How to Get on in the World

M >> Major A.R. Calhoon >> How to Get on in the World

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Not only in business, but in science and art, observation and good
judgment are necessary. Excellence in art, as in everything else, can
only be achieved by dint of painstaking labor and a close observation
of those whom we regard as our superiors. There is nothing less
accidental than the painting of a fine picture, or the chiseling of a
noble statue. Every skilled touch of the artist's brush or chisel,
though guided by genius, is the product of unremitting study. Sir
Joshua Reynolds was such a believer in the force of industry, that he
held that artistic excellence, "however expressed by genius, taste,
or the gift of heaven may be acquired." Writing to Barry he said,
"Whoever is resolved to excel in painting, or indeed any other art,
must bring all his mind to bear upon that one object from the moment
that he rises till he goes to bed." And on another occasion he said,
"Those who are resolved to excel must go to their work, willing or
unwilling, morning, noon, and, night: they will find it no play, but
very hard labor." But although diligent application is no doubt
absolutely necessary for the achievement of the highest distinction
in art, it is equally true that, without the inborn genius, no amount
of mere industry, however well applied, will make an artist. The gift
comes by nature, but is perfected by self-culture, which is of more
avail that all the imparted learning of the schools. But even genius
without good judgment may be an unbroken steed without a bridle.

All great artists and authors have been famed for their powers of
observation; indeed, it is claimed that it is this power that
distinguishes them from other men.

No matter how generous nature has been in bestowing the gift of
genius, the pursuit of art is nevertheless a long and continuous
labor. Many artists have been precocious, but without diligence their
precocity would have come to nothing. The anecdote related of West is
well known. When only seven years old, struck with the beauty of the
sleeping infant of his eldest sister, whilst watching by its cradle,
he ran to seek some paper, and forthwith drew its portrait in red and
black ink. The little incident revealed the artist in him, and it was
found impossible to draw him from his bent. West might have been a
greater painter had he not been injured by too early success: his
fame, though great, was not purchased by study, trials and
difficulties, and it has not been enduring.

Richard Wilson, when a mere child, indulged himself with tracing
figures of men and animals on the walls of his father's house with a
burnt stick. He first directed his attention to portrait painting;
but when in Italy, calling one day at the house of Zucarelli, and
growing weary with waiting, he began painting the scene on which his
friend's chamber window looked. When Zucarelli arrived, he was so
charmed with the picture that he asked if Wilson had not studied
landscape, to which he replied that he had not. "Then I advise you,"
said the other, "to try; for you are sure of great success." Wilson
adopted the advice, studied and worked hard, and became the first
great English landscape painter.

Sir Joshua Reynolds, when a boy, forgot his lessons, and took
pleasure only in drawing, for which his father was accustomed to
rebuke him. The boy was destined for the profession of physic, but
his strong instinct for art could not be repressed, and he became a
painter. Gainsborough went sketching, when a schoolboy, in the woods
of Sudbury, and at twelve he was a confirmed artist; he was a keen
observer and a hard worker--no picturesque feature of any scene he
had once looked upon escaping his diligent pencil. William Blake, a
hosier's son, employed himself in drawing designs on the backs of his
father's shop-bills, and making sketches on the counter. Edward Bird,
when a child only three or four years old, would mount a chair and
draw figures on the walls, which he called French and English
soldiers. A box of colors was purchased for him, and his father,
desirous of turning his love of art to account, put him apprentice to
a maker of teatrays! Out of this trade he gradually raised himself,
by study and labor, to the rank of a Royal Academician.

Hogarth, though a very dull boy at his lessons, took pleasure in
making drawings of the letters of the alphabet, and his school
exercises were more remarkable for the ornaments with which he
embellished them, than for the matter of the exercises themselves. In
the latter respect he was beaten by all the blockheads of the school,
but in his adornments he stood alone. His father put him apprentice
to a silversmith, where he learnt to draw, and also to engrave spoons
and forks with crests and ciphers. From silver-chasing he went on to
teach himself engraving on copper, principally griffins and monsters
of heraldry, in the course of which practice he became ambitious to
delineate the varieties of human character. The singular excellence
which he reached in this art was mainly the result of careful
observation and study. He had the gift, which he sedulously
cultivated, of committing to memory the precise features of any
remarkable face, and afterward reproducing them on paper; but if any
singularly fantastic form or odd face came in his way, he would make
a sketch of it on the spot upon his thumbnail, and carry it home to
expand at his leisure. Everything fantastical and original had a
powerful attraction for him, and he wandered into many out-of-the-way
places for the purpose of meeting with character. By this careful
storing of his mind, he was afterward enabled to crowd an immense
amount of thought and treasure observation into his works. Hence it
is that Hogarth's pictures are so truthful a memorial of the
character, the manners, and even the very thoughts of the times in
which he live. True painting, he himself observed, can only be learnt
in one school, and that is kept by Nature. But he was not a highly
cultivated man, except in his own walk. His school education had been
of the slenderest kind, scarcely even perfecting him in the art of
spelling; his self-culture did the rest. For a long time he was in
very straitened circumstances, but nevertheless worked on with a
cheerful heart. Poor though he was, he contrived to live within his
small means, and he boasted with becoming pride, that he was "a
punctual paymaster." When he had conquered all his difficulties and
become a famous and thriving man, he loved to dwell upon his early
labors and privations, and to fight over again the battle which ended
so honorably to him as a man and so gloriously as an artist. "I
remember the time," said he on one occasion, "when I have gone
moping into the city with scarce a shilling, but as soon as I have
received ten guineas there for a plate, I have returned home, put on
my sword, and sallied out with all the confidence of a man who had
thousands in his pockets."

Perhaps there is no living man of eminence who so well and forcibly
illustrates these qualities of judgment and observation as that
greatest of living American inventors, Thomas A. Edison.

Mr. Edison, as we have already stated, had only a few weeks at school
in his whole life. He was born in the upper part of New York State in
1847. His parents were poor, and early in life, to use his own
expressive words, he "had to start out and hustle." One would think
that selling newspapers on a railroad train was not a calling that
afforded any educational advantages, but to the man of observation
there is no position in life, whether in the busy haunts of men or
the silence of the wilderness, that is not replete with valuable
information if we but know where to look for it, and have the
judgment to use it after it is obtained.

Through the favor of the telegraph operator, whose child's life he
had saved when the little one was nearly under the wheels of a train,
young Edison was enabled to study telegraphy. During this
apprenticeship, if such it may be called, the boy not only learned
how to send and receive a message, so as to fit himself for the
position of operator, but he learned all about the mechanism and the
batteries of the instrument he operated.

"Nothing escaped Tom Edison's observation," said a man who knew him
at this time. "He saw everything, and he not only saw it, but he set
about learning its whys and wherefores, and he stuck at it till he
had learned all there was to be learned about it."

Said another friend, "I've known Edison since he was a boy of
fourteen, and of my own knowledge I can say he never spent an idle
day in his life. Often when he should have been asleep I have known
him to sit up half the night reading. He did not take to novels or
wild Western adventures, but read works on mechanics, chemistry and
electricity, and he mastered them, too. But in addition to his
reading, which he could only indulge at odd hours, he carefully
cultivated his wonderful powers of observation, till at length, when
he was not actually asleep, it may be said he was learning all the
time. Schools and colleges are all very well, but Mr. Edison's career
goes to show that a man may become famous, prosperous, and well
educated, if he has the necessary capacity for observing and
weighing."

Another illustrious example of the same kind is the late George W.
Childs, of Philadelphia. He was born in Baltimore, Md., in 1829, and
at the age of twelve he had to begin the battle of life by taking the
position of errand boy in a book store. "I had no schooling," he
said, when speaking of his early struggles, "but I had a quenchless
thirst for information. I had no tine to read the books I had to
handle and carry sometimes in a wheelbarrow, but I kept my eyes and
ears open. I studied the binding and manufacture, though I had not
the slightest idea of the contents; and from these early observations
I made up my mind that one day I would become a publisher on my own
account."

How successfully Mr. Childs did this, we all know. While yet in his
teens, he made his way, without money or friends, to Philadelphia,
and found a place in a book store, where the same method of education
by observation was continued.

The first time he saw a copy of the Philadelphia _Ledger_, a time
when he had scarcely the penny to spare that bought it, he made up
his mind that one day he would own that paper--and he carried out his
resolution.

So excellent was his judgment that not only publishers, but statesmen
and bankers sought it. From the humblest beginnings George W. Childs
rose up and up till the greatest men of two continents rejoiced in
his friendship, and his name was on the lips of all who admire a
noble life devoted to philanthropic deeds.

Our American biographies are full of examples of self-taught men--men
who have become educated through observation, and great through good
judgment and increasing effort, but there are not many of them that
commend themselves so warmly to the heart as the life of the good,
wise, and generous George W. Childs.

CHAPTER XIX

SINGLENESS OF PURPOSE.

We have all heard of the "Jack of all trades, and master of none."
Such men never win, though they may excite the admiration of the
curious by their impractical versatility.

In early times, even in the early settlement of our own country, it
was necessary for not only men, but women also, to be many-sided in
their capacity for work; but the world's swift advance has made this
unnecessary. A farmer can now buy shoes cheaper than he could make
them at home, and the farmer's wife has no longer to learn the art of
spinning and weaving.

A French philosopher in speaking of this subject says: "It is well to
know something about everything, and everything about something."
That is general information is always useful, but special information
is essential to special success.

The field of learning is too vast to be carefully gone over in one
lifetime, and the business world is too extensive to permit any man
to become acquainted with all its topography. A man may do a number
of things fairly well, but he can do only one thing very well.

Often versatility instead of being a blessing is an injury. A few men
like Michael Angelo in art, Benjamin Franklin in science and letters,
and Peter Cooper in various departments of manufacture have succeeded
in everything they undertook, but to hold these up as examples to be
followed would be to make a rule of an exception.

Singleness of purpose is one of the prime requisites of success.
Fortune is jealous, and refuses to be approached from all sides by
the same suitor.

We have known men of marked ability, but want of purpose, who studied
for the ministry and failed; who then studied law--and failed. After
this they tried medicine and journalism, only to fail in each;
whereas, had they stuck resolutely to one thing success would not
have been uncertain.

A young man may not be able at the very start to hit upon the
vocation for which he is best adapted, but should he find it, he will
see that his ability to avail himself of its advantages will depend
largely on the energy and singleness of purpose displayed in the work
for which he had no liking.

There is a famous speech recorded of an old Norseman, thoroughly
characteristic of the Teuton. "I believe neither in idols nor
demons," said he; "I put my sole trust in my own strength of body and
soul." The ancient crest of a pickaxe with the motto of "Either I
will find a way or make one," was an expression of the same sturdy
independence which to this day distinguishes the descendants of the
Northmen. Indeed, nothing could be more characteristic of the
Scandinavian mythology, than that it had a god with a hammer. A man's
character is seen in small matters; and from even so slight a test as
the mode in which a man wields a hammer, his energy may in some
measure be inferred. Thus an eminent Frenchman hit off in a single
phrase the characteristic quality of the inhabitants of a particular
district, in which a friend of his proposed to settle and buy land.
"Beware," said he, "of making a purchase there; I know the men of
that Department; the pupils who come from it to our veterinary school
at Paris _do not strike hard upon the anvil_; they want energy; and
you will not get a satisfactory return on any capital you may invest
there."

Hugh Miller said the only school in which he was properly taught was
"that world-wide school in which toil and hardship are the severe but
noble teachers." He who allows his application to falter, or shirks
his work on frivolous pretexts, is on the sure road to ultimate
failure. Let any task be undertaken as a thing not possible to be
evaded, and it will soon come to be performed with alacrity and
cheerfulness. Charles IX of Sweden was a firm believer in the power
of will, even in youth. Laying his hand on the head of his youngest
son when engaged on a difficult task, he exclaimed, "He _shall_ do
it! he _shall_ do it!" The habit of application becomes easy in time,
like every other habit. Thus persons with comparatively moderate
powers will accomplish much, if they apply themselves wholly and
indefatigably to one thing at a time. Fowell Buxton placed his
confidence in ordinary means and extraordinary application; realizing
the Scriptural injunction, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it
with thy might;" and he attributed his own success in life to his
practice of "being a whole man to one thing at a time."

"Where there is a will there is a way," is an old and true saying. He
who resolves upon doing a thing, by that very resolution often scales
the barriers to it, and secures its achievement. To think we are
able, is almost to be so--to determine upon attainment is frequently
attainment itself. Thus, earnest resolution has often seemed to have
about it almost a savor of omnipotence. The strength of Suwarrow's
character lay in his power of willing, and, like most resolute
persons, he preached it up as a system. "You can only half will," he
would say to people who failed. Like Richelieu and Napoleon, he would
have the word "impossible" banished from the dictionary. "I don't
know," "I can't," and "impossible," were words which he detested
above all others. "Learn! Do! Try!" he would exclaim. His biographer
has said of him, that he furnished a remarkable illustration of what
may be effected by the energetic development and exercise of
faculties the germs of which at least are in every human heart.

One of Napoleon's favorite maxims was, "The truest wisdom is a
resolute determination." His life, beyond most others, vividly showed
what a powerful and unscrupulous will could accomplish. He threw his
whole force of body and mind direct upon his work. Imbecile rulers
and the nations they governed went down before him in succession. He
was told that the Alps stood in the way of his armies. "There shall
be no Alps," he said, and the road across the Simplon was
constructed, through a district formerly almost inaccessible.
"Impossible," said he, "is a word only to be found in the dictionary
of fools." He was a man who toiled terribly; sometimes employing and
exhausting four secretaries at a time. He spared no one, not even
himself. His influence inspired other men, and put a new life into
them. "I made my generals out of mud" he said. But all was of no
avail; for Napoleon's intense selfishness was his ruin, and the ruin
of France, which he left a prey to anarchy.

Before the man resolutely impelled to action by singleness of
purpose, every obstacle disappears as he approaches, and every lesson
of experience becomes the stepping-stone to further victories in the
same direction.

It is this singleness of purpose, this absorption in a great life-
work, that nerves our missionaries in their exile. A splendid example
of this is presented in the career of the great missionary and
explorer, Dr. Livingstone.

He has told the story of his life in that modest and unassuming
manner which is so characteristic of the man himself. His ancestors
were poor but honest Highlanders, and it is related of one of them,
renowned in his district for wisdom and prudence, that when on his
death-bed, he called his children round him and left them these
words, the only legacy he had to bequeath: "In my lifetime," said he,
"I have searched most carefully through all the traditions I could
find of our family, and I never could discover that there was a
dishonest man among our forefathers; if, therefore, any of you, or
any of your children, should take to dishonest ways, it will not be
because it runs in our blood; it does not belong to you: I leave this
precept with you--Be honest." At the age of ten, Livingstone was sent
to work in a cotton factory near Glasgow as a "piecer." With part of
his first week's wages he bought a Latin grammar, and began to learn
that language, pursuing the study for years at a night-school. He
would sit up conning his lessons till twelve or later, when not sent
to bed by his mother, for he had to be up and at work in the factory
every morning by six. In this way he plodded through Virgil and
Horace, also reading extensively all books, excepting novels, that
came in his way, but more especially scientific works and books of
travels. He occupied his spare hours, which were but few, in the
pursuit of botany, scouring the neighborhood to collect plants. He
even carried on his reading amidst the roar of the factory machinery,
so placing the book upon the spinning-jenny which he worked, that he
could catch sentence after sentence as he passed it. In this way the
persevering youth acquired much useful knowledge; and as he grew
older, the desire possessed him of becoming a missionary to the
heathen. With this object he set himself to obtain a medical
education, in order the better to be qualified for the work. He
accordingly economized his earnings, and saved as much money as
enabled him to support himself while attending the Medical and Greek
classes as well as the Divinity Lectures, at Glasgow, for several
winters, working as a cotton-spinner during the remainder of each
year. He thus supported himself, during his college career, entirely
by his own earnings as a factory workman, never having received a
farthing of help from any other source. "Looking back now," he
honestly said, "at that life of toil, I cannot but feel thankful that
it formed such a material part of my early education; and, were it
possible, I should like to begin life over again in the same lowly
style, and to pass through the same hardy training." At length he
finished his medical curriculum, wrote his Latin thesis, passed his
examinations, and was admitted a licentiate of the Faculty of
Physicians and Surgeons. At first he thought of going to China, but
the war then waging with that country prevented his following out the
idea; and having offered his services to the London Missionary
Society, he was by them sent out to Africa, which he reached in 1840.
He had intended to proceed to China by his own efforts; and he says
the only pang he had in going to Africa at the charge of the London
Missionary Society was, because "it was not quite agreeable to one
accustomed to worked his own way to become, in a manner, dependent
upon others." Arrived in Africa, he set to work with great zeal. He
could not brook the idea of merely entering upon the labors of
others, but cut out a large sphere of independent work, preparing
himself for it by undertaking manual labor in building and other
handicraft employment, in addition to teaching, which, he says, "made
me generally as much exhausted and unfit for study in the evenings as
ever I had been when a cotton-spinner." Whilst laboring amongst the
Bechuanas, he dug canals, built houses, cultivated fields, reared
cattle, and taught the natives to work as well as to worship. When he
first started with a party of them on foot upon a long journey, he
overheard their observations upon his appearance and powers. "He is
not strong," said they; "he is quite slim, and only appears stout
because he puts himself into those bags (trousers): he will soon
knock up." This caused the missionary's Highland blood to rise, and
made him despise the fatigue of keeping them all at the top of their
speed for days together, until he heard them expressing proper
opinions of his pedestrian powers. What he did in Africa, and how he
worked, may be learnt from his own "Missionary Travels," one of the
most fascinating books of its kind that has ever been given to the
public. One of his last known acts is thoroughly characteristic of
the man. The "Birkenhead" steam launch, which he took out with him to
Africa, having proved a failure, he sent home orders for the
construction of another vessel at an estimated cost of 2,000 pounds.
This sum he proposed to defray out of the means which he had set aside
for his children, arising from the profits of his books of travel.
"The children must make it up themselves," was in effect his expression
in sending home the order for the appropriation of the money.

The career of John Howard was throughout a striking illustration of
the same power of patient purpose. His sublime life proved that even
physical weakness could remove mountains in the pursuit of an end
recommended by duty. The idea of ameliorating the condition of
prisoners engrossed his whole thoughts, and possessed him like a
passion; and no toil, or danger, nor bodily suffering could turn him
from that great object of his life. Though a man of no genius and but
moderate talent, his heart was pure and his will was strong. Even in
his own time he achieved a remarkable degree of success; and his
influence did not die with him, for it has continued powerfully to
affect not only the legislation of his own country, but of all
civilized nations, down to the present hour.

Horace Mann, famous as a teacher and reformer in his day, was urged
by his friends in Ohio to go to Congress. He replied: "I have a great
deal of respect for men in public life, but I have more respect for
my on life-work. If I know anything, it is the science or art of
teaching, and to this work, please God, I shall devote the whole of
my life." And he kept his word.

Singleness of purpose implies firmness, for in this day of change and
speculation, the young man who has saved up a little money, hoping
one day to go into business for himself, will find on every hand
temptations to invest in enterprises of which he knows nothing. Here
his resolution will be tested. Remember there is no element of human
character so potential for weal or woe as firmness. To the merchant
and the man of business it is all-important. Before its irresistible
energy the most formidable obstacles become as cobweb barriers in its
path. Difficulties, the terror of which causes the timid and pampered
sons of luxury to shrink back with dismay, provoke from the man a
lofty determination only a smile. The whole history of our race--all
nature, indeed--teems with examples to show what wonders may be
accomplished by resolute perseverance and patient toil.

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