---
title: "On Moral Virtue · De virtute morali"
author: "Plutarch"
translator: "Matthew Morgan, rev. William W. Goodwin"
languages: [grc, en]
shelf: "Philosophy"
section: 1 of 2
url: https://scriptura.si/works/plutarch-moral-virtue/1/
cite: "Plutarch, tr. Matthew Morgan, rev. William W. Goodwin, On Moral Virtue · De virtute morali, section 1. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/plutarch-moral-virtue/1/"
---

# On Moral Virtue · De virtute morali

*Plutarch, tr. Matthew Morgan, rev. William W. Goodwin*

Against the Stoics: the soul has a part that feels, and virtue is the right measure of the passions, not their removal.

> Greek: ed. Grēgorios N. Vernardakēs, from the Perseus Digital Library (canonical-greekLit, tlg0007.tlg094, CC BY-SA 4.0).

> English: Matthew Morgan, rev. William W. Goodwin, from the Perseus Digital Library (tlg0007.tlg094.perseus-eng4). Notes are not included.

> Rows follow the references the two texts share (chapters and sections), cut where both reach the end of a sentence.

## 1. Sections 1–7

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/plutarch-moral-virtue/1/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/plutarch-moral-virtue/1/#p-N

[¶0] 1. MY design in this essay is to treat of that virtue which is called and accounted moral, and is chiefly distinguished from the contemplative, in its having for the matter thereof the passions of the mind, and for its form, right reason; and herein to consider the nature of it and how it subsists, and whether that part of the soul wherein it resides be endowed with reason of its own, inherent in itself, or whether it participates of that which is foreign; and if the latter, whether it does this after the manner of those things which are mingled with what is better than themselves, or whether, as being distinct itself but yet under the dominion and superintendency of another, it may be said to partake of the power of the predominant faculty. For that it is possible for virtue to exist and continue altogether independent of matter, and free from all mixture, I take to be most manifest. But in the first place I. conceive it may be very useful briefly to run over the opinions of other philosophers, not so much for the vanity of giving an historical account thereof, as that, they being premised, ours may thence receive the greater light and be more firmly established.

> Greek: 1. περὶ τῆς ἠθικῆς λεγομένης; ἀρετῆς καὶ δοκούσης, ᾧ δὴ μάλιστα τῆς θεωρητικῆς διαφέρει, τῷ τὸ μὲν πάθος ὕλην ἔχειν τὸν δὲ λόγον εἶδος, εἰπεῖν πρόκειται τίνʼ οὐσίαν ἔχει καὶ πῶς ὑφίστασθαι πέφυκε· καὶ πότερον οἰκείῳ λόγῳ κεκόσμηται τὸ δεδεγμένον μόριον αὐτὴν τῆς ψυχῆς ἢ μετέσχηκεν ἀλλοτρίου· καὶ εἰ μετέσχηκε, πότερον ὡς τὰ μεμιγμένα πρὸς τὸ βέλτιον ἢ μᾶλλον ὡς ἐπιστασίᾳ τινὶ χρώμενον καὶ ἀρχῇ μετέχειν λέγεται τῆς τοῦ ἄρχοντος δυνάμεως. ὅτι μὲν γὰρ δυνατὸν καὶ ἀρετὴν γεγονέναι καὶ μένειν παντάπασιν· ἄυλον καὶ ἄκρατον, οἶμαι δῆλον εἶναι. βέλτιον δὲ βραχέως ἐπιδραμεῖν καὶ τὰ τῶν ἑτέρων, οὐχ ἱστορίας ἕνεκα μᾶλλον ἢ τοῦ σαφέστερα γενέσθαι τὰ οἰκεῖα καὶ βεβαιότερα, προεκτεθέντων ἐκείνων.

[¶1] 2. To begin then with Menedemus of Eretria, he took away both the number and the differences of virtue, by asserting it to be but one, although distinguished by several names; holding that, in the same manner as a mortal and a man are all one, so what we call temperance, fortitude, and justice are but one and the same thing. As for Ariston of Chios, he likewise made virtue to be but one in substance, and called it sanity, which, as it had respect to this or that, was to be variously multiplied and distinguished; just after the same manner as if any one should call our sight, when applied to any white object, by the name of white-look; when to one that is black, by the name of black-look; and so in other matters. For according to him, virtue, when it considers such things as we ought to do or not to do, is called prudence; when it moderates our desires, and prescribes the measure and season for our pleasures, temperance; and when it governs the commerce and mutual contracts of mankind, justice;—in the same manner, for instance, as a knife is one and the same knife still, notwithstanding sometimes it cuts one thing, sometimes another, and just as fire does operate upon different matter, and yet retain the very same nature. Unto which opinion it seems also as if Zeno the Citian did in some measure incline; he defining prudence, while it distributes to every man his own, to be justice; when it teaches what we are to choose and what to reject or avoid, temperance; and with respect to what is to be borne or suffered, fortitude. But it is to be observed, that they who take upon them the defence of Zeno’s notions do suppose him to mean science by what he calls prudence. But then Chrysippus, whilst he imagined from every distinct quality a several and peculiar virtue to be formed, before he was aware, raised (as Plato hath it) a whole swarm of virtues never before known or used among the philosophers. For as from brave he derived bravery; from mild, mildness; and from just, justice; so from pleasant he fetched pleasantness; from good, goodness; from grand, grandeur; and from honest, honesty; placing these and all kind of dexterous application of discourse, all kind of facetiousness of conversation, and all witty turns of expression in the number of virtues, thereby over-running philosophy, which requires nothing less, with a multitude of uncouth, absurd, and barbarous terms.

> Greek: 2. Μενέδημος μὲν ὁ ἐξ Ἐρετρίας ἀνῄρει τῶν ἀρετῶν καὶ τὸ πλῆθος καὶ τὰς διαφοράς, ὡς μιᾶς οὔσης καὶ χρωμένης πολλοῖς ὀνόμασι· τὸ γὰρ αὐτὸ σωφροσύνην καὶ ἀνδρείαν καὶ δικαιοσύνην λέγεσθαι, καθάπερ βροτὸν καὶ ἄνθρωπον. ἀρίστων δʼ ὁ Χῖος τῇ μὲν οὐσίᾳ μίαν καὶ αὐτὸς ἀρετὴν ἐποίει καὶ ὑγίειαν ὠνόμαζε· τῷ δὲ πρὸς τί πως διαφόρους καὶ πλείονας, ὡς εἴ τις ἐθέλοι τὴν ὅρασιν ἡμῶν λευκῶν μὲν ἀντιλαμβανομένην λευκοθέαν καλεῖν, μελάνων δὲ μελανθέαν ἤ τι τοιοῦτον ἕτερον. καὶ γὰρ ἡ ἀρετὴ ποιητέα μὲν ἐπισκοποῦσα καὶ μὴ ποιητέα κέκληται φρόνησις, ἐπιθυμίαν δὲ κοσμοῦσα καὶ τὸ μέτριον καὶ τὸ εὔκαιρον ἐν ἡδοναῖς ὁρίζουσα σωφροσύνη, κοινωνήμασι δὲ καὶ συμβολαίοις ὁμιλοῦσα τοῖς πρὸς ἑτέρους δικαιοσύνη· καθάπερ τὸ μαχαίριον ἓν μὲν ἐστιν ἄλλοτε δʼ ἄλλο διαιρεῖ, καὶ τὸ πῦρ ἐνεργεῖ περὶ ὕλας διαφόρους μιᾷ φύσει χρώμενον. ἔοικε δὲ καὶ Ζήνων εἰς τοῦτό πως ὑποφέρεσθαι ὁ Κιτιεύς, ὁριζόμενος τὴν φρόνησιν ἐν μὲν ἀπονεμητέοις δικαιοσύνην ἐν δʼ αἱρετέοις σωφροσύνην ἐν δʼ ὑπομενετέοις ἀνδρείαν· ἀπολογούμενοι δʼ ἀξιοῦσιν ἐν τούτοις τὴν ἐπιστήμην φρόνησιν ὑπὸ τοῦ Ζήνωνος ὠνομάσθαι. Χρύσιππος δὲ κατὰ τὸ ποιὸν ἀρετὴν ἰδίαν ποιότητι συνίστασθαι νομίζων, ἔλαθεν ἑαυτὸν κατὰ τὸν Πλάτωνα σμῆνος ἀρετῶν οὐ σύνηθες οὐδὲ γνώριμον ἐγείρας ὡς γὰρ παρὰ τὸν ἀνδρεῖον ἀνδρείαν καὶ παρὰ τὸν πρᾶον πραότητα καὶ δικαιοσύνην παρὰ τὸν δίκαιον, οὕτω παρὰ τὸν χαρίεντα χαριεντότητας καὶ παρὰ τὸν ἐσθλὸν ἐσθλότητας καὶ παρὰ τὸν μέγαν μεγαλότητας καὶ παρὰ τὸν καλὸν καλότητας, ἑτέρας τε τοιαύτας ἐπιδεξιότητας εὐαπαντησίας εὐτραπελίας ἀρετὰς τιθέμενος, πολλῶν καὶ ἀτόπων ὀνομάτων οὐδὲν δεομένην ἐμπέπληκε φιλοσοφίαν.

[¶2] 3. However, all these do commonly agree in this one thing, in supposing virtue to be a certain disposition and faculty of the governing and directive part of the soul, of which reason is the cause; or rather to be reason itself, when it consents to what it ought, and is firm and immutable. And they do likewise think, that that part of the soul which is the seat of the passions, and is called brutal or irrational, is not at all distinct by any physical difference from that which is rational; but that this part of the soul (which they call rational and directive), being wholly turned about and changed by its affections and by those several alterations which are wrought in it with respect either to habit or disposition, becometh either vice or virtue, without having any thing in itself that is really brutal or irrational, but is then called brutal or irrational, when by the over-ruling and prevailing violence of our appetites it is hurried on to something absurd and vicious, against the judgment of reason. For passion, according to them, is nothing else but depraved and intemperate reason, that through a perverse and vicious judgment is grown over-vehement and headstrong. Now, it seems to me, all these philosophers were perfect strangers to the clearness and truth of this point, that we every one of us are in reality twofold and compound. For, discerning only that composition in us which of the two is most evident, namely that of the soul and body, of the other they knew nothing at all. And yet that in the soul itself also there is a certain composition of two dissimilar and distinct natures, the brutal part whereof, as another body, is necessarily and physically compounded with and conjoined to reason, was, it should seem, no secret to Pythagoras himself,—as some have guessed from his having introduced the study of music amongst his scholars, for the more easy calming and assuaging the mind, as well knowing that it is not in every part of it obedient and subject to precepts and discipline, nor indeed by reason only to be recovered and retrieved from vice, but requires some other kind of persuasives to co-operate with it, to dispose it to such a temper and gentleness as that it may not be utterly intractable and obstinate to the precepts of philosophy. And Plato very strongly and plainly, without the least hesitation, maintained that the soul of the universe is neither simple, uniform, nor uncompounded; but that being mixed, as it were, and made up of that which is always the same and of that which is otherwise, in some places it is continually governed and carried about after a uniform manner in one and the same powerful and predominant order, and in other places is divided into motions and circles, one contrary to the other, unsettled and fortuitous,—whence are derived the beginnings and generation of differences in things. And so, in like manner, the soul of man, being a part or portion of that of the universe, and framed upon reasons and proportions answerable to it, cannot be simple and all of the same nature; but must have one part that is intelligent and rational, which naturally ought to have dominion over a man, and another which, being subject to passion, irrational, extravagant, and unbounded, stands in need of direction and restraint. And this last is again subdivided into two other parts; one whereof, being called corporeal, is called concupiscible, and the other, which sometimes takes part with this and sometimes with reason, and gives respectively to either of them strength and vigor, is called irascible. And that which chiefly discovers the difference between the one and the other is the frequent conflict of the intellect and reason with concupiscence and anger, it being the nature of things that are different amongst themselves to be oftentimes repugnant and disobedient to what is best of all. These principles at first Aristotle seems most to have relied upon, as plainly enough appears from what he has written. Though afterwards he confounded the irascible and concupiscible together, by joining the one to the other, as if anger were nothing but a thirst and desire of revenge. However, to the last he constantly maintained that the sensual and irrational was wholly distinct from the intellectual and rational part of the soul. Not that it is so absolutely devoid of reason as those faculties of the soul which are sensitive, nutritive, and vegetative, and are common to us with brute beasts and plants; for these are always deaf to the voice of reason and incapable of it, and may in some sort be said to derive themselves from flesh and blood, and to be inseparably attached to the body and devoted to the service thereof; but the other sensual part, subject to the sudden efforts of the passions and destitute of any reason of its own, is yet nevertheless naturally adapted to hear and obey the intellect and judgment, to have regard to it, and to submit itself to be regulated and ordered according the rules and precepts thereof, unless it happen to be utterly corrupted and vitiated by pleasure, which is deaf to all instruction, and by a luxurious way of living.

> Greek: 3. κοινῶς δʼ ἅπαντες οὗτοι τὴν ἀρετὴν τοῦ ἡγεμονικοῦ τῆς ψυχῆς διάθεσίν τινα καὶ δύναμιν γεγενημένην ὑπὸ λόγου, μᾶλλον δὲ λόγον οὖσαν αὐτὴν ὁμολογούμενον καὶ βέβαιον καὶ ἀμετάπτωτον ὑποτίθενται· καὶ νομίζουσιν οὐκ εἶναι τὸ παθητικὸν καὶ ἄλογον διαφορᾷ τινι καὶ φύσει ψυχῆς τοῦ λογικοῦ διακεκριμένον, ἀλλὰ ταὐτὸ τῆς ψυχῆς μέρος, ὃ δὴ καλοῦσι διάνοιαν καὶ ἡγεμονικόν, διʼ ὅλου τρεπόμενον καὶ μεταβάλλον ἔν τε τοῖς πάθεσι καὶ ταῖς καθʼ ἕξιν ἢ διάθεσιν μεταβολαῖς κακίαν τε γίνεσθαι καὶ ἀρετήν, καὶ μηδὲν ἔχειν ἄλογον ἐν ἑαυτῷ· λέγεσθαι δʼ ἄλογον, ὅταν τῷ πλεονάζοντι τῆς ὁρμῆς ἰσχυρῷ γενομένῳ καὶ κρατήσαντι πρός τι τῶν ἀτόπων παρὰ τὸν αἱροῦντα λόγον ἐκφέρηται· καὶ γὰρ τὸ πάθος εἶναι λόγον πονηρὸν καὶ ἀκόλαστον ἐκ φαύλης καὶ διημαρτημένης κρίσεως σφοδρότητα καὶ ῥώμην προσλαβούσης. ἔοικε δὲ λαθεῖν τούτους ἅπαντας, ᾗ διττὸς ἡμῶν ὡς ἀληθῶς ἕκαστός ἐστι καὶ σύνθετος· τὴν γὰρ ἑτέραν διπλόην οὐ κατεῖδον, ἀλλὰ τὴν ψυχῆς καὶ σώματος μῖξιν ἐμφανεστέραν οὖσαν· ὅτι δʼ αὐτῆς ἔστι τῆς ψυχῆς ἐν ἑαυτῇ σύνθετόν τι καὶ διφυὲς καὶ ἀνόμοιον, ὥσπερ ἑτέρου σώματος τοῦ ἀλόγου πρὸς τὸν λόγον ἀνάγκῃ τινὶ καὶ φύσει συμμιγέντος καὶ συναρμοσθέντος, εἰκὸς μέν ἐστι μηδὲ Πυθαγόραν ἀγνοῆσαι, τεκμαιρομένοις τῇ περὶ μουσικὴν σπουδῇ τοῦ ἀνδρός, ἣν ἐπηγάγετο τῇ ψυχῇ κηλὴσεως ἕνεκα καὶ παραμυθίας, ὡς οὐ πᾶν ἐχούσῃ διδασκαλίας καὶ μαθήματος ὑπήκοον οὐδὲ λόγῳ μεταβλητὸν ἐκ κακίας, ἀλλά τινος ἑτέρας πειθοῦς συνεργοῦ καὶ πλάσεως καὶ τιθασεύσεως δεόμενον, εἰ μὴ παντάπασι μέλλοι φιλοσοφίᾳ δυσμεταχείριστον εἶναι καὶ ἀπειθές. ἐμφανῶς μέντοι καὶ βεβαίως καὶ ἀναμφιδόξως Πλάτων συνεῖδεν, ὅτι τούτου γε τοῦ κόσμου τὸ ἔμψυχον οὐχ ἁπλοῦν οὐδʼ ἀσύνθετον οὐδὲ μονοειδές ἐστιν, ἀλλʼ ἐκ τῆς ταὐτοῦ καὶ τῆς τοῦ ἑτέρου μεμιγμένον δυνάμεως πῆ μὲν ἀεὶ κατὰ ταὐτὰ κοσμεῖται καὶ περιπολεῖ μιᾷ τάξει κράτος ἐχούσῃ χρώμενον, πῆ δʼ εἴς τε κινήσεις καὶ κύκλους σχιζόμενον ὑπεναντίους καὶ πλανητοὺς ἀρχὴν διαφορᾶς καὶ μεταβολῆς καὶ ἀνομοιότητος ἐνδίδωσι ταῖς περὶ γῆν φθοραῖς καὶ γενέσεσιν ἥ τʼ ἀνθρώπου ψυχὴ μέρος ἤ τι μίμημα τῆς τοῦ παντὸς οὖσα καὶ συνηρμοσμένη κατὰ λόγους καὶ ἀριθμοὺς ἐοικότας ἐκείνοις οὐχ ἁπλῆ τίς ἐστιν οὐδʼ ὁμοιοπαθής, ἀλλʼ ἕτερον μὲν ἔχει τὸ νοερὸν καὶ λογιστικόν, ᾧ κρατεῖν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου κατὰ φύσιν καὶ ἄρχειν προσῆκόν ἐστιν· ἕτερον δὲ τὸ παθητικὸν καὶ ἄλογον καὶ πολυπλανὲς καὶ ἄτακτον ἐξ ἑαυτοῦ δεόμενον. οὗ πάλιν διχῆ μεριζομένου, τὸ μὲν ἀεὶ σώματι βουλόμενον συνεῖναι καὶ σῶμα θεραπεύειν πεφυκὸς ἐπιθυμητικὸν κέκληται, τὸ δʼ ἔστι μὲν τούτῳ προστιθέμενον, ἔστι δʼ ᾗ τῷ λογισμῷ παρέχον ἰσχὺν ἐπὶ τοῦτο καὶ δύναμιν, θυμοειδές. ἀποδείκνυσι δὲ τὴν διαφορὰν μάλιστα τῇ τοῦ λογιζομένου καὶ φρονοῦντος ἀντιβάσει πρὸς τὸ ἐπιθυμοῦν καὶ θυμούμενον, ὡς τὸ ἕτερον εἶναι πολλάκις ἀπειθοῦν τε καὶ δυσμαχοῦν πρὸς τὸ βέλτιστον. ταύταις ἐχρήσατο ταῖς ἀρχαῖς ἐπὶ πλέον Ἀριστοτέλης, ὡς δῆλόν ἐστιν ἐξ ὧν ἔγραψεν ὕστερον δὲ τὸ μὲν θυμοειδὲς τῷ ἐπιθυμητικῷ προσένειμεν, ὡς ἐπιθυμίαν τινὰ τὸν θυμὸν ὄντα καὶ ὄρεξιν ἀντιλυπήσεως. τῷ μέντοι παθητικῷ καὶ ἀλόγῳ μέχρι παντὸς ὡς διαφέροντι τοῦ λογιστικοῦ χρώμενος διετέλεσεν, οὐχ ὅτι παντελῶς ἄλογόν ἐστιν ὥσπερ τὸ αἰσθητικὸν ἢ τὸ θρεπτικὸν καὶ φυτικὸν τῆς ψυχῆς μέρος· ἀλλὰ ταῦτα μὲν ὅλως ἀνήκοα λόγου καὶ κωφὰ τρόπον τινὰ τῆς σαρκὸς ἐκβεβλάστηκε καὶ περὶ τὸ σῶμα παντελῶς καταπέφυκε· τὸ δὲ παθητικὸν οἰκείου λόγου στέρεται καὶ ἄμοιρόν ἐστιν, ἄλλως δὲ τοῦ λογιζομένου καὶ φρονοῦντος εἰσακούειν καὶ τρέπεσθαι πρὸς ἐκεῖνο καὶ ὑπείκειν καὶ κατασχηματίζεσθαι πέφυκεν, ἐὰν μὴ τέλεον ᾗ διεφθαρμένον ὑφʼ ἡδονῆς ἀμαθοῦς καὶ ἀκολάστου διαίτης.

[¶3] 4. As for those who wonder how it should come to pass, that that which is irrational in itself should yet become obsequious to the dictates of right reason, they seem to me not to have duly considered the force and power of reason, how great and extensive it is, and how far it is able to carry and extend its authority and command, not so much by harsh and arbitrary methods, as by soft and gentle means, which persuade more and gain obedience sooner than all the severities and violences in the world. For even the spirits, the nerves, bones, and other parts of the body are destitute of reason; but yet no sooner do they feel the least motion of the will, reason shaking (as it were), though never so gently, the reins, but all of them observe their proper order, agree together, and pay a ready obedience. As, for instance, the feet, if the impulse of the mind be to run, immediately betake themselves to their office; or if the motion of the will be for the throwing or lifting up of any thing, the hands in a moment fall to their business. And this sympathy or consent of the brutal faculties to right reason, and the ready conformity of them thereto, Homer has most admirably expressed in these verses:
In tears dissolved she mourns her consort’s fate,
So great her sorrows, scarce her charms more great.
Her tears compassion in Ulysses move,
And fill his breast with pity and with love;
Yet artful he his passion secret keeps,
It rages in his heart; and there he inward weeps.
Like steel or ivory, his fixed eyeballs stand,
Placed by some statuary’s skilful hand;
And when a gentle tear would force its way,
He hides it falling, or commands its stay.
Under such perfect subjection to his reason and judgment had he even his spirits, his blood, and his tears. A most evident proof of this matter we have also from hence, that our natural desires and motions are as soon repressed and. quieted as we know we are either by reason or law forbidden to approach the fair ones we at the first view had so great a passion for; a thing which most commonly happens to those who are apt to fall in love at sight with beautiful women, without knowing or examining who they are; for no sooner do they afterwards find their error, by discovering the person with whose charms they were before captivated to be a sister or a daughter, but their flame is presently extinguished by the interposition of reason. And flesh and blood are immediately brought into order, and become obedient to the judgment. It often falls out likewise that, after we have eaten some kinds of meat or fish finely dressed, and by that means artificially disguised, with great pleasure and a very good stomach, at the first moment we understand they were either unclean, or unlawful and forbidden, our judgment being thereby shocked, we feel not only remorse and trouble in our mind, but the conceit reaches farther, and our whole frame is disordered by the nauseous qualms and vomitings thereby occasioned. I fear I should be thought on purpose to hunt after too far-fetched and youthful instances to insert in this discourse, if I should take notice of the lute, the harp, the pipe and flute, and such like musical instruments invented by art, and adapted to the raising or allaying of human passions; which, though they are void of life and sense, do yet most readily accommodate themselves to the judgment, to our passions and our manners, either indulging our melancholy, increasing our mirth, or feeding our wantonness, as we happen at that time to be disposed. And therefore it is reported of Zeno himself, that, going one day to the theatre to hear Amoebeus sing to the lute, he called to his scholars, Come, says he, let us go and learn what harmony and music the guts and sinews of beasts, nay even wood and bones are capable of, by the help of numbers, proportion, and order. But to let these things pass, I would gladly know of them, whether, when they see domestic animals (as dogs, horses, or birds) by use, feeding, and teaching brought to so high a degree of perfection as that they shall utter articulately some senseful words, and by their motions, gestures, and all their actions, shall approve themselves governable, and become useful to us; and when also they find Achilles in Homer encouraging horses, as well as men, to battle;—whether, I say, after all this, they can yet make any wonder or doubt, whether those faculties of the mind to which we owe our anger, our desires, our joys, and our sorrows, be of such a nature that they are capable of being obedient to reason, and so affected by it as to consent and become entirely subject to it; considering especially that these faculties are not seated without us, or separated from us, or formed by any thing which is not in us, or hammered out by force and violence, but, as they have by nature their entire dependence upon the soul, so they are ever conversant and bred up with it, and also receive their final complement and perfection from use, custom, and practice. For this reason the Greeks very properly call manners ἦθος, custom; for they are nothing else, in short, but certain qualities of the irrational and brutal part of the mind, and hence by them are so named, in that this brutal and irrational part of the mind being formed and moulded by right reason, by long custom and use (which they call ἔθος), has these qualities or differences stamped upon it. Not that reason so much as attempts to eradicate our passions and affections, which is neither possible nor expedient, but only to keep them within due bounds, reduce them into good order, and so direct them to a good end; and thus to generate moral virtue, consisting not in a kind of insensibility, or total freedom from passions, but in the well-ordering our passions and keeping them within measure, which she effects by wisdom and prudence, bringing the faculties of that part of the soul where our affections and appetite are seated to a good habit. For these three things are commonly held to be in the soul, namely, a faculty or aptitude, passion, and habit. This aptitude or faculty then is the principle or very matter of passions; as for example, the power or aptitude to be angry, to be ashamed, to be confident and bold, or the like; passion is the actual exercise of that aptitude or faculty, as anger, shame, confidence, or boldness; and habit is the strength, firmness, and establishment of the disposition or faculty in the irrational part of the soul, gotten by continual use and custom, and which, according as the passions are well or ill governed by reason, becomes either virtue or vice.

> Greek: 4. οἱ δὲ θαυμάζοντες ὅπως ἄλογον μέν ἐστι λόγῳ δʼ ὑπήκοον, οὔ μοι δοκοῦσι τοῦ λόγου περινοεῖν τὴν δύναμιν ὅση πέφυκε κἀφʼ ὅσον διέρχεται τῷ κρατεῖν καὶ ἄγειν οὐ σκληραῖς οὐδʼ ἀντιτύποις ἀγωγαῖς ἀλλὰ τυπικαῖς καὶ τὸ ἐνδόσιμον καὶ πειθήνιον ἁπάσης ἀνάγκης καὶ βίας ἐχούσαις ἀνυσιμώτερον. ἐπεὶ καὶ πνεῦμα δήπου καὶ νεῦρα καὶ ὀστᾶ καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ μέρη τοῦ σώματος ἄλογʼ ἐστίν, ἀλλʼ ὅταν ὁρμὴ γένηται, σείσαντος ὥσπερ ἡνίας τοῦ λογισμοῦ, πάντα τέταται καὶ συνῆκται καὶ ὑπακούει· καὶ πόδες τε θεῖν διανοηθέντος εὔτονοι καὶ χεῖρες εἰς ἔργον καθίστανται βαλεῖν ἢ λαβεῖν ὁρμήσαντος ἄριστα δʼ ὁ ποιητὴς τὸ συμπαθοῦν καὶ συγκατασχηματιζόμενον τῷ λόγῳ τοῦ ἀλόγου παρίστησι διὰ τούτων
ὣς τῆς τήκετο καλὰ παρήια δάκρυ χεούσης,
κλαιούσης ἑὸν ἄνδρα παρήμενον· αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεὺς
θυμῷ μὲν γοόωσαν ἑὴν ἐλέαιρε γυναῖκα,
ὀφθαλμοὶ δʼ ὡς εἰ κέρα ἕστασαν ἠὲ σίδηρος
ἀτρέμας ἐν βλεφάροισι, δόλῳ δʼ ὅ γε δάκρυα ἔκευθεν.
οὕτως κατήκοον εἶχε τῆς κρίσεως καὶ τὸ πνεῦμα καὶ τὸ αἷμα καὶ τὸ δάκρυον. δηλοῦσι δὲ καὶ παρὰ καλαῖς καὶ καλοῖς, ὧν οὐκ ἐᾷ λόγος οὐδὲ νόμος θιγεῖν, αἰδοίων φυγαὶ καὶ ἀναχωρήσεις ἡσυχίαν ἀγόντων καὶ ἀτρεμούντων. ὃ μάλιστα συμβαίνει τοῖς ἐρῶσιν, εἶτʼ ἀκούσασιν ὡς ἀδελφῆς ἐρῶντες ἢ θυγατρὸς ἠγνοήκασιν ἅμα γὰρ ἔπτηξε τὸ ἐπιθυμοῦν ἁψαμένου τοῦ λόγου καὶ τὸ σῶμα τὰ μέρη συνευσχημονοῦντα τῇ κρίσει παρέσχε. σιτίοις γε μὴν πολλάκις καὶ ὄψοις μάλʼ ἡδέως προσενεχθέντες ἂν αἴσθωνται καὶ μάθωσιν αὑτοὺς τῶν μὴ καθαρῶν τι μηδὲ νομίμων ἐδηδοκότας, οὐ τῇ κρίσει μόνον ἐπιτίθεται τὸ λυποῦν καὶ δάκνον, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὸ σῶμα τῇ δόξῃ συνδιατρεπόμενον καὶ ἀναπιμπλάμενον ἔμετοι καὶ ἀνατροπαὶ ναυτιώδεις ἴσχουσι. δέδοικα δὲ μὴ δόξαιμι παντάπασιν ἐπαγωγὰ καὶ νεαρὰ τῷ λόγῳ περαίνειν, ψαλτήρια διεξιὼν καὶ λύρας καὶ πηκτίδας καὶ αὐλοὺς, καὶ ὅσα μουσικῆς προσῳδὰ καὶ προσήγορα μηχανησαμένης ἀνθρωπίνοις πάθεσιν ἄψυχα συνήδεται καὶ συνεπιθρηνεῖ καὶ συνᾴδει καὶ συνακολασταίνει, τὰς κρίσεις ἀναφέροντα καὶ τὰ πάθη καὶ τὰ ἔθη τῶν χρωμένων. καίτοι καὶ Ζήνωνά φασιν εἰς θέατρον ἀνιόντα κιθαρῳδοῦντος Ἀμοιβέως πρὸς τοὺς μαθητὰς ἴωμεν εἰπεῖν ὅπως καταμάθωμεν οἵαν ἔντερα καὶ νεῦρα καὶ ξύλα καὶ ὀστᾶ λόγου καὶ ἀριθμοῦ μετασχόντα καὶ τάξεως ἐμμέλειαν καὶ φωνὴν ἀφίησιν ἀλλὰ ταῦτʼ ἐάσας, ἡδέως ἂν αὐτῶν πυθοίμην, εἰ κύνας καὶ ἵππους καὶ ὄρνιθας οἰκουροὺς ὁρῶντες ἔθει καὶ τροφῇ καὶ διδασκαλίᾳ φωνὰς τε συνετὰς καὶ πρὸς λόγον ὑπηκόους κινήσεις καὶ σχέσεις ἀποδιδόντας καὶ πράξεις τὸ μέτριον καὶ τὸ χρήσιμον ἡμῖν ἐχούσας, Ὁμήρου τʼ ἀκούοντες τὸν Ἀχιλλέα λέγοντος ὀτρύνειν ἵππους τε καὶ ἀνέρας ἐπὶ τὴν μάχην, ἔτι θαυμάζουσι καὶ διαποροῦσιν εἰ τὸ θυμούμενον ἐν ἡμῖν καὶ ἐπιθυμοῦν καὶ λυπούμενον καὶ ἡδόμενον ὑπακούειν τε τῷ φρονοῦντι καὶ πάσχειν ὑπʼ αὐτοῦ καὶ συνδιατίθεσθαι πέφυκεν, οὐκ ἀποικοῦν οὐδʼ, ἀπεσχοινισμένον οὐδὲ πλασσόμενον ἔξωθεν οὐδὲ τυπούμενον ἀνάγκαις τισὶν ἢ πληγαῖς, ἀλλὰ φύσει μὲν ἐξηρτημένον ἀεὶ δʼ ὁμιλοῦν καὶ συντρεφόμενον καὶ ἀναπιμπλάμενον ὑπὸ συνηθείας διὸ καὶ καλῶς ὠνόμασται τὸ ἦθος· ἔστι μὲν γάρ, ὡς τύπῳ εἰπεῖν; ποιότης τοῦ ἀλόγου τὸ ἦθος· ὠνόμασται δʼ ὅτι τὴν ποιότητα ταύτην καὶ τὴν διαφορὰν ἔθει λαμβάνει τὸ ἄλογον ὑπὸ τοῦ λόγου πλαττόμενον, οὐ βουλομένου τὸ πάθος ἐξαιρεῖν παντάπασιν ʽ οὔτε γὰρ δυνατὸν οὔτʼ ἄμεινον̓, ἀλλʼ ὅρον τινὰ καὶ τάξιν ἐπιτιθέντος αὐτῷ καὶ τὰς ἠθικὰς, ἀρετάς, οὐκ ἀπαθείας οὔσας ἀλλὰ συμμετρίας παθῶν καὶ μεσότητας, ἐμποιοῦντος· ἐμποιεῖ δὲ τῇ φρονήσει τὴν τοῦ παθητικοῦ δύναμιν εἰς ἕξιν ἀστείαν καθιστάς. τρία γὰρ δὴ ταῦτά φασι περὶ τὴν ψυχὴν ὑπάρχειν, δύναμιν πάθος ἕξιν. ἡ μὲν οὖν δύναμις ἀρχὴ καὶ ὕλη τοῦ πάθους, οἷον ὀργιλότης αἰσχυντηλία θαρραλεότης· τὸ δὲ πάθος κίνησίς τις ἤδη τῆς δυνάμεως, οἷον ὀργὴ αἰδὼς θάρσος ἡ δʼ ἕξις ἰσχὺς καὶ κατασκευὴ τῆς περὶ τὸ ἄλογον δυνάμεως ἐξ ἔθους ἐγγιγνομένη, κακία μὲν ἂν φαύλως δʼ ἂν καλῶς ὑπὸ τοῦ λόγου παιδαγωγηθῇ τὸ πάθος.

[¶4] 5. But, forasmuch as philosophers do not make all virtue to consist in a mediocrity nor call it moral, to show the difference more clearly, it will be necessary to take our rise a little farther off. For of all things then in the universe, some do exist absolutely, simply, and for themselves only; others again relatively, for and with regard to us. Among those things which have an absolute and simple existence are the earth, the heavens, the stars, and the sea; and of such things as have their being relatively, with respect to us, are good and evil, things desirable and to be avoided, and things pleasant and hurtful. And seeing that both are the proper objects of reason,—while it considers the former, which are absolutely and for themselves, it is scientifical and contemplative; and when the other, which have reference to us, it is deliberative and practical. And as the proper virtue in the latter case is prudence, in the former it is science. And between the one and the other, namely, between prudence and science, there is this difference. Prudence consists in a certain application and relation of the contemplative faculties of the soul to those which are practical, for the government of the sensual and irrational part, according to reason. To which purpose prudence has often need of Fortune; whereas neither of that nor of deliberation has science any occasion or want to attain its ends, forasmuch as it has nothing to consider but such things as remain always the same. For as a geometrician never deliberates about a triangle, whether all its three angles be equal to two right angles, because of that he has a clear and distinct knowledge (and men use to deliberate about such things only as are sometimes in one state or condition and sometimes in another, and not of those which are always firm and immutable), so the mind, when merely contemplative, exercising itself about first principles and things permanent, such as retaining the same nature are incapable of mutation, has no room or occasion for deliberation. Whereas prudence, descending to actions full of error and confusion, is very often under the necessity of encountering with fortuitous accidents, and, in doubtful cases, of making use of deliberation, and, to reduce those deliberations into practice, of calling also to its assistance even the irrational faculties, which are (as it were) forcibly dragged to go along with it, and by that means to give a certain vigor or impetus to its determinations. For its determinations do indeed want something which may enliven and give them such an impetus. And moral virtue it is which gives an impetus or vigor to the passions; but at the same time reason, which accompanies that impetus, and of which it stands in great need, does so set bounds thereunto, that nothing but what is moderate appears, and that it neither outruns the proper seasons of action, nor yet falls short of them. For the sensual faculties, where passions are seated, are subject to motions, some over-vehement, sudden, and quick, and others again too remiss, and more slow and heavy than is convenient. So that, though every thing we do can be good but in one manner, yet it may be evil in several; as there is but one single way of hitting the mark, but to miss it a great many, either by shooting over, or under, or on one side. The business therefore of practical reason, governing our actions according to the order of Nature, is to correct the excesses as well as the defects of the passions, by reducing them to a true mediocrity. For as, when through infirmity of the mind, effeminacy, fear, or laziness, the vehemence and keenness of the appetites are so abated that they are ready to sink and fall short of the good at which they are aimed and directed, there is then this practical reason at hand, exciting and rousing and pushing them onward; so, on the other hand, when it lashes out too far and is hurried beyond all measure, there also is the same reason ready to bring it again within compass and put a stop to its career. And thus, prescribing bounds and giving law to the motions of the passions, it produces in the irrational part of the soul these moral virtues (of which we now treat), which are nothing else but the mean between excess and defect. For it cannot be said that all virtue consists in mediocrity; since wisdom or prudence (one of the intellectual virtues), standing in no need of the irrational faculties,—as being seated in that part of the soul which is pure and unmixed and free from all passions,—is of itself absolutely perfect, the utmost extremity and power of reason, whereby we attain to that perfection of knowledge which is itself most divine and renders us most happy. Whereas moral virtue, which because of the body is so necessary to us, and, to put things in practice, stands in need of the instrumental ministry of the passions (as being so far from promoting the destruction and abolition of irrational powers, as to be altogether employed in the due regulation thereof), is, with respect to its power or quality, the very top and extremity of perfection; but, in respect of the proportion and quantity which it determines, it is mediocrity, in that it takes away all excess on the one hand, and cures all defects on the other.

> Greek: 5. ἐπεὶ δʼ οὐ πᾶσαν ἀρετὴν μεσότητα ποιοῦσιν οὐδʼ ἠθικὴν καλοῦσι, λεκτέον ἂν εἴη περὶ τῆς διαφορᾶς ἀρξαμένοις ἄνωθεν. ἔστι τοίνυν τῶν πραγμάτων τὰ μὲν ἁπλῶς ἔχοντα τὰ δὲ πῶς ἔχοντα πρὸς ἡμᾶς· ἁπλῶς μὲν οὖν ἔχοντα, γῆ οὐρανὸς ἄστρα θάλασσα· πῶς δʼ ἔχοντα πρὸς ἡμᾶς, ἀγαθὸν κακόν, αἱρετὸν φευκτόν, ἡδὺ ἀλγεινόν· ἀμφοῖν δὲ τοῦ λόγου θεωρητικοῦ ὄντος, τὸ μὲν περὶ τὰ ἁπλῶς ἔχοντα μόνον ἐπιστημονικὸν καὶ θεωρητικόν ἐστι· τὸ δʼ ἐν τοῖς πῶς ἔχουσι πρὸς ἡμᾶς βουλευτικὸν καὶ πρακτικόν· ἀρετὴ δὲ τούτου μὲν ἡ φρόνησις ἐκείνου δʼ ἡ σοφία. διαφέρει δὲ σοφίας φρόνησις, ᾗ τοῦ θεωρητικοῦ πρὸς τὸ πρακτικὸν καὶ παθητικὸν ὑποστροφῆς καὶ σχέσεώς τινος γενομένης ὑφίσταται κατὰ· λόγον ἡ φρόνησις. διὸ φρόνησις μὲν τύχης δεῖται, σοφία δʼ οὐ δεῖται πρὸς τὸ οἰκεῖον τέλος οὐδὲ βουλῆς· ἔστι γὰρ περὶ τὰ ἀεὶ κατὰ ταὐτὰ καὶ ὡσαύτως ἔχοντα. καὶ καθάπερ ὁ γεωμέτρης οὐ βουλεύεται περὶ τοῦ τριγώνου, εἰ δυεῖν ὀρθαῖς ἴσας ἔχει τὰς ἐντὸς γωνίας ἀλλʼ οἶδεν ʽ αἱ γὰρ βουλαὶ περὶ τῶν ἄλλοτʼ ἄλλως ἐχόντων οὐ περὶ τῶν βεβαίων καὶ ἀμεταπτώτων’ οὕτως ὁ θεωρητικὸς νοῦς περὶ τὰ πρῶτα καὶ μόνιμα καὶ μίαν ἀεὶ φύσιν ἔχοντα μὴ δεχομένην μεταβολὰς ἐνεργῶν ἀπήλλακται τοῦ βουλεύεσθαι· τὴν δὲ φρόνησιν εἰς πράγματα πλάνης μεστὰ καὶ ταραχῆς καθιεῖσαν ἐπιμίγνυσθαι τοῖς τυχηροῖς πολλάκις ἀναγκαῖόν ἐστι καὶ τῷ βουλευτικῷ χρῆσθαι περὶ τῶν ἀδηλοτέρων, τῷ δὲ πρακτικῷ τὸ βουλευτικὸν ἐκδεχομένην ἐνεργεῖν ἤδη καὶ τοῦ ἀλόγου συμπαρόντος καὶ συνεφελκομένου ταῖς κρίσεσιν. ὁρμῆς γὰρ δέονται· τὴν δʼ ὁρμὴν τῷ πάθει ποιεῖ τὸ ἦθος, λόγου δεομένην ὁρίζοντος, ὅπως μετρία παρῇ καὶ μήθʼ ὑπερβάλλῃ μήτʼ ἐγκαταλείπῃ τὸν καιρόν. τὸ γὰρ δὴ παθητικὸν καὶ ἄλογον κινήσεσι χρῆται ταῖς μὲν ἄγαν σφοδραῖς καὶ ὀξείαις ταῖς δὲ μαλακωτέραις ἢ προσήκει καὶ ἀργοτέραις. ὅθεν ἕκαστον ὧν πράττομεν ἀεὶ μοναχῶς μὲν κατορθοῦται πλεοναχῶς δʼ ἁμαρτάνεται· τὸ γὰρ βαλεῖν τὸν σκοπὸν ἕν ἐστι καὶ ἁπλοῦν, ἀστοχοῦσι δʼ ἄλλοτʼ ἄλλως, ὑπερβάλλοντες τὸ μέτριον ἢ προαπολείποντες. τοῦτʼ οὖν τοῦ πρακτικοῦ λόγου κατὰ φύσιν ἔργον ἐστί, τὸ ἐξαιρεῖν τὰς ἀμετρίας τῶν παθῶν καὶ πλημμελείας. ὅπου μὲν γὰρ ὑπʼ ἀρρωστίας καὶ μαλακίας ἢ δέους καὶ ὄκνου προενδίδωσιν ἡ ὁρμὴ καὶ προαπολείπει τὸ καλόν, ἐνταῦθα πάρεστιν ἐξεγείρων καὶ ἀναρριπίζων, ὅπου δὲ πάλιν ἐκφέρεται ῥυεῖσα πολλὴ καὶ ἄτακτος, ἐκεῖ τὸ σφοδρὸν ἀφαιρεῖ καὶ ἵστησιν. οὕτως δʼ ὁρίζων τὴν παθητικὴν κίνησιν ἐμποιεῖ τὰς ἠθικὰς ἀρετὰς περὶ τὸ ἄλογον, ἐλλείψεως καὶ ὑπερβολῆς μεσότητας οὔσας. οὐ γὰρ ἅπασαν ἀρετὴν μεσότητι γίνεσθαι ῥητέον· ἀλλʼ ἡ μὲν ἀπροσδεὴς τοῦ ἀλόγου καὶ περὶ τὸν εἰλικρινῆ καὶ ἀπαθῆ νοῦν συνισταμένη σοφία καὶ φρόνησις αὐτοτελής τίς ἐστιν ἀκρότης τοῦ λόγου καὶ δύναμις, ᾗ τὸ θειότατον ἐγγίνεται τῆς ἐπιστήμης καὶ μακαριώτατον, ἡ δʼ ἀναγκαία διὰ τὸ σῶμα καὶ δεομένη νὴ Δία τῆς παθητικῆς ὥσπερ ὀργανικῆς ὑπηρεσίας ἐπὶ τὸ πρακτικόν, οὐκ οὖσα φθορὰ τοῦ ἀλόγου τῆς ψυχῆς οὐδʼ ἀναίρεσις ἀλλὰ τάξις καὶ διακόσμησις, ἀκρότης μέν ἐστι τῇ δυνάμει καὶ τῇ ποιότητι, τῷ ποσῷ δὲ μεσότης γίνεται τὸ ὑπερβάλλον ἐξαιροῦσα καὶ τὸ ἐλλεῖπον.

[¶5] 6. Now mean and mediocrity may be differently understood. For there is one mean which is compounded and made up of the two simple extremes, as in colors, gray, of white and black; and another, where that which contains and is contained is the medium between the containing and the contained, as, for instance, the number eight, between twelve and four. And a third sort there is also, which participates of neither extreme, as for example, all those things which, as being neither good nor evil in themselves, we call adiaphorous, or indifferent. But in none of these ways can virtue be said to be a mean, or mediocrity. For neither is it a mixture of vices, nor, comprehending that which is defective and short, is it comprehended by that which runs out into excess; nor yet is it exempt from the impetuosity and sudden efforts of the passions, in which excess and defect do properly take place. But moral virtue properly doth consist in a mean or mediocrity (and so it is commonly taken), most like to that which there is in our Greek music and harmony. For, whereas there are the highest and lowest musical notes in the extremities of the scale called nete and hypate; so likewise is there in the middle thereof, between these two, another musical note, and that the sweetest of all, called mese (or mean), which does as perfectly avoid the extreme sharpness of the one as it doth the over-flatness of the other. And so also virtue, being a motion and power which is exercised about the brutal and irrational part of the soul, takes away the remission and intention—in a word, the excess and defect—of the appetites, reducing thereby every one of the passions to a due mediocrity and perfect state of rectitude. For example, fortitude is said to be the mean between cowardice and rashness, whereof the one is a defect, as the other is an excess of the irascible faculty; liberality, between sordid parsimony on the one hand, and extravagant prodigality on the other; clemency between insensibility of injuries and its opposite, revengeful cruelty; and so of justice and temperance; the former being the mean between giving and distributing more or less than is due in all contracts, affairs, and business between man and man, and the latter a just mediocrity between a stupid apathy, touched with no sense or relish of pleasure, and dissolute softness, abandoned to all manner of sensualities. And from this instance of temperance it is, that we are most clearly given to understand the difference between the irrational and the rational faculties of the soul, and that it so plainly appears to us that the passions and affections of the mind are quite a distinct thing from reason. For otherwise never should we be able to distinguish continence from temperance, nor incontinence from intemperance, in lust and pleasures, if it were one and the same faculty of the soul wherewith we reason and judge, and whereby we desire and covet. Now temperance is that whereby reason governs and manages that part of the soul which is subject to the passions (as it were some wild creature brought up by hand, and made quite tame and gentle), having gained an absolute victory over all its appetites, and brought them entirely under the dominion of it. Whereas we call it continence, when reason has indeed gained the mastery over the appetites and prevailed against them, though not without great pains and trouble, they being perverse and continuing to struggle, as not having wholly submitted themselves; so that it is not without great difficulty able to preserve its government over them, being forced to retain and hold them in, and keep them within compass, as it were, with stripes, with the bit and bridle, while the mind all the time is full of nothing but agony, contentions, and confusion. All which Plato endeavors to illustrate by a similitude of the chariot-horses of the soul, the one whereof, being more unruly, not only kicks and flings at him that is more gentle and tractable, but also thereby so troubles and disorders the driver himself, that he is forced sometimes to hold him hard in, and sometimes again to give him his head, “Lest from his hands the purple reins should slip,” as Simonides speaks. And from hence we may see why continence is not thought worthy to be placed in the number of perfect virtues, but is taken to be a degree under virtue. For there is not therein produced a mediocrity arising from a symphony of the worst with the better, nor are the excesses of the passions retrenched; nor yet doth the appetite become obedient and subservient to the reasonable faculties, but it both makes and feels disorder and disturbance, being repressed by violence and constraint, and (as it were) by necessity; as in a sedition or faction in a city or state, the contending parties, breathing nothing but war and destruction and ruin to one another, do yet cohabit together (it may be) within the compass of the same walls; insomuch that the soul of the incontinent person, with respect to the conflicts and incongruities therein, may very properly be compared to the city,
Where all the streets are filled with incense smoke,
And songs of triumph mixed with groans resound.
And upon the same grounds it is, that incontinence is held to be something less than vice also, but intemperance to be a complete and perfect vice, for therein not the appetite only but reason likewise is debauched and corrupted; and as the former incites and pushes forward the desires and affections to that which is evil, so this, by making an ill judgment, is easily led to consent and agree to the soft whispers and tempting allurements of corrupt lusts and passions, and soon loseth all sense of sin and evil. Whereas incontinence preserves the judgment, by the help of reason, right and sound; but yet, by irresistible force and violence of the passions, is even against judgment drawn away. Moreover, in these respects following it differeth also from intemperance:—inasmuch as reason in that is overpowered by passion, but in this it never so much as struggleth; the incontinent person, after a noble resistance, is at last forced to submit to the tyranny of his lusts, and follow their guidance, while the intemperate approves them, and gladly goes along with and submits to them; one feels remorse for the evil he commits, while the other prides in lewdness and vice. Again, the one wilfully and of his own accord runs into sin; while the other, even against his will, is forced to abandon that which is good. And this difference between them is not to be collected only from their actions, but may as plainly also be discovered by their words. For at this rate do intemperate persons use to talk:
What mirth in life, what pleasure, what delight,
Without content in sports of Venus bright?
Were those joys past, and I for them unmeet,
Ring out my knell, bring forth my winding-sheet.
And thus says another:
To eat, to drink, to wench are principal,
All pleasures else I accessories call;
as if from his very soul he were wholly abandoned and given up to pleasures and voluptuousness, and even over whelmed therein. And much of the same mind was he, and his judgment was as totally depraved by his passions, who said,
Let me, ye dull and formal fops, alone,
I am resolved,’tis best to be undone.
But quite another spirit do we find running through the sayings of the incontinent:
Blame Nature only for it, blame not me,
Would she permit, I then should virtuous be,
says one of them. And again,
Ah!’tis decreed by Fate. We know,’tis true,
We know those virtues, which we ne’er pursue.
And another,
What will my swelling passions’ force assuage?
No more can I sustain this tempest’s rage,
Than anchor’s fluke, dropt on loose ground, a storm;
where not improperly he compares the fluke of an anchor dropped in loose ground to that ill-grounded, feeble, and irresolute reason, which by the vanity, weakness, and luxury of the mind is easily brought to forsake the judgment. And the like metaphor has the poet made use of happily enough in these verses:
To us, in ships moored near the shore who lie,
Though strong the cables, when the winds rise high
Cables will prove but small security;
where by the cables the poet means the judgment opposing itself against all that is evil or dishonest, which is, however, oftentimes disturbed and broken by violent and sudden gusts of the passions. For, indeed, the intemperate are borne away directly and with full sail to their pleasures; to them they deliver up themselves entirely, and thither it is they bend their whole course. While the incontinent, indirectly only, as endeavoring to sustain and repel the assaults of the passions and withstand their temptations, either is allured and as it were slides into evil, or else is plunged violently into it whether he will or no. As Timon, in his bitter way of raillery, reproaches Anaxarchus,
When first the dogged Anaxarchus strove
The power of virtue o’er his mind to prove,
Firm though he seemed, and obstinately good,
In vain th’ impulse of temper he withstood.
Nature recoiled, whatever he could do;
He saw those ills, which yet he did pursue;
In this not single, other sophists too
Felt the same force, which they could ne’er subdue.
And neither is a wise man continent, but temperate; nor a fool incontinent, but intemperate; the one taking true pleasure and delight in good, the other having no displeasure against evil. And therefore incontinence is said to be found only in a mind which is sophistical (or which barely makes a show of being governed and directed by prudence), and which has indeed the use of reason, but in so weak and faint a manner, that it is not able to persevere in that which it knows to be right.

> Greek: 6. ἐπεὶ δὲ πολλαχῶς τὸ μέσον ʽ καὶ γὰρ τὸ κεκραμένον τῶν ἀκράτων μέσον, ὡς λευκοῦ καὶ μέλανος τὸ φαιόν· καὶ τὸ περιέχον καὶ περιεχόμενον τοῦ περιεχομένου καὶ περιέχοντος, ὡς τῶν δώδεκα καὶ τεττάρων τὰ ὀκτώ· καὶ τὸ μηδετέρου τῶν ἄκρων μετέχον, ὡς ἀγαθοῦ καὶ κακοῦ τὸ ἀδιάφορον̓, τούτων μὲν οὐδενὶ τῶν τρόπων ἡ ἀρετὴ προσρητέα μεσότης. οὔτε γὰρ μῖγμα τῶν κακιῶν ἐστιν οὔτʼ ἐμπεριέχουσα τοὔλαττον ἐμπεριέχεται τῷ πλεονάζοντι τοῦ προσήκοντος· οὔτʼ ἀπήλλακται παντάπασι τῶν παθητικῶν ὁρμῶν, ἐν αἷς τὸ μᾶλλον καὶ τὸ ἧττον ἐστι. γίγνεται δὲ μεσότης καὶ λέγεται μάλιστα τῇ περὶ φθόγγους καὶ ἁρμονίας ὁμοίως· ἐκείνη τε γὰρ ἐμμελὴς οὖσα φωνὴ καθάπερ ἡ νήτη καὶ ὑπάτη, τῆς μὲν τὴν ὀξύτητα τῆς δὲ τὴν βαρύτητα τὴν ἄγαν διαπέφευγεν· αὕτη τε κίνησις οὖσα καὶ δύναμις περὶ τὸ ἄλογον, τὰς ἐκλύσεις καὶ τὰς ἐπιτάσεις καὶ ὅλως τὸ μᾶλλον καὶ τὸ ἧττον ἐξαιρεῖ τῆς ὁρμῆς, εἰς τὸ μέτριον καὶ ἀναμάρτητον καθιστᾶσα τῶν παθῶν ἕκαστον. αὐτίκα τὴν μὲν ἀνδρείαν μεσότητά φασιν εἶναι δειλίας καὶ θρασύτητος, ὧν ἡ μὲν ἔλλειψις ἡ δʼ ὑπερβολὴ τοῦ θυμοειδοῦς ἐστι· τὴν δʼ ἐλευθεριότητα μικρολογίας καὶ ἀσωτίας, πραότητα δʼ ἀναλγησίας καὶ ὠμότητος· αὐτήν τε σωφροσύνην καὶ δικαιοσύνην, τὴν μὲν περὶ τὰ συμβόλαια μήτε πλέον νέμουσαν αὑτῇ τοῦ προσήκοντος μήτʼ ἔλαττον, τὴν δʼ εἰς τὸ μέσον ἀπαθείας καὶ ἀναισθησίας καὶ ἀκολασίας ἀεὶ τὰς ἐπιθυμίας καθιστᾶσαν. ἐν ᾧ δὴ καὶ μάλιστα δοκεῖ τὸ ἄλογον τῆς πρὸς τὸ λογικὸν διαφορᾶς αὑτοῦ παρέχειν κατανόησιν, καὶ δεικνύειν τὸ πάθος ὡς ἕτερόν τι κομιδῇ τοῦ λόγου ἐστίν. οὐ γὰρ ἂν διέφερε σωφροσύνης ἐγκράτεια, καὶ ἀκολασίας ἀκρασία περὶ τὰς ἡδονὰς καὶ τὰς ἐπιθυμίας, εἰ ταὐτὸν ἦν τῆς ψυχῆς ᾧ ἐπιθυμεῖν ᾧ τε κρίνειν πέφυκε. νῦν δὲ σωφροσύνη μέν ἐστιν, οὗ τὸ παθητικὸν ὥσπερ εὐήνιον θρέμμα καὶ πρᾶον ὁ λογισμὸς ἡνιοχεῖ καὶ μεταχειρίζεται, περὶ τὰς ἐπιθυμίας χρώμενος ὑπείκοντι καὶ δεχομένῳ τὸ μέτριον καὶ τὸ εὔσχημον ἑκουσίως· ὁ δʼ ἐγκρατὴς ἄγει μὲν ἐρρωμένῳ τῷ λογισμῷ καὶ κρατοῦντι τὴν ἐπιθυμίαν, ἄγει δʼ οὐκ ἀλύπως οὐδὲ πειθομένην ἀλλὰ πλαγίαν καὶ ἀντιτείνουσαν, οἷον ὑπὸ πληγῆς καὶ χαλινοῦ καταβιαζόμενος καὶ ἀνακρούων, ἀγῶνος ὢν ἐν ἑαυτῷ καὶ θορύβου μεστός· οἷον ὁ Πλάτων ἐξεικονίζει περὶ τὰ τῆς ψυχῆς; ὑποζύγια, τοῦ χείρονος πρὸς τὸ βέλτιον ζυγομαχοῦντος ἅμα καὶ τὸν ἡνίοχον διαταράττοντος, ἀντέχειν ὀπίσω καὶ κατατείνειν ὑπὸ σπουδῆς ἀναγκαζόμενον ἀεὶ μὴ βάλῃ φοίνικας ἐκ χειρῶν ἱμάντας κατὰ Σιμωνίδην. ὅθεν οὐδʼ ἀρετὴν αὐτοτελῆ ἀξιοῦσι τὴν ἐγκράτειαν ἀλλʼ ἔλαττον ἀρετῆς εἶναι· μεσότης γὰρ οὐ γέγονεν ἐκ συμφωνίας τοῦ χείρονος πρὸς τὸ βέλτιον οὐδʼ ἀνῄρηται τοῦ πάθους τὸ ὑπερβάλλον, οὐδὲ πειθόμενον οὐδʼ ὁμολογοῦν τῷ φρονοῦντι τῆς ψυχῆς τὸ ἐπιθυμοῦν ἀλλὰ λυποῦν καὶ λυπούμενον καὶ καθειργόμενον ὑπʼ ἀνάγκης ὥσπερ ἐν στάσει δυσμενὲς καὶ πολέμιον συνοικεῖ·
πόλις δʼ ὁμοῦ μὲν θυμιαμάτων γέμει,
ὁμοῦ δὲ παιάνων τε καὶ στεναγμάτων
ἡ τοῦ ἐγκρατοῦς ψυχὴ διὰ τὴν ἀνωμαλίαν καὶ τὴν διαφοράν. κατὰ ταὐτὰ δʼ οἴονται καὶ τὴν ἀκρασίαν ἔλαττόν τι κακίας εἶναι παντελῆ δὲ κακίαν τὴν ἀκολασίαν. αὕτη μὲν γὰρ ἔχουσα καὶ πάθος φαῦλον καὶ λόγον, ὑφʼ οὗ μὲν ἐξάγεται τῷ ἐπιθυμεῖν πρὸς τὸ αἰσχρόν, ὑφʼ οὗ δὲ τῷ κακῶς κρίνειν προστιθεμένου ταῖς ἐπιθυμίαις καὶ τὴν αἴσθησιν ἀποβάλλει τῶν ἁμαρτανομένων. ἡ δʼ ἀκρασία τῷ μὲν λόγῳ σῴζει τὴν κρίσιν ὀρθὴν οὖσαν, τῷ δὲ πάθει φέρεται παρὰ τὴν κρίσιν ἰσχύοντι τοῦ λόγου μᾶλλον. ὅθεν διαφέρει τῆς ἀκολασίας· ὅπου μὲν γὰρ ἡττᾶται τοῦ πάθους ὁ λογισμὸς ὅπου δʼ οὐδὲ μάχεται, καὶ ὅπου μὲν ἀντιλέγων ἕπεται ταῖς· ἐπιθυμίαις ὅπου δʼ ὑφηγεῖται συναγορεύων, καὶ ὅπου μὲν ἡδομένῳ κοινωνεῖν ὑπάρχει τῶν ἁμαρτανομένων ὅπου δʼ ἀχθομένῳ, καὶ ὅπου μὲν ἑκὼν φέρεται πρὸς τὸ αἰσχρὸν ὅπου δὲ προδίδωσιν ἄκων τὸ καλόν· ὡς τοῖς πραττομένοις ὑπʼ αὐτῶν, οὐχ ἧττον δὲ καὶ τοῖς λεγομένοις ἔνεστιν ἡ διαφορὰ κατάδηλος· ἀκολάστων μὲν γὰρ αἵδε φωναὶ
ʼτίς δὲ χάρις, τί δὲ τερπνὸν ἄτερ χρυσῆς Ἀφροδίτης;
τεθναίην, ὅτε μοι μηκέτι ταῦτα μέλοι.
καὶ ἕτερος
ʼτὸ φαγεῖν τὸ πιεῖν τὸ τῆς Ἀφροδίτης τυγχάνειν,
τὰ δʼ ἄλλα προσθήκας ἅπαντʼ ἐγὼ καλῶ
φησίν, ὥσπερ ἐξ ὅλης τῆς ψυχῆς συνεπινεύων ταῖς ἡδοναῖς καὶ ὑπερειπόμενος. οὐχ ἧττον δὲ τούτων ὁ εἰπών ἔα μʼ ἀπολέσθαι· τοῦτο γάρ μοι συμφέρει τὴν κρίσιν ἔχει τῷ πάθει συννοσοῦσαν. αἱ δὲ τῆς ἀκρασίας ἕτεραι καὶ διαφέρουσαι γνώμην ἔχοντὰ μʼ ἡ φύσις βιάζεται· καί
αἰαῖ, τόδʼ ἤδη θεῖον ἀνθρώποις κακόν,
ὅταν τις εἰδῇ τἀγαθὸν χρῆται δὲ μή·
καὶ
εἴκει γὰρ ἤδη θυμὸς οὐδʼ ἔτʼ ἀντέχει,
θινῶδες ὡς ἄγκιστρον ἀγκύρας σάλῳ
θινῶδες ἄγκιστρον οὐ φαύλως λέγων τὸ μὴ κάτοχον τοῦ λογισμοῦ μηδʼ ἀραρός, ἀλλὰ μανότητι τῆς ψυχῆς καὶ μαλακίᾳ προϊέμενον τὴν κρίσιν. οὐ πόρρω δὲ τῆς εἰκόνος ταύτης κἀκεῖνα εἴρηται
ναῦς ὥς τις ἐκ μὲν γῆς ἀνήρτημαι βρόχοις,
πνεῖ δʼ οὖρος, ἡμῖν δʼ οὐ κρατεῖ τὰ πείσματα
πείσματα γὰρ λέγει τὰς ἀντεχούσας κρίσεις πρὸς τὸ αἰσχρόν, εἶθʼ ὥσπερ ὑπὸ πνεύματος πολλοῦ ῥηγνυμένας τοῦ πάθους. τῷ γὰρ ὄντι πλησίστιος μὲν ἐπὶ τὰς ἡδονὰς ὁ ἀκόλαστος ὑπὸ τῶν ἐπιθυμιῶν φέρεται καὶ δίδωσιν ἑαυτὸν καὶ συγκατευθύνει· πλάγιος δʼ ὁ ἀκρατής, οἷον ἐξαναφέρειν γλιχόμενος καὶ διωθεῖσθαι τὸ πάθος, ὑποσύρεται καὶ περιπίπτει περὶ τὸ αἰσχρὸν ὡς Ἀνάξαρχον ἐσίλλαινε Τίμων
ἐν δὲ τὸ θαρσαλέον τε καὶ ἐμμανὲς ὅππη ὀρούσαι
φαίνετʼ Ἀναξάρχου κύνεον μένος ὃς ῥα καὶ εἰδώς,
ὡς φάσαν, ἄθλιος ἔσκε, φύσις δέ μιν ἔμπαλιν ἦγεν
ἡδονοπλήξ, ἣν πλεῖστοι ὑποτρείουσι σοφιστῶν.
οὔτε γὰρ ὁ σοφὸς ἐγκρατὴς ἀλλὰ σώφρων, οὔθʼ ὁ ἀμαθὴς ἀκρατὴς ἀλλʼ ἀκόλαστος ὁ μὲν γὰρ ἥδεται τοῖς καλοῖς ὁ δʼ οὐκ ἄχθεται τοῖς αἰσχροῖς. σοφιστικῆς οὖν ψυχῆς ἡ ἀκρασία, λόγον ἐχούσης οἷς ἔγνωκεν ὀρθῶς ἐμμένειν μὴ δυνάμενον.

[¶6] 7. Thus we have seen the diversity between incontinence and intemperance. And as for continence and temperance, their differences are analogous, and bear proportion to those of the other, but in contrary respects. For remorse, grief, and indignation do always accompany continence; whereas in the mind of a temperate person there is all over such an evenness, calmness, and firmness, that, seeing with what wonderful easiness and tranquillity the irrational faculties go along with reason and submit to its directions, one cannot but call to mind that of the poet:
Swift the command ran through the raging deep;
Th’ obedient waves compose themselves to sleep;
reason having quite deadened and repressed the vehement raging and furious motions of the passions and affections. But those whose assistance Nature necessarily requires are by reason rendered so agreeable and consenting, so submissive, friendly, and co-operative in the execution of all good designs and purposes, that they neither outrun it, nor recede from it, nor behave themselves disorderly, nor ever show the least disobedience; but every appetite willingly and cheerfully pursues its dictates, “As sucking foal runs by his mother mare.” Which very much confirms what was said by Xenocrates of those who are true philosophers, namely, that they alone do that voluntarily which all others do against their wills for fear of the laws; being diverted and restrained from the pursuit of their pleasures, as a dog is frightened by a whipping or a cat scared by a noise, having regard to nothing else in the matter but their own danger.

> Greek: 7. ἡ μὲν οὖν ἀκρασία τοιαύτας ἔχει διαφορὰς πρὸς τὴν ἀκολασίαν, ἡ δʼ ἐγκράτεια πρὸς τὴν σωφροσύνην αὖθις αὖ τὰς ἀντιστρόφους; ἀναλόγως. τὸ γὰρ δάκνον καὶ τὸ λυποῦν καὶ τὸ ἀγανακτοῦν οὔπω τὴν ἐγκράτειαν ἀπολέλοιπε· τῆς δὲ σώφρονος ψυχῆς τὸ πανταχόθεν ὁμαλὲς καὶ ἄσφυκτον καὶ ὑγιαῖνον ᾧ συνήρμοσται καὶ συγκέκραται τὸ ἄλογον πρὸς τὸν λογισμὸν εὐπειθείᾳ καὶ πραότητι θαυμαστῇ κεκοσμημένον, εἴποις ἂν ἐπιβλέψας
δὴ τότʼ ἔπειτʼ ἄνεμος μὲν ἐπαύσατο, ἡ δὲ γαλήνη
ἔπλετο νηνεμίη, κοίμισσε δὲ κύματα δαίμων·
τὰ σφοδρὰ καὶ περιμανῆ καὶ οἰστρώδη κινήματα τῶν ἐπιθυμιῶν τοῦ λόγου κατασβέσαντος, ὧν δʼ ἡ φύσις ἀναγκαίως δεῖται, ταῦθʼ ὁμοιοπαθῆ καὶ ὑπήκοα καὶ φίλα καὶ συνεργὰ πεποιημένου ταῖς πρακτικαῖς προαιρέσεσιν ὥστε μὴ προεκθεῖν τοῦ λογισμοῦ μηδʼ ὑπενδιδόναι μηδʼ ἀτακτεῖν μηδʼ ἀπειθεῖν, ἀλλὰ πᾶσαν ὁρμὴν εὐάγωγον οὖσαν ἄθηλον ἵππῳ πῶλον ὣς ἅμα τρέχειν ἐπιβεβαιοῦσαν τὸν Ξενοκράτους λόγον, ὃν ἐκεῖνος εἶπε περὶ τῶν ἀληθῶς φιλοσοφούντων, ὅτι μόνοι ποιοῦσιν ἑκουσίως ἃ ποιοῦσιν ἄκοντες οἱ λοιποὶ διὰ τὸν νόμον, ὥσπερ ὑπὸ πληγῆς κύνες ἢ γαλαῖ ψόφῳ τῶν ἡδονῶν ἀποτρεπόμενοι καὶ πρὸς τὸ δεινὸν ἀποβλέποντες.