11. It may be proved, by such evidence as the case admits of, that the peculiarity of the Moral Sentiment, or Conscience, is identified with our education under government, or Authority.

Conscience is described by such terms as moral approbation and disapprobation; and involves, when highly developed, a peculiar and unmistakeable revulsion of mind at what is wrong, and a strong resentment towards the wrong-doer, which become Remorse, in the case of self.

It is capable of being proved, that there is nothing natural or primitive in these feelings, except in so far as the case happens to concur with the dictates of Self-interest, or Sympathy, aided by the Emotions formerly specified. Any action that is hostile to our interest, excites a form of disapprobation, such as belongs to wounded self-interest; and any action that puts another to pain may so affect our natural sympathy as to be disapproved, and resented on that ground. These natural or inborn feelings are always liable to coincide with moral right and wrong, although they are not its criterion or measure in the mind of each individual. But in those cases where an unusually strong feeling of moral disapprobation is awakened, there is apt to be a concurrence of the primitive motives of self, and of fellow-feeling; and it is the ideal of good law, and good morality to coincide with a certain well-proportioned adjustment of the Prudential and the Sympathetic regards of the individual.

The requisite allowance being made for the natural impulses, we must now adduce the facts, showing that the characteristic of the Moral Sense is an education under Law, or Authority, through the instrumentality of Punishment.

(1) It is a fact that human beings living in society are placed under discipline, accompanied by punishment. Certain actions are forbidden, and the doers of them are subjected to some painful infliction; which is increased in severity if they are persisted in. Now, what would be the natural consequence of such a system, under the known laws of feeling, will, and intellect? Would not an action that always brings down punishment be associated with the pain and the dread of punishment? Such an association is inevitably formed, and becomes at least a part, and a very important part, of the sense of duty; nay, it would of itself, after a certain amount of repetition, be adequate to restrain for ever the performance of the action, thus attaining the end of morality.

There may be various ways of evoking and forming the moral sentiment, but the one way most commonly trusted to, and never altogether dispensed with, is the associating of pain, that is, punishment, with the actions that are disallowed. Punishment is held out as the consequence of performing certain actions; every individual is made to taste of it; its infliction is one of the most familiar occurrences of every-day life. Consequently, whatever else may be present in the moral sentiment, this fact of the connexion of pain with forbidden actions must enter into it with an overpowering prominence. Any natural or primitive impulse in the direction of duty must be very marked and apparent, in order to divide with this communicated bias the direction of our conduct. It is for the supporters of innate distinctions to point out any concurring impetus (apart from the Prudential and Sympathetic regards) sufficiently important to cast these powerful associations into a secondary or subordinate position.

By a familiar effect of Contiguous Association, the dread of punishment clothes the forbidden act with a feeling of aversion, which in the end persists of its own accord, and without reference to the punishment. Actions that have long been connected in the mind with pains and penalties, come to be contemplated with a disinterested repugnance; they seem to give pain on their own account. This is a parallel, from the side of pain, of the acquired attachment to money. Now, when, by such transference, a self-subsisting sentiment of aversion has been created, the conscience seems to be detached from all external sanctions, and to possess an isolated footing in the mind. It has passed through the stage of reference to authority, and has become a law to itself. But no conscience ever arrives at the independent standing, without first existing in the reflected and dependent stage.

We must never omit from the composition of the Conscience the primary impulses of Self-Interest and Sympathy, which in minds strongly alive to one or other, always count for a powerful element in human conduct, although for reasons already stated, not the strictly moral element, so far as the individual is concerned. They are adopted, more or less, by the authority imposing the moral code; and when the two sources coincide, the stream is all the stronger.

(2) Where moral training is omitted or greatly neglected, there is an absence of security for virtuous conduct.

In no civilized community is moral discipline entirely wanting. Although children may be neglected by their parents, they come at last under the discipline of the law and the public. They cannot be exempted from the associations of punishment with wrong. But when these associations have not been early and sedulously formed, in the family, in the school, and in the workshop, the moral sentiment is left in a feeble condition. There still remain the force of the law and of public opinion, the examples of public punishment, and the reprobation of guilt. Every member of the community must witness daily the degraded condition of the viciously disposed, and the prosperity following on respect for the law. No human being escapes from thus contracting moral impressions to a very large amount.

(3) Whenever an action is associated with Disapprobation and Punishment, there grows up, in reference to it, a state of mind undistinguishable from Moral Sentiment.

There are many instances where individuals are enjoined to a course of conduct wholly indifferent with regard to universal morality, as in the regulations of societies formed for special purposes. Each member of the society has to conform to these regulations, under pain of forfeiting all the benefits of the society, and of perhaps incurring positive evils. The code of honour among gentlemen is an example of these artificial impositions. It is not to be supposed that there should be an innate sentiment to perform actions having nothing to do-with moral right and wrong; yet the disapprobation and the remorse following on a breach of the code of honour, will often be greater than what follows a breach of the moral law. The constant habit of regarding with dread the consequences of violating any of the rules, simulates a moral sentiment, on a subject unconnected with morality properly so called.

The arbitrary ceremonial customs of nations, with reference to such points as ablutions, clothing, eating and abstinence from meats,—when rendered obligatory by the force of penalties, occupy exactly the same place in the mind as the principles of moral right and wrong. The same form of dread attaches to the consequences of neglect; the same remorse is felt by the individual offender. The exposure of the naked person is as much abhorred as telling a lie. The Turkish woman exposing her face, is no less conscience-smitten than if she murdered her child. There is no act, however trivial, that cannot be raised to the position of a moral act, by the imperative of society.

Still more striking is the growth of a moral sentiment in connexion with such usages as the Hindoo suttee. It is known that the Hindoo widow, if prevented from burning herself with her husband's corpse, often feels all the pangs of remorse, and leads a life of misery and self-humiliation. The habitual inculcation of this duty by society, the penalty of disgrace attached to its omission, operate to implant a sentiment in every respect analogous to the strongest moral sentiment.



PART II.

THE ETHICAL SYSTEMS.

The first important name in Ancient Ethical Philosophy is SOKRATES. [469-399 B.C.]

For the views of Sokrates, as well as his method,[4] we have first the MEMORABILIA of XENOPHON, and next such of the Platonic Compositions, as are judged, by comparison with the Memorabilia, to keep closest to the real Sokrates. Of these, the chief are the APOLOGY OF SOKRATES, the KRITON and the PHAEDON.

The 'Memorabilia' was composed by Xenophon, expressly to vindicate Sokrates against the accusations and unfavourable opinions that led to his execution. The 'Apology' is Plato's account of his method, and also sets forth his moral attitude. The 'Kriton' describes a conversation between him and his friend Kriton, in prison, two days before his death, wherein, in reply to the entreaties of his friends generally that he should make his escape from prison, he declares his determination to abide by the laws of the Athenian State. Inasmuch as, in the Apology, he had seemed to set his private convictions above the public authority, he here presents another side of his character. The 'Phaedon' contains the conversation on 'the Immortality of the Soul' just before his execution.

The Ethical bearings of the Philosophical method, the Doctrines, and the Life of Sokrates. are these:—

The direction he gave to philosophical enquiry, was expressed in the saying that he brought 'Philosophy down from Heaven to Earth.' His subjects were Man and Society. He entered a protest against the enquiries of the early philosophers as to the constitution of the Kosmos, the nature of the Heavenly Bodies, the theory of Winds and Storms. He called these Divine things; and in a great degree useless, if understood. The Human relations of life, the varieties of conduct of men towards each other in all capacities, were alone within the compass of knowledge, and capable of yielding fruit. In short, his turn of mind was thoroughly practical, we might say utilitarian.

I.—He gave a foundation and a shape to Ethical Science, by insisting on its practical character, and by showing that, like the other arts of life, it had an End, and a Theory from which flows the precepts or means. The End, which would be the STANDARD, was not stated by him, and hardly even by Plato, otherwise than in general language; the Summum Bonum had not as yet become a matter of close debate. 'The art of dealing with human beings,' 'the art of behaving in society,' 'the science of human happiness,' were various modes of expressing the final end of conduct.[5] Sokrates clearly indicated the difference between an unscientific and a scientific art; the one is an incommunicable knack or dexterity, the other is founded on theoretical principles.

II.—Notwithstanding his professing ignorance of what virtue is, Sokrates had a definite doctrine with reference to Ethics, which we may call his PSYCHOLOGY of the subject. This was the doctrine that resolves Virtue into Knowledge, Vice into Ignorance or Folly. 'To do right was the only way to impart happiness, or the least degree of unhappiness compatible with any given situation: now, this was precisely what every one wished for and aimed at—only that many persons, from ignorance, took the wrong road; and no man was wise enough always to take the right. But as no man was willingly his own enemy, so no man ever did wrong willingly; it was because he was not fully or correctly informed of the consequences of his own actions; so that the proper remedy to apply, was enlarged teaching of consequences and improved judgment. To make him willing to be taught, the only condition required was to make him conscious of his own ignorance; the want of which consciousness was the real cause both of indocility and of vice' (Grote). This doctrine grew out of his favourite analogy between social duty and a profession or trade. When the artizan goes wrong, it is usually from pure ignorance or incapacity; he is willing to do good work if he is able.

III.—The SUMMUM BONUM with Sokrates was Well-doing. He had no ideal of pursuit for man apart from virtue, or what he esteemed virtue—the noble and the praiseworthy. This was the elevated point of view maintained alike by him and by Plato, and common to them with the ideal of modern ages.

Well-doing consisted in doing well whatever a man undertook. 'The best man,' he said, 'and the most beloved by the gods, is he that, as a husbandman, performs well the duties of husbandry; as a surgeon, the duties of the medical art; in political life, his duty towards the commonwealth. The man that does nothing well is neither useful nor agreeable to the gods.' And as knowledge is essential to all undertakings, knowledge is the one thing needful. This exclusive regard to knowledge was his one-sidedness as a moral theorist; but he did not consistently exclude all reference to the voluntary control of appetite and passion.

IV.—He inculcated Practical Precepts of a self-denying kind, intended to curb the excesses of human desire and ambition. He urged the pleasures of self-improvement and of duty against indulgences, honours, and worldly advancement. In the 'Apology,' he states it as the second aim of his life (after imparting the shock of conscious ignorance) to reproach men for pursuing wealth and glory more than wisdom and virtue. In 'Kriton,' he lays it down that we are never to act wrongly or unjustly, although others are unjust to us. And, in his own life, he furnished an illustrious example of his teaching. The same lofty strain was taken up by Plato, and repeated in most of the subsequent Ethical schools.

V.—His Ethical Theory extended itself to Government, where he applied his analogy of the special arts. The legitimate King was he that knew how to govern well.

VI.—The connexion in the mind of Sokrates between Ethics and Theology was very slender.

In the first place, his distinction of Divine and Human things, was an exclusion of the arbitrary will of the gods from human affairs, or from those things that constituted the ethical end.

But in the next place, he always preserved a pious and reverential tone of mind; and considered that, after patient study, men should still consult the oracles, by which the gods, in cases of difficulty, graciously signified their intentions, and their beneficent care of the race. Then, the practice of well-doing was prompted by reference to the satisfaction of the gods. In so far as the gods administered the world in a right spirit, they would show favour to the virtuous.

PLATO. [427-347 B.C.]

The Ethical Doctrines of Plato are scattered through his various Dialogues; and incorporated with his philosophical method, with his theory of Ideas, and with his theories of man and of society.

From Sokrates, Plato derived Dialectics, or the method of Debate; he embodied all his views in imaginary conversations, or Dialogues, suggested by, and resembling the real conversations of Sokrates. And farther, in imitation of his master, he carried on his search after truth under the guise of ascertaining the exact meaning or definition of leading terms; as Virtue, Courage, Holiness, Temperance, Justice, Law, Beauty, Knowledge, Rhetoric, &c.

We shall first pass in review the chief Dialogues containing Ethical doctrines.

The APOLOGY, KRITON, and EUTHYPHRON (we follow Mr. Grote's order) may be passed by as belonging more to his master than to himself; moreover, everything contained in them will be found recurring in other dialogues.

The ALKIBIADES I. is a good specimen of the Sokratic manner. It brings out the loose discordant notions of Just and Unjust prevailing in the community; sets forth that the Just is also honourable, good, and expedient—the cause of happiness to the just man; urges the importance of Self-knowledge; and maintains that the conditions of happiness are not wealth and power, but Justice and Temperance.

ALKIBIADES II. brings out a Platonic position as to the Good. There are a number of things that are good, as health, money, family, but there is farther required the skill to apply these in proper measure to the supreme end of life. All knowledge is not valuable; there may be cases where ignorance is better. What we are principally interested in knowing is the Good, the Best, the Profitable. The man of much learning, without this, is like a vessel tossed on the sea without a pilot.[6]

In HIPPIAS MINOR, appears an extreme statement of the doctrine, common to Sokrates and Plato, identifying virtue with knowledge, or giving exclusive attention to the intellectual element of conduct. It is urged that a mendacious person, able to tell the truth if he chooses, is better than one unable to tell it, although wishing to do so; the knowledge is of greater worth than the good disposition.

In MINOS (or the Definition of Law) he refuses to accept the decree of the state as a law, but postulates the decision of some Ideal wise man. This is a following out of the Sokratic analogy of the professions, to a purely ideal demand; the wise man is never producible. In many dialogues (Kriton, Laches, &c.) the decision of some Expert is sought, as a physician is consulted in disease; but the Moral expert is unknown to any actual community.

In LACHES, the question 'what is Virtue?' is put; it is argued under the special virtue of Courage. In a truly Sokratic dialogue, Sokrates is in search of a definition of Courage; as happens in the search dialogues, there is no definite result, but the drift of the discussion is to make courage a mode of intelligence, and to resolve it into the grand desideratum of the knowledge of good and evil—belonging to the One Wise Man.

CHARMIDES discusses Temperance. As usual with Plato in discussing the virtues, with a view to their Logical definition, he presupposes that this is something beneficial and good. Various definitions are given of Temperance; and all are rejected; but the dialogue falls into the same track as the Laches, in putting forward the supreme science of good and evil. It is a happy example of the Sokratic manner and purpose, of exposing the conceit of knowledge, the fancy that people understand the meaning of the general terms habitually employed.

LYSIS on Friendship, or Love, might be expected to furnish some ethical openings, but it is rather a piece of dialectic, without result, farther than to impart the consciousness of ignorance. If it suggests anything positive, it is the Idea of Good, as the ultimate end of affection. The subject is one of special interest in ancient Ethics, as being one of the aspects of Benevolent sentiment in the Pagan world. In Aristotle we first find a definite handling of it.

MENON may be considered as pre-eminently ethical in its design. It is expressly devoted to the question—Is Virtue teachable? Sokrates as usual confesses that he does not know what virtue is. He will not accept a catalogue of the admitted virtues as a definition of virtue, and presses for some common, or defining attribute. He advances on his own side his usual doctrine that virtue is Knowledge, or a mode of Knowledge, and that it is good and profitable; which is merely an iteration of the Science of good and evil. He distinguishes virtue from Right Opinion, a sort of quasi-knowledge, the knowledge of esteemed and useful citizens, which cannot be the highest knowledge, since these citizens fail to impart it even to their own sons.

In this dialogue, we have Plato's view of Immortality, which comprises both pre-existence and post-existence. The pre-existence is used to explain the derivation of general notions, or Ideas, which are antecedent to the perceptions of sense.

In PROTAGORAS, we find one of the most important of the ethical discussions of Plato. It proceeds from the same question—Is virtue teachable?—Sokrates as usual expressing his doubts on the point. Protagoras then delivers a splendid harangue, showing how virtue is taught—namely, by the practice of society in approving, condemning, rewarding, punishing the actions of individuals. From childhood upward, every human being in society is a witness to the moral procedure of society, and by degrees both knows, and conforms to, the maxims of virtue of the society. Protagoras himself as a professed teacher, or sophist, can improve but little upon, this habitual inculcation. Sokrates, at the end of the harangue, puts in his usual questions tending to bring out the essence or definition of virtue, and soon drives Protagoras into a corner, bringing him to admit a view nowhere else developed in Plato, that Pleasure is the only good, Pain the only evil, and that the science of Good and Evil consists in Measuring, and in choosing between conflicting pleasures and pains—preferring the greater pleasure to the less, the less pain to the greater. For example, courage is a wise estimate of things terrible and things not terrible. In consistency with the doctrine that Knowledge is virtue, it is maintained here as elsewhere, that a man knowing good and evil must act upon that knowledge. Plato often repeats his theory of Measurement, but never again specifically intimates that the things to be measured are pleasures and pains. And neither here nor elsewhere, does he suppose the virtuous man taking directly into his calculation the pleasures and pains of other persons.

GORGIAS, one of the most renowned of the dialogues in point of composition, is also ethical, but at variance with the Protagoras, and more in accordance with Plato's predominating views. The professed subject is Rhetoric, which, as an art, Sokrates professes to hold in contempt. The dialogue begins with the position that men are prompted by the desire of good, but proceeds to the great Platonic paradox, that it is a greater evil to do wrong than to suffer wrong. The criminal labours under a mental distemper, and the best thing that can happen to him, is to be punished that so he may be cured. The unpunished wrong-doer is more miserable than if he were punished. Sokrates in this dialogue maintains, in opposition to the thesis of Protagoras, that pleasure is not the same as good, that there are bad pleasures and good pains; and a skilful adviser, one versed in the science of good and evil, must discriminate between them. He does not mean that those pleasures only are bad that bring an overplus of future pains, which would be in accordance with the previous dialogue. The sentiment of the dialogue is ascetic and self-denying.[7] Order or Discipline is inculcated, not as a means to an end, but as an end in itself.

The POLITIKUS is on the Art of Government, and gives the Platonic beau ideal of the One competent person, governing absolutely, by virtue of his scientific knowledge, and aiming at the good and improvement of the governed. This is merely another illustration of the Sokratic ideal—a despotism, anointed by supreme good intentions, and by an ideal skill. The Republic is an enlargement of the lessons of the Politikus without the dialectic discussion.

The postulate of the One Wise man is repeated in KRATYLUS, on the unpromising subject of Language or the invention of Names.

The PHILEBUS has a decidedly ethical character. It propounds for enquiry the Good, the Summum Bonum. This is denied to be mere pleasure, and the denial is enforced by Sokrates challenging his opponent to choose the lot of an ecstatic oyster. As usual, good must be related to Intelligence; and the Dialogue gives a long disquisition upon the One and the Many, the Theory of Ideas, the Determinate and the Indeterminate. Good is a compound of Pleasure and Intelligence, the last predominating. Pleasure is the Indeterminate, requiring the Determinate (Knowledge) to regulate it. This is merely another expression for the doctrine of Measure, and for the common saying, that the Passions must be controlled by Reason. There is, also, in the dialogue, a good deal on the Psychology of Pleasure and Pain. Pleasure is the fundamental harmony of the system; Pain its disturbance. Bodily Pleasure pre-supposes pain [true only of some pleasures]. Mental pleasures may be without previous pain, and are therefore pure pleasures. A life of Intelligence is conceivable without either pain or pleasure; this is the choice of the Wise man, and is the nature of the gods. Desire is a mixed state, and comprehends body and mind. Much stress is laid on the moderate and tranquil pleasures; the intense pleasures, coveted by mankind, belong to a distempered rather than a healthy state; they are false and delusive. Pleasure is, by its nature, a change or transition, and cannot be a supreme end. The mixture of Pleasure and Intelligence is to be adjusted by the all-important principle of Measure or Proportion, which connects the Good with the Beautiful.

A decided asceticism is the ethical tendency of this dialogue. It is markedly opposed to the view of the Protagoras. Still greater is the opposition between it and the two Erotic dialogues, Phaedrus and Symposium, where Bonum and Pulchrum are attained in the pursuit of an ecstatic and overwhelming personal affection.

The REPUBLIC starts with the question—what is JUSTICE? and, in answering it, provides the scheme of a model Republic. Book I. is a Sokratic colloquy, where one speaker, on being interrogated, defines Justice as 'rendering to every man his due,' and afterwards amends it to 'doing good to friends, evil to enemies.' Another gives 'the right of the strongest.' A third maintains that Injustice by itself is profitable to the doer; but, as it is an evil to society in general, men make laws against it and punish it; in consequence of which, Justice is the more profitable. Sokrates, in opposition, undertakes to prove that Justice is good in itself, ensuring the happiness of the doer by its intrinsic effect on his mind; and irrespective of exemption from the penalties of injustice. He reaches this result by assimilating an individual to a state. Justice is shown to be good in the entire city, and by analogy it is also good in the individual. He accordingly proceeds to construct his ideal commonwealth. In the course of this construction many ethical views crop out.

The state must prescribe the religious belief, and allow no compositions at variance with it. The gods must always be set forth as the causes of good; they must never be represented as the authors of evil, nor as practising deceit. Neither is it to be allowed to represent men as unjust, yet happy; or just, and yet miserable. The poetic representation of bad characters is also forbidden. The musical training is to be adapted for disposing the mind to the perception of Beauty, whence it becomes qualified to recognize the other virtues. Useful fictions are to be diffused, without regard to truth. This pious fraud is openly recommended by Plato.

The division of the human mind into (1) REASON or Intelligence; (2) ENERGY, Courage, Spirit, or the Military Virtue; and (3) Many-headed APPETITE, all in mutual counter-play—is transferred to the State, each of the three parts being represented by one of the political orders or divisions of the community. The happiness of the man and the happiness of the commonwealth are attained in the same way, namely, by realizing the four virtues—Wisdom, Courage, Temperance, Justice; with this condition, that Wisdom, or Reason, is sought only in the Ruling caste, the Elders; Courage, or Energy, only in the second caste, the Soldiers or Guardians; while Temperance and Justice (meaning almost the same thing) must inhere alike in all the three classes, and be the only thing expected in the third, the Working Multitude.

If it be now asked, what and where is Justice? the answer is—'every man to attend to his own business.' Injustice occurs when any one abandons his post, or meddles with what does not belong to him; and more especially when any one of a lower division aspires to the function of a higher. Such is Justice for the city, and such is it in the individual; the higher faculty—Reason, must control the two lower—Courage and Appetite. Justice is thus a sort of harmony or balance of the mental powers; it is to the mind what health is to the body. Health is the greatest good, sickness the greatest evil, of the body; so is Justice of the mind.

It is an essential of the Platonic Republic that, among the guardians at least, the sexual arrangements should be under public regulation, and the monopoly of one woman by one man forbidden: a regard to the breed of the higher caste of citizens requires the magistrate to see that the best couples are brought together, and to refuse to rear the inferior offspring of ill-assorted connexions. The number of births is also to be regulated.

In carrying on war, special maxims of clemency are to be observed towards Hellenic enemies.

The education of the Guardians must be philosophical; it is for them to rise to the Idea of the good, to master the science of Good and Evil; they must be emancipated from the notion that Pleasure is the good. To indicate the route to this attainment Plato gives his theory of cognition generally—the theory of Ideas;—and indicates (darkly) how these sublime generalities are to be reached.

The Ideal Commonwealth supposed established, is doomed to degradation and decay; passing through Timocracy, Oligarchy, Democracy, to Despotism, with a corresponding declension of happiness. The same varieties may be traced in the Individual; the 'despotized' mind is the acme of Injustice and consequent misery.

The comparative value of Pleasures is discussed. The pleasures of philosophy, or wisdom (those of Reason), are alone true and pure; the pleasures corresponding to the two other parts of the mind are inferior; Love of Honour (from Courage or Energy), and Love of Money (Appetite). The well-ordered mind—Justice—is above all things the source of happiness. Apart from all consequences of Justice, this is true; the addition of the natural results only enhances the strength of the position.

In TIMAEUS, Plato repeats the doctrine that wickedness is to the mind what disease is to the body. The soul suffers from two distempers, madness and ignorance; the man under passionate heat is not wicked voluntarily. No man is bad willingly; but only from some evil habit of body, the effect of bad bringing-up [very much the view of Robert Owen].

The long treatise called the LAWS, being a modified scheme of a Republic, goes over the same ground with more detail. We give the chief ethical points. It is the purpose of the lawgiver to bring about happiness, and to provide all good things divine and human. The divine things are the cardinal virtues—Wisdom, Justice, Temperance, Courage; the human are the leading personal advantages—Health, Beauty, Strength, Activity, Wealth. He requires the inculcation of self-command, and a training in endurance. The moral and religious feelings are to be guided in early youth, by the influence of Poetry and the other Fine Arts, in which, as before, a stringent censorship is to be exercised; the songs and dances are all to be publicly authorized. The ethical doctrine that the just man is happy and the unjust miserable, is to be preached; and every one prohibited from contradicting it. Of all the titles to command in society, Wisdom is the highest, although policy may require it to be conjoined with some of the others (Birth, Age, Strength, Accident, &c.). It is to be a part of the constitution to provide public exhortations, or sermons, for inculcating virtue; Plato having now passed into an opposite phase as to the value of Rhetoric, or continuous address. The family is to be allowed in its usual form, but with restraints on the age of marriage, on the choice of the parties, and on the increase of the number of the population. Sexual intercourse is to be as far as possible confined to persons legally married; those departing from this rule are, at all events, to observe secresy. The slaves are not to be of the same race as the masters. As regards punishment, there is a great complication, owing to the author's theory that wickedness is not properly voluntary. Much of the harm done by persons to others is unintentional or involuntary, and is to be made good by reparation. For the loss of balance or self-control, making the essence of injustice, there must be a penal and educational discipline, suited to cure the moral distemper; not for the sake of the past, which cannot be recalled, but of the future. Under cover of this theory, the punishments are abundantly severe; and the crimes include Heresy, for which there is a gradation of penalties terminating in death.

We may now summarize the Ethics of Plato, under the general scheme as follows:—

I.—The Ethical Standard, or criterion of moral Right and Wrong. This we have seen is, ultimately, the Science of Good and Evil, as determined by a Scientific or Wise man; the Idea of the Good, which only a philosopher can ascend to. Plato gave no credit to the maxims of the existing society; these were wholly unscientific.

It is obvious that this vague and indeterminate standard would settle nothing practically; no one can tell what it is. It is only of value as belonging to a very exalted and poetic conception of virtue, something that raises the imagination above common life into a sphere of transcendental existence.

II.—The Psychology of Ethics.

1. As to the Faculty of discerning Right. This is implied in the foregoing statement of the criterion. It is the Cognitive or Intellectual power. In the definite position taken up in Protagoras, it is the faculty of Measuring pleasures against one another and against pains. In other dialogues, measure is still the important aspect of the process, although the things to be measured are not given.

2. As regards the Will. The theory that vice, if not the result of ignorance, is a form of madness, an uncontrollable fury, a mental distemper, gives a peculiar rendering of the nature of man's Will. It is a kind of Necessity, not exactly corresponding, however, with the modern doctrine of that name.

3. Disinterested Sentiment is not directly and plainly recognized by Plato. His highest virtue is self-regarding; a concern for the Health of the Soul.

III.—On the Bonum, or Summum Bonum, Plato is ascetic and self-denying. 1. We have seen that in Philebus, Pleasure is not good, unless united with Knowledge or Intelligence; and the greater the Intelligence, the higher the pleasure. That the highest happiness of man is the pursuit of truth or Philosophy, was common to Plato and to Aristotle.

2. Happiness is attainable only through Justice or Virtue. Justice is declared to be happiness, first, in itself, and secondly, in its consequences. Such is the importance attached to this maxim as a safeguard of Society, that, whether true or not, it is to be maintained by state authority.

3. The Psychology of Pleasure and Pain is given at length in the Philebus.

IV.—With regard to the scheme of Duty. In Plato, we find the first statement of the four Cardinal Virtues.

As to the Substance of the Moral Code, the references above made to the Republic and the Laws will show in what points his views differed from modern Ethics.

Benevolence was not one of the Cardinal Virtues.

His notions even of Reciprocity were rendered hazy and indistinct by his theory of Justice as an end in itself.

The inducements, means, and stimulants to virtue, in addition to penal discipline, are training, persuasion, or hortatory discourse, dialectic cognition of the Ideas, and, above all, that ideal aspiration towards the Just, the Good, around which he gathered all that was fascinating in poetry, and all the associations of religion and divinity. Plato employed his powerful genius in working up a lofty spiritual reward, an ideal intoxication, for inciting men to the self-denying virtues. He was the first and one of the greatest of preachers. His theory of Justice is suited to preaching, and not to a scientific analysis of society.

V.—The relation of Ethics to Politics is intimate, and even inseparable. The Civil Magistrate, as in Hobbes, supplies the Ethical sanction. All virtue is an affair of the state, a political institution. This, however, is qualified by the demand for an ideal state, and an ideal governor, by whom alone anything like perfect virtue can be ascertained.

VI.—The relationship with Theology is also close. That is to say, Plato was not satisfied to construct a science of good and evil, without conjoining the sentiments towards the Gods. His Theology, however, was of his own invention, and adapted to his ethical theory. It was necessary to suppose that the gods were the authors of good, in order to give countenance to virtue.

Plato was the ally of the Stoics, as against the Epicureans, and of such modern theorists as Butler, who make virtue, and not happiness, the highest end of man. With him, discipline was an end in itself, and not a means; and he endeavoured to soften its rigour by his poetical and elevated Idealism.

Although he did not preach the good of mankind, or direct beneficence, he undoubtedly prepared the way for it, by urging self-denial, which has no issue or relevance, except either by realizing greater happiness to Self (mere exalted Prudence, approved of by all sects), or by promoting the welfare of others.

THE CYNICS AND THE CYRENAICS.

These opposing sects sprang from Sokrates, and passed, with little modification, the one into the Stoics, the other into the Epicureans. Both ANTISTHENES, the founder of the Cynics, and ARISTIPPUS, the founder of the Cyrenaics, were disciples of Sokrates.

Their doctrines chiefly referred to the Summum Bonum—the Art of Living, or of Happiness.

The CYNICS were most closely allied to Sokrates; they, in fact, carried out to the full his chosen mode of life. His favourite maxim—that the gods had no wants, and that the most godlike man was he that approached to the same state—was the Cynic Ideal. To subsist upon the narrowest means; to acquire indifference to pain, by a discipline of endurance; to despise all the ordinary pursuits of wealth and pleasure,—were Sokratic peculiarities, and were the beau ideal of Cynicism.

The Cynic succession of philosophers were, (1) ANTISTHENES, one of the most constant friends and companions of Sokrates; (2) DIOGENES of Sinope, the pupil of Antisthenes, and the best known type of the sect. (His disciple Krates, a Theban, was the master of Zeno, the first Stoic.) (3) STILPON of Megara, (4) MENEDEMUS of Eretria, (5) MONIMUS of Syracuse, (6) KRATES.

The two first heads of the Ethical scheme, so meagrely filled up by the ancient systems generally, are almost a total blank as regards both Cynics and Cyrenaics.

I.—As regards a Standard of right and wrong, moral good or evil, they recognized nothing but obedience to the laws and customs of society.

II.—They had no Psychology of a moral faculty, of the will, or of benevolent sentiment. The Cyrenaic Aristippus had a Psychology of Pleasure and Pain.

The Cynics, instead of discussing Will, exercised it, in one of its most prominent forms,—self-control and endurance.

Disinterested conduct was no part of their scheme, although the ascetic discipline necessarily promotes abstinence from sins against property, and from all the vices of public ambition.

III.—The proper description of both systems comes under the Summum Bonum, or the Art of Living.

The Cynic Ideal was the minimum of wants, the habituation to pain, together with indifference to the common enjoyments. The compensating reward was exemption from fear, anxiety, and disappointment; also, the pride of superiority to fellow-beings and of approximation to the gods. Looking at the great predominance of misery in human life, they believed the problem of living to consist in a mastery over all the forms of pain; until this was first secured, there was to be a total sacrifice of pleasure.

The Cynics were mostly, like Sokrates, men of robust health, and if they put their physical constitution to a severe test by poor living and exposure to wind and weather, they also saved it from the wear and tear of steady industry and toil. Exercise of body and of mind, with a view to strength and endurance, was enjoined; but it was the drill of the soldier rather than the drudgery of the artisan.

In the eyes of the public, the prominent feature of the Cynic was his contemptuous jeering, and sarcastic abuse of everybody around. The name (Cynic, dog-like) denotes this peculiarity. The anecdotes relating to Diogenes illustrate his coarse denunciation of men in general and their luxurious ways. He set at defiance all the conventions of courtesy and of decency; spoke his mind on everything without fear or remorse; and delighted in his antagonism to public opinion. He followed the public and obtrusive life of Sokrates, but instead of dialectic skill, his force lay in vituperation, sarcasm, and repartee. 'To Sokrates,' says Epiktetus, 'Zeus assigned the cross-examining function; to Diogenes, the magisterial and chastising function; to Zeno (the Stoic), the didactic and dogmatical.'

The Cynics had thus in full measure one of the rewards of asceticism, the pride of superiority and power. They did not profess an end apart from their own happiness; they believed and maintained that theirs was the only safe road to happiness. They agreed with the Cyrenaics as to the end; they differed as to the means.

The founders of the sect, being men of culture, set great store by education, from which, however, they excluded (as it would appear) both the Artistic and the Intellectual elements of the superior instruction of the time, namely, Music, and the Sciences of Geometry, Astronomy, &c. Plato's writings and teachings were held in low esteem. Physical training, self-denial and endurance, and literary or Rhetorical cultivation, comprise the items taught by Diogenes when he became a slave, and was made tutor to the sons of his master.

IV.—As to the Moral Code, the Cynics were dissenters from the received usages of society. They disapproved of marriage laws, and maintained the liberty of individual tastes in the intercourse of the sexes. Being free-thinkers in religion they had no respect for any of the customs founded on religion.

V. The collateral relations of Cynical Ethics to Politics and to Theology afford no scope for additional observations. The Cynic and Cyrenaic both stood aloof from the affairs of the state, and were alike disbelievers in the gods.

The Cynics appear to have been inclined to communism among themselves, which was doubtless easy with their views as to the wants of life. It is thought not unlikely that Sokrates himself held views of communism both as to property and to wives; being in this respect also the prompter of Plato (Grant's Ethics of Aristotle, Essay ii.).

The CYRENAIC system originated with ARISTIPPUS of Cyrene, another hearer and companion of Sokrates. The temperament of Aristippus was naturally inactive, easy, and luxurious; nevertheless he set great value on mental cultivation and accomplishments. His conversations with Sokrates form one of the most interesting chapters of Xenophon's Memorabilia, and are the key to the plan of life ultimately elaborated by him. Sokrates finding out his disposition, repeats all the arguments in favour of the severe and ascetic system. He urges the necessity of strength, courage, energy, self-denial, in order to attain the post of ruler over others; which, however, Aristippus fences by saying that he has no ambition to rule; he prefers the middle course of a free man, neither ruling nor ruled over. Next, Sokrates recalls the dangers and evil contingencies of subjection, of being oppressed, unjustly treated, sold into slavery, and the consequent wretchedness to one unhardened by an adequate discipline. It is in this argument that he recites the well-known apologue called the choice of Herakles; in which, Virtue on the one hand, and Pleasure with attendant vice on the other, with their respective consequences, are set before a youth in his opening career. The whole argument with Aristippus was purely prudential; but Aristippus was not convinced nor brought over to the Sokratic ideal. He nevertheless adopted a no less prudential and self-denying plan of his own.

Aristippus did not write an account of his system; and the particulars of his life, which would show how he acted it, are but imperfectly preserved. He was the first theorist to avow and maintain that Pleasure, and the absence of Pain, are the proper, the direct, the immediate, the sole end of living; not of course mere present pleasures and present relief from pain, but present and future taken in one great total. He would surrender present pleasure, and incur present pain, with a view to greater future good; but he did not believe in the necessity of that extreme surrender and renunciation enjoined by the Cynics. He gratified all his appetites and cravings within the limits of safety. He could sail close upon the island of Calypso without surrendering himself to the sorceress. Instead of deadening the sexual appetite he gave it scope, and yet resisted the dangerous consequences of associating with Hetaerae. In his enjoyments he was free from jealousies; thinking it no derogation to his pleasure that others had the same pleasure. Having thus a fair share of natural indulgences, he dispenses with the Cynic pride of superiority and the luxury of contemning other men. Strength of will was required for this course no less than for the Cynic life.

Aristippus put forward strongly the impossibility of realizing all the Happiness that might seem within one's reach; such were the attendant and deterring evils, that many pleasures had to be foregone by the wise man. Sometimes even the foolish person attained more pleasure than the wise; such is the lottery of life; but, as a general rule, the fact would be otherwise. The wisest could not escape the natural evils, pain and death; but envy, passionate love, and superstition, being the consequences of vain and mistaken opinion, might be conquered by a knowledge of the real nature of Good and Evil.

As a proper appendage to such a system, Aristippus sketched a Psychology of Pleasure and Pain, which was important as a beginning, and is believed to have brought the subject into prominence. The soul comes under three conditions,—a gentle, smooth, equable motion, corresponding to Pleasure; a rough, violent motion, which is Pain; and a calm, quiescent state, indifference or Unconsciousness. More remarkable is the farther assertion that Pleasure is only present or realized consciousness; the memory of pleasures past, and the idea of pleasures to come, are not to be counted; the painful accompaniments of desire, hope, and fear, are sufficient to neutralize any enjoyment that may arise from ideal bliss, Consequently, the happiness of a life means the sum total of these moments of realized or present pleasure. He recognized pleasures of the mind, as well as of the body; sympathy with the good fortunes of friends or country gives a thrill of genuine and lively joy. Still, the pleasures and the pains of the body, and of one's own self, are more intense; witness the bodily inflictions used in punishing offenders.

The Cyrenaics denied that there is anything just, or honourable, or base, by nature; all depended on the laws and customs. These laws and customs the wise man obeys, to avoid punishment and discredit from the society where he lives; doubtless, also, from higher motives, if the political constitution, and his fellow citizens generally, can inspire him with respect.

Neither the Cynics nor the Cyrenaics made any profession of generous or disinterested impulses.

ARISTOTLE. [384-322 B.C.]

Three treatises on Ethics have come down associated with the name of Aristotle; one large work, the Nicomachean Ethics, referred to by general consent as the chief and important source of Aristotle's views; and two smaller works, the Eudemian Ethics, and the Magna Moralia, attributed by later critics to his disciples. Even of the large work, which consists of ten books, three books (V. VI. VII.), recurring in the Eudemian Ethics, are considered by Sir A. Grant, though not by other critics, to have been composed by Eudemus, the supposed author of this second treatise, and a leading disciple of Aristotle.

Like many other Aristotelian treatises, the Nicomachean Ethics is deficient in method and consistency on any view of its composition. But the profound and sagacious remarks scattered throughout give it a permanent interest, as the work of a great mind. There may be extracted from it certain leading doctrines, whose point of departure was Platonic, although greatly modified and improved by the genius and personality of Aristotle.

Our purpose will be best served by a copious abstract of the Nicomachean Ethics.

Book First discusses the Chief Good, or the Highest End of all human endeavours. Every exercise of the human powers aims at some good; all the arts of life have their several ends—medicine, ship-building, generalship. But the ends of these special arts are all subordinate to some higher end; which end is the chief good, and the subject of the highest art of all, the Political; for as Politics aims at the welfare of the state, or aggregate of individuals, it is identical with and comprehends the welfare of the individual (Chaps. I., II.).

As regards the method of the science, the highest exactness is not attainable; the political art studies what is just, honourable, and good; and these are matters about which the utmost discrepancy of opinion prevails. From such premises, the conclusions which we draw can only be probabilities. The man of experience and cultivation will expect nothing more. Youths, who are inexperienced in the concerns of life, and given to follow their impulses, can hardly appreciate our reasoning, and will derive no benefit from it: but reasonable men will find the knowledge highly profitable (III.).

Resuming the main question—What is the highest practical good—the aim of the all-comprehending political science?—we find an agreement among men as to the name happiness [Greek: eudaimonia]; but great differences as to the nature of the thing. The many regard it as made up of the tangible elements—pleasures, wealth, or honour; while individuals vary in their estimate according to each man's state for the time being; the sick placing it in health, the poor in wealth, the consciously ignorant in knowledge. On the other hand, certain philosophers [in allusion to Plato] set up an absolute good,—an Idea of the Good, apart from all the particulars, yet imparting to each its property of being good (IV.).

Referring to men's lives (as a clue to their notions of the good), we find three prominent varieties; the life of pleasure or sensuality,—the political life, aspiring to honour,—and the contemplative life. The first is the life of the brutes, although countenanced by men high in power. The second is too precarious, as depending on others, and is besides only a means to an end—namely, our consciousness of our own merits; for the ambitious man seeks to be honoured for his virtue and by good judges—thus showing that he too regards virtue as the superior good. Yet neither will virtue satisfy all the conditions. The virtuous man may slumber or pass his life in inactivity, or may experience the maximum of calamity; and such a man cannot be regarded as happy. The money-lender is still less entitled, for he is an unnatural character; and money is obviously good as a means. So that there remains only the life of contemplation; respecting which more presently (V.).

To a review of the Platonic doctrine, Aristotle devotes a whole chapter. He urges against it various objections, very much of a piece with those brought against the theory of Ideas generally. If there be but one good, there should be but one science; the alleged Idea is merely a repetition of the phenomena; the recognized goods (i.e., varieties of good) cannot be brought under one Idea; moreover, even granting the reality of such an Idea, it is useless for all practical purposes. What our science seeks is Good, human and attainable (VI.).

The Supreme End is what is not only chosen as an End, but is never chosen except as an End: not chosen both for itself and with a view to something ulterior. It must thus be—(1) An end-in-itself pursued for its own sake; (2) it must farther be self-sufficing leaving no outstanding wants—man's sociability being taken into account and gratified. Happiness is such an end; but we must state more clearly wherein happiness consists.

This will appear, if we examine what is the work appropriate and peculiar to man. Every artist, the sculptor, carpenter, currier (so too the eye and the hand), has his own peculiar work: and good, to him, consists in his performing that work well. Man also has his appropriate and peculiar work: not merely living—for that he has in common with vegetables; nor the life of sensible perception—for that he has in common with other animals, horses, oxen, &c. There remains the life of man as a rational being: that is, as a being possessing reason along with other mental elements, which last are controllable or modifiable by reason. This last life is the peculiar work or province of man. For our purpose, we must consider man, not merely as possessing, but as actually exercising and putting in action, these mental capacities. Moreover, when we talk generally of the work or province of an artist, we always tacitly imply a complete and excellent artist in his own craft: and so likewise when we speak of the work of a man, we mean that work as performed by a complete and competent man. Since the work of man, therefore, consists in the active exercise of the mental capacities, conformably to reason, the supreme good of man will consist in performing this work with excellence or virtue. Herein he will obtain happiness, if we assume continuance throughout a full period of life: one day or a short time is not sufficient for happiness (VII.).

Aristotle thus lays down the outline of man's supreme Good or Happiness: which he declares to be the beginning or principle [Greek: archae] of his deductions, and to be obtained in the best way that the subject admits. He next proceeds to compare this outline with the various received opinions on the subject of happiness, showing that it embraces much of what has been considered essential by former philosophers: such as being 'a good of the mind,' and not a mere external good: being equivalent to 'living well and doing well,' another definition; consisting in virtue (the Cynics); in practical wisdom—[Greek: phronaesis] (Sokrates); in philosophy; or in all these coupled with pleasure (Plato, in the Philebus). Agreeing with those who insisted on virtue, Aristotle considers his own theory an improvement, by requiring virtue in act, and not simply in possession. Moreover, he contends that to the virtuous man, virtuous performance is in itself pleasurable; so that no extraneous source of pleasure is needed. Such (he says) is the judgment of the truly excellent man; which must be taken as conclusive respecting the happiness, as well as the honourable pre-eminence of the best mental exercises. Nevertheless, he admits (so far complying with the Cyrenaics) that some extraneous conditions cannot be dispensed with; the virtuous man can hardly exhibit his virtue in act, without some aid from friends and property; nor can he be happy if his person is disgusting to behold or his parentage vile (VIII.).

This last admission opens the door to those that place good fortune in the same line with happiness, and raises the question, how happiness is attained. By teaching? By habitual exercise? By divine grace? By Fortune? If there be any gift vouchsafed by divine grace to man, it ought to be this; but whether such be the case or not, it is at any rate the most divine and best of all acquisitions. To ascribe such an acquisition as this to Fortune would be absurd. Nature, which always aims at the best, provides that it shall be attained, through a certain course of teaching and training, by all who are not physically or mentally disqualified. It thus falls within the scope of political science, whose object is to impart the best character and active habits to the citizens. It is with good reason that we never call a horse happy, for he can never reach such an attainment; nor indeed can a child be so called while yet a child, for the same reason; though in his case we may hope for the future, presuming on a full term of life, as was before postulated (IX.). But-this long term allows room for extreme calamities and change in a man's lot. Are we then to say, with Solon, that no one can be called happy so long as he lives? or that the same man may often pass backwards and forwards from happiness to misery? No; this only shows the mistake of resting happiness upon so unsound a basis as external fortune. The only true basis of it is the active manifestation of mental excellence, which no ill fortune can efface from a man's mind (X.). Such a man will bear calamity, if it comes, with dignity, and can never be made thoroughly miserable. If he be moderately supplied as to external circumstances, he is to be styled happy; that is, happy as a man—as far as man can reasonably expect. Even after his decease he-will be affected, yet only feebly affected, by the good or ill fortune of his surviving children. Aristotle evidently assigns little or no value to presumed posthumous happiness (XI.).

In his love of subtle distinctions, he asks, Is happiness a thing admirable in itself, or a thing praiseworthy? It is admirable in itself; for what is praiseworthy has a relative character, and is praised as conducive to some ulterior end; while the chief good must be an End in itself, for the sake of which everything else is done (XII.). [This is a defective recognition of Relativity.]

Having assumed as one of the items of his definition, that man's happiness must be in his special or characteristic work, performed with perfect excellence,—Aristotle now proceeds to settle wherein that excellence consists. This leads to a classification of the parts of the soul. The first distribution is, into Rational and Irrational; whether these two are separable in fact, or only logically separable (like concave and convex), is immaterial to the present enquiry. Of the irrational, the lowest portion is the Vegetative [Greek: phytikon], which seems most active in sleep; a state where bad men and good are on a par, and which is incapable of any human excellence. The next portion is the Appetitive [Greek: epithymaetikon], which is not thus incapable. It partakes of reason, yet it includes something conflicting with reason. These conflicting tendencies are usually modifiable by reason, and may become in the temperate man completely obedient to reason. There remains Reason—the highest and sovereign portion of the soul. Human excellence [Greek: aretae] or virtue, is either of the Appetitive part,—moral [Greek: aethikae] virtue; or of the Reason—intellectual [Greek: dianoaetikae] virtue. Liberality and temperance are Moral virtues; philosophy, intelligence, and wisdom, Intellectual (XIII.).

Such is an outline of the First Book, having for its subject the Chief Good, the Supreme End of man.

Book Second embraces the consideration of points relative to the Moral Virtues; it also commences Aristotle's celebrated definition and classification of the virtues or excellencies.

Whereas intellectual excellence is chiefly generated and improved by teaching, moral excellence is a result of habit [Greek: ethos]; whence its name (Ethical). Hence we may see that moral excellence is no inherent part of our nature: if it were, it could not be reversed by habit—any more than a stone can acquire from any number of repetitions the habit of moving upward, or fire the habit of moving downward. These moral excellencies are neither a part of our nature, nor yet contrary to our nature: we are by nature fitted to take them on, but they are brought to consummation through habit. It is not with them, as with our senses, where nature first gives us the power to see and hear, and where we afterwards exercise that power. Moral virtues are acquired only by practice. We learn to build or to play the harp, by building or playing the harp: so too we become just or courageous, by a course of just or courageous acts. This is attested by all lawgivers in their respective cities; all of them shape the characters of their respective citizens, by enforcing habitual practice. Some do it well; others ill; according to the practice, so will be the resulting character; as he that is practised in building badly, will be a bad builder in the end; and he that begins on a bad habit of playing the harp, becomes confirmed into a bad player. Hence the importance of making the young perform good actions habitually and from the beginning. The permanent ethical acquirements are generated by uniform and persistent practice (I.). [This is the earliest statement of the philosophy of habit.]

Everything thus turns upon practice: and Aristotle reminds us that his purpose here is, not simply to teach what virtue is, but to produce virtuous agents. How are we to know what the practice should be? It must be conformable to right reason: every one admits this, and we shall explain it further in a future book. But let us proclaim at once, that in regard to moral action, as in regard to health, no exact rules can be laid down. Amidst perpetual variability, each agent must in the last resort be guided by the circumstances of the case. Still, however, something may be done to help him. Here Aristotle proceeds to introduce the famous doctrine of the MEAN. We may err, as regards health, both by too much and by too little of exercise, food, or drink. The same holds good in regard to temperance, courage, and the other excellences (II.).

His next remark is another of his characteristic doctrines, that the test of a formed habit of virtue, is to feel no pain; he that feels pain in brave acts is a coward. Whence he proceeds to illustrate the position, that moral virtue [Greek: aethikae aretae] has to do with pleasures and pains. A virtuous education consists in making us feel pleasure and pain at proper objects, and on proper occasions. Punishment is a discipline of pain. Some philosophers (the Cynics) have been led by this consideration to make virtue consist in apathy, or insensibility; but Aristotle would regulate, and not extirpate our sensibilities (III.).

But does it not seem a paradox to say (according to the doctrine of habit in I.), that a man becomes just, by performing just actions; since, if he performs just actions, he is already just? The answer is given by a distinction drawn in a comparison with the training in the common arts of life. That a man is a good writer or musician, we see by his writing or his music; we take no account of the state of his mind in other respects: if he knows how to do this, it is enough. But in respect to moral excellence, such knowledge is not enough: a man may do just or temperate acts, but he is not necessarily a just or temperate man, unless he does them with right intention and on their own account. This state of the internal mind, which is requisite to constitute the just and temperate man, follows upon the habitual practice of just and temperate acts, and follows upon nothing else. But most men are content to talk without any such practice. They fancy erroneously that knowing, without doing, will make a good man. [We have here the reaction against the Sokratic doctrine of virtue, and also the statement of the necessity of a prosper motive, in order to virtue.]

Aristotle now sets himself to find a definition of virtue, per genus et differentiam. There are three qualities in the Soul—Passions [Greek: pathae], as Desire, Anger, Fear, &c., followed by pleasure or pain; Capacities or Faculties [Greek: dynameis], as our capability of being angry, afraid, affected by pity, &c.; Fixed tendencies, acquirements, or states [Greek: hexeis]. To which of the three does virtue or excellence belong? It cannot be a Passion; for passions are not in themselves good or evil, and are not accompanied with deliberate choice [Greek: prouiresis], will, or intention. Nor is it a Faculty: for we are not praised or blamed because we can have such or such emotions; and moreover our faculties are innate, which virtue is not. Accordingly, virtue, or excellence, must be an acquirement [Greek: hexis]—a State (V.). This is the genus.

Now, as to the differentia, which brings us to a more specific statement of the doctrine of the Mean. The specific excellence of virtue is to be got at from quantity in the abstract, from which we derive the conceptions of more, less, and equal; or excess, defect, and mean; the equal being the mean between excess and defect. But in the case of moral actions, the arithmetical mean may not hold (for example, six between two and ten); it must be a mean relative to the individual; Milo must have more food than a novice in the training school. In the arts, we call a work perfect, when anything either added or taken away would spoil it. Now, virtue, which, like Nature, is better and more exact than any art, has for its subject-matter, passions and actions; all which are wrong either in defect or in excess. Virtue aims at the mean between them, or the maximum of Good: which implies a correct estimation of all the circumstances of the act,—when we ought to do it—under what conditions—towards whom—for what purpose—in what manner, &c. This is the praise-worthy mean, which virtue aspires to. We may err in many ways (for evil, as the Pythagoreans said, is of the nature of the Infinite, good of the Finite), but we can do right only in one way; so much easier is the path of error.

Combining then this differentia with the genus, as above established, the complete definition is given thus—'Virtue is an acquirement or fixed state, tending by deliberate purpose (genus), towards a mean relative to us (difference).' To which is added the following all-important qualification, 'determined by reason [Greek: logos], and as the judicious man [Greek: ho Phronimos] would determine.' Such is the doctrine of the Mean, which combines the practical matter-of-fact quality of moderation, recognized by all sages, with a high and abstract conception, starting from the Pythagorean remark quoted by Aristotle, 'the Infinite, or Indefinite, is evil, the Finite or the Definite is good,' and re-appearing in Plato as 'conformity to measure' [Greek: metriotaes], by which he (Plato) proposes to discriminate between good and evil. The concluding qualification of virtue—'a rational determination, according to the ideal judicious man'—is an attempt to assign a standard or authority for what is the proper 'Mean;' an authority purely ideal or imaginary; the actual authority being always, rightly or wrongly, the society of the time.

Aristotle admits that his doctrine of Virtue being a mean, cannot have an application quite universal; because there are some acts that in their very name connote badness, which are wrong therefore, not from excess or defect, but in themselves (VI.). He next proceeds to resolve his general doctrine into particulars; enumerating the different virtues stated, each as a mean, between two extremes—Courage, Temperance, Liberality, Magnanimity, Magnificence, Meekness, Amiability or Friendliness, Truthfulness, Justice (VII.). They are described in detail in the two following books. In chap. VIII., he qualifies his doctrine of Mean and Extremes, by the remark that one Extreme may be much farther removed from the Mean than the other. Cowardice and Rashness are the extremes of Courage, but Cowardice is farthest removed from the Mean.

The concluding chapter (IX.) of the Book reflects on the great difficulty of hitting the mean in all things, and of correctly estimating all the requisite circumstances, in each particular case. He gives as practical rules:—To avoid at all events the worst extreme; to keep farthest from our natural bent; to guard against the snare of pleasure. Slight mistakes on either side are little blamed, but grave and conspicuous cases incur severe censure. Yet how far the censure ought to go, is difficult to lay down beforehand in general terms. There is the same difficulty in regard to all particular cases, and all the facts of sense: which must be left, after all, to the judgment of Sensible Perception [Greek: aisthaesis].

Book Third takes up the consideration of the Virtues in detail, but prefaces them with a dissertation, occupying five chapters, on the Voluntary and Involuntary. Since praise and blame are bestowed only on voluntary actions,—the involuntary being pardoned, and even pitied,—it is requisite to define Voluntary and Involuntary. What is done under physical compulsion, or through ignorance, is clearly involuntary. What is done under the fear of greater evils is partly voluntary, and partly involuntary. Such actions are voluntary in the sense of being a man's own actions; involuntary in that they are not chosen on their own account; being praised or blamed according to the circumstances. There are cases where it is difficult to say which of two conflicting pressures ought to preponderate, and compulsion is an excuse often misapplied: but compulsion, in its strict sense, is not strength of motive at all; it is taking the action entirely out of our own hands. As regards Ignorance, a difference is made. Ignorance of a general rule is matter for censure; ignorance of particular circumstances may be excused. [This became the famous maxim of law,—'Ignorantia facti excusat, ignorantia juris non excusat.'] If the agent, when better informed, repents of his act committed in ignorance, he affords good proof that the act done was really involuntary. Acts done from anger or desire (which are in the agent's self) are not to be held as involuntary. (1) If they were, the actions of brutes and children would be involuntary. (2) Some of these acts are morally good and approved. (3) Obligation often attaches to these feelings. (4) What is done from desire is pleasant; the involuntary is painful. (5) Errors of passion are to be eschewed, no less than those of reason (I.).

The next point is the nature of Purpose, Determination, or Deliberate Preference [Greek: proairesis], which is in the closest kindred with moral excellence, and is even more essential, in the ethical estimate, than acts themselves. This is a part of the Voluntary; but not co-extensive therewith. For it excludes sudden and unpremeditated acts; and is not shared by irrational beings. It is distinct from desire, from anger, from wish, and from opinion; with all which it is sometimes confounded. Desire is often opposed to it; the incontinent man acts upon his desires, but without any purpose, or even against his purpose; the continent man acts upon his purpose, but against his desires. Purpose is still more distinct from anger, and is even distinct (though in a less degree) from wish [Greek: boulaesis], which is choice of the End, while Purpose is of the Means; moreover, we sometimes wish for impossibilities, known as such, but we never purpose them. Nor is purpose identical with opinion [Greek: doxa], which relates to truth and falsehood, not to virtue and vice. It is among our voluntary proceedings, and includes intelligence; but is it identical with predeliberated action and its results? (II.)

To answer this query, Aristotle analyzes the process of Deliberation, as to its scope, and its mode of operation. We exclude from deliberation things Eternal, like the Kosmos, or the incommensurability of the side and the diagonal of a square; also things mutable, that are regulated by necessity, by nature, or by chance; things out of our power; also final ends of action, for we deliberate only about the means to ends. The deliberative process is compared to the investigation of a geometrical problem. We assume the end, and enquire by what means it can be produced; then again, what will produce the means, until we at last reach something that we ourselves can command. If, after such deliberation, we see our way to execution, we form a Purpose, or Deliberate Preference [Greek: proairesis]. Purpose is then definable as a deliberative appetency of things in our power (III.).

Next is started the important question as to the choice of the final End. Deliberation and Purpose respect means; our Wish respects the End—but what is the End that we wish? Two opinions are noticed; according to one (Plato) we are moved to the good; according to the other, to the apparent good. Both opinions are unsatisfactory; the one would make out an incorrect choice to be no choice at all; the other would take away all constancy from ends.

Aristotle settles the point by distinguishing, in this case as in others, between what bears a given character simply and absolutely, and what bears the same character relatively to this or that individual. The object of Wish, simply, truly, and absolutely, is the Good; while the object of Wish, to any given individual, is what appears Good to him. But by the Absolute here, Aristotle explains that he means what appears good to the virtuous and intelligent man; who is is declared, here as elsewhere, to be the infallible standard; while most men, misled by pleasure, choose what is not truly good. In like manner, Aristotle affirms, that those substances are truly and absolutely wholesome, which are wholesome to the healthy and well-constituted man; other substances may be wholesome to the sick or degenerate. Aristotle's Absolute is thus a Relative with its correlate chosen or imagined by himself.

He then proceeds to maintain that virtue and vice are voluntary, and in our own power. The arguments are these. (1) If it be in our power to act right, the contrary is equally in our own power; hence vice is as much voluntary as virtue. (2) Man must be admitted to be the origin of his own actions. (3) Legislators and others punish men for wickedness, and confer honour on good actions; even culpable ignorance and negligence are punished. (4) Our character itself, or our fixed acquirements, are in our power, being produced by our successive acts; men become intemperate, by acts of drunkenness. (5) Not only the defects of the mind, but the infirmities of the body also, are blamed, when arising through our own neglect and want of training. (6) Even if it should be said that all men aim at the apparent good, but cannot control their mode of conceiving [Greek: phantasia] the end; still each person, being by his acts the cause of his own fixed acquirements, must be to a certain extent the cause of his own conceptions. On this head, too, Aristotle repeats the clenching argument, that the supposed imbecility of conceiving would apply alike to virtue and to vice; so that if virtuous action be regarded as voluntary, vicious action must be so regarded likewise. It must be remembered that a man's fixed acquirements or habits are not in his own power, in the same sense and degree in which his separate acts are in his own power. Each act, from first to last, is alike in his power; but in regard to the habit, it is only the initiation thereof that is thoroughly in his power; the habit, like a distemper, is taken on by imperceptible steps in advance (V.).

In the foregoing account of the Ethical questions connected with the Will, Aristotle is happily unembroiled with the modern controversy. The mal-apropos of 'Freedom' had not been applied to voluntary action. Accordingly, he treats the whole question from the inductive side, distinguishing the cases where people are praised or blamed for their conduct, from those where praise and blame are inapplicable as being powerless. It would have been well if the method had never been departed from; a sound Psychology would have improved the induction, but would never have introduced any question except as to the relative strength of the different feelings operating as motives to voluntary conduct.

In one part of his argument, however, where he maintains that vice must be voluntary, because its opposite, virtue, is voluntary, he is already touching on the magical island of the bad enchantress; allowing a question of fact to be swayed by the notion of factitious dignity. Virtue is assumed to be voluntary, not on the evidence of fact, but because there would be an indignity cast on it, to suppose otherwise. Now, this consideration, which Aristotle gives way to on various occasions, is the motive underlying the objectionable metaphor.

After the preceding digression on the Voluntary and Involuntary, Aristotle takes up the consideration of the Virtues in order, beginning with COURAGE, which was one of the received cardinal virtues, and a subject of frequent discussion. (Plato, Laches, Protagoras, Republic, &c.)

Courage [Greek: andreia], the mean between timidity and foolhardiness, has to do with evils. All evils are objects of fear; but there are some evils that even the brave man does right to fear—as disgrace. Poverty or disease he ought not to fear. Yet, he will not acquire the reputation of courage from not fearing these, nor will he acquire it if he be exempt from fear when about to be scourged. Again, if a man be afraid of envy from others, or of insults to his children or wife, he will not for that reason be regarded as a coward. It is by being superior to the fear of great evils, that a man is extolled as courageous; and the greatest of evils is death, since it is a final close, as well of good as of evil. Hence the dangers of war are the greatest occasion of courage. But the cause must be honourable (VI.).

Thus the key to true courage is the quality or merit of the action. That man is brave, who both fears, and affronts without fear, what he ought and when he ought: who suffers and acts according to the value of the cause, and according to a right judgment of it. The opposites or extremes of courage include (1) Deficiency of fear; (2) Excess of fear, cowardice; (3) Deficiency of daring, another formula for cowardice; (4) Excess of daring, Rashness. Between these, Courage is the mean (VII.).

Aristotle enumerates five analogous forms of quasi-courage, approaching more or less to genuine courage. (1) The first, most like to the true, is political courage, which is moved to encounter danger by the Punishments and the Honours of society. The desire of honour rises to virtue, and is a noble spring of action. (2) A second kind is the effect of Experience, which dispels seeming terrors, and gives skill to meet real danger. (3) Anger, Spirit, Energy [Greek: thymos] is a species of courage, founded on physical power and excitement, but not under the guidance of high emotions. (4) The Sanguine temperament, by overrating the chances of success, gives courage. (5) Lastly, Ignorance of the danger may have the same effect as courage (VIII.).

Courage is mainly connected with pain and loss. Men are called brave for the endurance of pain, even although it bring pleasure in the end, as to the boxer who endures bruises from the hope of honour. Death is painful, and most so to the man that by his virtue has made life valuable. Such a man is to be considered more courageous, as a soldier, than a mercenary with little to lose (IX.).

The account of Courage thus given is remarkably exhaustive; although the constituent parts might have been more carefully disentangled. A clear line should be drawn between two aspects of courage. The one is the resistance to Fear properly so called; that is, to the perturbation that exaggerates coming evil: a courageous man, in this sense, is one that possesses the true measure of impending danger, and acts according to that, and not according to an excessive measure. The other aspect of Courage, is what gives it all its nobleness as a virtue, namely, Self-sacrifice, or the deliberate encountering of evil, for some honourable or virtuous cause. When a man knowingly risks his life in battle for his country, he may be called courageous, but he is still better described as a heroic and devoted man.

Inasmuch as the leading form of heroic devotion, in the ancient world, was exposure of life in war, Self-sacrifice was presented under the guise of Courage, and had no independent standing as a cardinal virtue. From this circumstance, paganism is made to appear in a somewhat disadvantageous light, as regards self-denying duties.

Next in order among the excellences or virtues of the irrational department of mind is TEMPERANCE, or Moderation, [Greek: sophrosynae], a mean or middle state in the enjoyment of pleasure. Pleasures are mental and bodily. With the mental, as love of learning or of honour, temperance is not concerned. Nor with the bodily pleasures of muscular exercise, of hearing and of smell, but only with the animal pleasures of touch and taste: in fact, sensuality resides in touch; the pleasure of eating being a mode of contact (X.).

In the desires natural and common to men, as eating and the nuptial couch, men are given to err, and error is usually on the side of excess. But it is in the case of special tastes or preferences, that people are most frequently intemperate. Temperance does not apply to enduring pains, except those of abstinence from pleasures. The extreme of insensibility to pleasure is rarely found, and has no name. The temperate man has the feelings of pleasure and pain, but moderates his desires according to right reason (XL.). He desires what he ought, when he ought, and as he ought: correctly estimating each separate case (XII.). The question is raised, which is most voluntary, Cowardice or Intemperance? (1) Intemperance is more voluntary than Cowardice, for the one consists in choosing pleasure, while in the other there is a sort of compulsory avoidance of pain. (2) Temperance is easier to acquire as a habit than Courage. (3) In Intemperance, the particular acts are voluntary, although not the habit; in Cowardice, the first acts are involuntary, while by habit, it tends to become voluntary (XII.).