Men at some time are masters of their fates,
says Cassius in Julius Cæsar (I., ii., 139-41);
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves that we are underlings.
Hereditary predispositions, the accidents of environment, are not insuperable; they can be neutralised by force of will, by character. Character is omnipotent.
The self-sufficing, imperturbable will is the ideal possession, beside which all else in the world is valueless. But the quest of it is difficult, and success in the pursuit is rare. Mastery of the will is the result of a rare conjunction—a perfect commingling of blood and judgment. Without such harmonious union man is "a pipe"—a musical instrument—"for Fortune's finger to sound what stop she pleases." Man can only work out his own salvation when he can control his passions and can take with equal thanks Fortune's buffets or rewards.
The best of men is—
Spare in diet
Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger,
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood.
(Henry V., II., ii., 131-3.)
His is
the nature
Whom passion could not shake—whose solid virtue
The shot of accident nor dart of chance
Could neither graze nor pierce.
(Othello, IV., i., 176-9.)
Stability of temperament is the finest fruit of the free exercise of the will; it is the noblest of masculine excellences.