In Aristotelis Ethica Commentarius doctißimus Philippi Melanchthonis

This is Melanchthon's commentary on Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics. Latin-English translation by Gemini 3.1 Pro. Source.

On the Difference Between Christian Doctrine and Philosophy

Those who think there is no difference between Philosophy and Christian doctrine, and who believe that Philosophy and the doctrine of the Gospel are the same kind of teaching, are involved in a great error. Yet many great men seem to applaud this opinion. There are also some illiterate people who clamor that philosophical precepts conflict with piety, and simply condemn them, pretending that their own folly and stupidity is religion. They are plainly, as the proverb goes, "Asses at the lyre."

Although we have often spoken elsewhere about what should be thought of these philosophical studies, since this place specifically demands it, we will briefly recite our opinion here.

Philosophy teaches nothing about the will of God, nothing about the remission of sins, nothing about fear, and nothing about faith toward God. It only teaches precepts regarding external actions and the civil customs of life, much like the public laws of states. But the Gospel explains the will of God to us, forgives sins, promises the Holy Spirit who sanctifies the hearts of the pious, and grants eternal life. Meanwhile, on the outside, it permits us to use civil morals, just as we use food, drink, and clothing. And just as food, drink, and clothing are corporeal things that do not pertain to the righteousness of the heart, so civil morals do not produce the righteousness of the heart.

Therefore, they wander far from the truth who say there is no difference between Philosophy and the Gospel. For all of Philosophy contains nothing except precepts for external action, which we must use—if I may say so—as if on a stage in this civil society of mankind. The Gospel, however, professes something far different. Christ did not come into the world to teach precepts about morals that reason already knew; He came to forgive sins and to grant the Holy Spirit to those who believe in Him.

And yet, just as a magistrate approves of civil customs of life, God approves of them. He wills that morals be civil and humane—that is, that they do not fight against natural reason or the judgment of reason. For just as the judgment of reason is valid in other corporeal matters, such as building or counting, so it is valid in governing civil morals.

Although reason cannot judge or determine the will of God without the Word of God and without the Holy Spirit, it is nonetheless a good creation of God, established to judge those things subjected to the senses, which are conducive to retaining and governing this corporeal life. In these matters, if anyone despises what certain reason demonstrates, he despises the work of God. For the judgment or knowledge of morals remained in reason, even though all our affections became vicious and impure, refusing to obey the judgment of reason after our nature degenerated, corrupted by original sin. The love of ourselves, the love of pleasures, and similar evil affections cling to our nature. Philosophy does not remove these from minds, nor do laws; they only repress or coerce them.

God, however, wills that they be coerced by some discipline even in those who are not yet governed by the Holy Spirit, just as Paul taught when he said, "The law is laid down for the unrighteous." Therefore, just as the laws of republics do not conflict with piety, neither do philosophical precepts.

Those precepts and laws, and philosophy itself, were born from certain principles which are divinely written in human minds—which we often call the laws of nature. These include: that common society must be helped, no one is to be harmed, offspring must be nourished, magistrates must be obeyed, gratitude returned, pacts kept, violence prohibited, and similar things. Philosophy is nothing other than a certain explanation and commentary on these principles. The laws of states expound them, but philosophers have investigated and illuminated them more diligently. Thus, they prescribe somewhat more than lawmakers do, who only extract those precepts of nature necessary for the tranquility of citizens and for settling disputes. Philosophers, however, collect everything honorable as far as reason can perceive, even if some things are not strictly necessary for peace. For instance, public law does not compel you to give to the needy, to whom you owe nothing; but the philosopher commands you to cultivate beneficence. Laws do not everywhere punish the ungrateful; philosophers everywhere command gratitude.

From this it can be understood that Philosophy does not conflict with the Gospel. On the contrary, just as it is right to obey public laws, so it is right to obey philosophical precepts, and these precepts are approved in Romans 2. Paul even calls them the "truth of God."

Christian and Philosophical Virtues Differ

We have spoken so far of the use of doctrine, from which it can be partly understood what difference exists between the virtues themselves. Philosophical virtues are honorable works conforming outwardly to reason or laws, and the human will performs these by its own powers. But these powers, in such great weakness of nature and amidst the snares of the devil, are very limited. We should understand our ability to perform honorable works as being like sick bodies trying to walk: they quickly grow tired on their own and fall at a slight push. Human powers are often overcome by the vehemence of the affections, and are often precipitated by the devil into ruin. Nor does Philosophy offer efficacious remedies against this. For reason cannot eject affections from the mind—such as curbing the love of glory or the love of pleasures—and indeed philosophers often marvel at why there is such weakness and such ferocity of evil affections in minds.

Christian texts teach that this exists due to original sin. Nature is debilitated by divine curse after Adam fell, and Christian texts alone teach about the snares of the devil. Although philosophers saw some men commit monstrous crimes abhorrent to common nature, they did not see the author of such wickedness. The facts themselves compelled poets (since there was no cause in nature for such cruelty) to say that such people were driven by furies, as seen in tragedies. Therefore, this Christian doctrine ought to be even dearer to us, because it so clearly shows us the causes of human vices. Furthermore, it also provides the remedy against them: does it not promise the Holy Spirit, who guides and guards those who trust in Christ?

Properly speaking, Christian virtues are: the Fear of God, Faith in God, loving one's neighbor, laying aside the love of pleasures and glory, Chastity, etc. The Holy Spirit works these in the pious. Augustine says in one place that a man is just if he lives according to his best part; he later retracts this, saying that a man is not yet just if he only lives according to the best part of his nature, but if he is governed by the Holy Spirit. Furthermore, God demands external righteousness from all, even from those who are not born again of God. This, therefore, must be maintained, as we have often said.

Finally, students should observe this: Philosophy teaches about external morals. Imitating Platonic doctrine, some attached to Christian doctrine "purifying" virtues (kathartikas), by which minds are cleansed. But the devil invented these trifles to obscure Christian doctrine and make the ignorant think that Christian doctrine does not differ from Philosophy, and that the powers of reason are sufficient for living rightly and healing all diseases.

Argument of the First Book

The First Book of the Ethics teaches that there is a certain end for which humans were properly created, and it calls this end "happiness" (felicitas). He deduces with certain demonstration that the end of man is virtue, or the action of virtue. Because the proper action of each thing is its end (just as illuminating the world is the end and proper work of the sun), the proper action of man is action according to virtue. For the pleasures of the senses are common to us and the beasts. Therefore, the end of man is action according to virtue.

Almost the entirety of the first book is consumed in this argument. It is pleasant to see how reason discovers that virtue is the best thing, to be preferred above all pleasures and all the conveniences of life, and that we must not depart from virtue for the sake of any utilities, however great. If we follow Aristotle, this will be the first law of nature: that virtue is the end of man, or that virtue must be sought before all things, and from this the whole rationale of living is derived.

From this, many sentiments are drawn by writers, such as this one from Demosthenes' first Philippic: "For I think it is the greatest necessity for free men to consider baseness as disgrace." And jurists, among the precepts of law, number first "to live honorably" (honeste vivere), to signify that nature teaches us virtue, not for the sake of any utilities, but that it must be sought for its own sake, that justice must be cultivated even if no punishments were established for the unjust, and likewise that all utilities must be subordinated to virtue.

It must also be observed that the laws of nature are certain notions, not affections; indeed, our affections do not obey them. For no one seeks virtue for its own sake, but all are moved by rewards or punishments. The Poet signified this: "You will scarcely find one in many thousands who considers Virtue its own reward."

By What Method Aristotle Is to be Read

Aristotle used a somewhat bare and thin style of speaking, and because he deals with matters not remote from popular sense, he uses language that is not entirely popular. Therefore, interpreters often quarrel over words due to their ignorance of his language, and not only do they fail to explain his meaning, but they obscure it with great and untimely calumnies of words. Often, even when they have grasped his meaning, because they do not expound it in a popular style of speaking, nor relate these precepts to common sense and the civil custom of life, they merely display the matter from afar without sufficiently explaining it. They pass on the explanation, and in most places strive to outdo Aristotle in subtlety, refining propositions however subtly proposed even further.

And when they ought to have been doing the opposite—ensuring that these precepts do not seem to abhor the prudent opinions of common men—they strive with a certain ambition to distance themselves as far as possible from the comprehension of other men! Thus, by "understanding," nothing is understood, and Philosophy does not seem adapted to judging civil actions, but appears to be some idle game of men arguing in schools.

We, however, will do our best to explain the things subtly handed down by Aristotle in a popular style of speaking and with a somewhat "thick Minerva" (plain common sense), so that they do not seem placed entirely beyond the intellect of the common people. They will be understood more easily if the listeners frequently consult common sense and consider what use these precepts were invented for, how they arose from nature, how they were noticed by prudent men, and how they shape human judgments about morals.

I will provide an example of this. Aristotle writes that the end of man is virtue, or the action of virtue. When technicians say this in this manner, it is not sufficiently understood by inexperienced men. It is a most weighty sentiment, which extends very broadly in all of life, though handed down briefly and in subtle words. But it will be clearer if someone explains it in a civil manner and shows what this sentence pertains to: that human nature decrees and judges that nothing is better than virtue, and that we must never depart from honor for the sake of any utilities, nor embrace any pleasures against honor. No dangers proposed, no torments, must deflect us from honor. Therefore, Regulus acted rightly when he preferred to return to torture rather than violate his oath. Papinianus acted excellently when he preferred to face death rather than defend the parricide of the emperor. Scaevola acted better, even if his hand was consumed in that fire, than Vitellius, who would have betrayed his country by expelling a tyrant, even if it had been permitted for them to live softly in their country with the tyrant restored.

For this voice of nature, written in the innermost senses of our minds, always urges us not to prefer any utilities or pleasures to virtue. And how widely this whole topic extends in all of life is easy to judge. It is discussed copiously in the fifth book of Cicero's Tusculan Disputations and in the third book of De Officiis. Aristotle encompassed so many and such great things in one little verse, like some oracle, when he says: "Virtue is the end of man." How he deduces this, we indicated above, and will repeat shortly. If anyone explains Aristotle's sentiments in this civil manner and, according to the proverb, speaks "common things commonly" (koina koinōs), they will be understood and perceived much more clearly.

It is enough for us to have shown some example of this here; others who have the leisure may explain similar sentences more copiously. From this, it also appears that without eloquence, the light of Philosophy is lacking. Perhaps it would also be useful to compare such passages to Christian doctrine, which teaches that the action of virtue, which can be done by us, is not our final end. Rather, we are created for the glory of God, that we may know God—but of this, elsewhere.

Just as in other arts one begins from the most known and common things, so Aristotle here begins from manifest principles and gradually progresses to the more obscure, just as Geometry weaves everything from common sentences, as far as it can be divided. The whole is greater than the part. The Physicist teaches at the beginning that there are four elements, so Aristotle at the beginning teaches that there are ends of all things and actions, and that each thing has its own end as a certain good—just as downwards is for earth, upwards for fire, victory for the soldier, and profit for the merchant.

On the Second Chapter

In the second chapter, he speaks of the order of ends: that there must be some ultimate end. For since nature seeks an end, it would seek in vain unless it could attain some ultimate end. The knowledge of this, he says, will bring great utility to life. He shows it like a target of true goods, greatly to be desired, which unless known, life cannot be rightly instituted. For unless Regulus had felt that faith was a greater good than pleasure, he would never have returned to such horrendous tortures.

Therefore, he asks to what art the inquiry concerning the end of goods pertains, to signify for what purpose its knowledge is conducive. For when he says the inquiry of the end of goods pertains to the science of governing states, he signifies that it is conducive not only to private life, knowing the end of goods, but also to making laws and establishing and governing republics. Just as in private life it is useful to know that honor must be preferred to all utilities and pleasures, so in establishing or governing states, the laws and counsels of princes ought to prefer honor to pleasures and utility.

Therefore, the Athenians rightly punished that man who gave advice that was useful, but dishonorable. Thrasybulus acted excellently when, in a civil victory, he did not indulge in anger but spared the vanquished, establishing an amnesty (amnestian) which was a profit to the vanquished and a disadvantage to the victors. This passage of Aristotle looks to this: that the knowledge of the end of goods is not only useful in private life but much more so in the administration of the republic, because the good of individuals and of the universal state is the same.

In Plato's Gorgias, there is a long disputation about which art is most useful to those governing Republics: Rhetoric or Philosophy. Aristotle alludes to that disputation here, signifying by "politics" the comprehension of both the science of Philosophy, Rhetoric, and the military science.

Scholia on Chapter III

The third chapter contains this sentence: in the disputation of morals, we should not require the demonstration of all precepts. We advised above that precepts of morals are born from nature, and most are gathered by certain demonstration, and this is not doubtful. But just as in laws, even if they themselves arise from nature, some are posited more from probable reasons than from certain and necessary demonstration, so here in certain places we follow plausible, not necessary, reasons.

For example, when we say good fortune is conducive to happiness, it can happen elsewhere that it hinders it. Therefore, it is not an entirely necessary reason when he writes that good fortune is required for happiness, nor was it a necessary reason for Scaevola why a private citizen killed Tiberius Gracchus; he followed some probable reason. Nor is there a strict reason in the precepts of liberality regarding exactly how much of his own a person ought to give away. Therefore, Aristotle advises that in some places necessary reasons must be sought, and in others they are not to be sought, but a man skilled by experience will judge those things which do not have a necessary reason. Just as a commander skilled by experience knows when to fight in an open field and when in narrow passes; what he ought to do when caught in a narrow pass, he does not always follow general precepts. He demands, therefore, that those who learn these precepts should experience them in living, and apply them in practice, just as Cicero says, so that they may become good calculators of duties.

Scholia on Chapter IV

Above, Aristotle taught that there is some ultimate end for man; now he names it. He calls it "happiness" (felicitas), but he does not yet hand down the definition of happiness, but first treats various opinions about the blessed life. For in so many errors of men, one thing seems best to some, another to others. A great part of mankind is deceived and does not see where nature leads us, but obeying the worst affections (as Plato says, their counselors), they generally disagree with reason, which simply calls us to honor.

Furthermore, in this chapter he teaches that causes are sometimes gathered from effects, just as doctors, when they see a body inflamed, reason that the causes of the disease are hot. And a great part of human knowledge hunts for preceding causes from effects, and sometimes effects are gathered from causes (though this is rarer, even if we sometimes use this path). Aristotle warns in this place that he will mostly hand down precepts, but the causes of the precepts must be gathered from the precepts themselves by a prudent or learned man. For example, when it is taught that virtue is the end of man, the cause is sought a posteriori, namely from its proper property. When we reason thus: "That action is the end of man which is his proper action. The actions of the senses are not proper to man, but common to man with beasts. Action according to virtue is proper to man. Therefore, action according to virtue is the end of man."

The Epicureans would not have disagreed with the older Philosophy if reason could completely see the preceding causes, why virtue is the end of man, and not pleasure. For the Epicureans used a certain comparison and sought the end of man from posterior signs. Because they saw all men spontaneously drawn to pleasure, they argued from this effect: "That action is the end to which nature is spontaneously drawn; but all are spontaneously drawn to pleasure; therefore, pleasure is the end." But the Epicureans were deceived in this comparison. For even if man is drawn to pleasure, reason nevertheless protests and disapproves of the affection. But philosophers did not see the cause of this dissension in human nature, why the affection disagrees with reason; only Christian doctrine shows it.

Finally, it must be observed that Aristotle warns that once the precepts are known, it is easy to notice the causes. And if anyone does not discover these himself, or does not see them when pointed out, he calls such a man "of no account," according to the verse of Hesiod. Therefore, those who read the precepts of morals should know that they ought to inquire into the causes of the precepts; these are precisely what they call the laws of nature, and finally, those who have comprehended these causes have a thoroughly inspected human nature.

What Happiness Is

Above, he named the end of goods "happiness," and warned that all agree on the name. Now the thing itself is sought, and in these human errors, some judge happiness to be one thing, others another, because men do not follow the judgment of reason alone, but a great part judges based on the worst affections, as Plato says, their counselors. There are three kinds of life: the life of pleasure, the civil life, and the studious life.

Those who follow the first kind of life judge pleasure to be the end of goods. Aristotle refutes this opinion thus: Since the proper action of man is his end, pleasure is not the end, because it is common with beasts.

In civil life, many judge the end of goods to be glory. He refutes this opinion thus: Since glory is sought so that we may seem endowed with virtue, it follows that it is sought for the sake of virtue. We confess, therefore, that virtue is superior to the opinion of it. Likewise, the estimation of us is placed in the judgments of men, not in ourselves, but happiness ought to be properly ours. Horace alludes to this and signifies that virtue is a more solid good than glory: "Virtue, knowing no base repulse, shines with untarnished honors, nor takes up or lays down the axes at the whim of the popular breeze."

Finally, he teaches that not even virtue itself is the highest good, but the action of virtue, because virtue unless it produces actions is useless; therefore, the action is superior. Here, however, readers must be warned regarding those who taught that happiness is located in virtue. They were not speaking of idle virtue, just as we often above included the action of virtue simultaneously under the name of virtue, to comprehend the habit. Here also the distinction between habit and action must be sought from Dialectics. For just as the wrestling grounds have some athletes who, even if they never exercise, we might imagine could have virtue in someone, even if they do not exercise it. But habit is a quality collected from many actions, for just as bodies brought near a fire become warm, just as wax when handled becomes soft, so minds in many actions, as if by agitation, conceive a certain power to perform those actions more easily.

On the Contemplative Life

The last topic is about the studious life, which is the life of those who abstain from the administration of public affairs, hidden away in literary studies and in the inquiry of nature. He disputes copiously about this kind of life in the last book. Nor should it be passed over here that theologians, imitating this passage of Aristotle, have made two kinds of life: the Active and the Contemplative, about which many disputations exist. Therefore, we will briefly write down our opinion.

If they called the "contemplative life" the life of those who are exercised by afflictions and experience spiritual motions, they would rightly judge the contemplative life to be the Christian life, and superior to the active. And thus the ancient Theologians wanted the contemplative kind to be understood, according to this sentence of Paul: "Those who are led by the Spirit of God, these are the sons of God." But if they understand the contemplative life to be that which is spent in studies, that philosophical life will be able to be called Christian, or a certain part of the active life. For it is engaged in human actions and labors, namely in studies. But Christian knowledge is divinely exercised and instructed in afflictions. This also happens in the midst of the occupations of the republic, as in David's case is well known.

Scholia on Chapter V: On Ideas

This passage on Ideas, which Aristotle disputes here, is found in the sixth book of Plato's Republic. Plato's opinion is not very obscure, but to men alienated from the study of eloquence, it is not sufficiently understood. For they are no more suited to treating Plato's philosophy, having not touched the studies of eloquence, than an ass is to a lyre. Nor is it necessary here to repeat all the dreams of the neoterics about Ideas.

There are those who think this is Plato's opinion: that there are Ideas in the minds of men born simultaneously with us, that is, notions of certain things, and that there are other Ideas of other things acting as exciters. Just as in Homer's mind there was a certain Idea of a good poem, and in Josquin's mind an Idea of music, by which he could feel and judge what sounds were most sweet, and to effect this Idea an optimal song as an example. In Julius Caesar, the Idea of fortitude, by which he was moved to fortitude. In Cicero, the Idea of eloquence, through which he felt what the optimal form of an oration was, which having followed and imitated, he produced the best oration. In Brutus's mind, a different Idea of eloquence settled, following which he approved a narrower kind of speaking.

And those who judge Plato to have felt this, do not deny that these ideas are thoroughly discerned. If anyone vehemently contends that this is Plato's opinion, let them also establish in this place that he is happy who has the ideas of virtues—that is, innate notions, and indeed more illustrious ones than the common crowd has, which not only lead to knowledge but also draw and impel to action. Just as a brave general who has an innate image of fortitude planted by nature, whose beauty captivates him, approves of fortitude and imitates it to perform it.

To me, this explanation of ideas does not seem entirely abhorrent to Plato, nor far from the truth. For perfect virtue is that which is effected not only by our effort but toward which we are also moved by some natural impulse. Some call this impulse or cause of this motion an "Idea." For they think that a certain singular and more exciting notion (than is present in others) caused Josquin to feel what is sweetest, and fixated on its consideration, to produce the best songs. Therefore, if anyone follows this, an Idea is the cause of that motion, which Aristotle calls "a certain divine impulse" (hormēn theian). But Aristotle concedes that there are different natural motions in different people. For certainly Caesar was driven by one nature, Josquin by another. But he denies that other notions are planted by nature in some than in others, only common notions of principles, as he calls them, which indicate they are born with us, and uniformly in all healthy people, though not in the monstrous.

But it manifestly appears from the sixth book of the Republic that Plato spoke civilly about Ideas, and called an Idea nothing other than the perfect knowledge of a thing, acquired by doctrine and use, and confirmed. And he says ideas are eternal and immutable because the perfect knowledge of any one thing is perpetual and always similar to itself, since we understand the necessary causes of the thing. Just as Aristotle also wrote that demonstrations are necessary and perpetual because they contain the causes of things, which, whoever thoroughly sees into the thing, cannot be deceived. And because from those causes always the same conclusions and the same effects necessarily follow, therefore demonstrations are called perpetual and immutable.

But he who does not see the causes of things, who holds no demonstrations, but takes opinions from the crowd, is often basely deceived. Such a person, as Plato says, does not look at the things themselves, but at the images of things, such as appear in water. What is more uncertain, what is more fleeting, than the images which water reflects? Thus, the uneducated can establish nothing certain about the duties of virtue. They are often deceived by the appearance of right, because they do not see the wellsprings of the precepts, nor do they know how to interpret them according to the variety of circumstances. Thus, when the crowd hears that promises must be kept, they do not interpret the rule but think it must be kept even in a wicked matter. Therefore, Plato requires perfect doctrine, and places happiness in this, because perfect doctrine governs all actions.

An architect errs unless he holds the enclosed image in his mind which he imitates in building. No one can exist as a good general unless he comprehends in his mind the universal science of military affairs, looking into which he conducts all things. No one can be eloquent unless he holds the form of eloquence seated in his mind, from which he judges what oration is best. Thus, a man cannot exist as good unless he holds the perfect notion of virtue, which he follows in all deliberations.

The whole of Plato's disputation looks only to this: that we should remember that without Philosophy and without perfect doctrine, no one can be happy or truly a good man. For there were in those times in Greece Sophists who taught only Rhetoric, and taught that it was the one art useful for living well and excellently. Plato everywhere attacks them and shows that they had no form and no certain doctrine, but only certain popular opinions, to which they applied a raw exercise of speaking without Dialectic. Therefore, Plato magnificently preaches another kind of doctrine, which the Philosophers professed, who sought the causes and wellsprings of things and morals according to the precepts of Dialectic. And truly this diligence is to be preached, without which no one can judge rightly concerning great matters.

Plato used a grand sound of speech and splendid figures. When the Neoterics did not understand these, they dreamed that Ideas were called God, and I know not what minds descending divinely into the souls of men, when Plato felt something entirely different! For he calls an Idea nothing other than what Aristotle calls a "species" (form), but in such a way that if it is perfectly known and comprehended—if the definition, if the causes are perfectly seen.

Nevertheless, it is not to be denied that to achieve perfect notion, it is highly conducive if one has those natural motions which incline the mind to a certain art. For Homer embraces a more perfect image of a good poem than Choerilus, because he is aided by nature in that matter. And Plato makes mention of such natural motions in the Phaedrus, disputing about Ideas, where he teaches that perfect notion can happen if the mind is excited by natural impulse. Nor does "Idea" signify anything else there than elsewhere, namely the perfect notion and image of the thing enclosed in the mind, and comprehended according to the precepts of dialectic, which will be more perfect in such a genius because it is aided by nature.

Furthermore, the interpreters were deceived by Plato's grandiloquence and those poetic figures here, so that they thought he taught something entirely different, when he is only doing one thing: inviting the studies of men to dialectic, while incidentally disputing about the variety of geniuses. If anyone skillfully interprets Plato in this way, he will understand that his opinion is not absurd, nor does it differ greatly from Aristotle's opinion. That which he signifies at the end, Aristotle also signifies. For just as we say a perfect Architect is one who has the notion of his art and of the building enclosed in his mind, so we can say a perfectly wise or good man is one who has the perfect science of virtue encompassed in his mind. And as Aristotle places happiness in action, so let us understand it to be placed by Plato in that notion, because it produces and governs actions.

For Plato does not speak of an idle notion. And it cannot be that a perfect notion exists in one who does not use it, who does not act, who does not exercise it. Nor is it absurd to place happiness in a notion—namely, in a durable habit, which certainly by this name excels actions, because it rules actions. Therefore, just as we define a General as one who has a perfect opinion of military science, which he follows in conducting affairs, so we can define a good man as one who holds the image or idea of the good (that is, the perfect notion), which he applies in counsel in all duties, and follows. What inconvenience does Plato's opinion have, understood this way? Nor does it differ much from Aristotle, and it appears true, or certainly highly probable.

Perhaps someone will doubt my credibility, suspecting that I am interpreting Plato more civilly than he intended. But the sixth book of the Republic, which Aristotle touches upon in this place, manifestly testifies that an idea signifies absolutely nothing else than the perfect notion of a thing, and, as they speak in dialectic, demonstrative. For as he often does elsewhere, in that place he also attacks the Sophists (that is, the Rhetoricians) who professed to hand down the doctrine of virtue while not inquiring into the causes of things and wellsprings according to the precepts of dialectic. Cicero also supports this for me, who in The Perfect Orator understood Idea in this way, calling the Idea of eloquence the absolute and proper definition or description.

But someone will say, why then does Aristotle argue with Plato beyond the point? Aristotle did this, not out of hatred for Plato as fools think, but moved by a certain dissimilarity of nature. For since he was made for a bare style of speech and strove to speak properly in teaching, he could not bear with equanimity that grandiloquence of Plato, especially since it was hardly useful for teaching. Therefore, while he ridicules Ideas elsewhere, he also attacks them here, signifying that Plato speaks improperly when he commands us to conceive one single image of the good. For no common image can be conceived for substances and accidents. There is no common image of honorable things and useful things. He also ridicules this: that Plato said there is a difference between "the man himself" (to anthrōpon) and "a man" (anthrōpos), because he wanted to be understood that there is a great difference between the bare and proper knowledge of a thing (abstracted from circumstances) and the thing known as it exists in circumstances. Fortitude considered in itself is a far different thing from what it is in Cato, where it is almost akin to stubbornness.

Plato wanted the bare thing to be seen in perfect knowledge, not as it happens in this or that person. But the novelty of the words offended Aristotle. For all who love a bare kind of speech naturally abhor those novelties of words and the pomp of words.

As to the fact that Plato commands us to comprehend the whole Idea, he does not mean an Idea common to substances and accidents; he is speaking of virtue. He commands us to perfectly know this whole: the causes, the beauty, that is, to consider its power, because for living rightly it is by no means enough to know vulgar opinions about morals.

Scholia on Chapter VI

Here he recounts a certain opinion of Pythagoras, who said that good is one, but evil is multiple. This is to be interpreted (as Aristotle, if I am not mistaken, does in the second book of the Ethics) that good is that which is done by one simple and certain reason, while evil is varied, precisely because it diverges from the right in every way. Just as it is also customary to say that the speech of truth is simple, and things that differ from it are false, even if they differ among themselves. As in music, a certain voice agrees perfectly, but besides this, however it is shaped, whether it sounds too grand or too thin, it is out of tune. It is just to render to each his own, which is simple and one. But what belongs to another is taken away in various ways: either by public force, or by theft, or by calumny, or by other impostures. Thus the opinion of Pythagoras is to be accepted civilly. But if anyone seeks a more remote interpretation, by not understanding it, he understands nothing.

He returns to Ideas, and shows that there is not one Idea or notion of honorable and useful things, for those are various goods which cannot be represented by one common image or notion. But the name of "good" falls on many things, either because they are referred to a good end (as money is good because it is an instrument of virtue), or by similarity (as glory, for it is the opinion of virtue).

Finally, he concludes this disputation with a weighty argument. If Plato calls an Idea a certain image, partly effected by nature, and entirely alien to singular things (since it cannot be effected by us), happiness certainly will not be placed in it. Then he adds a correction, that Plato's opinion might not seem entirely absurd: because it profits us to have an image in which we look at what things are good, and which direct our actions as an example. But he pulls back his judgment, stating that it cannot be affirmed by necessary and certain reason that a certain perfect image or notion of good must be conceived, alien to singulars, or that it profits a doctor nothing to look at health in general, but the health of individuals must be considered in curing.

Scholia on Chapter VII

Finally, Aristotle arrives at the definition of happiness, but before he recites it, in his usual manner he repeats the preceding propositions. He reminds us that there are twofold ends: some are ultimate, others are steps to ultimate ends. But happiness is a certain ultimate end—that is, the optimum of all things that nature seeks, whose sake something is preferred, contrary to how nature is preferred. Just as when Cyrilus preferred the useful, but a base servitude, to an honorable and just war. Afterward, he teaches that the same is signified by the name autarkeias (self-sufficiency), which signifies happiness. For it appears that some used the name autarkeias more. Then he hands down the definition.

Happiness is the action of man according to the best and most perfect virtue, in a perfect life. It is especially necessary to remember this definition, for it is the fountain of the remaining disputation. Furthermore, we advised above that certain common sentences handed down here, grasped by reason, can be called the laws of nature, or the right of nature. For from these sentences all the laws of states are born. Therefore, this definition should also be numbered among the laws of nature: that the end of man, or happiness, which reason comprehends, is the action of virtue.

But just as the Scythians did not see the common opinion of nature concerning defending guests (for they sacrifice guests), or just as the Turks do not see the common opinion of nature concerning contracting marriage (so Epicurus deviated from nature, who proposed pleasure over honor). He deviates from nature who defrauds another in contracting for the sake of his own utility. Therefore, just as it is useful for a doctor to know the position of the limbs in the body, so it is useful for us in acting to know these laws of nature, or at least in judging nature.

But here we must be careful in distinguishing this definition from Christian happiness. Nothing is handed down here about the will of God, nothing about the fear of God, nothing about faith toward God. The end is far different, the happiness shown by God is far different than that which reason comprehends. For Christ says: "This is eternal life, that they know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." That is, to believe that for Christ's sake the Father forgives us and loves us, that He saves and justifies us. Therefore, Christian happiness is not placed in civil action, but in faith or the recognition of God, etc. Then the Holy Spirit effects Christian happiness, who terrifies hearts, shows our vicious nature, and again raises up terrified hearts when He shows the mercy of God in Christ. Thus the Holy Spirit renews man, implants the knowledge of God so that we may expect good things from God, and implants good affections: a humble heart, loving peace, chaste, etc. But the happiness which Aristotle defines is effected by reason, namely honorable actions toward men, which are discerned in this civil life.

Although the Law of God, as well as nature, teaches these actions, those who dreamed that Christian righteousness is nothing other than civil actions of this kind err greatly.

Furthermore, it is worthy of memory in this chapter that he eruditely gathers that the proper action of man is the end. He makes three levels of life: first is the vegetative life, second is the sensitive life (these we have in common with beasts), the third is the rational life. He makes two forms of this: partly it is called rational only because it obeys reason (thus even sense, when it obeys reason, pertains to the third level); partly it is called rational because reason itself judges and acts, without the duties of other members, etc.

Again, reason has two duties: it either deliberates and judges about morals, or it inquires into the natures of things, as when it considers Geometry or Astronomy. Because the third level is proper to man, happiness must necessarily be placed in it. For happiness must be the proper action of man.

He requires, however, perfect virtue in a perfect life, so that no one calls a boy happy (who cannot yet judge about actions), or one who has acted rightly only once. He adds the proverb, "One swallow does not make a spring." Therefore, time and long practice are needed for solid virtue or happiness.

On Principles

Aristotle warns at the end of the seventh chapter that principles must be diligently investigated in this art, just as in other arts. For it is only called an art when certain conclusions or sentences, or precepts, are deduced from certain principles in a necessary order; this method men also call a method of teaching.

Principles are certain notions impressed divinely on our minds, which we hold naturally without a teacher. Just as we naturally know how to count, just as eyes naturally see, so the natural mind perceives certain common sentences, etc. Principles are said to be twofold: some are speculative, some are practical. Practical ones are those that pertain to morals, such as "to each his own must be rendered," "magistrates must be obeyed." Those that pertain to other arts are called speculative, such as "the whole is greater than any part."

But there are principles known by nature without a teacher. But when Aristotle says here that principles are shown sometimes by induction, sometimes by sense, sometimes by custom, he does not mean that principles must be proved. For nature spontaneously assents to them. Aristotle prudently uses the word "to perceive" (cernere); he says principles are perceived sometimes by sense, sometimes by custom. For principles are universal or common sentences. But common sentences are not used unless concerning singular things; sense or experience operates regarding singulars. Therefore, sense or experience makes principles clearer. Then the mind exerts its sharpness, or natural judgment, when it experiences the use of that notion.

Therefore, Aristotle rightly said that principles are made certain, that is, clearer, by custom and sense. In moral matters, custom renders principles clearer, for he who is accustomed to returning favors sees the force and beauty of this sentence ("gratitude must be rendered for benefits done") better than he who is not accustomed to it, for we always understand perfectly those things whose use we have.

And this must also be observed: that everything taught in the arts must be referred to the first principles, as to certain rules. Then they are firm, then they are certain, when they agree with the principles. For principles are so certain that we naturally assent to them without any doubt, just as those things are certain which we comprehend by sense. Therefore, Aristotle warns in this place that principles must be diligently sought out, and that in all precepts we must recur to the principles. And he added the beautiful sentence that the principle is more than half of the whole, alluding to the proverb: "The beginning is half of everything" (Archē hēmisu pantos).

Scholia on Chapter VIII

Gradually Aristotle progressed and taught that there is some end for man, and established what that end is. Now in the eighth chapter he does nothing other than reconcile his opinion, in some way, with the opinions of others. Some said virtue, some prudence, some wisdom is the end, some said virtue joined with pleasure is the end. Aristotle says these opinions almost agree with his own, because all look to this: that the end is in the proper goods of man, not in the goods of the body or the goods of fortune.

Secondly, those who teach that virtue is the end do not speak properly enough, because a habit can exist in idle people. Therefore, since action is more excellent, it is more fitting that action be judged the end; just as in the Olympics those who compete are crowned, not those who merely excel in strength.

Thirdly, pleasure is joined with honorable actions. Because pleasure is the agreement of an action with nature. In sense, it is called pleasure when an action agrees with sense; for example, when a cold body happens to be warmed again, the sense is affected by pleasure. In the mind, it is called pleasure when an action agrees with choice—whether the mind errs or does not err in choosing. That agreement of action with nature (sometimes with sense, sometimes with mind) is called pleasure.

But someone will say: If pleasure is also approved in this place, what is the difference between Aristotle's and Epicurus's opinion? I answer that there is this difference: Aristotle teaches that virtue is the end, even if pleasure were not to follow. For that is the proper action of man. Epicurus does not approve of virtue for its own sake, but only because it produces pleasure; otherwise he would not approve of it. Those who do not steal, who do not rob, live securely because this pleasure follows. Therefore, he forbids stealing and robbing; he does not forbid them because they are base in themselves. Furthermore, Aristotle calls pleasure the approbation of conscience; Epicurus calls pleasure not the approbation of conscience, but the absence of pain in sense or mind. Therefore, he wants virtue to be sought not for itself, but because baseness brings cruelty to sense, since punishments must be paid, or brings grief to the mind; if it did not bring grief, he would not require virtue.

You see, therefore, that there is a great difference between Aristotle's and Epicurus's opinion. Epicurus refers virtue only to reward; Aristotle follows the natural judgment of reason, which simply teaches that virtue must be sought, even if the reward does not correspond. This is the genuine and truest voice of nature, which Epicurus does not notice.

Fourthly, in this chapter he teaches that there are three kinds of goods: Goods of the body, goods of fortune, and goods of the mind. And he teaches that for happiness, besides goods of the mind, goods of the body and fortune are also required, but as instruments of the end, or of virtue. Here the other Philosophers vehemently lash Aristotle. For they dispute that since nature is perfect, it can produce happiness by itself. But if fortune is required, nature will not be able to produce happiness. For fortune is not in our power. But this question is repeated at the end of this book.

Fifthly, this chapter contains nothing very memorable, except a certain common sentence which is often cited. True things agree with all true things, but from false things the truth immediately disagrees. The use of this sentence is great. For nothing can be true which disagrees anywhere from another true sentence. Again, the force of truth is such that all of nature agrees with it from all sides. Which can then be understood when true sentences are placed in their proper place in disciplines. There it can be seen how they agree with the principles to which we must ultimately arrive. "For with the true, all facts harmonize; but with the false, the truth quickly clashes." (Tō men gar alēthei panta synadei ta hyparchonta, tō de pseudei tachy diaphōnei talēthes).

Scholia on Chapter IX

A just method of teaching is one in which the art is handed down in a certain order: whether it is, what it is, and what causes it has. First, therefore, Aristotle taught that there is some end for man; then he expounded what it is, namely action according to perfect virtue. Here he inquires about the causes of happiness: whether happiness is prepared by God, or by our doctrine and custom.

Initially, he answers ambiguously: if any goods happen to man divinely, it is fitting that happiness also happens by God. Afterward, he adds a preterition, saying this disputation (whether anything happens to man divinely) belongs to another place. We have often said elsewhere that Philosophy can affirm nothing about the will of God toward men; Aristotle confesses this very thing in this place, doubting whether goods happen to man divinely. Therefore, those who mix Philosophy with Christian doctrine are not to be tolerated in any way.

What difference there is between the two kinds of doctrine, how far apart they stand, we have said elsewhere. Just as we can produce the works of other arts (whether Architecture or Geometry), so reason can in some way produce civil virtues. For just as reason comprehends the precepts of Architecture, so it comprehends the precepts of civil morals. Therefore, Aristotle pronounces here, omitting the disputation about the will of God, that virtue or happiness is acquired by our powers. Therefore, the causes of honorable actions are the judgment of reason, and the will obeying the judgment.

He offers certain reasons why happiness is acquired by our powers. The end in each nature ought to be common to all who use their powers soundly; but if virtue could not be effected by our powers, but were truly from God, it would not be a common end of all men; therefore, virtue can be effected by us. Likewise, things that are made by nature or art are more excellent than those by chance; therefore, happiness should not be attributed to fortune. For it is absurd to attribute the highest good to a lesser cause, namely fortune. Likewise, fortuitous things happen without our counsel; but happiness is an action of the mind, therefore it does not happen by chance, but by our counsels (otherwise we could attribute happiness even to beasts).

He disputes this question briefly for the present. For below he will speak more copiously about the causes of virtue, about reason, and about the affections which oppose reason. It will be useful to remember common propositions here, such as that the end is common to all individuals in any given species, and similar things.

Finally, since the disputation about free will is engaged in this question, it must be known that, even judging by scripture, we can perform the external works of civil virtues by natural powers in some way, just as we can perform the works of Geometry or Architecture. And this similarity seems suitable for the explanation of this matter. Accordingly, we have free will to that extent, but we are often hindered, as affections are violent and snatch us against the judgment of reason, as Medea says: "I see the better, and approve it; I follow the worse." Often the Devil impels us not to obey right judgment. Just as trees are hindered by a storm from bearing the fruit they naturally tend to produce. Otherwise, just as the knowledge of counting, measuring, and similar arts are excellent gifts in nature, so civil virtue is a necessary and excellent thing scattered in human nature, and the most outstanding good in carnal nature.

Yet this is not eternal righteousness, by which we are justified before God. For we cannot produce eternal righteousness by free will, or by reason alone.

Scholia on Chapter X

In the beginning, the sentence of Solon is refuted: that no one is to be called happy before death. A dialectical reason is added: it is necessary for a proposition about the past to be true, that it must have had some truth in the present. Therefore, it is necessary that at some time in life he could have been said to be happy, who after death we say was happy.

Then he establishes that happiness does not depend on fortune, otherwise the happy man would be like a Chameleon, that is, constantly mutable. Thirdly, although there are various turns of fortune, nevertheless one can remain happy because virtue is something stable, and misfortunes do not shake him from being happy; for virtue shines in them. And here he compares the good man to a cube, which, however it falls, always stands firm. Thus the good man stands erect in every fortune.

Fourthly, he adds a correction to the previous sentence: great misfortunes, which completely hinder honorable actions, transfer the happy man to unhappiness. But this does not happen easily. Here the Stoics attack Aristotle, contending that happiness depends solely on virtue, and that fortune has no power at all over the wise man. They say the wise man will be happy even in the bull of Phalaris! But Aristotle must be understood civilly: the principal cause of happiness is virtue, as he says in the text. But fortune is an instrument; if it hinders actions, it somewhat harms happiness, just as a craftsman has art as the principal cause, but if instruments are lacking, the art is hindered in some way. The principal part remains, even if some degree is lacking.

Scholia on Chapter XI

He prefaces that we must speak about virtue, but virtue cannot be defined unless the nature of man is first considered, just as a Doctor needs to know the natures of bodies. Furthermore, he reminded above that there are three levels of life: the vegetative, the sensitive, and the rational. He makes mention of these parts here, and yet divides man into two: into the rational part, and the irrational part. The irrational parts are the vegetative and the sensitive.

For experience testifies that appetites oppose reason. The rational part is properly judgment. The irrational part is twofold: the vegetative, which absolutely cannot be ruled by reason, and the sensitive, which nevertheless submits to being ruled. Thus the rational is also twofold: one which has reason in itself (namely judgment or the mind), the other is appetite, insofar as it obeys reason, whether it follows the cognition of sense or the cognition of the intellect.

There is a sentence at the end of this book: "Reason exhorts to the best." This is how it is commonly cited. The unlearned read this, who extol free will or human powers with immoderate praises. And I scarcely know whether the disputations about synderesis (as they call it), born from this poorly understood sentence, are correct. For inept men everywhere dream that Christian righteousness is merely civil morals. Therefore, they mix Philosophy with the Gospel, as if there is no difference between them.

We have often said that there are certain notions about civil morals divinely written in human minds. These remained even in corrupt nature. But reason by itself has no certain notion of the will of God. Add to this that the affections do not even obey the precepts of civil morals. Therefore, Aristotle's sentence is to be understood only about this notion, and indeed about civil morals, not about the knowledge of God, nor about the will, or any appetite. But the words of Aristotle signify this (speaking only of knowledge): "Reason correctly exhorts to the best." (ho rthos gar logos epi ta beltista parakalei). For when he says "right reason," he certainly means true notion, or judgment. And "to exhort" is the word of one warning; it does not pertain to the will, or the appetite, or the affection. Add to this, that we may grant some honorable affections exist in some, these only impel to civil duties. Certainly the fear of God, and faith toward God, do not exist naturally in human minds. Human mind always prefers to trust in present things rather than in the mercy and promises of God. It always hates the judgment of God, and prefers not to undergo the danger of judgment.

Therefore, Aristotle spoke correctly, if he is understood to be speaking of civil morals; for concerning these, reason prescribes to us rightly, even if nature in such great weakness does not actively obey. Let us imagine the same words spoken by a legislator in a republic, commanding what is best for the citizens. Caesar could truly preach this in his laws, for there are civil duties worthy of praise, and indeed God demands them from all, as I have often said. But it does not follow that such morals absolve Christian righteousness. Nor did Caesar think this when he made laws.

Thus, therefore, reason prescribes the best concerning civil duties, while meanwhile it determines nothing about the will of God, but rather hallucinates about it, as scripture teaches when it says, "Every man is a liar." For it signifies that no one feels rightly about God, no one fears God, or trusts in God.

But from the sentence of Paul, "the wisdom of the flesh is death," it seems to follow either that no good notion exists in nature, or that those notions—"you shall not steal," "you shall not kill," and similar laws of nature—are evil. If anyone reasons in this way: the wisdom of the flesh is death, Philosophy or the knowledge of morals (that one must not steal, etc.) is the wisdom of the flesh, therefore it is death. I answer this whole argument must be conceded. For natural judgment lacks the true knowledge of God, and those honorable works which reason effects by itself are done with an impure heart, which ignores God, does not fear God, does not trust God, but trusts in present things. Therefore, they do not give life to us, nor sustain us when we are judged by God; that natural judgment or civil duties are empty of the fear of God and faith toward God, and are truly sins.

Therefore, civil duties are unclean. And yet God demands that they be performed. For the wicked must be coerced. And indeed the duties are good because God demands them, but because they are done by the impure, they are contaminated by contagion. They do not correctly understand Paul who think "wisdom of the flesh" only signifies those desires which reason also disapproves of, such as lusts, avarice, ambition. Paul is not speaking of the imprudence of man, but of prudence; he says this lacks the knowledge of God, the fear of God, and faith toward God.

Into the Second Book

Phil. Melanchthon's Commentary.

Since mention of happiness was made in the first book concerning virtue, the subject itself demanded that the nature of virtue and its parts be subsequently discussed. Therefore, in this second book, virtue is defined, its causes are sought, and its species are enumerated. No other book is more useful to learners than this one.

I have often advised what utility the books of Aristotle bring. For since all matters in speaking and judging are referred to the commonplaces of virtues and vices, it is fitting to touch upon those places not only in passing, but to look into them deeply, so that we may carry their perfect forms enclosed in our mind, that they may immediately present themselves to us when needed. And no one is ignorant that there is a need for precepts concerning morals.

Some, however, think they hold the precepts when they have rashly gathered a few maxims excerpted from authors. But they have no perfect and solid doctrine of morals. It is necessary to know the fountains and causes of the precepts, and how far the region of these extends. For there is a certain art of morals, which has precepts and causes of the precepts posited in nature, just as Arithmetic and other arts have certain precepts and causes of precepts. Nor will anyone be able to judge rightly concerning duties in this common life, or concerning laws, who does not apply a perfect notion of the art to those common sentences which are excerpted.

There are many other causes which ought to invite students. It is a certain pleasure to see how the precepts of morals are written in nature. And since they are apprehended in us, to understand that they are the creatures and mandates of God, and that this doctrine is divinely revealed. Therefore, it is to be highly valued, and numbered among the most excellent works of God.

It is also useful to see how far nature can progress by certain demonstration in judging morals, lest we ineptly mix Christian doctrine and Philosophy. For he who knows both will better understand the difference between Christian doctrine and Philosophy. For Christian doctrine prescribes concerning the will of God, concerning fear, concerning faith toward God, in such a way that it neither overthrows the state (politeian) nor household management (oikonomian), but rather establishes them most firmly. But Philosophy pertains to politics and civil or external actions of life, which Christ approves. But lest the preface be longer than is just, I return to Aristotle.

In the beginning, he seeks the cause of virtue: whether it is born with us, or happens to us in another way. For there was a great controversy among the learned about this matter. Some minds are so wild that they cannot be cured by any art. Therefore, some contended that virtue cannot be acquired by our industry. On the contrary, others saw cultivation profit in some, and therefore felt that our industry could acquire virtue.

This old controversy is judged here, and the causes of virtue are briefly shown. The causes are: the judgment of reason, and the will following that judgment, and moving toward acting rightly. Frequent actions produce a habit; this is called virtue. Therefore, virtue is not born with us, but is effected from right actions; actions, however, are in some way in our power, so in some way it is in our power to acquire virtue. Aristotle's comparison contributes much to clarity. For he teaches that virtue is compared to our actions just as arts are compared. A painter is made by frequently painting, a smith by frequently fabricating, a poet by frequently writing verses. Thus Aristotle thinks virtue is effected if someone accustoms himself to acting rightly.

But nevertheless, just as no one becomes a good poet without a singular natural gift, so that perfect virtue may be made, there ought to exist in minds certain singular natural motions. Aristotle calls these natural virtues (physikas aretas); these are also required for perfect virtue, but these are not similar in all, just as not all are suited to poetics, therefore not all attain perfect virtue. Just as few turn out to be good poets, and yet there is no one who cannot at least learn enough to make some sort of verses, so there is no one who cannot effect at least, so to speak, images of virtue.

Let this be enough said about the causes of virtue. It would be useful to compare here the things handed down in sacred texts about the causes of virtues. But let it be enough to have advised that Christian doctrine commands honorable actions to be done even by the impious, according to that saying, "The Law is a pedagogue," etc. And actions produce certain habits, as we see those well-instituted and educated to be more tractable. For certain habits of morals are formed naturally in us, just as arts are, and Christian doctrine does not take this away from nature. Therefore, it does not disapprove of these things which are handed down about the causes of virtue by Aristotle, just as it does not disapprove of the laws of states.

But meanwhile, it teaches that these virtues are not righteousness before God, but are vicious. It also teaches that some other virtues are effected by the Holy Spirit in minds. For they naturally perform honorable actions, but out of fear of punishment. Likewise, out of trust in human powers. Likewise, without the Fear of God, without faith toward God, etc. Therefore, actions are contaminated which are otherwise honorable. But of these, elsewhere.

But so that Aristotle may clearly show how virtues are effected, he compares them with the arts. For it can be more easily understood that arts are certain habits, than that virtue is a habit. Thus he says: Just as arts are generated in us, so virtues are generated. But arts arise from experiments, that is, from actions; so it is logical that virtue is born from actions.

He therefore teaches that habits are twofold. Some are of the intellect, such as the art of mechanics, prudence, knowledge of morals, and scientific knowledge of speculative things. Others are habits, as they themselves call them, moral: virtue and vice. These are said to belong properly to the will.

In passing, he warns that potentialities are twofold. Some cannot be habituated, like the vegetative; these are called irrational. Others can be habituated; these are called rational, or obeying reason. He also briefly disputes that virtues are concerned with pleasures and pains, about which matter he will speak again below. He also urges toward practice, which not only is conducive to acquiring virtue, but also profits us so that we can better judge the precepts. For this art is concerned with singular things, namely with actions. Therefore, not everything can be comprehended by certain demonstration, as in some other arts. Often circumstances effect that we must depart from common precepts in some way. He will teach this usage. Therefore he says: Every account of matters of action must be stated in outline and not with exactness (pas ho peri tōn praktōn logos typōi kai ouk akribōs opheilei legesthai).

Since he sought the efficient cause of virtue, now he seeks the genus of virtue, by enumerating those things which usually exist and remain in the soul. And initially he proposes the members of the partition. There are three things in the soul: affection, potentiality, habit. This partition is highly conducive to remembering, especially because the nature of the affections is partly opened here. An affection is either a brief motion or a durable motion, pursuing those things which seem good, or fleeing and driving away those things which seem evil. And affections have organs in nature, such as the heart, and other members, which are agitated by the affections like winds. Just as the skin, when struck, is wounded, so the heart is moved when something commodious or incommodious is presented; when the object is offered, the heart, fleeing, draws the blood to itself, and therefore the extremities grow pale. When the mind is angry, bile boils over, and the blood around the heart is inflamed.

Thus individual affections have causes and instruments in nature, and they are certain natural motions, which are excited when sense or reason establishes an object to be commodious or incommodious. These motions are subservient to that cognition and are excited by it. But Aristotle teaches that virtue is not an affection, because affections are innate, virtue is not innate. Likewise, no one is praised for affections, but we are praised for virtue.

There is, however, a great dissension about the affections between the Stoics and Aristotle. For the Stoics disapprove of all affections; Aristotle, because he cannot disapprove of nature, does not disapprove of affections. For he sees that they are born with us. He feels, therefore, that certain affections are benefits of nature, because they are instruments of acting, or spurs stimulating us to act. If we were not moved by the fear of death, we would not seek food. If we were not angry, we would not defend our life, and those committed to us.

Many have marvelously approved the sentence of the Stoics, I believe moved by its novelty, and Augustine is also among them. But there are many reasons which show it to be completely abhorrent to nature. For nature cannot exist without appetite. For just as hunger and thirst cannot be removed from nature, so the reasoning of the Stoics is ridiculous, who try to pluck affections out of nature. But we will indicate in a few words what a Christian should feel.

There are twofold affections in man. Some completely disagree with reason, such as ambition, envy, and the like. That these are vicious is not doubtful. But they arise from original sin, which causes us to seek or desire nothing except for the sake of our own utility or pleasure. Other affections agree with reason, such as the love of parents toward children, of children toward parents, among spouses, love toward the well-deserving, and friends. These affections are called storgai (natural affections). They do not arise from original sin, but are creatures of God, just as eyes and ears are. Therefore, Paul also argues against those without natural affection (astorgous, Rom. 1). And when he says: "If anyone does not provide for his own, he is worse than an unbeliever," just as Medea cast off natural benevolence when she tore apart her brother.

But now, since affections cling to corrupt nature, otherwise good and consenting to reason, they themselves are contaminated. Likewise, natural benevolence of parents toward children is blamed because it is without the love of God. Therefore, these natural affections have this vice: both that they are without the love of God, and without the fear of God, and that they are overcome by the love of our utility or pleasure, as can be seen in Medea, and yet they are the cradles of civil virtues, especially since they are sharper. If the love of a daughter, which nourished a father condemned to starvation in prison with her own breasts, such impulses are truly singular gifts of God.

Furthermore, the Stoic sentence by no means agrees with the Gospel, as some inept people think. For the Holy Spirit does not free us from affections, but implants new affections. For so it is written: "The Spirit lusts against the flesh." He suppresses evil affections and those repugnant to the law or reason, and renders the natural affections purer, and effects sharper ones. In addition, He produces new affections: trust in God, fear of God.

Finally, Christian virtues are truly affections themselves, implanted by the Holy Spirit, just as Paul teaches when he calls them the fruits of the Spirit. But civil virtues are not affections, but habits, which rule and moderate natural affections, even if sometimes the habit receives strength from the affection. For the habit is firmer, which has similar affections in nature, just as a rider more easily rules a horse that is not resisting. Therefore, all discipline was instituted, laws were established, so that we might accustom ourselves to commanding the affections. That custom produces a habit. Therefore, from the variety of affections, the distribution of virtues is taken, because all virtues are handed down so that they may govern the affections.

Thus far we have spoken of the nature of the affections, and shown that civil virtues are not properly affections. For the affection precedes reason, virtue does not precede it. That they are not potentialities can be most easily understood because potentialities are born with us, but virtues are not born with us, just as arts are not. What remains, therefore, by sufficient enumeration, is that we establish virtues to be habits.

Chapter VI: On Arithmetic and Geometric Proportion

In the method, the parts of the definition are gathered in order. The genus having been found above, namely habit, now the difference is sought. But differences are mostly taken from the objects and duties. Thus it happens here, because all virtues are concerned either with affections, or with contracts, and moderate them; therefore he establishes the difference here to be observing the mean (mediocritas), both in affections and in contracting. Now therefore the definition is largely discovered: Virtue is a habit which preserves the mean, both in affections and in contracting. Such as moderating anger, fear, is fortitude; moderating the desire for pleasures is modesty and temperance.

Many praises of the mean exist in poets and other writers. For thus erudite and prudent men have always judged, that virtue is a certain mean or moderation in words and deeds, which governs the motions of the mind, desires, all counsels, and finally the entire custom of life. Therefore that saying in the Comedy is praised: "Nothing in excess" (Ne quid nimis), and the verse pleases: "There is a measure in all things. There are, finally, certain boundaries, beyond and short of which right cannot stand."

But what is the point of adducing many testimonies, since they are readily available to all? I have cited one or two to show that Aristotle took the definition from a certain common sentence of prudent men. And it can be better understood how this definition is to be used in common life when it is compared to the sentences of others. Just as that voice, "Nothing in excess," warns us to preserve the mean in all things, so this definition of Aristotle prescribes that we should moderate anger, or other desires, and observe what is fitting in individual places and times. Great praise is owed to Peripatetic judgment, that all virtues are referred to the mean, because without it, nothing is fitting.

And although good things also love a certain measure: too sweet things disgust the senses; ears reject too much ornament in a speech. Too much severity is odious; too much leniency and ease is ungrateful. In a speech, jokes delight, but if measure is lacking, it will be petulance or scurrility. Therefore, whatever is without measure has no grace. Just as it is fitting to remember this in every kind of life, so especially those who govern republics ought to moderate their anger and other desires. Julius Caesar is praised because in victory he moderated his anger and his grief. That matter has far greater praise for fortitude than the victory itself. Sulla is blamed because he was proud and cruel in victory. Therefore Maximilian is rightly preached about, who, although he was most moderate in all of life, held this word "Halt mas" [Keep measure] in such delight that he used it as his symbol. For princes used to write, as their symbols, certain maxims, one about one thing, another about another, just as Augustus wrote "Speude bradeōs" (Make haste slowly), which voice also exhorts to preserving the mean.

But I return to Aristotle. He warns that the mean in virtues should not be understood too exactly, but, to speak in the manner of jurists, eu platē (broadly). He himself says thus: the mean is to be taken relative to us, not according to the object itself, that is, according to the variety of times, it seems to us to be fitting. Nor is the mean of all actions always the same. In giving alms, a wealthy man will bestow more than a poor man. In punishing, a judge will not always use similar leniency or severity, but will take different counsels according to the variety of persons and times.

Aristotle, to declare this matter, borrowed a certain similarity from Arithmetics, which, rightly understood, brings great light to this cause. Plato and Aristotle often take similarities from Arithmetic and Geometry, because those arts in those times were taught to all freeborn boys. There was no one who had learned to draw the shapes of letters who had not also perceived the elements of those arts. Therefore, since they were familiarly known to all, from early childhood, similarities taken from them marvelously illuminated otherwise obscure causes.

Since virtue operates between two vicious extremes, which they call defect and excess, the mean must always be sought between that which is too little and that which is too much. Thus fortitude operates between timidity and audacity. Liberality operates between avarice or meanness, and prodigality. Between these, Aristotle says the mean is to be taken, not according to the object, but according to us. He calls the mean according to the object that which is equidistant from the extremes on all sides, as the center is equidistant from the circumference. He calls the mean relative to us that which sometimes approaches closer to one of the extremes, which a prudent man judges should sometimes be taken differently. A judge will not use equal severity everywhere; sometimes he will have to approach severity closer, sometimes he will seem more remiss, according to the variety of times and circumstances.

And because Aristotle says that the mean according to the object is taken in Arithmetical proportion, we must expound what Arithmetical proportion is, and how much this passage requires. For this matter extends very broadly, if anyone wishes to explain it entirely.

Proportion is the collation or comparison of two quantities, as 4 to 2 is called a double proportion. From this arises the comparison of several proportions among themselves, when we compare not only two, but several quantities among themselves. This is commonly called "proportionality" by a new word. For the ancients named the comparison of proportions, or ratios, analogia. Aristotle only uses the name analogia, which signifies proportion. Arithmetical proportion is when three terms are posited such that the middle one exceeds the first by equal numbers, and is exceeded by the last. For thus he accommodates it in this place: 2, 4, 6. The middle number exceeds the first by two, and is surpassed by the last by two; therefore, it is equidistant from both, just as a center is equidistant from the circumference on all sides.

Aristotle denies that the mean is to be taken in this way in virtue, between too much and too little. For just as if a Doctor erred in prescribing a diet, and thought 10 was too much, 2 too little, and took 6. This number might not fit here, even if it is the mean in Arithmetical proportion. For in virtues, the mean often approaches closer to one extreme, just as the fortitude of Fabius approaches closer to timidity, and the fortitude of Marius fighting with the Cimbri approaches closer to audacity. If we followed Arithmetical proportion, it would be fitting for Irus and Croesus to give the exact same amount, because nothing is required here except that the middle number be equidistant from both by equal numbers, no matter the dissimilarity of Irus and Croesus; this belongs to Arithmetical proportion. For this only demands that the terms be distant by equal numbers. If gold and silver were to be divided in Arithmetical proportion, no comparison of the things would be made, but gold and silver would be distributed by equal weight. Paul says there ought to be an equality of goods among Christians. If this were understood by Arithmetical proportion, a prince would not be allowed to possess more than a plebeian. Therefore, Arithmetical proportion is repudiated here, because the mean in virtue is taken differently at different times.

How then can the mean be detected in such great variety? Aristotle throws the judgment of this matter to common sense. Just as all craftsmen strive to guard a certain mean between too much and too little (as painters in painting the forms of bodies, orators in adorning a speech), so in morals a prudent man notices what is fitting between too much and too little. For thus he says, hē physis stochastikē (nature aims at the mark)—nature itself detects the mean.

But this mean is estimated by Geometric proportion. Geometric proportion is when the terms are not separated by equal numbers, but are compared by equal proportions, as 8 is to 4, so 6 is to 3; for both proportions are double. Thus proportion is used in prescribing a diet. Just as 1 pound of meat is to be given to a healthy person whose stomach digests much, so half a pound is fitting to be given to a sick person. Here there are not many or few things given equally to diverse persons. In this way, since virtue operates between defect and excess, we must not understand a similar defect or excess in individuals. In general, reason notices a certain mean between defect and excess. But it varies this according to proportion regarding defect and excess, and approaches closer either to defect or to excess.

Just as the faculties of Croesus relate to the faculties of Irus, so the proportion occurs in giving. Therefore, if the faculties of Croesus are 9, Irus 3, Croesus will give 3, Irus will give 1. The fortitude of Marius fighting with the Cimbri approaches closer to audacity; the fortitude of Fabius avoiding battle with Hannibal approaches closer to timidity. And yet both held the mean, and both acted bravely and excellently. Following proportion: Just as the opportunities and causes for fighting relate to Marius, so the opportunities for delaying relate to Fabius, and thus each preserves the mean. First, Marius saw that it was necessary to fight. Because the Cimbri had struck such terror into the whole of Italy that if he proceeded, no one would stand in their way anywhere. And already the unencumbered barbarians had decreed to advance. He also knew the nature of the battle. The barbarians rushed into battle with great force, but they soon grew languid if the enemy did not immediately yield, and in addition they kept no ranks. Since Marius therefore had a necessary cause for fighting, and had noticed the rationale for governing the danger, he bravely joined battle, even if the counsel approached closer to audacity, because the battle was extremely dangerous with such a multitude and with a most ferocious people.

Conversely, Fabius weighed that three armies of the Roman people had been lost, that there were no remaining soldiers at home who could defend the republic if any disaster were received; that Hannibal was not only bold from his successful affairs, but his forces had also grown with the accession of the Campanians. Add to this that he knew he would be fighting with an enemy whose counsel added to their strength, and to this he saw that he could gradually be broken in foreign territory, with supplies cut off. In this way, the war was drawn out. Finally, he had many causes why he should not engage. Therefore, he acted bravely, even if his counsel seems to have been more timid. Nor can he be blamed, because he did not throw down his arms as the timid usually do, he never departed from the enemy, but followed him with singular greatness of mind, besieged him, and seized the opportunity to tear at the hostile army without danger.

In this way, the mean in virtues is taken according to proportion. Just as, although in general a certain mean is prescribed in diet, nevertheless a doctor treats the healthy differently than the sick. Arithmetical proportion only considers equal spaces of numbers. Geometric corrects that space, according to the proportion of persons.

On the Definition of Virtue

In the books of De Officiis, Marcus Cicero defined virtue in this way: Virtue is a habit which inclines to action according to right reason. I used this definition more, because I thought it was easier for beginners to understand, especially those who had not read Aristotle. And yet it does not disagree with Aristotle's definition, if anyone examines it diligently. For the causes of honorable actions are the judgment of reason (which shows what is fitting in morals) and the will obeying the judgment. But Aristotle's definition is somewhat longer. I only touched upon the duty of virtue in that brief definition. Aristotle also encompassed the mode of the duty (the object), because he added that virtue is a habit of such a kind that affects the motions of the mind to bend toward the mean.

But before we explain Aristotle's definition, the reader must be warned to observe the method. For even if there were no other cause why we should love this book, it nevertheless ought to be read and proposed to young people because it contains an example of a just method, which they will be able to imitate in other arguments and in other arts. For in the explanation of all things and causes, it is necessary to hold to a method. Just as sailors direct their course by certain stars, so in teaching, speech must be directed to those precepts which are handed down in Dialectics concerning method.

I have often said that no one was a better architect of method than Aristotle. See how he approached the definition of virtue, as if by certain steps. And the preceding things almost contain the causes or fountains of the following things, or certainly provide a better approach to the following things. At the beginning of the second book, he sought the efficient causes of virtue; then he disputed about the genus, whether virtue is a habit or an affection. Then, having found the genus, he sought the difference. He took this from the duty or the objects, namely that it is such a habit which compels us to preserve a certain mean in actions and affections.

Now, having gathered the members of the definition little by little, he recites the whole definition in these words: Virtue is an elective habit, consisting in a mean relative to us, determined by reason, as a prudent man would judge.

There is no need to repeat what he calls a habit, or why habit is the genus of virtue; the other particles (whose collection is put in place of the difference) must be examined. When he adds "elective" (electivus, Gr. proairetikē), the phrase is Greek, and this particle alone renders the definition obscure, because it is alien to the custom of Latin speech. But "elective" signifies the same as "election," that is, done with counsel, or with certain judgment or certain deliberation, not by chance, not by nature willing or undertaking the action. For as among the Latins those things are said to be done "with counsel" which do not happen naturally, nor by chance, but with certain counsel, by certain reason or deliberation; so Aristotle uses proairesis for the certain deliberation to will something. In the third book he diligently disputes about the nature of this word, where he establishes proairesis to be an action of the will, but such a one that is undertaken with certain judgment, with certain counsel. For it is fitting that such be the virtue which inclines to action with judgment, which follows right reason, and which reason moderates according to the place and time.

Cato's constancy is not a virtue, but a certain natural hardness and stubbornness. Therefore he retains it even when it is not fitting. True constancy has proairesis, that is, free choice, which is done by judgment, and acts differently elsewhere, according to the variety of circumstances. Cicero's constancy in the civil war is more to be praised than Cato's. Cicero, although he had constantly followed the more honorable party, departed from arms after he saw from the public utility that the vanquished would yield to the victor. Cato, out of stubbornness, renewed the war, when his forces could in no way be equal to the enemy. Furthermore, fools often do something good by chance. But because they do it without judgment, it is alien to the praise of virtue, and they are immediately dissimilar to themselves. For those things which do not rely on certain reason are not long-lasting. But of this whole topic, what electio or proairesis is, will be disputed more copiously in the third book, even if I seem to me to have said enough about it already. Nor will a prudent reader, as I suppose, require more.

The remaining particles of the definition are expounded above: that virtue consists in a mean relative to us. For Aristotle places individual virtues between two vicious extremes, as fortitude operates between timidity and audacity.

When he adds that virtue is ruled by "certain reason," the cause of virtue is posited. Furthermore, certain reason is taken either from the law of nature, or from probable reasons which do not dissent from the law of nature. For the laws of nature are the fountains of all deliberations concerning morals. And because they are perpetual, they are certain things to be judged, which agree with them.

And the judgment of this matter is nevertheless thrown back to a prudent man, who, according to the variety of circumstances, sees where the mean ought to be established. For just as it is not easy to hit the target in throwing, so neither is it easy to apprehend the mean in deliberating. Whichever way you stray, you will sin. For one can depart from the right in many ways; the right is circumscribed within a certain narrow boundary. Therefore the Pythagoreans said that evil is infinite, but good is finite. Just as they also say the magistrate is the soul of the laws, and he ought to either mitigate or exacerbate them according to the variety of times, so Aristotle in this definition does not indicate the mean as a certain point, but permits a prudent man to establish the mean by his own judgment.

Finally, the reader must be warned again to compare Aristotle's definition with ours, which we almost have in our mouths: Virtue is that which acts according to right reason. For he will see that Aristotle also made mention of right reason, he only added the mode of the duty of preserving the mean; which we dissimulate, especially because of those to whom Aristotle is unknown.

Division of Virtues

Aristotle does not number Prudence among the virtues, because it is judgment, which is not absent even in evil men. And here only those virtues are called virtues which properly pertain to the will. They are placed individually between defect and excess, and are recounted in this order.

Timidity : Fortitude : Audacity.

Insensibility : Temperance : Intemperance. (Here the defect does not have a customary name, because it rarely happens to sin in that direction).

Meanness (Sordidness) : Liberality : Prodigality.

Pettiness (Mikroprepeia) : Magnificence : Vulgarity/Ostentation. (Or Banausia, for Bavanausos signifies a manual laborer, and metaphorically, an uncultivated and boastful man, and a lover of luxury, such as Marc Antony was).

Pusillanimity (Humble mind) : Magnanimity : Vanity/Pride.

Lack of Ambition : Proper Ambition : Over-Ambition.

Sluggish mind (Lentus) : Mildness/Gentleness : Irascibility.

Self-deprecation (Dissimulatio) : Truthfulness : Boastfulness (Vanitas).

Boorishness (Insulsitas) : Wittiness (Urbanity) : Scurrility. (Scurrility in Greek is bōmolochia. For bōmolochos signifies a scurra. It is a noun made from bōmos (altar) and lochaō (to lie in wait), because they sought food or something else near the altars during sacrifices. And thus properly it was the singers or ridiculous jesters who were admitted to the feasts, so that they might delight those who had gathered for the sacrifice. Just as also in Germany at solemn sacrifices and markets, actors flock together. And because they sought alms from those sacrificing, they were thus called. From thence it was generally usurped as a vocabulary for buffoons).

Surly/Quarrelsome : Friendliness : Flattery (Assentatio).

Ingratitude : Gratitude : [No clear excess named in text]

Stupidity/Shamelessness : Modesty (Verecundia) : Bashfulness.

(They call Nemesis a virtue, which is pained by the prosperity of the wicked, especially when they become insolent and proud from the indulgence of fortune, just as sometimes the holy ones in Scripture are indignant that it goes well for the wicked. But we have spoken of this motion of the mind elsewhere).

If Aristotle is understood civilly, it is fitting for Nemesis to be in magistrates, who ought not to be too slow in punishing the wicked.

Under the name of Justice, Injustice comes all vices fighting against justice, such as Fraud, Violence, Cruelty, Negligence.

Thus the virtues are numbered by Aristotle. Cicero in De Officiis draws them together into fewer genera. Under beneficence he encompasses liberality and magnificence, one of which Aristotle attributes to private citizens, the other to princes; to modesty, he attributes reverence, urbanity, gentleness. And because ambition fights with modesty, here too he disputes about the desire for honors. The prudent reader will observe in this way to which genus they are to be referred in Cicero.

Nor are the species of virtues made without reason. And Aristotle, by a long enumeration of the things around which human actions operate, collects the number of virtues. I will explain this topic in popular words, and follow the genera which exist in Cicero, and show from what fountains they arise, which can be understood from the subject itself, why learned men numbered more virtues. It is established that man was created for civil society; to this end most actions of men look. Therefore, Justice fortifies civil society, because it punishes the wicked, defends the good, and rules contracts. Nor can judgments be exercised, nor contracts established, nor any pact without variety. Therefore, Fortitude is also rightly numbered among the virtues. It accompanies justice, because it drives away robbery and force. Beneficence or liberality pertains here, for civil society cannot be retained unless a certain mutual exchange of even gratuitous duties exists. Gratitude follows this, which all naturally understand they owe for a benefit received. Friendship pertains to this order, which is to be understood as a certain mutual goodwill among certain people, and the communication of duties, which is necessary in this life, just as magistrates or other civil affairs are. In the Gospel, charity is something else, for it must be shown even if it is not mutual. Friendship is a civil thing, namely a domestic and familiar conjunction, which cannot exist with many.

There is also Piety, necessary for retaining the society of the human race, either of parents toward children, or of children toward parents and all those who are to be honored nearby, such as parents. The remaining virtues operate around private life, and moderate desires: modesty coerces lusts, temperance accustoms us to use food and drink in such a way that we do not harm nature. Thus the number of virtues is taken partly from actions by which the common society of men is held together, partly from private duties which are necessary for the conservation of nature. Nor are these to be received in such a way that virtue is cultivated for the sake of utility. But we have used this distribution, pachyterōs (roughly speaking), as they say, collecting the number of virtues from the affections, so that truth is not only to be cultivated because it is necessary in judgments and contracts, but much more because nature commands it, because this law is written in the minds of all men, that they should cultivate truth.

On Chapter VIII

At the end of this book, he handed down a general precept in the most elegant words. Since it is difficult to hit the mean, effort must be given so that we at least do not stray far from the mean, and since we cannot achieve the optimum, we should at least hold to those things which have the minimum of vice. He uses these words: "Since it is extremely difficult to hit the mean, we must take the second sailing, as they say, and choose the least of the evils." (epei oun tou mesou tychein akrōs chalepon, kata ton deuteron, phasin, ploun, ta elachista lēpteon tōn kakōn).

He says "the second sailing" as if to say: It was to be desired that favorable winds would carry us to the mean, but because this scarcely ever happens, the other sailing is not to be omitted—that is, when destitute of winds, we impel the ship with oars, so that we may still strive for the mean according to our powers. As if someone were to say: "If a happier genius had happened to me, I would have progressed without great labor. But because a mediocre one happened, what is lacking in nature must be made up by assiduity, and that is like a second sailing." For deuteros plous (the second sailing) is said when someone fails to get a favorable wind and sails with oars. For so Suidas writes.

We have narrated thus far the principal passages of these books. The first contains a most weighty disputation about the end of man. The second the definition of virtue; furthermore, we spoke in passing here about the affections. And if anyone diligently comes to know these as the elements of moral philosophy, even if he gathers no other fruit from here, he will certainly better understand most of Cicero's writings, which, since they flowed from these fountains, are not sufficiently understood by those who are entirely ignorant of philosophy. If I feel this labor is pleasing to the studious, I will add the remaining books at my leisure. Meanwhile, if any are nonetheless delighted by this study, when they have come to know these beginnings of moral philosophy from Aristotle, as for the rest, let them take it from Cicero.

For it remains that the individual virtues be defined, and precepts handed down for each one. Cicero performed this in De Officiis. And meanwhile, when these things are read, it must often be thought that all true and certain precepts, all certain definitions of virtues, are laws of nature, and therefore divine. For the sentence of the Jurists is true: "The law of nature is divine."

For these disputations only show how these laws are divinely written in nature. The reader should also remember that Philosophy pertains to civil life. Things are treated far differently in the Gospel, lest anyone mix the Gospel and Philosophy, as I see most have done, who dreamed that the Gospel is nothing other than certain precepts concerning morals. How much evil there is in this persuasion, no one can adequately say! Therefore, I warn so often that the Gospel must be prudently discerned from philosophy. The righteousness of faith is an arcane matter, placed far above the sight of reason, by which we establish that for Christ's sake we have a placated Father, by which we recognize God, and trust that we are defended and saved by Him. The Gospel teaches this, what we ought to feel about God.

Meanwhile, it commits the judgment of civil morals to human reason. Just as it commits to us the care of health, and similar corporeal matters. But among all the arts which human reason has apprehended, none is more excellent than this doctrine concerning the causes of virtues, and civil duties. From these laws of the republic, from this, all humanity, which is properly so called, arose and was propagated. Therefore, those in this time who despise these arts, which are contained under the appellation of humanity, are not lightly to be reprehended, while they profess studies, they neglect these disputations concerning virtue, when most other arts are derived from these, or certainly adorned by them.

How much eloquence does one take from here, how much does the jurist? Therefore, I wished young students to taste this doctrine, nor did I take up this labor of narrating for any other reason than that I might either help the studies of others, or at least move them.

I did not wish to frighten away delicate readers with immoderate commentaries from the reading of Aristotle; therefore, we selected the principal passages of the author, and expounded them in popular words as much as was allowed by this brevity, purposely passing over many things which a diligent reader will easily pursue without an interpreter.

THE END.