Method is more important than strength, when you wish to control

Hear now the wisdom of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, master of verse and teller of parables: “Method is more important than strength, when you wish to control your enemies. By dropping golden beads near a snake, a crow once managed to have a passer-by kill the snake for the beads.” In this lesson, clothed in story, lies a truth older than armies and older than empires—that cunning strategy and well-laid method often succeed where raw strength fails. For the strongest arm may falter before the cleverest mind, and brute force often consumes itself, while patience and skill direct the flow of events like a hidden hand.

The image Longfellow gives us is sharp and clear. The crow, too weak to fight the serpent directly, does not despair. Instead, it devises a method. By placing golden beads near the snake, it uses the greed of man as its weapon. A passer-by, desiring the glitter of treasure, slays the snake not for the crow, but for his own gain. Thus, the crow triumphs, not by its claws, but by its wisdom. The parable teaches us that true mastery lies not in meeting power with power, but in guiding the strength of others to serve one’s purpose.

History bears endless testimony to this truth. Consider the tale of the Greeks at Troy. For ten years they battered against the walls of the city with all the strength of their armies, yet the gates remained unbroken. Only when Odysseus devised the method of the wooden horse did Troy fall. The might of Achilles could not win the war, but the cunning of a stratagem carried the day. Thus, Longfellow’s wisdom echoes the voices of the ancients: strength may begin the battle, but method wins it.

So too in the life of Mahatma Gandhi we see this principle brought forth. The British Empire, armed with fleets, armies, and wealth, towered in strength above India. Yet Gandhi, frail in body but mighty in method, resisted not with swords but with nonviolence. By refusing to strike, by training millions in disciplined resistance, he turned the very power of the empire against itself. The world saw the injustice, and the might of Britain was undone by the method of truth and peace.

Even in the realm of invention and discovery, the lesson holds. Thomas Edison did not outmuscle nature; he outwitted it with method. The Wright brothers did not conquer the sky by brute force, but by carefully studying the movement of air and devising their wings accordingly. Strength without direction is wasted like the crashing of waves against stone; method channels strength as the river channels water, bringing life and transformation.

Understand, O seeker, that Longfellow’s teaching is not an invitation to cowardice, but to wisdom. To fight blindly is to risk destruction; to fight with method is to ensure victory. Even the strong man must yield to age, but the man of method grows stronger with time. To conquer enemies—whether external foes or inner weaknesses—you must not only muster strength but craft a path, a plan, a method by which victory is certain.

Let this be your lesson: when faced with an obstacle, ask not first how strong you are, but how wise your approach is. Seek the golden beads, the lever by which you may move the world without exhausting yourself. In disputes, in labors, in struggles of the heart, remember that method is greater than strength. Build your plan with patience, act with precision, and guide even the power of others to accomplish your aim.

Thus is the teaching of Longfellow: the crow triumphed not by talons, but by cunning; the snake was slain not by its enemy, but by another lured by treasure. So too in your life—choose wisdom over brute force, method over chaos, and strategy over haste. For in the end, it is not always the strongest who prevail, but the most skillful. And that is the true measure of strength.