Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness - a harsh

William Cullen Bryant, the poet who sought truth in the wilderness and wisdom in the struggles of life, once declared with fiery clarity: “Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness—a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster-children into strength and athletic proportion.” In these words, he reveals the hidden blessing within hardship: that greatness does not spring from ease, nor from lives sheltered from storms, but from the embrace of difficulty, that stern teacher who trains the soul for endurance and crowns the spirit with strength.

The meaning of this teaching is as sharp as iron. Bryant likens difficulty to a nurse—but not a gentle one, not the soothing cradle of comfort. No, this nurse is harsh, rocking her children not with lullabies but with trials, with wounds, with tears. Yet it is precisely this rough nurture that forges strength. Just as the athlete’s body grows firm only through strain, so too the character of a man becomes mighty only when tested by hardship. Without difficulty, greatness cannot be born; without resistance, strength cannot grow.

The origin of these words lies in Bryant’s own reflection upon the human condition, shaped by his life in 19th-century America, a land of promise and hardship. He saw how pioneers carved their way through wilderness not by comfort but by toil, how nations rose not in times of ease but in times of struggle, and how individuals became noble only when tempered by suffering. His imagery of the “harsh nurse” reflects the eternal truth that the greatest spirits in history were all raised by difficulty’s hand.

History itself resounds with confirmation. Consider Abraham Lincoln, born in poverty, self-taught, and scarred by repeated failure in business and politics. It was these very difficulties that nursed him into greatness, giving him the resilience and humility to lead a nation through civil war. Or think of Nelson Mandela, who endured twenty-seven years in prison. The harsh nurse of captivity did not break him, but rocked him into strength, until he emerged not bitter, but prepared to reconcile a divided land. Their greatness was not born in ease, but in suffering.

The imagery of Bryant’s words is deeply evocative. He does not speak of difficulty as an enemy, but as a foster-mother, one who may seem cruel yet who prepares her children for the trials of destiny. She strips away softness, compels endurance, and teaches the will to rise again. Just as the oak grows firm in the tempest, and the eagle gains strength by facing the wind, so too the soul of man grows into “athletic proportion” only when rocked by the rough hand of trial.

The lesson for us is simple, yet it pierces the heart: do not curse your difficulties. Do not flee from hardship as though it were your enemy. Instead, see it as your stern teacher, your nurse of greatness. Each trial, though painful, is shaping you for what lies ahead. Each setback is chiseling away weakness, each failure is teaching endurance, each sorrow is deepening your strength. If you embrace difficulty with faith, you will one day discover that what seemed like cruelty was in fact preparation for greatness.

Practically, this means approaching life with courage. When obstacles arise, do not despair, but ask: what strength is this trial training within me? When suffering comes, do not collapse, but endure, trusting that you are being rocked into proportion, into nobility, into greatness. Encourage others likewise, reminding them that their difficulties are not meaningless, but part of the shaping hand of destiny.

So let Bryant’s words be passed down like a torch: “Difficulty is the nurse of greatness.” Embrace the harsh nurse. Let her rock you, even roughly, for she is raising you not into weakness but into strength. In her stern arms you will grow, and from her discipline you will one day rise with greatness carved into your soul, ready to stand tall among the noble and the strong.