CLEAR GRIT
Let fortune empty her whole quiver on me,
I have a soul that, like an ample shield,
Can take in all, and verge enough for more.
DRYDEN.
There's a brave fellow! There's a man of pluck!
A man who's not afraid to say his say,
Though a whole town's against him.
LONGFELLOW.
Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we
fall.--GOLDSMITH.
The barriers are not yet erected which shall say to aspiring talent,
"Thus far and no farther."--BEETHOVEN.
"Friends and comrades," said Pizarro, as he turned toward the south,
after tracing with his sword upon the sand a line from east to west,
"on that side are toil, hunger, nakedness, the drenching storm,
desertion, and death; on this side, ease and pleasure. There lies Peru
with its riches: here, Panama and its poverty. Choose, each man, what
best becomes a brave Castilian. For my part, I go to the south." So
saying, he crossed the line and was followed by thirteen Spaniards in
armor. Thus, on the little island of Gallo in the Pacific, when his
men were clamoring to return to Panama, did Pizarro and his few
volunteers resolve to stake their lives upon the success of a desperate
crusade against the powerful empire of the Incas. At the time they had
not even a vessel to transport them to the country they wished to
conquer. Is it necessary to add that all difficulties yielded at last
to such resolute determination?
"Perseverance is a Roman virtue,
That wins each godlike act, and plucks success
E'en from the spear-proof crest of rugged danger."
"When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till
it seems as if you could not hold on a minute longer," said Harriet
Beecher Stowe, "never give up then, for that's just the place and time
that the tide'll turn."
Charles Sumner said "three things are necessary to a strong character:
First, backbone; second, backbone; third, backbone."
While digging among the ruins of Pompeii, which was buried by the dust
and ashes from an eruption of Vesuvius A. D. 79, the workmen found the
skeleton of a Roman soldier in the sentry-box at one of the city's
gates. He might have found safety under sheltering rocks close by;
but, in the face of certain death, he had remained at his post, a mute
witness to the thorough discipline, the ceaseless vigilance and
fidelity which made the Roman legionaries masters of the known world.
The world admires the man who never flinches from unexpected
difficulties, who calmly, patiently, and courageously grapples with his
fate; who dies, if need be, at his post.
"Clear grit" always commands respect. It is that quality which
achieves, and everybody admires achievement. In the strife of parties
and principles, backbone without brains will carry against brains
without backbone. You can not, by tying an opinion to a man's tongue,
make him the representative of that opinion; at the close of any battle
for principles, his name will be found neither among the dead nor among
the wounded, but among the missing.
The "London Times" was an insignificant sheet published by Mr. Walter
and was steadily losing money. John Walter, Jr., then only
twenty-seven years old, begged his father to give him full control of
the paper. After many misgivings, the father finally consented. The
young journalist began to remodel the establishment and to introduce
new ideas everywhere. The paper had not attempted to mold public
opinion, and had had no individuality or character of its own. The
audacious young editor boldly attacked every wrong, even the
government, whenever he thought it corrupt. Thereupon the public
customs, printing, and the government advertisements were withdrawn.
The father was in utter dismay. His son, he was sure, would ruin the
paper and himself. But no remonstrance could swerve the son from his
purpose to give the world a great journal which should have weight,
character, individuality, and independence.
The public soon saw that a new power stood behind the "Times"; that its
articles meant business; that new life and new blood and new ideas had
been infused into the insignificant sheet; that a man with brains and
push and tenacity of purpose stood at the helm,--a man who could make a
way when he could not find one. Among other new features foreign
dispatches were introduced, and they appeared in the "Times" several
days before their appearance in the government organs. The "leading
article" also was introduced to stay. The aggressive editor
antagonized the government, and his foreign dispatches were all stopped
at the outposts, while the ministerial journalists were allowed to
proceed. But nothing could daunt this resolute young spirit. At
enormous expense he employed special couriers. Every obstacle put in
his way, and all opposition from the government, only added to his
determination to succeed. Enterprise, push, grit were behind the
"Times," and nothing could stay its progress. Young Walter was the
soul of the paper, and his personality pervaded every detail. In those
days only three hundred copies of the paper could be struck off in an
hour by the best presses, and Walter had duplicate and even triplicate
types set. Then he set his brain to work, and finally the Walter
Press, throwing off 17,000 copies per hour, both sides printed, was the
result. It was the 29th of November, 1814, that the first steam
printed paper was given to the world.
"Mean natures always feel a sort of terror before great natures, and
many a base thought has been unuttered, many a sneaking vote withheld,
through the fear inspired by the rebuking presence of one noble man."
As a rule, pure grit, character, has the right of way. In the presence
of men permeated with grit and sound in character, meanness and
baseness slink out of sight. Mean men are uncomfortable, dishonesty
trembles, hypocrisy is uncertain.
Lincoln, being asked by an anxious visitor what he would do after three
or four years if the rebellion were not subdued, replied: "Oh, there is
no alternative but to keep pegging away."
"It is in me and it shall come out," said Sheridan, when told that he
would never make an orator as he had failed in his first speech in
Parliament. He became known as one of the foremost orators of his day.
When a boy Henry Clay was very bashful and diffident, and scarcely
dared recite before his class at school, but he determined to become an
orator. So he committed speeches and recited them in the cornfields,
or in the barn with the horse and cows for an audience.
If impossibilities ever exist, popularly speaking, they ought to have
been found somewhere between the birth and death of Kitto, that deaf
pauper and master of Oriental learning. But Kitto did not find them
there. In the presence of his decision and imperial energy they melted
away. He begged his father to take him out of the poorhouse, even if
he had to subsist like the Hottentots. He told him that he would sell
his books and pawn his handkerchief, by which he thought he could raise
about twelve shillings. He said he could live upon blackberries, nuts,
and field turnips, and was willing to sleep on a hayrick. Here was
real grit. What were impossibilities to such a resolute, indomitable
will?
Grit is a permanent, solid quality, which enters into the very
structure, the very tissues of the constitution.
Many of our generals in the Civil War exhibited heroism; they were
"plucky," and often displayed great determination, but Grant had pure
"grit" in the most concentrated form. He could not be moved from his
base; he was self-centered, immovable. "If you try to wheedle out of
him his plans for a campaign, he stolidly smokes; if you call him an
imbecile and a blunderer, he blandly lights another cigar; if you
praise him as the greatest general living, he placidly returns the puff
from his regalia; and if you tell him he should run for the presidency,
it does not disturb the equanimity with which he inhales and exhales
the unsubstantial vapor which typifies the politician's promises.
While you are wondering what kind of creature this man without a tongue
is, you are suddenly electrified with the news of some splendid
victory; proving that behind the cigar, and behind the face discharged
of all telltale expression, is the best brain to plan and the strongest
heart to dare among the generals of the Republic."
Lincoln had pure "grit." When the illustrated papers everywhere were
caricaturing him, when no epithet seemed too harsh to heap upon him,
when his methods were criticized by his own party, and the generals in
the war were denouncing his "foolish" confidence in Grant, and
delegations were waiting upon him to ask for that general's removal,
the great President sat with crossed legs, and was reminded of a story.
Lincoln and Grant both had that rare nerve which cares not for
ridicule, is not swerved by public clamor, can bear abuse and hatred.
There is a mighty force in truth, and in the sublime conviction and
supreme self-confidence behind it; in the knowledge that truth is
mighty, and the conviction and confidence that it will prevail.
Pure grit is that element of character which enables a man to clutch
his aim with an iron grip, and keep the needle of his purpose pointing
to the star of his hope. Through sunshine and storm, through hurricane
and tempest, through sleet and rain, with a leaky ship, with a crew in
mutiny, it perseveres; in fact, nothing but death can subdue it, and it
dies still struggling.
The man of grit carries in his very presence a power which controls and
commands. He is spared the necessity of declaring himself, for his
grit speaks in his every act. It does not come by fits and starts, it
is a part of his life. It inspires a sublime audacity and a heroic
courage. Many of the failures of life are due to the want of grit or
business nerve. It is unfortunate for a young man to start out in
business life with a weak, yielding disposition, with no resolution or
backbone to mark his own course and stick to it; with no ability to say
"No" with an emphasis, obliging this man by investing in hopeless
speculation, and, rather than offend a friend, indorsing a questionable
note.
A little boy was asked how he learned to skate. "Oh, by getting up
every time I fell down," he replied.
Whipple tells a story of Masséna which illustrates the masterful
purpose that plucks victory out of the jaws of defeat. "After the
defeat at Essling, the success of Napoleon's attempt to withdraw his
beaten army depended on the character of Masséna, to whom the Emperor
dispatched a messenger, telling him to keep his position for two hours
longer at Aspern. This order, couched in the form of a request,
required almost an impossibility; but Napoleon knew the indomitable
tenacity of the man to whom he gave it. The messenger found Masséna
seated on a heap of rubbish, his eyes bloodshot, his frame weakened by
his unparalleled exertions during a contest of forty hours, and his
whole appearance indicating a physical state better befitting the
hospital than the field. But that steadfast soul seemed altogether
unaffected by bodily prostration. Half dead as he was with fatigue, he
rose painfully and said courageously, 'Tell the Emperor that I will
hold out for two hours.' And he kept his word."
"Often defeated in battle," said Macaulay of Alexander the Great, "he
was always successful in war."
In the battle of Marengo, the Austrians considered the day won. The
French army was inferior in numbers, and had given way. The Austrian
army extended its wings on the right and on the left, to follow up the
French. Then, though the French themselves thought that the battle was
lost, and the Austrians were confident it was won, Napoleon gave the
command to charge; and, the trumpet's blast being given, the Old Guard
charged down into the weakened center of the enemy, cut it in two,
rolled the two wings up on either side, and the battle was won for
France.
Once when Marshal Ney was going into battle, looking down at his knees
which were smiting together, he said, "You may well shake; you would
shake worse yet if you knew where I am going to take you."
It is victory after victory with the soldier, lesson after lesson with
the scholar, blow after blow with the laborer, crop after crop with the
farmer, picture after picture with the painter, and mile after mile
with the traveler, that secures what all so much desire--SUCCESS.
A promising Harvard student was stricken with paralysis of both legs.
Physicians said there was no hope for him. The lad determined to
continue his college studies. The examiners heard him at his bedside,
and in four years he took his degree. He resolved to make a critical
study of Dante, to do which he had to learn Italian and German. He
persevered in spite of repeated attacks of illness and partial loss of
sight. He was competing for the university prize. Think of the
paralytic lad, helpless in bed, competing for a prize, fighting death
inch by inch! What a lesson! Before his manuscript was published or
the prize awarded, the brave student died, but his work was successful.
Congressman William W. Crapo, while working his way through college,
being too poor to buy a dictionary, actually copied one, walking from
his home in the village of Dartmouth, Mass., to New Bedford to
replenish his store of words and definitions from the town library.
Oh, the triumphs of this indomitable spirit of the conqueror! This it
was that enabled Franklin to dine on a small loaf in the
printing-office with a book in his hand. It helped Locke to live on
bread and water in a Dutch garret. It enabled Gideon Lee to go
barefoot in the snow, half starved and thinly clad. It sustained
Lincoln and Garfield on their hard journeys from the log cabin to the
White House.
President Chadbourne put grit in place of his lost lung, and worked
thirty-five years after his funeral had been planned.
Henry Fawcett put grit in place of eyesight, and became the greatest
Postmaster-General England ever had.
Prescott also put grit in place of eyesight, and became one of
America's greatest historians. Francis Parkman put grit in place of
health and eyesight, and became the greatest historian of America in
his line. Thousands of men have put grit in place of health, eyes,
ears, hands, legs and yet have achieved marvelous success. Indeed,
most of the great things of the world have been accomplished by grit
and pluck. You can not keep a man down who has these qualities. He
will make stepping-stones out of his stumbling-blocks, and lift himself
to success.
At fifty, Barnum was a ruined man, owing thousands more than he
possessed, yet he resolutely resumed business once more, fairly
wringing success from adverse fortune, and paying his notes at the same
time. Again and again he was ruined; but phoenix-like, he rose
repeatedly from the ashes of his misfortune each time more determined
than before.
"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, or he may be satisfied with his first triumph; but show me a young
man who has not succeeded at first, and nevertheless has gone on, and I
will back that young man to do better than most of those who have
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 till every poor man in England had a larger, better,
and cheaper loaf.
See young Disraeli, sprung from a hated and persecuted race; without
opportunity, pushing his way up through the middle classes, up through
the upper classes, until he stands self-poised upon the topmost round
of political and social power. Scoffed, ridiculed, rebuffed, hissed
from the House of Commons, he simply says, "The time will come when you
will hear me." The time did come, and the boy with no chance swayed
the scepter of England for a quarter of a century.
One of the most remarkable examples in history is Disraeli, forcing his
leadership upon that very party whose prejudices were deepest against
his race, and which had an utter contempt for self-made men and
interlopers. Imagine England's surprise when she awoke to find this
insignificant Hebrew actually Chancellor of the Exchequer! He was
easily master of all the tortures supplied by the armory of rhetoric;
he could exhaust the resources of the bitterest invective; he could
sting Gladstone out of his self-control; he was absolute master of
himself and his situation. You could see that this young man intended
to make his way in the world. Determined audacity was in his very
face. Handsome, with the hated Hebrew blood in his veins, after three
defeats in parliamentary elections he was not the least daunted, for he
knew his day would come. Lord Melbourne, the great Prime Minister,
when this gay young fop was introduced to him, asked him what he wished
to be. "Prime Minister of England," was his audacious reply.
William H. Seward was given a thousand dollars by his father with which
to go to college; this was all he was to have. The son returned at the
end of the freshman year with extravagant habits and no money. His
father refused to give him more, and told him he could not stay at
home. When the youth found the props all taken out from under him, and
that he must now sink or swim, he left home moneyless, returned to
college, graduated at the head of his class, studied law, was elected
Governor of New York, and became Lincoln's great Secretary of State
during the Civil War.
Garfield said, "If the power to do hard work is not talent, it is the
best possible substitute for it." The triumph of industry and grit
over low birth and iron fortune in America, the land of opportunity,
ought to be sufficient to put to shame all grumblers over their hard
fortune and those who attempt to excuse aimless, shiftless, successless
men because they have no chance.
During a winter in the War of 1812, General Jackson's troops,
unprovided for and starving, became mutinous and were going home. But
the general set the example of living on acorns; and then he rode
before the rebellious line and threatened with instant death the first
mutineer that should try to leave.
The race is not always to the swift, the battle is not always to the
strong. Horses are sometimes weighted or hampered in the race, and
this is taken into account in the result. So in the race of life the
distance alone does not determine the prize. We must take into
consideration the hindrances, the weights we have carried, the
disadvantages of education, of breeding, of training, of surroundings,
of circumstances. How many young men are weighted down with debt, with
poverty, with the support of invalid parents or brothers and sisters,
or friends? How many are fettered with ignorance, hampered by
inhospitable surroundings, with the opposition of parents who do not
understand them? How many a round boy is hindered in the race by being
forced into a square hole? How many youths are delayed in their course
because nobody believes in them, because nobody encourages them,
because they get no sympathy and are forever tortured for not doing
that against which every fiber of their being protests, and every drop
of their blood rebels? How many men have to feel their way to the goal
through the blindness of ignorance and lack of experience? How many go
bungling along from the lack of early discipline and drill in the
vocation they have chosen? How many have to hobble along on crutches
because they were never taught to help themselves, but have been
accustomed to lean upon a father's wealth or a mother's indulgence?
How many are weakened for the journey of life by self-indulgence, by
dissipation, by "life-sappers"; how many are crippled by disease, by a
weak constitution, by impaired eyesight or hearing?
When the prizes of life shall be finally awarded, the distance we have
run, the weights we have carried, the handicaps, will all be taken into
account. 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. The poor wretch who has plodded along against
unknown temptations, the poor woman who has buried her sorrows in her
silent heart and sewed her weary way through life, those who have
suffered abuse in silence, and who have been unrecognized or despised
by their fellow-runners, will often receive the greater prize.
"The wise and active conquer difficulties,
By daring to attempt them; sloth and folly
Shiver and sink at sight of toil and hazard,
And make the impossibility they fear."
"I can't, it is impossible," said a foiled lieutenant, to Alexander.
"Begone," shouted the conquering Macedonian, "there is nothing
impossible to him who will try."
Were I called upon to express in a word the secret of so many failures
among those who started out in life with high hopes, I should say
unhesitatingly, they lacked will-power. They could not half will.
What is a man without a will? He is like an engine without steam, a
mere sport of chance, to be tossed about hither and thither, always at
the mercy of those who have wills. I should call the strength of will
the test of a young man's possibilities. Can he will strong enough,
and hold whatever he undertakes with an iron grip? It is the iron grip
that takes the strong hold on life. What chance is there in this
crowding, pushing, selfish, greedy world, where everything is pusher or
pushed, for a young man with no will, no grip on life? "The truest
wisdom," said Napoleon, "is a resolute determination." An iron will
without principle might produce a Napoleon; but with character it would
make a Wellington or a Grant, untarnished by ambition or avarice.
"The undivided will
'T is that compels the elements and wrings
A human music from the indifferent air."