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Rhetoric
By Aristotle

Translated by W. Rhys Roberts

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11

BOOK I

Part 1

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Rhetoric is the counterpart of Dialectic. Both alike are concerned
with such things as come, more or less, within the general ken of
all men and belong to no definite science. Accordingly all men make
use, more or less, of both; for to a certain extent all men attempt
to discuss statements and to maintain them, to defend themselves and
to attack others. Ordinary people do this either at random or through
practice and from acquired habit. Both ways being possible, the subject
can plainly be handled systematically, for it is possible to inquire
the reason why some speakers succeed through practice and others spontaneously;
and every one will at once agree that such an inquiry is the function
of an art.

Now, the framers of the current treatises on rhetoric have constructed
but a small portion of that art. The modes of persuasion are the only
true constituents of the art: everything else is merely accessory.
These writers, however, say nothing about enthymemes, which are the
substance of rhetorical persuasion, but deal mainly with non-essentials.
The arousing of prejudice, pity, anger, and similar emotions has nothing
to do with the essential facts, but is merely a personal appeal to
the man who is judging the case. Consequently if the rules for trials
which are now laid down some states-especially in well-governed states-were
applied everywhere, such people would have nothing to say. All men,
no doubt, think that the laws should prescribe such rules, but some,
as in the court of Areopagus, give practical effect to their thoughts
and forbid talk about non-essentials. This is sound law and custom.
It is not right to pervert the judge by moving him to anger or envy
or pity-one might as well warp a carpenter's rule before using it.
Again, a litigant has clearly nothing to do but to show that the alleged
fact is so or is not so, that it has or has not happened. As to whether
a thing is important or unimportant, just or unjust, the judge must
surely refuse to take his instructions from the litigants: he must
decide for himself all such points as the law-giver has not already
defined for him.

Now, it is of great moment that well-drawn laws should themselves
define all the points they possibly can and leave as few as may be
to the decision of the judges; and this for several reasons. First,
to find one man, or a few men, who are sensible persons and capable
of legislating and administering justice is easier than to find a
large number. Next, laws are made after long consideration, whereas
decisions in the courts are given at short notice, which makes it
hard for those who try the case to satisfy the claims of justice and
expediency. The weightiest reason of all is that the decision of the
lawgiver is not particular but prospective and general, whereas members
of the assembly and the jury find it their duty to decide on definite
cases brought before them. They will often have allowed themselves
to be so much influenced by feelings of friendship or hatred or self-interest
that they lose any clear vision of the truth and have their judgement
obscured by considerations of personal pleasure or pain. In general,
then, the judge should, we say, be allowed to decide as few things
as possible. But questions as to whether something has happened or
has not happened, will be or will not be, is or is not, must of necessity
be left to the judge, since the lawgiver cannot foresee them. If this
is so, it is evident that any one who lays down rules about other
matters, such as what must be the contents of the 'introduction' or
the 'narration' or any of the other divisions of a speech, is theorizing
about non-essentials as if they belonged to the art. The only question
with which these writers here deal is how to put the judge into a
given frame of mind. About the orator's proper modes of persuasion
they have nothing to tell us; nothing, that is, about how to gain
skill in enthymemes.

Hence it comes that, although the same systematic principles apply
to political as to forensic oratory, and although the former is a
nobler business, and fitter for a citizen, than that which concerns
the relations of private individuals, these authors say nothing about
political oratory, but try, one and all, to write treatises on the
way to plead in court. The reason for this is that in political oratory
there is less inducement to talk about nonessentials. Political oratory
is less given to unscrupulous practices than forensic, because it
treats of wider issues. In a political debate the man who is forming
a judgement is making a decision about his own vital interests. There
is no need, therefore, to prove anything except that the facts are
what the supporter of a measure maintains they are. In forensic oratory
this is not enough; to conciliate the listener is what pays here.
It is other people's affairs that are to be decided, so that the judges,
intent on their own satisfaction and listening with partiality, surrender
themselves to the disputants instead of judging between them. Hence
in many places, as we have said already, irrelevant speaking is forbidden
in the law-courts: in the public assembly those who have to form a
judgement are themselves well able to guard against that.

It is clear, then, that rhetorical study, in its strict sense, is
concerned with the modes of persuasion. Persuasion is clearly a sort
of demonstration, since we are most fully persuaded when we consider
a thing to have been demonstrated. The orator's demonstration is an
enthymeme, and this is, in general, the most effective of the modes
of persuasion. The enthymeme is a sort of syllogism, and the consideration
of syllogisms of all kinds, without distinction, is the business of
dialectic, either of dialectic as a whole or of one of its branches.
It follows plainly, therefore, that he who is best able to see how
and from what elements a syllogism is produced will also be best skilled
in the enthymeme, when he has further learnt what its subject-matter
is and in what respects it differs from the syllogism of strict logic.
The true and the approximately true are apprehended by the same faculty;
it may also be noted that men have a sufficient natural instinct for
what is true, and usually do arrive at the truth. Hence the man who
makes a good guess at truth is likely to make a good guess at probabilities.

It has now been shown that the ordinary writers on rhetoric treat
of non-essentials; it has also been shown why they have inclined more
towards the forensic branch of oratory.

Rhetoric is useful (1) because things that are true and things that
are just have a natural tendency to prevail over their opposites,
so that if the decisions of judges are not what they ought to be,
the defeat must be due to the speakers themselves, and they must be
blamed accordingly. Moreover, (2) before some audiences not even the
possession of the exactest knowledge will make it easy for what we
say to produce conviction. For argument based on knowledge implies
instruction, and there are people whom one cannot instruct. Here,
then, we must use, as our modes of persuasion and argument, notions
possessed by everybody, as we observed in the Topics when dealing
with the way to handle a popular audience. Further, (3) we must be
able to employ persuasion, just as strict reasoning can be employed,
on opposite sides of a question, not in order that we may in practice
employ it in both ways (for we must not make people believe what is
wrong), but in order that we may see clearly what the facts are, and
that, if another man argues unfairly, we on our part may be able to
confute him. No other of the arts draws opposite conclusions: dialectic
and rhetoric alone do this. Both these arts draw opposite conclusions
impartially. Nevertheless, the underlying facts do not lend themselves
equally well to the contrary views. No; things that are true and things
that are better are, by their nature, practically always easier to
prove and easier to believe in. Again, (4) it is absurd to hold that
a man ought to be ashamed of being unable to defend himself with his
limbs, but not of being unable to defend himself with speech and reason,
when the use of rational speech is more distinctive of a human being
than the use of his limbs. And if it be objected that one who uses
such power of speech unjustly might do great harm, that is a charge
which may be made in common against all good things except virtue,
and above all against the things that are most useful, as strength,
health, wealth, generalship. A man can confer the greatest of benefits
by a right use of these, and inflict the greatest of injuries by using
them wrongly.

It is clear, then, that rhetoric is not bound up with a single definite
class of subjects, but is as universal as dialectic; it is clear,
also, that it is useful. It is clear, further, that its function is
not simply to succeed in persuading, but rather to discover the means
of coming as near such success as the circumstances of each particular
case allow. In this it resembles all other arts. For example, it is
not the function of medicine simply to make a man quite healthy, but
to put him as far as may be on the road to health; it is possible
to give excellent treatment even to those who can never enjoy sound
health. Furthermore, it is plain that it is the function of one and
the same art to discern the real and the apparent means of persuasion,
just as it is the function of dialectic to discern the real and the
apparent syllogism. What makes a man a 'sophist' is not his faculty,
but his moral purpose. In rhetoric, however, the term 'rhetorician'
may describe either the speaker's knowledge of the art, or his moral
purpose. In dialectic it is different: a man is a 'sophist' because
he has a certain kind of moral purpose, a 'dialectician' in respect,
not of his moral purpose, but of his faculty.

Let us now try to give some account of the systematic principles of
Rhetoric itself-of the right method and means of succeeding in the
object we set before us. We must make as it were a fresh start, and
before going further define what rhetoric is.

Part 2

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Rhetoric may be defined as the faculty of observing in any given case
the available means of persuasion. This is not a function of any other
art. Every other art can instruct or persuade about its own particular
subject-matter; for instance, medicine about what is healthy and unhealthy,
geometry about the properties of magnitudes, arithmetic about numbers,
and the same is true of the other arts and sciences. But rhetoric
we look upon as the power of observing the means of persuasion on
almost any subject presented to us; and that is why we say that, in
its technical character, it is not concerned with any special or definite
class of subjects.

Of the modes of persuasion some belong strictly to the art of rhetoric
and some do not. By the latter I mean such things as are not supplied
by the speaker but are there at the outset-witnesses, evidence given
under torture, written contracts, and so on. By the former I mean
such as we can ourselves construct by means of the principles of rhetoric.
The one kind has merely to be used, the other has to be invented.

Of the modes of persuasion furnished by the spoken word there are
three kinds. The first kind depends on the personal character of the
speaker; the second on putting the audience into a certain frame of
mind; the third on the proof, or apparent proof, provided by the words
of the speech itself. Persuasion is achieved by the speaker's personal
character when the speech is so spoken as to make us think him credible.
We believe good men more fully and more readily than others: this
is true generally whatever the question is, and absolutely true where
exact certainty is impossible and opinions are divided. This kind
of persuasion, like the others, should be achieved by what the speaker
says, not by what people think of his character before he begins to
speak. It is not true, as some writers assume in their treatises on
rhetoric, that the personal goodness revealed by the speaker contributes
nothing to his power of persuasion; on the contrary, his character
may almost be called the most effective means of persuasion he possesses.
Secondly, persuasion may come through the hearers, when the speech
stirs their emotions. Our judgements when we are pleased and friendly
are not the same as when we are pained and hostile. It is towards
producing these effects, as we maintain, that present-day writers
on rhetoric direct the whole of their efforts. This subject shall
be treated in detail when we come to speak of the emotions. Thirdly,
persuasion is effected through the speech itself when we have proved
a truth or an apparent truth by means of the persuasive arguments
suitable to the case in question.

There are, then, these three means of effecting persuasion. The man
who is to be in command of them must, it is clear, be able (1) to
reason logically, (2) to understand human character and goodness in
their various forms, and (3) to understand the emotions-that is, to
name them and describe them, to know their causes and the way in which
they are excited. It thus appears that rhetoric is an offshoot of
dialectic and also of ethical studies. Ethical studies may fairly
be called political; and for this reason rhetoric masquerades as political
science, and the professors of it as political experts-sometimes from
want of education, sometimes from ostentation, sometimes owing to
other human failings. As a matter of fact, it is a branch of dialectic
and similar to it, as we said at the outset. Neither rhetoric nor
dialectic is the scientific study of any one separate subject: both
are faculties for providing arguments. This is perhaps a sufficient
account of their scope and of how they are related to each other.

With regard to the persuasion achieved by proof or apparent proof:
just as in dialectic there is induction on the one hand and syllogism
or apparent syllogism on the other, so it is in rhetoric. The example
is an induction, the enthymeme is a syllogism, and the apparent enthymeme
is an apparent syllogism. I call the enthymeme a rhetorical syllogism,
and the example a rhetorical induction. Every one who effects persuasion
through proof does in fact use either enthymemes or examples: there
is no other way. And since every one who proves anything at all is
bound to use either syllogisms or inductions (and this is clear to
us from the Analytics), it must follow that enthymemes are syllogisms
and examples are inductions. The difference between example and enthymeme
is made plain by the passages in the Topics where induction and syllogism
have already been discussed. When we base the proof of a proposition
on a number of similar cases, this is induction in dialectic, example
in rhetoric; when it is shown that, certain propositions being true,
a further and quite distinct proposition must also be true in consequence,
whether invariably or usually, this is called syllogism in dialectic,
enthymeme in rhetoric. It is plain also that each of these types of
oratory has its advantages. Types of oratory, I say: for what has
been said in the Methodics applies equally well here; in some oratorical
styles examples prevail, in others enthymemes; and in like manner,
some orators are better at the former and some at the latter. Speeches
that rely on examples are as persuasive as the other kind, but those
which rely on enthymemes excite the louder applause. The sources of
examples and enthymemes, and their proper uses, we will discuss later.
Our next step is to define the processes themselves more clearly.

A statement is persuasive and credible either because it is directly
self-evident or because it appears to be proved from other statements
that are so. In either case it is persuasive because there is somebody
whom it persuades. But none of the arts theorize about individual
cases. Medicine, for instance, does not theorize about what will help
to cure Socrates or Callias, but only about what will help to cure
any or all of a given class of patients: this alone is business: individual
cases are so infinitely various that no systematic knowledge of them
is possible. In the same way the theory of rhetoric is concerned not
with what seems probable to a given individual like Socrates or Hippias,
but with what seems probable to men of a given type; and this is true
of dialectic also. Dialectic does not construct its syllogisms out
of any haphazard materials, such as the fancies of crazy people, but
out of materials that call for discussion; and rhetoric, too, draws
upon the regular subjects of debate. The duty of rhetoric is to deal
with such matters as we deliberate upon without arts or systems to
guide us, in the hearing of persons who cannot take in at a glance
a complicated argument, or follow a long chain of reasoning. The subjects
of our deliberation are such as seem to present us with alternative
possibilities: about things that could not have been, and cannot now
or in the future be, other than they are, nobody who takes them to
be of this nature wastes his time in deliberation.

It is possible to form syllogisms and draw conclusions from the results
of previous syllogisms; or, on the other hand, from premisses which
have not been thus proved, and at the same time are so little accepted
that they call for proof. Reasonings of the former kind will necessarily
be hard to follow owing to their length, for we assume an audience
of untrained thinkers; those of the latter kind will fail to win assent,
because they are based on premisses that are not generally admitted
or believed.

The enthymeme and the example must, then, deal with what is in the
main contingent, the example being an induction, and the enthymeme
a syllogism, about such matters. The enthymeme must consist of few
propositions, fewer often than those which make up the normal syllogism.
For if any of these propositions is a familiar fact, there is no need
even to mention it; the hearer adds it himself. Thus, to show that
Dorieus has been victor in a contest for which the prize is a crown,
it is enough to say 'For he has been victor in the Olympic games',
without adding 'And in the Olympic games the prize is a crown', a
fact which everybody knows.

There are few facts of the 'necessary' type that can form the basis
of rhetorical syllogisms. Most of the things about which we make decisions,
and into which therefore we inquire, present us with alternative possibilities.
For it is about our actions that we deliberate and inquire, and all
our actions have a contingent character; hardly any of them are determined
by necessity. Again, conclusions that state what is merely usual or
possible must be drawn from premisses that do the same, just as 'necessary'
conclusions must be drawn from 'necessary' premisses; this too is
clear to us from the Analytics. It is evident, therefore, that the
propositions forming the basis of enthymemes, though some of them
may be 'necessary', will most of them be only usually true. Now the
materials of enthymemes are Probabilities and Signs, which we can
see must correspond respectively with the propositions that are generally
and those that are necessarily true. A Probability is a thing that
usually happens; not, however, as some definitions would suggest,
anything whatever that usually happens, but only if it belongs to
the class of the 'contingent' or 'variable'. It bears the same relation
to that in respect of which it is probable as the universal bears
to the particular. Of Signs, one kind bears the same relation to the
statement it supports as the particular bears to the universal, the
other the same as the universal bears to the particular. The infallible
kind is a 'complete proof' (tekmerhiou); the fallible kind has no
specific name. By infallible signs I mean those on which syllogisms
proper may be based: and this shows us why this kind of Sign is called
'complete proof': when people think that what they have said cannot
be refuted, they then think that they are bringing forward a 'complete
proof', meaning that the matter has now been demonstrated and completed
(peperhasmeuou); for the word 'perhas' has the same meaning (of 'end'
or 'boundary') as the word 'tekmarh' in the ancient tongue. Now the
one kind of Sign (that which bears to the proposition it supports
the relation of particular to universal) may be illustrated thus.
Suppose it were said, 'The fact that Socrates was wise and just is
a sign that the wise are just'. Here we certainly have a Sign; but
even though the proposition be true, the argument is refutable, since
it does not form a syllogism. Suppose, on the other hand, it were
said, 'The fact that he has a fever is a sign that he is ill', or,
'The fact that she is giving milk is a sign that she has lately borne
a child'. Here we have the infallible kind of Sign, the only kind
that constitutes a complete proof, since it is the only kind that,
if the particular statement is true, is irrefutable. The other kind
of Sign, that which bears to the proposition it supports the relation
of universal to particular, might be illustrated by saying, 'The fact
that he breathes fast is a sign that he has a fever'. This argument
also is refutable, even if the statement about the fast breathing
be true, since a man may breathe hard without having a fever.

It has, then, been stated above what is the nature of a Probability,
of a Sign, and of a complete proof, and what are the differences between
them. In the Analytics a more explicit description has been given
of these points; it is there shown why some of these reasonings can
be put into syllogisms and some cannot.

The 'example' has already been described as one kind of induction;
and the special nature of the subject-matter that distinguishes it
from the other kinds has also been stated above. Its relation to the
proposition it supports is not that of part to whole, nor whole to
part, nor whole to whole, but of part to part, or like to like. When
two statements are of the same order, but one is more familiar than
the other, the former is an 'example'. The argument may, for instance,
be that Dionysius, in asking as he does for a bodyguard, is scheming
to make himself a despot. For in the past Peisistratus kept asking
for a bodyguard in order to carry out such a scheme, and did make
himself a despot as soon as he got it; and so did Theagenes at Megara;
and in the same way all other instances known to the speaker are made
into examples, in order to show what is not yet known, that Dionysius
has the same purpose in making the same request: all these being instances
of the one general principle, that a man who asks for a bodyguard
is scheming to make himself a despot. We have now described the sources
of those means of persuasion which are popularly supposed to be demonstrative.

There is an important distinction between two sorts of enthymemes
that has been wholly overlooked by almost everybody-one that also
subsists between the syllogisms treated of in dialectic. One sort
of enthymeme really belongs to rhetoric, as one sort of syllogism
really belongs to dialectic; but the other sort really belongs to
other arts and faculties, whether to those we already exercise or
to those we have not yet acquired. Missing this distinction, people
fail to notice that the more correctly they handle their particular
subject the further they are getting away from pure rhetoric or dialectic.
This statement will be clearer if expressed more fully. I mean that
the proper subjects of dialectical and rhetorical syllogisms are the
things with which we say the regular or universal Lines of Argument
are concerned, that is to say those lines of argument that apply equally
to questions of right conduct, natural science, politics, and many
other things that have nothing to do with one another. Take, for instance,
the line of argument concerned with 'the more or less'. On this line
of argument it is equally easy to base a syllogism or enthymeme about
any of what nevertheless are essentially disconnected subjects-right
conduct, natural science, or anything else whatever. But there are
also those special Lines of Argument which are based on such propositions
as apply only to particular groups or classes of things. Thus there
are propositions about natural science on which it is impossible to
base any enthymeme or syllogism about ethics, and other propositions
about ethics on which nothing can be based about natural science.
The same principle applies throughout. The general Lines of Argument
have no special subject-matter, and therefore will not increase our
understanding of any particular class of things. On the other hand,
the better the selection one makes of propositions suitable for special
Lines of Argument, the nearer one comes, unconsciously, to setting
up a science that is distinct from dialectic and rhetoric. One may
succeed in stating the required principles, but one's science will
be no longer dialectic or rhetoric, but the science to which the principles
thus discovered belong. Most enthymemes are in fact based upon these
particular or special Lines of Argument; comparatively few on the
common or general kind. As in the therefore, so in this work, we must
distinguish, in dealing with enthymemes, the special and the general
Lines of Argument on which they are to be founded. By special Lines
of Argument I mean the propositions peculiar to each several class
of things, by general those common to all classes alike. We may begin
with the special Lines of Argument. But, first of all, let us classify
rhetoric into its varieties. Having distinguished these we may deal
with them one by one, and try to discover the elements of which each
is composed, and the propositions each must employ.

Part 3

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Rhetoric falls into three divisions, determined by the three classes
of listeners to speeches. For of the three elements in speech-making--speaker,
subject, and person addressed--it is the last one, the hearer, that
determines the speech's end and object. The hearer must be either
a judge, with a decision to make about things past or future, or an
observer. A member of the assembly decides about future events, a
juryman about past events: while those who merely decide on the orator's
skill are observers. From this it follows that there are three divisions
of oratory-(1) political, (2) forensic, and (3) the ceremonial oratory
of display.

Political speaking urges us either to do or not to do something: one
of these two courses is always taken by private counsellors, as well
as by men who address public assemblies. Forensic speaking either
attacks or defends somebody: one or other of these two things must
always be done by the parties in a case. The ceremonial oratory of
display either praises or censures somebody. These three kinds of
rhetoric refer to three different kinds of time. The political orator
is concerned with the future: it is about things to be done hereafter
that he advises, for or against. The party in a case at law is concerned
with the past; one man accuses the other, and the other defends himself,
with reference to things already done. The ceremonial orator is, properly
speaking, concerned with the present, since all men praise or blame
in view of the state of things existing at the time, though they often
find it useful also to recall the past and to make guesses at the
future.

Rhetoric has three distinct ends in view, one for each of its three
kinds. The political orator aims at establishing the expediency or
the harmfulness of a proposed course of action; if he urges its acceptance,
he does so on the ground that it will do good; if he urges its rejection,
he does so on the ground that it will do harm; and all other points,
such as whether the proposal is just or unjust, honourable or dishonourable,
he brings in as subsidiary and relative to this main consideration.
Parties in a law-case aim at establishing the justice or injustice
of some action, and they too bring in all other points as subsidiary
and relative to this one. Those who praise or attack a man aim at
proving him worthy of honour or the reverse, and they too treat all
other considerations with reference to this one.

That the three kinds of rhetoric do aim respectively at the three
ends we have mentioned is shown by the fact that speakers will sometimes
not try to establish anything else. Thus, the litigant will sometimes
not deny that a thing has happened or that he has done harm. But that
he is guilty of injustice he will never admit; otherwise there would
be no need of a trial. So too, political orators often make any concession
short of admitting that they are recommending their hearers to take
an inexpedient course or not to take an expedient one. The question
whether it is not unjust for a city to enslave its innocent neighbours
often does not trouble them at all. In like manner those who praise
or censure a man do not consider whether his acts have been expedient
or not, but often make it a ground of actual praise that he has neglected
his own interest to do what was honourable. Thus, they praise Achilles
because he championed his fallen friend Patroclus, though he knew
that this meant death, and that otherwise he need not die: yet while
to die thus was the nobler thing for him to do, the expedient thing
was to live on.

It is evident from what has been said that it is these three subjects,
more than any others, about which the orator must be able to have
propositions at his command. Now the propositions of Rhetoric are
Complete Proofs, Probabilities, and Signs. Every kind of syllogism
is composed of propositions, and the enthymeme is a particular kind
of syllogism composed of the aforesaid propositions.

Since only possible actions, and not impossible ones, can ever have
been done in the past or the present, and since things which have
not occurred, or will not occur, also cannot have been done or be
going to be done, it is necessary for the political, the forensic,
and the ceremonial speaker alike to be able to have at their command
propositions about the possible and the impossible, and about whether
a thing has or has not occurred, will or will not occur. Further,
all men, in giving praise or blame, in urging us to accept or reject
proposals for action, in accusing others or defending themselves,
attempt not only to prove the points mentioned but also to show that
the good or the harm, the honour or disgrace, the justice or injustice,
is great or small, either absolutely or relatively; and therefore
it is plain that we must also have at our command propositions about
greatness or smallness and the greater or the lesser-propositions
both universal and particular. Thus, we must be able to say which
is the greater or lesser good, the greater or lesser act of justice
or injustice; and so on.

Such, then, are the subjects regarding which we are inevitably bound
to master the propositions relevant to them. We must now discuss each
particular class of these subjects in turn, namely those dealt with
in political, in ceremonial, and lastly in legal, oratory.

Part 4

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First, then, we must ascertain what are the kinds of things, good
or bad, about which the political orator offers counsel. For he does
not deal with all things, but only with such as may or may not take
place. Concerning things which exist or will exist inevitably, or
which cannot possibly exist or take place, no counsel can be given.
Nor, again, can counsel be given about the whole class of things which
may or may not take place; for this class includes some good things
that occur naturally, and some that occur by accident; and about these
it is useless to offer counsel. Clearly counsel can only be given
on matters about which people deliberate; matters, namely, that ultimately
depend on ourselves, and which we have it in our power to set going.
For we turn a thing over in our mind until we have reached the point
of seeing whether we can do it or not.

Now to enumerate and classify accurately the usual subjects of public
business, and further to frame, as far as possible, true definitions
of them is a task which we must not attempt on the present occasion.
For it does not belong to the art of rhetoric, but to a more instructive
art and a more real branch of knowledge; and as it is, rhetoric has
been given a far wider subject-matter than strictly belongs to it.
The truth is, as indeed we have said already, that rhetoric is a combination
of the science of logic and of the ethical branch of politics; and
it is partly like dialectic, partly like sophistical reasoning. But
the more we try to make either dialectic rhetoric not, what they really
are, practical faculties, but sciences, the more we shall inadvertently
be destroying their true nature; for we shall be re-fashioning them
and shall be passing into the region of sciences dealing with definite
subjects rather than simply with words and forms of reasoning. Even
here, however, we will mention those points which it is of practical
importance to distinguish, their fuller treatment falling naturally
to political science.

The main matters on which all men deliberate and on which political
speakers make speeches are some five in number: ways and means, war
and peace, national defence, imports and exports, and legislation.

As to Ways and Means, then, the intending speaker will need to know
the number and extent of the country's sources of revenue, so that,
if any is being overlooked, it may be added, and, if any is defective,
it may be increased. Further, he should know all the expenditure of
the country, in order that, if any part of it is superfluous, it may
be abolished, or, if any is too large, it may be reduced. For men
become richer not only by increasing their existing wealth but also
by reducing their expenditure. A comprehensive view of these questions
cannot be gained solely from experience in home affairs; in order
to advise on such matters a man must be keenly interested in the methods
worked out in other lands.

As to Peace and War, he must know the extent of the military strength
of his country, both actual and potential, and also the mature of
that actual and potential strength; and further, what wars his country
has waged, and how it has waged them. He must know these facts not
only about his own country, but also about neighbouring countries;
and also about countries with which war is likely, in order that peace
may be maintained with those stronger than his own, and that his own
may have power to make war or not against those that are weaker. He
should know, too, whether the military power of another country is
like or unlike that of his own; for this is a matter that may affect
their relative strength. With the same end in view he must, besides,
have studied the wars of other countries as well as those of his own,
and the way they ended; similar causes are likely to have similar
results.

With regard to National Defence: he ought to know all about the methods
of defence in actual use, such as the strength and character of the
defensive force and the positions of the forts-this last means that
he must be well acquainted with the lie of the country-in order that
a garrison may be increased if it is too small or removed if it is
not wanted, and that the strategic points may be guarded with special
care.

With regard to the Food Supply: he must know what outlay will meet
the needs of his country; what kinds of food are produced at home
and what imported; and what articles must be exported or imported.
This last he must know in order that agreements and commercial treaties
may be made with the countries concerned. There are, indeed, two sorts
of state to which he must see that his countrymen give no cause for
offence, states stronger than his own, and states with which it is
advantageous to trade.

But while he must, for security's sake, be able to take all this into
account, he must before all things understand the subject of legislation;
for it is on a country's laws that its whole welfare depends. He must,
therefore, know how many different forms of constitution there are;
under what conditions each of these will prosper and by what internal
developments or external attacks each of them tends to be destroyed.
When I speak of destruction through internal developments I refer
to the fact that all constitutions, except the best one of all, are
destroyed both by not being pushed far enough and by being pushed
too far. Thus, democracy loses its vigour, and finally passes into
oligarchy, not only when it is not pushed far enough, but also when
it is pushed a great deal too far; just as the aquiline and the snub
nose not only turn into normal noses by not being aquiline or snub
enough, but also by being too violently aquiline or snub arrive at
a condition in which they no longer look like noses at all. It is
useful, in framing laws, not only to study the past history of one's
own country, in order to understand which constitution is desirable
for it now, but also to have a knowledge of the constitutions of other
nations, and so to learn for what kinds of nation the various kinds
of constitution are suited. From this we can see that books of travel
are useful aids to legislation, since from these we may learn the
laws and customs of different races. The political speaker will also
find the researches of historians useful. But all this is the business
of political science and not of rhetoric.

These, then, are the most important kinds of information which the
political speaker must possess. Let us now go back and state the premisses
from which he will have to argue in favour of adopting or rejecting
measures regarding these and other matters.

Part 5

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It may be said that every individual man and all men in common aim
at a certain end which determines what they choose and what they avoid.
This end, to sum it up briefly, is happiness and its constituents.
Let us, then, by way of illustration only, ascertain what is in general
the nature of happiness, and what are the elements of its constituent
parts. For all advice to do things or not to do them is concerned
with happiness and with the things that make for or against it; whatever
creates or increases happiness or some part of happiness, we ought
to do; whatever destroys or hampers happiness, or gives rise to its
opposite, we ought not to do.

We may define happiness as prosperity combined with virtue; or as
independence of life; or as the secure enjoyment of the maximum of
pleasure; or as a good condition of property and body, together with
the power of guarding one's property and body and making use of them.
That happiness is one or more of these things, pretty well everybody
agrees.

From this definition of happiness it follows that its constituent
parts are:-good birth, plenty of friends, good friends, wealth, good
children, plenty of children, a happy old age, also such bodily excellences
as health, beauty, strength, large stature, athletic powers, together
with fame, honour, good luck, and virtue. A man cannot fail to be
completely independent if he possesses these internal and these external
goods; for besides these there are no others to have. (Goods of the
soul and of the body are internal. Good birth, friends, money, and
honour are external.) Further, we think that he should possess resources
and luck, in order to make his life really secure. As we have already
ascertained what happiness in general is, so now let us try to ascertain
what of these parts of it is.

Now good birth in a race or a state means that its members are indigenous
or ancient: that its earliest leaders were distinguished men, and
that from them have sprung many who were distinguished for qualities
that we admire.

The good birth of an individual, which may come either from the male
or the female side, implies that both parents are free citizens, and
that, as in the case of the state, the founders of the line have been
notable for virtue or wealth or something else which is highly prized,
and that many distinguished persons belong to the family, men and
women, young and old.

The phrases 'possession of good children' and 'of many children' bear
a quite clear meaning. Applied to a community, they mean that its
young men are numerous and of good a quality: good in regard to bodily
excellences, such as stature, beauty, strength, athletic powers; and
also in regard to the excellences of the soul, which in a young man
are temperance and courage. Applied to an individual, they mean that
his own children are numerous and have the good qualities we have
described. Both male and female are here included; the excellences
of the latter are, in body, beauty and stature; in soul, self-command
and an industry that is not sordid. Communities as well as individuals
should lack none of these perfections, in their women as well as in
their men. Where, as among the Lacedaemonians, the state of women
is bad, almost half of human life is spoilt.

The constituents of wealth are: plenty of coined money and territory;
the ownership of numerous, large, and beautiful estates; also the
ownership of numerous and beautiful implements, live stock, and slaves.
All these kinds of property are our own, are secure, gentlemanly,
and useful. The useful kinds are those that are productive, the gentlemanly
kinds are those that provide enjoyment. By 'productive' I mean those
from which we get our income; by 'enjoyable', those from which we
get nothing worth mentioning except the use of them. The criterion
of 'security' is the ownership of property in such places and under
such Conditions that the use of it is in our power; and it is 'our
own' if it is in our own power to dispose of it or keep it. By 'disposing
of it' I mean giving it away or selling it. Wealth as a whole consists
in using things rather than in owning them; it is really the activity-that
is, the use-of property that constitutes wealth.

Fame means being respected by everybody, or having some quality that
is desired by all men, or by most, or by the good, or by the wise.

Honour is the token of a man's being famous for doing good. it is
chiefly and most properly paid to those who have already done good;
but also to the man who can do good in future. Doing good refers either
to the preservation of life and the means of life, or to wealth, or
to some other of the good things which it is hard to get either always
or at that particular place or time-for many gain honour for things
which seem small, but the place and the occasion account for it. The
constituents of honour are: sacrifices; commemoration, in verse or
prose; privileges; grants of land; front seats at civic celebrations;
state burial; statues; public maintenance; among foreigners, obeisances
and giving place; and such presents as are among various bodies of
men regarded as marks of honour. For a present is not only the bestowal
of a piece of property, but also a token of honour; which explains
why honour-loving as well as money-loving persons desire it. The present
brings to both what they want; it is a piece of property, which is
what the lovers of money desire; and it brings honour, which is what
the lovers of honour desire.

The excellence of the body is health; that is, a condition which allows
us, while keeping free from disease, to have the use of our bodies;
for many people are 'healthy' as we are told Herodicus was; and these
no one can congratulate on their 'health', for they have to abstain
from everything or nearly everything that men do.-Beauty varies with
the time of life. In a young man beauty is the possession of a body
fit to endure the exertion of running and of contests of strength;
which means that he is pleasant to look at; and therefore all-round
athletes are the most beautiful, being naturally adapted both for
contests of strength and for speed also. For a man in his prime, beauty
is fitness for the exertion of warfare, together with a pleasant but
at the same time formidable appearance. For an old man, it is to be
strong enough for such exertion as is necessary, and to be free from
all those deformities of old age which cause pain to others. Strength
is the power of moving some one else at will; to do this, you must
either pull, push, lift, pin, or grip him; thus you must be strong
in all of those ways or at least in some. Excellence in size is to
surpass ordinary people in height, thickness, and breadth by just
as much as will not make one's movements slower in consequence. Athletic
excellence of the body consists in size, strength, and swiftness;
swiftness implying strength. He who can fling forward his legs in
a certain way, and move them fast and far, is good at running; he
who can grip and hold down is good at wrestling; he who can drive
an adversary from his ground with the right blow is a good boxer:
he who can do both the last is a good pancratiast, while he who can
do all is an 'all-round' athlete.

Happiness in old age is the coming of old age slowly and painlessly;
for a man has not this happiness if he grows old either quickly, or
tardily but painfully. It arises both from the excellences of the
body and from good luck. If a man is not free from disease, or if
he is strong, he will not be free from suffering; nor can he continue
to live a long and painless life unless he has good luck. There is,
indeed, a capacity for long life that is quite independent of health
or strength; for many people live long who lack the excellences of
the body; but for our present purpose there is no use in going into
the details of this.

The terms 'possession of many friends' and 'possession of good friends'
need no explanation; for we define a 'friend' as one who will always
try, for your sake, to do what he takes to be good for you. The man
towards whom many feel thus has many friends; if these are worthy
men, he has good friends.

'Good luck' means the acquisition or possession of all or most, or
the most important, of those good things which are due to luck. Some
of the things that are due to luck may also be due to artificial contrivance;
but many are independent of art, as for example those which are due
to nature-though, to be sure, things due to luck may actually be contrary
to nature. Thus health may be due to artificial contrivance, but beauty
and stature are due to nature. All such good things as excite envy
are, as a class, the outcome of good luck. Luck is also the cause
of good things that happen contrary to reasonable expectation: as
when, for instance, all your brothers are ugly, but you are handsome
yourself; or when you find a treasure that everybody else has overlooked;
or when a missile hits the next man and misses you; or when you are
the only man not to go to a place you have gone to regularly, while
the others go there for the first time and are killed. All such things
are reckoned pieces of good luck.

As to virtue, it is most closely connected with the subject of Eulogy,
and therefore we will wait to define it until we come to discuss that
subject.

Part 6

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It is now plain what our aims, future or actual, should be in urging,
and what in depreciating, a proposal; the latter being the opposite
of the former. Now the political or deliberative orator's aim is utility:
deliberation seeks to determine not ends but the means to ends, i.e.
what it is most useful to do. Further, utility is a good thing. We
ought therefore to assure ourselves of the main facts about Goodness
and Utility in general.

We may define a good thing as that which ought to be chosen for its
own sake; or as that for the sake of which we choose something else;
or as that which is sought after by all things, or by all things that
have sensation or reason, or which will be sought after by any things
that acquire reason; or as that which must be prescribed for a given
individual by reason generally, or is prescribed for him by his individual
reason, this being his individual good; or as that whose presence
brings anything into a satisfactory and self-sufficing condition;
or as self-sufficiency; or as what produces, maintains, or entails
characteristics of this kind, while preventing and destroying their
opposites. One thing may entail another in either of two ways-(1)
simultaneously, (2) subsequently. Thus learning entails knowledge
subsequently, health entails life simultaneously. Things are productive
of other things in three senses: first as being healthy produces health;
secondly, as food produces health; and thirdly, as exercise does-i.e.
it does so usually. All this being settled, we now see that both the
acquisition of good things and the removal of bad things must be good;
the latter entails freedom from the evil things simultaneously, while
the former entails possession of the good things subsequently. The
acquisition of a greater in place of a lesser good, or of a lesser
in place of a greater evil, is also good, for in proportion as the
greater exceeds the lesser there is acquisition of good or removal
of evil. The virtues, too, must be something good; for it is by possessing
these that we are in a good condition, and they tend to produce good
works and good actions. They must be severally named and described
elsewhere. Pleasure, again, must be a good thing, since it is the
nature of all animals to aim at it. Consequently both pleasant and
beautiful things must be good things, since the former are productive
of pleasure, while of the beautiful things some are pleasant and some
desirable in and for themselves.

The following is a more detailed list of things that must be good.
Happiness, as being desirable in itself and sufficient by itself,
and as being that for whose sake we choose many other things. Also
justice, courage, temperance, magnanimity, magnificence, and all such
qualities, as being excellences of the soul. Further, health, beauty,
and the like, as being bodily excellences and productive of many other
good things: for instance, health is productive both of pleasure and
of life, and therefore is thought the greatest of goods, since these
two things which it causes, pleasure and life, are two of the things
most highly prized by ordinary people. Wealth, again: for it is the
excellence of possession, and also productive of many other good things.
Friends and friendship: for a friend is desirable in himself and also
productive of many other good things. So, too, honour and reputation,
as being pleasant, and productive of many other good things, and usually
accompanied by the presence of the good things that cause them to
be bestowed. The faculty of speech and action; since all such qualities
are productive of what is good. Further-good parts, strong memory,
receptiveness, quickness of intuition, and the like, for all such
faculties are productive of what is good. Similarly, all the sciences
and arts. And life: since, even if no other good were the result of
life, it is desirable in itself. And justice, as the cause of good
to the community.

The above are pretty well all the things admittedly good. In dealing
with things whose goodness is disputed, we may argue in the following
ways:-That is good of which the contrary is bad. That is good the
contrary of which is to the advantage of our enemies; for example,
if it is to the particular advantage of our enemies that we should
be cowards, clearly courage is of particular value to our countrymen.
And generally, the contrary of that which our enemies desire, or of
that at which they rejoice, is evidently valuable. Hence the passage
beginning:

"Surely would Priam exult. "

This principle usually holds good, but not always, since it may well
be that our interest is sometimes the same as that of our enemies.
Hence it is said that 'evils draw men together'; that is, when the
same thing is hurtful to them both.

Further: that which is not in excess is good, and that which is greater
than it should be is bad. That also is good on which much labour or
money has been spent; the mere fact of this makes it seem good, and
such a good is assumed to be an end-an end reached through a long
chain of means; and any end is a good. Hence the lines beginning:

"And for Priam (and Troy-town's folk) should

"they leave behind them a boast; "

and

"Oh, it were shame

"To have tarried so long and return empty-handed

"as erst we came; "

and there is also the proverb about 'breaking the pitcher at the
door'.

That which most people seek after, and which is obviously an object
of contention, is also a good; for, as has been shown, that is good
which is sought after by everybody, and 'most people' is taken to
be equivalent to 'everybody'. That which is praised is good, since
no one praises what is not good. So, again, that which is praised
by our enemies [or by the worthless] for when even those who have
a grievance think a thing good, it is at once felt that every one
must agree with them; our enemies can admit the fact only because
it is evident, just as those must be worthless whom their friends
censure and their enemies do not. (For this reason the Corinthians
conceived themselves to be insulted by Simonides when he wrote:

"Against the Corinthians hath Ilium no complaint.) "

Again, that is good which has been distinguished by the favour of
a discerning or virtuous man or woman, as Odysseus was distinguished
by Athena, Helen by Theseus, Paris by the goddesses, and Achilles
by Homer. And, generally speaking, all things are good which men deliberately
choose to do; this will include the things already mentioned, and
also whatever may be bad for their enemies or good for their friends,
and at the same time practicable. Things are 'practicable' in two
senses: (1) it is possible to do them, (2) it is easy to do them.
Things are done 'easily' when they are done either without pain or
quickly: the 'difficulty' of an act lies either in its painfulness
or in the long time it takes. Again, a thing is good if it is as men
wish; and they wish to have either no evil at an or at least a balance
of good over evil. This last will happen where the penalty is either
imperceptible or slight. Good, too, are things that are a man's very
own, possessed by no one else, exceptional; for this increases the
credit of having them. So are things which befit the possessors, such
as whatever is appropriate to their birth or capacity, and whatever
they feel they ought to have but lack-such things may indeed be trifling,
but none the less men deliberately make them the goal of their action.
And things easily effected; for these are practicable (in the sense
of being easy); such things are those in which every one, or most
people, or one's equals, or one's inferiors have succeeded. Good also
are the things by which we shall gratify our friends or annoy our
enemies; and the things chosen by those whom we admire: and the things
for which we are fitted by nature or experience, since we think we
shall succeed more easily in these: and those in which no worthless
man can succeed, for such things bring greater praise: and those which
we do in fact desire, for what we desire is taken to be not only pleasant
but also better. Further, a man of a given disposition makes chiefly
for the corresponding things: lovers of victory make for victory,
lovers of honour for honour, money-loving men for money, and so with
the rest. These, then, are the sources from which we must derive our
means of persuasion about Good and Utility.

Part 7

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Since, however, it often happens that people agree that two things
are both useful but do not agree about which is the more so, the next
step will be to treat of relative goodness and relative utility.

A thing which surpasses another may be regarded as being that other
thing plus something more, and that other thing which is surpassed
as being what is contained in the first thing. Now to call a thing
'greater' or 'more' always implies a comparison of it with one that
is 'smaller' or 'less', while 'great' and 'small', 'much' and 'little',
are terms used in comparison with normal magnitude. The 'great' is
that which surpasses the normal, the 'small' is that which is surpassed
by the normal; and so with 'many' and 'few'.

Now we are applying the term 'good' to what is desirable for its own
sake and not for the sake of something else; to that at which all
things aim; to what they would choose if they could acquire understanding
and practical wisdom; and to that which tends to produce or preserve
such goods, or is always accompanied by them. Moreover, that for the
sake of which things are done is the end (an end being that for the
sake of which all else is done), and for each individual that thing
is a good which fulfils these conditions in regard to himself. It
follows, then, that a greater number of goods is a greater good than
one or than a smaller number, if that one or that smaller number is
included in the count; for then the larger number surpasses the smaller,
and the smaller quantity is surpassed as being contained in the larger.

Again, if the largest member of one class surpasses the largest member
of another, then the one class surpasses the other; and if one class
surpasses another, then the largest member of the one surpasses the
largest member of the other. Thus, if the tallest man is taller than
the tallest woman, then men in general are taller than women. Conversely,
if men in general are taller than women, then the tallest man is taller
than the tallest woman. For the superiority of class over class is
proportionate to the superiority possessed by their largest specimens.
Again, where one good is always accompanied by another, but does not
always accompany it, it is greater than the other, for the use of
the second thing is implied in the use of the first. A thing may be
accompanied by another in three ways, either simultaneously, subsequently,
or potentially. Life accompanies health simultaneously (but not health
life), knowledge accompanies the act of learning subsequently, cheating
accompanies sacrilege potentially, since a man who has committed sacrilege
is always capable of cheating. Again, when two things each surpass
a third, that which does so by the greater amount is the greater of
the two; for it must surpass the greater as well as the less of the
other two. A thing productive of a greater good than another is productive
of is itself a greater good than that other. For this conception of
'productive of a greater' has been implied in our argument. Likewise,
that which is produced by a greater good is itself a greater good;
thus, if what is wholesome is more desirable and a greater good than
what gives pleasure, health too must be a greater good than pleasure.
Again, a thing which is desirable in itself is a greater good than
a thing which is not desirable in itself, as for example bodily strength
than what is wholesome, since the latter is not pursued for its own
sake, whereas the former is; and this was our definition of the good.
Again, if one of two things is an end, and the other is not, the former
is the greater good, as being chosen for its own sake and not for
the sake of something else; as, for example, exercise is chosen for
the sake of physical well-being. And of two things that which stands
less in need of the other, or of other things, is the greater good,
since it is more self-sufficing. (That which stands 'less' in need
of others is that which needs either fewer or easier things.) So when
one thing does not exist or cannot come into existence without a second,
while the second can exist without the first, the second is the better.
That which does not need something else is more self-sufficing than
that which does, and presents itself as a greater good for that reason.
Again, that which is a beginning of other things is a greater good
than that which is not, and that which is a cause is a greater good
than that which is not; the reason being the same in each case, namely
that without a cause and a beginning nothing can exist or come into
existence. Again, where there are two sets of consequences arising
from two different beginnings or causes, the consequences of the more
important beginning or cause are themselves the more important; and
conversely, that beginning or cause is itself the more important which
has the more important consequences. Now it is plain, from all that
has been said, that one thing may be shown to be more important than
another from two opposite points of view: it may appear the more important
(1) because it is a beginning and the other thing is not, and also
(2) because it is not a beginning and the other thing is-on the ground
that the end is more important and is not a beginning. So Leodamas,
when accusing Callistratus, said that the man who prompted the deed
was more guilty than the doer, since it would not have been done if
he had not planned it. On the other hand, when accusing Chabrias he
said that the doer was worse than the prompter, since there would
have been no deed without some one to do it; men, said he, plot a
thing only in order to carry it out.

Further, what is rare is a greater good than what is plentiful. Thus,
gold is a better thing than iron, though less useful: it is harder
to get, and therefore better worth getting. Reversely, it may be argued
that the plentiful is a better thing than the rare, because we can
make more use of it. For what is often useful surpasses what is seldom
useful, whence the saying:

"The best of things is water. "

More generally: the hard thing is better than the easy, because it
is rarer: and reversely, the easy thing is better than the hard, for
it is as we wish it to be. That is the greater good whose contrary
is the greater evil, and whose loss affects us more. Positive goodness
and badness are more important than the mere absence of goodness and
badness: for positive goodness and badness are ends, which the mere
absence of them cannot be. Further, in proportion as the functions
of things are noble or base, the things themselves are good or bad:
conversely, in proportion as the things themselves are good or bad,
their functions also are good or bad; for the nature of results corresponds
with that of their causes and beginnings, and conversely the nature
of causes and beginnings corresponds with that of their results. Moreover,
those things are greater goods, superiority in which is more desirable
or more honourable. Thus, keenness of sight is more desirable than
keenness of smell, sight generally being more desirable than smell
generally; and similarly, unusually great love of friends being more
honourable than unusually great love of money, ordinary love of friends
is more honourable than ordinary love of money. Conversely, if one
of two normal things is better or nobler than the other, an unusual
degree of that thing is better or nobler than an unusual degree of
the other. Again, one thing is more honourable or better than another
if it is more honourable or better to desire it; the importance of
the object of a given instinct corresponds to the importance of the
instinct itself; and for the same reason, if one thing is more honourable
or better than another, it is more honourable and better to desire
it. Again, if one science is more honourable and valuable than another,
the activity with which it deals is also more honourable and valuable;
as is the science, so is the reality that is its object, each science
being authoritative in its own sphere. So, also, the more valuable
and honourable the object of a science, the more valuable and honourable
the science itself is-in consequence. Again, that which would be judged,
or which has been judged, a good thing, or a better thing than something
else, by all or most people of understanding, or by the majority of
men, or by the ablest, must be so; either without qualification, or
in so far as they use their understanding to form their judgement.
This is indeed a general principle, applicable to all other judgements
also; not only the goodness of things, but their essence, magnitude,
and general nature are in fact just what knowledge and understanding
will declare them to be. Here the principle is applied to judgements
of goodness, since one definition of 'good' was 'what beings that
acquire understanding will choose in any given case': from which it
clearly follows that that thing is hetter which understanding declares
to be so. That, again, is a better thing which attaches to better
men, either absolutely, or in virtue of their being better; as courage
is better than strength. And that is a greater good which would be
chosen by a better man, either absolutely, or in virtue of his being
better: for instance, to suffer wrong rather than to do wrong, for
that would be the choice of the juster man. Again, the pleasanter
of two things is the better, since all things pursue pleasure, and
things instinctively desire pleasurable sensation for its own sake;
and these are two of the characteristics by which the 'good' and the
'end' have been defined. One pleasure is greater than another if it
is more unmixed with pain, or more lasting. Again, the nobler thing
is better than the less noble, since the noble is either what is pleasant
or what is desirable in itself. And those things also are greater
goods which men desire more earnestly to bring about for themselves
or for their friends, whereas those things which they least desire
to bring about are greater evils. And those things which are more
lasting are better than those which are more fleeting, and the more
secure than the less; the enjoyment of the lasting has the advantage
of being longer, and that of the secure has the advantage of suiting
our wishes, being there for us whenever we like. Further, in accordance
with the rule of co-ordinate terms and inflexions of the same stem,
what is true of one such related word is true of all. Thus if the
action qualified by the term 'brave' is more noble and desirable than
the action qualified by the term 'temperate', then 'bravery' is more
desirable than 'temperance' and 'being brave' than 'being temperate'.
That, again, which is chosen by all is a greater good than that which
is not, and that chosen by the majority than that chosen by the minority.
For that which all desire is good, as we have said;' and so, the more
a thing is desired, the better it is. Further, that is the better
thing which is considered so by competitors or enemies, or, again,
by authorized judges or those whom they select to represent them.
In the first two cases the decision is virtually that of every one,
in the last two that of authorities and experts. And sometimes it
may be argued that what all share is the better thing, since it is
a dishonour not to share in it; at other times, that what none or
few share is better, since it is rarer. The more praiseworthy things
are, the nobler and therefore the better they are. So with the things
that earn greater honours than others-honour is, as it were, a measure
of value; and the things whose absence involves comparatively heavy
penalties; and the things that are better than others admitted or
believed to be good. Moreover, things look better merely by being
divided into their parts, since they then seem to surpass a greater
number of things than before. Hence Homer says that Meleager was roused
to battle by the thought of

"All horrors that light on a folk whose city

"is ta'en of their foes,

"When they slaughter the men, when the burg is

"wasted with ravening flame,

"When strangers are haling young children to thraldom,

"(fair women to shame.) "

The same effect is produced by piling up facts in a climax after the
manner of Epicharmus. The reason is partly the same as in the case
of division (for combination too makes the impression of great superiority),
and partly that the original thing appears to be the cause and origin
of important results. And since a thing is better when it is harder
or rarer than other things, its superiority may be due to seasons,
ages, places, times, or one's natural powers. When a man accomplishes
something beyond his natural power, or beyond his years, or beyond
the measure of people like him, or in a special way, or at a special
place or time, his deed will have a high degree of nobleness, goodness,
and justice, or of their opposites. Hence the epigram on the victor
at the Olympic games:

"In time past, hearing a Yoke on my shoulders,

"of wood unshaven,

"I carried my loads of fish from, Argos to Tegea town. "

So Iphicrates used to extol himself by describing the low estate from
which he had risen. Again, what is natural is better than what is
acquired, since it is harder to come by. Hence the words of Homer:

"I have learnt from none but mysell. "

And the best part of a good thing is particularly good; as when Pericles
in his funeral oration said that the country's loss of its young men
in battle was 'as if the spring were taken out of the year'. So with
those things which are of service when the need is pressing; for example,
in old age and times of sickness. And of two things that which leads
more directly to the end in view is the better. So too is that which
is better for people generally as well as for a particular individual.
Again, what can be got is better than what cannot, for it is good
in a given case and the other thing is not. And what is at the end
of life is better than what is not, since those things are ends in
a greater degree which are nearer the end. What aims at reality is
better than what aims at appearance. We may define what aims at appearance
as what a man will not choose if nobody is to know of his having it.
This would seem to show that to receive benefits is more desirable
than to confer them, since a man will choose the former even if nobody
is to know of it, but it is not the general view that he will choose
the latter if nobody knows of it. What a man wants to be is better
than what a man wants to seem, for in aiming at that he is aiming
more at reality. Hence men say that justice is of small value, since
it is more desirable to seem just than to be just, whereas with health
it is not so. That is better than other things which is more useful
than they are for a number of different purposes; for example, that
which promotes life, good life, pleasure, and noble conduct. For this
reason wealth and health are commonly thought to be of the highest
value, as possessing all these advantages. Again, that is better than
other things which is accompanied both with less pain and with actual
pleasure; for here there is more than one advantage; and so here we
have the good of feeling pleasure and also the good of not feeling
pain. And of two good things that is the better whose addition to
a third thing makes a better whole than the addition of the other
to the same thing will make. Again, those things which we are seen
to possess are better than those which we are not seen to possess,
since the former have the air of reality. Hence wealth may be regarded
as a greater good if its existence is known to others. That which
is dearly prized is better than what is not-the sort of thing that
some people have only one of, though others have more like it. Accordingly,
blinding a one-eyed man inflicts worse injury than half-blinding a
man with two eyes; for the one-eyed man has been robbed of what he
dearly prized.

The grounds on which we must base our arguments, when we are speaking
for or against a proposal, have now been set forth more or less completely.

Part 8

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The most important and effective qualification for success in persuading
audiences and speaking well on public affairs is to understand all
the forms of government and to discriminate their respective customs,
institutions, and interests. For all men are persuaded by considerations
of their interest, and their interest lies in the maintenance of the
established order. Further, it rests with the supreme authority to
give authoritative decisions, and this varies with each form of government;
there are as many different supreme authorities as there are different
forms of government. The forms of government are four-democracy, oligarchy,
aristocracy, monarchy. The supreme right to judge and decide always
rests, therefore, with either a part or the whole of one or other
of these governing powers.

A Democracy is a form of government under which the citizens distribute
the offices of state among themselves by lot, whereas under oligarchy
there is a property qualification, under aristocracy one of education.
By education I mean that education which is laid down by the law;
for it is those who have been loyal to the national institutions that
hold office under an aristocracy. These are bound to be looked upon
as 'the best men', and it is from this fact that this form of government
has derived its name ('the rule of the best'). Monarchy, as the word
implies, is the constitution a in which one man has authority over
all. There are two forms of monarchy: kingship, which is limited by
prescribed conditions, and 'tyranny', which is not limited by anything.

We must also notice the ends which the various forms of government
pursue, since people choose in practice such actions as will lead
to the realization of their ends. The end of democracy is freedom;
of oligarchy, wealth; of aristocracy, the maintenance of education
and national institutions; of tyranny, the protection of the tyrant.
It is clear, then, that we must distinguish those particular customs,
institutions, and interests which tend to realize the ideal of each
constitution, since men choose their means with reference to their
ends. But rhetorical persuasion is effected not only by demonstrative
but by ethical argument; it helps a speaker to convince us, if we
believe that he has certain qualities himself, namely, goodness, or
goodwill towards us, or both together. Similarly, we should know the
moral qualities characteristic of each form of government, for the
special moral character of each is bound to provide us with our most
effective means of persuasion in dealing with it. We shall learn the
qualities of governments in the same way as we learn the qualities
of individuals, since they are revealed in their deliberate acts of
choice; and these are determined by the end that inspires them.

We have now considered the objects, immediate or distant, at which
we are to aim when urging any proposal, and the grounds on which we
are to base our arguments in favour of its utility. We have also briefly
considered the means and methods by which we shall gain a good knowledge
of the moral qualities and institutions peculiar to the various forms
of government-only, however, to the extent demanded by the present
occasion; a detailed account of the subject has been given in the
Politics.

Part 9

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We have now to consider Virtue and Vice, the Noble and the Base, since
these are the objects of praise and blame. In doing so, we shall at
the same time be finding out how to make our hearers take the required
view of our own characters-our second method of persuasion. The ways
in which to make them trust the goodness of other people are also
the ways in which to make them trust our own. Praise, again, may be
serious or frivolous; nor is it always of a human or divine being
but often of inanimate things, or of the humblest of the lower animals.
Here too we must know on what grounds to argue, and must, therefore,
now discuss the subject, though by way of illustration only.

The Noble is that which is both desirable for its own sake and also
worthy of praise; or that which is both good and also pleasant because
good. If this is a true definition of the Noble, it follows that virtue
must be noble, since it is both a good thing and also praiseworthy.
Virtue is, according to the usual view, a faculty of providing and
preserving good things; or a faculty of conferring many great benefits,
and benefits of all kinds on all occasions. The forms of Virtue are
justice, courage, temperance, magnificence, magnanimity, liberality,
gentleness, prudence, wisdom. If virtue is a faculty of beneficence,
the highest kinds of it must be those which are most useful to others,
and for this reason men honour most the just and the courageous, since
courage is useful to others in war, justice both in war and in peace.
Next comes liberality; liberal people let their money go instead of
fighting for it, whereas other people care more for money than for
anything else. Justice is the virtue through which everybody enjoys
his own possessions in accordance with the law; its opposite is injustice,
through which men enjoy the possessions of others in defiance of the
law. Courage is the virtue that disposes men to do noble deeds in
situations of danger, in accordance with the law and in obedience
to its commands; cowardice is the opposite. Temperance is the virtue
that disposes us to obey the law where physical pleasures are concerned;
incontinence is the opposite. Liberality disposes us to spend money
for others' good; illiberality is the opposite. Magnanimity is the
virtue that disposes us to do good to others on a large scale; [its
opposite is meanness of spirit]. Magnificence is a virtue productive
of greatness in matters involving the spending of money. The opposites
of these two are smallness of spirit and meanness respectively. Prudence
is that virtue of the understanding which enables men to come to wise
decisions about the relation to happiness of the goods and evils that
have been previously mentioned.

The above is a sufficient account, for our present purpose, of virtue
and vice in general, and of their various forms. As to further aspects
of the subject, it is not difficult to discern the facts; it is evident
that things productive of virtue are noble, as tending towards virtue;
and also the effects of virtue, that is, the signs of its presence
and the acts to which it leads. And since the signs of virtue, and
such acts as it is the mark of a virtuous man to do or have done to
him, are noble, it follows that all deeds or signs of courage, and
everything done courageously, must be noble things; and so with what
is just and actions done justly. (Not, however, actions justly done
to us; here justice is unlike the other virtues; 'justly' does not
always mean 'nobly'; when a man is punished, it is more shameful that
this should be justly than unjustly done to him). The same is true
of the other virtues. Again, those actions are noble for which the
reward is simply honour, or honour more than money. So are those in
which a man aims at something desirable for some one else's sake;
actions good absolutely, such as those a man does for his country
without thinking of himself; actions good in their own nature; actions
that are not good simply for the individual, since individual interests
are selfish. Noble also are those actions whose advantage may be enjoyed
after death, as opposed to those whose advantage is enjoyed during
one's lifetime: for the latter are more likely to be for one's own
sake only. Also, all actions done for the sake of others, since less
than other actions are done for one's own sake; and all successes
which benefit others and not oneself; and services done to one's benefactors,
for this is just; and good deeds generally, since they are not directed
to one's own profit. And the opposites of those things of which men
feel ashamed, for men are ashamed of saying, doing, or intending to
do shameful things. So when Alcacus said

"Something I fain would say to thee,

"Only shame restraineth me, "

Sappho wrote

"If for things good and noble thou wert yearning,

"If to speak baseness were thy tongue not burning,

"No load of shame would on thine eyelids weigh;

"What thou with honour wishest thou wouldst say. "

Those things, also, are noble for which men strive anxiously, without
feeling fear; for they feel thus about the good things which lead
to fair fame. Again, one quality or action is nobler than another
if it is that of a naturally finer being: thus a man's will be nobler
than a woman's. And those qualities are noble which give more pleasure
to other people than to their possessors; hence the nobleness of justice
and just actions. It is noble to avenge oneself on one's enemies and
not to come to terms with them; for requital is just, and the just
is noble; and not to surrender is a sign of courage. Victory, too,
and honour belong to the class of noble things, since they are desirable
even when they yield no fruits, and they prove our superiority in
good qualities. Things that deserve to be remembered are noble, and
the more they deserve this, the nobler they are. So are the things
that continue even after death; those which are always attended by
honour; those which are exceptional; and those which are possessed
by one person alone-these last are more readily remembered than others.
So again are possessions that bring no profit, since they are more
fitting than others for a gentleman. So are the distinctive qualities
of a particular people, and the symbols of what it specially admires,
like long hair in Sparta, where this is a mark of a free man, as it
is not easy to perform any menial task when one's hair is long. Again,
it is noble not to practise any sordid craft, since it is the mark
of a free man not to live at another's beck and call. We are also
to assume when we wish either to praise a man or blame him that qualities
closely allied to those which he actually has are identical with them;
for instance, that the cautious man is cold-blooded and treacherous,
and that the stupid man is an honest fellow or the thick-skinned man
a good-tempered one. We can always idealize any given man by drawing
on the virtues akin to his actual qualities; thus we may say that
the passionate and excitable man is 'outspoken'; or that the arrogant
man is 'superb' or 'impressive'. Those who run to extremes will be
said to possess the corresponding good qualities; rashness will be
called courage, and extravagance generosity. That will be what most
people think; and at the same time this method enables an advocate
to draw a misleading inference from the motive, arguing that if a
man runs into danger needlessly, much more will he do so in a noble
cause; and if a man is open-handed to any one and every one, he will
be so to his friends also, since it is the extreme form of goodness
to be good to everybody.

We must also take into account the nature of our particular audience
when making a speech of praise; for, as Socrates used to say, 'it
is not difficult to praise the Athenians to an Athenian audience.'
If the audience esteems a given quality, we must say that our hero
has that quality, no matter whether we are addressing Scythians or
Spartans or philosophers. Everything, in fact, that is esteemed we
are to represent as noble. After all, people regard the two things
as much the same.

All actions are noble that are appropriate to the man who does them:
if, for instance, they are worthy of his ancestors or of his own past
career. For it makes for happiness, and is a noble thing, that he
should add to the honour he already has. Even inappropriate actions
are noble if they are better and nobler than the appropriate ones
would be; for instance, if one who was just an average person when
all went well becomes a hero in adversity, or if he becomes better
and easier to get on with the higher he rises. Compare the saying
of lphicrates, 'Think what I was and what I am'; and the epigram on
the victor at the Olympic games,

"In time past, bearing a yoke on my shoulders,

"of wood unshaven, "

and the encomium of Simonides,

"A woman whose father, whose husband, whose

"brethren were princes all. "

Since we praise a man for what he has actually done, and fine actions
are distinguished from others by being intentionally good, we must
try to prove that our hero's noble acts are intentional. This is all
the easier if we can make out that he has often acted so before, and
therefore we must assert coincidences and accidents to have been intended.
Produce a number of good actions, all of the same kind, and people
will think that they must have been intended, and that they prove
the good qualities of the man who did them.

Praise is the expression in words of the eminence of a man's good
qualities, and therefore we must display his actions as the product
of such qualities. Encomium refers to what he has actually done; the
mention of accessories, such as good birth and education, merely helps
to make our story credible-good fathers are likely to have good sons,
and good training is likely to produce good character. Hence it is
only when a man has already done something that we bestow encomiums
upon him. Yet the actual deeds are evidence of the doer's character:
even if a man has not actually done a given good thing, we shall bestow
praise on him, if we are sure that he is the sort of man who would
do it. To call any one blest is, it may be added, the same thing as
to call him happy; but these are not the same thing as to bestow praise
and encomium upon him; the two latter are a part of 'calling happy',
just as goodness is a part of happiness.

To praise a man is in one respect akin to urging a course of action.
The suggestions which would be made in the latter case become encomiums
when differently expressed. When we know what action or character
is required, then, in order to express these facts as suggestions
for action, we have to change and reverse our form of words. Thus
the statement 'A man should be proud not of what he owes to fortune
but of what he owes to himself', if put like this, amounts to a suggestion;
to make it into praise we must put it thus, 'Since he is proud not
of what he owes to fortune but of what he owes to himself.' Consequently,
whenever you want to praise any one, think what you would urge people
to do; and when you want to urge the doing of anything, think what
you would praise a man for having done. Since suggestion may or may
not forbid an action, the praise into which we convert it must have
one or other of two opposite forms of expression accordingly.

There are, also, many useful ways of heightening the effect of praise.
We must, for instance, point out that a man is the only one, or the
first, or almost the only one who has done something, or that he has
done it better than any one else; all these distinctions are honourable.
And we must, further, make much of the particular season and occasion
of an action, arguing that we could hardly have looked for it just
then. If a man has often achieved the same success, we must mention
this; that is a strong point; he himself, and not luck, will then
be given the credit. So, too, if it is on his account that observances
have been devised and instituted to encourage or honour such achievements
as his own: thus we may praise Hippolochus because the first encomium
ever made was for him, or Harmodius and Aristogeiton because their
statues were the first to be put up in the market-place. And we may
censure bad men for the opposite reason.

Again, if you cannot find enough to say of a man himself, you may
pit him against others, which is what Isocrates used to do owing to
his want of familiarity with forensic pleading. The comparison should
be with famous men; that will strengthen your case; it is a noble
thing to surpass men who are themselves great. It is only natural
that methods of 'heightening the effect' should be attached particularly
to speeches of praise; they aim at proving superiority over others,
and any such superiority is a form of nobleness. Hence if you cannot
compare your hero with famous men, you should at least compare him
with other people generally, since any superiority is held to reveal
excellence. And, in general, of the lines of argument which are common
to all speeches, this 'heightening of effect' is most suitable for
declamations, where we take our hero's actions as admitted facts,
and our business is simply to invest these with dignity and nobility.
'Examples' are most suitable to deliberative speeches; for we judge
of future events by divination from past events. Enthymemes are most
suitable to forensic speeches; it is our doubts about past events
that most admit of arguments showing why a thing must have happened
or proving that it did happen.

The above are the general lines on which all, or nearly all, speeches
of praise or blame are constructed. We have seen the sort of thing
we must bear in mind in making such speeches, and the materials out
of which encomiums and censures are made. No special treatment of
censure and vituperation is needed. Knowing the above facts, we know
their contraries; and it is out of these that speeches of censure
are made.

Part 10

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We have next to treat of Accusation and Defence, and to enumerate
and describe the ingredients of the syllogisms used therein. There
are three things we must ascertain first, the nature and number of
the incentives to wrong-doing; second, the state of mind of wrongdoers;
third, the kind of persons who are wronged, and their condition. We
will deal with these questions in order. But before that let us define
the act of 'wrong-doing'.

We may describe 'wrong-doing' as injury voluntarily inflicted contrary
to law. 'Law' is either special or general. By special law I mean
that written law which regulates the life of a particular community;
by general law, all those unwritten principles which are supposed
to be acknowledged everywhere. We do things 'voluntarily' when we
do them consciously and without constraint. (Not all voluntary acts
are deliberate, but all deliberate acts are conscious-no one is ignorant
of what he deliberately intends.) The causes of our deliberately intending
harmful and wicked acts contrary to law are (1) vice, (2) lack of
self-control. For the wrongs a man does to others will correspond
to the bad quality or qualities that he himself possesses. Thus it
is the mean man who will wrong others about money, the profligate
in matters of physical pleasure, the effeminate in matters of comfort,
and the coward where danger is concerned-his terror makes him abandon
those who are involved in the same danger. The ambitious man does
wrong for sake of honour, the quick-tempered from anger, the lover
of victory for the sake of victory, the embittered man for the sake
of revenge, the stupid man because he has misguided notions of right
and wrong, the shameless man because he does not mind what people
think of him; and so with the rest-any wrong that any one does to
others corresponds to his particular faults of character.

However, this subject has already been cleared up in part in our discussion
of the virtues and will be further explained later when we treat of
the emotions. We have now to consider the motives and states of mind
of wrongdoers, and to whom they do wrong.

Let us first decide what sort of things people are trying to get or
avoid when they set about doing wrong to others. For it is plain that
the prosecutor must consider, out of all the aims that can ever induce
us to do wrong to our neighbours, how many, and which, affect his
adversary; while the defendant must consider how many, and which,
do not affect him. Now every action of every person either is or is
not due to that person himself. Of those not due to himself some are
due to chance, the others to necessity; of these latter, again, some
are due to compulsion, the others to nature. Consequently all actions
that are not due to a man himself are due either to chance or to nature
or to compulsion. All actions that are due to a man himself and caused
by himself are due either to habit or to rational or irrational craving.
Rational craving is a craving for good, i.e. a wish-nobody wishes
for anything unless he thinks it good. Irrational craving is twofold,
viz. anger and appetite.

Thus every action must be due to one or other of seven causes: chance,
nature, compulsion, habit, reasoning, anger, or appetite. It is superfluous
further to distinguish actions according to the doers' ages, moral
states, or the like; it is of course true that, for instance, young
men do have hot tempers and strong appetites; still, it is not through
youth that they act accordingly, but through anger or appetite. Nor,
again, is action due to wealth or poverty; it is of course true that
poor men, being short of money, do have an appetite for it, and that
rich men, being able to command needless pleasures, do have an appetite
for such pleasures: but here, again, their actions will be due not
to wealth or poverty but to appetite. Similarly, with just men, and
unjust men, and all others who are said to act in accordance with
their moral qualities, their actions will really be due to one of
the causes mentioned-either reasoning or emotion: due, indeed, sometimes
to good dispositions and good emotions, and sometimes to bad; but
that good qualities should be followed by good emotions, and bad by
bad, is merely an accessory fact-it is no doubt true that the temperate
man, for instance, because he is temperate, is always and at once
attended by healthy opinions and appetites in regard to pleasant things,
and the intemperate man by unhealthy ones. So we must ignore such
distinctions. Still we must consider what kinds of actions and of
people usually go together; for while there are no definite kinds
of action associated with the fact that a man is fair or dark, tall
or short, it does make a difference if he is young or old, just or
unjust. And, generally speaking, all those accessory qualities that
cause distinctions of human character are important: e.g. the sense
of wealth or poverty, of being lucky or unlucky. This shall be dealt
with later-let us now deal first with the rest of the subject before
us.

The things that happen by chance are all those whose cause cannot
be determined, that have no purpose, and that happen neither always
nor usually nor in any fixed way. The definition of chance shows just
what they are. Those things happen by nature which have a fixed and
internal cause; they take place uniformly, either always or usually.
There is no need to discuss in exact detail the things that happen
contrary to nature, nor to ask whether they happen in some sense naturally
or from some other cause; it would seem that chance is at least partly
the cause of such events. Those things happen through compulsion which
take place contrary to the desire or reason of the doer, yet through
his own agency. Acts are done from habit which men do because they
have often done them before. Actions are due to reasoning when, in
view of any of the goods already mentioned, they appear useful either
as ends or as means to an end, and are performed for that reason:
'for that reason,' since even licentious persons perform a certain
number of useful actions, but because they are pleasant and not because
they are useful. To passion and anger are due all acts of revenge.
Revenge and punishment are different things. Punishment is inflicted
for the sake of the person punished; revenge for that of the punisher,
to satisfy his feelings. (What anger is will be made clear when we
come to discuss the emotions.) Appetite is the cause of all actions
that appear pleasant. Habit, whether acquired by mere familiarity
or by effort, belongs to the class of pleasant things, for there are
many actions not naturally pleasant which men perform with pleasure,
once they have become used to them. To sum up then, all actions due
to ourselves either are or seem to be either good or pleasant. Moreover,
as all actions due to ourselves are done voluntarily and actions not
due to ourselves are done involuntarily, it follows that all voluntary
actions must either be or seem to be either good or pleasant; for
I reckon among goods escape from evils or apparent evils and the exchange
of a greater evil for a less (since these things are in a sense positively
desirable), and likewise I count among pleasures escape from painful
or apparently painful things and the exchange of a greater pain for
a less. We must ascertain, then, the number and nature of the things
that are useful and pleasant. The useful has been previously examined
in connexion with political oratory; let us now proceed to examine
the pleasant. Our various definitions must be regarded as adequate,
even if they are not exact, provided they are clear.

Part 11

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We may lay it down that Pleasure is a movement, a movement by which
the soul as a whole is consciously brought into its normal state of
being; and that Pain is the opposite. If this is what pleasure is,
it is clear that the pleasant is what tends to produce this condition,
while that which tends to destroy it, or to cause the soul to be brought
into the opposite state, is painful. It must therefore be pleasant
as a rule to move towards a natural state of being, particularly when
a natural process has achieved the complete recovery of that natural
state. Habits also are pleasant; for as soon as a thing has become
habitual, it is virtually natural; habit is a thing not unlike nature;
what happens often is akin to what happens always, natural events
happening always, habitual events often. Again, that is pleasant which
is not forced on us; for force is unnatural, and that is why what
is compulsory, painful, and it has been rightly said

"All that is done on compulsion is bitterness unto the soul.
"

So all acts of concentration, strong effort, and strain are necessarily
painful; they all involve compulsion and force, unless we are accustomed
to them, in which case it is custom that makes them pleasant. The
opposites to these are pleasant; and hence ease, freedom from toil,
relaxation, amusement, rest, and sleep belong to the class of pleasant
things; for these are all free from any element of compulsion. Everything,
too, is pleasant for which we have the desire within us, since desire
is the craving for pleasure. Of the desires some are irrational, some
associated with reason. By irrational I mean those which do not arise
from any opinion held by the mind. Of this kind are those known as
'natural'; for instance, those originating in the body, such as the
desire for nourishment, namely hunger and thirst, and a separate kind
of desire answering to each kind of nourishment; and the desires connected
with taste and sex and sensations of touch in general; and those of
smell, hearing, and vision. Rational desires are those which we are
induced to have; there are many things we desire to see or get because
we have been told of them and induced to believe them good. Further,
pleasure is the consciousness through the senses of a certain kind
of emotion; but imagination is a feeble sort of sensation, and there
will always be in the mind of a man who remembers or expects something
an image or picture of what he remembers or expects. If this is so,
it is clear that memory and expectation also, being accompanied by
sensation, may be accompanied by pleasure. It follows that anything
pleasant is either present and perceived, past and remembered, or
future and expected, since we perceive present pleasures, remember
past ones, and expect future ones. Now the things that are pleasant
to remember are not only those that, when actually perceived as present,
were pleasant, but also some things that were not, provided that their
results have subsequently proved noble a…