But all work is not Industry. If we are compelled to work against our will, that is not Industry. There must be the habit, and no habit can be fully formed without the mind's consent. Industry is work done with a will; not at odd moments, with wide spaces of idleness between, but regularly as a habit, which is as much the business of life as eating and sleeping.
In the history of mankind, Industry has been a far greater power than Genius. Genius, indeed, has been called "the power of taking pains"; that is, immense perseverance. The amount of good done to mankind by men of genius who have had no Industry is hardly worth counting up. Nearly all the world's great men have been men of great diligence. As Cicero said: "Diligence is the one virtue that includes all the rest." Solomon has the same thought: "The soul of the diligent shall be made fat." It is astonishing what a large number of great men have risen by their own industry to positions of the highest authority and influence. Faraday was the greatest chemist of modern times. His father was a village blacksmith, and he himself was first a newsboy, and then learnt the trade of bookbinding. He became interested in books through making their covers. Turner, the greatest modern landscape painter, was the son of a barber. He left school when he was thirteen; and from that time earned his own living.
Sir William Jones, the great oriental scholar, was a man of enormous Industry. Before he was twenty years old, he had mastered Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese, and had made great progress in Arabic and Persian. He divided his day as follows:
"Seven hours to law, to soothing slumber seven,
Ten to the world allot, and all to heaven."
Hugh Miller, the great geologist, began life as a stonemason. Elihu Burritt, a blacksmith, mastered eighteen languages and twenty-two dialects. Such perseverance and diligence should make us feel ashamed of neglected opportunities.
The main thing to keep in mind about Industry is that it is a habit, and, like most good habits, somewhat difficult to acquire. A boy is given a piece of work by his father. He goes at it with great vigour; but, in a short time, his attention is attracted by his dog, or birds, and he leaves the work for something more pleasant; he is not Industrious. A boy begins his night lessons and works five minutes, and then remembers something that happened that afternoon at play; he returns to his book for five minutes more, and then thinks of the next half-holiday—and so on. Industry means concentration, and he has not learnt anything about that yet.
At the beginning of the lesson, a boy pays close attention; but he soon sees that his nails require attention, or his pencil a finer point, or the nearness of his neighbour suggests a small trick. Perhaps his head is heavy and requires to be held up by one hand, or the hero of the latest story persists in thrusting himself upon the mind, or he wishes he were out camping. Industry is attention; and he has not yet learned how to keep his mind on his work.