CHAPTER XXI

The Benefit of bodily Pain.—Fortitude the Basis of Virtue.—The Folly of

Irresolution.

The children had been playing in the garden for some time, whilst Mrs.

Mason was reading alone. But she was suddenly alarmed by the cries of

Caroline, who ran into the room in great distress. Mary quickly

followed, and explaining the matter said, that her sister had

accidentally disturbed some wasps, who were terrified, and of course

stung her. Remedies were applied to assuage the pain; yet all the time

she uttered the loudest and most silly complaints, regardless of the

uneasiness she gave those who were exerting themselves to relieve her.

In a short time the smart abated, and then her friend thus addressed her,

with more than usual gravity. I am sorry to see a girl of your age weep

on account of bodily pain; it is a proof of a weak mind—a proof that you

cannot employ yourself about things of consequence. How often must I

tell you that the Most High is educating us for eternity?

‘The term virtue, comes from a word signifying strength. Fortitude of

mind is, therefore, the basis of every virtue, and virtue belongs to a

being, that is weak in its nature, and strong only in will and

resolution.’

Children early feel bodily pain, to habituate them to bear the conflicts

of the soul, when they become reasonable creatures. This, I say, is the

first trial, and I like to see that proper pride which strives to conceal

its sufferings. Those who, when young, weep if the least trifle annoys

them, will never, I fear, have sufficient strength of mind, to encounter

all the miseries that can afflict the body, rather than act meanly to

avoid them. Indeed, this seems to be the essential difference between a

great and a little mind: the former knows how to endure—whilst the latter

suffers an immortal soul to be depressed, lost in its abode; suffers the

inconveniences which attack the one to overwhelm the other. The soul

would always support the body, if its superiority was felt, and

invigorated by exercise. The Almighty, who never afflicts but to produce

some good end, first sends diseases to children to teach them patience

and fortitude; and when by degrees they have learned to bear them, they

have acquired some virtue.

In the same manner, cold or hunger, when accidentally encountered, are

not evils; they make _us feel what wretches feel_, and teach us to be

tender-hearted. Many of your fellow-creatures daily bear what you cannot

for a moment endure without complaint. Besides, another advantage arises

from it, after you have felt hunger, you will not be very anxious to

choose the particular kind of food that is to satisfy it. You will then

be freed from a frivolous care.

When it is necessary to take a nauseous draught, swallow it at once, and

do not make others sick whilst you are hesitating, though you know that

you ought to take it. If a tooth is to be drawn, or any other

disagreeable operation to be performed, determine resolutely that it

shall be done immediately; and debate not, when you clearly see the step

that you ought to take. If I see a child act in this way, I am ready to

embrace it, my soul yearns for it—I perceive the dawning of a character

that will be useful to society, as it prepares its soul for a nobler

field of action.

Believe me, it is the patient endurance of pain, that will enable you to

resist your passions; after you have borne bodily pain, you will have

firmness enough to sustain the still more excruciating agonies of the

mind. You will not, to banish momentary cares, plunge into dissipation,

nor to escape a present inconvenience, forget that you should hold fast

virtue as the only substantial good.

I should not value the affection of a person who would not bear pain and

hunger to serve me; nor is that benevolence warm, which shrinks from

encountering difficulties, when it is necessary, in order to be useful to

any fellow-creature.

There is a just pride, a noble ambition in some minds, that I greatly

admire. I have seen a little of it in Mary! for whilst she pities

others, she imagines that she could bear their inconveniences herself;

and she seems to feel more uneasiness, when she observes the sufferings

of others, than I could ever trace on her countenance under the immediate

pressure of pain.

Remember you are to bear patiently the infirmities of the weakest of your

fellow-creatures; but to yourselves you are not to be equally indulgent.

Mary Wollstonecraft's Original Stories · 第 21 / 25 章