Staying Power

Audubon after years of forest life had two hundred of his priceless drawings destroyed by mice.

After years of living in the forest, Audubon had two hundred of his priceless drawings destroyed by mice.

"A poignant flame," he relates, "pierced my brain like an arrow of fire, and for several weeks I was prostrated with fever. At length physical and moral strength awoke within me. Again I took my gun, my game-bag, my portfolio, and my pencils, and plunged once more into the depths of the forests."

“A sharp flame,” he recalls, “pierced my brain like an arrow of fire. For several weeks, a fever left me bedridden. At last, my physical and moral strength returned. I took my gun, game bag, portfolio, and pencils again and plunged back into the depths of the forests.”

All are familiar with the misfortune of Carlyle while writing his "History of the French Revolution." After the first volume was ready for the press, he loaned the manuscript to a neighbor, who left it lying on the floor, and the servant girl took it to kindle the fire. It was a bitter disappointment, but Carlyle was not the man to give up. After many months of poring Over hundreds of volumes of authorities and scores of manuscripts, he reproduced that which had burned in a few minutes.

Everyone knows about Carlyle’s misfortune while writing his "History of the French Revolution." After the first volume was ready for publication, he lent the manuscript to a neighbor. The neighbor left it on the floor, and a servant girl used it to start a fire. It was a bitter disappointment, but Carlyle was not one to give up. He spent many more months studying hundreds of authoritative books and dozens of manuscripts. Then he recreated what had burned in a few minutes.

The slightest acquaintance with literary history would bring to light a multitude of heroes of poverty or misfortune, of men and women perplexed and disheartened, who have yet aroused themselves to new effort at every new obstacle.

Even a little knowledge of literary history reveals many heroes who faced poverty or misfortune. These men and women were often confused and discouraged, yet they found the strength to try again at every new obstacle.

It is related by Arago that he found under the cover of a text book he was binding a short note from D'Alembert to a student:

Arago tells how he found a short note from D'Alembert to a student under the cover of a textbook he was binding:

"Go on, sir, go on. The difficulties you meet with will resolve themselves as you advance. Proceed; and light will dawn, and shine with increasing clearness on your path."

"Keep going, sir, keep going. The difficulties you encounter will resolve themselves as you move forward. Continue, and light will dawn and shine ever more clearly on your path."

"That maxim," said Arago, "was my greatest master in mathematics."

"That maxim," said Arago, "was my greatest teacher in mathematics."

Had Balzac been easily discouraged he would have hesitated at the words of warning given by his father:

If Balzac had been easily discouraged, he would have hesitated when his father warned him:

"Do you know that in literature a man must be either a king or a beggar?"

"Do you know that in literature a man must be either a king or a beggar?"

"Very well," was the reply, "I will be a king."

"All right," came the reply, "I will be a king."

His parents left him to his fate in a garret. For ten years he fought terrible battles with hardship and poverty, but won a great victory at last. He won it after producing forty novels that did not win.

His parents left him to face his fate alone in an attic. For ten years, he struggled terribly against hardship and poverty. But at last, he won a great victory. He won it after writing forty unsuccessful novels.

Zola's early manhood witnessed a bitter struggle against poverty and deprivation. Until twenty he was a spoiled child; but, on his father's death, he and his mother began the battle of life in Paris. Of his dark time, Zola himself says:

As a young man, Zola struggled bitterly with poverty and hardship. Until he was twenty, he had been a spoiled child. But after his father died, he and his mother began their struggle to make a living in Paris. Zola himself says of that dark time:

"Often I went hungry for so long, that it seemed as if I must die. I scarcely tasted meat from one month's end to another, and for two days I lived on three apples. Fire, even on the coldest nights, was an undreamed-of luxury; and I was the happiest man in Paris when I could get a candle, by the light of which I might study at night."

"Often I went hungry for so long that I felt as if I would die. I barely tasted meat for months at a time, and for two days I lived on three apples. A fire was a luxury I could not dream of, even on the coldest nights. I was the happiest man in Paris when I could get a candle to study by at night."

Samuel Johnson's bare feet at Oxford showed through the holes in his shoes, yet he threw out at his window the new pair that some one left at his door. He lived for a time in London on nine cents a day. For thirteen years he had a hard struggle with want. John Locke once lived on bread and water in a Dutch garret, and Heyne slept many a night on a barn floor with only a book for his pillow. It was to poverty as a thorn urging the breast of Harriet Martineau that we owe her writings.

At Oxford, Samuel Johnson's bare feet showed through the holes in his shoes. Yet when someone left a new pair at his door, he threw them out the window. For a time, he lived in London on nine cents a day. For thirteen years, he struggled with poverty. John Locke once lived on bread and water in a Dutch attic. Heyne spent many nights sleeping on a barn floor, with only a book for a pillow. We owe Harriet Martineau's writings to poverty, which drove her on like a thorn pressed against her breast.

There are no more interesting pages in biography than those which record how Emerson, as a child, was unable to read the second volume of a certain book, because his widowed mother could not afford the amount (five cents) necessary to obtain it from the circulating library.

Few pages in biography are more interesting than those describing Emerson's childhood. He could not read the second volume of a certain book because his widowed mother could not afford the five cents needed to borrow it from the library.

"Poor fellow!" said Emerson, as he looked at his delicately-reared little son, "how much he loses by not having to go through the hard experiences I had in my youth."

"Poor fellow!" Emerson said as he looked at his sheltered little son. "How much he misses by not having to go through the hardships I faced when I was young."

It was through the necessity laid upon him to earn that Emerson made his first great success in life as a teacher. "I know," he said, "no such unquestionable badge and ensign of a sovereign mind as that tenacity of purpose, which, through all change of companions or parties or fortunes, changes never, bates no jot of heart or hope, but wearies out opposition and arrives at its port."

Emerson needed to earn a living, and this led to his first great success as a teacher. "I know of no clearer sign of a sovereign mind than this kind of determination," he said. "It never changes, no matter how companions, parties, or fortunes change. It loses none of its courage or hope, but wears down opposition and reaches its destination."

Louisa Alcott earned two hundred thousand dollars by her pen. Yet, when she was first dreaming of her power, her father handed her a manuscript one day that had been rejected by Mr. Fields, editor of the "Atlantic," with the message:

Louisa Alcott earned two hundred thousand dollars from her writing. But early on, when she was just beginning to dream of her talent, her father handed her a manuscript. Mr. Fields, editor of the "Atlantic," had rejected it with the message:

"Tell Louisa to stick to her teaching; she can never succeed as a writer."

"Tell Louisa to stick to teaching. She can never succeed as a writer."

"Tell him I will succeed as a writer, and some day I shall write for the 'Atlantic.'"

"Tell him I will succeed as a writer, and someday I'll write for the 'Atlantic.'"

Not long after she wrote for the "Atlantic" a poem that Longfellow attributed to Emerson. And there came a time when she wrote in her diary:

Not long afterward, she wrote a poem for the "Atlantic" that Longfellow thought was by Emerson. Later, she wrote in her diary:

"Twenty years ago I resolved to make the family independent if I could. At forty, that is done. Debts all paid, even the outlawed ones, and we have enough to be comfortable. It has cost me my health, perhaps."

"Twenty years ago, I decided to make my family financially independent if I could. Now, at forty, I have done it. All our debts are paid, even those that could no longer be legally collected. We have enough to live comfortably. Perhaps it has cost me my health."

So it was said by Lord Chatham. "Why," asked Mirabeau, "should we call ourselves men, unless it be to succeed in everything everywhere?"

That is what Lord Chatham said. Mirabeau asked, "Why should we call ourselves men unless we succeed in everything, everywhere?"

"It is all very well," said Charles J. Fox, "to tell me that a young man has distinguished himself by a brilliant first speech. He may go on satisfied with his first triumph; but show me a young man who has not succeeded at first, and has then gone on, and I will back that man to do better than those who succeeded at the first trial." Cobden broke down completely the first time he appeared on a platform in Manchester, and the chairman apologized for him; but he did not give up speaking until every poor man in England had a larger, better, and cheaper loaf. Young Disraeli sprung from a hated and persecuted race, pushed his way up through the middle classes and upper classes, until he stood self-poised upon the topmost round of political and social power. At first he was scoffed at, ridiculed, rebuffed, hissed from the House of Commons; he simply said, "The time will come when you will hear me." The time did come, and he swayed the sceptre of England for a quarter of a century.

"It is all very well," said Charles J. Fox, "to tell me that a young man has impressed everyone with a brilliant first speech. He may remain satisfied with his first triumph. But show me a young man who has failed at first and then kept going. I will bet on that man to do better than those who succeeded on their first try." Cobden broke down completely the first time he spoke on a platform in Manchester, and the chairman apologized for him. But he kept speaking until every poor man in England had a larger, better, and cheaper loaf of bread. Young Disraeli came from a hated and persecuted race. He pushed his way up through the middle and upper classes until he stood confidently at the very top of political and social power. At first, he was mocked, ridiculed, rebuffed, and hissed out of the House of Commons. He simply said, "The time will come when you will hear me." That time did come, and he held power over England for a quarter of a century.

How massive was the incalculable reserve power of Lincoln as a youth; or of President Garfield, wood-chopper, bell-ringer, and sweeper-general in college!

How vast was the immeasurable reserve of strength in Lincoln as a young man! The same was true of President Garfield, who chopped wood, rang bells, and swept throughout his college.

We hear a great deal of talk about genius, talent, luck, chance, cleverness, and fine manners playing a large part in one's success. Leaving out luck and chance, all these elements are important factors. Yet the possession of any or all of them, unaccompanied by a definite aim, a determined purpose, will not insure success. Men drift into business. They drift into society. They drift into politics. They drift into what they fondly and but vainly imagine is religion. If winds and tides are favorable, all is well; if not, all is wrong. Stalker says: "Most men merely drift through life, and the work they do is determined by a hundred different circumstances; they might as well be doing anything else, or they would prefer to be doing nothing at all." Yet whatever else may have been lacking in the giants of the race, the men who have been conspicuously successful have all had one characteristic in common--doggedness and persistence of purpose.

We hear a great deal about the role of genius, talent, luck, chance, cleverness, and good manners in success. Leaving aside luck and chance, all these qualities are important. Yet none of them, alone or together, can ensure success without a clear aim and a determined purpose. Men drift into business. They drift into society. They drift into politics. They drift into what they like to imagine is religion, though it is not. If the winds and tides are favorable, all is well. If not, all is wrong. Stalker says: "Most men simply drift through life. A hundred different circumstances determine the work they do. They might just as well be doing anything else, or they would prefer to do nothing at all." Yet whatever else the greatest men may have lacked, those who have been notably successful have all shared one trait: a stubborn and persistent sense of purpose.

It does not matter how clever a youth may be, whether he leads his class in college or outshines all the other boys in his community, he will never succeed if he lacks this essential of determined persistence. Many men who might have made brilliant musicians, artists, teachers, lawyers, able physicians or surgeons, in spite of predictions to the contrary, have fallen short of success because deficient in this quality.

No matter how clever a young man is, he will never succeed without determined persistence. He may lead his college class or outshine all the other boys in his community. But he still needs that persistence. Many men could have become brilliant musicians, artists, teachers, lawyers, physicians, or surgeons. But despite predictions that they would succeed, they fell short because they lacked this quality.

Persistency of purpose is a power. It creates confidence in others. Everybody believes in the determined man. When he undertakes anything his battle is half won, because not only he himself, but every one who knows him, believes that he will accomplish whatever he sets out to do. People know that it is useless to oppose a man who uses his stumbling-blocks as stepping-stones; who is not afraid of defeat; who never, in spite of calumny or criticism, shrinks from his task; who never shirks responsibility; who always keeps his compass pointed to the north star of his purpose, no matter what storms may rage about him.

Persistence is a source of power. It inspires confidence in others. Everyone believes in a determined man. When he takes on a task, his battle is half won. He believes he will accomplish whatever he sets out to do, and so does everyone who knows him. People know it is useless to oppose a man who turns stumbling blocks into stepping stones. He is not afraid of defeat. Despite slander or criticism, he never backs away from his task. He never avoids responsibility. He always keeps his compass pointed toward the north star of his purpose, no matter what storms rage around him.

The persistent man never stops to consider whether he is succeeding or not. The only question with him is how to push ahead, to get a little farther along, a little nearer his goal. Whether it lead over mountains, rivers, or morasses, he must reach it. Every other consideration is sacrificed to this one dominant purpose.

The persistent man never stops to consider whether he is succeeding. His only question is how to push ahead, to get a little farther along and a little closer to his goal. He must reach it, whether the path leads over mountains, rivers, or swamps. He sacrifices every other concern to this one overriding purpose.

The success of a dull or average youth and the failure of a brilliant one is a constant surprise in American history. But if the different cases are closely analyzed we shall find that the explanation lies in the staying power of the seemingly dull boy, the ability to stand firm as a rock under all circumstances, to allow nothing to divert him from his purpose.

It is a constant surprise in American history when an average or dull young person succeeds and a brilliant one fails. But if we look closely at each case, we find the explanation in the seemingly dull boy’s staying power. He can stand firm as a rock in all circumstances and let nothing divert him from his purpose.

"Three things are necessary," said Charles Sumner, "first, backbone; second, backbone; third, backbone."

"Three things are necessary," said Charles Sumner: "First, backbone. Second, backbone. Third, backbone."

A good chance alone is nothing. Education is nothing without strong and vigorous resolution and stamina to make one accomplish something in the world. An encouraging start is nothing without backbone. A man who cannot stand erect, who wabbles first one way and then the other, who has no opinion of his own, or courage to think his own thought, is of very little use in this world. It is grit, it is perseverance, it is moral stamina and courage that govern the world.

A good opportunity alone is nothing. Education is nothing without the strong determination and stamina needed to accomplish something in the world. A promising start is nothing without backbone. A man who cannot stand firm, who wavers from one side to the other, is of very little use in this world. The same is true of a man who has no opinions of his own or lacks the courage to think for himself. Grit, perseverance, moral stamina, and courage are what govern the world.

At the trial of the seven bishops of the Church of England for refusing to aid the king to overthrow the Protestant faith, it was necessary to watch the officers at the doors, lest they send food to some juryman, and aid him to starve the others into an agreement. Nothing was allowed to be sent in but water for the jurymen to wash in, and they were so thirsty they drank it up. At first nine were for acquitting, and three for convicting. Two of the minority soon gave way; the third, Arnold, was obstinate. He declined to argue. Austin said to him, "Look at me. I am the largest and the strongest of the twelve; and before I will find such a petition as this libel, here will I stay till I am no bigger than a tobacco pipe." Arnold yielded at six in the morning.

Seven bishops of the Church of England were tried for refusing to help the king overthrow the Protestant faith. During the trial, the officers at the doors had to be watched. Otherwise, they might send food to a juror and help him starve the others into agreement. Nothing was allowed into the jury room except water for the jurors to wash with. They were so thirsty that they drank it all. At first, nine wanted to acquit and three wanted to convict. Two of the three soon gave way, but the third, Arnold, was stubborn. He refused to argue. Austin said to him, "Look at me. I am the largest and strongest of the twelve. Before I find a petition like this to be libel, I will stay here until I am no bigger than a tobacco pipe." Arnold gave in at six in the morning.

Success is not measured by what a man accomplishes, but by the opposition he has encountered, and the courage with which he has maintained the struggle against overwhelming odds. Not the distance we have run, but the obstacles we have overcome, the disadvantages under which we have made the race, will decide the prizes.

Success is not measured by what a person accomplishes. It is measured by the opposition they have faced and the courage they have shown in struggling against overwhelming odds. The prizes will not be decided by how far we have run, but by the obstacles we have overcome and the disadvantages we have faced in the race.

"It is defeat," says Henry Ward Beecher, "that turns bone to flint, and gristle to muscle, and makes men invincible, and formed those heroic natures that are now in ascendency in the world. Do not, then, be afraid of defeat. You are never so near to victory as when defeated in a good cause."

"Defeat," says Henry Ward Beecher, "turns bone to flint and gristle to muscle. It makes men invincible and has shaped those heroic natures who now lead the world. So do not be afraid of defeat. You are never closer to victory than when you are defeated in a good cause."

Governor Seymour of New York, a man of great force and character, said, in reviewing his life: "If I were to wipe out twenty acts, what should they be? Should it be my business mistakes, my foolish acts (for I suppose all do foolish acts occasionally), my grievances? No; for, after all, these are the very things by which I have profited. So I finally concluded I should expunge, instead of my mistakes, my triumphs. I could not afford to dismiss the tonic of mortification, the refinement of sorrow; I needed them every one."

Governor Seymour of New York was a man of great strength and character. Looking back on his life, he said: "If I could erase twenty acts, which ones would I choose? Would I choose my business mistakes or my foolish acts? I suppose everyone acts foolishly at times. Would I choose my grievances? No. After all, these are the very things I have learned from. So I finally decided I would erase my triumphs instead of my mistakes. I could not afford to lose the strengthening effect of humiliation or the refining effect of sorrow. I needed every one of them."

"Every condition, be it what it may," says Channing, "has hardships, hazards, pains. We try to escape them; we pine for a sheltered lot, for a smooth path, for cheering friends, and unbroken success. But Providence ordains storms, disasters, hostilities, sufferings; and the great question whether we shall live to any purpose or not, whether we shall grow strong in mind and heart, or be weak and pitiable, depends on nothing so much as on our use of the adverse circumstances. Outward evils are designed to school our passions, and to rouse our faculties and virtues into intenser action. Sometimes they seem to create new powers. Difficulty is the element, and resistance the true work of man. Self-culture never goes on so fast as when embarrassed circumstances, the opposition of men or the elements, unexpected changes of the times, or other forms of suffering, instead of disheartening, throw us on our inward resources, turn us for strength to God, clear up to us the great purpose of life, and inspire calm resolution. No greatness or goodness is worth much, unless tried in these fires."

“Every situation, whatever it may be,” says Channing, “has hardships, dangers, and pains. We try to escape them. We long for a sheltered life, an easy path, encouraging friends, and constant success. But Providence ordains storms, disasters, hostility, and suffering. Will we live with purpose? Will we grow strong in mind and heart, or become weak and pitiable? The answers depend above all on how we use adversity. Troubles in the world are meant to discipline our passions and stir our abilities and virtues into more intense action. Sometimes they seem to create new powers. Difficulty is our natural element, and resistance is our true work. We develop ourselves fastest when difficult circumstances, opposition from people or the elements, unexpected changes in the times, or other forms of suffering do not discourage us. Instead, they make us draw on our inner resources and turn to God for strength. They make the great purpose of life clear to us and inspire calm determination. No greatness or goodness is worth much unless it has been tested in these fires.”