Repeatedly does Shakespeare assert that we are useful or useless
members of society according as we will it ourselves.
Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie
Which we ascribe to heaven; the fated sky
Gives us free scope,
says Helena in _All's Well_ (I., i., 231-3).
Men at some time are masters of their fates,
says Cassius in _Julius Caesar_ (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.
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