In looking at it from this somewhat exclusive standpoint, Aristotle refuses to call courageous those who brave sickness and poverty; "for it is possible," he says, "for cowards, in the perils of war, to bear with much firmness the losses of fortune;" nor does he allow to be called courageous "him who firmly meets the strokes of the whip he is threatened with." This is but a question of name and degree. Wherever there are any evils to brave, the firmness which meets and bears these evils can be called courage; on the other hand, the sense of the word can, if preferred, be restricted to military perils; but what Aristotle has most justly defined, and of which he makes a very subtle analysis, is the difference between apparent and true courage. Thus the courage of constraint and necessity--as, for instance, that of soldiers who would be mercilessly killed, if they retreated before the enemy--is not true courage, for one cannot be brave through fear. Nor should anger be confounded with courage: this were but the courage of wild beasts obeying a blind impulse under the sting of pain. At that rate, the donkeys even, when hungry, would be brave. That which determines true courage is the sentiment of honor, not passion. We should neither call brave him who is so only because he feels himself the strongest, like the drunkard full of confidence in the beginning, but who runs away when he does not succeed. For this reason is there truer courage in preserving one's intrepidity and calm in sudden dangers, than in dangers long anticipated.[123] Finally, ignorance cannot be called courage either: to brave a danger one is ignorant of, is only to be apparently brave. Aristotle finds also in courage an excellent opportunity to apply his celebrated theory of the golden mean. Courage is for him a medium between temerity and cowardice. But it is not the too much or too little in danger which determines what we ought to call courage. There are cases where one may be obliged to brave the greatest possible danger without being for that rash; other cases where, on the contrary, one has the right to avoid the least possible peril without being for that a coward. The true principle is that one should brave necessary perils, be they ever so great; and likewise avoid useless perils, be they ever so slight. Yet, the question of degree should not be wholly overlooked. There are some perils which, without being necessary, it is useful to brave (were it but to train one's self for greater ones). Such are, for example, the dangers connected with bodily exercises. Peril and utility must, of course, be compared with each other; for example, he who from considerations of utility would wish to avoid all kinds of perils, will be wanting in courage; and he who, on the contrary, would lightly brave an extreme peril, will naturally deserve to be called rash. Thus must we first consider the nature of the peril, and, secondly, the degree.