years of age and who is practically the head of one of the greatest
business institutions in the world. He has worked his way to that
position by ability, character, and untiring industry, from the very
humblest position in his company's service. He is a total abstainer.
I know another, also just forty, who is president of one of the
largest banks in America. When I first knew him, very many years ago,
he occupied the position of cashier in a comparatively obscure
financial house. Merit alone has placed him where he is now. He had no
friends when he began, no "influence," hardly an acquaintance. But he
had _himself_, clear brained and steady pulsed--and that was enough.
He, too, does not touch stimulants of any kind.
Or, to get out of that class of occupations--one of the most
successful political "bosses" in this country, a man who makes
politics his profession, and who, just past forty, is in control of
the political machine of one of our great cities, rose to that
position, by ability alone, from the occupation of a street-car
driver. He also is a total abstainer.
Not only do any of these three young men not drink--also they neither
smoke nor swear. And they are types of twentieth century success. The
"stein-on-the-table-and-a-good-song-ringing-clear" kind of man is out
of date.
You see, so nerve-consuming are all the activities of modern life that
only the very highest types of effectiveness succeed. Brain of ice,
hand of steel, heart of fire, clear vision, and cold, steady grasp of
the lever and masterful, and yet a passionate relentlessness--these
are necessary. Stimulants destroy effectiveness; that is the trouble
with them. And you need every ounce of your power. Do not let the
people who talk "moderation" to you persuade you otherwise. We find
many such in what is called "society," where the taking of wine
moderately is universal.
I repeat that you cannot tell what your powers of resistance are.
Unfortunately, many of the world's noblest characters have had nerves
so finely wrought and brain so vivid that a single drop of stimulant
started a perfect conflagration within them. One of the ablest men
this country has ever known, when questioned by a friend as to what
had been the greatest pleasure of his life, said: "The greatest
'pleasure' of my life is the delirium of intoxication"; and then he
went on to say how sure he was that if the fires of desire had never
been lighted in his blood he would have done better work.
All of us can recall such examples in our own experience. Don't risk
it, therefore, young man. Why take the chance? for even if you
discover no taste for it, you will find that there is nothing in it,
after all. Why this hazard of your powers, just to find out whether
you can resist? It is a one-sided gamble, is it not? Even fools refuse
to play when they know that the dice may be loaded.
Don't think that you have got to be a great public man, or a big
politician, or a celebrated scientist, or distinguished in any line,
before these practical truths apply to you. You must build your whole
life upon them from the very beginning. For example, I know a man who
for several years has been exercising ever-increasing power in his
State. He selects his lieutenants with greatest possible care,
consulting with trained advisers about the qualifications of each man
to whom any political work is to be trusted.
Very well. The first question asked always is, "Does he drink?" If he
does, that fact strikes a black line through his name. He is no longer
considered, no matter how capable and energetic he may be otherwise.
For, ordinarily, another man just as effective can be found who does
not have this defect.
This entire chapter could be taken up with these instances; and the
increasing number of them, the remarks I have quoted of that master of
worldly wisdom at the White House reception, the observation of the
great politician about the strong man of his party in another state,
fairly justify, I think, a suggestion to young men that as a
practical, worldly, and business matter they had better use no
stimulants, either alcoholic or others, for others are just as bad, or
worse, than the former. Indeed, alcohol and other various forms of
wines and other like stimulants have had a disproportionate amount of
abuse heaped upon them. Let the young man look out for all kinds of
stimulants.
Weariness, exhaustion even, is no excuse. If you are tired, take a
rest. If your natural energy is not equal to your task, take a lesser
task. There is nothing more melancholy than the spectacle of men,
young or old, attempting things out of proportion to themselves. It is
hard to gage what is beyond one's natural powers, it is true. But if
you feel the need of stimulants to keep you up to the level of your
work, that is at least one unfailing test of your limitations. I must
repeat, for the third time, that all of this advice--no, let us say
suggestion--is made only as a matter of practical help to _young_ men
trying to get on in the world.
It is the mere business side of the question at which we are looking
now, for it is business itself that is working this change. People do
not want a lawyer whose brain is not clear, a doctor, dealing with
life and death, whose perceptions are not steady and natural. People
refuse to ride on trains hauled by engineers who may be drinking, and
so on. It is all a matter of cold-blooded business.
The conditions and requirements of modern society are coming to demand
greater and greater sobriety from those in responsible places, no
matter whether at the head of a party or a railway train. The
spiritual phase, the medical view, the moral, social, and economic
sides of the question I would not, under any circumstances, assume to
deal with. On all these there are various views, none of which would I
undertake to weigh or judge.
And excessive talking! Don't indulge in that either. Politicians are
not the only ones who think interminable talk an indication of
weakness. I knew a liveryman who was also a great horse-trader. Said
he: "I shy clear across the road when a tonguey man tries to deal with
me."
Of course, reserve in speech, particularly in conversation, is so
ancient and favorite a subject of the giver of advice that it is now
commonplace. Literature is full of it. Shakespeare nearly reaches the
crest of it in the advice Polonius gave to his son. But here, as
always, the very climax is the Bible.
"Let your communication be Yea, yea; Nay, nay; for whatsoever is more
than these cometh of evil."
This is not advice to taciturnity. It is not a suggestion that you
should be stolid and wooden in manner and speech. The reason of it is
to prevent you from making mistakes or betraying yourself by foolish
and unnecessary utterance. My suggestion to young men that they
practise reserve in speech is merely a practical and almost a
commercial matter. Do not be "a man full of talk," as Zophar cuttingly
puts it.
There is a loss of authority that comes from incessant talking. There
is a surrender of dignity, which is one of the most influential things
in man's attitude toward and in connection with his fellows. Silence,
or rather reserve, gives a kind of emphasis to what you do. To a great
many, also, there is an index of your character in the quantity of
your speech. It is so refreshing to meet a man from whom you draw the
feeling that he is as deep and as full as the seven seas.
This will never be drawn from any man whose talk is continuous, no
matter if he is an encyclopedia of information and a battery of
brilliancy. A man may be as comprehensive and profound as the oceans;
the point is, that other men will not easily be made to believe it.
His continued sparkle suggests a champagne bottle with its
limitations, rather than the illimitable deep. A good deal of this is
unjust, and comes from the universal egotism of mankind. Most men like
to feel themselves both brilliant and copious; and they want _you_ to
listen to _them_. Very well--_you_ do it; _you_ listen to them.
There is a suggestion of wisdom in reserve of speech which may be
altogether out of proportion to the facts. Are we not all continually
quoting with approval Sir Walter Raleigh's line:
"The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb."
Many a silent man is as shallow as he is silent--but he _may_ be as
deep also; and because he gives no sign as to whether he is deep or
shallow, and because his silence offends no one and is not in the way
of those who want to talk, he is given credit for profundity.
We all know the story of the worn-out, world-tired club-man who said
he was looking for a man who was really wise, really experienced, and
really deep. At last he felt that he had found him in another
club-man--very handsome, especially full of forehead and broad between
the eyes, perfectly groomed, and silent to the point of stillness. The
Searcher for a Wise Man tried to engage him in conversation on a
hundred different subjects. His attempts met with failure; which made
a still deeper impression.
But at a certain dinner one night, where both of these men were
guests, the club-man arranged to have the silent one sit next to him.
Every attempt was still a failure. Nothing more than "Yes" or "No"
could be gotten from the deep one. But when shrimps were brought on,
the supposedly great man colored with pleasure, and said: "Hey,
shrimps! Them's the dandies!" The illusion dissolved.
I do not know whose story this is, but it illustrates my point so well
that I appropriate it. In other words, your permanent attitude, your
continuous impression on the world, is one of your assets, just as
your ability is, just as your character is; and discretion in speech
is a matter of great moment as affecting this impression. I use the
term continuous attitude and impression, because it is a small matter
what your temporary and transient impression is. If it becomes
necessary, talk to any extent required, no matter what the immediate
impression may be. But it is the stream and continuity of your life of
which I am now speaking.
The three distinguished successes cited a moment ago in financial and
political life do not drink, smoke, or swear. Mark that latter
fact--they do not swear. I repeat again that this is no Sunday-school
lecture, but the plainest kind of a talk on practical methods of
success. The money you will lay aside in bank, or the property you
will accumulate, is one kind of an asset; but the respect of men, the
confidence of a community, is an asset also, and a more valuable one.
Very well. An oath never yet created respect for any man who used it.
Even men who are habitually profane always feel a contemptuous yet
pitying regret when they hear a foul word fall from a mouth they
expected to be clean. You want people you live among to believe in
you. They are not going to believe in you spontaneously. You are on
trial every day of your first few years among them. As you go in and
out among them they acquire a confidence in you which finally grows
into an unquestioning faith. Beware how you start, in the minds of men
whose good-will you must have, a question as to whether their good
opinion of you is justified or not. Profanity will create such a
question.
I remember having heard the most promising young lawyer in a certain
town swear in the presence of a conservative old banker who had begun
to "take the young man up" and was giving him some business. The
gray-bearded man of money made no comment, but I noted a slight
lifting of the eyebrows. That young man had unconsciously started a
question of himself in the mind of the man whose business friendship
he was seeking. How did that question run?
"What's this? An oath! I'm surprised. How does this young fellow
happen to swear? Perhaps I do not know as much of him as I ought to. I
must look into his antecedents more closely. What kind of training has
he had? What other bad habits has he had, and has he now? Yes,
certainly I must look into this young man a little more before I trust
him further."
That is how the question ran in the old man's mind. And nobody can
tell whether he ever did completely trust the young fellow again or
not. A subconscious inquiry was doubtless always present whenever that
young man's work was mentioned. No matter whether the old banker's
caution was justified; no matter whether this sensitiveness to the
language which the young man used is reasonable or not--the young man
needs all the respect and confidence he can possibly get. It is a good
thing for him to have the admiration of those among whom he dwells,
but their respect and confidence he must have. He cannot get along
without that. Let him be clean of speech, therefore.
This growing prejudice against profanity is not unreasonable. Oaths
indicate a poverty of language--of ideas. The thief, the burglar, the
low-class criminal everywhere, expresses all his emotions by oaths.
Are they angry? They swear. Surprised? They swear. Delighted? They
swear. Every conception of the mind, every impulse of the blood, is
expressed in the narrow and base vocabulary of profanity. So that the
first thing an oath indicates is that he who uses it has limited
intellectual resources, otherwise he would not employ so commonplace a
method of expressing himself.
Then, too, we quite unconsciously connect the swearing man with the
class which habitually employs profanity as the staple of its talk;
and so he who uses an oath in our presence automatically sinks to a
little lower level in our esteem. We cannot help it. We do not reason
out the why and wherefore of it, but we know it is so.
Do not justify yourself by talking about Washington raging at
Monmouth, or Paul Jones boarding the _Serapis_, or Erskine climaxing
his greatest effort for justice with an appeal to the Father of the
universe. These men all swore, and swore mightily on those occasions,
but their oaths were oaths indeed.
Liberty or tyranny, life or death, justice or infamy, hung in the
balance, and their oaths were prayers as earnest as ever ascended to
the Throne. But that is no example for you, young man. If you will
agree never to use an oath until you have the provocation of treason,
and your country thereby endangered, as Washington had at Monmouth,
there are a million chances to one that the Sacred Name will never
pass your lips in vain.
I knew a man in the logging-camps twenty-eight years ago. He there
acquired that lurid speech which was the language by which oxen,
horses, and men themselves were in those times driven in those rude
camps of rugged industry. My friend did not remain a logger. He became
a lawyer and achieved some distinction and success, but he could not
shake off the habit of swearing. He would find himself "ripping out an
oath," as the saying is, on the most surprising occasions--and they
were brilliant oaths, splendid, flashing, coruscating oaths. His talk
was a very tropic jungle of profanity.
So great were his abilities, so unceasing and intense his energies,
and so upright his life, that he succeeded in spite of this defect.
But this strong, fine man told me that this low habit of speech
delayed his progress constantly. A few years ago, in a great crisis in
his life, he was suddenly able to break the spell, and I think he is
now prouder of his clean words and that mastery of himself which their
use indicates than he is of any single success he has achieved or of
any single honor he has won.
But the newspaper correspondent said the truest thing of all when he
suggested that the really capable and apparently successful lawyer and
politician, observed in the passing throng, had made a mistake in not
having had the influence of woman in his life. There is positively
nothing of such value to young men--yes, and to old men, too--as the
chastening and powerful influence for good which women bring into
their lives.
This is the universal opinion, too. All literature voices it. Wilhelm
Meister and The Old Cattleman alike declare it. "There is no doubt
about it," exclaims the sage of Wolfville, "woman is a refinin', an
ennoblin' influence. * * * She subdooes the reckless, subjoogates the
rebellious, sobers the friv'lous, burns the ground from onder the
indolent moccasins of that male she's roped up in holy wedlock's bonds
an' pints the way to a higher and happier life. And that's whatever!"
And The Old Cattleman even includes the raucous "Missis Rucker--as
troo a lady as ever baked a biscuit."
I should be the last man in the world to suggest that a young man
should keep himself "tied to his mother's apron-strings," as is the
saying of the people; and this is not what I mean when I again
earnestly suggest that he keep as close to his mother's opinions,
teachings, and influence as the circumstances of life will permit.
The same thing, as already pointed out, may be said with reference to
a man's wife--even more strongly, if possible. But the conversation
and opinion of any good woman are, as a practical matter and a measure
of worldly wisdom, simply beyond price. She is wise with that
sublimated reason called "woman's instinct."
There is, too, a human quality kept alive and growing in your
character by woman's association and influence that, as a matter of
business power in meeting the world and its problems, is far and away
beyond the value of the craft of the trickiest gamester of affairs,
business, or politics who ever lived.
It is a saying of the farmer folks among whom I was raised that such
and such a person "has principle," meaning that the person so
described is upright, trustworthy, judicious; that such a person's
attitude toward God and man and the world is correct.
Women "have principle" in the sense in which that term is used by the
country people. They will keep you true to the order of things--to the
constitution of the universe. They will do this not so much by
preaching at you, as by the influence of their very personality.
The man who has gotten out of touch with womankind is not to be
feared. He is to be pitied rather than feared, for he is out of
harmony with the world--he is disarmed. No matter how large his mind
and great his courage, he is neutralized for all natural, properly
proportioned, and therefore enduring, effort.
I know a physician who, still young, has reached the head of his
profession in this country. Sundays and the evenings with his wife
and children are not enough for him; he takes Wednesday also.
Precisely this same thing is done by the young captain of finance and
affairs whom I described first in this paper as being a total
abstainer. This is not done for the rest it gives these men; or, if it
is done for that, it is not the greatest benefit they get out of it.
They come back to their work with clearer and stronger conceptions of
human character and of truth in the abstract and the concrete, with
which all men, no matter what their profession or business may be,
must deal. They have a new tenderness, a larger tolerance, a broader
vision of life and humanity, and therefore of their business, which is
merely a phase of life and affairs.
This particular suggestion would appear to me to be unnecessary were
it not for the fact that I see the increasing number of men who think
that their business or profession or career is the important thing,
and that in these the influence of woman is not essential. They are
frightfully wrong who think so. I am trying to give practical
suggestions to young men. Therefore I emphasize the practical value of
the influence of women.
Remember that most great men have been discovered by women, and that
nearly all of them have had her for their inspiration.
The value of woman's society on character and intellect is above that
of the conversation of the most learned and experienced men. It is the
elemental and natural in her that give a perspective of life and its
larger purposes that man alone cannot possibly secure.
The sum of practical wisdom for young men is to keep close to the
elemental principles. I think Marcus Aurelius says, in his philosophy,
"Let your principles be few and elemental." And here again the Bible
puts it even better than this glorious old Stoic, directing us "to do
justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God."
Above all things, do not lose your confidence in your fellow men. You
are not a very great man if you are not great enough to stand
betrayal. You would better have your confidence broken a dozen times a
day than to fall into the attitude of universal suspicion.
Keep your sweet faith in our common humanity, do not excite your
nerves and intellect by intoxicants, keep close to the saving and
elevating influence of women, and then--go ahead and work as hard as
you please, be as keen as you choose, fight as savagely as you like,
and there is no power that can stay your conquest of the world; for
the very nature of things themselves and the whole order of the
universe are your allies and your servants. But do not get the
impression that you are to be maudlinly "good." Oh, no! that is as
fatal almost as wickedness.
X
THE YOUNG MAN AND THE NATION
You are an American--remember that; and be proud of it, too. It is the
noblest circumstance in your life. Think what it means: The greatest
people on earth--to be one of that people; the most powerful
Nation--to be a member of that Nation; the best and freest
institutions among men--to live under those institutions; the richest
land under any flag--to know that land for your country and your home;
the most fortunate period in human history--to live in such a day.
This is a dim and narrow outline of what it means to be an American.
Glory in that fact, therefore. Your very being cannot be too highly
charged with Americanism. And do not be afraid to assert it.
The world forgives the egotist of patriotism. "We Germans fear God,
and nothing else!" thundered Bismarck on closing his greatest speech
before the Reichstag. It was the very frenzy of pride of race and
country. Yet even his enemies applauded. If it was narrow, it was
grandly patriotic. It was more: it appealed to the elemental in their
breasts.
Love of one's own is a universal and deathless passion, common not
only to human beings but also shared by all animate creation. Be an
American, therefore, to the uttermost limit of consciousness and
feeling. Thank God each day that your lot has fallen beneath the Stars
and Stripes. It is a sacred flag. There is only one holier emblem
known to man.
You have American conditions about you every day, and so their value
and advantage become commonplace and unnoted. To any young man
afflicted with the disease of thinking life hard and burdens heavy in
this Republic, I know of no remedy equal to a trip abroad. You will
find things to admire in France; you will applaud things in Germany;
you will see much in other lands that suggests modifications of
American methods.
But after you have traveled all over the earth; after you have seen
Teutonic system made ten times more perfect in Japan and Slav patience
outdone in China--in short, after you circle the globe and sojourn
among its peoples, you will come home a living, breathing, thinking
Fourth of July.
Of course I do not mean that we are perfect--we are still crude; or
that we have not made mistakes--we have rioted in error; or that other
nations cannot teach us something--we can learn greatly from them, and
we will. But this is the point as it affects you, young man: Among all
the uncounted millions of human beings on this earth, none has the
opportunities to make the most of life that the young American has.
No government now existing or described by history gives you such
liberty of effort, or scatters before and around you such chances. No
soil now occupied by any separate nation is so bountiful or
resourceful. No other people have our American unwearied spirit of
youth. The composite brain of no other nation yeasts in thought and
ideas like the combined intellect of the American millions.
For, look you, our institutions invite every man to do his best. There
is positively no position which a man of sufficient mind, energy, and
character cannot obtain, no reward he cannot win. Everybody,
therefore, is literally "putting in his best licks" in America. In
other countries there is in comparison a general atmosphere of "what's
the use?"--a comparative slumberousness of activity and effort.