It is a little difficult to make a clear picture of courage that is physical, as distinguished from courage that is moral; or moral as distinguished from physical.  Courage seems to be a quality so clearly marked as to be hardly qualifiable by any adjective except an adjective indicating degree—­such as “great” or “little”; but if any other adjective may be applied to it, the adjective “moral” seems to be the only one.  For courage, no matter how or why displayed, is from its very essence, moral.  Strictly speaking, how can there be any courage except moral courage?  If a man braves death or physical suffering, the quality that enables him to brave it is certainly not physical; certainly it does not pertain to the physical body.  The “first law of nature” impels him to escape or yield; and it impels him with a powerful force.  If this force be not successfully resisted, the man will yield.

Now the act of resisting a temptation to escape a physical danger is due to a more or less conscious desire to preserve one’s self-respect and the respect of one’s fellow men; and therefore, the best way in which to train a man to be brave is to cultivate his self-respect and a desire to have the respect of his fellow men; and to foster the idea that he will lose both if he acts in a cowardly way.

Naturally, some men are more apt to be cowards as regards physical dangers than are others; and men differ greatly in this way.  Men of rugged physique, dull imagination, and sluggish nerves are not so prone to fear of physical danger, especially danger far ahead in the future, as are men of delicate physique, keen imagination, and highly strung nervous system; and yet men of the latter class sometimes surpass men of the former class when the danger actually arrives—­they seem to have prepared themselves for it, when men of the former class seem in a measure to be taken by surprise.

It is the attainment of physical courage, or courage to defy a threat of physical injury, that military training aims at.  That it has done so successfully in the past, the history of the valiant deeds of sailors and soldiers bears superabundant witness.  This courage has been brought out because it was essential.  Courage is to a man what strength is to structural materials.  No matter how physically strong and mentally equipped a man may be; no matter how perfectly designed and constructed an engine may be, neither the man nor the engine will “stand up to the work,” unless the courage in the one case, and the strength of the materials in the other case, are adequate to the stress.

While perfect courage would enable a man to approach certain death with equanimity, all that is usually demanded of a man is that he shall dare to risk death, if need be.  To do this successfully, a great assistance is a knowledge that even if things look bad, the danger is not so great as it appears.  Therefore, training confronts men frequently with situations that look dangerous, but which skill and