The Young Man and the World Part 27

I heard of a banker once who saw to it that at least once each week he hunted up some young man, bravely struggling, bravely fighting, and gave him some little a.s.sistance--a piece of business, an opportunity, needful and kindly counsel--something that moistened his parched lips, dry and hot from running the hard race that all youth must run for success. I said to myself: "There is something in reincarnation; the soul of Abou-ben-Adhem is dwelling in that banker's heart."

For years the greatest pleasure of my life has been that young boys have come to me from all over my State to talk about how they should proceed in life's battle. You, too, may have the pleasure of helping young men. But beware how you do this, saying in your heart, "I will help this young man, and when he succeeds I will reap my reward." Such a selfish thought will utterly poison your advice, deflect your moral vision, distort your intellectual perceptions.

That man who advises a young man with the thought that some day he will be able to harvest personal advantage from that young man's success, has probably by that very thought been rendered incapable of giving sound advice or profitable help. Help the young man for his sake, for the sake of the great humanity of which he is a fresh and beautiful part, for the sake of that abstract good which, after all, is the only reward in this life worthy the consideration of a serious man.

I heard not long ago of a brilliant and crafty young politician who was and is an earnest champion and helper of a very successful and highly practical man in public life. He had acquired some unfortunate traits. He was suspicious, distrustful. He feared betrayal here, a Judas there. The caution increased his cunning but was impairing his character. The man to whose fortunes he was attached called him in, in the midst of a great political battle on which the fortunes of that man depended, and said to his young lieutenant:

"Success in this fight is important to me, but it is not so important as the impairing of your character which I see going on. You are becoming permanently distrustful, suspicious. You think one friend will fail us here, that that friend is untrue, that the other one may be influenced improperly. Very soon you will begin to suspect me, then you will suspect yourself, and then--then, you are utterly lost. Stop it. I would rather lose the fight than see your character become negative."

That man was right, and the att.i.tude he took in his advice to the young man was right. Let the world quit encouraging young men to think that guile succeeds. Let it encourage the faith that nothing but the n.o.ble and the good really succeed in the end. Let every one point out to the young man confronting the world that it is not so great a thing after all to be "smart," not so great a thing after all to be capable with the little tricks of life, but that it is everything to be good and trustful and fearless and constructive.

It will not do for the world to reply that it does, in words, encourage these fine qualities of youth. It does not, except in formal and meaningless utterances--preachments that have not the vitality of individuality in them. Words are very little, almost less than nothing; but att.i.tude and action are everything. The young man would not feel that he had to be "slick," or crafty, or cunning, if the world's att.i.tude did not invite him to such a conclusion. It is the nature of young men the world over, and particularly of young Americans, to be open in life, direct in method, lofty in purpose, and fearless in action.

A very successful lawyer once told me the following--it ill.u.s.trates my point: "I remember," said he, "that when I was a law student one of the most brilliant young men I ever met--one of the most brilliant young or old men I ever met--one day received a client of the firm with a luxury of attention and a sumptuousness of courtesy that deeply aroused my ignorant and rural admiration.

"When the consultation had been finished and the rich client had left the office, this young lawyer, who had bowed him out with a deft compliment which made the client feel that he was the point about which the universe was revolving, turned and said, as he went to his desk, 'There goes the shallowest fool and most stupid rascal in the state.'

"When asked how he could say such a thing after having treated the client with such distinction, he turned with a wink of his eye, and said: 'That is the way to work them. You don't know the world yet.

Wait till you get on in the world; it will teach you how to handle them.'

"That young man had become thoroughly saturated with the opinion that Ferrers, in "Ernest Maltravers," is the type to be imitated--a character of crafty cunning, playing on the weaknesses of men. He had gotten his opinion from the apparent success of the tricks and sharp practises of the law. He had not seen the broader horizon above which only those who are as good as they are capable ever rise.

"It was a fatal method for _him_. He finally failed. It was a fatal method for at least two young students upon whom his ideals and influences fell with determining power."

Of course; and it is a fatal view of life for any young man to get.

The young man who comes out from the enn.o.bling influence of the American mother will not take this view if the world does not compel him to do so. The world, then, should not applaud any feat of smartness or cunning on the part of the young man. It should not wink its eye and pat him on the shoulder and say, "That was very 'smooth,'

very 'smooth' indeed; I congratulate you."

The young man confronts the world with mingled courage and timidity.

It is so vast. It seems so unconquerable. And yet he has been taught to believe that if he meets it with a high fearlessness he will conquer. That is what his mother taught him. Out of this thought and his nervous timidity combined comes what appears to the world to be a senseless courage, a foolish daring. He is very much afraid; he wants to make the world think he is not afraid; he has been told to put up a bold front--and men think him rash and adventurous. He is not--he is only trying to keep you from seeing how scared he is.

In the campaign of 1898 a young man with all of these qualities, and gifted with considerable oratorical power, was seeking an opportunity to get a little hearing. He had just graduated from college, had opened a law office, had never had the shadow or substance of a client, but he had that fresh confidence and the ability back of it which the world neglects until, finally, it is forced to accept it.

I secured for him an invitation to make some speeches in a neighboring State. He was delighted. He went, but returned wounded in spirit by the heedlessness of the State Committee and the indifference of the men of prominence who had refused to notice him. And yet the fine courage that dared take part in the great struggle just beginning was a quality which was more valuable to his party and to the world and to humanity, than all of the schemes of the men who rejected him.

It is this courage constantly injected into the veins of the world which, little by little, is lifting mankind up to a more and still more endurable estate. I shall never be able to perform a higher service than to light again, as I did, the fires of his confidence and young daring.

Let the world not suppose that by encouraging these great qualities of youth which it now heedlessly represses, and only too often kills, it will spoil the young man. The intrinsic difficulties of life are great enough to keep him within bounds, no matter how much encouragement he receives. The very nature of things, and the const.i.tution of society as he comes to examine it in its concrete manifestations, will chasten his illusions.

The rarity of the air as he mounts upward in life will weight his wings at last. The limitations of Nature and of affairs will in themselves be all the chastis.e.m.e.nt he needs to correct abnormal hope, courage, faith, or honor--yes, even more than enough. Let the world, then--the men and women who have won their places in life--let them nourish the enthusiasms and the elemental "illusions" of youth wherever they see them.

After all, they are not illusions; they are the only true things in this universe. The houses that men construct will in time decay. The remorseless elements will rot the n.o.blest trees down to the earth from which they grew. The laws that men make will lose their force and be succeeded by other statutes, equally temporary and futile. Reputations men build will vanish almost before they are made. Civilizations they erect will pa.s.s from their flowering into the seeds of future civilizations and be forgotten, too.

But the "illusions" with which the young man confronts the world at the beginning of his career are as everlasting as G.o.d's word: "Till heaven and earth pa.s.s, one jot or one little shall in no wise pa.s.s from the law, till all be fulfilled." The "illusions" of the young man--of the young American particularly--are the manifestations of that law, the eternal law of the eternal verities.

"The lyrical dream of the boy is the kingly truth.

The world is a vapor and only the Vision is real-- Yea, nothing can hold against h.e.l.l but the Winged Ideal."

Let the world look to it, then, that the exalted qualities of youth which make it indiscreet, audacious, exhilarant--yes, and spotless, too--be not discouraged, repressed, destroyed; for these qualities are "the salt of the earth; but if the salt have lost its savor, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men."

Speaking to the world of business and of society, I therefore plead for tolerance of all the fresh, clean, high, and splendid--absurd, if you will--"illusions" of the young man seeking his seat at the table where all men eat, and where all, at the end, must drink the same hemlock cup.

For if these "illusions" are destroyed and replaced with the wisdom of the serpent, Tennyson's "Locksley Hall" will, sure enough and in sad reality, be replaced by the "Locksley Hall Sixty Years After." Take the young man, then, by the hand, take him to your heart, and, instead of destroying, catch, if you can, some of the glory, the faith, the freshness, the "illusions" of his youth; remembering that Wordsworth uttered an ultimate note when he said:

"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The soul that rises with us, our life's star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.

Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory, do we come From G.o.d, who is our home."

And it is these clouds of glory that still surround the young man when he stands brave and sweet and full of faith, and with his mother's precious precepts and counsels ringing in his ears, before the great old world, wrinkled by its infinite centuries.

But you, young man, you for whom I am asking the world's helpful regard--when you read this do not go to pitying yourself. That is fatal. Do not get the notion that the world is not giving you your just due. If you have such an idea, thrust it instantly from you. If you think the world has downed you, up and at it again. If, a second time, it knocks you out, still up and at it again. And keep smiling.

Never whine--you deserve defeat if you do that.

Be a "thoroughbred," as the expression of the hour has it. After "you conquer and prevail," you will find that the world has a kindly and even a loving heart. All you have to do is to keep in condition and keep fighting. And that ought to be pleasant to any male creature--what more can he want? Just go right ahead with faith in G.o.d, believing in all the virtues and keeping up your nerve. But if you get to pitying yourself, you are lost, and ought to be.

Furthermore, do not succ.u.mb to the fiction that there are fewer "chances" for young men now than there used to be. Never was there a period when there were so many opportunities as there are this very day--_high-grade_ opportunities. They are for high-grade men--and that is what you are, is it not? If not, why not? The calls for men of fine equipment daily rise from every business, and are never satisfied.

And these calls are for young men, too. Indeed, it is not the young man, but the old and middle-aged man who has the right to complain.

The exactions of modern business are discriminating in favor of the man under forty. There are calls for all kinds of men. But the fiercest demand is for first-cla.s.s men. You have only to be a _first-cla.s.s man_ in order to be sought for by scores of firms and corporations--and on your own terms. No! it is not the fact that there are no chances for young men to-day. The chances are all around you.

CHAPTER XII

THE YOUNG MAN'S SECOND WIND; OR FACING THE WORLD AT FIFTY

Life has three tragedies: loss of honor, loss of health, and the black conclusion of men past middle life who think they have failed--played the game and lost. The young man starting out in life has my heart; but the man past fifty who feels that he has failed has my heart absolutely and with emphasis. Apparently he has so much to contend against--the onsweep of the world, the pitying att.i.tude of those of his own age who have succeeded, and, over all, his secret feeling of despair. But the last is the only fatal element in his problem.

As a matter of fact, the man past middle life who has not achieved distinct success very possibly has only been "finding himself," to use Mr. Kipling's expression. Perhaps he has only been growing. Certainly he has been acc.u.mulating experience, knowledge, and the effective wisdom which only these can give. And if his failure has not been because he is a fraud, and because people found it out--if he has been, and is, genuine--it may be that he has been unconsciously preparing for continuous, enduring, and possibly great success, if he only will.

I should say that the very first thing for this man to do is to see that he does not get soured. That att.i.tude of character is an acid which will destroy all success. Keep yourself sweet, no matter how snail-like your progress has been, no matter how paltry your apparent achievements. If you are already soured on men and the world, change that condition by a persistent habit of optimism. All death shows an acid reaction. Hopefulness is the alkaline in character.

Make "looking on the bright side" a habit. It can be done. Mingle with people as much as possible--especially with the young and buoyant and beautifully hopeful. Be a part of pa.s.sing events. Read the daily newspapers. Form the habit of picking out the brighter aspects of occurrences. There is an astonishing tonic in the daily newspaper.

When you read it, the blood of the world's great vitality is pouring through you.

I know a man who is now a millionaire, but who at the age of forty was without a dollar. He is now not over fifty-five. He had spent all those forty years watching for his opportunity--aye, getting ready for it. When it came, his beak was sharpened, his talons keen as needles and strong as steel, and he swooped down upon that opportunity like a bird of prey.

"No," said he, "I did not get discouraged. I was living, and my wife and children were living; and Vanderbilt was not doing any more than that, after all. I felt all the time that I was getting ready. I worked a good deal harder than I have since I achieved my fortune.

Somehow, up to the time it came I had not felt equal to my chance; for I knew that my opportunity would be a large one when it came, and I knew that it would come. It did come."

Business men said for the first two or three years, "What a change of luck Mr. ---- has had! But he is not equal to it. He has never accomplished anything heretofore."

Yes, but he had been getting ready. He had been saving vitality, building up character, indexing and pigeonholing experiences, acc.u.mulating and systematizing a long-continued series of observations and all the potentialities of intellect and personality out of which, when applied to proper conditions, success alone is forged.

And so he gathered to himself great riches, and the poor man of a few years ago is now--of course, of course, and alas! if you like--a member of one of the most powerful trusts in the country.

Get yourself into the current of Circ.u.mstance--"in the swim," as the colloquialism has it. A man of large experience and important achievement said to me not long ago: "I am afraid I am getting to be a back number." That was a distinct note of degeneration. If he thought so that thought was the best evidence of the fact.