PERSONALITY AS A SUCCESS ASSET
There is something about one's personality which eludes the
photographer, which the painter can not reproduce, which the sculptor
can not chisel. This subtle something which every one feels, but which
no one can describe, which no biographer ever put down in a book, has a
great deal to do with one's success in life.
It is this indescribable quality, which some persons have in a
remarkable degree, which sets an audience wild at the mention of the
name of a Blaine or a Lincoln,--which makes people applaud beyond the
bounds of enthusiasm. It was this peculiar atmosphere which made Clay
the idol of his constituents. Although, perhaps, Calhoun was a greater
man, he never aroused any such enthusiasm as "the mill-boy of the
slashes." Webster and Sumner were great men, but they did not arouse a
tithe of the spontaneous enthusiasm evoked by men like Blaine and Clay.
A historian says that, in measuring Kossuth's influence over the
masses, "we must first reckon with the orator's physical bulk, and then
carry the measuring line above his atmosphere." If we had discernment
fine enough and tests delicate enough, we could not only measure the
personal atmosphere of individuals, but could also make more accurate
estimates concerning the future possibilities of schoolmates and young
friends. We are often misled as to the position they are going to
occupy from the fact that we are apt to take account merely of their
ability, and do not reckon this personal atmosphere or magnetic power
as a part of their success-capital. Yet this individual atmosphere has
quite as much to do with one's advancement as brain-power or education.
Indeed, we constantly see men of mediocre ability but with fine
personal presence, superb manner, and magnetic qualities, being rapidly
advanced over the heads of those who are infinitely their superiors in
mental endowments.
A good illustration of the influence of personal atmosphere is found in
the orator who carries his audience with him like a whirlwind, while he
is delivering his speech, and yet so little of this personal element
adheres to his cold words in print that those who read them are
scarcely moved at all. The influence of such speakers depends almost
wholly upon their presence,--the atmosphere that emanates from them.
They are much larger than anything they say or do.
Certain personalities are greater than mere physical beauty and more
powerful than learning. Charm of personality is a divine gift that
sways the strongest characters, and sometimes even controls the
destinies of nations.
We are unconsciously influenced by people who possess this magnetic
power. The moment we come into their presence we have a sense of
enlargement. They unlock within us possibilities of which we
previously had no conception. Our horizon broadens; we feel a new
power stirring through all our being; we experience a sense of relief,
as if a great weight which long had pressed upon us had been removed.
We can converse with such people in a way that astonishes us, although
meeting them, perhaps, for the first time. We express ourselves more
clearly and eloquently than we believed we could. They draw out the
best that is in us; they introduce us, as it were, to our larger,
better selves. With their presence, impulses and longings come
thronging to our minds which never stirred us before. All at once life
takes on a higher and nobler meaning, and we are fired with a desire to
do more than we have ever before done, and to be more than we have been
in the past.
A few minutes before, perhaps, we were sad and discouraged, when,
suddenly, the flashlight of a potent personality of this kind has
opened a rift in our lives and revealed to us hidden capabilities.
Sadness gives place to joy, despair to hope, and disheartenment to
encouragement. We have been touched to finer issues; we have caught a
glimpse of higher ideals; and, for the moment, at least, have been
transformed. The old commonplace life, with its absence of purpose and
endeavor, has dropped out of sight, and we resolve, with better heart
and newer hope, to struggle to make permanently ours the forces and
potentialities that have been revealed to us.
Even a momentary contact with a character of this kind seems to double
our mental and soul powers, as two great dynamos double the current
which passes over the wire, and we are loath to leave the magical
presence lest we lose our new-born power.
On the other hand, we frequently meet people who make us shrivel and
shrink into ourselves. The moment they come near us we experience a
cold chill, as if a blast of winter had struck us in midsummer. A
blighting, narrowing sensation, which seems to make us suddenly
smaller, passes over us. We feel a decided loss of power, of
possibility. We could no more smile in their presence than we could
laugh while at a funeral. Their gloomy miasmatic atmosphere chills all
our natural impulses. In their presence there is no possibility of
expansion for us. As a dark cloud suddenly obscures the brightness of
a smiling summer sky, their shadows are cast upon us and fill us with
vague, undefinable uneasiness.
We instinctively feel that such people have no sympathy with our
aspirations, and our natural prompting is to guard closely any
expression of our hopes and ambitions. When they are near us our
laudable purposes and desires shrink into insignificance and mere
foolishness; the charm of sentiment vanishes and life seems to lose
color and zest. The effect of their presence is paralyzing, and we
hasten from it as soon as possible.
If we study these two types of personality, we shall find that the
chief difference between them is that the first loves his kind, and the
latter does not. Of course, that rare charm of manner which captivates
all those who come within the sphere of its influence, and that strong
personal magnetism which inclines all hearts toward its fortunate
possessor, are largely natural gifts. But we shall find that the man
who practises unselfishness, who is genuinely interested in the welfare
of others, who feels it a privilege to have the power to do a
fellow-creature a kindness,--even though polished manners and a
gracious presence may be conspicuous by their absence,--will be an
elevating influence wherever he goes. He will bring encouragement to
and uplift every life that touches his. He will be trusted and loved
by all who come in contact with him. This type of personality we may
all cultivate if we will.
Magnetic personality is intangible. This mysterious something, which
we sometimes call individuality, is often more powerful than the
ability which can be measured, or the qualities that can be rated.
Many women are endowed with this magnetic quality, which is entirely
independent of personal beauty. It is often possessed in a high degree
by very plain women. This was notably the case with some of the women
who ruled in the French _salons_ more absolutely than the king on his
throne.
At a social gathering, when conversation drags, and interest is at a
low ebb, the entrance of some bright woman with a magnetic personality
instantly changes the whole situation. She may not be handsome, but
everybody is attracted; it is a privilege to speak to her.
People who possess this rare quality are frequently ignorant of the
source of their power. They simply know they have it, but can not
locate or describe it. While it is, like poetry, music, or art, a gift
of nature, born in one, it can be cultivated to a certain extent.
Much of the charm of a magnetic personality comes from a fine,
cultivated manner. Tact, also, is a very important element,--next to a
fine manner, perhaps the most important. One must know exactly what to
do, and be able to do just the right thing at the proper time. Good
judgment and common sense are indispensable to those who are trying to
acquire this magic power. Good taste is also one of the elements of
personal charm. You can not offend the tastes of others without
hurting their sensibilities.
One of the greatest investments one can make is that of attaining a
gracious manner, cordiality of bearing, generosity of feeling,--the
delightful art of pleasing. It is infinitely better than money
capital, for all doors fly open to sunny, pleasing personalities. They
are more than welcome; they are sought for everywhere.
Many a youth owes his promotion or his first start in life to the
disposition to be accommodating, to help along wherever he could. This
was one of Lincoln's chief characteristics; he had a passion for
helping people, for making himself agreeable under all circumstances.
Mr. Herndon, his law partner, says: "When the Rutledge Tavern, where
Lincoln boarded, was crowded, he would often give up his bed, and sleep
on the counter in his store with a roll of calico for his pillow.
Somehow everybody in trouble turned to him for help." This generous
desire to assist others and to return kindnesses especially endeared
Lincoln to the people.
The power to please is a tremendous asset. What can be more valuable
than a personality which always attracts, never repels? It is not only
valuable in business, but also in every field of life. It makes
statesmen and politicians, it brings clients to the lawyer, and
patients to the physician. It is worth everything to the clergyman.
No matter what career you enter, you can not overestimate the
importance of cultivating that charm of manner, those personal
qualities, which attract people to you. They will take the place of
capital, or influence. They are often a substitute for a large amount
of hard work.
Some men attract business, customers, clients, patients, as naturally
as magnets attract particles of steel. Everything seems to point their
way, for the same reason that the steel particles point toward the
magnet,--because they are attracted.
Such men are business magnets. Business moves toward them, even when
they do not apparently make half so much effort to get it as the less
successful. Their friends call them "lucky dogs." But if we analyze
these men closely, we find that they have attractive qualities. There
is usually some charm of personality about them that wins all hearts.
Many successful business and professional men would be surprised, if
they should analyze their success, to find what a large percentage of
it is due to their habitual courtesy and other popular qualities. Had
it not been for these, their sagacity, long-headedness, and business
training would not, perhaps, have amounted to half so much; for, no
matter how able a man may be, if his coarse, rude manners drive away
clients, patients, or customers, if his personality repels, he will
always be placed at a disadvantage.
It pays to cultivate popularity. It doubles success possibilities,
develops manhood, and builds up character. To be popular, one must
strangle selfishness, he must keep back his bad tendencies, he must be
polite, gentlemanly, agreeable, and companionable. In trying to be
popular, he is on the road to success and happiness as well. The
ability to cultivate friends is a powerful aid to success. It is
capital which will stand by one when panics come, when banks fail, when
business concerns go to the wall. How many men have been able to start
again after having everything swept away by fire or flood, or some
other disaster, just because they had cultivated popular qualities,
because they had learned the art of being agreeable, of making friends
and holding them with hooks of steel! People are influenced powerfully
by their friendships, by their likes and dislikes, and a popular
business or professional man has every advantage in the world over a
cold, indifferent man, for customers, clients, or patients will flock
to him.
Cultivate the art of being agreeable. It will help you to
self-expression as nothing else will; it will call out your success
qualities; it will broaden your sympathies. It is difficult to
conceive of any more delightful birthright than to be born with this
personal charm, and yet it is comparatively easy to cultivate, because
it is made up of so many other qualities, all of which are cultivatable.
I never knew a thoroughly unselfish person who was not an attractive
person. No person who is always thinking of himself and trying to
figure out how he can get some advantage from everybody else will ever
be attractive. We are naturally disgusted with people who are trying
to get everything for themselves and never think of anybody else.
The secret of pleasing is in being pleasant yourself, in being
interesting. If you would be agreeable, you must be magnanimous. The
narrow, stingy soul is not lovable. People shrink from such a
character. There must be heartiness in the expression, in the smile,
in the hand-shake, in the cordiality, which is unmistakable. The
hardest natures can not resist these qualities any more than the eyes
can resist the sun. If you radiate sweetness and light, people will
love to get near you, for we are all looking for the sunlight, trying
to get away from the shadows.
It is unfortunate that these things are not taught more in the home and
in the school; for our success and happiness depend largely upon them.
Many of us are no better than uneducated heathens. We may know enough,
but we give ourselves out stingily and we live narrow and reserved
lives, when we should be broad, generous, sympathetic, and magnanimous.
Popular people, those with great personal charm, take infinite pains to
cultivate all the little graces and qualities which go to make up
popularity. If people who are naturally unsocial would only spend as
much time and take as much pains as people who are social favorites in
making themselves popular, they would accomplish wonders.
Everybody is attracted by lovable qualities and is repelled by the
unlovely wherever found. The whole principle of an attractive
personality lives in this sentence. A fine manner pleases; a coarse,
brutal manner repels. We cannot help being attracted to one who is
always trying to help us,--who gives us his sympathy, who is always
trying to make us comfortable and to give us every advantage he can.
On the other hand, we are repelled by people who are always trying to
get something out of us, who elbow their way in front of us, to get the
best seat in a car or a hall, who are always looking for the easiest
chair, or for the choicest bits at the table, who are always wanting to
be waited on first at the restaurant or hotel, regardless of others.
The ability to bring the best that is in you to the man you are trying
to reach, to make a good impression at the very first meeting, to
approach a prospective customer as though you had known him for years
without offending his taste, without raising the least prejudice, but
getting his sympathy and good will, is a great accomplishment, and this
is what commands a great salary.
There is a charm in a gracious personality from which it is very hard
to get away. It is difficult to snub the man who possesses it. There
is something about him which arrests your prejudice, and no matter how
busy or how worried you may be, or how much you may dislike to be
interrupted, somehow you haven't the heart to turn away the man with a
pleasing personality.
Who has not felt his power multiplied many times, his intellect
sharpened, and a keener edge put on all of his faculties, when coming
into contact with a strong personality which has called forth hidden
powers which he never before dreamed he possessed, so that he could say
things and do things impossible to him when alone? The power of the
orator, which he flings back to his listeners, he first draws from his
audience, but he could never get it from the separate individuals any
more than the chemist could get the full power from chemicals standing
in separate bottles in his laboratory. It is in contact and
combination only that new creations, new forces, are developed.
We little realize what a large part of our achievement is due to others
working through us, to their sharpening our faculties, radiating hope,
encouragement, and helpfulness into our lives, and sustaining and
inspiring us mentally.
We are apt to overestimate the value of an education from books alone.
A large part of the value of a college education comes from the social
intercourse of the students, the reenforcement, the buttressing of
character by association. Their faculties are sharpened and polished
by the attrition of mind with mind, and the pitting of brain against
brain, which stimulate ambition, brighten the ideals, and open up new
hopes and possibilities. Book knowledge is valuable, but the knowledge
which comes from mind intercourse is invaluable.
Two substances totally unlike, but having a chemical affinity for each
other, may produce a third infinitely stronger than either, or even
both of those which unite. Two people with a strong affinity often
call into activity in each other a power which neither dreamed he
possessed before. Many an author owes his greatest book, his cleverest
saying to a friend who has aroused in him latent powers which otherwise
might have remained dormant. Artists have been touched by the power of
inspiration through a masterpiece, or by some one they happened to meet
who saw in them what no one else had ever seen,--the power to do an
immortal thing.
The man who mixes with his fellows is ever on a voyage of discovery,
finding new islands of power in himself which would have remained
forever hidden but for association with others. Everybody he meets has
some secret for him, if he can only extract it, something which he
never knew before, something which will help him on his way, something
which will enrich his life. No man finds himself alone. Others are
his discoverers.
It is astonishing how much you can learn from people in social
intercourse when you know how to look at them rightly. But it is a
fact that you can only get a great deal out of them by giving them a
great deal of yourself. The more you radiate yourself, the more
magnanimous you are, the more generous of yourself, the more you fling
yourself out to them without reserve, the more you will get back.
You must give much in order to get much. The current will not set
toward you until it goes out from you. About all you get from others
is a reflex of the currents from yourself. The more generously you
give, the more you get in return. You will not receive if you give out
stingily, narrowly, meanly. You must give of yourself in a
whole-hearted, generous way, or you will receive only stingy rivulets,
when you might have had great rivers and torrents of blessings.
A man who might have been symmetrical, well-rounded, had he availed
himself of every opportunity of touching life along all sides, remains
a pygmy in everything except his own little specialty, because he did
not cultivate his social side.
It is always a mistake to miss an opportunity of meeting with our kind,
and especially of mixing with those above us, because we can always
carry away something of value. It is through social intercourse that
our rough corners are rubbed off, that we become polished and
attractive.
If you go into social life with a determination to give it something,
to make it a school for self-improvement, for calling out your best
social qualities, for developing the latent brain cells, which have
remained dormant for the lack of exercise, you will not find society
either a bore or unprofitable. But you must give it something, or you
will not get anything.
When you learn to look upon every one you meet as holding a treasure,
something which will enrich your life, which will enlarge and broaden
your experience, and make you more of a man, you will not think the
time in the drawing-room wasted.
The man who is determined to get on will look upon every experience as
an educator, as a culture chisel, which will make his life a little
more shapely and attractive.
Frankness of manner is one of the most delightful of traits in young or
old. Everybody admires the open-hearted, the people who have nothing
to conceal, and who do not try to cover up their faults and weaknesses.
They are, as a rule, large-hearted and magnanimous. They inspire love
and confidence, and, by their very frankness and simplicity, invite the
same qualities in others.
Secretiveness repels as much as frankness attracts. There is something
about the very inclination to conceal or cover up which arouses
suspicion and distrust. We cannot have the same confidence in people
who possess this trait, no matter how good they may seem to be, as in
frank, sunny natures. Dealing with these secretive people is like
traveling on a stage coach on a dark night. There is always a feeling
of uncertainty. We may come out all right, but there is a lurking fear
of some pitfall or unknown danger ahead of us. We are uncomfortable
because of the uncertainties. They may be all right, and may deal
squarely with us, but we are not sure and can not trust them. No
matter how polite or gracious a secretive person may be, we can never
rid ourselves of the feeling that there is a motive behind his
graciousness, and that he has an ulterior purpose in view. He is
always more or less of an enigma, because he goes through life wearing
a mask. He endeavors to hide every trait that is not favorable to
himself. Never, if he can help it, do we get a glimpse of the real man.
How different the man who comes out in the open, who has no secrets,
who reveals his heart to us, and who is frank, broad and liberal! How
quickly he wins our confidence! How we all like and trust him! We
forgive him for many a slip or weakness, because he is always ready to
confess his faults, and to make amends for them. It he has bad
qualities, they are always in sight, and we are ready to make
allowances for them. His heart is sound and true, his sympathies are
broad and active. The very qualities he possesses--frankness and
simplicity,--are conducive to the growth of the highest manhood and
womanhood.
In the Black Hills of South Dakota there lived a humble, ignorant
miner, who won the love and good will of everyone. "You can't 'elp
likin' 'im," said an English miner, and when asked why the miners and
the people in the town couldn't help liking him, he answered. "Because
he has a 'eart in 'im; he's a man. He always 'elps the boys when in
trouble. You never go to 'im for nothin'."
Bright, handsome young men, graduates of Eastern colleges, were there
seeking their fortune; a great many able, strong men drawn there from
different parts of the country by the gold fever; but none of them held
the public confidence like this poor man. He could scarcely write his
name, and knew nothing of the usages of polite society, yet he so
intrenched himself in the hearts in his community that no other man,
however educated or cultured, had the slightest chance of being elected
to any office of prominence while "Ike" was around.
He was elected mayor of his town, and sent to the legislature, although
he could not speak a grammatical sentence. It was all because he had a
heart in him; he was a man.