Part I, Chapter VIII, 1

OF THE VIRTUES COMMONLY CALLED INTELLECTUAL, AND THEIR CONTRARY DEFECTS

Virtue in general, whatever its subject, is something valued for its excellence; it exists by comparison. If all things were equal in all people, nothing would be prized. By INTELLECTUAL virtues we always mean abilities of mind that people praise, value, and wish to have themselves. These generally go by the name of good wit, though the word wit is also used to distinguish one particular ability from the others.

These virtues are of two kinds, natural and acquired. By natural I do not mean what a person possesses from birth: that is nothing but sense, in which people differ so little from one another and from brute beasts that it cannot be counted among the virtues. I mean the wit gained solely by use and experience, without method, cultivation, or instruction. This NATURAL WIT consists chiefly in two things: speed of imagination (that is, the swift succession of one thought after another) and steady direction toward some approved end. Conversely, a slow imagination produces the defect or fault of mind commonly called DULLNESS or stupidity, and sometimes other names signifying slowness of movement or difficulty in being moved.

This difference in quickness arises from the difference in people's passions: different people love and dislike different things, and therefore their thoughts run in different directions and attend to and observe different things as they pass through the imagination. In the succession of people's thoughts, there is nothing to observe about the things they think of except how they resemble one another, how they differ, what they serve for, or how they serve a particular purpose. Those who notice resemblances rarely noticed by others are said to have good wit, meaning in this case a good fancy. But those who notice differences and dissimilarities—who distinguish, discern, and judge one thing against another—are said to have good judgment, if the distinctions are not easy to make. Especially in conversation and business, where one must distinguish times, places, and people, this virtue is called DISCRETION. The first, fancy without the help of judgment, is not praised as a virtue; the second, judgment and discretion, is praised in itself, without the help of fancy. Besides discretion concerning times, places, and people, a good fancy also requires the frequent application of one's thoughts to their end—that is, to some use to be made of them. With this, a person possessing the virtue will readily find comparisons that please not only by illuminating the discourse and adorning it with fresh, apt metaphors, but also by the rarity of their invention. Yet without steadiness and direction toward an end, a great fancy is a kind of madness: such as afflicts people who, entering into a discourse, are snatched from their purpose by everything that comes to mind, into so many and such long digressions and parentheses that they lose themselves entirely. I know no special name for this kind of folly. Its cause is sometimes lack of experience, through which what seems new and rare to a person does not seem so to others; sometimes faintheartedness, through which what seems great to that person appears trivial to others. Whatever is new or great, and therefore seems worth telling, gradually draws a person from the intended path of the discourse.

In a good poem, whether epic or dramatic, and likewise in sonnets, epigrams, and other pieces, both judgment and fancy are required. But fancy must be more prominent, because such works please by their extravagance, though they must not displease through indiscretion.

In a good history, judgment must be prominent, because its merit consists in its method, its truth, and its choice of the actions most useful to know. Fancy has no place except to adorn the style.

In speeches of praise and in invectives, fancy predominates, because the aim is not truth but honor or dishonor, achieved by noble or contemptible comparisons. Judgment does no more than suggest what circumstances make an action praiseworthy or blameworthy.

In exhortations and pleas, judgment or fancy is needed most according to whether truth or disguise best serves the design at hand.

In demonstration, in counsel, and in every rigorous search for truth, judgment does everything, except when an apt comparison is needed to open the understanding; then fancy has some use. But metaphors in this case are altogether excluded. Since they openly profess deception, to admit them into counsel or reasoning would be manifest folly.

In any discourse whatever, if a lack of discretion is apparent, however extravagant the fancy, the entire discourse will be taken as a sign of deficient wit. It will never be taken so when discretion is evident, however ordinary the fancy.

A person's secret thoughts range over everything—holy and profane, clean and obscene, grave and light—without shame or blame. Spoken discourse cannot do so except as far as judgment approves the time, place, and company. An anatomist or physician may speak or write an opinion on unclean matters, because the aim is not to please but to benefit. For another person to write extravagant, agreeable fancies on the same subjects is like someone who has rolled in dirt presenting himself before respectable company. The difference is the lack of discretion. Again, in an avowedly relaxed mood and among familiar companions, one may play on the sounds and double meanings of words, sometimes with flashes of extraordinary fancy. But in a sermon, in public, or before strangers or people we ought to revere, no jingling of words will fail to be counted folly. The difference, again, is only a lack of discretion. Where wit is wanting, then, it is not fancy that is wanting but discretion. Judgment without fancy is wit; fancy without judgment is not.

When a person with a design in hand lets their thoughts range over many things, observing how they conduce to that design or what other design they might serve, and when these observations are neither easy nor usual, this wit is called PRUDENCE. It depends on extensive experience and on memory of similar things and their past consequences. In this respect people differ less than they do in fancy and judgment: people of equal age do not differ greatly in the quantity of experience, but their experience lies in different occasions, each having private designs. Governing a family well and governing a kingdom well are not different degrees of prudence but different kinds of business, no more than drawing a picture smaller than life, life-sized, or larger than life represents different degrees of art. A plain farmer is more prudent in the affairs of his own household than a privy counselor in another person's affairs.

Add to prudence the use of unjust or dishonest means, such as fear or want commonly suggests, and you have the crooked wisdom called CRAFT, a sign of faintheartedness. For greatness of spirit is contempt for unjust or dishonest aids. What the Latins call Versutia (rendered in English as shifting) is evading a present danger or inconvenience by entering into a greater one, as when someone robs one person to pay another. It is merely a more shortsighted craft, called Versutia from Versura, meaning to borrow money at interest to make an interest payment due now.

As for acquired wit—I mean wit acquired through method and instruction—there is none but reason, founded on the right use of speech, which produces the sciences. But I have already spoken of reason and science in the fifth and sixth chapters.

The causes of these differences in wit lie in the passions; differences in passion proceed partly from differences in bodily constitution and partly from differences in education. If they proceeded from the temper of the brain and the organs of sense, whether external or internal, there would be no less difference between people in sight, hearing, and the other senses than in fancy and discretion. They proceed, therefore, from the passions, which differ not only with people's constitutions but also with their customs and education.

The passions that most cause differences of wit are chiefly the varying degrees of desire for power, riches, knowledge, and honor. All of these can be reduced to the first, desire for power; for riches, knowledge, and honor are various kinds of power.

Therefore, someone without a strong passion for any of these things, someone indifferent, as people say, may be good enough not to give offense, but cannot possibly possess great fancy or much judgment. Thoughts are to desires what scouts and spies are to an army: they range abroad and find the way to the things desired. From desire comes all steadiness and quickness of the mind's movement. To have no desire is to be dead; to have weak passions is dullness; to have passions indiscriminately for everything is GIDDINESS and distraction; and to have stronger, more vehement passions for something than others usually display is what people call MADNESS.

There are nearly as many kinds of madness as there are passions. Sometimes an extraordinary, extravagant passion arises from a bad condition of the bodily organs or from injury to them; sometimes the injury and disorder of the organs are caused by the force or prolonged duration of a passion. But in both cases the madness is of one and the same nature.

The passion whose violence or persistence produces madness is either great vainglory, commonly called pride and self-conceit, or great dejection of mind.

Pride makes a person subject to anger, whose excess is the madness called RAGE and FURY. Thus excessive desire for revenge, when habitual, harms the organs and becomes rage; excessive love joined with jealousy also becomes rage; excessive regard for oneself on account of divine inspiration, wisdom, learning, beauty, and the like becomes distraction and giddiness; the same regard joined with envy becomes rage; and vehement conviction of the truth of something, when contradicted by others, becomes rage.

Dejection makes a person subject to baseless fears, a madness commonly called MELANCHOLY, which shows itself in various ways: haunting solitary places and graves, superstitious behavior, and fearing one particular thing or another. In sum, all passions that produce strange and unusual behavior are called by the general name of madness. Anyone willing to take the trouble could catalog a legion of its several kinds. And if excesses are madness, there is no doubt that the passions themselves, when they tend to evil, are degrees of the same thing.

Of the Qualities Commonly Called Intellectual Virtues, and Their Opposite Defects

Virtue, in anything, is a quality valued because it stands out. It depends on comparison. If everyone had everything equally, nothing would be prized. Intellectual virtues are the abilities of the mind that people praise, value, and want for themselves. They are commonly called good wit, though “wit” is also used for one particular ability among them.

These virtues are either natural or acquired. By natural I do not mean what a person has from birth. That is merely the senses, in which human beings differ so little from each other, or from animals, that they cannot count as virtues. I mean the wit gained simply through use and experience, without a method, training, or instruction. natural wit chiefly consists of two things: quick imagination, meaning a swift succession of thoughts, and steady direction toward an approved goal. By contrast, slow imagination is the mental defect commonly called dullness or stupidity, along with other names suggesting slow movement or difficulty in getting started.

Differences in quickness come from differences in people's passions. People love or dislike different things, so their thoughts go in different directions. They notice and dwell on different things passing through their minds. In the succession of thoughts, we can notice only how things resemble each other, how they differ, what they are useful for, or how they serve some purpose. People who notice resemblances others seldom notice are said to have good wit; here that means a good imagination. Those who notice differences and distinctions, and can judge between things where that is difficult, have good judgment. In conversation and business, where we must distinguish times, places, and people, this virtue is called discretion. Imagination without the help of judgment is not praised as a virtue. Judgment and discretion, however, are praised in themselves even without imagination. Good imagination also needs discretion about times, places, and people. Beyond that, it needs a person to keep applying their thoughts to a goal, that is, to some practical use. A person who does this can readily find comparisons that please. These comparisons explain their argument, adorn it with fresh and fitting metaphors, and surprise people with their originality. But without steadiness and direction toward a goal, a powerful imagination is a kind of madness. Some people enter a discussion and then let every passing thought drag them away. Their digressions and side remarks become so many and so long that they lose their way entirely. I know no special name for this folly. Sometimes it comes from lack of experience, which makes something seem new and unusual to one person when others see nothing special in it. Sometimes it comes from timidity, which makes something seem important when others think it trivial. Anything that seems new or important, and thus worth mentioning, gradually pulls the speaker away from the intended subject.

A good epic or dramatic poem, sonnet, epigram, or other piece needs both judgment and imagination. But imagination should stand out more. Such works please by their freedom and inventiveness, though poor discretion must not make them displeasing.

In a good history, judgment must stand out. Its quality depends on its method, its truth, and its choice of the actions most useful to know about. Imagination has no role except to adorn the style.

In speeches of praise and attacks on people, imagination dominates. The aim is not truth but honor or dishonor, achieved by flattering or degrading comparisons. Judgment only identifies the circumstances that make an action praiseworthy or blameworthy.

In speeches urging action and in legal arguments, judgment or imagination is most needed according to whether truth or disguise best serves the speaker's purpose.

In demonstrations, counsel, and every rigorous search for truth, judgment does all the work. Sometimes a good comparison helps someone understand, and imagination is useful to that extent. But metaphors must be excluded entirely here. They openly present one thing as another, and admitting them into counsel or reasoning would plainly be foolish.

In any discussion, if a lack of discretion is obvious, even the most brilliant imagination will make the discussion seem witless. When discretion is obvious, no amount of ordinary imagination has that effect.

A person's private thoughts move freely among all things: sacred and profane, clean and obscene, serious and light. There is no shame or blame in that. But a person cannot speak about them all unless judgment finds the time, place, and audience appropriate. An anatomist or doctor may speak or write about unclean matters because the point is to help, not to entertain. Another person writing playful and extravagant fantasies about them is like someone who has rolled in the dirt and then presented himself in polite company. Lack of discretion makes the difference. Again, in a relaxed mood among familiar people, someone may play with sounds and double meanings, sometimes with exceptional inventiveness. But in a sermon, in public, or before strangers or people we ought to respect, any such wordplay will be judged foolish. Again, lack of discretion makes the difference. So when someone lacks wit, what is missing is not imagination but discretion. Judgment without imagination is wit; imagination without judgment is not.

Suppose someone pursuing a goal thinks about many things and notices how they might help reach it, or what other goals they might serve. If those observations are unusual and hard to make, this ability is called prudence. It depends on extensive experience and memory of similar things and their earlier results. People differ less in prudence than in imagination or judgment. People of the same age have roughly equal amounts of experience, though their opportunities differ, since each has private goals. Managing a household well and managing a kingdom well require different kinds of business, not different degrees of prudence. Likewise, painting a small picture and painting one life-size or larger require different kinds of work, not different degrees of art. An ordinary farmer is more prudent in running his own home than a privy counselor would be in managing another person's affairs.

Add unjust or dishonest means to prudence, such as fear or need often prompts, and you have the crooked wisdom called craft. It shows a lack of courage, since greatness of spirit means rejecting unjust or dishonest help. There is also what the Latin writers call versutia, or “shifting”: escaping a present danger or difficulty by taking on a greater one, as when someone robs one person to pay another. This is merely short-sighted craft. Versutia comes from versura, which means borrowing money at interest to pay interest immediately due.

As for acquired wit, meaning wit gained by method and instruction, there is only reason. It rests on using speech correctly and produces the sciences. I have already discussed reason and science in the fifth and sixth chapters.

Differences in wit come from the passions. Differences in passions arise partly from bodily constitution and partly from education. If differences in wit came from the brain's makeup or from the organs of the outward or inward senses, people would differ as much in sight, hearing, and their other senses as they do in imagination and discretion. So the difference comes from the passions, which vary both with people's constitutions and with their customs and education.

The passions chiefly responsible for differences in wit are the varying desires for power, wealth, knowledge, and honor. All can be reduced to the first, desire for power. Wealth, knowledge, and honor are kinds of power.

Someone with no strong passion for any of these things, who is, as people say, indifferent, may be a good person to the extent of offending no one. But such a person cannot have a powerful imagination or much judgment. Thoughts serve desires like scouts and spies sent out to find a path to what we want. All the mind's steadiness and quickness come from desire. To have no desire is to be dead. Weak passions make one dull. To be equally passionate about everything produces giddiness and distraction. To have passions more forceful than is normally seen in others is what people call madness.

There are nearly as many kinds of madness as passions. Sometimes an unusually excessive passion comes from damaged or poorly constituted bodily organs. Sometimes a violent or long-lasting passion itself damages those organs. In either case the madness is the same in nature.

The passion whose intensity or duration leads to madness is either great vain glory, commonly called pride and self-importance, or profound dejection.

Pride makes people prone to anger. Extreme anger is the madness called rage or fury. An excessive desire for revenge, if it becomes habitual, harms the organs and becomes rage. Excessive love combined with jealousy also becomes rage. An excessive opinion of one's own divine inspiration, wisdom, learning, beauty, or anything similar becomes distraction and giddiness. Combine that opinion with envy and it becomes rage. A fierce conviction that something is true, when others contradict it, becomes rage too.

Dejection leaves a person vulnerable to groundless fears. This is the madness commonly called melancholy. It takes many forms, including frequenting lonely places and graves, behaving superstitiously, and fearing one particular thing or another. In short, all passions that produce strange and unusual behavior are generally called madness. Anyone willing to take the trouble could list a legion of its different kinds. If their extremes are madness, then passions tending toward evil must themselves be lesser degrees of it.