assembly, and checks the transcripts of all other ofcial papers and attends at the sessions of the Council. Formerly he was elected by vote, and the most distinguished and trustworthy persons were elected to the post, as is known from the fact that the name of this ofcer is appended on the pillars recording treaties of alliance and grants of consulship and citizenship. Now, however, he is elected by lot. There is, in addition, a Clerk of the Laws, elected by lot, who attends at the sessions of the Council; and he too checks all the transcripts. The Assembly also elects by open vote a clerk to read documents to it and to the Council; but he has no other duty except that of reading aloud.

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The Assembly also elects by lot the Commissioners of Public Worship [Hieropoei], known as the Commissioners for Sacrices, who offer the sacrices appointed by oracle, and, in conjunction with the seers, take the auspices whenever there is occasion. It also elects by lot ten others, known as Annual Commissioners, who offer certain sacrices and administer all the quadrennial festivals except the Panathenaea. There are the following quadrennial festivals: rst that of Delos (where there is also a sexennial festival), secondly the Brauronia, thirdly the Heracleia, fourthly the Eleusinia, and fthly the Panathenaea; and no two of these are celebrated in the same place. To these the Hephaestia has now been added, in the archonship of Cephisophon. An Archon is also elected by lot for Salamis, and a Demarch for Piraeus. These ofcers celebrate the Dionysia in these two places, and appoint Choregi. In Salamis, moreover, the name of the Archon is publicly recorded. 55 All the foregoing magistrates are elected by lot, and their powers are those which have been stated. To pass on to the nine Archons, as they are called, the manner of their rst establishment has been described already. At the present day six Thesmothetae are elected by lot, together with their clerk, and in addition to these an Archon, a King, and a Polemarch. One is elected from each tribe. They are examined rst of all by the Council of Five Hundred, with the exception of the clerk. The latter is examined only in the law-court, like other magistrates (for all magistrates, whether elected by lot or by open vote, are examined before entering on their ofces); but the nine Archons are examined both in the Council and again in the law-court. Formerly no one could hold the ofce if the Council rejected him, but now there is an appeal to the law-court, which is the nal authority in the matter of the examination. When they are examined, they are asked, rst, Who is your father, and of what deme? who is your fathers father? who is your mother? who is your mothers father, and of what deme? Then the candidate is asked whether he possesses an ancestral Apollo and a household Zeus, and where their sanctuaries are; next if he possesses a family tomb, and where; then if he treats his parents well, and pays his taxes, and has served on the required military expeditions. When the examiner has put these questions, he proceeds, Call the witnesses to these facts; and when the candidate has produced his witnesses, he next asks, Does any one wish to make any accusation against this man? If an accuser appears, he gives the parties an opportunity of making their accusation and defence, and then puts it to the Council to pass the candidate or not, and to the lawcourt to give the nal vote. If no one wishes to make an accusation, he proceeds at once to the vote. Formerly a single individual gave the vote, but now all the mem-

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bers are obliged to vote on the candidates, so that if any unprincipled candidate has managed to get rid of his accusers, it may still be possible for him to be disqualied before the law-court. When the examination has been thus completed, they proceed to the stone on which are the pieces of the victims, and on which the Arbitrators take oath before declaring their decisions, and witnesses swear to their testimony. On this stone the Archons stand, and swear to execute their ofce uprightly and according to the laws, and not to receive presents in respect of the performance of their duties, or, if they do, to dedicate a golden statue. When they have taken this oath they proceed to the Acropolis, and there they repeat it; after this they enter upon their ofce. 56 The Archon, the King, and the Polemarch have each two assessors, nominated by themselves. These ofcers are examined in the law-court before they begin to act, and give in accounts on each occasion of their acting. As soon as the Archon enters ofce, he begins by issuing a proclamation that whatever any one possessed before he entered into ofce, that he shall possess and hold until the end of his term. Next he assigns Choregi to the tragic poets, choosing three of the richest persons out of the whole body of Athenians. Formerly he used also to assign ve Choregi to the comic poets, but now the tribes provide the Choregi for them. Then he receives the Choregi who have been appointed by the tribes for the mens and boys choruses and the comic poets at the Dionysia, and for the mens and boys choruses at the Thargelia (at the Dionysia there is a chorus for each tribe, but at the Thargelia one between two tribes, each tribe taking its turn in providing it); he transacts the exchanges of properties for them, and reports any excuses that are tendered, if any one says that he has already performed this service, or that he is exempt because he has performed some other service and the period of his exemption has not yet expired, or that he is not of the required age; for the Choregus of a boys chorus must be over forty years of age. He also appoints Choregi for the festival at Delos, and a chief of the mission for the thirty-oar boat which conveys the youths thither. He also superintends sacred processions, both that in honour of Asclepius, when the initiated keep house, and that of the great Dionysiathe latter in conjunction with the Superintendents of that festival. These ofcers, ten in number, were formerly elected by open vote in the Assembly, and used to provide for the expenses of the procession out of their private means; but now one is elected by lot from each tribe, and the state contributes a hundred minas for the expenses. The Archon also superintends the procession at the Thargelia, and that in honour of Zeus the Saviour. He also manages the contests at the Dionysia and the Thargelia.

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These, then, are the festivals which he superintends. The suits and indictments which come before him, and which he, after a preliminary inquiry, brings up before the law-courts, are as follows. Injury to parents (for bringing these actions the prosecutor cannot suffer any penalty); injury to orphans (these actions lie against their guardians); injury to a ward of state (these lie against their guardians or their husbands); injury to an orphans estate (these too lie against the guardians); mental derangement, where a party charges another with destroying his own property through unsoundness of mind; for appointment of liquidators, where a party refuses to divide property in which others have a share; for constituting a wardship; for determining between rival claims to a wardship; for granting inspection of property to which another party lays claim; for appointing oneself as guardian; and for determining disputes as to inheritances and wards of state. The Archon also has the care of orphans and wards of state, and of women who, on the death of their husbands, declare themselves to be with child; and he has power to inict a ne on those who offend against the persons under his charge, or to bring the case before the law-courts. He also leases the houses of orphans and wards of state until they reach the age of fourteen, and takes mortgages on them; and if the guardians fail to provide the necessary food for the children under their charge, he exacts it from them. Such are the duties of the Archon. 57 The King in the rst place superintends the mysteries, in conjunction with the Superintendents of Mysteries. The latter are elected in the Assembly by open vote, two from the general body of Athenians, one from the Eumolpidae, and one from the Ceryces. Next, he superintends the Lenaean Dionysia, which consists of a procession and a contest. The procession is ordered by the King and the Superintendents in conjunction; but the contest is managed by the King alone. He also manages all the contests of the torch-race; and to speak broadly, he administers all the ancestral sacrices. Indictments for impiety come before him, or any disputes between parties concerning priestly rites; and he also determines all controversies concerning sacred rites for the ancient families and the priests. All actions for homicide come before him, and it is he that makes the proclamation requiring polluted persons to keep away from sacred ceremonies. Actions for homicide and wounding are heard, if the homicide or wounding is willful, in the Areopagus; so also in cases of killing by poison, and of arson. These are the only cases heard by that Council. Cases of unintentional homicide, or of intent to kill, or of killing a slave or a resident alien or a foreigner, are heard by the court of Palladium. When the homicide is acknowledged, but legal justication is pleaded, as when a man takes an adulterer in the act, or kills another by mistake in

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battle or in an athletic contest, the prisoner is tried in the court of Delphinium. If a man who is in banishment for a homicide which admits of reconciliation incurs a further charge of killing or wounding, he is tried in Phreatto, and he makes his defence from a boat moored near the shore. All these cases, except those which are heard in the Areopagus, are tried by the Ephetae on whom the lot falls. The King introduces them, and the hearing is held within sacred precincts and in the open air. Whenever the King hears a case he takes off his crown. The person who is charged with homicide is at all other times excluded from the temples, nor is it even lawful for him to enter the market-place; but on the occasion of his trial he enters the temple and makes his defence. If the actual offender is unknown, the writ runs against the doer of the deed. The King and the tribe-kings also hear the cases in which the guilt rests on inanimate objects and animals. 58 The Polemarch performs the sacrices to Artemis the huntress and to Enyalius, and arranges the contest at the funeral of those who have fallen in war, and makes offerings to the memory of Harmodius and Aristogeiton. Only private actions come before him, namely those in which resident aliens, both ordinary and privileged, and agents of foreign states are concerned. It is his duty to receive these cases and divide them into ten groups, and assign to each tribe the group which comes to it by lot; after which the magistrates who introduce cases for the tribe hand them over to the Arbitrators. The Polemarch, however, brings up in person cases in which an alien is charged with deserting his patron or neglecting to provide himself with one, and also of inheritances and wards of state where aliens are concerned; and in fact, generally, whatever the Archon does for citizens, the Polemarch does for aliens. 59 The Thesmothetae in the rst place have the power of prescribing on what days the law-courts are to sit, and next of assigning them to the several magistrates; for the latter must follow the arrangement which the Thesmothetae assign. Moreover they introduce impeachments before the Assembly, and bring up all votes for removal from ofce, challenges of a magistrates conduct before the Assembly, indictments for illegal proposals or for proposing a law which is contrary to the interests of the state, complaints against Proedri or their president for their conduct in ofce, and the accounts presented by the generals. All indictments also come before them in which a deposit has to be made by the prosecutor, namely, indictments for concealment of foreign origin, for corrupt evasion of foreign origin (when a man escapes the disqualication by bribery), for blackmailing accusations, bribery, false entry of another as a state debtor, false testimony to the

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service of a summons, conspiracy to enter a man as a state debtor, corrupt removal from the list of debtors; and adultery. They also bring up the examinations of all magistrates, and the rejections by the demes and the condemnations by the Council. Moreover they bring up certain private suits in cases of merchandise and mines, or where a slave has slandered a free man. It is they also who cast lots to assign the courts to the various magistrates, whether for private or public cases. They ratify commercial treaties, and bring up the cases which arise out of such treaties; and they also bring up cases of perjury from the Areopagus. The casting of lots for the jurors is conducted by all the nine Archons, with the clerk to the Thesmothetae as the tenth, each performing the duty for his own tribe. Such are the duties of the nine Archons. 60 There are also ten Commissioners of Games [Athlothetae], elected by lot, one from each tribe. These ofcers, after passing an examination, serve for four years; and they manage the Panathenaic procession, the contest in music and that in gymnastic, and the horse-race; they also provide the robe of Athena and, in conjunction with the Council, the vases, and they present the oil to the athletes. This oil is collected from the sacred olives. The Archon requisitions it from the owners of the farms on which the sacred olives grow, at the rate of three-quarters of a pint from each plant. Formerly the state used to sell the fruit itself, and if any one dug up or broke down one of the sacred olives, he was tried by the Council of Areopagus, and if he was condemned, the penalty was death. Since, however, the oil has been paid by the owner of the farm, the procedure has lapsed, though the law remains; and the oil is a state charge upon the property instead of being taken from the individual plants. When then, the Archon has collected the oil for his year of ofce, he hands it over to the Treasurers to preserve in the Acropolis, and he may not take his seat in the Areopagus until he has paid over to the Treasurers the full amount. The Treasurers keep it in the Acropolis until the Panathenaea, when they measure it out to the Commissioners of Games, and they again to the victorious competitors. The prizes for the victors in the musical contest consist of silver and gold, for the victors in manly vigour, of shields, and for the victors in the gymnastic contest and the horse-race, of oil. 61 All ofcers connected with military service are elected by open vote. In the rst place, ten Generals [Strategi], who were formerly elected one from each tribe, but now are chosen from the whole mass of citizens. Their duties are assigned to them by open vote; one is appointed to command the heavy infantry, and leads them if they go out to war; one to the defence of the country, who re-

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Aristotle

mains on the defensive, and ghts if there is war within the borders of the country; two to Piraeus, one of whom is assigned to Munichia, and one to the south shore, and these have charge of the defence of the Piraeus; and one to superintend the symmories, who nominates the trierarchs and arranges exchanges of properties for them, and brings up actions to decide on rival claims in connexion with them. The rest are dispatched to whatever business may be on hand at the moment. The appointment of these ofcers is submitted for conrmation in each prytany, when the question is put whether they are considered to be doing their duty. If any ofcer is rejected on this vote, he is tried in the law-court, and if he is found guilty the people decide what punishment or ne shall be inicted on him; but if he is acquitted he resumes his ofce. The Generals have full power, when on active service, to arrest any one for insubordination, or to cashier him publicly, or to inict a ne; the latter is, however, unusual. There are also ten Taxiarchs, one from each tribe, elected by open vote; and each commands his own tribesmen and appoints captains of companies [Lochagi]. There are also two Hipparchs, elected by open vote from the whole mass of the citizens, who command the cavalry, each taking ve tribes. They have the same powers as the Generals have in respect of the infantry, and their appointments are also subject to conrmation. There are also ten Phylarchs, elected by open vote, one from each tribe, to command the cavalry, as the Taxiarchs do the infantry. There is also a Hipparch for Lemnos, elected by open vote, who has charge of the cavalry in Lemnos. There is also a treasurer of the Paralus, and another of the Ammonias, similarly elected. 62 Of the magistrates elected by lot, in former times some, including the nine Archons, were elected out of the tribe as a whole, while others, namely those who are now elected in the Theseum, were apportioned among the demes; but since the demes used to sell the elections, these magistrates too are now elected from the whole tribe, except the members of the Council and the guards, who are still left to the demes. Pay is received for the following services. First the members of the Assembly receive a drachma for the ordinary meetings, and nine obols for the sovereign meeting. Then the jurors at the law-courts receive three obols; and the members of the Council ve obols. The Prytanes receive an allowance of an obol for their maintenance. The nine Archons receive four obols apiece for maintenance, and also keep a herald and a ute-player; and the Archon for Salamis receives a drachma a day. The Commissioners for Games dine in the Prytaneum during the month of Hecatombaeon in which the Panathenaic festival takes place, from the

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

49

fourteenth day onwards. The Amphictyonic deputies to Delos receive a drachma a day from the exchequer of Delos. Also all magistrates sent to Samos, Scyros, Lemnos, or Imbros receive an allowance for their maintenance. The military ofces may be held any number of times, but none of the others more than once, except the membership of the Council, which may be held twice. 63 The juries for the law-courts are chosen by lot by the nine Archons, each for their own tribe, and by the clerk to the Thesmothetae for the tenth. There are ten entrances into the courts, one for each tribe; twenty rooms in which the lots are drawn, two for each tribe; a hundred chests, ten for each tribe; other chests, in which are placed the tickets of the jurors on whom the lot falls; and two vases. Further, staves, equal in number to the jurors required, are placed by the side of each entrance; and counters are put into one vase, equal in number to the staves. These are inscribed with letters of the alphabet beginning with the eleventh (lambda), equal in number to the courts which require to be lled. All persons above thirty years of age are qualied to serve as jurors, provided they are not debtors to the state and have not lost their civil rights. If any unqualied person serves as juror, an information is laid against him, and he is brought before the court: if he is convicted, the jurors assess the punishment or ne which they consider him to deserve. If he is condemned to a money ne, he must be imprisoned until he has paid up both the original debt, on account of which the information was laid against him, and also the ne which the court has imposed upon him. Each juror has his ticket of box-wood, on which is inscribed his name, with the name of his father and his deme, and one of the letters of the alphabet up to kappa; for the jurors in their several tribes are divided into ten sections, with approximately an equal number in each letter. When the Thesmothetes has decided by lot which letters are required to attend at the courts, the servant puts up above each court the letter which has been assigned to it by the lot. 64 The ten chests are placed in front of the entrance used by each tribe, and are inscribed with the letters of the alphabet from alpha to kappa. The jurors cast in their tickets, each into the chest on which is inscribed the letter which is on his ticket; then the servant shakes them all up, and the Thesmothetes draws one ticket from each chest. The individual so selected is called the Ticket-hanger [Empectes], and his function is to hang up the tickets out of his chest on the bar which bears the same letter as that on the chest. He is chosen by lot, lest, if the Ticket-hanger were always the same person, he might tamper with the results. There are ve of these bars in each of the rooms assigned for the lot-drawing. Then

50

Aristotle

the Archon casts in the dice and thereby chooses the jurors from each tribe, room by room. The dice are made of bronze, coloured black or white; and according to the number of jurors required, so many white dice are put in, one for each ve tickets, while the remainder are black, in the same proportion. As the Archon draws out the dice, the crier calls out the names of the individuals chosen. The Ticket-hanger is included among those selected. Each juror, as he is chosen and answers to his name, draws a counter from the vase, and holding it out with the letter uppermost shows it rst to the presiding archon; and he, when he has seen it, throws the ticket of the juror into the chest on which is inscribed the letter which is on the counter, so that the juror must go into the court assigned to him by lot, and not into one chosen by himself, and that it may be impossible for any one to collect the jurors of his choice into any particular court. For this purpose chests are placed near the Archon, as many in number as there are courts to be lled that day, bearing the letters of the courts on which the lot has fallen. 65 The juror thereupon, after showing his counter again to the attendant, passes through the barrier into the court. The attendant gives him a staff of the same colour as the court bearing the letter which is on his counter, so as to ensure his going into the court assigned to him by lot; since, if he were to go into any other, he would be betrayed by the colour of his staff. Each court has a certain colour painted on the lintel of the entrance. Accordingly the juror, bearing his staff, enters the court which has the same colour as his staff, and the same letter as his counter. As he enters, he receives a voucher from the ofcial to whom this duty has been assigned by lot. So with their counters and their staves the selected jurors take their seats in the court, having thus completed the process of admission. The unsuccessful candidates receive back their tickets from the Ticket-hangers. The public servants carry the chests from each tribe, one to each court, containing the names of the members of the tribe who are in that court, and hand them over to the ofcials, ve in number,7 assigned to the duty of giving back their tickets to the jurors in each court, so that these ofcials may call them up by name and pay them their fee. 66 When all the courts are full, two ballot boxes are placed in the rst court, and a number of bronze dice, bearing the colours of the several courts, and other dice inscribed with the names of the presiding magistrates. Then two of the Thesmothetae, selected by lot, severally throw the dice with the colours into one box, and those with the magistrates names into the other. The magistrate whose
7

Reading arithme pente.

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

51

name is rst drawn is thereupon proclaimed by the crier as assigned for duty in the court which is rst drawn, and the second in the second, and similarly with the rest. The object of this procedure is that no one may know which court he will have, but that each may take the court assigned to him by lot. When the jurors have come in, and have been assigned to their respective courts, the presiding magistrate in each court draws one ticket out of each chest (making ten in all, one out of each tribe), and throws them into another empty chest. He then draws out ve of them, and assigns one to the superintendence of the water-clock, and the other four to the telling of the votes. This is to prevent any tampering beforehand with either the superintendent of the clock or the tellers of the votes, and to secure that there is no malpractice in these respects. The ve who have not been selected for these duties receive from them a statement of the order in which the jurors shall receive their fees, and of the places where the several tribes shall respectively gather in the court for this purpose when their duties are completed; the object being that the jurors may be broken up into small groups for the reception of their pay, and not all crowd together and impede one another. 67 These preliminaries being concluded, the cases are called on. If it is a day for private cases, the private litigants are called. Four cases are taken in each of the categories dened in the law, and the litigants swear to conne their speeches to the point at issue. If it is a day for public causes, the public litigants are called, and only one case is tried. Water-clocks are provided, having small supply-tubes, into which the water is poured by which the length of the pleadings is regulated. Ten gallons are allowed for a case in which an amount of more than ve thousand drachmas is involved, and three for the second speech on each side. When the amount is between one and ve thousand drachmas, seven gallons are allowed for the rst speech and two for the second; when it is less than one thousand, ve and two. Six gallons are allowed for arbitrations between rival claimants, in which there is no second speech. The ofcial chosen by lot to superintend the water-clock places his hand on the supply-tube whenever the clerk is about to read a resolution or law or afdavit or treaty. When, however, a case is conducted according to a set measurement of the day, he does not stop the supply, but each party receives an equal allowance of water. The standard of measurement is the length of the days in the month Poseideon8 . . . . The measured day is employed in cases when imprisonment, death, exile, loss of civil rights, or conscation of goods is assigned as the penalty.
8

The next ten lines in the papyrus are mutilated.

52

Aristotle

68 Most of the courts consist of 500 members . . . ;9 and when it is necessary to bring public cases before a jury of 1,000 members, two courts combine for the purpose, . . .10 The ballot balls are made of bronze with stems running through the centre, half of them having the stem pierced and the other half solid. When the speeches are concluded, the ofcials assigned to the taking of the votes give each juror two ballot balls, one pierced and one solid. This is done in full view of the rival litigants, to secure that no one shall receive two pierced or two solid balls. Then the ofcial designated for the purpose takes away the jurors staves, in return for which each one as he records his vote receives a brass voucher marked with the numeral 3 (because he gets three obols when he gives it up). This is to ensure that all shall vote; for no one can get a voucher unless he votes. Two urns, one of bronze and the other of wood, stand in the court, in distinct spots so that no one may surreptitiously insert ballot balls; in these the jurors record their votes. The bronze urn is for effective votes, the wooden for unused votes; and the bronze urn has a lid pierced so as to take only one ballot ball, in order that no one may put in two at a time. When the jurors are about to vote, the crier demands rst whether the litigants enter a protest against any of the evidence; for no protest can be received after the voting has begun. Then he proclaims again, The pierced ballot for the plaintiff, the solid for the defendant; and the juror, taking his two ballot balls from the stand, with his hand closed over the stem so as not to show either the pierced or the solid ballot to the litigants, casts the one which is to count into the bronze urn, and the other into the wooden urn. 69 When all the jurors have voted, the attendants take the urn containing the effective votes and discharge them on to a reckoning board having as many cavities as there are ballot balls, so that the effective votes, whether pierced or solid, may be plainly displayed and easily counted. Then the ofcials assigned to the taking of the votes tell them off on the board, the solid in one place and the pierced in another, and the crier announces the numbers of the votes, the pierced ballots being for the prosecutor and the solid for the defendant. Whichever has the majority is victorious; but if the votes are equal the verdict is for the defendant. Then, if damages have to be awarded, they vote again in the same way, rst returning their pay-vouchers and receiving back their staves. Half a gallon of water is allowed to each party for the discussion of the damages. Finally, when all
9 10

The papyrus is mutilated at this point. The papyrus is mutilated here.

CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS

53

has been completed in accordance with the law, the jurors receive their pay in the order assigned by the lot.

FRAGMENTS
Aristotle

The Complete Works of Aristotle

Electronic markup by Jamie L. Spriggs InteLex Corporation P.O. Box 859, Charlottesville, Virginia, 22902-0859, USA Available via ftp or on Macintosh or DOS CD-ROM from the publisher.

Complete Works (Aristotle). Jonathan Barnes, Princeton University Press, Princeton, N.J. 1991.

These texts are part of the Past Masters series. This series is an attempt to collect the most important texts in the history of philosophy, both in original language and English translation (if the original language is other English). All Greek has been transliterated and is delimited with the term tag.

May 1996 Jamie L. Spriggs, InteLex Corp. publisher Converted from Folio Flat File to TEI.2-compatible SGML; checked against print text; parsed against local teilite dtd.

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ARISTOTLE THE REVISED OXFORD TRANSLATION Edited by JONATHAN BARNES VOLUME TWO BOLLINGEN SERIES LXXI 2 PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS Copyright 1984 by The Jowett Copyright Trustees Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William St., Princeton, New Jersey In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, Oxford No part of this electronic edition may be printed without written permission from The Jowett Copyright Trustees and Princeton University Press. All Rights Reserved THIS IS PART TWO OF THE SEVENTY-FIRST IN A SERIES OF WORKS SPONSORED BY BOLLINGEN FOUNDATION Printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey Second Printing, 1985 Fourth Printing, 1991 987654

Contents
Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Note to the Reader . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . FRAGMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CATALOGUE OF ARISTOTLES WRITINGS . . . I DIALOGUES F 1-111 R3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . II LOGIC F 112-124 R3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . III RHETORIC AND POETICS F 125-179 R3 . . . IV ETHICS F 180-184 R3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . V PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS F 185-208 R3 . . . VI PHYSICS F 209-278 R3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . VII BIOLOGY F 279-380 R3 . . . . . . . . . . . . VIII HISTORICAL WORKS F 381-644 R3 . . . . . IX LETTERS F 645-670 R3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . X POEMS F 671-675 R3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ARISTOTLES WILL (Diogenes Laertius, V 11-16): . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii v vi 2 2 4 12 52 55 60 61 75 78 81 87 91 93

PREFACE
BENJAMIN JOWETT1 published his translation of Aristotles Politics in 1885, and he nursed the desire to see the whole of Aristotle done into English. In his will he left the perpetual copyright on his writings to Balliol College, desiring that any royalties should be invested and that the income from the investment should be applied in the rst place to the improvement or correction of his own books, and secondly to the making of New Translations or Editions of Greek Authors. In a codicil to the will, appended less than a month before his death, he expressed the hope that the translation of Aristotle may be nished as soon as possible. The Governing Body of Balliol duly acted on Jowetts wish: J. A. Smith, then a Fellow of Balliol and later Waynete Professor of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, and W. D. Ross, a Fellow of Oriel College, were appointed as general editors to supervise the project of translating all of Aristotles writings into English; and the College came to an agreement with the Delegates of the Clarendon Press for the publication of the work. The rst volume of what came to be known as The Oxford Translation of Aristotle appeared in 1908. The work continued under the joint guidance of Smith and Ross, and later under Rosss sole editorship. By 1930, with the publication of the eleventh volume, the whole of the standard corpus aristotelicum had been put into English. In 1954 Ross added a twelfth volume, of selected fragments, and thus completed the task begun almost half a century earlier. The translators whom Smith and Ross collected together included the most eminent English Aristotelians of the age; and the translations reached a remarkable standard of scholarship and delity to the text. But no translation is perfect, and all translations date: in 1976, the Jowett Trustees, in whom the copyright of the Translation lies, determined to commission a revision of the entire text. The Oxford Translation was to remain in substance its original self; but alterations were to be made, where advisable, in the light of recent scholarship and with the requirements of modern readers in mind. The present volumes thus contain a revised Oxford Translation: in all but three treatises, the original versions have been conserved with only mild emendations.
The text of Aristotle: The Complete Works is The Revised Oxford Translation of The Complete Works of Aristotle, edited by Jonathan Barnes, and published by Princeton University Press in 1984. Each reference line contains the approximate Bekker number range of the paragraph if the work in question was included in the Bekker edition.
1

PREFACE

iii

(The three exceptions are the Categories and de Interpretatione, where the translations of J. L. Ackrill have been substituted for those of E. M. Edgehill, and the Posterior Analytics, where G. R. G. Mures version has been replaced by that of J. Barnes. The new translations have all been previously published in the Clarendon Aristotle series.) In addition, the new Translation contains the tenth book of the History of Animals, and the third book of the Economics, which were not done for the original Translation; and the present selection from the fragments of Aristotles lost works includes a large number of passages which Ross did not translate. In the original Translation, the amount and scope of annotation differed greatly from one volume to the next: some treatises carried virtually no footnotes, others (notably the biological writings) contained almost as much scholarly commentary as textthe work of Ogle on the Parts of Animals or of dArcy Thompson on the History of Animals, Beares notes to On Memory or Joachims to On Indivisible Lines, were major contributions to Aristotelian scholarship. Economy has demanded that in the revised Translation annotation be kept to a minimum; and all the learned notes of the original version have been omitted. While that omission represents a considerable impoverishment, it has reduced the work to a more manageable bulk, and at the same time it has given the constituent translations a greater uniformity of character. It might be added that the revision is thus closer to Jowetts own intentions than was the original Translation. The revisions have been slight, more abundant in some treatises than in others but amounting, on the average, to some fty alterations for each Bekker page of Greek. Those alterations can be roughly classied under four heads. (i) A quantity of work has been done on the Greek text of Aristotle during the past half century: in many cases new and better texts are now available, and the reviser has from time to time emended the original Translation in the light of this research. (But he cannot claim to have made himself intimate with all the textual studies that recent scholarship has thrown up.) A standard text has been taken for each treatise, and the few departures from it, where they affect the sense, have been indicated in footnotes. On the whole, the reviser has been conservative, sometimes against his inclination. (ii) There are occasional errors or infelicities of translation in the original version: these have been corrected insofar as they have been observed. (iii) The English of the original Translation now seems in some respects archaic in its vocabulary and in its syntax: no attempt has been made to impose a consistently modern style upon the translations, but where archaic English might mislead the modern reader, it has been replaced by more current idiom.

iv

Aristotle

(iv) The fourth class of alterations accounts for the majority of changes made by the reviser. The original Translation is often paraphrastic: some of the translators used paraphrase freely and deliberately, attempting not so much to English Aristotles Greek as to explain in their own words what he was intending to conveythus translation turns by slow degrees into exegesis. Others construed their task more narrowly, but even in their more modest versions expansive paraphrase from time to time intrudes. The revision does not pretend to eliminate paraphrase altogether (sometimes paraphrase is venial; nor is there any precise boundary between translation and paraphrase); but it does endeavor, especially in the logical and philosophical parts of the corpus, to replace the more blatantly exegetical passages of the original by something a little closer to Aristotles text. The general editors of the original Translation did not require from their translators any uniformity in the rendering of technical and semitechnical terms. Indeed, the translators themselves did not always strive for uniformity within a single treatise or a single book. Such uniformity is surely desirable; but to introduce it would have been a massive task, beyond the scope of this revision. Some effort has, however, been made to remove certain of the more capricious variations of translation (especially in the more philosophical of Aristotles treatises). Nor did the original translators try to mirror in their English style the style of Aristotles Greek. For the most part, Aristotle is terse, compact, abrupt, his arguments condensed, his thought dense. For the most part, the Translation is owing and expansive, set out in well-rounded periods and expressed in a language which is usually literary and sometimes orotund. To that extent the Translation produces a false impression of what it is like to read Aristotle in the original; and indeed it is very likely to give a misleading idea of the nature of Aristotles philosophizing, making it seem more polished and nished than it actually is. In the revisers opinion, Aristotles sinewy Greek is best translated into correspondingly tough English; but to achieve that would demand a new translation, not a revision. No serious attempt has been made to alter the style of the originala style which, it should be said, is in itself elegant enough and pleasing to read. The reviser has been aided by several friends; and he would like to acknowledge in particular the help of Mr. Gavin Lawrence and Mr. Donald Russell. He remains acutely conscious of the numerous imperfections that are left. Yetas Aristotle himself would have put itthe work was laborious, and the reader must forgive the reviser for his errors and give him thanks for any improvements which he may chance to have effected. March 1981 J. B.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE TRANSLATIONS of the Categories and the de Interpretatione are reprinted here by permission of Professor J. L. Ackrill and Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1963); the translation of the Posterior Analytics is reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press ( Oxford University Press, 1975); the translation of the third book of the Economics is reprinted by permission of The Loeb Classical Library (William Heinemann and Harvard University Press); the translation of the fragments of the Protrepticus is based, with the authors generous permission, on the version by Professor Ingemar D uring.

NOTE TO THE READER

THE TRADITIONAL corpus aristotelicum contains several works which were certainly or probably not written by Aristotle. A single asterisk against the title of a work indicates that its authenticity has been seriously doubted; a pair of asterisks indicates that its spuriousness has never been seriously contested. These asterisks appear both in the Table of Contents and on the title pages of the individual works concerned. The title page of each work contains a reference to the edition of the Greek text against which the translation has been checked. References are by editors name, series or publisher (OCT stands for Oxford Classical Texts), and place and date of publication. In those places where the translation deviates from the chosen text and prefers a different reading in the Greek, a footnote marks the fact and indicates which reading is preferred; such places are rare. The numerals printed in the outer margins key the translation to Immanuel Bekkers standard edition of the Greek text of Aristotle of 1831. References consist of a page number, a column letter, and a line number. Thus 1343a marks column one of page 1343 of Bekkers edition; and the following 5, 10, 15, etc. stand against lines 5, 10, 15, etc. of that column of text. Bekker references of this type are found in most editions of Aristotles works, and they are used by all scholars who write about Aristotle.

FRAGMENTS

FRAGMENTS
Selected and translated by Jonathan Barnes and Gavin Lawrence

PREFACE
In the twelfth volume of the Oxford Translation, Sir David Ross published a selection of fragments from Aristotles lost works. Ross limited his attention to passages bearing upon Aristotles dialogues and upon his logical and philosophical writings. He presented those passages at generous length, including large amounts of context and often transcribing several variants of the same report. Like Ross, we have attempted to give a fairly full collection of the fragments of Aristotles juvenilia which have occupied much scholarly attention in the past ve decades, and also of the texts relating to the more philosophically interesting of his lost works. But we have been less generous than Ross in matters of context, repetitious variants, and dubiously valuable reports. Unlike Ross, we have paid some attention to the fragments of Aristotles other lost worksfragments which account for some two thirds of our total information about the lost writings. Here we have, for want of space, been highly selective: our aim has been to give a fair sample of the range of Aristotles intellectual concerns, as it is exhibited in the fragments, and at the same time to illustrate those parts of his work which are less well represented in the surviving treatises. We have prefaced the selection with a translation of the Catalogue of Aristotles works; and we have closed it with versions of his letters and of his poems.

FRAGMENTS: PREFACE

All the translations have been done afresh from the originals; but we have based ourselves on Rosss versions where those are available, and for the fragments of the Protrepticus we have leaned heavily on D urings translation. As for the Greek texts, we have generally taken the latest, or the standard, editions of the various authors concerned. For much of the Protrepticus we have again made use of D urings work; for On Ideas we have followed Harlngers edition of the text of Alexander. We present the passages in the order in which they occur in Roses third edition of the Fragmenta (Teubner, Leipzig, 1886). F I R3 thus refers to fragment one in this edition. The few passages not occurring there have been interpolated at the most appropriate points. We have retained Roses division of the fragments into ten categories. Roses arrangement is not ideal; but we felt that, on balance, any fresh arrangement would have caused more inconvenience than it produced enlightenment. Finally, a few words of caution. Most of the passages we print are not, in the strict sense, fragments of Aristotles lost works: most of the passages do not purport to quote Aristotles actual words. Rather, they offer paraphrases or summaries of his opinions and arguments; and in many cases they are little more than casual allusions to his views. Some of the passages we quote refer to works which were in all probability not written by Aristotle at all; several of the passages may plausibly be construed as relaxed allusions to the extant treatises rather than as close paraphrases of lost works; and in some casesand those not the least celebratedwe ourselves are not convinced that any genuinely Aristotelian matter is conserved. J.B. G.L.

Aristotle

CATALOGUE OF ARISTOTLES WRITINGS

(Diogenes Laertius, V 22-27) He wrote a vast number of books, which I have thought it appropriate to list because of the mans excellence in all elds of enquiry: On Justice, 4 books On Poets, 3 books On Philosophy, 3 books On the Statesman, 2 books On Rhetoric, or Grylus, 1 book Nerinthus, 1 book Sophist, 1 book Menexenus, 1 book Eroticus, 1 book Symposium, 1 book On Wealth, 1 book Protrepticus, 1 book On the Soul, 1 book On Prayer, 1 book On Good Birth, 1 book On Pleasure, 1 book Alexander, or On behalf of Colonies, 1 book On Kingship, 1 book On Education, 1 book On the Good, 3 books Excerpts from Platos Laws, 3 books Excerpts from Platos Republic, 2 books

FRAGMENTS: CATALOGUE OF ARISTOTLES WRITINGS Economics, 1 book On Friendship, 1 book On being affected or having been affected, 1 book On the Sciences, 2 books On Eristics, 2 books Eristical Solutions, 4 books Sophistical Divisions, 4 books On Contraries, 1 book On Genera and Species, 1 book On Properties, 1 book Notes on Arguments, 3 books Propositions on Excellence, 3 books Objections, 1 book On things spoken of in many ways or by addition, 1 book On Feelings or On Anger, 1 book Ethics, 5 books On Elements, 3 books On Knowledge, 1 book On Principles, 1 book Divisions, 16 books Division, 1 book On Question and Answer, 2 books On Motion, 2 books Propositions, 1 book Eristical Propositions, 4 books Deductions, 1 book Prior Analytics, 9 books Great Posterior Analytics, 2 books

6 On Problems, 1 book Methodics, 8 books On what is better, 1 book On the Idea, 1 book Denitions prior to the Topics, 1 book Topics, 7 books Deductions, 2 books Deduction and Denitions, 1 book On the desirable and on accidents, 1 book Pre-topics, 1 book Topics aimed at denitions, 2 books Feelings, 1 book Division, 1 book Mathematics, 1 book Denitions, 13 books Arguments, 2 books On Pleasure, 1 book Propositions, 1 book On the Voluntary, 1 book On the Noble, 1 book Argumentative theses, 25 books Theses on love, 4 books Theses on friendship, 2 books Theses on the soul, 1 book Politics, 2 books Lectures on Politics (like those of Theophrastus), 8 books On Just Acts, 2 books Collection of Arts, 2 books

Aristotle

FRAGMENTS: CATALOGUE OF ARISTOTLES WRITINGS Art of Rhetoric, 2 books Art, 1 book Art (another work), 2 books Methodics, 1 book Collection of the Art of Theodectes, 1 book Treatise on the Art of Poetry, 2 books Rhetorical Enthymemes, 1 book On Magnitude, 1 book Divisions of Enthymemes, 1 book On Diction, 2 books On Advice, 1 book Collection, 2 books On Nature, 3 books Nature 1 book On the Philosophy of Archytas, 3 books On the Philosophy of Speusippus and Xenocrates, 1 book Excerpts from the Timaeus and from the works of Archytas, 1 book Against Melissus, 1 book Against Alcmaeon, 1 book Against the Pythagoreans, 1 book Against Gorgias, 1 book Against Xenophanes, 1 book Against Zeno, 1 book On the Pythagoreans, 1 book On Animals, 9 books Dissections, 8 books Selection of Dissections, 1 book On Composite Animals, 1 book

8 On Mythological Animals, 1 book On Sterility, 1 book On Plants, 2 books Physiognomonics, 1 book Medicine, 2 books On Units, 1 book Storm Signs, 1 book Astronomy, 1 book Optics, 1 book On Motion, 1 book On Music, 1 book Memory, 1 book Homeric Problems, 6 books Poetics, 1 book Physics (alphabetically ordered), 38 books Additional Problems,2 2 books Standard Problems, 2 books Mechanics, 1 book Problems from Democritus, 2 books On the Magnet, 1 book Conjunctions of Stars, 1 book Miscellaneous, 12 books Explanations3 (arranged by subject), 14 books Claims, 1 book Olympic Victors, 1 book Pythian Victors in Music,4 1 book
2 3

Aristotle

Reading epitetheimenon. Text uncertain. 4 Reading Pythionikai mousikes a.

FRAGMENTS: CATALOGUE OF ARISTOTLES WRITINGS On Pytho, 1 book Lists of Pythian Victors, 1 book Victories at the Dionysia, 1 book On Tragedies, 1 book Didascaliae, 1 book Proverbs, 1 book Rules for Messing, 1 book Laws, 4 books Categories, 1 book On Interpretation, 1 book

Constitutions of 158 States (arranged by type: democratic, oligarchical, tyrannical, aristocratic) Letters to Philip Letters about the Selymbrians5 Letters to Alexander (4), to Antipater (9), to Mentor (1), to Ariston (1), to Olympias (1), to Hephaestion (1), to Themistagoras (1), to Philoxenus (1), to Democritus (1) Poems, beginning: Holy one, most honoured of the gods, far-shooting . . . Elegies, beginning: Daughter of a mother of fair children . . . Appendix: (A) Titles found in the Vita Menagiana but not in Diogenes: Peplos Hesiodic Problems,6 1 book Metaphysics, 10 books Cycle on Poets, 3 books Sophistical Refutations or On Eristics Prior Analytics, 2 books Messing Problems, 3 books On Blessedness, or Why did Homer invent the cattle of the sun?
5 6

Reading peri Selymbrianon. Reading Hesiodeion for theion.

10 Problems from Archilochus, Euripides, Choerilus, 3 books Poetical Problems, 1 book Poetical Explanations Lectures on Physics, 16 books On Generation and Destruction, 2 books Meteorologica, 4 books On the Soul, 3 books History of Animals, 10 books Movement of Animals, 3 books Parts of Animals, 3 books Generation of Animals, 3 books On the Rising of the Nile On Substance in Mathematics On Reputation On Voice On the Common Life of Husband and Wife Laws for Man and Wife On Time On Vision, 2 books Nicomachean Ethics Art of Eulogy On Marvellous Things heard Eulogies or Hymns On Differentia On the Nature of Man On the Generation of the World Customs of the Romans Collection of Foreign Customs

Aristotle

FRAGMENTS: CATALOGUE OF ARISTOTLES WRITINGS (B) Titles in the Life of Ptolemy but neither in Diogenes nor in the Vita Menagiana: On Indivisible Lines, 3 books On Spirit, 3 books On Hibernation, 1 book Magna Moralia, 2 books On the Heavens and the Universe, 4 books On Sense and Sensibilia, 1 book On Memory and Sleep, 1 book On Length and Shortness of Life, 1 book Problems of Matter, 1 book Platonic Divisions, 6 books Divisions of Hypotheses, 6 books Precepts, 4 books On Regimen, 1 book Farming, 15 books On the Moist, 1 book On the Dry, 1 book On Relatives, 1 book

11

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I DIALOGUES F 1-111 R3
(Cicero, ad Atticum IV xvi 2): . . . since I am having a preface in each book, as Aristotle does in the books he calls exoteric . . . (Cicero, ad Atticum XIII xix 4): In what I have written recently, I have followed the Aristotelian custom, according to which the conversation of the others is so arranged that the writer himself has the chief part. (Plutarch, adversus Colotem 1115BC): As for the Ideas, over which he upbraids Plato, Aristotle attacks them everywhere and introduces all the puzzles about themin his ethical works, in his metaphysics, in his physics, in his exoteric dialogues: to some he seemed more ambitious than philosophical . . .7 these doctrines, as though proposing to subvert Platos philosophy; so far was he from following Plato. (Numenius, apud Eusebius, Praeparatio Evangelica XIV vi 9-10): Cephisodorus, when he saw his master Isocrates being attacked by Aristotle, was ignorant of and unversed in Aristotle himself; but, seeing the repute which Platos views enjoyed, he thought that Aristotle was following Plato. So he waged war on Aristotle, but was really attacking Plato. His criticism began with the Ideas and nished with the other doctrinesthings which he himself did not know; he was only guessing at the meaning of the opinions held about them. This Cephisodorus was not attacking the person he was at war with, but was attacking the person he did not wish to make war upon. (Asclepius, Commentarius in Metaphysica 112.16-19): About these rst principles, he [sc. Aristotle] says, we have already spoken in the Physics; and he promises to speak about these in Book a [sc. of the Metaphysics], and to raise and solve the puzzles about them in the work On Philosophy. F 1 R3 (Plutarch, adversus Colotem 1118C): Of the inscriptions at Delphi that which was thought to be the most divine was Know Thyself; it was this, as Aristotle has said in his Platonic works, that started Socrates off puzzling and inquiring.
7

Pohlenz marks a lacuna.

FRAGMENTS: I: DIALOGUES

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F 2 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, II 23): Aristotle says that he [sc. Socrates] went to Delphi. F 3 R3 (Porphyry apud Stobaeus, Anthologium III xxi 26): What and whose was the sacred injunction at Delphi, which bids him who is to seek anything from the god to know himself? . . . or was it even before the time of Chilon already inscribed in the temple that was founded after the one of feathers and bronze, as Aristotle has said in his work On Philosophy? F 4 R3 (Clement, Stromateis I xiv 61.2): Aristotle and his followers think that it [sc. Give a pledge and youre ruined] comes from Chilon. F 5 R3 (Etymologicon Magnum s.v. sophistes): Aristotle calls the Seven Sages sophists. F 6 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, 18): Aristotle in the rst book of On Philosophy says that they [sc. the Magi] are more ancient than the Egyptians, and that according to them there are two rst principles, a good spirit and an evil spirit, one called Zeus and Oromasdes, the other Hades and Arimanius. F 7 R3 (Philoponus, Commentarius in de Anima 186. 24-26): Aristotle says so-called . . . because the poems are thought not to be the work of Orpheus, as he himself says in the books On Philosophy: the opinions are those of Orpheus, but they say that Onomacritus set them to verse. F 7 R3 (Cicero, de natura deorum I xxxviii 107): Aristotle says the poet Orpheus never existed; the Pythagoreans ascribe this Orphic poem to a certain Cercon. (Sextus Empiricus, adversus mathematicos X 46): Its existence [i.e. the existence of motion] is denied by Parmenides and Melissus, whom Aristotle has called immobilists8 and unnaturalistsimmobilists because they maintain the immobility of things, unnaturalists because nature is a source of motion and in saying that nothing moves they abolished nature. F 8 R3 (Proclus, apud Philoponus, de aeternitate mundi II 2): . . . and in his dialogues, where he [sc. Aristotle] announces most clearly that he cannot agree with this doctrine [sc. the Theory of Ideas], even if he should be thought to be opposing it from ambition. F 9 R3 (Syrianus, Commentarius in Metaphysica 159.35-160.3): This is shown by what he [sc. Aristotle] says in the second book of the work On Philosophy: Thus if the Ideas are a different sort of number, not mathematical
8

Omitting tes physeos.

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number, we can have no understanding of it; for of the majority of us, at all events, who understands any other number? (Alexander, Commentarius in Metaphysica 117.23-118.1): Aristotle sets out their view, which he has also stated in the work On Philosophy. Wishing to refer the things that exist (he always calls the things that exist substances) to the rst principles which they assumed (for them the rst principles of existing things were the great and the small, which they called the indefinite dyad)wishing to refer everything to this, they said that the rst principles of length were the short and the long (on the grounds that length takes its origin from a long and short, i.e. a great and small, or that every line falls under one or other of these), and that the rst principles of the plane were the narrow and wide, which are themselves also great and small. (Simplicius, Commentarius in de Anima 28.7-9): Aristotle now [sc. in the de Anima] applies the name On Philosophy to his work On the Good (taken down from Platos seminar), in which he relates both the Pythagorean and the Platonic opinions about what exists. ([Alexander], Commentarius in Metaphysica 777.16-21): The principle of the One, he [sc. Aristotle] says, they did not all introduce in the same way. Some said that the numbers themselves introduced the Forms into magnitudes, e.g. the number 2 doing so for line, the number 3 for plane, the number 4 for solid (Aristotle relates this about Plato in the work On Philosophy, and that is why he here [sc. in the Metaphysics] expounds their theory only briey and concisely); while others explained the form of the magnitudes by participation in the One. F 10 R3 (Sextus Empiricus, adversus mathematicos IX 20-23): Aristotle used to say that mens concept of god sprang from two sourcesthe experiences of the soul and the phenomena of the heavens. From the experiences of the soul, because of its inspiration and prophetic power in dreams. For, he says, when the soul gets by itself in sleep, it then assumes its nature and foresees and foretells the future. The soul is also in such a condition when it is severed from the body at death. At all events, he accepts even Homer as having observed this; for he has represented Patroclus, in the moment of his death, as foretelling the death of Hector, and Hector as foretelling the end of Achilles. It was from such events, he says, that men came to suspect the existence of something divine, of something in itself akin to the soul and of all things most knowledgeable. And from the heavenly bodies too: seeing by day the revolution of the sun and by night the well-ordered movement of the other stars, they came to think that there was a god who is the cause of such movement and order.

FRAGMENTS: I: DIALOGUES

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F 12 R3 (Cicero, de natura deorum II xxxvii 95): Thus Aristotle brilliantly remarks: Suppose there were men who had always lived underground, in good and well-lighted dwellings, adorned with statues and pictures, and furnished with everything in which those who are thought happy abound. Suppose, however, that they had never gone above ground, but had learned by report and hearsay that there was a divine spirit and power. Suppose that then, at some time, the jaws of the earth opened, and they were able to escape and make their way from those hidden dwellings into these regions which we inhabit. When they suddenly saw earth and seas and skies, when they learned the grandeur of clouds and the power of winds, when they saw the sun and realized not only its grandeur and beauty but also its power, by which it lls the sky with light and makes the day; when, again, night darkened the lands and they saw the whole sky picked out and adorned with stars, and the varying light of the moon as it waxes and wanes, and the risings and settings of all these bodies, and their courses settled and immutable to all eternity; when they saw those things, most certainly would they have judged both that there are gods and that these great works are the works of gods. Thus far Aristotle. F 14 R3 (Seneca, quaestiones naturales VII xxx 1): Aristotle excellently says that we should nowhere be more modest than in discussions about the gods. If we compose ourselves before we enter temples, . . . how much more should we do so when we discuss the constellations, the stars, and the nature of the gods, lest from temerity or impudence we should make ignorant assertions or knowingly tell lies. F 15 R3 (Synesius, Dio 48A): . . . as Aristotle claims that those who are being initiated are not to learn anything but to experience something and be put into a certain condition . . . F 16 R3 (Alexander, apud Simplicius, Commentarius in de Caelo 289.115): He [sc. Aristotle] speaks of this in his On Philosophy. In general, where there is a better there is also a best. Since, then, among existing things one is better than another, there is also something that is best, which will be the divine. Now that which changes is changed either by something else or by itself, and if by something else, either by something better or by something worse, and if by itself, either to something worse or through desire for something nobler. But the divine has nothing better than itself by which it will be changed (for that other thing would then have been more divine), nor is it right for the better to be affected by the worse; besides, if it were changed by something worse, it would have admitted something bad into itselfand nothing in it is bad. Nor yet does it change itself

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through desire for something nobler, since it lacks none of its own nobilities; nor yet does it change itself for the worse, since not even a man willingly makes himself worse, nor does it possess anything bad such as it would have acquired from a change to the worse. This proof too Aristotle took over from the second book of Platos Republic. F 17 R3 (Scholia in Proverbia Salomonis, cod. Paris gr. 174, fol. 46a): Aristotle: There is either one rst principle or many. If there is one, we have what we are looking for; if there are many, they are either ordered or disordered. Now if they are disordered, their products are more so, and the world is not a world but a chaos; and that which is contrary to nature exists while that which is in accordance with nature does not exist. If on the other hand they are ordered, they were ordered either by themselves or by some outside cause. But if they were ordered by themselves, they have something common that joins them, and that is the rst principle. F 18 R3 (Philo, de aeternitate mundi III 10-11): Aristotle was surely speaking piously and devoutly when he objected that the world is ungenerated and imperishable, and convicted of grave ungodliness those who maintained the opposite and thought that the great visible god, which contains in truth sun and moon and the remaining pantheon of planets and xed stars is no different from an artefact; he used to say in mockery (we are told) that in the past he had been afraid for his house lest it be destroyed by violent winds or by erce storms or by time or by lack of proper maintenance, but that now a greater fear hung over him, from those who by an argument were destroying the whole world. F 19 R3 (Philo, de aeternitate mundi V 20-24): The arguments which prove the world to be ungenerated and imperishable should, out of respect for the visible god, be given their proper precedence and placed earlier in the discussion. All things that admit of being destroyed are subject to two causes of destruction, one inward, the other outward. Iron, bronze and such-like substances you will nd being destroyed from themselves, when rust invades and devours them like a creeping disease, and from without when a house or city is set on re and they catch re from it and are destroyed by the erce rush of ame; and similarly death comes to living beings from themselves when they fall sick, and from outside when they have their throats cut or are stoned or burned to death or suffer the unclean death by hanging. Thus if the world, too, is destroyed, it must be either by something outside or by one of the powers in itself. Now each of these is impossible. For there is nothing outside the world, since all things have contributed to its completeness. For so will it be one, whole, and ageless: one, because if some things had been left out another world like the present world would

FRAGMENTS: I: DIALOGUES

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come into being; whole, because all substance has been expended on it; ageless and diseaseless, because bodies caught by disease and old age are destroyed by the violent assault from without of heat and cold and the other contrary forces, none of which powers can escape and circle round and attack the world, since all without exception are entirely enclosed within it. If then there is anything outside, it must be a complete void or an impassive nature which cannot suffer or do anything. Nor again will the world be destroyed by anything within itrst, because the part would then be both greater and more powerful than the whole, which is most absurd; for the world, wielding unsurpassable power, directs all its parts and is directed by none; secondly, because, there being two causes of destruction, one within and one without, things that can suffer the one are susceptible also to the other. Oxen and horses and men and such-like animals, because they can be destroyed by iron, will also perish by disease. For it is hard, or rather impossible, to nd anything that is naturally subject to the external cause of destruction and entirely insusceptible to the internal. Since, then, it was shown that the world will not be destroyed by anything without, because absolutely nothing has been left outside, neither will it be destroyed by anything within, because of the preceding demonstration to the effect that that which is susceptible to the one cause is also by nature susceptible to the other. F 20 R3 (Philo, de aeternitate mundi VI 28-VII 34): This may be put in another way. Of composite bodies all that are destroyed are dissolved into their components; dissolution is then nothing but return to the natural state of each thing, so that conversely composition has forced into an unnatural state the parts that have come together. And indeed it seems to be so beyond a doubt. For we men were put together by borrowing little parts of the four elements, which belong in their entirety to the whole universeearth, water, air and re. Now these parts when mixed are robbed of their natural position, the upward-travelling heat being forced down, the earthy and heavy substance being made light and seizing in turn the upper region, which is occupied by the earthiest of our parts, the head. The worst of bonds is that which is fastened by violence; this is brief and shortlived, for it is broken sooner by the things bound, because they shake it off through longing for their natural movement, to which they hasten to return. For, as the tragic poet says, Things born of earth return to earth, things born of an ethereal seed return to the pole of heaven again; nothing that comes into being dies; one departs in one direction, one in another, and each shows its own form.9 For all things that perish, then, this is the law and this is the rule
9

Euripides, frag. 836 Nauck.

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prescribedwhen the parts that have come together in the mixture have settled down they must in place of their natural order have accepted disorder, and must move to the opposite places, so that they seem to be in a sense exiles; but when they are separated they turn back to their natural lot. Now the world has no part in the disorder which is found in the things we have spoken of. For let us consider: if the world is perishing, its parts must now each have been arranged in a region unnatural to it. But this it is not right to suppose; for to all the parts of the world have fallen perfect position and harmonious arrangement, so that each, as though fond of its own country, seeks no change to a better. For this reason, then, earth was assigned the midmost position, to which all earthy things, even if you throw them up, descend. This is an indication of their natural place; for that region in which a thing brought thither stays and rests, when under no compulsion, is its allotted home. Water is spread over the earth, and air and re have moved from the middle to the upper region, to air falling the region between water and re, and to re the highest region of all. And so, even if you light a torch and throw it to the ground, the ame will none the less strive against you and lighten itself and return to the natural motion of re. If, then, the cause of destruction of other creatures is their unnatural situation, but in the world each of its parts is arranged according to nature and has its proper place assigned to it, the world may justly be called imperishable. F 21 R3 (Philo, de aeternitate mundi VIII 39-43): The most demonstrative argument is that on which I know countless people to pride themselves, as on something most precise and quite irrefutable. They ask why god should destroy the world. Either to save himself from continuing in world-making, or in order to make another world. The former of these purposes is alien to god; for what bets him is to turn disorder into order, not order into disorder; and further, he would be admitting a change of mind, and hence an affection and disease of the soul. For he should either not have made a world at all, or else, if he judged the work becoming to him, should have rejoiced in the product. The second alternative deserves full examination. For if in place of the present world he is to make another, the world he makes is bound to be either worse or like or better, and each of these possibilities is open to objection. If it is worse, its articer too will be worse; but the works of god are blameless, free from criticism and incapable of improvement, fashioned as they are by the most perfect art and knowledge. For, as the saying goes, not even a woman is so lacking in good judgement as to prefer the worse when the better is available; and it is tting for god to give shape to the shapeless and to deck the ugliest things with marvellous beauties. If the new world is like the old, its articer will have

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laboured in vain, differing in nothing from silly children, who often when playing on the beach make great piles of sand and then undermine them with their hands and pull them down again. Much better than making a similar world would be neither to take away nor to add anything, nor change anything for better or for worse, but to leave the original world in its place. If he is to make a better world, the articer himself must become better, so that when he made the former world he must have been more imperfect both in art and in wisdomwhich it is not right even to suspect. For god is equal and like to himself, admitting neither slackening towards the worse nor tautening towards the better. F 22 R3 (Cicero, Academica II xxxviii 119): When your Stoic sage has said all these things to you syllable by syllable, Aristotle will come, pouring out his golden ow, to say that the Stoic is talking nonsense; he will say that the world was never generated, because there was never a beginning based on a new plan for such a brilliant work, and that it is so well designed in every part that no force can effect such great movements and so great a change, and no old age can come upon the world by lapse of time, so that this splendid world should ever fall to pieces and perish. F 23 R3 (Cicero, de natura deorum II xv 42): Since some living things have their origin in earth, others in water, others in air, Aristotle thinks that it is absurd to suppose that in that part which is ttest to generate living things no animal should be born. Now the stars occupy the ethereal region; and since that region is the most rare and is always in movement and activity, any animal born in it must have the keenest perception and the swiftest movement. Thus since it is in ether that the stars are born, it is proper that in these there should be perception and intelligence. From which it follows that the stars should be reckoned among the gods. F 24 R3 (Cicero, de natura deorum II xvi 44): Aristotle is to be praised, too, for judging that all things that move do so either by nature or by force or voluntarily, and that the sun and moon and all the stars are in movement, and that things that move by nature are carried either downwards by their weight or upwards by their lightness, neither of which happens to the stars, because their movement is in an orbit or circle. Nor again can it be said that some greater force makes the stars move contrary to nature; for what force can be greater? What remains, then, is that the movement of the stars is voluntary. F 25 R3 (Censorinus, de die natali XVIII 11): There is, further, the year which Aristotle calls greatest (rather than great), which the spheres of the sun, the moon and the ve wandering stars complete when they return together to the same point where once they were all together;

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the winter of such a year is a great cataclysm or ood, the summer an ecpyrosis or conagration of the world; for at these alternate periods the world seems now to be consumed in re, now to be covered in water. F 26 R3 (Cicero, de natura deorum I xiii 33): Aristotle, in the third book of his On Philosophy, creates much confusion by dissenting from his master Plato. For now he ascribes all divinity to mind, now he says that the world itself is a god, now he sets another god over the world and ascribes to him the part of ruling and preserving the movement of the world by a sort of backward rotation. Then he says that the heat of the heavens is a god, not realising that the heavens are a part of the world, which he has himself elsewhere called a god. (Cicero, Academica I vii 26): The fth kind, from which are made stars and minds, Aristotle thought to be something distinct, and unlike the four I have mentioned above. (Cicero, Tusculanae disputationes I x 22): Aristotle, who far exceeded all othersPlato I always exceptboth in intellect and in industry, after taking account of the four well-known kinds of rst principles from which all things were derived, considers that there is a fth kind of thing, from which comes mind; for thought, foresight, learning, teaching, discovery, remembering many things, love and hate, desire and fear, distress and joy, these and their like he thinks cannot be included in any of those four kinds; he adds a fth kind, which lacks a name, and so he calls the mind itself by a new name, endelecheia, as being a sort of continuous and endless movement. (Aristoxenus, Elementa harmonica II 30-31): This, as Aristotle was always saying, was the experience of most of those who heard Platos lecture On the Good. Each of them attended on the assumption that he would hear about one of the recognised human goodssuch as wealth, health, strength, and in general some marvellous happiness. When Platos lectures turned out to be about mathematicsnumbers, geometry, astronomyand to crown all about the thesis that the good10 is one, it seemed to them, I fancy, something quite paradoxical; and so some people despised the whole thing, while others criticised it. (Philoponus, Commentarius in de Anima 75.34-76.1): By the books On Philosophy Aristotle means the work entitled On the Good; in this Aristotle reports Platos unwritten seminars; the work is genuine. He relates there the view of Plato and the Pythagoreans about what exists and about rst
10

Reading tagathon.

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principles. F 27 R3 (Vita Aristotelis Latina 33): In the work On the Good he says: Not only he who is in luck but also he who offers a proof should remember he is a man. F 28 R3 (Alexander, Commentarius in Metaphysica 55.20-56.35): Both Plato and the Pythagoreans assumed numbers to be the rst principles of existing things, because they thought that that which is primary and incomposite is a rst principle, and that planes are prior to bodies (for that which is simpler and not destroyed along with something else is primary by nature), and on the same principle lines are prior to planes, and points (which the mathematicians call s emeia but they called units) to lines, being completely incomposite and having nothing prior to them; but units are numbers; therefore numbers are the rst of existing things. And since Forms or Ideas are prior to the things which according to him have their being in relation to them and derive their being from them (the existence of these he tried in several ways to establish), he said that the Forms are numbers. For if that which is one in kind is prior to the things that exist in relation to it, and nothing is prior to number, the Forms are numbers. This is why he also said that the rst principles of number are rst principles of the Forms, and the One is the rst principle of all things. Again, the Forms are the rst principles of all other things, and the rst principles of number are rst principles of Ideas since they are numbers; and he used to say that the rst principles of number are the unit and the dyad. For, since there are in numbers both the One and that which is other than the One (i.e. the many and the few), he assumed that the rst thing there is in number, apart from the One, is the rst principle both of the many and of the few. Now the dyad is the rst thing apart from the One, having in itself both manyness and fewness; for the double is many and the half is few, and these are in the dyad; and the dyad is contrary to the One, since the latter is indivisible and the former is divided. Again, thinking to prove that the equal and the unequal are rst principles of all things, both of things that exist in their own right and of opposites (for he tried to refer all things to these as their simplest elements), he assigned equality to the monad, and inequality to excess and defect; for inequality involves two things, a great and a small, which are excessive and defective. This is why he called it an indenite dyadbecause neither the excessive nor the exceeded is, as such, denite; they are indenite and unlimited. But when limited by the One the indenite dyad, he says, becomes the numerical dyad; for this kind of dyad is one in form. Again, the dyad is the rst number; its rst principles are the excessive and

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the exceeded, since it is in the dyad that the double and the half are rst found; for while the double and the half are excessive and exceeded, the excessive and the exceeded are not thereby double and half; so that these are elements of the double. And since the excessive and the exceeded when they have been limited become double and half (for these are no longer indenite, nor is the treble and third, or the quadruple and quarter, or anything else that already has its excess limited), and this is effected by the nature of the One (for each thing is one in so far as it is a this and is limited), the One and the great and the small must be elements in the numerical dyad. But the dyad is the rst number. These then are the elements in the dyad. It is for some such reasons that Plato used to treat the One and the dyad as the rst principles both of numbers and of all existing things, as Aristotle says in his work On the Good. F 28 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in Physica 151.6-11): Alexander says that according to Plato the rst principles of all things, and of the Ideas themselves, are the One and the indenite dyad, which he used to call great and small, as Aristotle relates in his work On the Good. One might gather this also from Speusippus and Xenocrates and the others who were present at Platos lecture on the Good; for they all wrote down and preserved his doctrine, and they say he used these as rst principles. F 28 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in Physica 453.25-30): They say that Plato maintained that the One and the indenite dyad were the rst principles of sensible things as well. He placed the indenite dyad also among the objects of thought and said it was unlimited, and he made the great and the small rst principles and said they were unlimited, in his lectures on the Good; Aristotle, Heraclides, Hestiaeus, and other associates of Plato attended these and wrote them down in the enigmatic style in which they were delivered. F 29 R3 (Sextus Empiricus, adversus mathematicos III 57-58): But Aristotle says . . . that the length without breadth of which they [sc. the geometers] speak is not inconceivable, but that we can without any difculty arrive at the thought of it. He rests his argument on a rather clear and illuminating example: we grasp the length of a wall, he says, without considering also its breadth, so that it must be possible to conceive of the length without any particular breadth of which the geometers speakfor the phenomena are our way of seeing what is non-evident. F 30 R3 (Alexander, Commentarius in Metaphysica 59.28-60.2): One might ask how it is that, though Plato mentions both an efcient cause . . . and also that for the sake of which and the end . . ., Aristotle mentions neither of these causes in his account of Platos doctrines. Is it because he mentioned

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neither of them in what he said about causes (as he has shown in On the Good), or because he does not treat these as causes of things that come into being and perish, and did not even work out any theory about them? F 31 R3 (Alexander, Commentarius in Metaphysica 250.17-20): For the proof that practically all contraries are referred to the One and plurality as their rst principle, Aristotle sends us to the Selection of Contraries, where he has treated expressly of the subject. He has also spoken about this selection in the second book On the Good. F 34 R3 (Pliny, naturalis historia XXX ii 3): Eudoxus related that this Zoroaster lived six thousand years before the death of Plato; Aristotle agrees. F 37 R3 (Cicero, de divinatione I xxv 53): What, is the singular, the almost divine, intellect of Aristotle in error, or does he wish others to fall into error, when he writes that his friend Eudemus of Cyprus while on a journey to Macedonia came to Pherae, a Thessalian town of considerable note at that time, but held in cruel subjection by the tyrant Alexander? Now in that town, he says, Eudemus fell so ill that all the doctors feared for his life. He dreamed that a handsome young man told him that he would soon recover, that in a few days the tyrant Alexander would die, and that ve years later Eudemus himself would return home. And indeed, Aristotle writes, the rst two predictions were fullled forthwith: Eudemus recovered and the tyrant was killed by his wifes brothers. But towards the end of the fth year, when the dream had led him to hope that he would return from Sicily to Cyprus, he died in battle at Syracuse. And so the dream was interpreted as meaning that when Eudemus soul had left his body it had returned to its home. (al-Kindi, cod. Taimuriyye Falsafa 55): Aristotle tells of the Greek king whose soul was caught up in ecstasy, and who for many days remained neither alive nor dead. When he came to himself, he told the bystanders of various things in the invisible world, and related what he had seensouls, forms, and angels; he gave the proofs of this by foretelling to all his acquaintances how long each of them would live. All he had said was put to the proof, and no-one exceeded the span of life that he had assigned. He prophesied too that after a year a chasm would open in the country of Elis, and after two years a ood would occur in another place; and everything happened as he had said. Aristotle asserts that the reason for this was that his soul had acquired this knowledge just because it had been near to leaving his body and had been in a certain way separated from it, and so had seen what it had seen. How much greater marvels of the upper world of the kingdom would it have seen, then, if it

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had really left his body. F 38 R3 (Themistius, Commentarius in de Anima 106.29-107.4): Almost all the weightiest arguments that he [sc. Plato] used about the immortality of the soul make reference to the intellect. . . . as is also the case with the more convincing of those worked out by Aristotle himself in the Eudemus. F 39 R3 (Elias, Commentarius in Categorias 114.25-115.3): Aristotle establishes the immortality of the soul in his acroamatic works as well, and there he establishes it by compelling arguments; but in the dialogues he naturally uses plausible arguments. . . . In his dialogues he says that the soul is immortal because all we men instinctively make libations to the departed and swear by them, but no-one ever makes a libation to or swears by that which is completely non-existent . . . [115.11-12]. It is chiey in his dialogues that Aristotle seems to announce the immortality of the soul. F 40 R3 (Proclus, Commentarius in Timaeum 323.31-324.4): Aristotle in emulation of him [sc. Plato] treats scientically of the soul in the de Anima, saying nothing either about its descent or about its fortunes; but in his dialogues he dealt separately with those matters and set down the preliminary discussion. F 41 R3 (Proclus, Commentarius in Rem Publicam II 349.13-26): The excellent Aristotle also gives the reason why the soul on coming hither from there forgets the sights it saw there, but on going hence remembers there its experiences here. We must accept the argument; for he himself says that on their journey from health to disease some people forget even the letters they have learned, but that no-one ever has this experience when passing from disease to health; and that life without the body, being natural to souls, is like health, and life in the body, as being unnatural, is like disease. For there they live according to nature, but here contrary to nature; so that it not unreasonably results that souls that pass thence forget the things there, while souls that pass hence thither continue to remember the things here. F 42 R3 (Damascius, Commentarius in Phaedonem 530): That there must actually be a whole race of men which is nourished in this way is shown by the case of the man who was nourished by the suns rays alone, as recorded by Aristotle from his own observation. F 43 R3 (Plutarch, quaestiones convivales 733C): Aristotle has related how in Cilicia Timons grandmother used to hibernate for two months each year, showing no sign of life apart from breathing. F 44 R3 ([Plutarch], Consolatio ad Apollonium 115BE):

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Many wise men, as Crantor says, not of today but of long ago, have wept for the human lot, thinking life to be a punishment and birth the beginning of the greatest disaster for a man. Aristotle says that Silenus stated this opinion to Midas after he had been capturedbut let me set down the philosophers actual words; he says this in the work entitled Eudemus or On the Soul: For that reason, best and most blessed of all men, in addition to thinking that the dead are blessed and happy, we hold it impious to speak any falsehood about them or to slander them, since they have now become better and greater. And these customs are so ancient and long-established among us that no one at all knows when they began or who rst established them, but they have been continuously acknowledged for an indenite age. In addition to that, you observe the saying which has been on mens lips for many years. What is that?, he said. He said in reply: That not to be born is best of all, and to be dead better than to be alive. Heaven has given this testimony to many men. They say that when Midas had caught Silenus he interrogated him after the hunt and asked him what was the best thing for men and what the most desirable of all. Silenus at rst would not say anything but maintained an unbroken silence; but when, after using every device, Midas with difculty induced him to address him, he said under compulsion: Shortlived seed of a toiling spirit and a harsh fortune, why do you force me to say what is better for you not to know? For a life lived in ignorance of its own ills is most painless. It is quite impossible for the best thing of all to befall men, nor can they share in the nature of what is better. For it is best, for all men and women, not to be born; and second after thatthe rst of things open to menis, once born, to die as quickly as possible. It is clear that he meant that time spent dead is better than time spent alive. F 45 R3 (Philoponus, Commentarius in de Anima 141.33-142.6, 144.21145.7): Some . . . thought that the soul was an attunement of the body, and that the different kinds of soul answered to the different attunements of the body. This opinion Aristotle states and refutes. In the present work [i.e. the de Anima] he rst merely records the opinion itself, but a little later on he also sets out the arguments that led them to it. He had already opposed this opinion elsewhereI mean, in the dialogue Eudemusand before him Plato in the Phaedo had used ve arguments against the view. . . .

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These are Platos ve arguments. Aristotle himself, as I have said, has used the two following arguments in the dialogue Eudemus. One goes thus: Attunement, he says, has a contrary, lack of attunement; but the soul has no contrary. Therefore the soul is not an attunement. . . . Secondly: The contrary of the attunement of the body is the lack of attunement of the body; and the lack of attunement of the living body is disease, weakness, and uglinessof these, disease is lack of attunement of the elements, weakness lack of attunement of the uniform parts, ugliness lack of attunement of the instrumental parts. Now if lack of attunement is disease, weakness, and ugliness, then attunement is health, strength and beauty; but soul is none of theseI mean, neither health nor strength nor beauty; for even Thersites, the ugliest of men, had a soul. Therefore the soul is not an attunement. F 45 R3 (Damascius, Commentarius in Phaedonem 383): Aristotle in the Eudemus argues as follows: Lack of attunement is contrary to attunement; but soul has no contraryfor it is a substance. And the conclusion is obvious. Again, if the lack of attunement of the elements of an animal is disease, their attunement must be health, not soul. F 46 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in de Anima 221.28-30): And because of this he [sc. Aristotle] says in the Eudemus, his dialogue on the soul, that the soul is a sort of form. . . F 47 R3 ([Plutarch], de musica 1139B): On the theme that harmony is something noble, divine and grand, Aristotle, the pupil of Plato, says: Harmony is heavenly, by nature divine, beautiful and inspired; having by nature four parts potentially, it has two means, the arithmetical and the harmonic, and the parts of it, their extents, and their excesses one over another, have numerical and proportionate relations; for tunes are arranged in two tetrachords. F 48 R3 (Olympiodorus, Commentarius in Phaedonem 9): Proclus would have heavenly bodies possess only sight and hearing, as Aristotle also would; for of the senses they have only those which contribute to wellbeing, not those that contribute to being, which is what the other senses do. The poet testies to this, saying, Sun, who seest and hearest all thingswhich implies that the heavenly bodies have only sight and hearing. Also because these senses, most of all, have knowledge by way of activity rather than of passivity, and are tter for the unchanging heavenly bodies. F 49 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in de Caelo 485.19-22): That Aristotle has the notion of something above mind and substance is shown by his saying clearly at the end of his book On Prayer that god is either mind or something even beyond mind.

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F 50 R3 (Stobaeus, Anthologium IV xxxii 21): Zeno said that Crates, while sitting in a cobblers workshop, read [B1]11 Aristotles Protrepticus which he wrote to Themison, king of Cyprus, saying that noone had more goods than he for devoting himself to philosophy; for he had great wealth, so that he could spend money on this, and a good reputation as well. F 57 R3 (Oxyrrhynchus Papyrus 666; cf. Stobaeus, Anthologium III iii 25): [B2] . . . prevents them from choosing and doing what they should; hence, contemplating the misfortune of these men, we ought to avoid it and believe that happiness consists not in the acquisition of much property but rather in the manner of the disposition of the soul. For one would not say that it is a body adorned with splendid clothing that is blessed, but one which is healthy and has a good disposition, even if it has none of the things just mentioned; in the same way, if the soul is educated, such a soul and such a man must be called happy, not the man splendidly adorned with external goods but himself worthless. It is not the horse that has a golden curb-chain and costly harness but whose nature is bad that we think worth anything; rather we praise the one that has a good disposition. [B 3] Besides, when worthless men get abundant possessions, they come to value these even more than the goods of the soul; and this is the basest of all conditions. For just as a man would be a laughing-stock if he were inferior to his own servants, so too those for whom possessions are more important than their own nature must be considered miserable. [B 4] This is indeed so: surfeit, as the proverb says, breeds insolence; lack of education combined with power breeds folly. For those who are ill-disposed in soul neither wealth nor strength nor beauty is good; the more lavishly one is endowed with these conditions, the more grievously and the more often they hurt him who possesses them but lacks understanding.12 The saying No knife for a child means Do not give bad men power. [B 5] But all men would agree that understanding comes from learning and from seeking the things that philosophy enables us to seek; surely, then, we should pursue philosophy unhesitatingly and. . . F 51 R3 (Alexander, Commentarius in Topica 149.11-15): E.g. if someone were to say that one should not philosophize, then, since [B 6] to philosophize is both to inquire into the very question whether one should philosophize or not, as he [sc. Aristotle] himself said in the Protrepticus, and also to pursue philosophical contemplation, by showing that each of them is proper for
These signs refer to the fragments in D urings edition. Understanding and its cognates here, and throughout the Protrepticus fragments, translate phronesis and its cognates.
12 11

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a man we shall wholly refute the view stated. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 37.13-22 Pistelli): [B 9] Again, some kinds of knowledge produce the good things in life, others use the rst kind; some are ancillary, others prescriptive; and in these last, as being more authoritative, rests the true good. If, then, only that kind of knowledge which involves correctness of judgment and uses reason and contemplates the good as a wholethat is to say, philosophycan use all other kinds of knowledge and prescribe to them according to nature, we ought in every way to philosophize, since philosophy alone comprises right judgment and an infallible prescriptive understanding. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 49.3-51.6 Pistelli): [B 11] Of things that come into being some come from some kind of thought or art, e.g. a house or a ship (for the cause of both of these is a certain art and process of thought), while others come into being through no art but by nature; for nature is the cause of animals and plants, and all such things come into being according to nature. But some things also come into being as a result of chance; for of most of the things that come into being neither by art nor by nature nor of necessity, we say that they come into being by chance. [B 12] Now of the things that come into being by chance none comes into being for the sake of anything, nor have they an end; but in the case of things that come into being by art there is an end and that for the sake of which (for he who possesses the art will always tell you the reason why he wrote, and for the sake of what he did so), and this is better than that which comes into being because of it. I mean the things of which art is the cause by its own nature and not by accident; for we should properly describe medicine rather as the art of health than as that of disease, and architecture as the art of building houses, not of pulling them down. Everything, therefore, that is according to art comes into being for the sake of something, and this is its best end; but that which comes into being by chance does not come into being for the sake of anything: something good might come into being by chance, yet in respect of chance and insofar as it results from chance it is not goodfor that which comes into being by chance is always indeterminate. [B 13] But that which comes into being according to nature does so for the sake of something and is always constituted for the sake of something better than the product of art; for nature does not imitate art, but art nature, and art exists to aid nature and to ll up what nature leaves undone. For some things nature seems able to complete by itself without aid, but others it does with difculty or cannot do at all; an example close to hand is what happens when something comes into being: some seeds obviously generate without protection, whatever ground they

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fall into, others need the art of farming as well; similarly, some animals too attain their full nature by themselves, but man needs many arts for his preservation, both at birth and in the matter of nutrition later. [B 14] If, then, art imitates nature, it is from nature that the arts have derived the characteristic that all their products come into being for the sake of something. For we should assume that everything that comes into being rightly comes into being for the sake of something. Now that which comes into being well, comes into being rightly; and everything that comes or has come into being according to nature, comes into being well, since that which is contrary to nature is bad and the opposite of that which is according to nature; natural coming into being, therefore, is for the sake of something. [B 15] This one can see from any one of our parts; if, for example you consider the eyelid, you would see that it has come into being not in vain but to aid the eyes, in order to give them rest and to ward off things that fall on to them. Thus that for which something has come into being is the same as that for which it should have come into being; e.g. if a ship ought to have been built to provide transport by sea, it is for the sake of that that it has come into being. [B 16] Now either absolutely all animals belong to the class of things that have come into being by nature and according to nature, or the best and most honourable of them do; for it makes no difference if someone thinks most animals have come into being contrary to nature because of some destruction and evil. The most honourable of the animals in the world is man; so that clearly he has come into being by nature and according to nature. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 51.16-52.5 Pistelli): [B 17] If, then, the end of each thing is always better than the thing (for everything that comes into being does so for the sake of its end, and that for the sake of which is better and the best of all things), and if a natural end is that which is completed last in order of generation when this proceeds continuously; now the bodily parts of man are completed rst, the parts concerned with the soul later, and the completion of the better is somehow always later than its generation; now soul is later than body, and understanding is what emerges last in soul (for we see that it is by nature the last thing to come into being for men, and this indeed is why old age lays claim to this alone of good things): therefore, some form of understanding is by nature our end and the exercise of it the nal activity for the sake of which we have come into being. Now if we have come into being, clearly we also exist to understand and to learn. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 51.6-15 Pistelli): [B 18] Then what is it among existing things for the sake of which nature and god have brought us into being? Pythagoras, when asked about this, answered, To

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observe the heavens, and used to say that he was an observer of nature and had come into life for the sake of this. [B 19] And when somebody asked Anaxagoras for what end one would choose to come into being and to live, he is said to have answered the question by saying, To observe the heavens and the stars, moon and sun in them, everything else being worth nothing. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 52.6-16 Pistelli): [B 20] According to this argument, then, Pythagoras was right in saying that every man has been made by god in order to acquire knowledge and contemplate. But whether the object of this knowledge is the universe or some other nature we must consider later; what we have said sufces as a rst conclusion; for if understanding is our natural end, to understand must be the best of all things. [B 21] Therefore the other things we do we ought to do for the sake of the goods that are in man himself, and of these those in the body for the sake of those in the soul, and excellence for the sake of understanding; for this is the supreme end. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 34.5-35.18 Pistelli): [B 23] As possessing reason, nature of every kind does nothing at random but everything for an end, and banishing chance cares for the end in a higher degree than the artsfor they are, as we know, imitations of nature. Since man is by nature composed of soul and body, and soul is better than body, and that which is inferior is always servant to that which is superior, then the body must exist for the sake of the soul. Recalling that the soul has a rational and an irrational part, we conclude that the irrational part exists for the sake of the rational part. Mind belongs to the rational part: the demonstration thus compels us to state that everything exists for the sake of mind. [B 24] The activities of mind are thoughts, and thinking is the seeing of objects of thought, just as the activity of the faculty of sight is seeing the objects of sight. It is, then, for the sake of mind and thinking that everything is desirable for man; for other things are desirable for the sake of the soul, mind is the best part of the soul, and the other things exist for the sake of the best. [B 25] Again, of thoughts, those are free which are pursued for their own sake, but those which bring about13 knowledge for the sake of something else are like slaves; a thing pursued for itself is always superior to one pursued for something else, so that14 that which is free is superior to that which is not. [B 26] Now if in our actions we use our intellect, even though we take into account our own advantage and consider things from that point of view, yet we follow the guidance of our intellect; we also need our body as a servant and are exposed
13 14

Text uncertain. Reading hoste for hoti.

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to chance too. . . .15 [B 27] Of acts of thought, then, those which are done just because of pure contemplation itself are more honourable and better than those useful for some other ends. Contemplative thinking is in itself honourable and wisdom of the mind is in this kind of thinking desirable; but thinking which involves understanding is honourable because of the actions it produces. The good and the honourable, then, is found in contemplation involving wisdom, but certainly not in every kind of contemplation. . . . [B 28] Man deprived of perception and mind is reduced to the condition of a plant; deprived of mind alone he is turned into a brute; deprived of irrationality but retaining mind, he becomes like god. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 36.7-13 Pistelli): [B 29] For what distinguishes us from the other animals shines through in this sort of life alone, a life in which there is nothing ordinary or of little value. For animals too have some small sparks of reason and understanding, but are entirely deprived of contemplative wisdom . . . ;16 as to sense-perception and impulses, man has less exactness and strength than many animals. F 52 R3 (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 37.22-40.1 Pistelli): [B 31] Moreover, since everyone chooses what is possible and expedient, we must admit that these two characteristics are found in philosophy, and also that the difculty of acquiring it is more than outweighed by its usefulness; for we all do with greater pleasure that which is easy. [B 32] It is easy to show that we are capable of acquiring the sciences that deal with the just and the expedient and also those that deal with nature and the rest of reality. [B 33] The prior is always more knowable than the posterior, and that which is better by nature than that which is worse. For knowledge is more concerned with things that are dened and ordered than with their contraries, and more with causes than with effects. Now good things are more dened and ordered than bad things, just as a good man is more dened and ordered than a bad man: there must be the same difference. Besides, things that are prior are causes rather than things that are posterior; for if the former are removed, the things that have their substance from them are removedlines if numbers are removed, planes if lines are removed, solids if planes are removed, the so-called syllables if letters are removed. [B 34] Therefore, if soul is better than body (being by nature more able to command), and there are arts and forms of understanding concerned with the body, namely medicine and gymnastics (for we reckon these as sciences and say that some peo15 16

Text corrupt. Text corrupt.

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ple possess them), clearly with regard to the soul too and its excellences there is a care and an art, and we can acquire it, since we can do this even with regard to things of which our ignorance is greater and knowledge is harder to come by. [B 35] So too with regard to nature; for it is far more necessary to have understanding of the causes and elements than of things posterior to them; for the latter are not among the highest realities, and the rst principles do not arise from them, but from and through the rst principles all other things manifestly proceed and are constituted. [B 36] For whether it is re or air or number or any other natures that are the causes and principles of other things, if we are ignorant of them we cannot know any of the other things; for how could one recognise speech if one did not know the syllables, or know these if one knew none of the letters? [B 37] So much, then, on the theme that there is a science of truth and of the excellence of the soul, and that we can acquire these. [B 38] That it [sc. understanding] is the greatest of goods and the most useful of all will be clear from what follows: we all agree that the best man and he who is by nature strongest ought to rule, and that the law alone is ruler and has authority; and the law is a sort of understanding and a formula based on understanding. [B 39] Again, what accurate standard or what boundary-marker of what is good do we have apart from the man of understanding? For the things that such a man will choose if his choice follows his knowledge are good and their contraries bad. [B 40] Now since all men choose what accords with their own dispositions (the just man choosing to live justly, the brave man to live bravely, the temperate man to live temperately), similarly it is clear that the man of understanding will choose above all things to understand; for that is the task of this capacity. It is clear, then, that according to the most authoritative opinion understanding is the greatest of goods. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 41.6-11 Pistelli): [B 41] One would see the same point more clearly from the following argument. To understand and to come to know is in itself desirable for men (for it is not possible to live a human life without these activities), and useful too for life; for no good comes to us unless it is accomplished after we have calculated and acted in accordance with understanding. F 58 R3 (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 52.16-54.5 Pistelli): [B 42] To seek from all knowledge a result other than itself and to demand that it must be useful is the act of one completely ignorant of the distance that from the start separates good things from necessary things; for they differ completely. For the things that are loved for the sake of something else and without which life is impossible must be called necessities and joint-causes; but those that are loved

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for themselves, even if nothing else follows from them, must be called goods in the strict sense; for this is not desirable for the sake of that, and that for the sake of something else, and so ad innitumthere is a stop somewhere. It is really ridiculous, then, to demand from everything some benet besides the thing itself, and to ask What is the gain to us? and What is the use? For in truth, as we maintain, such a man is in no way like one who knows the noble and the good or who distinguishes causes from joint-causes. [B 43] One would see the absolute truth of what we are saying if someone as it were carried us in thought to the Isles of the Blest. For there there would be need of nothing and no prot from anything; and there remain only thought and contemplation, which even now we describe as the free life. If this is true, would not any of us be rightly ashamed if when the chance was given us to settle in the Isles of the Blest, he were by his own fault unable to do so? The reward that knowledge brings men is, then, not to be despised, nor is the good that comes from it slight. For as, according to the wise among the poets, we receive the gifts of justice in Hades, so, it seems, we gain those of understanding in the Isles of the Blest. [B 44] It is not at all strange, then, if it [sc. understanding] does not show itself useful or advantageous; for we call it not advantageous but good, and it should be chosen not for the sake of something else but for itself. For as we travel to Olympia for the sake of the spectacle itself, even if nothing more were to follow from it (for the spectacle itself is worth more than much money), and as we view the Dionysia not in order to gain anything from the actors (indeed, we spend money on them), and as there are many other spectacles we should prefer to much money, so too the contemplation of the universe is to be honoured above all things that are thought useful. For surely we should not take great pains to go to see men imitating women and slaves, or ghting and running, and yet not think it right to view without payment the nature and reality of things. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 54.10-56.12 Pistelli): [B 46] But that contemplative understanding is also of the greatest usefulness to us for our practical life can easily be seen from the arts. For as clever doctors and most experts in physical training pretty well agree that those who are to be good doctors or trainers must have a general knowledge of nature, so good lawmakers too must have a general knowledge of natureand indeed much more than the former. For the former only produce excellence in the body, while the latter, being concerned with the excellences of the soul and claiming to teach about the happiness and misery of the state, need philosophy still more. [B 47] For just as in the ordinary crafts the best tools were discovered from nature, as for instance in the builders art the plumbline, the ruler and the compassesfor some come from

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water, others from light and the rays of the sun, and it is by reference to these that we determine what is to the senses sufciently straight and smooth, in the same way the statesman must have certain boundary-markers taken from nature itself and from truth by reference to which he will determine what is just, what is good, and what is expedient. For just as there these tools excel all others, so too the best law is that which has the greatest possible conformity to nature. [B 48] Nobody, however, who has not practised philosophy and learned truth is able to do this. Furthermore, in the other arts and crafts men do not take their tools and their most accurate reasonings from rst principles and so attain something approaching knowledge: they take them from what is second or third hand or at a distant remove, and base their reasonings on experience. The philosopher alone imitates that which is exact; for he looks at the exact things themselves, not at imitations. [B 49] Consequently, as a man is not a good builder if he does not use the ruler or any other such instrument but takes his measure from other buildings, so presumably if a man either lays down laws for cities or performs actions by looking at and imitating other human actions or constitutions, whether of Sparta or Crete or of any other state, he is not a good or serious lawgiver; for an imitation of what is not good cannot be good, nor can an imitation of what is not divine and stable in its nature be immortal and stable. But it is clear that to the philosopher alone among craftsmen belong laws that are stable and actions that are right and noble. [B 50] For he alone lives by looking at nature and the divine. Like a good helmsman he moors his life to that which is eternal and unchanging, drops his anchor there, and lives his own master. [B 51] This knowledge is indeed contemplative, but it enables us to frame all our practice in accordance with it. For just as sight makes and shapes nothing (since its only work is to judge and to show us everything than can be seen), yet enables us to act as it directs and gives us the greatest assistance towards action (for we should be almost entirely motionless if deprived of it), so it is clear that, though knowledge is contemplative, yet we do innumerable things in accordance with it, choose some things and avoid others, and in general gain as a result of it everything that is good. F 52 R3 (Iamblichus, de communi mathematica scientia 79.15-80.1 Festa): [B 52] Now he who is to consider these matters must not forget that all things good and useful for human life reside in use and action, not in mere knowledge; for we become healthy not by knowing the things that produce health but by applying them to our bodies; we become wealthy not by knowing wealth but by possessing much property; most important of all, we live well not by knowing something of that which exists, but by doing well; for this is true happiness. It follows that

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philosophy too, if it is useful, must be either a doing of good things or useful as a means to such acts. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 40.1-41.5 Pistelli): [B 53] Now we ought not to ee philosophy if it is, as we think, the acquisition and exercise of wisdom, and wisdom is among the greatest goods; and if in pursuit of gain we run many risks by sailing to the pillars of Hercules, we should not shrink from labour or expense in the pursuit of understanding. It is slave-like to desire to live rather than to live well, to follow the opinions of the many instead of expecting the many to follow ones own, to seek money but show no concern at all for what is noble. [B 54] As to the value and the greatness of the thing, I think we have sufciently proved our case; that the acquisition of wisdom is much easier than that of other goods, one might be convinced by the following arguments. [B 55] The fact that those who pursue philosophy get no reward from men to spur them to the considerable efforts they make, and17 that having spent much on acquiring other skills, nevertheless in a short time their progress in exact knowledge is rapid, seems to me a sign of the easiness of philosophy. [B 56] So too that all men feel at home in philosophy and wish to spend their lives in the pursuit of it, leaving all other cares, is no small evidence that it is pleasant to sit down to it; for no-one is willing to work hard for a long time. Besides, the exercise of philosophy differs very much from all other labours: those who practise it need no tools or places for their work; wherever in the whole world one sets ones thought to work, one is everywhere equally able to grasp the truth as if it were actually present. [B 57] Thus it has been proved that philosophy is possible, that it is the greatest of goods, and that it is easy to acquire; so that on all counts it is tting that we should eagerly lay hold of it. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 41.15-42.29 Pistelli): [B 59] Further, part of us is soul, part body; the one rules, the other is ruled; the one uses, the other is present as its instrument. Again, the use of that which is ruled, i.e. the instrument, is always arranged to t that which rules and uses. [B 60] Of the soul one part is reason (which by nature rules and judges in matters concerning ourselves), the other part follows and is of a nature such as to be ruled; everything is well arranged in accordance with its appropriate excellencefor to attain this is good. [B 61] And indeed, when the most authoritative and most honourable parts attain their excellence, then it is well arranged; now the natural excellence of that which is naturally better is the better, and that which is by nature
17

Reading poly te.

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more t to rule and more authoritative is better, as man is in relation to the other animals; consequently soul is better than body (for it is tter to rule), and of soul, that part which has reason and thought (for such is that which commands and forbids and says that we ought or ought not to act). [B 62] Whatever excellence, then, is the excellence of this part must be, for all beings in general and for us, the most desirable of all things; for one would, I think, maintain that we are this part, either alone or especially. [B 63] Further, when a thing best produces that which isnot by accident but in itselfits product, then that thing must be said to be good too, and that excellence in virtue of which each thing can achieve precisely this result must be termed its supreme excellence. [B 64] Now that which is composite and divisible into parts has several different activities; but that which is by nature simple and whose substance does not consist in a relation to something else must have only one proper excellence of its own. [B 65] If, then, man is a simple animal and his substance is ordered according to reason and mind, he has no other product than the most exact truth and a true account of the things that exist; but if he is composed of several faculties, it is clear that when someone can produce several things, the best of them is always his product, e.g. health is of the doctor and safety of the helmsman. Now we can name no better product of thought and the thinking part of the soul than truth. Truth therefore is the supreme product of this part of the soul. [B 66] Now this it does, generally speaking, by knowledge, and more so by knowledge of a more perfect kind; and the supreme end of this is contemplation. For when of two things one is desirable for the sake of the other, the latter is better and more desirable for the same reason as the other is desirable; e.g. pleasure than pleasant things, health than healthy things; for these are said to be productive of those. [B 67] Now nothing is more worthy of choice, when one state is compared with another, than understanding, which we maintain to be the faculty of the supreme element in us; for the cognitive part, whether taken alone or in combination with the other parts, is better than all the rest of the soul; and its excellence is knowledge. [B 68] Therefore none of what are called the particular excellences is its product; for it is better than all of them and the end produced is always better than the knowledge that produces it. Nor is every excellence of the soul in this way its product; nor is happiness. For if it is to be productive, it will produce results different from itself; as the art of building produces a house but is not part of a house. But understanding is part of excellence and of happiness; for we say that happiness either comes from it or is it. [B 69] According to this argument too,

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then, it cannot be a productive knowledge; for the end must be better than that which is coming to be and nothing is better than understanding, unless it is one of the things we have namedand none of these is a product distinct from it. Therefore we must say that this form of knowledge is contemplative, since it is impossible that its end should be production. [B 70] Hence understanding and contemplation are the product of the soul, and this is of all things the most desirable for men, comparable, I think, to eyesight. For one would choose to have sight even if nothing other than sight itself were to result from it. [B 71 ] Again, if we love one thing because something else necessarily results from it, clearly we shall wish more for that which possesses this quality more fully; e.g. if a man chooses walking because it is healthy but nds that running is more healthy and that he can get it, he will prefer running and, if he knows, would choose to run. If, therefore, true opinion is similar to understanding, and if true opinion is desirable precisely according to the manner and extent to which it is like understanding by reason of being true, then if this is found more in understanding, understanding is more desirable than believing truly. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 43.25-27 Pistelli): [B 72] Again, if we love sight for its own sake, that is sufcient evidence that all men love understanding and knowing most of all. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 44.26-45.3 Pistelli): [B 73] For in loving life they love understanding and knowing; they value life for no other reason than for the sake of perception, and above all for the sake of sight; they evidently love this faculty in the highest degree because it is, in comparison with the other senses, simply a kind of knowledge. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 44.9-26 Pistelli): [B 74] Indeed, living is distinguished from not living by perception, and life is determined by its presence and power: if this is taken away life is not worth living; it is as though life itself were removed by the loss of perception. [B 75] Now of perceptions the power of sight is distinguished by being the clearest, and it is for this reason that we prefer it to the other senses; but every sense is a cognitive power which works through the body, as hearing perceives sound through the ears. [B 76] Therefore, if life is desirable for the sake of perception and perception is a kind of knowing, and if it is because the soul can come to know by means of it that we desire to live; [B 77] further, if, as we said just now, of two things, the one which possesses the desirable quality more fully is always more desirable, then of the senses sight must be the most desirable and honourable; and understanding is more desirable than it and than all the other senses, and than life itself, since it has

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a stronger grasp of truth; hence all men aim at understanding, most of all things. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 56.13-59.17 Pistelli): [B 78] That those who have chosen to live according to mind also enjoy life most will be clear from the following argument. [B 79] Things are said to be alive in two senses, in virtue of a potentiality and in virtue of an actuality; for we describe as seeing both those animals which have sight and are naturally capable of seeing, even if they happen to have their eyes shut, and those which are using this faculty and are looking at something. Similarly with knowing and cognition: we sometimes mean by it the use of the faculty and contemplation, sometimes the possession of the faculty and having knowledge. [B 80] If, then, we distinguish life from non-life by the possession of perception, and perceiving has two senses properly of using ones senses, in another way of being able to use them (it is for this reason, it seems, that we say even of a sleeping man that he perceives)it is clear that living will correspondingly be taken in two senses: a waking man must be said to live in the true and proper sense; as for a sleeping man, because he is capable of passing into the activity in virtue of which we say that a man is waking and perceiving something, it is for this reason and with reference to this that we describe him as living. [B 81] When, therefore, each of two things is called by the same term, the one by being active the other by being passive, we shall say that the former possesses the property to a greater degree; e.g. we shall say that a man who uses knowledge knows to a greater degree than a man who possesses knowledge, and that a man who is looking at something sees to a greater degree than one who can do so. [B 82] For we use to a greater degree not only in virtue of an excess (in the case of things which share a single account) but also in virtue of priority and posteriority; e.g. we say that health is good to a greater degree than healthy things, and that what is by its own nature desirable is so to a greater degree than what is productive of this; yet we see that there is not a single account18 predicated of both when we say both of useful things and of excellence that each is good. [B 83] Thus we say that a waking man lives to a greater degree than a sleeping man, and that a man who is exercising his soul lives to a greater degree than a man who possesses it; for it is because of the former that we say that the latter lives, because he is such as to be active or passive in this manner. [B 84] The use of anything, then, is this: if the capacity is for a single thing, then it is doing just that thing; if it is for several things, then it is doing whichever is the best of these. E.g. a ute: a man uses a ute only or especially when he plays itfor the other cases presumably also t here. Thus we must say that he who uses a thing
18

Reading ouch eis for ouch e.

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aright uses it to a greater degree; for he who uses something well and accurately uses it for the natural end and in the natural way. [B 85] Now thinking and reasoning are, either alone or above everything else, the products of the soul. It is now simple and easy for anyone to infer that the man who thinks aright lives to a greater degree, and that he who reaches truth in the highest degree lives in the highest degree, and that this is the man who understands and contemplates according to the most precise knowledge; and it is then and to these men that perfect life must be ascribedto those who understand and are men of understanding. [B 86] Now if for every animal to live is the same as to exist, it is clear that the man of understanding will exist to the highest degree and in the most proper sense, and most of all when he is exercising this faculty and contemplating what is most knowable of all things. [B 87] Again, perfect and unimpeded activity contains in itself delight; so that the activity of contemplation must be the most pleasant of all. [B 88] Further, there is a difference between enjoying oneself while drinking and enjoying drinking; for there is nothing to prevent a man who is not thirsty, or is not getting the drink he enjoys, from enjoying himself while drinkingnot because he is drinking but because he happens at the same time to be looking at something or to be looked at as he sits. So we shall say that such a man enjoys himself, and enjoys himself while drinking, but not that he does so because he is drinking, nor that he is enjoying drinking. In the same way we shall say that walking, sitting down, learning, any activity, is pleasant or painful, not if we happen to feel pain or pleasure in the presence of these activities, but if we are all pained or pleased by their presence. [B 89] Similarly, we shall call that life pleasant whose presence is pleasant to those who have it; and we shall say that not all who have pleasure while living enjoy living, but only those to whom living is itself pleasant and who rejoice in the pleasure that comes from life. [B 90] So we assign life to the man who is awake rather than to him who is asleep, to him who understands rather than to him who is foolish, and we say the pleasure of living is the pleasure we get from the exercise of the soulfor that is true life. [B 91] If, then, there is more than one exercise of the soul, still the chief of all is that of understanding as well as possible. It is clear, then, that necessarily the pleasure arising from understanding and contemplation is, alone or most of all, the pleasure of living. Pleasant life and true enjoyment, therefore, belong only to philosophers, or to them most of all. For the activity of our truest thoughts, nourished by the most real of things and preserving steadfastly for ever the perfection it receives, is of all activities the most productive of joy. (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 59.19-60.10 Pistelli):

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[B 93] If we should not only infer this from the parts of happiness but also go deeper and establish it on the basis of happiness as a whole, let us state explicitly that as philosophizing is related to happiness so it is related to our character as good or bad men. For it is as leading to or following from well-being that all things are worthy of choice, and of the sources of happiness some are necessary others pleasant. [B 94] Thus we lay it down that happiness is either understanding and a form of wisdom, or excellence, or genuine pleasure, or all of these. [B 95] Now if it is understanding, clearly philosophers alone will enjoy a happy life; if it is excellence of the soul or enjoyment, then too it will belong to them alone or most of allfor excellence is that which governs our life, and understanding is, if one thing is compared with another, the most pleasant of all things. Similarly, if one says that all these things together are identical with happiness, it must be dened by understanding. [B 96] Therefore all who can should practise philosophy; for this is either the perfect life or of all single things most truly the cause of it for souls. F 55 R3 , F 59 R3 , F 60 R3 , F 61 R3 (Iamblichus, Protrepticus 45.4-48.21 Pistelli): [B 97] It is no bad thing to throw light on the subject by adducing what appears clearly to everyone. [B 98] To everyone this much is quite plain, that no-one would choose to live in possession of the greatest19 possible wealth and power but deprived of understanding and mad, not even if he were to be pursuing with delight the most violent pleasures, as some madmen do. All men, then, it seems, shun folly above all things. Now the contrary of folly is understanding; and of two contraries one is to be avoided, the other to be chosen. [B 99] Thus as illness is to be avoided, so health is to be chosen. Hence according to this argument too, in the light of common conceptions, it seems that understanding is most desirable of all things, and not for the sake of anything that follows from it. For even if a man had everything but were destroyed and diseased in his understanding, his life would not be desirable, since even the other good things could not prot him. [B 100] Therefore all men, insofar as they can come within reach of understanding and taste its savour, reckon other things as nothing, and for this reason not one of us would endure being drunk or a child throughout his life. [B 101] For this reason too, though sleep is a very pleasant thing, it is not desirable, even if we suppose the sleeper to have all possible pleasures, because the images of sleep are false while those of waking men are true. For sleep and waking differ in nothing else but the fact that the soul when awake often knows
19

Retaining megisten.

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the truth but in sleep is always deceived; for the whole nature of dreams is an image and a falsity. [B 102] Further, the fact that most men shrink from death shows the souls love of learning. For it shrinks from what it does not know, from darkness and obscurity, and naturally seeks what is manifest and knowable. This is, above all, the reason why we say we ought to honour exceedingly those who have caused us to see the sun and the light, and to revere our fathers and mothers as causes of the greatest of goodsthey are, it seems, the causes of our understanding and seeing. It is for the same reason that we delight in things and men that are familiar, and call dear those whom we know. These things, then, show plainly that what is knowable and manifest and clear is a thing to be loved; and if what is knowable and clear, then also knowing and understanding. [B 103] Besides this, just as in the case of property it is not the same possession that conduces to life and to a happy life for men, so it is in the case of understanding too: we do not, I think, need the same understanding with a view to mere life and with a view to the good life. The majority of men may well be pardoned for doing this: they certainly pray for happiness, but they are content if they can merely live. But unless one thinks one ought to endure living on any terms whatever, it is ridiculous not to suffer every toil and bestow every care to gain that kind of understanding which will know the truth. [B 104] One might recognise this from the following facts too, if one viewed human life in a clear light. For one will nd that all the things men think great are mere scene-painting; hence it is rightly said that man is nothing and that nothing human is stable. Strength, size, beauty are a laugh and of no worth; . . .20 only because we see nothing accurately. [B 105] For if one could see as clearly as they say Lynceus did, who saw through walls and trees, would one ever have thought a man endurable to look at if one saw of what poor materials he is made? Honours and reputation, things so envied, are more than other things full of indescribable folly; for to him who catches a glimpse of things eternal it seems foolish to crave for these things. What is there among human things that is long-lived or lasting? It is owing to our weakness, I think, and the shortness of our life that even this appears great. [B 106] Which of us, looking to these facts, would think himself happy and blessed? For all of us are from the very beginning (as they say in the initiation rites) shaped by nature as though for punishment. For it is an inspired saying of the ancients that the soul pays penalties and that we live for the punishment of great sins. [B 107] For indeed the conjunction of the soul with the body looks very much like this. For as the Etruscans are said often to torture captives by chaining dead bodies
20

Text corrupt.

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face to face with the living, tting part to part, so the soul seems to be extended throughout and afxed to all the sensitive members of the body. [B 108] Mankind possesses nothing divine or blessed that is of any account except what there is in us of mind and understanding: this alone of our possessions seems to be immortal, this alone divine. [B 109] By virtue of being able to share in this faculty, life, however wretched and difcult by nature, is yet so cleverly arranged that man seems a god in comparison with all other creatures. [B 110] For mind is the god in uswhether it was Hermotimus or Anaxagoras who said soand mortal life contains a portion of some god. We ought, therefore, either to philosophize or to say farewell to life and depart hence, since all other things seem to be great nonsense and folly. F 51 R3 (Elias, Prolegomena Philosophiae 3.17-23). . . . or like Aristotle in his work entitled Protrepticus, for he puts it like this: If you ought to philosophize you ought to philosophize; and if you ought not to philosophize you ought to philosophize: therefore, in any case you ought to philosophize. For if philosophy exists, we certainly ought to philosophize, since it exists: and if it does not exist, in that case too we ought to inquire why philosophy does not existand by inquiring we philosophize; for inquiry is the cause of philosophy. F 53 R3 (Cicero, Tusculanae disputationes III xxviii 69): Thus Aristotle, accusing the old philosophers who taught that philosophy had been perfected by their own talents, says that they were either very stupid or very conceited; but that he sees that, since in a few years a great advance has been made, philosophy will in a short time be brought to completion. F 54 R3 (Calcidius, Commentarius in Timaeum 225.21-226.2 Waszink): . . . Aristotle agrees, saying that at rst children, before they are weaned, think that all men are their fathers and all women their mothers, and that as they grow older they make the distinction but they are not always successful in distinguishing and often are taken in by false images and stretch out their hands towards the image. F 54 R3 (Calcidius, Commentarius in Timaeum 226.8-15 Waszink): It is the height of madness not merely to be ignorant but not to realize that you are ignorant and therefore to assent to false images and to suppose that true images are falseas when men think that wickedness is advantageous and virtue an impediment that brings destruction; and such an opinion accompanies to their last years many men who believe that doing injury is very expedient and acting rightly disadvantageous, and who are therefore reviled. Aristotle calls such people aged children, because their minds hardly differ from those of children.

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F 56 R3 (Plutarch, Pelopidas 279B): For of the majority of people, as Aristotle says, some do not use it [sc. wealth] through meanness, and others misuse it through extravagance and the latter spend their lives as slaves to every passing pleasure, the former as slaves to their business. F 61 R3 (Cicero, de nibus II xiii 40): . . . man, as Aristotle says, was born for two things, understanding and action, as though he were a mortal god. F 62 R3 (Plutarch, quaestiones convivales 734D): Coming into contact with Aristotles Scientic Problems, which had been brought to Thermopylae, Florus himself came to teem with many puzzlesas is normal and proper to philosophical naturesand passed them on to his companions; he thus bore witness to Aristotles remark that much learning is the beginning of many puzzles.21 F 63 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, IX 53): He [sc. Protagoras] was the rst to discover the so-called knot on which they carry their burdens, as Aristotle says in his On Education; for he was a porter, as Epicurus too says somewhere. F 64 R3 (Themistius, orationes 295CD): This man, after some slight association with my studies or amusements, had almost the same experience as the philosopher Axiothea, Zeno of Citium, and the Corinthian farmer. . . . The Corinthian farmer, after coming into contact with Gorgiasnot Gorgias himself, but the dialogue Plato wrote in criticism of the sophistat once gave up his farm and his vines, mortgaged his soul to Plato, and sowed and planted Platos views there. This is the man whom Aristotle honours in his Corinthian22 dialogue. F 65 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, VIII 57): Aristotle in the Sophist says that Empedocles was the rst to discover rhetoric, Zeno dialectic. F 66 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, VIII 63): Aristotle says that he [sc. Empedocles] was a free spirit and averse to all authority, if (as Xanthus says in his account of him) he refused the kingship which was offered to him, plainly setting more value on simplicity. F 67 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, IX 54):
21 22

The text of the last clause is disputed. Perhaps read Nerintho.

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Pythodorus, son of Polyzelus, one of the Four Hundred, accused him [sc. Protagoras]; but Aristotle says that Euathlus did. F 68 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, II 55): Aristotle says that a vast number of people wrote eulogies and memorials to Grylos, partly in the wish to please his father. F 69 R3 (Quintilian, II xvii 14): Aristotle, as is his custom, has in the Grylos produced for the sake of inquiry certain arguments of his usual subtlety [to show that rhetoric is not an art] . . . F 70 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, VIII 57-58): In his On Poets he [sc. Aristotle] says that Empedocles was both Homeric and skilled in his diction, using metaphor and the other devices of poetry; and that although he wrote other poems toothe Crossing of Xerxes, and a Prelude to Apolloa sister of his (or, as Hieronymus says, a daughter) later burned them, the Prelude by accident, the Persian verses deliberately because they were unnished. And he says in general that he also wrote tragedies and works on politics. F 71 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, VIII 51-52): Eratosthenes, in his Olympic Victors, says that Metons father23 won his victory in the seventy-rst Olympiad: his authority is Aristotle. . . . Aristotle, and also Heraclides, say that he [sc. Empedocles] died at the age of sixty. F 72 R3 (Athenaeus, 505C): Aristotle in his work On Poets writes thus: Are we then to deny that the socalled mimes of Sophron, which are not even in verse,24 or those of Alexamenus of Teos, which were written before25 the Socratic dialogues, are dialogues26 and imitations? Thus Aristotle, the most learned of men, says outright that Alexamenus wrote dialogues before Plato. F 73 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, III 37): Aristotle says that the form of his [sc. Platos] writings was in between poetry and prose. F 74 R3 (Macrobius, V xviii 19-20): I will quote Aristotles own words in the second book of his On Poets, where he says this about Euripides: Euripides says that the sons of Thestius went with their left foot unshodat all events, he writes that: In their left step they were unshod of foot, while the other had sandals,
23 24

Meton was Empedocles father. Reading emmetrous ontas tous. 25 Reading proteron for proton. 26 Reading dialogous for logous.

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Now the custom of the Aetolians is just the opposite: their left foot is shod, the right unshodI suppose because the leading foot should be light, but not the one which remains xed. F 75 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, II 46): He [sc. Socrates] had as rivals, according to Aristotle in the third book of his On Poetry, a certain Antilochus of Lemnos and Antiphon the soothsayer just as Pythagoras had Cylon of Croton; Homer when alive Syagrus and when dead Xenophanes of Colophon; Hesiod when alive Cercops and when dead the aforesaid Xenophanes; Pindar, Amphimenes of Cos; Thales, Pherecydes; Bias, Salaros of Priene; Pittakos, Antimenidas and Alcaeus; Anaxagoras, Sosibius; and Simonides, Timocreon. F 76 R3 ([Plutarch], Vita Homeri 3): Aristotle in the third book of his On Poetry says that in the island of Ios, at the time when Neleus the son of Codrus was leading the Ionian settlement, a certain girl who was a native of the island became pregnant by a spirit which was one of the companions of the Muses in the dance. Being ashamed of what had happened because of the size of her belly, she went to a place called Aegina. Pirates raided the place, enslaved the girl, and took her to Smyrna which was then under the Lydians; they did this as a favour to Maeon, who was the king of Lydia and their friend. He fell in love with the girl for her beauty and married her. While she was living near the Meles the birth-pangs came upon her and she gave birth to Homer on the bank of the river. Maeon adopted him and brought him up as his own child, Critheis having died immediately after her delivery. Not long after, Maeon himself died. When the Lydians were being oppressed by the Aeolians and had decided to leave Smyrna, and their leaders had called on any who wished to follow them to leave the town, Homer, who was still an infant, said he too wished to follow (homerein); for which reason he was called Homer instead of Melesigenes. F 78 R3 (Cicero, ad Quintum fratrem III v 1): . . . Aristotle says in his own name what he has to say about the state and the outstanding man. F 79 R3 (Syrianus, Commentarius in Metaphysica 168.33-35): In the second book of the Politicus he [sc. Aristotle] says the same as his predecessors about this subjecthis words are: The good is the most accurate measure of all things. F 80 R3 (Seneca, de ira I ix 2):

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Anger, Aristotle says, is necessary, nor can any battle be won without it unless it lls the mind and kindles the spirit. But we must treat it not as a commander but as a soldier. (Philodemus, Volumina Rhetorica II.175, frag. XV): A hare that makes its appearance among hounds cannot escape, Aristotle says, nor can that which is deemed despicable and shameless survive among men. F 82 R3 (Demetrius, de elocutione 28): At all events, in Aristotles work On Justice, if the speaker who is bewailing the fate of Athens were to say The enemy city they captured, their own they forsook, he would have used the language of emotion and lament; but if he makes it assonantThe enemy city they took, their own they forsookby heaven he will not rouse any emotion or pity but only tears of laughter. F 83 R3 (Athenaeus, 6D): Others call Philoxenus a sh-lover, but Aristotle calls him simply a dinnerlover. He writes, I think, as follows: When they are making speeches to crowded audiences they spend the whole day in relating marvels, and that to men who have just sailed in from the Phasis or the Borysthenes, when they have read nothing themselves but the Dinner of Philoxenusand not the whole of that. F 84 R3 (Suetonius, de blasphemiis 84 Taillardat): Aristotle in the rst book of his On Justice says that he [sc. Eurybatos] was a thief who, when he was caught and put in chains, was encouraged by the warders to show how he got over walls and into houses: on being set free, he fastened the spikes to his feet and took the spongesthen he easily climbed up, broke through the roof, and got away. F 86 R3 (Plutarch, de Stoicorum repugnantiis 1040E): . . . he [sc. Chrysippus] says in criticism of Aristotle on the subject of justice that he is not right in saying that if pleasure is the end justice is destroyed, and with justice each of the other excellences. F 87 R3 (Boethius, Commentarius in de Interpretatione, ed. 2, I i 27): In his work On Justice he [sc. Aristotle] makes it clear that nouns and verbs are not sounds that signify objects of perception; he says: the objects of thought and the objects of perception are from the start distinct in their natures. F 89 R3 (Cicero, de ofciis II xvi 56-57): How much more serious and true is Aristotles criticism of us for not being astonished at these vast sums of money spent on captivating the populace. For he says27 that if men besieged by an enemy should be compelled to pay a mina for
27

Reading ait enim for at ii.

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a pint of water, that seems at rst incredible to us and everyone is astonished; but when they think about it, they pardon it as due to necessity. Yet in the case of this enormous outlay and endless expenditure, we are not greatly astonished at all even though necessity is not being relieved or respect increased, and the pleasure of the populace itself lasts only a very short time and moreover derives from the most trivial of objects where at the moment of gratication even the memory of the pleasure dies. He rightly infers that these things gratify children, womenfolk, slaves, and slavelike free men; but they can in no way be approved of by a serious man who weighs events with a sure judgment. (Philodemus, de oeconomia XXI 28-35): . . . which happened to Aristotle in respect of the argument in the work On Wealth28 to show that the good man is also a good money-maker and the bad man a bad money-maker (as Metrodorus proved). F 91 R3 (Stobaeus, Anthologium IV xxix A 24): From Aristotle On Good Birth. In short, with regard to good birth, I for my part am at a loss to say whom one should call well-born. Your difculty, I said, is quite reasonable; for among the many and even more among the wise there is division of opinion and obscurity of statement, particularly about its value. What I mean is this: is it a valuable and good thing, or, as Lycophron the sophist wrote, something altogether empty? For, comparing it with other goods, he says the nobility of good birth is obscure, and its dignity a matter of wordsthe preference for it is a matter of opinion, and in truth there is no difference between the low-born and the well-born. F 92 R3 (Stobaeus, Anthologium IV xxix A 25): In the same book. Just as it is disputed what height is good, so it is disputed who those are who ought to be called well-born. Some think it is those born of good ancestors, which was the view of Socrates; he said that because Aristides was good his daughter was nobly born. They say that Simonides, when asked who it is that are well-born, said those whose family has long been rich; but at that rate Theognis reprimand is wrong, and so is that of the poet who wrote Mortals honour good birth, but marry rather with the rich. Good heavens, is not a man who is rich himself preferable to one who had a rich great-grandfather or some other rich ancestor, but is himself poor? Surely, he said. And one ought to marry with the rich rather than with the well-born; for it is people who were once rich who are well-born, but people who are now rich who
28

Text uncertain.

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are more powerful. Is it not much the same, then, if one supposes that it is not those born into a once rich family but those born into a once good family who are well-born? One would suppose that recent goodness is better than ancient, that a man has more in common with his father than with his great-grandfather, and that it is more desirable to be good oneself than to have a great-grandfather or some other ancestor who was good. You are right, he said. Well, then, since we see that good birth does not consist in either of these things, should we not look elsewhere to see what it consists in?29 We should, he said. Good (to eu) means, I suppose, something praiseworthy and excellent; e.g. having a good face or good eyes means, on this showing, something good or ne. Certainly, he said. Well then, having a good face is having the excellence proper to a face, and having good eyes is having the excellence proper to eyes, is it not? Yes, he said. But one family (genos) is good, another bad and not good. Certainly, he said. And we say each thing is good in virtue of the excellence proper to it, so that a family is good in the same way. Yes, he said. Clearly, then, I said, good birth (eugeneia) is excellence of family. F 93 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, II 26): Aristotle says that he [sc. Socrates] had two wives, rst Xanthippe from whom he had Lamprocles, and secondly Myrto, the daughter of Aristides the Just, whom he took without a dowry and from whom he had Sophroniscus and Menexenus. F 93 R3 (Plutarch, Aristides 335CD): Demetrius of Phaleron, Hieronymus of Rhodes, Aristoxenus the writer on music, and Aristotle (if the work On Good Birth is to be reckoned among his genuine works) relate that Myrto, grand-daughter of Aristides, lived with the sage Socrates, who was married to another woman but took Myrto under his protection when she was widowed because she was poor and lacking in the necessities of life. F 94 R3 (Stobaeus, Anthologium IV xxix C 52): From Aristotles work On Good Birth: It is evident, then, I said, on the subject which has for so long puzzled us, why those born into once rich or once
29

Reading tini touto eni pote.

FRAGMENTS: I: DIALOGUES

49

good families are thought to be better born than those whose possession of these advantages is recent. For a mans own goodness is nearer to him than that of a grandfather, and on that basis it would be the good man who is well born. And some have said this, claiming by this deduction to argue against good birth: Euripides, for example, says that good birth belongs not to those whose ancestors have long been good, but to a man who is himself good, simply. That is not so; those are right who give preference to ancient excellence. Let us state the reasons for this. Good birth is excellence of family, and excellence is good; and a good family is one in which there have been many good men. Now this happens when the family has had a good origin; for an origin has the power of producing many products like itself: this is the function of an originto produce many results like itself. When, then, there has been one man of this kind in the family, a man so good that many generations inherit his goodness, the family is bound to be good. There will be many good men if the family is human, many good horses if it is equine, and so too with the other animals. Thus it is reasonable that not rich men nor good men but those born into once rich or once good families should be well born. The argument has its eye on the truth: the origin counts more than anything else. Yet not even those born of good ancestors are in every case well born, but only those who have among their ancestors originators who are good.30 When a man is good himself but has not the natural power to beget many like him, the origin has not in such a case the power we have ascribed to it. . . .31 People are well born if they come of such a familynot if their father is well born but if the originator of the family is so. For it is not by himself that a father begets a good man, but because he came of such a family. F 96 R3 (Athenaeus, 564B): Aristotle said that lovers look to no other part of the bodies of their beloved than their eyes, in which modesty dwells. F 97 R3 (Plutarch, Pelopidas 287D): It is said also that Iolaus, who was the beloved of Hercules, shares in the contests of the Thebans and ghts alongside them. Aristotle says that even in his day lovers and their beloved still pledged their troth on the tomb of Iolaus. F 98 R3 (Plutarch, Amatorius 761A): Aristotle says that Cleomachus died in a different way, after defeating the Eretrians in battle, and that the man embraced by his lover was one of the Chalcidians from Thrace who had been sent to help the Chalcidians in Euboeahence
30 31

Reading ontes agathoi. There is a lacuna in the text.

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the Chalcidian song, O children . . . . (al-Dailami, cod. Tubingen Weisweiler 81): It is said in a certain book of the ancients that the pupils of Aristotle assembled before him one day. And Aristotle said to them: While I was standing on a hill I saw a youth who stood on a terrace roof and recited a poem, the meaning of which was this: whoever dies of passionate love, let him die in this manner there is no good in love without death. Then said his pupil Issos: O philosopher, inform us concerning the essence of love. And Aristotle replied: Love is an impulse which is generated in the heart; when it is once generated, it moves and grows; afterwards it becomes mature. When it has become mature it is joined by affections of appetite whenever the lover in the depth of his heart increases in his excitement, his perseverance, his desire, his concentrations, and his wishes. And that brings him to cupidity and urges him to demands, until it brings him to disquieting grief, continuous sleeplessness, and hopeless passion and sadness and destruction of mind. F 101 R3 (Athenaeus, 674F): Aristotle in the Symposium says that we offer nothing mutilated to the gods, but only what is perfect and whole; and what is full is perfect; and garlanding signies a certain sort of lling. F 103 R3 (Apollonius, Historiae mirabiles 25): Aristotle in his On Drunkenness says that Andron of Argos, though he ate many salty and dry foods, remained all through his life without thirst and without drink. Besides, he twice travelled to Ammon through the desert, eating dry barleygroats but taking no liquid. F 104 R3 (Athenaeus, 641DE): Aristotle, in his On Drunkenness, talks of second courses in the same way as we do, thus: We must consider that a sweetmeat differs entirely from a foodstuff, as much as what is eaten differs from what is nibbled (nibbles was the old Greek word for things served as sweetmeats); so that the rst person to speak of second courses seems to have been justiedfor the eating of sweets is a sort of extra dinner, and the sweetmeats form a second meal. F 105 R3 ([Julian], Letters 391BC): The g . . . is so useful to mankind that Aristotle actually says that it is an antidote to every poison, and that for precisely that reason it is served at meals both as an hors doeuvre and as a dessertas though it were being wrapped round the iniquities of the food in preference to any other sacred antidote. F 106 R3 (Athenaeus, 447AB): Aristotle in his work On Drunkenness says . . .: Something peculiar happens

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in the case of the barley-liquor which they call pinon. Those who are drunk on other intoxicants fall in all directionsto left, to right, face down, face up: those who are drunk on pinon only32 fall backwards and face up. F 107 R3 (Athenaeus, 429CD): Aristotle in his work On Drunkenness says: If wine is boiled down slightly, it is less intoxicating when drunk; for when it is boiled down its potency becomes weaker. Older men, he says, get drunk very quickly because of the scarcity and weakness of the natural heat in them; and very young men get drunk fairly quickly because of the abundance of heat in themfor they are easily overcome by the added heat from the wine. And of the lower animals, pigs get drunk when they are fed on masses of pressed grapes, ravens and dogs when they have eaten the so-called wine-plant, monkeys and elephants when they drink wine. That is why men hunt for monkeys and ravens after getting them drunk on wine or on the wine-plant. F 108 R3 (Plutarch, quaestiones convivales 650A): Florus was surprised that Aristotle, having written in his work On Drunkenness that old men are most susceptible to drunkenness and women least so, did not work out the cause, although he does not normally omit such inquiries. F 109 R3 (Athenaeus, 429F): Aristotle says that a pint and a half of watered Samagorian wine, as they call it, will make more than forty men drunk. F 110 R3 , F 111 R3 (Athenaeus, 464CD): Aristotle in his work On Drunkenness says: The cups they call Rhodian are introduced at drinking-parties both because of their taste and because when heated they make the wine less intoxicating. For they put myrrh, rushes, and other such stuffs into water and bring it to the boil; when this is added to the wine it is less intoxicating. In another part of the work he says: Rhodian cups are made by boiling together myrrh, rushes, dill, saffron, balsam, cardamom, and cinnamon. The liquor resulting from this is added to the wine and inhibits intoxication to such an extent that, by working on the spirits, it even dispels sexual desire.

32

Reading monon for monoi.

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II LOGIC F 112-124 R3
F 112 R3 (Alexander, Commentarius in Topica 63.11-13): But problems put forward in this way are physical problems, as he [sc. Aristotle] has said in his On Problems; for physical phenomena whose causes are unknown constitute physical problems. F 114 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, III 80): Plato, Aristotle says, used to divide things in this way: of goods, some are in the soul, some in the body, some external. For example, justice, wisdom, courage, temperance, and the like are in the soul; beauty, good condition, health, and strength in the body; friends, the happiness of ones country, and wealth fall among external goods. F 114 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, III 109): Thus of existing things, some exist in their own right, others are relative. And according to Aristotle, he [Plato] used to divide the primary things too in this way. F 116 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in Categorias 65.2-10): But in which [sc. category] are negations, privations, and the various inexions of the verb to be placed? This question Aristotle himself answered in his Notes. For in his Methodics, in his Divisions, and in another set of Notes entitled On Language (which, even if it is thought by some not to be a genuine work of Aristotle, is at all events the work of some member of the school)in all of these, after putting forward the categories, he adds I mean these with their cases (i.e. inexions), and he connects his exposition of them with negations, privations, and indenite terms. F 117 R3 (Ammonius, Commentarius in Categorias 13.20-25): It should be known that in the old libraries forty books of Analytics have been found and two of Categories. One began: Of existing things, some are called homonymous, others synonymous. The other is the one now before us. . . . This version has been preferred as being superior in order and in matter, and as everywhere proclaiming Aristotle as its begetter. F 118 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in Categorias 387.17-388.1): But now that the language of Aristotle has been claried, let us see what the more famous interpreters make of the passage. For since the Stoics pride themselves on their working out of logical problems, they are anxious in the matter of

FRAGMENTS: II: LOGIC

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contrariesas well as in all other mattersto show that Aristotle furnished the starting point for everything in one book which he called On Opposites, in which there is an immense number of problems set forth. Of these the Stoics have set out a small portion: the rest it would not be reasonable to include in an introduction, but those which the Stoics set out in agreement with Aristotle must be mentioned. There has been laid down an ancient denition of contraries, which we have mentioned previously, viz. that they are the things which differ most from one another within a genus: in his work On Opposites Aristotle subjected this denition to all kinds of tests, and amended it. He asked whether things that differ are contraries, and whether difference can be contrariety, and whether complete divergence is maximum difference, and whether the things that are furthest apart are identical with those that differ most, and what distance is, and how we are to understand maximum distance. Since all this proves to lead to absurdity, something must be added to the genus, so that the denition comes to be the things that are furthest apart in the same genus. He pointed out the absurdities consequent upon this; he asked whether contrariety is otherness,33 and whether the things that are most different are contraries, and added many other criticisms. . . . [388.13-14] This is only a small part of the difculties raised by Aristotle in his work On Opposites. F 119 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in Categorias 389.5-10): He [sc. Aristotle] in his book On Opposites says that justice is contrary to injustice, but that the just man is not said to be contrary, but to be contrarily disposed, to the unjust man. If these too are contraries, he says, contrary will be used in two ways: things will be called contraries either in themselves, like excellence and badness, movement and rest, or by virtue of sharing in contraries, e.g. that which moves and that which rests, or the good and the bad. F 120 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in Categorias 389.28-390.5): This distinction was rst drawn by Aristotle, who held that a simple term is not contrary to the denition of its contrary, e.g. that wisdom is not contrary to ignorance of things good, bad and neutral; but that, if there is contrariety here at all, denition is to be opposed to denition, and the denitions should be said to be contrary by being denitions of contrary things. He elaborates further on this by saying that a denition is contrary to a denition if their subjects are contrary in genus or in differentiae or in both; e.g. let the denition of beauty be mutual symmetry of parts; mutual asymmetry of parts is contrary to this, and the contrariety is in respect of the genus; but in other cases it is by virtue of differentiae: e.g. white is colour that pierces the sight, black is colour that compresses itin these
33

Reading eterotes.

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the genus is the same, but there is contrariety in respect of the differentiae. F 121 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in Categorias 390.19-25): Aristotle himself in his book On Opposites considered whether if someone who has lost one of two things does not of necessity gain the other, there must be something between the two; or whether this is not in all cases so. For a man who has lost a true opinion does not necessarily acquire a false one, nor does he who has lost a false one necessarily acquire a truesometimes you pass from one opinion to a complete absence of opinion or else to knowledge. But there is nothing between true and false opinion, if ignorance and knowledge are not. F 122 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in Categorias 402.30-403.1): Aristotle took his distinction between state and privation not from the realm of custom but from that of nature, where the antithesis of state and privation is properly applied. . . . In his book On Opposites he himself says that some privations are privations of natural states, others of customary states, others of possessions, others of certain other thingsblindness a privation of a natural state, nakedness a privation of a customary state, loss of money a privation of something acquired in practice. There are several other types of privation, and some it is impossible some possible to lose. F 124 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in Categorias 409.30-410.2): In the book On Opposites he added to these types of contrariety also that of things neither good nor bad to things neither good nor bad, saying that it is in this way that white is contrary to black, sweet to bitter, high to low, rest to movement.

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III RHETORIC AND POETICS F 125-179 R3

F 136 R3 (Cicero, de inventione II ii 6-7): Aristotle brought together in a single compilation the ancient writers on the art of rhetoric, going right back to their founder and inventor, Tisias; with great care he sought out the main tenets of each author name by name, wrote them down clearly, and meticulously expounded the difcult passages. And with the charm and brevity of his diction he so excelled the inventors themselves that no-one looks to learn their precepts from the original books, but everyone who wants to understand what they were resorts to Aristotle as a far more convenient expositor. Thus Aristotle published his own views and also those of his predecessors, so that from this work we become acquainted both with his own views and with the others. F 137 R3 (Cicero, Brutus XII 46-48): Eloquence is the companion of peace, the ally of leisure, and, so to say, the offspring of a well-ordered state. And for this reason, Aristotle says, it was when the tyrants in Sicily had been removed and restitution in private matters was after a long interval being sought in the courts, that for the rst timesince that people was sharp and born to controversythe Sicilians Corax and Tisias wrote Arts and Precepts of rhetoric; for before that no-one was accustomed to speak with the methodical application of technique, although there were several who spoke carefully and precisely. Some discussions of important topicswhat are now called commonplaceswere written and prepared by Protagoras; Gorgias too did the same thing, writing speeches in praise and condemnation of particular topics, because he thought that the ability to inate a topic with praise and again to belittle it with disparagement was the most essential part of being an orator; Antiphon of Rhamnous produced some similar works (and Thucydides, a reliable source, who actually heard him, says that no-one ever offered a better defence against a capital charge than he did when defending himself). Lysias indeed began by claiming to be versed in the art of rhetoric; but later, seeing that Theodorus was more sophisticated in matter of theory though weaker in his speeches, he took to writing speeches for others and abandoned theory; in a similar fashion, Isocrates began by denying that there was any art of rhetoric, during which period he wrote speeches for others to use in the law-courts; but when he found himself repeatedly in court

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on a charge of breaking the law against circumvention by judicial procedure, he gave up writing speeches for others and devoted himself entirely to composing Arts. F 140 R3 (Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Isocrates XVIII 576-77): Let no-one suppose that I do not know either that Aphareus (who was an ancestor of mine and was adopted by Isocrates) claimed in his speech against Megacleides on the Antidosis that his father wrote no speeches for the law-courts, or that Aristotle says that a large number of volumes of Isocrates forensic speeches were published by the book-sellers. I am indeed aware of these mens statements, and I neither believe Aristotle (because he wanted to discredit the man) nor fall in with Aphareus (who was putting together a ne-seeming speech on his behalf). I think that Cephisodorus the Athenian is a sufcient judge of the truth here: he lived with Isocrates, was a most faithful pupil, and made a splendid speech for the defence in the counter-pleas against Aristotle. And so I believe that Isocrates did write some speeches for the law-courtsbut not many. F 144 R3 (Athenaeus, 556DF): One might be surprised, Aristotle says, that nowhere in the Iliad did Homer portray a concubine sleeping with Menelaus, yet presented everyone else with women. Indeed, even the old menNestor and Phoenixsleep with women according to him. For they had not exhausted their bodies in their youth through drunkenness or sex or even through the dyspeptic effects of gluttony, and so not unnaturally they are enjoying a vigorous old age. Thus the Spartan seems to respect his wife Helen, on whose behalf he had actually collected the army; and this is why he avoids sleeping with any other women. Agamemnon is disparaged by Thersites as a womaniser. . . . But it is hardly likely, Aristotle says, that this number of women was for useit was rather a mark of status; after all, it was not for getting drunk that he had a large supply of wine. F 149 R3 (Porphyry, apud Scholiast to Homer, Iliad III 277): Why, having said the sun looks over all things and hears all things, did Homer portray him as needing a messenger in the case of his oxen?. . . Aristotle resolves this by saying that it is either because the sun indeed sees all things but not at one and the same time; or because Lampetia was messenger to the sun in the way sight is to man; or because, he says, it was appropriate to speak in this way both for Agamemnon when swearing the oath in the Single Combat and sun, you who look over all things and hear all thingsand for Odysseus when addressing his companions; for he does not also see what goes on in Hades. F 160 R3 (Porphyry, apud Scholiast to Homer, Iliad X 153): The placing of the spears on their spikes is thought to be poor; especially

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since a single one of them, by falling over, had already created panic everywhere at night. Aristotle resolves this by saying that Homer always portrays things as they were at that time. And the ancient practice was the same as present practice among the barbarians; and this is the custom of many of the barbarians. F 161 R3 (Porphyry, apud Scholiast to Homer, Iliad X 252): For example, it is agreed that the following is one of the old puzzles: and now the star had advanced, and more than two parts of the night had passed, and a third part still remained. For how is it that if two parts and more have gone, yet the third part is left and not a fraction of the third?. . . Aristotle thinks to resolve it as follows, where he says: Division into two may in this case be division into equal parts. Now since34 what is more than half is indeterminate, when it is increased to such an extent that a third of the whole is left, a stickler for accuracy would determine this and indicate how much remains in order to make clear by how much the half of the whole has been increased. For example, 3 is half of 6. If 6 were divided into two equal parts, they will be 3. If one part is increased, it is unclear whether this is by a fraction or by a whole unit. Now if it becomes larger by a whole unit35 , the part still remaining will be a third of the whole; and if you say one of the two parts became more and left a third part, you indicate that the increase has been by a unitsince the three have become four and there remain two, which is a third of the original six. Now since the twelve parts of night can be divided into two equal divisionsinto sixesand one of these parts was increased and became larger, and it was unclear by how many hours it had been increased (for the increase could have been by one, two, three, or more hours), the poet determines the size of this indeterminate more and, because it was increased by two hours, he adds that a third was leftsince eight hours have gone by and four remain, which is a third of the whole. Thus too, if something had 18 parts (dividing into two nines) and you were to say that more than one part of the two-part division has gone and the third part remains, you would make clear, by saying that the third (i.e. 6) remains, that you mean that 12 have been taken. Suppose we ask the same question of the hours of a full day, and suppose someone to say that more than one part of the two-part division of the hours has passedstill without determining how muchand to add that the third part of the whole remains: it is clear that, since the two-part division is into 12 and 12 and a third of the whole (i.e. 8) remains, the more of the one part amounts to 4, so that 16 hours have passed in all and 8 remain. Thus when there is
34 35

Reading epei de, and placing a comma before hotan. Comma after genetai, no comma after apoleipomenon.

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a division into two and into three equal parts, anyone who adds to one part of the two-part division and leaves a third of the three-part division, determines in how much more the increase consists. Thus the poet cleverly indicates how large the indeterminate part36 of the increase of the half wasthat it consisted of two hours and that the eighth hour has passed37 by saying and a third part still remained. For, if you know that the night contains 12 hours in all, and that division into two parts gives 6 and 6, and division into three 4 and 4 and 4,38 and if you hear that more than one part of the two-part division has passed and then learn that a third of the three-part division, i.e. 4 hours, remains, you know at once that two hours have gone by since midnight. F 166 R3 (Porphyry, apud Scholiast to Homer, Iliad XXIV 15): Why did Achilles go on dragging Hector around the tomb of Patroclus, treating the corpse contrary to established custom? There is a solution, Aristotle says, referring to the customs of the timethey were like that, since even today in Thessaly men drag [corpses] around the tombs. F 170 R3 (Scholiast to Homer, Odyssey V 93): And she mixed red nectar: If the gods drink nothing but nectar, why does Calypso give it to Hermes after mixing it? For if it has been mixed with water, they drink not only nectar but water also. And yet, he says, she served him plain ambrosia and mixed red nectar. Now Aristotle in resolving this says that she mixed means either to combine one liquid with another one or to pour out; for to mix means both. So here and she mixed red nectar means not to combine but simply to pour out. F 171 R3 (Scholiast to Homer, Odyssey V 334): Aristotle asks why he speaks of Calypso and Circe and Ino alone as having speech (audeessa); for all the others had voices. He did not want to solve this, but emends the text, in some places to auleessaby which he says is meant that they were solitaryand in the case of Ino to oudeessafor this characteristic belonged to all and only these people since they all resided on earth. F 172 R3 (Scholiast to Homer, Odyssey IX 106): Aristotle asks how Polyphemus the Cyclops was a Cyclops himself when neither his father (who was Poseidon) nor his mother was a Cyclops. He himself solves it by reference to another myth; for horses were sired by Boreas, and the horse Pegasus had Poseidon and Medusa as parents.
36 37

Omitting triton. Text uncertain. 38 Adding kai d.

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F 175 R3 (Eustathius, 1717, on Homer, Odyssey XII 130): It should be recognized that they say that Aristotle gives an allegorical account of these herds, and especially of the herds of oxen, associating them with the days of the twelve lunar months, which number three hundred and fty; for that is also the number of the seven herds which each contain fty beasts. That is why Homer says that they neither are born nor die; for those days never vary in amount.

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IV ETHICS F 180-184 R3
F 182 R3 (David, Prolegomena Philosophiae 74.17-25): He [sc. Aristotle] also wrote on economy, where he discusses household management (he says there that four things must come together in a household: the relation of man to wife, love of father for children, fear of slaves for masters, and that expenditure be commensurate with incomefor each lack of measure is ignoble: if income is found to be large, expenditure small, there is something ignoblesuch a man is found to be miserly; if income is small, expenditure large, there is something ignoblesuch a man is found to be extravagant). F 183 R3 (Clement, Paedagogus III xii 84): I would advise even married men not to kiss their wives at home in front of the servants; for Aristotle does not even allow us to laugh in front of our slaves, still less to let our wives be seen to be embraced in their presence.

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V PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS F 185-208 R3

F 185 R3 (Syrianus, Commentarius in Metaphysica 120.33-121.4): That he [sc. Aristotle] has nothing more than this to say against the theory of Forms is shown both by the rst book of this treatise [i.e. the Metaphysics] and by the two books he wrote On the Forms; for it is by taking everywhere practically these same arguments, and sometimes cutting them up and subdividing them, sometimes putting them forward more concisely, that he tries to correct his predecessors in philosophy. F 186 R3 (Scholiast to Dionysius Thrax, 116.13-16 Hilgard): And one must realize that it is of universals and things eternal that there are denitions, as Aristotle too has said in On Ideas, which he wrote against Platos Ideas. For while particular things all change and never remain in the same condition, universals are unchangeable and eternal. (Alexander, Commentarius in Metaphysica 79.3-88.2): They [sc. the Platonists] made further use of the sciences in establishing the Ideas, and in more ways than one, as he [sc. Aristotle] says in the rst book of On Ideas; and the arguments he seems to have in mind at the present moment [i.e. in the Metaphysics] are the following sort. If every science performs its task by referring to some one and the same thing and not to any of the particulars, then there will be with respect to each science something different apart from perceptible individuals, eternal and a pattern for the things produced in each science; and such a thing is the Idea. Again, the things of which there are sciences exist; the sciences are of certain different things apart from particulars (for the latter are innite and indeterminate, while the sciences are of determinate things); so there are certain things apart from particulars, and these are the Ideas. Again, if medicine is not a science of this particular health but of health simply, there will be a certain healthitself; and if geometry is not a science of this particular equal and this particular commensurate, but of equal simply and the commensurate simply, there will be a certain equal-itself and a commensurate-itself; and these are the Ideas. Now such arguments do not prove the thesis at issue, which was that there are Ideas; but they do prove that there are certain things apart from particulars and perceptibles. But it does not follow that if there are certain things which are apart from particulars, these are Ideas; for the common objects, which we say are also

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the objects of the sciences, are apart from the particulars. Again, these arguments show that there are also Ideas of the things that fall under the arts. For every art too refers what is produced by it to some one thing, and things of which there are arts exist, and the arts are of certain different things apart from particulars. And the second argument, besides equally failing to prove that there are Ideas, will also be thought to establish Ideas of things for which they do not wish there to be Ideas. For if, because medicine is not a science of this particular health but of health simply, there is some thing health-itself, then such will be the case also in each of the arts. For an art is not of the particular nor of this, but of that simply which is its concern, e.g. carpentry is of chair simply but not of this particular one, and of bed simply but not of this particular one; and sculpture, painting, building, and each of the other arts are similarly related to the things that fall under them. So there will be an Idea of each of the things that fall under the artswhich they do not want. They also use the following argument to establish the Ideas. If each of the many men is a man, and each of the animals is an animal, and similarly in the other cases; and if in the case of each of these it is not that something is predicated of itself but that some one thing is being predicated of all of them while not being the same as any one of them, then there will be something which is apart from the particulars which exist, separated from them and eternal; for it is predicated always alike of all the changing particulars. And that which is one over many, both separated from them and eternal, is an Idea; so there are Ideas. This argument, he [sc. Aristotle] says, establishes Ideas even of negations and of things that do not exist. For one and the same negation is predicated of many things and of things which do not exist, and is not the same as any one of the things which it is truly predicated of. For not-man is predicated of horse and of dog and of everything apart from man, and for this reason is one thing over many and is not the same as any one of the things of which it is predicated. Again, it always remains alike true of like things; for not-musical is true of many things (of everything non-musical), and similarly not-man of non-men; consequently, there are Ideas also of negations. But that is absurd; for how could there be an Idea of non-being? For if one were to accept that, there would be a single Idea for things that are of different kinds and that differ in every respectof, as it might be, line and man; for all these are non-horses. Again, there will be a single Idea both of things that are indeterminate and of things that are innite. But also of what is primary and what is secondary; for both man and animal are non-wood, of which the one is primary, the other secondaryand they did not want there to be either genera or Ideas of such things. Clearly, this argument too fails to show that there

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are Ideas; but it too tends to show that what is commonly predicated is other than the particulars of which it is predicated. Again, the very people who wish to prove that what is commonly predicated of several things is some single thing and in fact an Idea, try to establish it from negations. For if someone in denying something of several things will do so by referring to some single thing (for someone who says of a man that he is not white and of a horse that it is not white is not in each case denying something peculiar to it but is making reference to some single thing and denying the same white of each), then someone in afrming the same thing of several things will not be afrming something different in each case but there will be some single thing which he is afrming, e.g. man, with reference to some one and the same thing; for as with negation so with afrmation. So there is something that is different apart from what is in the perceptibles, which is the cause of the afrmation that is both true of several things and common, and this is the Idea. Now this argument, he says, produces Ideas not only of things that are afrmed but also of things that are denied; for in both cases there is a similar reference to something single. The argument that tries to establish that there are Ideas from thinking is as follows. If whenever we think of man or footed or animal, we are thinking of something that is both among the things that exist yet is not one of the particulars (for when the latter have perished the same thought remains), clearly there is something apart from particulars and perceptibles, which we think of whether the latter exist or not; for we are certainly not then thinking of something nonexistent. And this is a Form and an Idea. Now he says that this argument also establishes Ideas of things that are perishing and have perished, and in general of things that are both particulars and perishablee.g. of Socrates, of Plato; for we think of these men and keep some image of them even when they no longer exist. And indeed we also think of things that do not exist at all, like a Hippocentaur, a Chimaera: consequently neither does this argument show that there are Ideas. The argument that tries to establish Ideas from relatives is as follows. In those cases where some same thing is predicated of several things not homonymously but as revealing some single nature, it is true of them either by their strictly being what is indicated by what is predicated, as when we say Socrates is a man and Plato is; or by their being likenesses of the genuine things, as when we predicate man of painted men (for in the case of these latter we reveal the likenesses of men by indicating the same particular nature in all of them); or on the grounds of one of them being the pattern, while the rest are likenesses, as if we were to call both Socrates and likenesses of him men. And we predicate the equal itself of things here, although it is predicated of them only homonymously; for neither

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does the same account t all of them, nor do we indicate things that are truly equal; for among perceptibles quantity changes and shifts continuously and is not determinate. Nor moreover do any of the things here accurately receive the account of the equal. And no more indeed on the grounds of one of them being pattern, the other likeness; for one is no more pattern or likeness than the other. And even if someone were to accept that the likeness is not homonymous with its pattern, it still follows that these equal things are equal as likenesses of that which is strictly and truly equal. And if this is the case, there is some equal itself quite strictly, relative to which things here, as likenesses, are both produced and called equal, and this is an Idea, a pattern for those things which are produced relative to it. This argument, Aristotle says, establishes Ideas even of relative terms. At any rate the present proof has been advanced in the case of the equal, which is a relative; but they used to say that there were no Ideas of relatives because while Ideas, being for them kinds of substances, existed in their own right, relatives had their being in their relationship to one another. And again, if the equal is equal to an equal, there will be more than one Idea of the equal; for the equal-itself is equal to an equal-itself; for if it were not equal to something, it would not be equal at all. Again, by the same argument there will have to be Ideas of unequals too; for opposites are in a similar casethere will or will not be Ideas of both; and the unequal is admitted by them too to involve more things than one. The argument which introduces the third man is as follows. They say that what are commonly predicated of substances both are strictly such things and are Ideas. And again, things that are like each other are like each other by sharing in the same certain thing, which is strictly the thing in question; and this is the Idea. But if this is the case, and what is commonly predicated of certain things, if it is not the same as any one of those things of which it is predicated, is some other thing apart from it (for that is why man-himself is a genusbecause while being predicated of the particulars it is not the same man as any of them), then there will be some third man apart both from the particular, e.g. Socrates and Plato, and from the Idea; and this too will be itself one in number. And there was an argument presented by the sophists introducing the third man as follows. If when we say a man is walking we are saying neither that man as an Idea is walking (for the Idea is not capable of motion) nor that some particular individual is (how could we when we do not know who it is? For while we know that a man is walking we do not know which particular man it is of whom we are saying it), we are saying that some other third man apart from these is walking: so there will be a third man of whom we predicated the walking.

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Now this argument, which is sophistical, is given encouragement by those who separate what is common from the particulars, as those who posit the Ideas do. And Phanias says, in Against Diodorus, that the sophist Polyxenus introduced the third man by saying If it is both by participation and sharing in the Idea, i.e. in man-himself, that man exists, then there must be some man who will have his existence relative to the Idea. But neither man-himself, i.e. the Idea, exists by participation in the Idea, nor does any particular man. It remains then that there is some third man who has his existence relative to the Idea. The third man is proved also in the following way. If what is predicated truly of several particulars is also something other apart from the things of which it is predicated, separated from them (for it is this that those who posit the Ideas think to prove; for in their opinion man-himself is something because man is predicated truly of particular men, who are more than one in number, and is different from these particular men)but if this is so, there will be some third man. For if the man that is predicated is different from those of whom he is predicated, and exists on his own, and man is predicated both of the particular men and of the Idea, then there will be some third man apart both from the particular and from the Idea. On this basis there will be also a fourth man, predicated of the third man, of the Idea, and of the particulars; and similarly also a fth, and so on ad innitum. This argument is the same as the rst; this comes about for them because they supposed that like things were like by sharing in the same thing; for both men and the Ideas are like. Now he refuted both these arguments though they were thought to be rather rened, the one on the grounds that it established Ideas even of relative terms, and the other because it introduces a third man and then multiplies men to innity. And a similar multiplication will be suffered by any of the other things of which they say there are Ideas. While others have used the rst exposition of the third manthere is a specially clear use by Eudemus in his On Dictionthe last was used by Aristotle himself both in the rst book of On Ideas and a little later on in the present work [i.e. the Metaphysics]. Now they are morein fact mostconcerned to establish that there are rst principles; for rst principles are for them rst principles of the Ideas themselves. And the one and indenite dyad are rst principles, as he has said a little earlier and has himself explained in his On the Good; but in their view these are the rst principles of number too. Now he says that these arguments for establishing the Ideas destroy these rst principles. And if these are destroyed, the things after the rst principles will also be destroyed, given that they come from the rst principles; so consequently the Ideas too will be. For if in the case of all things which have a common predicate it

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is both separated and an Idea, and if the dyad is predicated of the indenite dyad too, there will be something primary and an Idea of this latter; and consequently the indenite dyad will no longer be a rst principle. But nor will the dyad in its turn be both primary and a rst principle; for number is predicated of it in its turn since it is an Idea; for the Ideas are assumed by them to be numbers: consequently number, being a kind of Idea, will be primary for them. And if this is so, number will be prior to the indenite dyad, which is for them a rst principle, but not the dyad to number; and if this is so, the dyad would no longer be a rst principle, if it is what it is by sharing in something. Again, while it is assumed to be a rst principle of number, yet according to the argument just stated number becomes prior to it; but if number is relative (for every number is a number of something), and number is rst of the things that exist, given that it is prior even to the dyad which they assumed as a rst principle, then on their view what is relative will be prior to what exists in its own right. And that is absurd; for everything relative is secondary. For a relative indicates the condition of a pre-existing nature, which is prior to that condition which happens to belong to it. . . . But even if someone were to say that number is a quantity and not a relative, it would have as a consequence that quantity was prior to substance. Again, they are committed to saying that what is relative is both a rst principle of and prior to what exists in its own right, in so far as the Idea is in their view a rst principle of substances, and what it is for an Idea to be an Idea lies in its being a pattern, and a pattern is relative; for a pattern is a pattern of something. Again, if being for Ideas lies in their being patterns, then things that come into being in relation to them and of which they are Ideas will be likenesses of them; and so someone might say that according to them all naturally constituted things become relative; for all things are likenesses and patterns. Again, if being for Ideas lies in their being patterns, and a pattern exists for the sake of what comes into being relative to it, and what exists on account of something else is less worthy than that thing, then the Ideas will be less worthy than what comes into being relative to them. The following are some of the arguments which, in addition to those already stated, through the positing of Ideas destroy their rst principles. If what is commonly predicated of certain things is both the rst principle and Idea of those things, and if rst principle is commonly predicated of the rst principles and element of the elements, there will be something prior to and a rst principle of the rst principles and of the elements; and in this way there will be neither rst principles nor elements. Again Idea is not prior to Idea; for all Ideas similarly are rst principles. And the one-itself and the dyad-itself are alike Ideasas is man-itself

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and horse-itself and each of the other Ideas; so there will not be any of these that is prior to any otherso that none will be a rst principle either; so it is not the case that the one and the indenite dyad are rst principles. Again, it is absurd that an Idea should be given form by an Idea; for all are Forms; but if the one and the indenite dyad are rst principles, there will be Ideas given form by Ideas; for the dyad-itself will be given form by the one-itself; for it is in this way that they say that these are rst principlesin the sense that one is form, the dyad matter; so these are not rst principles. And if they say that the indenite dyad is not an Idea, then rst there will be something prior to it although it is a rst principle; for there is the dyad-itself, by sharing in which even this is a dyad, since this is not the dyad-itself; for it is by virtue of sharing that dyad will be predicated of it, since the same goes for particular dyads. Again, if the Ideas are simple, they will not come from different rst principles, but the one and the indenite dyad are different. Again, the number of dyads will be amazing if one is the dyad-itself, another the indenite dyad, another the mathematical dyad, which we use in counting and which is not the same as either of the former, and again besides these another in numerable and perceptible things. This is absurd; so that clearly by following the very assumptions made by them it is possible to destroy the rst principles, which are for them more important than the Ideas. (Alexander, Commentarius in Metaphysica 97.27-98.24): That it is not, as Eudoxus and some others thought, by mixture with the Ideas that other things exist: Aristotle says it is easy to infer many impossibilities as consequences of this opinion. If the Ideas are mixed with the other things, in the rst place, they will be bodies; for it is of bodies that there is mixture. Again, they will be contrary to each other; for mixture occurs with respect to contrariety. Again, mixture will occur in such a way that either a whole Idea will be in each of the things with which it is mixed or else part of one. But if a whole, then what is one in number will be in several things; for an Idea is one in number. While if in parts, a man will be what participates in a part of man-himself, not what participates in man-himself as a whole. Again, Ideas will be divisible and partible, although they are impassive. Then they will be uniform if all things which have some part from it are like each other. But how can the Forms be uniform? For part of man cannot be a man, as a part of gold is gold. Again, as Aristotle himself says a little later [sc. in the Metaphysics], in each thing there will not be one Idea mixed but many; for if there is one Idea of animal and another of man, and a man is both an animal and a man, he will participate in both Ideas. And man-himself, the Idea, insofar as it is also an animal, will also itself participate in animal; and consequently the Ideas will no longer be simple but composed from

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many, and some of them primary, others secondary. But if it is not an animal, surely it is absurd to say that man is not an animal? And again, if they are mixed with things that are relative to them, how can they still be patterns, as they say they are? For it is not in this way, as the result of a mixture, that patterns are causes of the similarity that their likenesses have to them. And again, they will be destroyed along with the destruction of the things they are in. Nor yet will they be in themselves separable, but will be in the things that participate in them. In addition to these points, they will no longer be unchangeableand all the other absurdities which Aristotle in his examination of this opinion in the second book of his On Ideas showed it to have. For it was for this reason that he said for it is easy to infer many impossibilities against this viewfor they were inferred there. F 191 R3 (Apollonius, historiae mirabiles 6): Again in Caulonia, according to Aristotle . . .39 in addition to much other information about him, he says that in Tyrrhenia he killed a deadly biting snake by biting it himself. He also says that Pythagoras foretold to the Pythagoreans the coming political strife; that is why he departed to Metapontum unobserved by anyone, and while he was crossing the Cosas he, with others, heard the river say Good morning, Pythagorasand those present were terried. He once appeared both at Croton and at Metapontum on the same day and at the same hour. Once, while sitting in the theatre, he stood upso Aristotle tellsand showed those sitting there his own thigh, which was golden. F 191 R3 (Aelian, varia historia II 26): Aristotle says that Pythagoras was called by the people of Croton the Hyperborean Apollo. The son of Nicomachus adds that Pythagoras was once seen by many people, on the same day and at the same hour, both at Metapontum and at Croton; and at Olympia, during the games, he got up and showed that one of his thighs was golden.40 The same writer says that while crossing the river Cosas he was hailed by the river, and that many people heard him so hailed. F 192 R3 (Iamblichus, vita pythagorica VI 31): Aristotle relates in his books On the Pythagorean Philosophy that the following division was preserved by the Pythagoreans as one of their greatest secrets: of rational living creatures, some are gods, some men, and some beings like Pythagoras. F 193 R3 (Apuleius, de deo Socratis XX 166-7):
39 40

There is a lacuna here. Text uncertain.

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But I suppose Aristotle is a sufcient witness to the fact that the Pythagoreans marvelled greatly at anyone who said he had never seen a divine being. F 194 R3 (Aulus Gellius, IV xi 12): Since the fact is unexpected, I add Plutarchs own words: Aristotle says the Pythagoreans abstain from eating womb and heart, the sea anemone, and certain other such things, but use all other kinds. F 194 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, VIII 19): Aristotle says that at times they [sc. the Pythagoreans] abstain from womb and red mullet. F 195 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, VIII 34): Aristotle says in his work On the Pythagoreans that he [sc. Pythagoras] enjoyed abstention from beans either because they are like the genitals or because they are like the gates of Hades . . .41 (for they alone have no joints), or because they are destructive, or because they are like the nature of the universe, or because they are oligarchical (being used in the choice of rulers by lot). F 196 R3 (Porphyry, Vita Pythagorae 41): Pythagoras used to say certain things in a mystical and symbolic way, and Aristotle has recorded many of these; e.g. that he called the sea the tears of Cronos, the Bears the hands of Rhea, the Pleiades the lyre of the Muses, the planets the dogs of Persephone; the ringing sound of bronze when struck was, he said, the voice of a divine being imprisoned in the bronze. F 197 R3 (Porphyry, Vita Pythagorae 42): There was also another kind of symbol, of the following sort: Do not step over a balance, i.e. do not be covetous: Do not poke the re with a sword, i.e. do not vex with sharp words a man swollen with anger; Do not pluck the crown, i.e. do not offend against the laws which are the crowns of cities. Or again, Do not eat heart, i.e. do not vex yourself with grief: Do not sit on the corn ration, i.e. do not live in idleness; When on a journey do not turn back, i.e. when you are dying, do not cling to this life; Do not walk the highway, i.e. do not follow the opinions of the many but pursue those of the few and educated; Do not receive swallows in your house, i.e. do not take into your house talkative men who cannot control their tongues; Add to the burdens of the burdened, do not lighten them, i.e. contribute to no mans sloth, but to his excellence; Do not carry images of the gods in your rings, i.e. do not make your thought and speech about the gods manifest and obvious, nor show it to many; Make your libations to the gods at the ear of the cup, i.e. celebrate and honour the gods with music,
41

There is a lacuna in the text.

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for this goes through the ears. F 198 R3 (Martianus Capella, VII 731): (Philosophy speaks). Although Aristotle, one of my followers, reasoning from the fact that it [sc. the unit] itself is one alone and wishes always to be sought after, asserts that it is called Desire because it desires itself, since it has nothing beyond itself and, never carried beyond itself or linked with other things, turns its own ardours on itself. F 199 R3 (Theo of Smyrna, p. 22. 5-9 Hiller): But Aristotle in his Pythagoreans says that the One partakes of the nature of both; for added to an even number it makes an odd, and added to an odd an even, which it could not do if it did not share in both natures; and that for this reason the One was called even-odd. F 200 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in de Caelo, 386.20-23): Right, above and before they called good, and left, below and behind evil, as Aristotle himself related in his collection of Pythagorean doctrines. F 201 R3 (Stobaeus, Eclogae I xviii 1c): In the rst book of his work On the Philosophy of Pythagoras Aristotle writes that the heaven is one, and that time and breath and the void, which divides for ever the regions of different things, are drawn in from the innite. F 202 R3 (Alexander, Commentarius in Metaphysica 75.15-17): Of the arrangement in the heavens which the Pythagoreans assigned to the numbers, Aristotle informs us in the second book of his work On the Belief of the Pythagoreans. F 203 R3 (Alexander, Commentarius in Metaphysica 38.8-41.2): He [sc. Aristotle] has shown what likenesses the Pythagoreans said there were between numbers and the things that exist and come into being; for assuming that reciprocity and equality were properties of justice and nding them to exist in numbers, they said, for this reason, that the rst square number was justice, for in every case the rst of a number of things that admit of the same denition is most truly that which it is said to be. Now this number some declared to be the number 4, because, being the rst square number, it is divided into equals and is itself equal (being twice 2), while others declared it to be the number 9, which is the rst square number produced by multiplying an odd number (3) by itself. Again, they said the number 7 was season; for natural things seem to have their perfect seasons of birth and completion in terms of sevens, as in the case of man. Men are born after seven months, they begin to grow their teeth in seven months, they reach puberty about the end of the second set of seven years, and grow beards about the end of the third. The sun, too, since it is itself thought to be (as he says)

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the cause of seasons, they maintain to be established where the number 7 resides, which they identify with season; for the sun holds the seventh place among the ten bodies that move round the centre and hearth of the universe; it moves after the sphere of the xed stars and the ve spheres of the planets; after it come the moon, eighth, and the earth, ninth, and after the earth the counter-earth. Since the number 7 neither generates nor is generated by any of the numbers in the decad, for this reason they also said that it was Athene. For the number 2 generates 4, 3 generates 9 and 6, 4 generates 8, and 5 generates 10, and 4, 6, 8, 9 and 10 are generated, but 7 neither generates any number nor is generated from any; and so too Athene was motherless and ever virgin. Marriage, they said, was the number 5, because it is the union of male and female, and according to them the odd is male and the even female, and 5 is the rst number generated from the rst even number, 2, and the rst odd number, 3; for the odd is for them (as I said) male, and the even female. Mind (which was the name they42 gave to soul) and substance they identied with the One. Because it was unchanging, alike everywhere, and a ruling principle they called mind both a unit and one; but they also applied these names to substance, because it is primary. Opinion they identied with the number 2 because it can move in both directions; they also called it movement and addition. Picking out such likenesses between things and numbers, they assumed numbers to be the rst principles of things, saying that all things are composed of numbers. But they also saw the harmonies to be constituted according to particular numbers, and said that numbers were the rst principles of these also; the octave depends on the ratio 2:1, the fth on the ratio 3:2, the fourth on the ratio 4:3. They said, too, that the whole universe is constructed in accordance with a certain harmony . . . because it consists of numbers and is constructed in accordance with number and harmony. For the bodies that move round the centre have their distances in a certain ratio, and some move faster and others slower, and in their movement the slower strike a deep note and the faster a high one, and these notes, being proportionate to the distances, make the resultant sound harmonious; and since they said that number was the rst principle of this harmony, they naturally made number the rst principle of the heavens and of the universe. For they thought the sun to be, say, twice as far from the earth as the moon, Venus to be three times as far, Mercury four times, and each of the others to be in a certain ratio, and the movement of the heavens to be harmonious, and the bodies that move the greatest distance to move the fastest, those that move the least distance the slowest, and the intermediate bodies to move in proportion to the size of their
42

Reading eipon.

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orbit. On the basis of these likenesses between things and numbers, they supposed existing things both to be composed of numbers and to be particular numbers. Thinking numbers to be prior to nature as a whole as to natural things (for nothing could either exist or be known at all without number, while numbers could be known even apart from other things), they laid it down that the elements and rst principles of numbers are the rst principles of all things. These elements were, as has been said, the even and the odd, of which they thought the odd to be limited and the even unlimited; of numbers they thought the unit was the rst principle, composed of both the even and the odd; for the unit was at the same time even-odd, which he used to prove from its power of generating both odd and even number: added to an even it generates an odd, added to an odd it generates an even. As regards the agreements which they found between numbers and harmonious combinations on the one hand, and the attributes and parts of the heavens on the other, they took these for granted straight off, as being obvious, and showed that the heavens are composed of numbers and arranged in harmony. If any of the celestial phenomena seemed to fail to conform with the numerical principles, they made the necessary additions themselves and tried to ll the gap so as to make their whole treatment of the matter consistent. At least, treating the decad straight off as the perfect number, and seeing that in the visible world the moving spheres are nine in numberseven spheres of the planets, the eighth that of the xed stars, the ninth the earth (for this, too, they thought, moves in a circle about the resting hearth of the universe, which according to them is re)they added, in their system, a counter-earth, which they supposed to move in an opposite direction to the earth, and to be for that reason invisible to those on earth. Aristotle speaks of these matters both in the De Caelo and, with greater precision, in his Beliefs of the Pythagoreans. F 204 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in de Caelo 511.26-31): The Pythagoreans . . . do not say that the earth is about the centre, but that the centre of the universe is a re, and that about the centre the counter-earth moves, being itself an earth but called a counter-earth because it is on the opposite side to our earth. After the counter-earth came our earth, itself also moving about the centre, and after the earth the moon: so he himself [sc. Aristotle] relates in his work On the Pythagorean Doctrines. F 204 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in de Caelo 512.12-13): For this reason, some call it [sc. re] the tower of Zeus, as Aristotle himself related in his work On the Pythagorean Doctrines . . . F 205 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in de Caelo 392.16-32):

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How can he [sc. Aristotle] say that the Pythagoreans place us in the upper part and on the right side of the universe, and those opposite to us in the lower part and on the left side if, as he himself relates in the second book of his collection of Pythagorean doctrines, they say that one part of the whole universe is up and the other down, and that the lower part is right and the upper left, and that we are in the lower part? Is it that he has used the words upper and on the right here [sc. in the de Caelo] in accordance not with his own view but with that of the Pythagoreans? They coupled up and before with right, down and behind with left. But Alexander thinks that the statement in Aristotles collection of Pythagorean doctrines has been altered by someone and should run thusthe upper part of the universe is on the right, the lower part on the left, and we are in the upper part, not in the lower as the text now runs. In this way it will agree with what he says here, that we, who say we live in the lower part and therefore on the left side (since the lower part is coupled with the left side) are in opposition to the Pythagorean statement that we live in the upper part and on the right side. That the text has been altered is perhaps likely, since Aristotle knows that the Pythagoreans coupled the higher position with the right side and the lower with the left. F 206 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in de Caelo 296.16-18): In his epitome of Platos Timaeus he [sc. Aristotle] writes: He says it [sc. the universe] is generated; for it is perceptible, and he is assuming that what is perceptible is generated and that what is intelligible is not generated. F 207 R3 (Damascius, dubitationes et solutiones 306): Aristotle in his work on Archytas relates that Pythagoras too called matter other, as being in ux and always becoming other. F 208 R3 (Simplicius, Commentaria in de Caelo 294.33-295.22): A few words quoted from Aristotles On Democritus will reveal the line of thought of those men [sc. the Atomists]:Democritus thinks the nature of the eternal entities consists of small substances innite in number; he supposes a place for them, different from them and innite in extent, and to this he applies the names void, nothing, and the innite, while to each of the substances he applies the names thing, solid, and existent. He thinks the substances are so small as to escape our senses, but have all sorts of shapes and gures, and differences of size. From these, then,43 as from elements, are generated and compounded visible and perceptible masses. The substances are at variance and move in the void because of their dissimilarity as well as the other aforesaid differences, and as they move they collide with each other and interlock in such a way that,
43

Reading ede for edei.

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while they touch and get close to each other, yet a single substance is never in reality produced from them; for it would be very simple-minded to suppose that two or more things could ever become one. The cause of these substances remaining with one another for some time he ascribes to the bodies tting into one another and catching hold of one another; for some of them are scalene, others hook-shaped, others concave, others convex, and others have countless other differences. He thinks that they cling to one another and remain together until some stronger necessity arriving from the environment scatters them apart and separates them. He ascribes the genesis and the separation opposed to it not only to animals but also to plants, and to worlds, and generally to all perceptible bodies.

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VI PHYSICS F 209-278 R3
F 209 R3 (Aulus Gellius, XX iv 3-4): . . .I sent him words excerpted from a book of Aristotles entitled Standard Problems: Why are the Dionysian artists for the most part bad? Because they have hardly any share in reason and philosophy, since the great part of their life is involved in necessary skills, and because for a large part of the time they are in a state of incontinence, and sometimes in a state of povertyand both of these conditions incline to produce badness. F 211 R3 (Simplicius, Commentarius in de Caelo 505.23-25): Aristotle too makes this clear in his Scientic Problems, where he raises puzzles for the assumptions of the astronomers from the fact that the sizes of the planets do not appear equal. F 214 R3 (Aulus Gellius, XIX v 9): I have extracted from the book a few of Aristotles own words and written them down: Why is water from snow and ice bad? Because whenever water is frozen the nest and lightest part turns to vapour. A sign of this is that when it freezes and then thaws it becomes less than before; therefore, once the healthiest part has gone, of necessity in every case what is left behind is worse. F 215 R3 (Plutarch, quaestiones naturales 912A): Why are trees and seeds naturally nourished more by rain water than by running water? . . . Or is what Aristotle says true?that it is because rain water is recent and fresh while pool water is stale and old. F 225 R3 (Galen, de simplicium medicamentorum temperamentis XII 164 K): Now astringent things once they have been burnt lose much of their heat, while things that are not of that sort gain in heat. But nothing which has been burnt is completely cold. For there is left behind in it as it were a kind of ember (that is how Aristotle names it); and this is what is cleaned away in washing. It is the lightest part of the substance of burnt things, and when it departs along with the water, what is left of the burnt thing is an earthy substance; for the burning exhausts all the moisture, and what is left behind is earthy together with what Aristotle calls the ember. F 232 R3 (Apollonius, historiae mirabiles 51):

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Aristotle talks of something worthy of note in his Scientic Problems: he says that a man who has fed and drunk weighs the same as when he is fasting; and he also attempts to give an account of the cause of this. F 234 R3 (Apollonius, historiae mirabiles 9): Aristotle in his Scientic Problems says: Those who eat only one meal a day are likely to have more irritable characters than those who eat two. F 235 R3 (Athenaeus, 692BC): Aristotle, the most learned of men, asks in his Scientic Problems: Why is it that those who use hair-oil are greyer? Is it because the oil is a drying agent because of the herbs in it (hence those who use hair-oil are dry), and dryness makes men greyer? For either greyness is a drying up of the hair or it is a lack of heatand dryness puts out re. That is why felt caps also make men go grey more quickly; for the natural moisture of the hair is drawn out. F 237 R3 (Apollonius, historiae mirabiles 28): Aristotle in Pertaining to Animals: Wax in the ears, being bitter, becomes sweet in long illnesses. And this, he says, has been observed to occur in many cases. And in the Scientic Problems he also gives the cause of this occurrence. F 242 R3 (Plutarch, quaestiones convivales 734DF): . . . what they say about dreamsthat they are particularly uncertain and false during the months when the leaves fallsomehow came up after dinner. . . . Your friendsmy sonsthought that Aristotle had solved the puzzle, and they believed that there was no need to argue or search any further, except to say as he does that the harvest is the cause. For fruit, when it is fresh and juicy, generates a quantity of disorderly wind in the body; for it is not likely that wine alone boils and protests or that oil alone when newly pressed causes the lamps to sputter as the heat makes the wind rise in wavesrather, we see that new grain and all fruits stretch and swell until they exhale gaseous and unconcocted matter. To show that some foods bring bad dreams and disturb our sleeping visions, they adduce beans and the head of the octopus, from which those who resort to divination through dreams are ordered to abstain. F 243 R3 (Aulus Gellius, XIX vi 1): In the Problems of the philosopher Aristotle, this is written: Why is it that those who are ashamed turn red and those who are afraid turn pale, although those emotions are very similar? Because the blood of those who are ashamed runs from the heart to all the parts of the body and thus rises to the surface, while the blood of those who are afraid rushes together to the heart and thus leaves the other parts. F 244 R3 (Aulus Gellius, I xi 17-19):

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However, Aristotle in the books of Problems, wrote that the custom of marching into battle to the tunes of ute-players was begun by the Spartans in order that the condence and keenness of the soldiers might become more evident and more certain. For, he says, marching in this manner is least compatible with lack of condence and fear, and men depressed and fearful are incapable of such an intrepid and seemly mode of advance. I have added a few words of Aristotles on the matter: Why is it that whenever men are about to run into danger, they advance to the ute? In order that they may recognise the cowards by their failure to keep time. . . .44 F 246 R3 (Photius, Bibliotheca 249, 441b6-15): Aristotle dealt with this topic [sc. the ooding of the Nile]. For he himself actually thought the matter out on the basis of nature, determining to send Alexander of Macedonia to those parts and to discover by inspection the causes of the Niles increase. That is why he says that this is no longer a problem; for it has been plainly observed that it increases from the rains, andwhat is paradoxicalthat in the driest parts of Ethiopia where there is neither winter nor water there occur rainstorms in the summer. F 252 R3 (Scholiast to Aratus, 1095, p. 547 Maass): Aristotle says: Whenever the air is cold and wet, then at that time the islands, being moistened, produce vegetation and supply food for the birds there; but whenever the air is arid and dry, then since the islands produce no vegetation at all, the island birds ee to the mainland where they can nd at least a little nourishment. And when the jackdaws y from the islands it is a sign to farmers of drought and poor harvests; but if they migrate in season they indicate a good harvest. F 267 R3 (Athenaeus, 652A): Aristotle in On Plants. Of seedless dates, which some call eunuchs and others stoneless . . . .

44

There is a lacuna in the text.

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VII BIOLOGY F 279-380 R3

F 284 R3 (Strabo, XV xxii 695): Aristotle relates that there have been cases of septuplets [sc. in Egypt], and himself calls the Nile very fertile and nourishing, because of the moderate concoction from the periods of the sun which leave behind the nourishing factor while evaporating the superuous. F 286 R3 (Pliny, naturalis historia XI cliv 273): I am surprised that Aristotle not only believed but actually stated that there are certain signs of longevity in the body itself. And although I think that his view is baseless and should not be published without hesitation (lest everyone anxiously hunts for such signs in himself), nevertheless I shall touch on it because so learned a man did not despise it. Thus he lays down that signs of a short life are few teeth, long ngers, leaden complexion, and a large number of broken lines on the palm; on the other hand, long life is given to those who have sloping shoulders, one or two long lines on their palms, more than thirty two teeth, and big ears. F 288 R3 (Apollonius, historiae mirabiles 27): Aristotle in Pertaining to Animals (for there are two works by him, On Animals and Pertaining to Animals) says: Lice on the head do not perish during long illnesses; but when the patient is on the point of death the lice are found on the pillows, having abandoned the head. F 294 R3 (Athenaeus, 305D): Aristotle in On Animals: Others are toothless and smooth, like the needlesh; some are stoneheaded, like the cremys; some are very hard and rough-skinned, like the boar-sh; some have two stripes, like the seserinus; some have many stripes and red lines, like the saupe. F 297 R3 (Athenaeus, 286F): Aristotle, in the work entitled Pertaining to Animals or On Fish, says: Those with dorsal markings are called bogues, those with oblique markings mackerel. F 298 R3 (Athenaeus, 313D): Aristotle in his Pertaining to Animals writes thus: Fish with speckled tails include the blacktail and the sargthey have many black markings. F 299 R3 (Athenaeus, 305C):

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Aristotle in his Pertaining to Animals: Some have black speckles, like the blackbird; others variegated speckles, like the thrush. F 308 R3 (Athenaeus, 277E): Now when some bonito had been served, someone said: Aristotle records that these have covered gills, that they are saw-toothed, belong to the gregarious and carnivorous groups, and have a gall-bladder and a spleen as long as their gut. And it is said that when they are caught they jump up and bite off the hook, thus escaping. F 311 R3 (Athenaeus, 298B): Aristotle says that eels like very clean water. So eel-breeders pour clean water on themfor they are stied in turbid water. That is why those who hunt them stir up the water in order to stie them. For they have small gills and the ducts are immediately blocked by the mud. Thus during storms too, when the water is disturbed by the winds, they stie. They copulate by twining together, and they then release a glue-like substance from themselves which, left in the mud, becomes a living creature. Eel-breeders say that they feed at night and lie still in the mud during the day; and they live, for the most part, for eight years. F 346 R3 (Athenaeus, 389AB): Aristotle says this about the creature: The partridge is a land animal, with divided feet; it lives for fteen years, though the female lives for even longer (for among birds the female are longer-lived than the males). It broods over its eggs and hatches them like a domestic hen. When it realizes that it is being hunted, it runs out in front of its nest and limps along by the hunters legs, giving him the hope of catching it; and it deceives him until the nestlings have own away whereupon it ies away itself. The creature is bad-natured and mischievous; it is also salacious. That is why it breaks the females eggsso that it may tread her again. Thus the female, recognising this, runs away to lay. F 363 R3 (Aelian, de natura animalium XVI 33): Aristotle says that the horns and ears of the cattle among the Neuri grow out of the same spot and are knitted together. The same author says that a certain place in Libya has goats with their udders suspended from their breasts. The following too is from the son of Nicomachus: he says that among the Boudini who live by the Cariscus white sheep are not to be foundthey are all black. F 366 R3 (Aelian, de natura animalium V 8): Aristotle says that the land of the Astypalaeans is hostile to snakes, just asso the same author tells usRhenea is to weasels. F 368 R3 (Aelian, de natura animalium IV 57): Aristotle says that a man who has been bitten by a water-snake immediately

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gives off a very heavy smell, so that no-one is able to approach him. According to the same author, anyone who has been bitten is overcome by drowsinessand in fact a great mist comes over his eyes, and madness and very violent trembling ensue, and he dies two days later. F 373 R3 (Galen, Commentarius in Hippocratis de natura hominis XV 25-26 K): And if you want to investigate the opinions of the old doctors, you can read the volumes of the medical collection which are ascribed to Aristotle but are agreed to have been written by his pupil Menonwhich is why some call them the Menonia. It is clear that Menon carefully sought out those books of the old doctors which were still extant in his time, and thence collected their opinions. F 380 R3 (Vita Aristotelis Marciana 170-5 Gigon): And in mathematics he showed that the cone of the lines of sight is acuteangled because the line of sight extends further than the magnitude which it sees. And for this reason none of the things seen is seen as a whole at one and the same time, and hence the axis is larger than the base and the cone is acute-angled.

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VIII HISTORICAL WORKS F 381-644 R3

F 472 R3 (Athenaeus, 272D): In the Constitution of the Aeginetans Aristotle says that they had 470,000 slaves. F 473 R3 (Strabo, VII vii 2): Aristotles Constitutions show that from of old they [sc. the Leleges] were nomads, both in association with them [sc. the Carians] and by themselves. For in the Constitution of the Acarnanians he says that while the Curetes held part of it [sc. of Acarnania], the Leleges, and then the Teleboae, held the western part. And in that of the Aetolians he calls Leleges those who are now Locrians, and he says that they also held Boeotia. Similarly in those of the Opuntians and of the Megarians. In that of the Leucadians he also names an autochthonous Lelex, his grandson Teleboa, and the latters twenty-two children, the Teleboae, some of whom settled in Leucas. F 476 R3 , F 510 R3 (Pollux, IV 174): Aristotle, in the Constitution of the Acragantines, having said that they used to levy a ne of fty litres, adds that the litre is worth an Aeginetan obol. And in the Constitution of the Himerans he says that the Siceliots call two bronze pieces a dizas, one an ounce, three a trias, six a half-litre, an obol a litre, a Corinthian stater a decalitre (which is worth ten obols). F 486 R3 (Scholiast to Pindar, Pythian I 89): Aristotle says in the Constitution of the Geloans that Hierons brother died of dropsy, and, in the Constitution of the Syracusans, that Hieron himself suffered from cystitis. F 491 R3 (Strabo, VIII vi 15): Epidaurus used to be called Epicarus. For Aristotle says that the Carians held it, as they also held Hermione; but that when the Heraclidae returned, Ionians from the Attic Tetrapolis followed them to Argos and settled with the Carians. F 492 R3 (Harpocration, s.v. Hellanodikai): . . . Aristotle in the Constitution of the Eleans says that to begin with the Eleans appointed one Hellanodikes, but after a time two, and nally eight. F 496 R3 (Eustathius, 1747, on Odyssey XIII 408):

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The same author [sc. Pausanias] says that Aristotle relates that when a plague struck them [sc. the Boeotians] and a large ock of crows appeared, the men hunted down the crows, puried them with incantations, and let them go free; and they said to the plague: Go to the crows. F 497 R3 (Harpocration, s.v. tetrarchia): Aristotle in the Constitution of the Thessalians says that in the time of Aleuas the Red Thessaly was divided into four portions. F 498 R3 (Scholiast to Euripides, Rhesus 311): Aristotle in the Constitution of the Thessalians writes as follows: Dividing up the government . . .45 Aleuas ordered that each group according to lot should provide fty cavalrymen and eighty peltasts. A pelt e is a shield without a rim, not bronze-covered but made of stretched sheep- or goat-skin (not of cow-hide). And they all carried three javelins and a short spear called a schedion. F 501 R3 (Scholiast to Dionysius Thrax, p. 183.1-5 Hilgard): Others, including Ephorus in his second book, say that Cadmus was the inventor of the alphabet. But some say that he conveyed to us the invention of the Phoeniciansas Herodotus says in his Histories and as Aristotle relates. For they say that while the Phoenicians invented the alphabet, Cadmus introduced it to Greece. F 501 R3 (Scholiast to Dionysius Thrax, p. 190.19-21 Hilgard): Cadmus is the inventor of the alphabet, as Ephorus and Aristotle say; but others say that it was the invention of the Phoenicians and that Cadmus imported it to Greece. F 501 R3 (Pliny, naturalis historia VII lvi 192): Aristotle holds that 18 [sc. of the letters of the Greek alphabet] are original, and that twopsi and zetawere added by Epicharmus rather than by Palamedes. F 504 R3 (Etymologicon Magnum, s.v. Harkeisios): Aristotle, in the Constitution of the Ithacans, says that Cephalus, while living in the Cephallenian islands which got their name from him, had been childless for a long time, and on inquiring of the god was ordered to copulate with anything female he should happen to meet. Now arriving back in his own country he fell in with a she-bear, and in obedience to the oracle copulated away: the bear, becoming pregnant, turned into a woman and gave birth to a child, Arceisios (from arktos [bear]). F 512 R3 (Scholiast to Apollonius Rhodius, IV 982-92): The island is Corcyra. This previously used to be called Scheria. Aristotle
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There is a lacuna in the text here.

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gives the reason in his Constitution of the Corcyreans. For he says that Demeter was afraid that the rivers owing from the mainland would make it part of the mainland, and so she begged Poseidon to divert the courses of the rivers. Thus, since the rivers had been held back, it was called Scheria instead of Drepane. F 515 R3 (Athenaeus, 618EF): Aristotle at any rate says in the Constitution of the Colophonians: And Theodorus himself also died later by a violent death. And he is said to have become rather soft-living, as is clear from his poetry; for even today the women sing his songs at the time of the festivals. F 519 R3 (Scholiast to Pindar, Pythian II 127): Aristotle says that Achilles was the rst to have used the war-dance (pyrriche) at the pyre (pyra) of Patroclus (this is the dance, he says, that is called the prulis among the Cyprians); so he takes the word pyrriche to derive from pyre. F 532 R3 (Scholiast to Pindar, Isthmian VII 18): The Aegeidae are a phratry of the Thebans, from whose number some came to help the Spartans in their war against the Amycleans; their leader was Timomachus, who was the rst man to instruct the Spartans in all military matters, and who received great honours from them. And his bronze breastplate is put on display at the Hyacinthiathe Thebans used to call this a weapon. Aristotle relates this in the Constitution of the Spartans. . . . Aristotle says that when the Spartans were engaged in their war with the Amycleans, having ascertained from the god that they should take the Aegeidae as allies, they set out for Athens. But while lodging in Thebes they were invited to the banquet of the Aegeidae phratry. On hearing the priest praying after dinner that the gods would give good things to the Aegeidae, they interpreted the oracle and concluded their alliance in Thebes. F 533 R3 (Plutarch, Lycurgus 39E): Least of all is there agreement about the date at which he [sc. Lycurgus] lived. Some say that he ourished at the same time as Iphitus and joined with him in establishing the Olympic truceamong them, Aristotle the philosopher, who cites as evidence the discus at Olympia on which is preserved an inscription of Lycurgus name. F 540 R3 (Harpocration, s.v. moron): Aristotle has discussed this in the Constitution of the Spartans. He says that there are six named morae and that all the Spartans are divided among the morae. F 544 R3 (Scholiast to Euripides, Andromache 445): In the next lines he [sc. Euripides] berates them [sc. the Spartans] in particular for their love of money. Aristotle too relates this in his Constitution of the Spartans, and he adds the verse pronounced by the god: Love of money, nothing

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else, will ruin Sparta. F 547 R3 (Polybius, XII v 4-5): Nevertheless, I have no compunction in saying and writing that the account we have received from Aristotle about the colonisation [of Locri] is truer than that given by Timaeus. For I am aware that the Locrians agree that the tradition about the colonisation handed down to them from their fathers is the one Aristotle, not the one Timaeus, told. And they would offer the following proofs of it . . . F 549 R3 (Athenaeus, 576AB): Aristotle too relates that something similar happened when he writes in the Constitution of the Massaliots as follows: Phocaean merchants from Ionia founded Massilia. Euxenus the Phocaean was the guest of Nanos the king (that was his name). Now this Nanos was celebrating the marriage of his daughter and he invited Euxenus, who happened to be there, to the feast. The marriage took place in the following way: the girl had to come in after dinner with a cup of mixed wine and give it to any of the suitors present she wishedthe man she gave it to would be the bridegroom. Now the girl came in and, either by chance or for some other reason, gave it to Euxenus. (The girls name was Petta.) When this occurred, and her father asked him to take her since the gift was sanctioned by the gods, Euxenus took her for his wife and lived with her, changing her name to Aristoxene. And there is a family in Massilia that traces its origins back to her and is still called the Protiadaefor Protis was the son of Euxenus and Aristoxene. F 551 R3 (Athenaeus, 235E): Aristotle in the Constitution of the Methonians says: There were two parasites for each magistrate, and one for each military ofcial; and they received xed contributions from various sources and, in particular, sh from the shermen. F 554 R3 (Photius, Lexicon s.v. to Meliakon ploion): Aristotle says that when Hippotes was setting out to found a colony he laid a curse on those who were unwilling to sail with him. For those who stayed behind excused themselves by saying that their wives were sickly or that their ships were leaky; so he laid a curse that their ships might never be watertight and that they might always be ruled by their wives. F 558 R3 (Athenaeus, 348AC): Aristotle in the Constitution of the Naxians writes about this proverb as follows: Most of the rich men in Naxos lived in the town, while the rest were scattered among the villages. Now in one of the villages, called Leistadae, there lived Telesagoras, a very rich man with a good reputation who was honoured by the people in various ways including the daily sending of gifts. And when they came down from the town and haggled over anything being sold, the sellers used to say

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that they would rather give it to Telesagoras than sell it at such a price. Now some young men were buying a large sh, and when the sherman made the usual remark they were annoyed at hearing it so often; so, being tipsy, they roistered round to his house. Telesagoras received them civilly; but the young men assaulted him and his two daughters, who were of marriagable age. The Naxians were enraged at that, took up arms, and attacked the young men. And there was then serious unrest, the Naxians being led by Lygdamis who from this generalship became tyrant of his country. F 562 R3 (Harpocration, s.v. Amphissa): Aristotle in the Constitution of the Opuntians says this: Andraimon was the founder, and he called it Amphissa because the place was surrounded by mountains. F 577 R3 (Plutarch, Pericles 166D): Aristotle says that Pericles himself was earlier defeated in a sea-battle by Melissus. F 583 R3 (Athenaeus, 520CD): So far gone in luxury were they [sc. the Sybarites] that they actually trained their horses to dance to the pipe at their feasts. Now the Crotoniates knew this, and when they made war against them, as Aristotle says in his account of their constitution, they struck up the dance music for the horsesfor they had pipers among their soldiery. And when the horses heard the pipers they not only danced but actually deserted, carrying their riders, to the Crotoniates. F 588 R3 (Athenaeus, 435DE): Aristotle in his Constitution of the Syracusans says that he [sc. Dionysius the younger] was sometimes drunk for ninety days on end, and that that is why his sight became somewhat dim. F 593 R3 (Stephanus of Byzantium, s.v. Tenedos): [On the proverb, an axe of Tenedos.] Or rather, as Aristotle says in the Constitution of the Tenedians, because a certain king in Tenedos laid down a law that anyone who caught an adulterous pair should kill both with an axe. Now it happened that his son was caught committing adultery, and he conrmed that the law should be observed even in the case of his own son; after his son had been killed, the matter gave rise to a proverb for cruel treatment. F 609 R3 (Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Antiquitates Romanae I lxxii 3-4): Aristotle the philosopher relates that certain of the Achaeans who were returning from Troy sailed round Cape Malea and were caught in a violent storm; for a time they were carried by the winds and wandered all over the sea, but at last they came to that part of Opice which is called Latinium and lies on the Tyrrhenian

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Sea. Overjoyed at the sight of land, they beached their ships there and spent the winter months preparing to sail at the beginning of spring. But their ships burned one night, and having no way to leave they were compelled willy-nilly to settle in the spot where they had landed. This happened because of certain female prisoners whom they had brought from Troy: they burned the ships because they feared that if the Achaeans sailed home they would be made into slaves. F 614 R3 (Ammonius, de adnium vocabulorum differentia 334): Aristotle, in his Claims of the Cities, records the following: At the same time, Alexander the Molossian, when the Tarentines summoned him to make war against the barbarians, sailed with fty ships and numerous vessels for horse- and troop-transport. F 615 R3 (Plutarch, Solon 83F): For the Amphictyons were persuaded by him [sc. Solon] to go to war, as several authors testify, including Aristotle who, in his List of Pythian Victors, ascribes the decision to Solon. F 637 R3 (Scholiast to Aristides, Panathenaicus 189.4): The order of the festivals according to Aristotle is this: rst, the Eleusinia, because of the harvest of Demeter; second, the Panathenaea, for Aster the giant who was killed by Athena;46 third, the festival founded in Argos by Danaus because of the marriage of his daughters; fourth, the one founded in Arcadia by Lycaon and called the Lycaea; fth, the one at Iolcus, begun by Acastus47 for his father Pelias; sixth, the one at the Isthmus, introduced by Sisyphus for Melicertes; seventh, the Olympic festival, introduced by Hercules for Pelops; eighth, the one at Nemea, which the Seven against Thebes founded for Archemorus;48 ninth, the one at Troy which Achilles instituted for Patroclus; tenth, the Pythian festival which the Amphictyons founded for the death of Pytho. This is the order of the old and ancient festivals set out by Aristotle who composed the Peploi.

46 47

Reading hypo Athenas anairethenti. Reading Akastou. 48 Reading Archemoro.

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IX LETTERS F 645-670 R3
F 645 R3 (Athenaeus, 697A): And Aristotle himself, in his defence against the charge of impiety (if the speech is not a forgery) says: If I had decided to sacrice to Hermeias as an immortal I would not have prepared a memorial to him as a mortal, and if I had wished to immortalise his nature I would not have adorned his body with burial honours. F 646 R3 (Vita Aristotelis Marciana 94-96 Gigon): In order to confer a benet on all mankind, he [sc. Aristotle] wrote a book to Alexander on kingship, instructing him on how to rule. F 647 R3 (Themistius, orationes 107CD): We should do honour to Aristotle, who slightly altered Platos words and made his thesis truer. He said that it was not merely unnecessary for a king to be a philosopher, but actually a disadvantage; rather, a king should be attentive and obedient to true philosophers, since then he would ll his reign with good deeds not with words. F 651 R3 (Harpocration, s.v. hoti xenous): . . . Aristotle, in one of his letters to Philip, says that he [sc. Philip] released the daughters of Apollophanes to Satyrus the actor. F 652 R3 (Vita Aristotelis Marciana 34-40 Gigon): When he [sc. Aristotle] was seventeen, he received an oracle from the Pythian god to become a philosopher in Athens. There he attended on Socrates, and stayed with him for the short time that remained before the latters death; after him, he attended on Plato and stayed with him too until death, a period of some twenty years as he himself says in a letter to Philip. F 654 R3 (Vita Aristotelis Marciana 121-27 Gigon): . . . and he can be seen in his letters expressing his admiration for Plato and recommending to the kings those connected to Plato by birth. F 655 R3 (Vita Aristotelis Marciana 73-80 Gigon): He [sc. Aristotle] was so valued by Philip and Olympias that they set up a statue of him with themselves; and the philosopher, being such a considerable part of the kingdom,49 through his philosophy used his power as an instrument for
49

Reading basileias for philosophias.

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benefaction, doing good both to individuals and to entire cities and to all men at one and the same time. For the benets he bestowed on individuals are revealed in the letters which he wrote on various subjects to the royal couple. . . . F 656 R3 (Demetrius, de elocutione 233): Aristotle, however, actually uses demonstrations in his letters; for example, wishing to get it across that one should benet large and small states alike, he says: For the gods in both are equal; hence, since the Graces are goddesses, equal grace will accrue to you from both. F 657 R3 (Dio Chrysostom, XLVII 9-11): I used sometimes to congratulate Aristotle, who, coming from Stagira (a small town in Olynthia), after the fall of Olynthus managed through his intimacy with Alexander and Philip to secure the refounding of the site; and I used to say that he was the only man to have had the good fortune to be the founder of his own country. Now the other day I chanced on a letter in which Aristotle is repenting and lamenting and saying that some of the people in question were trying to destroy the king and the governors he had sent, so that no good had come of it nor had the city been established at all. But if it pained some men that, having been stateless fugitives, they should acquire a country and live in freedom according to the laws, and if they preferred to live in villages like barbarians rather than have the form and name of a state, why should we be amazed if anything else pains men? Aristotle writes in his letter that he has given up the businessfor he says that he is putting his hands up. F 658 R3 (Plutarch, de Alexandri fortuna 329B): He [sc. Alexander] did not do as Aristotle advisedact towards Greeks as their leader, towards foreigners as their master, treating the former as friends and kinsmen and the latter as animals or plantsand so ll his reign with many wars and banishments and festering factions. F 659 R3 (Aelian, Varia Historia xii 54): Aristotle, wishing to pacify Alexanders rage and to put a stop to his anger with so many people, wrote to him as follows: Anger and rage are directed not against lesser men but against greater; and you have no equal. F 660 R3 (Stobaeus, Anthologium III xx 55): Just as smoke stings our eyes and prevents us from seeing what is under our feet, so anger, once aroused, clouds our reason and does not allow our mind to anticipate the absurdity which will result from it. F 661 R3 (Stobaeus, Anthologium III xx 46): Or do you not see that when anything is done in rage our reason goes abroad, eeing anger as a harsh tyrant?

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F 663 R3 (Aristocles, frag. 2 Heiland = Eusebius, Praeparatio Evangelica XV ii 14): . . . as for his [sc. Aristotles] marriage to Pythias, he himself has given a full enough defence in his letters to Antipater. For he married her on Hermeias death because of his regard for Hermeias: she was a modest and good woman, and in unfortunate circumstances because of the disasters that had overtaken her brother. F 664 R3 (Plutarch, de tranquillitate animi 472E): Aristotle in writing to Antipater said: It is not just Alexander who has good reason to be proud because he has power over many men: pride is no less appropriate on the part of those who possess correct beliefs about the gods. F 665 R3 (Demetrius, de elocutione 225): Who would speak to a friend as Aristotle does to Antipater in a letter on behalf of some exile who was an old man? He says: If this man has journeyed as an exile in every land without ever returning home, clearly no reproach attaches to men who wish to return home to Hades. F 666 R3 (Aelian, Varia Historia xiv 1): Aristotle . . . wrote to Antipater when someone deprived him of the honours voted him at Delphi, commenting thus: As to what was voted me at Delphi and of which I have been deprived, my present attitude is neither one of great concern nor yet one of complete indifference. F 667 R3 (Vita Aristotelis Marciana 184-91 Gigon): When the Athenians rose against him, he withdrew to Chalcis, hinting at his reasons: I will not allow the Athenians to wrong philosophy twice. And, since citizens and foreigners did not have the same duties to the state of Athens, he writes in a letter to Antipater: Life at Athens is difcultfor pear grows old on pear and g on g, punning on the succession of informers.50 F 668 R3 (Demetrius, de elocutione 144): Elegance comes both from colloquial words, as when Aristotle says For the more I am a loner the more fond of stories have I become, and also from coined words, as for example the same author in the same passage: For the more I am a selfer and a loner, the more fond of stories have I become (the word loner is of somewhat colloquial usage, while selfer is coined from self). F 669 R3 (Demetrius, de elocutione 29): However, they [sc. homoeoteleuta] are sometimes useful, as when Aristotle says: I came to Athens from Stagira because of the great king, from Stagira to Athens because of the great winter.
50

Fig = sykos, informer = sykophantes.

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F 670 R3 (Demetrius, de elocutione 230): Aristotle, who has a high reputation as a letter-writer, says: I am not writing to you on this matter; for it is not suitable for a letter. (Ptolemy, Life of Aristotle p. 214 During): Thereupon, one of the priests which are called hierophants, by name Eurymedon, came forward with the purpose of denouncing him. He indicted him for impiety, claiming that Aristotle did not hold the gods in honour. He was prompted by a grudge which he bore to him in his heart, and Aristotle speaks of this in a letter to Antipater. (Ptolemy, Life of Aristotle p. 215 During): With what zest he practised goodness and strove to do good services to his fellow men is apparent from his open letters and his books and from what the reader can gather in these writings concerning the numerous interviews he had with contemporary kings and individuals, by which negotiations he promoted their affairs and proved useful to them.

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X POEMS F 671-675 R3
F 650 R3 , F 673 R3 (Olympiodorus, Commentarius in Gorgiam 41.9): That Aristotle actually honours him [sc. Plato] as his teacher is clear from the fact that he wrote a whole speech in praise of him; for he narrates his biography and lavishes praise upon him. And it is not just in the encomium that he praises him: in the elegy addressed to Eudemus he praises Plato himself in the following lines: Coming to the fair land of Cecropia he piously founded an altar of holy friendship for a man whom the wicked may not properly even praise; he, alone or the rst of mortals, showed clearly by his own life and by the courses of his arguments that a man becomes good and happy at the same time: but now none can grasp this any more.51 F 675 R3 (Diogenes Laertius, V 7; Athenaeus, 696BE; Didymus, in Demosthenem col. 6): Excellence, greatly striven for by mankind, noblest quarry in life, for your form, maiden, to die is an enviable fate in Greece and to endure violent untiring labours. Such is the fruit you cast into the mind, immortal, better than gold and parents and the soft rays of sleep. For your sake Hercules, son of Zeus, and the children of Leda underwent much, with their deeds hunting your power. From desire for you Achilles and Ajax went
51

Text uncertain.

92 to the house of Hades. For the sake of your dear form the nursling of Atarneus forsook the rays of the sun. Therefore, celebrated for his deeds and immortal, the Muses will magnify him, daughters of Memory, magnifying the honour of Zeus, god of guests, and the reward of steadfast friendship.52

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52

Text often uncertain.

FRAGMENTS: ARISTOTLES WILL

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ARISTOTLES WILL (Diogenes Laertius, V 11-16):

It will be well; but if anything should happen, Aristotle has made the following provisions: Antipater is to be executor in all matters and in perpetuity; but until Nicanor arrives, Aristomenes, Timarchus, Hipparchus, Dioteles, and Theophrastus (if he is willing and able) are to take care of the children and of Herpyllis and of the estate. And when my daughter comes of age, they are to marry her to Nicanor; and should anything happen to hermay it not, nor will itbefore her marriage or after she has married but before there are children, Nicanor is to be responsible for administering the affairs of my son and the others in a fashion worthy both of himself and of us. Let Nicanor take care of both my daughter and my son Nicomachus in whatever way he judges appropriate to their affairs, as though he were both father and brother to them. If anything should previously happen to Nicanormay it noteither before he has taken my daughter or after he has taken her but before there are children, then if he has made arrangements let these take effect. If Theophrastus wishes to live with my daughter, let the same provisions stand as with Nicanor; if he does not, the executors, after consultation with Antipater, are to administer the affairs both of my daughter and of my son in whatever way they think best. The executors and Nicanor are to remember me in taking care also of Herpyllis (for she was good to me) in all respects, and in particular, if she wants to take a husband, they are to see to it that she is given away in a fashion not unworthy of us. And in addition to what she has previously been given, they are to give her also a talent of silver from the estate and three woman servants, if she wishes, and the maidservant which she has, and the slave from Pyrrha. And if she wants to live in Chalcis, she is to have the guest-house by the garden, if in Stagira the family house; and whichever of these she wants, the executors are to furnish with whatever seems both proper to them and satisfactory to Herpyllis. Nicanor is also to take care of the slave Murmex, so that he is conveyed in a fashion worthy of us to his own people, together with those of his belongings which we received. They are to free Ambracis and to give her on the marriage of my daughter ve hundred drachmae and the maidservant which she has. They are

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also to give to Thale, in addition to the maidservant which she has (the one who was purchased), a thousand drachmae and a maidservant. As for Simo, apart from the money which has earlier been given him for another slave, they are either to buy him a slave or to give him money. Tacho is to be freed on the marriage of my daughter, as are Philo and Olympius and his child. Do not sell any of the slaves who served me, but employ them; and when they come of age, send them away free men as they deserve. They are to take care too that the statues which I commissioned from Gryllio are completed and set upboth the one of Nicanor and the one of Proxenus (which I intended to commission), and the one of Nicanors mother; as for the one of Arimnestus which is already completed, set it up as a memorial to him since he died childless. They are to dedicate the statue of my mother to Demeter in Nemea or wherever seems best. Wherever they make my grave they are to take and deposit there Pythias bones too, just as she instructed. And Nicanor, if he is preserved (which is a prayer I have offered on his behalf) is to set up statues in stone four cubits in height to Zeus Saviour and Athena Saviouress at Stagira.