R is for ‘Rome wasn't built in a day’

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The Victorian historian Thomas Carlyle is fondly remembered to have said, “A great man shows his greatness by the way he treats little men.”

So well said. Profound and entirely relevant in many of life’s situations.

 

Far too often, we see individuals boarding the ship of narcissism, intoxicated by the illusion of their own greatness. Yet, how often do we pause to ask ourselves: what truly constitutes greatness?

 

Through my personal reflection, I have come to understand that without the wick of generosity and kindness, the flame of greatness cannot be lit. Greatness devoid of empathy becomes empty and foolish. Without compassion and altruism, it becomes like a castrated novelty, incapable of bearing fruit, impotent in delivering goodness either to oneself or others.

True greatness must be feathered with the wings of generosity and civility. It is not measured by how much we know or possess, but by how far we extend the wings of empathy to lift others with us.

Rome Was Not Built in a Day 

Yes, this can be a demanding task. But over time, and with effort, it is possible. This truth is beautifully captured by the English playwright John Heywood’s “Rome was not built in a day.”

In the simplest terms, he reminds us that everything valuable takes time to grow.

We have read history of Abraham Lincoln, who became the 16th President of the United States, enduring a long chain of failures. 

We have also heard of Thomas Edison, who achieved greatness through relentless experimentation. Despite repeated failures, he famously replied to his assistant’s frustrations, “I have not failed. I have just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.”

These words possess a quiet magic. For nearly a year, they served as a balm to my wounded self-esteem after a particularly venomous criticism paralysed me.

The Sting of Criticism 

Back in 2013, I posted my very first article on Blogyul – Blogging Bhutan. It was an infant piece, vulnerable but sincere. But it was met with a comment from a stranger that stung like venom:

“Don’t act over smart!”

There was no further explanation. 

Yes, you have heard it right. No reasoning, no kindness.

 

The comment left me numb. I felt silenced. The person who made it, in my view, lacked the very essence of greatness. As a teacher, I believe mistakes are beautiful. They carry the seeds of learning. We are, after all, human, and we grow not by avoiding mistakes, but by correcting and learning from them.

 

Had the critic pointed out my errors with reason or care, I would have welcomed the feedback. I might have even thanked him. But all I was left with was condemnation, which was cold, baffling, and unconstructive. It stripped the innocence from my enthusiasm to share and express.

 

On Criticising With Care 

I do not fear criticism. In fact, I welcome it, even if it is cruel in form but kind in intention.

Shiv Khera has written, 

“So long as the criticism is painful to the giver, they have the right to criticise. The moment the criticism becomes a pleasure to the giver, they have no right to criticise.”

This distinction is vital.

 

In his classic work, Dale Carnegie warned of the dangers of careless criticism:

“Criticism is futile because it puts a person on the defensive and usually makes him strive to justify himself. Criticism is dangerous, because it wounds a person’s precious pride, hurts his sense of importance, and arouses resentment.”

 

History offers painful examples related to criticism. For example, the gifted novelist Thomas Hardy is known to have stopped writing fiction due to bitter criticism. The poet Thomas Chatterton is believed to have ended his life under similar wounds. 

I am neither Hardy nor Chatterton. But if you choose to criticise, I ask only that you do so arm with reasons and intention. 

For as Carnegie rightly said:

“Any fool can criticise, condemn and complain – and most fools do.”

 

Letting Others Grow

If your heart truly seeks to help others, be reasonable in your stance.

Let your reasons reveal your greatness, not just your knowledge or achievements.

 

Before pointing fingers, pause and ask yourself: “Was the greatness in me born or made?”

The truth is nothing is born. Everything is shaped, sculpted, and refined by time.

So let greatness take root in others. It may not look like your greatness, but it has its own dimension and circumference. What matters is not the name, but the substance and scale of that greatness. 

 

I therefore return to the wisdom of Heywood’s “Rome was not built in a day” and Einstein’s “A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new.”