Virtue allies itself to all the ideas which can give extent to our mind, and early in life accustoms us to discern relations, and to sacrifice frequently our present affections to distant considerations; it is, of all our sentiments, that which carries us farthest out of ourselves, and consequently has the nearest resemblance with abstract thinking. It is then, through the assistance of virtue, that a man acquires all his knowledge of his strength and all his grandeur. Vice, on the contrary, concentres us in a little space; it seems to be conscious of its own deformity, and fears all that surrounds it; it endeavours to fix on a single object, on a single moment, and would wish to have power to draw into a point our whole existence. I must still add, that virtue, by uniting a motive to all our actions, and by directing towards an end all our sentiments, habituates our mind to order, and justness of conception; and prevents our wandering in too great a space: thus I have often thought, that it was not only by his vices, that an immoral man is dangerous in the administration of public affairs; we ought to fear him also as unable to comprehend a whole, and for his want of capacity to rally all his thoughts and direct them towards any general principle: every kind of harmony is unknown to him, every rule is become a burthen; he is busy, but only by starts; and it is by accident that a man, always versatile, stumbles on what is right. It may then truly be said, that morality serves as ballast to our sentiments, its aid enables us to go on without being agitated continually by the caprices of our imagination, without being obliged to turn back at the first appearance of an obstacle. Virtue then enlarges the mind, gives dignity to the character, and invests it with every thing becoming. Of all the qualities of men, the most rare, the most apt to create respect, is, that elevation of thought, sentiment, and manners; that majestic consistency of character which truth alone can preserve, but which the least exaggeration, the most trivial affectation, would disconcert or banish. This resembles not pride, and still less vanity, as one of its ornaments is, that it never seeks for the homage of others: the man endowed with real dignity, is placed above even his judges; he accounts not with them, he lives under the government of his conscience, and, proud of such a noble ruler, he does not wish for any other dependence: but as this grandeur is entirely within himself, it ceases to exist, when he dictates to others what he expects from them; it can only be restrained in its just limits by virtues which do not pretend to dazzle.