by Aristotle
There are five 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 said34) of what is fearful, but of the resources they have [15] to meet what is fearful. The third kind is due to inexperience and ignorance; 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 dangers—for wine makes them sanguine. [20] 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 [25] 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 fighters); civic courage is the effect of law. But in truth none of these [30] 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 [35] 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 [1229b1] 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 [5] 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 [10] 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 [15] 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 [20] 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 greatly so, while in the opposite way, to the foolhardy man the frightening seems [25] 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 passion—as the Celts take up their arms to go to meet the waves; in general, all the bravery of [30] 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 flee from greater evils, he would not justly be called brave. For if dying were pleasant, the [35] profligate would have often died because of his incontinence, just as now—since what causes death is pleasant though not death itself—many 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, [1230a1] as many do; to use Agathon’s 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 [5] 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 confident not because they [10] know what is frightening but because they know how to help themselves in dangers. Nor is all that makes men fight more boldly courage; for then, as Theognis puts it, strength and wealth would be bravery—‘every 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; [15] 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 [20] Hector faced the danger from Achilles—‘and shame seized Hector’; and, again, ‘Polydamas will be the first to taunt me’.35 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 [25] 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—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 [30] 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 ignorance—for his excellence rather makes him judge correctly—nor 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 [35] tolerably adequately for our present purpose.
2 · After this we must try to draw certain distinctions regarding profligacy and temperance. ‘Profligate’ has many senses. A man is profligate 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 [1230b1] 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 [5] the temperate man acts rightly—e.g. children. For we give them the same name as the profligate, but because of this latter kind of profligacy. 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. Profligacy, then, having many senses, it is clear that it has to do with certain pleasures and pains, and that the forms differ [10] 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 ‘profligacy’, 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 [15] 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 chiefly of such as the rustics introduced on the stage by comic writers, who keep aloof from even moderate and necessary pleasures. [20]
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 [25] 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 discord; nor, again, in regard to olfactory pleasure or pain at pleasant or disagreeable odours. Nor is a man called profligate for feeling or want of feeling in regard to such [30] 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 profligate any more than those who were charmed by the [35] Sirens. Temperance and profligacy 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 [1231a1] 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 [5] 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 [10] pleasure, that of eating or drinking; the odours enjoyed for their own nature are such as those of flowers (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 [15] 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 profligacy as concerned with objects of touch. Similarly it is with such pleasures that the profligate man is concerned. For drunkenness, gluttony, lecherousness, [20] gormandizing, and all such things are concerned with the above-mentioned senses; and these are the parts into which we divide profligacy. But in regard to the pleasures of sight, hearing, and smell, no one is called profligate if he is in excess, but we blame without considering disgraceful such faults, and all in [25] regard to which we do not speak of men as continent; the incontinent are neither profligate nor temperate.
The man, then, so constituted as to be deficient 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 profligate. For all naturally take delight in these objects [30] and conceive appetites for them, and neither are nor are called profligate; 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, for they are not deficient in the feeling of joy or pain, but rather in excess.
[35] 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 profligate is concerned is temperance, temperance would be the mean state in regard to the above-mentioned sensible pleasures, the mean between profligacy and insensibility, the excess being profligacy [1231b1] 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.
[5] 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 savage—all such being names for the same [10] state—the 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 contempt—for slowness to anger is opposed to quickness, violence to quietness, long persistence in that feeling of pain which we call anger to short. And [15] 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 opposite—it is clear that there is a mean to this inequality. Since, then, [20] 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 [25] mean between the irascible and the slavish.
4 · Also magnanimity, magnificence, and liberality are mean states—liberality 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 [30] 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 defect—and where there are extremes, there is also a mean and that is best, a single best for each kind of action—liberality must [35] be the mean between lavishness and meanness in regard to the acquisition and expenditure of wealth. I take wealth and the art of wealth in two senses; the art in one sense being the proper use of one’s property (say of a shoe or a coat), in the other [1232a1] an accidental mode of using it—not 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 [5] 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 superfluities. There are also species of these genera which exceed or fall short as [10] regards parts of the subject-matter of liberality, e.g. the sparing, the skinflint, 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 skinflint 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 [15] one class of spendthrift is a waster by his disorderly expenditure, the other a fool who cannot bear the pain of calculation.
5 · As to magnanimity we must define its specific nature from the qualities that we ascribe to the magnanimous. For just as with other things, in virtue [20] 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 dignified, the foolhardy to that of the brave. For they are [25] 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 danger—but 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 [30] a certain greatness of soul and faculty; and so he seems like the dignified and the magnificent man, since36 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 [35] seem to be pleasures;37 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; [1232b1] each excellence makes one disdainful of what is esteemed great contrary to reason (e.g. bravery disdains dangers of this kind—for it considers it disgraceful to hold38 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 [5] 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, [10] as regards honour, life, and wealth—about 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.