E

IV

MERSON said, "There can be no driving force except through the conversion of the

man into his will, making him the will, and the will him." Man's driving power, which conquers nature, harnesses her forces and lifts humanity nearer to the great Cosmic Ideal, is the energy of the free human will, unfettered by tradition or soulless convention, indifferent to mob opinions, but persistent and courageous in striving to perform that which is suggested by indwelling reason, stimulated by the universal spirit of creation and progress. A strong and perfect will is master of the body, lord over all the mind-faculties and high priest of the moral self. The world's work which withstands the ravages of time and survives and grows to the eternal benefit of humanity, has been performed by strong wills with purpose, in harmony with the supreme Cosmic Will. The ideal, or imaginative picture of the goal, can only be realized

by purpose and will. These supply the motive

power and that determined, persistent, unwavering energy which is ever needed in good measure, when new paths have to be opened up, obstructions overcome and pioneer work performed.

Christopher Columbus (1451-1506) had the purpose and the will. His father was a poor woolcomber of Genoa. When fourteen years of age the

lad was a roustabout, then a wharfinger, later a sailor, and at nineteen a weaver; but when twentyeight years old we find him, as a result of self-instruction, making maps and charts. He believed that the world was a sphere and conceived the idea of reaching Asia and the fabulously wealthy land of India by sailing west, thus opening up a water trade route which would be easier to negotiate and offer more freedom than the existing caravan route. After many discouragements, Columbus sailed westward in 1492, with three small vessels whose crews aggregated eighty-eight, recruited from "criminals and broken men." He fought the elements, superstition, fear and the mutinous tendency of his belligerent crew and his dominant will finally triumphed over the hardships, discouragements and antagonisms of the voyage, as it had previously prevailed over the heart-breaking, deterring opposition encountered during the unfolding and development of his plans.

Eventually Columbus reached the islands of the western world-the discoverer of a new continent and a wonderful land that was destined to materially influence the unfolding history of all mankind. He carried letters to the Emperor of China, and when he returned to Spain, he thought that he had been in Japan and had thus proved conclusively by travel that the world was round. He journeyed to find a new trade route, but he found a new world, and mankind will forever be a debtor to the memory of the man of vision, with robust, powerful will, who saw and acted, undeterred and undis

mayed, when all mankind and the elements seemed to combine to challenge his progress.

Richard Arkwright (1732-1792), the inventor of the spinning frame and the father of the modern factory, was the youngest of thirteen children; born of very humble, illiterate English parents, he grew to manhood without education. As a youth he was apprenticed to a barber, and it has been well said that "Fate was in a jesting mood when she decreed that the chief actor in that remarkable social drama, the Industrial Revolution, should be a halfpenny barber." But Arkwright had imagination, even though he was barely able to read and write. He saw what a successful spinning machine would mean and decided that he would not indefinitely remain a journeyman barber, day after day "shaving the stolid faces of lower class Englishmen." He became absorbed in models of machines, worked sixteen hours a day and later added two more hours in which he strove to acquire an education. His wife, Margaret Biggins, "begged him to return to his razor," and when he refused, she smashed the first working model of the spinning machine and later burned other models.

But Arkwright had will and purpose, tireless energy, enthusiasm, perseverance and self-confidence; believing in himself, he ultimately compelled others to believe in him. His health was not robust, but he worked at his self-appointed task unceasingly. McAtherton refused to entertain or even seriously consider Arkwright's machine "because of the rags in which the inventor was dressed." His townspeople rose as a wrathy mob against him,

for his machine, they maintained, if successful, would shorten labor; so the persecuted inventor had to flee for his life and seek refuge elsewhere, after seeing his few worldly possessions smashed and scattered to the four winds. But Arkwright persisted and ultimately won, and achieving the unusual boon of recognition of his services to humanity before his death, he became wealthy and was knighted by the Crown.

Carlyle, writing of Arkwright, said "In stropping razors, in lathering dusty beards, and the contradictions and confusions attendant thereon, the man had notions in that rough head of his; spindles, shuttles, wheels and contrivances plying ideally within the same, rather hopeless looking, which, however, he did at last bring to bear, not without great difficulty. What a historical phenomenon is that boy-cheeked, pot-bellied, much-enduring, much-inventing barber!" It was this man, gawky, fat and unprepossessing, who gave the world the power of cotton and the modern factory system, and with his indomitable will, unwavering purpose and far-seeing vision, revolutionized industrial methods. A poor, unattractive boy, "plain, almost gross, with an air of painful reflection, yet also of copious free digestion," ignorant as regards mental gymnastics and reaching manhood before he could write a readable letter; such did fate select to lead in the world's great industrial revolution, because of his inherent practical ability to perfect mechanical inventions, his latent extraordinary executive ability and his underlying dominant, but nevertheless puissant, genius of organization.