Morgan, Classics of Moral and Political Theory, fifth edition

“Virtue,” according to the meaning of the word, designates what completes a power. That is why virtue is also called strength, since a thing achieves its impulse or movement through the power it has that has been made complete. For “virtue,” as the word implies, refers to a power’s perfection. Accordingly, the Philosopher says in On the Heavens 1.11 (281a15) that virtue is the utmost extent of power in a thing. However, power is said to be directed to activity. Therefore, we see what completes a power when the power engages in its perfect operation. Furthermore, because whatever operates has its operation as its end (since everything, according to the Philosopher in On the Heavens 2.3 (286a8), is for the sake of its operation as its proximate end), each thing is good to the extent that it is fully directed to its end. That is why virtue makes its possessors good and their activity good too, as Ethics 2.6 (1106a15–17) states. What is more, this line of argument also makes it clear that virtue is the disposition of what has been perfected to what is best, as stated in Physics 7.3 (246b23).

All these accounts apply to the virtue of anything whatsoever: A horse’s virtue is what makes it and its activity good—and the same is true for the virtue of a stone, or a human being, or anything else.

However, the manner in which a power is completed varies in keeping with which of various characters it has; for one sort of power only acts, another is only acted on and moved, and a third sort acts and is acted on.

Accordingly, a power that only acts does not need anything introduced into it to be the source of its acts. That is why the virtue of such a power is just the power itself. Examples of this sort of power include the divine power, the agent intellect, and natural powers. Hence, the virtues of these powers are not habits of any kind, but these very powers, which are complete in themselves.

On the other hand, those powers that are only acted upon are powers that do not act unless they are moved by others. Their acting or not acting is not up to them; instead, they act through the impulse of the power moving them. The sensory powers, considered in themselves, are of this kind, which is why the Philosopher says in Ethics 6.2 (1139a19) that they are not the source of any acts. These powers are perfected for performing their acts by the introduction of something else—something that is in them not in the persistent way forms are in their subjects, but merely in the way an undergoing is. (The image in the eyes’ pupil is an example of this.) For this reason, the virtues of these powers are not habits either. Instead, they are the powers themselves insofar as they have actually been acted on by their corresponding active causes.

The powers that both act and are acted upon are those that are moved by what acts on them in such a way that their movers do not determine them to a single course. Instead, their acting or not acting is up to them. To this group belong powers that are rational in some way. These powers are rendered complete for acting by the introduction of something that is in them not merely the way an undergoing is, but the way a form is that is stable and persists in its subject. Even so, the result is not that these forms necessarily compel the power to one course, because if they did, the power would not be in control of its acts. The virtues of these powers are neither the powers themselves, nor undergoings (as with the sensory powers), nor qualities that act necessarily, like the affective qualities of natural things. Instead, they are habits, through which one can act when one wills to, as the Commentator says in On the Soul 3.18. Moreover, Augustine says in On the Good of Marriage 21 that a habit is that by which one acts when the need arises.

So, it is clear from these remarks that the virtues are habits, and it is also clear how habits differ from the second and third species of quality. It is readily apparent how they differ from the fourth species, shape: Shape, as such, does not imply a directedness to act.

On the basis of these remarks, we can also show that we need virtuous habits for three reasons.

First, for steadfastness in our operation. After all, what depends on the operation alone changes easily if it has not been stabilized by a habitual inclination.

Second, we need them to perform a perfect operation readily. That is because, unless a habit in some way inclines the rational power to one course, then whenever we have to perform an operation, we must always first make an inquiry about what to do. We have a clear example of this in the case of someone who has not yet acquired the relevant habit of knowledge but wants to reflect, and in the case of someone who lacks the relevant habit of virtue but wants to act as virtue demands. For this reason, the Philosopher says in Ethics 3.8 (1117a22) that our unanticipated actions are done from habit.

Third, we need virtuous habits to bring our perfect activity to fulfillment pleasurably. Habit is responsible for this. Because it has the mode of a nature, it makes the activity proper to it connatural, so to speak, and therefore pleasurable, since appropriateness causes pleasure. Accordingly, the Philosopher holds that pleasure in what one does is a sign of one’s habit (Ethics 2.3, 1104b3–5).

Augustine’s definition: “Virtue is a good quality of the mind, by which one lives rightly, which no one uses badly, which God works in us without us.”²

This formulation captures the definition of virtue, and if we leave out the last clause, it applies to every human virtue.

As said (a. 1 reply), virtue perfects a power as regards its perfect act. So, because a perfect act is the end of the power or the agent, virtue makes both the power and the agent good, as noted earlier (a. 1 reply). Accordingly, the definition of virtue includes something about the act’s perfection, and something about the perfection of the power or agent.

Two things are required for an act’s perfection. First, the act must be right. Second, the habit from which it springs must be incapable of being the source of a contrary act. After all, a source of both good and bad acts cannot, of its own nature, be a perfect source of a good act. That is because a power’s perfection must be the source of a good act in such a way that it cannot be the source of a bad one in any way. That is why the Philosopher says in Ethics 6.3 (1139b14–18) that opinion is not a virtue, whereas knowledge is: Opinion can be true or false, but we have knowledge only of what is true. The first requirement for a perfect act is designated by the clause “by which one lives rightly,” and the second by the clause “which no one uses badly.”

Virtue also makes its subject good. In this connection, we must consider three things: (a) The subject itself is specified by the expression “of the mind,” since human virtue can be only in what belongs to a human being as such. (b) The intellect’s perfection is designated by the word “good,” since something is called good because of its directedness to its end. (c) Finally, “quality” designates the way it inheres in its subject, because virtues are not in their subject the way undergoings are but the way habits are, as pointed out above (a. 1 reply).

All these elements apply to moral, intellectual, and theological virtues, regardless of whether the virtues are acquired or infused. But the clause Augustine adds to these—“which God works in us without us”—applies only to infused virtues.

a. As its sustainer. That is because an accident does not subsist through itself; rather, its subject sustains it.

b. As a potentiality to an actuality. That is because a subject underlies an accident as a potentiality for its actuality (and that explains why an accident is called a form).

c. As a cause to its effect. That is because the principles of a subject are essential principles of its accident.

One accident cannot be the subject of another in the first way. The reason is that no accident subsists through itself, and so no accident can serve as another’s sustainer (unless we were to say that one accident is another’s sustainer insofar as it is sustained by its subject).

However, in the second and third ways, one accident can be related to another in the manner of a subject. After all, there are accidents that are in potentiality to others: Transparency is in potentiality to light, and a surface is in potentiality to color. Moreover, one accident can be another’s cause: Moisture causes flavor, for instance. Indeed, we say one accident is another’s subject in this manner—not because one accident can sustain another, but because a subject can receive one accident through another’s mediation.

We say that a power of the soul is a subject of a habit in this manner too. For one thing, a habit is related to a power of the soul as an actuality to a potentiality; for the power is indeterminate in its own nature, and through a habit it is determined to this or that. Moreover, acquired habits are caused through the principles of the soul’s powers.

In reply, then, the soul’s powers are subjects of virtues in this sense: A virtue is in the soul through a power’s mediation.

Everyone agrees on one part of the answer to this question, while their views on another part are incompatible with each other. Everyone concedes that some virtues are in the irascible and concupiscible appetites (for instance, temperance in the concupiscible and courage in the irascible). But then differences arise about this claim.

Some thinkers find that there are two distinct sets of irascible and concupiscible appetites: one in the higher part of the soul, and the other in the lower part. They say that the irascible and concupiscible appetites in the soul’s higher part can be subjects of virtue because these powers belong to the rational nature, while that is not true of the irascible and concupiscible powers in the soul’s lower part, since they belong to the sensory and animal nature. However, I have already discussed this in a different investigation (namely, whether we can find in the higher part of the soul two distinct powers, one of which is an irascible appetite and the other a concupiscible, strictly speaking).

At any rate, whatever anyone might say about this issue, we must maintain that there are virtues in the irascible and concupiscible appetites that are in the soul’s lower part, as the Philosopher says (Nicomachean Ethics 3.10 1117b24), and others say as well. The following will make this evident.

Since “virtue” refers to what completes a power, as said above (a. 1 reply), and since a power concerns an act, we must locate human virtue in those powers that can be sources of a human act. But it is not called a human act just because it is exercised in or by a human being in any way whatsoever, since in certain activities plants and nonhuman animals are just like us. Rather, human acts are those acts specially characteristic of human beings. Now human beings, as opposed to other sorts of creatures, have this as a special characteristic as regards their acts: They have control over their acts. Therefore, any acts over which human beings have control are human acts, strictly speaking, while those over which they lack control are not, even if they occur in human beings (for instance, digesting, growing, etc.). So there can be human virtue in something that is the source of this sort of act—an act over which one has control.

However, we should be aware that acts of this sort can have a threefold source. One source is the primary mover and commander, through which human beings have control over their acts. This is reason or will. The second is a moved mover—the sensory appetite—which is moved by the higher appetite insofar as it obeys reason, and then in turn moves our limbs by its command. The third is what is moved only: our limbs.

Although both the limbs and the lower appetite are moved by the higher part of the soul, they are moved in different ways. A limb obeys a command of the higher part, and it does so blindly and without any resistance, in keeping with the order of nature, as long as nothing hinders it. The hand and the foot provide clear examples. On the other hand, the lower appetite has its own characteristic inclination arising from its own nature, and this explains why it does not obey the higher appetite blindly but sometimes resists. Accordingly, Aristotle says in his Politics 1.5 (1254b4–5) that the soul governs the body by a despotic reign, as a master governs a slave, who does not have the resources to resist the master’s command in any respect. On the other hand, the rational part governs the soul’s lower parts by a royal and political reign, the way kings and leaders of cities govern free persons, who in some cases have the right and the resources to oppose the commands of the king or leader.

Therefore, to perform a perfect human act, we need nothing in our external members beyond their natural disposition, by which they are naturally suited to be moved by reason. However, in our lower appetite, which can oppose reason, we do need something if it is to perform without opposition the operation reason commands. For if the operation’s immediate source is imperfect, the operation must be imperfect, however perfect its higher source may be. So, if the lower appetite were not perfectly disposed to following reason’s command, the operation, whose proximate source is the lower appetite, would not be perfectly good, since some opposition from the sensory appetite would accompany it. Because of this, the lower appetite would feel a certain sadness, since the higher appetite would have moved it violently. This is what happens in people with strong desires they do not follow because reason forbids it. Therefore, when someone’s operation must concern matters that are the objects of the sensory appetite, in order for the operation to be good, there needs to be a disposition—a perfection—in the sensory appetite to enable it to submit to reason easily. We call this sort of disposition a virtue.

Therefore, when a virtue concerns what lies in the irascible power’s characteristic sphere, then this sort of virtue is also said to be in the irascible power as its subject. This is the case with courage, which is concerned with fear and daring, magnanimity, which is concerned with hope for demanding things, and gentleness, which is concerned with anger. Furthermore, when a virtue concerns what lies in the concupiscible power’s characteristic sphere, then it is said to be in the concupiscible power as its subject. This is the case with chastity, which concerns sexual pleasures, and sobriety and abstinence, which concern the pleasures of food and drink.

Through a virtuous habit, the power that is its subject acquires a perfection for performing its act. That is why a power does not need a virtuous habit to do something it extends to by its very nature.

Virtue directs the soul’s powers to what is good; for virtue is what makes its possessors good and their activity good too (Nicomachean Ethics 2.6 1106a15–17). However, what virtue does for the soul’s other powers, the will already has by its very nature as the power of will, since its object is what is good. Accordingly, the will inclines to what is good in the way that the concupiscible appetite inclines to what is pleasurable and the sense of hearing is directed to sound. Thus the will does not need a virtuous habit to incline it to a good correlative to it, since it inclines to this good by its very nature as the power of will. However, for goods that surpass this correlation, the will does need a virtuous habit.

Now, each thing’s appetite tends to that thing’s own, characteristic good. So, there are two ways a good can surpass this correlation: (1) in respect of the human species, and (2) in respect of the individual.

In the first case, the will is raised to a good that surpasses the boundaries of the human good. (By “human” I mean that which a human being is capable of through natural powers.) But above the human good is the divine good. Charity, and likewise hope, raise the human will to this.

In the second case, someone seeks to achieve another’s good, but the will does not pass beyond the confines of the human good. In this case, justice perfects the will, along with all the virtues tending toward others, such as generosity and the like. After all, justice is another’s good, as the Philosopher says in Ethics 5.1 (1130a4).

Accordingly, two virtues are in the will as their subject: charity and justice. An indication of this is that these two virtues do not concern the passions, as temperance and courage do, even though they belong to the soul’s appetitive part. It is clear, then, that they are not in the sensory appetite, where the passions are, but in the rational appetite—the will—in which there are no passions, since every passion is in the sensory part of the soul, as Physics 7.3 (248a6–9) proves. For the same reason, the virtues that do concern the passions (as courage concerns fear and daring, and temperance concerns desires) must be in the sensory appetite. Nor need there be any virtue in the will on account of these passions. That is because, in the case of these passions, the good is what is in keeping with reason, and the will is naturally inclined to this by its very nature as the power of will, since this is the will’s own characteristic good.

What marks the distinction between a natural and a rational power is that the former is determined to one object, while the latter is indifferently disposed to many.

Now, when an animal or rational appetite inclines to its desirable object, this must be due to some prior cognition of that object. After all, inclining to an end without any prior cognition is characteristic of natural appetite (as heavy objects, for instance, incline to the earth’s center). However, because the object of animal and rational appetite must be an apprehended good, the appetite can have a natural inclination toward it and the cognitive power can have a natural judgment concerning it as long as that good takes a single form. This is the case for nonhuman animals; for due to the weakness of their active principle, which extends to just a few things, they engage in just a few operations. Consequently, what is good for all members of the same species takes a single form. That is why their cognitive power gives them a natural judgment about their proper good, which takes this single form, and their appetite gives them a natural inclination to it. It is thanks to such natural judgments and appetites that all swallows build their nests in a uniform way, and all spiders weave their webs in a uniform way (and we can make this sort of observation about any other kind of nonhuman animal).

Human beings, in contrast, are capable of multiple and diverse operations because of the excellence of their active principle, their soul, whose power in a way extends to an infinite number of things. Therefore, a natural appetite for what is good, or a natural judgment about it, would not be enough to ensure our acting rightly. For that, appetite and judgment would have to be further determined and perfected.

True, a human being does incline by a natural appetite to pursue his own good. Still, since the good for human beings takes a wide variety of forms and consists in many things, one could not have a natural appetite for one’s own good when that good has been made determinate in the light of all the conditions required to make it one’s own good. That is because this good varies, taking many forms in keeping with the diversity of these conditions (such as persons, places, and so on).

For the same reason, one could not have a natural judgment about one’s own good. This type of judgment is uniform and insufficient for pursuing a good of this sort. That is why each human being has had to use reason, whose function is to draw connections among diverse things, to ascertain and discern what his own good is, where that good is made determinate in the light of all circumstances, insofar as he should pursue that good in the here and now. Without a habit to perfect it, reason can do this about as well as it can discern a conclusion of some theoretical science when it does not have the relevant habit of knowledge: imperfectly and with difficulty. Therefore, just as a habit of science must perfect contemplative reason if it is to discern correctly what is knowable in that science, a habit must also perfect practical reason if it is to discern correctly the human good in each case when one is to act. We call this virtue “prudence,” and its subject is practical reason.

Prudence also perfects all the moral virtues, seated in the appetitive part. Every one of these virtues produces an inclination in the appetite to some kind of human good. For instance, justice produces an inclination to the good of equality in things relevant to communal life, temperance to the good of restraint from sensual desires, and so on for each virtue. However, each of these goods can be brought about in various ways—and not in the same way in all cases. Therefore, to establish the right way, human beings need prudence in judgment. All the other virtues, then, have their rightness and the fullness of their goodness from this judgment, which is why the Philosopher says that the mean in moral virtue is determined in accordance with right reason. Because all appetitive habits obtain the character of virtue from this rightness and fullness of goodness, prudence is a cause of all the virtues of the appetitive part, which are called “moral” insofar as they are prudent. And that is why Gregory says in Morals on the Book of Job 22 that the other virtues can be virtues only if they do prudently what they strive after.

Virtue is ascribed to a thing in light of its relation to what is good because, as the Philosopher says, a things’ virtue is what makes its possessor good and makes its activity good too (Nicomachean Ethics 2.6 1106a15–17). For instance, a horse’s virtue is what makes it a good horse, and makes it gallop and bear a rider well—which is a horse’s task. So, a habit will have the character of virtue because it is directed to a good.

But there are two ways a habit can be directed to a good. It is directed to a good formally when it is directed to a good under its character as good; but it is directed to a good materially when it is directed to something that is good, but not under its character as good. Only the appetitive part of the soul has as its object a good under its character as good; for good is what all things have an appetite for. Therefore, those habits in the appetitive part or dependent on it are directed formally to something good. That is why they have the character of virtue most fully. In contrast, the habits neither in nor dependent upon the appetitive part can be directed materially to something good, but they cannot be directed to a good formally—to a good under its character as good. That explains why they can be called virtues in a way, but not as strictly speaking as habits of the first sort.

We must next take into consideration that the intellect, whether contemplative or practical, can be perfected by a habit in two ways. In the first way, it is perfected absolutely and in itself, insofar as it precedes—that is, moves—the will. In the second way, it is perfected by a habit insofar as the intellect follows the will—that is, elicits its own act at the will’s command. The intellect can be perfected in both these ways because these two powers—namely, intellect and will—encompass each other, as I have explained.

So, the habits that are in the contemplative or practical intellect in the first way can be called virtues in some sense, but not in the full sense. It is in this first way that understanding, knowledge, and wisdom are in the contemplative intellect, and craft is in the practical intellect. After all, people are said to have understanding or knowledge insofar as their intellects have been perfected for knowing the truth, which is the intellect’s good. And while the truth can be willed (since a person can will to understand the truth), it is not because of any such willing that the habits under discussion reach their perfection. That is because having knowledge does not make one willing to consider the truth; it just makes one adept at doing so, and so the consideration of truth is due to knowledge not insofar as that consideration is willed, but insofar as one’s considering is directly trained on its object. It is likewise with craft in the practical intellect. So, craft does not perfect artisans so as to give them appropriate volitions to apply their skill. It only gives them the knowledge and the aptitude to do so.

On the other hand, a habit that is in the contemplative or practical intellect insofar as the intellect follows the will has the character of virtue more truly because it gives a person not just the knowledge and the ability to act rightly, but also the volition. This is the case with faith and prudence, but in different ways.

Faith perfects the contemplative intellect in that the will commands the intellect. This is obvious from the act of faith: People assent through intellect to what surpasses human reason only because they will to do so. As Augustine says, only someone who wills to believe can do so (Tractates on the Gospel of John 26.2). Faith, it turns out, is like temperance in this respect: It exists in the contemplative intellect in such a way that it submits to the will’s command, just as temperance exists in the concupiscible appetite in such a way that it submits to reason’s command. As regards believing, then, the will commands the intellect not just as regards performing an act of belief, but also as regards determining the object of belief. That is because the intellect, as a result of the will’s command, assents to a determinate object of belief, just as the concupiscible appetite, thanks to temperance, aims at the mean that reason determines.

In contrast, prudence exists in the practical intellect or reason, as I have said, but in such a way that the will determines not its object, but only its end. Prudence figures out its own object: Presupposing as its end the good intended by the will, prudence figures out the ways to realize and preserve this good.

From what has been said, it is clear that the habits in the intellect are related to the will in different ways. Some do not depend on the will at all, except as concerns their use, and even this accidentally, since the use of this sort of habit—such as knowledge, wisdom, and craft—depends on the will and on the habit itself in different ways. After all, these habits bring us to the perfection not of wanting to use them appropriately, but only of being able to use them. Next, there is an intellectual habit that depends on the will to give it its principle, since in practical matters the end is a principle. Prudence is related to the will in this way. Finally, there is a habit that also has its object determined for it by the will. This is the case with faith.

Although all these habits can be called virtues in a way, the last two have the character of virtue more fully and more strictly speaking. However, they are not on that account more excellent or more perfect habits.

People’s disagreement about the way we attain virtues and knowledge mirrors their disagreement about the production of natural forms.

There have been some who maintained that [natural] forms preexisted in matter actually, although in a hidden way, and that a natural agent brought them from latency into the open. Anaxagoras held this view, asserting that all things were in all things. As a result, everything could be generated from everything.

In contrast, others have claimed that forms are totally from an external source—either from participation in Ideas, as Plato held, or from the Agent Intellect, as Avicenna held—and that natural agents merely dispose matter to the form.

The third option, Aristotle’s, holds a middle course. He holds that forms preexist in the potentiality of matter, but an external natural agent brings them into actuality (Generation of Animals 2.3).

It is the same when it comes to knowledge and the virtues. Some thinkers have held that they are in us by nature, and that study merely unblocks them. Plato seems to have held this. He maintained that participation in separated Forms has caused us to have knowledge and the virtues, but that union with the body hinders the soul from using them. We must unfetter them through studying the various fields of knowledge and through exercise of the virtues.

However, others have said that an outpouring from the Agent Intellect causes us to have knowledge and the virtues. Our study and exercise of virtue dispose us to receive its influence.

The third view holds a middle course: Knowledge and virtue are in us naturally insofar as we have the aptitude for them, although their completion is not in us naturally (Nicomachean Ethics 1 1103a25–26). This middle view is better, for just as [the corresponding middle view] about natural forms takes away nothing from the power of natural agents, so this view regarding the acquisition of knowledge and virtue through study and exercise preserves the causal efficacy of these efforts.

We must keep in mind, however, that there are two ways an aptitude for a perfection and form can be in a subject: (1) because of a passive potentiality only (for instance, in the matter of air there is an aptitude for the form of fire); or (2) because of a passive and an active potentiality jointly (for instance, a body that can be cured has an aptitude for health both because it is receptive of health and because it has within itself an active principle of health). It is in this second way that humans have a natural aptitude for virtue. That aptitude is due in part to the nature of our species, since the aptitude for virtue is common to all human beings, and in part to the individual’s nature, insofar as some people are more apt for virtue than others.

To make this clear, we must be aware that in human beings there are three possible subjects of virtue: intellect, will, and the lower appetite, which is divided into the concupiscible and irascible. This is evident from what has been explained earlier (aa. 4–7). Furthermore, we must bear in mind that for each of these there is, in some fashion, both the ability to receive virtue and an active source of virtue.

It is clear that the soul’s intellective part contains the possible intellect, which is in potentiality to all intelligible things. Intellectual virtue consists in the knowledge of these intelligibles. It is also clear that the intellective part contains the agent intellect, by whose light these potentially intelligible things become actually intelligible. Among these intelligible things, there are certain ones that people come to know right from the outset without intellectual endeavor and inquiry. Into this class fall first principles, and not just principles in contemplative fields (for instance, “Each whole is greater than one of its parts,” and other principles like this), but also those in practical matters (for instance, “What is bad is to be avoided,” and other principles like this). Now, these naturally known principles are the sources of all subsequent cognition, whether practical or contemplative, which we acquire through intellectual endeavor.

It is clear that there is a natural active source in the will’s case, too. That is because the will is naturally inclined to the ultimate end, and the end in practical matters has the character of a natural source. Therefore, the will’s inclination is an active source—and a source in respect of every disposition acquired in the soul’s affective part through the exercise of its powers. Moreover, it is clear that the will itself, insofar as it is a power indifferently disposed to alternative ways of achieving the end, is able to receive a habitual inclination to these or those alternative ways.

Finally, the irascible and concupiscible appetites are naturally obedient to reason and so are naturally receptive of virtue. Their virtue comes to perfection in them insofar as they are disposed to pursuing the good of reason.

All the aforementioned starting points of the virtues result from the nature of the human species and so are common to all of us. However, there is one kind of starting point of virtue that results from the nature of the individual, insofar as a human being is inclined to the activity of some virtue due to his natural constitution or the celestial bodies’ influence. While this inclination is a starting point of virtue, it is not a perfect virtue, because that requires reason’s moderation. That is why the definition of virtue includes the clause that virtue disposes one to choose the mean according to right reason. After all, anyone who followed an inclination like this without reason’s discrimination would frequently sin.

Just as this last starting point of virtue does not have the character of perfect virtue without reasons’ contribution, neither do any of the starting points discussed earlier. That is because (a) it is through reason’s investigation that we come to specifics on the basis of general principles; (b) it is through reason’s functioning that a person is led from the desire for the ultimate end to the means suited to that end; and (c) it is reason that, by commanding them, makes the concupiscible and irascible appetites subject to itself. Accordingly, it is clear that reason’s contribution is needed to bring a virtue to completion, whether the virtue is in the will, or in the irascible or concupiscible appetites.

Note, however, that the starting point of virtue in a higher part of the soul is directed to the virtue in a lower part. For instance, we are rendered apt for virtue in the will through the starting point of virtue that is in the will and the one that is in the intellect, while we are rendered apt for virtue in the irascible and concupiscible appetites through both the starting point of virtue in those appetites and the starting point in the higher powers. However, the converse is not true. Accordingly, it is also clear that reason, which is higher [than the other powers], works for the completion of every virtue.

Now, the operative principles reason and nature are divided in opposition, as Physics 2 makes clear, because a rational power is disposed to alternatives, while a nature is directed to one thing. Therefore, it is clear that a virtue’s perfection stems not from nature, but from reason.

Virtue is a power’s utmost extent (On the Heavens 281a15). The utmost extent is that to which a power reaches in order to perform a perfect operation, and that in turn is the operation’s being good. Clearly, then, each thing’s virtue is that through which it produces a good operation. Now, each thing is for the sake of its operation. Moreover, each thing is good insofar as it is well disposed to its end. We must conclude, then, that each thing is good, and operates well, through the virtue characteristic of it.

However, the good characteristic of one sort of thing is different from the good characteristic of a different sort, for when perfectible things are diverse, their perfections are diverse. Therefore, a human being’s good is different from a horse’s or a stone’s good.

Moreover, there are various ways of understanding the good of human beings themselves, depending on the various perspectives from which they are viewed. After all, the good of a human being as a human being is different from the good of a human being as a citizen. For the good of a human being as a human being is that one’s reason be perfected in its apprehension of truth and that one’s lower appetites be regulated as reason’s rule requires; for it is being rational that makes humans human. However, the good of a human being as a citizen is that one be directed as the city requires as regards all its people. Accordingly, the Philosopher says in Politics 3.4 (1276b34) that the virtue that makes one a good human being is not the same as the virtue that makes one a good citizen.

However, human beings are not just citizens of the earthly city. They have a share in the heavenly society of Jerusalem, whose ruler is the Lord and whose citizens are the angels and all the saints, whether they are reigning in glory and resting in their heavenly homeland or are still making their earthly pilgrimage, according to the Apostle in Ephesians 2:19: “You are fellow citizens with the saints, and members of God’s household,” etc. But human nature is not enough to enable us to have a share in this society. Rather, God’s grace elevates us to this. Clearly, then, we cannot acquire through our natural endowments the virtues of human beings as sharers in this society. So, our acts do not cause these virtues. They are infused in us as a divine gift.

However, the virtues of human beings considered as human, or as sharers in the earthly city, do not surpass the capacity of human nature. So, human beings can acquire them through their natural endowments and by their own acts. This is clear from what follows. If one has a natural aptitude for some perfection, and if this aptitude is due to a passive principle only, one can acquire it, but not by one’s own act. One can acquire it by the action of an external natural agent, the way air receives light from the sun. In contrast, if one has a natural aptitude for some perfection due to both an active and a passive principle, in that case one can attain it by one’s own act. For instance, a sick person’s body has a natural aptitude for health both because the subject is naturally receptive of health and because the body possesses the natural power to heal. That is why a sick person is sometimes cured without the action of an external agent.

It was shown in the previous question that human beings’ natural aptitude for virtue is due to active and passive principles (a. 8). This is apparent just from the ordered relationship the soul’s powers bear to each other. For in the intellective part there is a principle that stands as passive, the possible intellect, which the agent intellect brings to its perfection. Next, the actualized intellect moves the will, since the good, as that is understood by the intellect, is the end that moves the appetite. Moreover, once reason moves it, the will is naturally suited to move the sensory appetite, that is, the irascible and concupiscible powers, which are naturally subject to reason. Therefore, it is clear that any virtue, which makes a human being’s operation good, has its active principle in the human being, and by its own action this principle can bring the virtue to actuality, whether in the intellect, the will, or the irascible and concupiscible powers.

However, the virtues in the intellective part are brought to actuality in a different way from the virtues in the appetitive part, for the following reason. The action of the intellect (and of any cognitive power) occurs through its being made in a way like the object of cognition, and so the intellective part acquires an intellectual virtue through the agent intellect’s making it comprehend species, either actually or habitually. In contrast, the action of an appetitive virtue consists in an inclination to a desirable object, and so to acquire virtue, the appetitive part must be given an inclination to something determinate.

Next, we must keep in mind that a natural thing’s inclination results from its form, and so it is an inclination to one course, in keeping with the form’s demands. As long as the form persists, that sort of inclination cannot be eliminated, nor can one opposed to it be instilled. This consideration explains why natural things do not develop or lose habits for acting in certain ways. After all, no matter how many times someone tosses a rock in the air, the rock never acquires the habit of flying upward. Instead, it is continuously inclined to a downward movement. However, things indifferently disposed to alternatives do not have a form by which they are steered in a determinate way to a single course. Instead, the mover corresponding to each determines it to a single course. It is precisely because it is determined to that course that it becomes disposed to it to a degree; and when the mover corresponding to it inclines and determines it to that same course over and over, it ingrains a determinate inclination in it. As a result, the disposition that has been implanted is a form tending to a single course in the mode of a nature, so to speak. That is why we call a habit a second nature.

Accordingly, because the appetitive power is indifferently disposed to alternatives, it tends to one of them only insofar as reason determines it to that one. Therefore, when reason repeatedly inclines the appetitive power to one certain thing, a disposition is ingrained in it. Through this disposition, the appetite is inclined to the single course that has become habitual. A disposition ingrained in this way is a habit of virtue.

Therefore, a virtue of the appetitive part, if we think about it correctly, is just a disposition or form that reason has stamped and impressed on the appetitive power. For this reason, no matter how strong the appetitive power’s disposition for some object is, it can have the character of virtue only if it bears reason’s mark. That is why the definition of virtue makes reference to reason. In fact, the Philosopher says in Ethics 2.6 (1106b36–1107a2) that virtue is a habit of choosing, lying in a mean determined by reason, as the prudent person would determine it.

Moral and intellectual virtues do lie in a mean, but in different ways. However, theological virtues do not lie in a mean, except, perhaps, coincidentally.

To make this clear, we need to keep in mind that the good of any thing with a standard and measure consists in its conforming to that standard or measure. That is why we say that a thing is well disposed when it has neither more nor less than it ought to.

Next, we must note that the moral virtues’ matter is human actions and passions, just as craft’s matter is producible items. Therefore, just as the good in the case of items that craft makes consists in the irreceiving the measure demanded by the craft, which is the standard for artifacts, so the good in the case of human actions and passions is that they attain the measure of reason, which is the standard and measure for all human actions and passions. For since having reason is what makes a human being human, it must be that a human being’s good is to be as reason demands. When people exceed or fall short of reason’s measure in their actions or passions, this is bad. Therefore, since a human being’s good is human virtue, it follows that moral virtue consists in a mean between excess and deficiency, where excess, deficiency, and the mean are taken with respect to reason’s standard.

Some of the intellectual virtues—the virtues seated in reason itself—are practical, such as prudence and craft. Others are contemplative, such as wisdom, knowledge, and understanding. The practical virtues have as their matter either human passions and actions or the products of craft themselves, while the speculative virtues have necessary things as their matter. Reason is related to these two sorts of matter in different ways. When reason plays an active role regarding its objects, it serves as their standard and measure, as has already been explained. However, it stands to the things it contemplates as what is measured and gauged to its standard and measure, since our intellect’s good is the truth, which our intellect attains when it corresponds to the thing.

Therefore, just as the moral virtues consist in a mean determined by reason, the same mean characterizes prudence, a virtue of the practical intellect concerning morality, in that it sets the mean for actions and passions. This fact is apparent from the definition of moral virtue, since moral virtue, as Ethics 2.6 (1106b36) explains, is a habit of choice, consisting in a mean as the prudent person would determine it. Therefore, both prudence and moral virtue have the same mean, but but in prudence it is like a stamp, while in moral virtue it is like what is stamped. In the same vein, the rightness of a craft (which rightly fashions) and of an artifact (which is rightly fashioned) is the same.

The mean for the contemplative intellectual virtues will be the truth itself, which is found in it insofar as it attains its measure. This is not a mean between contraries on the part of the thing, for the contraries between which we find the mean of virtue belong not to the measure but to what is measured, insofar as it can exceed or fall short of the measure, as is evident from what I have said about moral virtues. Therefore, we must take the contraries between which lies the mean of the intellectual virtues on the part of the intellect itself. These contraries in the intellect are opposed based on affirmation and negation, as On Interpretation (14 23b3) makes clear. Therefore, between opposed affirmations and negations we find the mean of the contemplative intellectual virtues, and these are truths. For instance, it is true when we say that something is the case when it is the case or that something is not the case when it is not; but when we say that something is the case when it is not, this will be a falsehood of excess, and when we say that something is not the case when it is, this will be a falsehood of deficiency.

Therefore, if the intellect did not have in itself a contrariety of its own, over and above the contrariety in things, we could not find a mean and extremes in the intellectual virtues. Now, it is clear that we can find in the will no contrariety that is its own. There is just contrariety based on its relation to the contrary things it wills. That is because the intellect understands something insofar as it is in the intellect, while the will is moved to things as they are in themselves. Therefore, if there is a virtue in the will based on its relation to its measure and standard, this sort of virtue will not consist in a mean. That is because we cannot find extremes on the part of the measure, but only on the part of what is measured, insofar as it exceeds or falls short of the measure.

Finally, the theological virtues are directed to their matter or object—God—by the will’s mediation. While this is clear in the case of charity and hope, it is the same for faith: It is true that faith is in the intellect, but that is so due to the wills’ commanding it, for no one believes without willing it. Therefore, since God is the standard and measure of the human will, it is clear that the theological virtues do not lie in a mean, if we are speaking of them in their own right, even if it is sometimes the case that one of them lies in a mean coincidentally, as will be explained later.

ARTICLE 1
Prudence, Justice, Courage,
and Temperance: Are These Four
the Cardinal Virtues?

“Cardinal” derives from cardo (“hinge”), on which a door turns, as in Proverbs 26:14: “As the door turns on its hinge, so does the slothful upon his bed.” And so we call those virtues “cardinal” that serve as a basis for human life, for life serves as the door through which we enter.

A human life is one that is fitting for a human being. In humans, we find a sensory nature, in which we resemble nonhuman animals; practical reason, which is a distinctive characteristic in keeping with the level we occupy; and contemplative intellect, which is not found in us in the perfect way the angels have it, but in a partial way. That is why the contemplative life is not human, properly speaking, but superhuman, while the life of sensual pleasure, which embraces sensory goods, is not human but bestial. And so human life, properly speaking, is the active life, which consists in the exercise of the moral virtues. That is why those virtues are properly called “cardinal” on which our whole moral life in a way turns and is grounded, as on the foundations for this sort of life. That is why these virtues are also called “fundamental.”

We must keep in mind, however, that four conditions characterize a virtuous act:

(a) The substance of the act itself must be modified in itself; and on this basis we call an act good, on the grounds that it concerns the matter it ought to concern and is outfitted with the circumstances it ought to have.

(b) The act must have the right mode of relation to its subject. In other words, it must be steadfast in clinging to it.

These three conditions concern what reason directs, but the fourth concerns that directing reason itself:

(d) There must be knowledge.

The Philosopher touches on these four conditions in Ethics 2.4 (1105a31–33), where he says that it is not enough for virtue that acts are carried out justly and temperately, which has to do with the modification of the act (a). The agent must satisfy three further conditions.

(b′) The agent must choose, and choose for the sake of this (that is, the right end).

This has to do with the act’s rightness in relation to something external (c).

(c′) The agent must be disposed to be steadfast and unwavering and act accordingly (b).

So then, these four—a directing knowledge (d), rightness (c), steadfastness (b), and moderation (a)—even though all of them are necessary for any virtuous act, each one, taken by itself, has a certain preeminence in certain specific matters and activities.

As regards practical knowledge, three sorts of steps are needed. The first is deliberation and the second is judgment about what we have deliberated. It is the same with contemplative reason, where we also find inquiry or discovery and judgment. However, because the practical intellect commands avoiding and pursuing, and the contemplative intellect does not, as On the Soul 3.9 (432b26-29) says, a third step pertains to practical reason: to issue commands about what we should do. This last is preeminent, and the other two are directed to it.

With respect to the first step, we are perfected by the virtue of good deliberation, which enables us to take counsel well. Synesis and gnomē,³ which make us good at judging, as Ethics 6.9–10 says, perfect us in the second sort. But it is prudence that makes reason good at commanding, as that same book says. So, it is clear that what is preeminent in directing knowledge is the concern of prudence, and that is why we list prudence as the cardinal virtue in the area of practical knowledge.

In a similar way, an act’s rightness in relation to something external has the character of goodness and praiseworthiness, even when matters concern the agent himself alone. However, it is praised above all in matters concerning another, that is, when he performs a right act not just in matters that concern himself, but also in those that include his interaction with others. For the Philosopher says in Ethics 5.1 (1129b33–1130a1) that many people can use virtue in their own affairs, but when it comes to affairs concerning others they cannot. Therefore, we list justice as the fundamental virtue in these matters. Justice adapts us in the right way to the others we must interact with and establishes a balanced relationship with them. That is why things adapted in the right way are commonly called “justified”.

Now, moderation, or restraint, garners praise and has the character of goodness, especially when we are intensely driven by a passion that reason ought to restrain so that we reach virtue’s mean. Passion drives us above all to pursue the strongest pleasures, which are the pleasures of touch. That is why we hold the cardinal virtue in this area to be temperance, which curbs desires for pleasures of touch.

Steadfastness, finally, garners praise and has the character of goodness especially where passion most strongly urges us to flee; and this occurs above all in the greatest dangers, which are mortal dangers. That is why we hold the cardinal virtue in this area to be courage, which buttresses us in the good of perseverance as we face mortal dangers.

Of these four virtues, prudence is in reason, justice in the will, courage in the irascible appetite, and temperance in the concupiscible. Only these powers can be sources of human—that is, voluntary—acts.

From this discussion, the account of the cardinal virtues is clear, both as regards the modes each virtue has, which serve as their formal character, and as regards their matter, and as regards their subject.

ARTICLE 2
Are the Virtues Connected So That
Those with One Virtue Have Them All?

We can speak about virtues in two ways: as perfect or as imperfect. And while the perfect virtues are mutually connected, the imperfect virtues are not necessarily connected.

To make this clear, it is important to know that virtue is what makes human beings and their activity good, and so the sort of virtue that makes us and our activity perfectly good is perfect virtue. In contrast, a virtue is imperfect if it makes us and our activity good not absolutely, but in a certain respect. In human activities, we achieve what is good absolutely by satisfying a standard for human acts. There is one such standard that is distinctive of humans and belongs to our level: right reason. But there is another that stands to our activities as their transcendent first measure, and that is God. We attain right reason through prudence, which is right reason about activities open to us, as the Philosopher says in Ethics 6.5 (1140b20–21). But we attain God through charity, according to 1 John 4:16: “He who abides in love abides in God, and God in him.”

Accordingly, there are three levels of virtue. There are some that are imperfect in every respect: the ones that do not accompany prudence and are not linked to right reason. These include the inclinations some people have to certain activities of the virtues. These may even be congenital inclinations, as Job 31:18 says: “From my infancy pity grew up with me, and it came out with me from my mother’s womb.” Inclinations such as these are not all together in everyone. Rather, some people have an inclination to one sort of activity while others have an inclination to another. These inclinations lack the defining character of virtue. That is because no one can use a virtue badly, as Augustine says, but one can use these sorts of inclinations badly and harmfully if one uses them without prudential discretion, just as a horse that lacks sight will fall all the harder the faster it runs. That is why Gregory says in Morals on the Book of Job 22.1.2 that unless the other virtues do what they seek in a prudent way, they cannot be virtues at all. So, inclinations without prudence do not have the character of virtue completely.

Those virtues that attain right reason, yet do not attain God himself through charity, occupy the second level. These virtues are perfect in a respect: in relation to the human good. However, they are not perfect absolutely speaking, since they do not attain the first standard that is our ultimate end, as Augustine says in Against Julian (4.3.21). Therefore they fall short of the true character of virtue, just as moral inclinations without prudence also fall short of it.

The third level consists of those virtues that are perfect absolutely speaking, the ones that accompany charity; for these virtues make a person’s activity good absolutely speaking, since they enable it to reach even the ultimate end.

We must bear in mind further that just as there cannot be moral virtues without prudence (for the reason just given), there cannot be prudence without the moral virtues, for the following reason. Prudence is right reason about what we can do. Now, in order for there to be right reason in any genus, we must have a right evaluation and judgment about the principles from which that reasoning proceeds. In geometry, for instance, we cannot have a right evaluation without having right reason about geometrical principles. Now, the principles of what we can do are ends, for our ends give the things we ought to do their character as things we ought to do. Now, a person has a right evaluation of an end due to morally virtuous habits; for, as the Philosopher says in Ethics 3.5 (1114a32–b1), the way the end appears to one depends on the sort of person one is. For instance, the good in keeping with virtue appears desirable as an end to virtuous people, while to vicious people what appears desirable as an end is what corresponds to the vice they have. (Something similar holds of the sense of taste when it is diseased and when it is healthy.) Therefore, whoever has prudence must have the moral virtues as well.

Likewise, whoever has charity must have all the other virtues, for the following reason. Human beings have charity through divine infusion, according to Romans 5:5: “The charity of God is poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” However, whenever God gives things an inclination to something, he also gives them certain forms that are the principles of the operations and movements toward whatever things God inclines them. For instance, he gives fire the lightness through which it swiftly and easily rises. And so, as Wisdom 8 says, “He orders all things sweetly.” In like fashion, then, God must infuse along with charity those forms (in this case, habits) that readily issue in the acts that charity inclines us to. Now, charity inclines us to all the acts of the virtues: Since it concerns our ultimate end, it commands all the acts of the virtues. That is because any craft or virtue that regards an end commands those crafts or virtues that bear on the end. For instance, military science commands the equestrian art, which in turn commands the craft of bridle making, as Ethics 1.1 (1094a9–14) says. Therefore, as becomes his wisdom and goodness, God infuses all the virtuous habits together with charity. That is why 1 Corinthians 12:4 says: “Charity is patient, charity is kind,” etc.

Therefore, if we are talking about those virtues that are perfect absolutely speaking, these are connected because of charity: We cannot have any of these virtues without charity, and if we have charity we have them all. On the other hand, if we are talking about the virtues that have the second level of perfection (perfection with regard to the human good), these virtues are connected through prudence: There can be no moral virtue without prudence, and we cannot have prudence if we lack a moral virtue. However, if we are talking about the four cardinal virtues insofar as they imply certain general conditions of the virtues, then their connection stems from the fact that for an act to be virtuous, it is not enough for one of these conditions to be present, but all of them must be. This is the way Gregory appears to explain their connection in Morals on the Book of Job 22.1.2.

From Aquinas, Disputed Questions on Virtue, translated by Jeffrey Hause and Claudia Eisen Murphy (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 2010). Copyright © 2010. Reprinted by permission of the publisher.

1. Objections and responses to objections are omitted throughout this selection from the work.

2. Aquinas takes this definition from the Sentences of Peter Lombard (2.27.1). The definition, as stated, dates back to Prosper of Aquitaine (Sentences 106), who had collected the definition’s elements from Augustine’s scattered remarks in On Free Choice of the Will (2.18–19).

3. Both are virtues guiding our judgment. Synesis appeals to moral rules that apply under ordinary conditions. When we face circumstances in which those rules fail to apply, we need to appeal to the higher principles from which those common rules are derived to discriminate what we should do, and that is the task of gnomē.