by Brett McKay
It is said of Euclid, formulator of the earliest of the sciences, geometry, that on one occasion he was called in to teach a certain king of Egypt his new science. He began as we begin, with definition, axiom and proposition—we have not improved appreciably upon his text-book; and the king grew restless and indignant: “Must a Pharaoh learn like a common slave?” Euclid, with that pride in knowing one thing well, that everyone ought to have who knows one science thoroughly to the end, responded: “There is no royal road to geometry!” We can universalize the statement: there is no royal road to anything on earth—perhaps in heaven either—worth having, except the one broad, open highway, with no toll-gates upon it, of dead, hard, consistent work through the days and years. Spinoza said—it is the last word in his Ethic: “All noble things are as difficult as they are rare;” and we may add, they are rare because they are difficult.
“Be regular and orderly in your daily affairs that you may be violent and original in your work.” —Gustave Flaubert
The Daily Schedules of
Theodore Roosevelt and Benjamin Franklin
In the introduction to this chapter, we detailed how much two great men from history, Benjamin Franklin and Theodore Roosevelt, accomplished during their lives. One of the secrets to their inspiring success was the way in which they effectively utilized their time each day. For a closer examination of just how they did this, here is a look at each man’s daily schedule.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN’S DAILY SCHEDULE
Seeking to attain “moral perfection,” Benjamin Franklin established a program in which he strove to live thirteen different virtues. As he particularly struggled with the “precept of Order,” he kept the following schedule inside the little notebook in which he kept track of his adherence to the virtues.
THEODORE ROOSEVELT’S DAILY SCHEDULE
When campaigning for the vice presidency in 1900, TR spent eight weeks barnstorming around the country. Traveling by train, he covered 21,000 miles visiting twenty-four states. All along the way he made speeches, delivering 700 in all to 3 million people.
His daily schedule during this time was recorded by a man who accompanied him on the tour.
7:00 A.M.—Breakfast.
7:30 A.M.—A speech.
8:00 A.M.—Reading a historical work.
9:00 A.M.—A speech.
10:00 A.M.—Dictating letters.
11:00 A.M.—Discussing Montana mines.
11:30 A.M.—A speech.
12:00 P.M.—Reading an ornithological work.
12:30 P.M.—A speech.
1:00 P.M.—Lunch.
1:30 P.M.—A speech.
2:30 P.M.—Reading Sir Walter Scott.
3:00 P.M.—Answering telegrams.
3:45 P.M.—A speech.
4:00 P.M.—Meeting the press.
4:30 P.M.—Reading.
5:00 P.M.—A speech.
6:00 P.M.—Reading.
7:00 P.M.—Supper.
8:00 to 10:00 P.M.—Speaking.
11:00 P.M.—Reading alone in his car.
12:00 P.M.—To bed.
Theodore Roosevelt’s System of Energizing
FROM “THE POWERS OF A STRENUOUS PRESIDENT,” 1908
By “K”
The following excerpt from an article in The American Magazine illuminates the way in which Roosevelt’s energy and discipline made this kind of extraordinary productivity possible.
The President is the very incarnation of order and regularity in his work. That is part of his system of energizing. Every morning Secretary Loeb places a typewritten list of his engagements for the day on his desk, sometimes reduced to five-minute intervals. And no railroad engineer runs more sharply upon his schedule than he. His watch comes out of his pocket, he cuts off an interview, or signs a paper, and turns instantly, according to his time-table, to the next engagement. If there is an interval anywhere left over he chinks in the time by reading a paragraph of history from the book that lies always ready at his elbow or by writing two or three sentences in an article on Irish folk-lore, or bear-hunting.
Thus he never stops running, even while he stokes and fires; the throttle is always open; the engine is always under a full head of steam. I have seen schedules of his engagements which showed that he was constantly occupied from nine o’clock in the morning, when he takes his regular walk in the White House Park with Mrs. Roosevelt, until midnight, with guests at both luncheon and dinner. And when he goes to bed he is able to disabuse his mind instantly of every care and worry and go straight to sleep, and he sleeps with perfect normality and on schedule time.
I have been thinking back over Roosevelt’s career in the White House and I cannot now remember to have heard that he was ever ill or even indisposed as other men sometimes are. Like any good engineer, he keeps his machinery in such excellent condition that he never has a breakdown.
Thus we have the spectacle of a man of ordinary abilities who has succeeded through the simple device of self-control and self-discipline, of using every power he possesses to its utmost limit.
“Let us realize that the privilege to work is a gift, that power to work is a blessing, that love of work is success.” —David O. McKay
The Farmer and His Sons
AN AESOP’S FABLE
A Farmer being on the point of death, and wishing to show his sons the way to success in farming, called them to him, and said, “My children, I am now departing from this life, but all that I have to leave you, you will find in the vineyard.” The sons, supposing that he referred to some hidden treasure, as soon as the old man was dead, set to work with their spades and ploughs and every implement that was at hand, and turned up the soil over and over again. They found indeed no treasure; but the vines, strengthened and improved by this thorough tillage, yielded a finer vintage than they had ever yielded before, and more than repaid the young husbandmen for all their trouble.
Industry is in itself a treasure.
“It is better to wear out than to rust out.” —Bishop Richard Cumberland
Now
FROM READINGS FOR YOUNG MEN, MERCHANTS, AND MEN OF BUSINESS, 1859
“Now” is the constant syllable ticking from the clock of Time. “Now” is the watchword of the wise. “Now” is on the banner of the prudent. Let us keep this little word always in our mind; and, whenever any thing presents itself to us in the shape of work, whether mental or physical, we should do it with all our might, remembering that “now” is the only time for us. It is indeed a sorry way to get through the world by putting off till to-morrow, saying, “then” I will do it. No! This will never answer. “Now” is ours; “Then” may never be.
“Industry is the enemy of melancholy.” —William F. Buckley Jr.
We Do Not Labor That We May Be Idle
FROM NICOMACHEAN ETHICS, c. 350 B.C.
By Aristotle
We do not labor that we may be idle; but, as Anarchis justly said, we are idle that we may labor with more effect; that is, we have recourse to sports and amusements as refreshing cordials after contentious exertions, that, having reposed in such diversions for a while, we may recommence our labors with increased vigor. The weakness of human nature requires frequent remissions of energy; but these rests and pauses are only the better to prepare us for enjoying the pleasures of activity. The amusements of life, therefore, are but preludes to its business, the place of which they cannot possibly supply; and its happiness, because its business, consists in the exercise of those virtuous energies which constitute the worth and dignity of our nature. Inferior pleasures may be enjoyed by the fool and the slave as completely as by the hero or the sage. But who will ascribe the happiness of a man to him, who by his character and condition, is disqualified for manly pursuits?
The Village Blacksmith
FROM BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS, 1841
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate’er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter’s voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother’s voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
Onwards through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night’s repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought!
“It is not enough to be industrious; so are the ants. What are you industrious about?” —Henry David Thoreau
Having an Aim
FROM TRAITS OF CHARACTER, 1898
By Henry F. Kletzing
A light snow had fallen and a company of schoolboys wished to make the most of it. It was too dry for snowballing. It was proposed that a number of boys walk across a meadow near by and see who could make the straightest track. On examination it was found that only one could be called straight. When asked, two of them said they went as straight as they could without looking at anything but the ground. The third said, “I fixed my eye on that tree on yonder hill and never looked away till I reached the fence.”
We often miss the end of life by having no object before us.
In one of his fiercest battles, it is known that Philip, King of Macedon, lost his eye from a bowshot. And when the soldiers picked up the shaft which wounded him, they perceived upon it these words: “To Philip’s eye!” The archer was so certain of his skill that he had announced his aim beforehand. It is a pitiable mistake, when one comes to care, like a lawn sportsman, more for a stately posture and a graceful attitude than for the mark he aims at.
Once when the British Science Association met in Dublin, Mr. Huxley arrived late at the city. Fearing to miss the president’s address he hurried from the train, jumped into a jaunting-car and breathlessly said to the driver, “Drive fast, I am in a hurry!” The driver slashed his horse with his whip and went spinning down the street. Suddenly it occurred to Mr. Huxley that he had probably not instructed the driver properly. He shouted to the driver, “Do you know where I want to go?” “No, yer ’onor,” was Pat’s laughing reply, “but I’m driving fast all the while.” There are many people who go through the world in this way. They are always going, and sometimes at great speed, but never get anywhere. They have no definite purpose and never accomplish anything.
It is the man that has an aim that accomplishes something in this world. A young man fired with a determined purpose to win in a particular aim has fought half the battle. What was it that has made men great in the past? One dominant aim! Names of great men at once suggest their life purpose. No one thinks of a Watt aside from the steam engine, a Howe suggests the sewing machine, a Bell the telephone, an Edison the electric light, a Morse the telegraph, a Cyrus Field the Atlantic cable. A man of one talent, fixed on a definite object, accomplishes more than a man of ten talents who spreads himself over a large surface. To keep your gun from scattering, put in a single shot.
“The idle pass through life leaving as little trace of their existence as foam upon the water or smoke upon the air; whereas the industrious stamp their character upon their age, and influence not only their own but all succeeding generations.” —Samuel Smiles
The Strenuous Life
FROM THE STRENUOUS LIFE: ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES, 1902
By Theodore Roosevelt
I wish to preach, not the doctrine of ignoble ease, but the doctrine of the strenuous life, the life of toil and effort, of labor and strife; to preach that highest form of success which comes, not to the man who desires mere easy peace, but to the man who does not shrink from danger, from hardship, or from bitter toil, and who out of these wins the splendid ultimate triumph.
A life of slothful ease, a life of that peace which springs merely from lack either of desire or of power to strive after great things, is as little worthy of a nation as of an individual. I ask only that what every self-respecting American demands from himself and from his sons shall be demanded of the American nation as a whole. Who among you would teach your boys that ease, that peace, is to be the first consideration in their eyes—to be the ultimate goal after which they strive? You men of Chicago have made this city great, you men of Illinois have done your share, and more than your share, in making America great, because you neither preach nor practise such a doctrine. You work yourselves, and you bring up your sons to work. If you are rich and are worth your salt, you will teach your sons that though they may have leisure, it is not to be spent in idleness; for wisely used leisure merely means that those who possess it, being free from the necessity of working for their livelihood, are all the more bound to carry on some kind of non-remunerative work in science, in letters, in art, in exploration, in historical research—work of the type we most need in this country, the successful carrying out of which reflects most honor upon the nation. We do not admire the man of timid peace. We admire the man who embodies victorious effort; the man who never wrongs his neighbor, who is prompt to help a friend, but who has those virile qualities necessary to win in the stern strife of actual life. It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed. In this life we get nothing save by effort.
Opportunity
By John James Ingalls
Written by John James Ingalls (1833–1900), a U.S. Senator from Kansas, this poem was said to be Theodore Roosevelt’s favorite; when he was president, an autographed copy of the poem was the only thing besides a portrait to hang in his executive office in the White House.
Master of human destinies am I;
Fame, love, and fortune on my footsteps wait.
Cities and fields I walk; I penetrate
Deserts and seas remote, and passing by
Hovel and mart and palace—soon or late
I knock unbidden once at every gate!
If sleeping, wake—if feasting, rise before
I turn away. It is the hour of fate,
And they who follow me reach every state
Mortals desire, and conquer every foe
Save death; but those who doubt or hesitate
Condemned to failure, penury, and woe,
Seek me in vain, and uselessly implore.
I answer not, and I return no more!
Master of human destinies am I;
Fame, love, and fortune on my footsteps wait.
Cit
ies and fields I walk; I penetrate
Deserts and seas remote, and passing by
Hovel and mart and palace—soon or late
I knock unbidden once at every gate!
If sleeping, wake—if feasting, rise before
I turn away. It is the hour of fate,
And they who follow me reach every state
Mortals desire, and conquer every foe
Save death; but those who doubt or hesitate
Condemned to failure, penury, and woe,
Seek me in vain, and uselessly implore.
I answer not, and I return no more!
“Industry, thrift and self-control are not sought because they create wealth, but because they create character.” —Calvin Coolidge