From the contrariety of some of the natural faculties of the mind, one to another, as also of one passion to another, and from their reference to conversation, there has been an argument taken, to infer an impossibility that any one man should be sufficiently disposed to all sorts of civil duty. The severity of judgment, they say, makes men censorious, and unapt to pardon the errors and infirmities of other men: and on the other side, celerity of fancy, makes the thoughts less steady than is necessary to discern exactly between right and wrong. Again, in all deliberations, and in all pleadings, the faculty of solid reasoning is necessary; for without it, the resolutions of men are rash, and their sentences unjust: and yet if there be not powerful eloquence, which procureth attention and consent, the effect of reason will belittle. But these are contrary faculties, the former being grounded upon principles of truth, the other upon opinions already received, true or false; and upon the passions and interests of men, which are different and mutable.
And amongst the passions, “courage” (by which I mean the contempt of wounds, and violent death) inclineth men to private revenges, and sometimes to endeavour the unsettling of the public peace; and “timorousness,” many times disposeth to the desertion of the public defence. Both these, they say, cannot stand together in the same person.
And to consider the contrariety of men’s opinions and manners in general, it is, they say, impossible to entertain a constant civil amity with all those with whom the business of the world constrains us to converse; which business consisteth almost in nothing else but a perpetual contention for honour, riches, and authority.
To which I answer, that these are indeed great difficulties, but not impossibilities; for by education and discipline, they may be, and are