yet no disease nor accident happening to the grosser parts, nor impulse of outward objects can alter their texture. Whether the case be so in fact, or no, is more than I can tell, but admitting it true, still is the wise man beholden to nature for having framed his composition in two such distinct compartments; and he owes the preservation of his best property to the laws she has kindly provided for securing it against damage from that part of his mechanism which does not lie under his absolute command. Neither is he little beholden to fortune for supplying him with materials and opportunities of exercising his wisdom, which render it more serviceable to others and productive of enjoyment to himself than it could be without those assistances.

12. But whatever condition the consummate wise man may stand in, we who only make distant advances towards his perfection, cannot pretend to self-sufficiency, nor claim the merit of every little success we meet with as all our own for we find our pittance of virtue improve and kept alive by exercise, but when this exercise is interrupted for want of proper subjects to work upon, or our minds thrown off the hinge by cross accidents, or our discretion beguiled by temptations, we perceive ourselves retarded, if not thrown backward in our progress. Let us then acknowledge our obligation to nature, as well for the good she has already done us, as for the continuance of it by her salutary establishments, and own ourselves dependent upon fortune for the favors we may still hope for at her hands, leaving however, like wise generals, as little to her disposal as possible: and nothing will better put us in a way of being befriended by her when favorable, or shelter us from her attacks when she proves out of humor, than such degree of moral prudence as we are capable of attaining.

CHAP. XXXI.

FORTITUDE.

Or all the obstacles standing in our way, when disposed to act right, none operates so powerfully as fear: other passions beguile or tire us out, but this stops us short in our career; therefore the conquest of this passion has been made one of the cardinal virtues. It is not easy to fix upon a proper definition of this virtue : at first thought one should be apt to call it a habit of fearlessness, but every absence of fear is not courage; for it may proceed from

ignorance of the danger, as when a child goes to play with the muzzle of a loaded musket; or it may arise from an insensibility of temper, for there are people who see their danger, but want feeling enough to be touched by it. Now we must acknowledge this insensibility a very useful quality to the public, for without it, perhaps, we could not properly man our fleets nor recruit our armies: yet is it so far from deserving the name of virtue, that it seems scarce compatible with the principal of them. I mean prudence, which grows out of caution, and ever keeps it in company throughout all her proceedings. Besides that, we find fear a necessary engine to restrain many inordinate desires and unruly passions that would else make strange havoc and disorder in the world and if the intrepidity of pirates and banditti could be wrested from them, it would be much better both for themselves and all others within their reach.

2. This fearlessness of temper depends upon natural constitution, as much as any quality we can possess; for where the animal system is strong and robust, it is easily acquired, but when the nerves are weak, and extremely sensible, they fall presently into tremors that throw the mind off the hinges and cast a confusion over her. Nor are the changes in our disposition of body without their influence: old age abates the spirit; men have their ebbs and flows of bravery, and some distempers bring a mechanical terror upon the imagination. It has been observed, that courage may be partial, dauntless to some objects, and gone upon the appearance of others. Mr. Addison tells us he knew an officer who could march up to the mouth of a cannon, but affrighted at his own shadow, and unable to bear being left alone in the dark. Such contrariety of character must have been owing to impressions taken in his youth; and indeed courage as well as timorousness may come by sympathy and imitation from the company wherewith men consort: the recruit becomes intrepid by the dauntless looks and discourses of his comrades, and their taunts. upon cowardice, he improves better this way, than he could do by all the lectures of philosophy aided by his own utmost industry. Courage, from whatever cause arising, may be ranked under those inferior virtues mentioned at the beginning of CHAP. XXIX. which spring indifferently from nature, education, custom, or our own diligence: nor is it the less intrinsically valuable, because sometimes turned to mischievous purposes, for the best things corrupted become the worst. It gains admiration and applause more than the rest, for fear being the most difficult passion to overcome, therefore the conquest of it deserves to be most honored, because honor, as we have already seen under that article, belongs not

only to things the most useful, but to those where the honor itself will be of the greatest use as it certainly will here, for nothing carries men so effectually through danger as a quick sense of honor, which therefore has always been looked upon as the necessary qualification and distinguishing characteristic of a soldier. Yet courage, to deserve the name of virtue in any degree, must be habitual, not owing to insensibility; for the danger must be seen but despised; nor accidental, or occasioned by the prevalence of any passion. Some folks are mighty valiant in their cups, others in the heat of resentment care not what becomes of themselves so they can but wreak their revenge; others again, eagerly bent upon some foolish desire, will run any hazards to gratify it: in all these cases their courage is not their own, but cast upon them by another agent working upon their organs, and is rather a mark of stupidity, or weakness of mind, than of bravery.

3. From what has been observed above, we may gather the true notion of fortitude, and having seen what it is not, may more easily discover what it is. The contempt of danger, when owing to the want of apprehension, thoughtlessness, or to some other idea forcibly occupying the thought, carries no merit at all: when the effect of constitution, education, or the desire of applause, has become habitual, it deserves the name of virtue, and our commendation as such: but to entitle it a cardinal virtue, it must be a branch of prudence, which we have seen consists in discerning all the lights of our understanding as they present from time to time before us. Therefore he that possesses fortitude completely, will enjoy a perpetual presence of mind; nothing will ruffle or discompose him, but he will proceed in an equal tenor, not having his seasons of failing, nor particular objects to start at; the dread of shame will no more disconcert him than other evils; he will regard consequences in order to take his measures accordingly, but rest wholly unconcerned at the event; he will suffer no idea to intrude upon him against his liking, and will have the absolute command of his notice to fix it upon any point he judges proper. Etymologists derive virtue from virility, supposing it to denote a manly strength and vigor of mind: now vigor will naturally exert itself in throwing off everything displeasing or unwelcome; and as a concern for sinister events, further than requisite in directing us to provide against them, and the dazzle of objects preventing the sight of others that lie before us, are what everybody would wish to avoid, when ideas intrude forcibly upon the mind, it proves her infirmity and inability to resist them. Thus the being master of our thoughts, having the perfect use of our discernment, and all that authority over our mental organs which they are ca

pable of obeying, constitutes prudence; and that branch of it relating to terrible ideas is understood by fortitude, which though not the less for being aided by nature, custom or other causes, yet is not complete until it can operate without them.

4. But in order to render this command of our ideas complete, it is necessary that present evils should be no more capable of discomposing us than the apprehension of them at a distance; for if we can face danger while aloof, but shrink under mischiefs when actually falling upon us, it argues a feebleness of our ideas rather than the strength of our mind. Therefore patience has always been esteemed a species of fortitude, enabling us to bear pain, labor, indignity, affliction, disappointment, and whatever else is irksome to human nature. I will not undertake to determine whether these may be rendered quite harmless, so as not to hurt at all yet if there be any salve to prevent their galling, patience is certainly the thing, which whoever possesses completely, if he cannot escape suffering by them, yet he will be able to divert his thoughts in great measure upon other objects: for he will never be thrown off his basis, nor permit them so to obscure the notices of his judgment, as that he cannot find something proper to be done upon the present occasion, which may in part, at least, engage his attention. Nay, he will very often prevail to fix it wholly upon the measures of his conduct; in which case, he will relieve himself entirely; for when we can forbear attending to uneasiness, it vanishes, which made some imagine it lay solely in opinion. When the mind has gotten this habitual command over her motions, she will exercise it, I conceive, for I can do no more than conjecture, with ease, freedom, and readiness, and without variation. But for us learners in the art we must expect to meet many difficulties, which we cannot surmount, nor hope to make any improvement without frequently exerting our utmost resolution: nor should we disdain to avail ourselves of example, company, shame, argumentation, or any other helps that may advance us forward. But to make the most of our resolution, it will be requsite to know the strength of it, that we may not put it upon more than it will perform: because repeated ill success may drive to despair, and damp the spirits instead of raising them. It will be expedient to take all opportunities of increasing what little courage or patience we have, to examine in what particulars we are defective, and what feasible methods we have of remedying that defect, thus keeping our resolution in continual exercise; for every habit and every power of our nature gathers strength by being exercised. With such good management, and a vigilant but judicious use of the strength we have, we shall be continual

advancing forwards by little and little and the acquisition of any of those inferior virtues spoken of in § 2, will bring us so much nearer to perfection; for if it were possible to attain every one, I imagine the aggregate of them all would make that fortitude we are in quest of.

5. Intrepidity in the day of battle, is not the only species of courage, for I suppose many a brave officer might not be able to walk upon a wall like our common bricklayers; which shows he has not an absolute command over his ideas, since some of them will intrude so far upon his judgment as to make him throw himself down for fear of falling. The art of walking upon walls is scarce necessary for those who do not intend to follow the trade of a bricklayer, for they may find other objects whereon to exercise their resolution to better advantage; therefore I do not recommend it anybody to learn until he has completed himself in all other branches of knowledge: but I apprehend the ideal sage, having a perfect mastery over his imagination, would upon occasion run along the ridge of a house as securely as he could upon the same tiles ranged along his chamber floor; and would likewise, where it were necessary, bear any filthy discourse, noisome smell, or nastiness besmearing him, without squeamishness or of fence to his delicacy. But besides natural terrors which may seize anybody upon first trial, before they have hardened themselves by custom, there are others which gather like rust upon the imaginations of particular people, making them distrust their own senses, and afraid that some sudden impulse should drive them upon extravagant actions, though they have never yet done any such, and have the strongest intention to avoid them. I know a very sensible man, who once scrupled to take a bank note into his hand for fear he should throw it into the fire: another unwilling to go near a precipice, lest he should have an inclination to throw himself down. I have heard of a lady that terrified herself when going a visiting, with a notion that she might tumble down on entering the room, or say something very rude; and I myself when a boy, having occasion to retire to some private corner, have been sometimes grievously disturbed, lest I should be still in a room full of company, and only fancied I had left them. I am apt to suspect there are more of these whimsies in the world than one hears of, for people are shy of betraying their foibles, and it is but by chance after being very intimate, that one gets any such confession out of them. These little distempers of mind may proceed from too great intenseness of thought; for as hard labor brings a trembling and weakness upon the nerves until refreshed by rest, so the organs of attention being overstrained, become un