The Young Man's Guide to
the Harmonious
Development of Christian Character
by Harvey Newcomb, 1847
ON CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH
In one sense, very young people are apt to think too much
of themselves—in another, not enough. When they think they know more than
their parents and teachers, or other elderly people, and so set up to be
bold and smart, then they think too much of themselves. It used
to be said, when I was a boy, that "Young folks think old folks are
fools; but old folks know young folks are fools." Although I would be
very far indeed from calling you fools, because you have already
acquired much knowledge, and have the capacity for acquiring much more, yet,
with reference to such knowledge as is acquired by experience, and in
comparison with what there is to be known, there is "more truth
than poetry," in the old adage. But, when young people suppose it is of
no consequence what they do, or how they behave, because they are young,
then they do not think enough of themselves.
Should you see a man riding with a little stick for a
whip, you would not think his stick worth your notice at all; but the
biggest tree that ever I saw grew from a little willow stick that a man rode
home with, and then planted in his garden. You have sat under the beautiful
shade of a great elm-tree; and when you have looked upon its tall, majestic
trunk, and its great and strong branches, with their ten thousand little
limbs waving gracefully before the wind, you have been filled with
admiration and delight. "What a mighty tree!" you say; "I wonder how long it
has been growing." But the seed of that tree, when it was planted, many
years ago, was no bigger than a mustard-seed; and if you had seen the little
tiny sprout that your grandfather was tying up with so much care, when it
was a few years old, you would have wondered that a man should think so much
of such an insignificant twig. But, if he had let it grow up as it began,
without any care, it never would have been the stately tree it is now. That
was the most important period in its life, when it was a little twig. It
began to lean over, and grow crooked and ugly. If it had not been trained up
then, it would have continued to grow worse and worse; and, after it had
grown to be a tree, it could not have been straightened at all. Now, you
are, in some respects, like this little twig. You, too, have just begun to
be; and now your character is pliable, like the young tree. But, unlike it,
your being is to have no end. Instead of growing a few hundred years, like a
great tree, you are to live forever. And everything that you do now must
have an influence in forming your character for your whole being. In this
latter sense, you cannot think too much of yourself; for you are the seed
of an immortal being.
Did you ever stand by the shore of a placid lake or pond,
in a calm, sunny day, and throw a little stone into its smooth, silvery
waters? Did you observe how, first, a little ripple was formed around the
place where it struck, and this was followed by a wave, and then, beyond,
another, and another, until the whole surface of the water was disturbed? It
was a very little thing that you did; and yet it agitated a great body of
water. So it is with childhood and youth; the most insignificant action you
perform, in its influence upon your character, will reach through the whole
period of your existence.
It will not do for you to say, "It is no matter how I
behave now; I shall do differently, when I am a man." "But would you have a
little boy act like a man?" Not exactly. I would not have him pretend to be
a man, and appear as though he thought himself a full-grown gentleman. I
would not have him imitate the toad, which undertook to swell to the
size of an ox, and in the operation burst open. But, I would have him
manly in his childishness. I would have him courageous, to meet
difficulties, noble and generous in his feelings and actions, and courteous
in his manners, always, in all companies, and in all places, behaving in a
manner fitting a person of his age. A well-bred boy, who knows what is
fitting and proper, and carries it out in his behavior, is already a
gentleman. But the mischievous, rude, unmannerly lad, who pays no regard
to propriety of conduct, will never be a gentleman. And a boy who has the
courage to face difficulties, and the energy and perseverance to accomplish
what he undertakes, is already a man; while the indolent, cowardly,
"I can't" boy, will never be a man. It is my desire, in this
book, to lead you to the formation of a solid, energetic, manly character,
combined with true gentility of manners; and then you will be both a man
and a gentleman.
Very young people sometimes live in an ideal world.
What they imagine in their plays seems real. They have a little fairy world
in their minds, in which they live more, and take greater delight, than they
do in what is real and true. To this I do not object, within certain bounds;
but often it becomes a passion, so that they lose all relish for
sober, every-day life. For such creatures of fancy real life is too dull,
and what concerns realities, too grave. Perhaps they will not like my book,
because it treats of things true and real. But I beg them to consider that,
through the whole of their being, they are to be concerned chiefly with
realities; and therefore, to do them substantial good, we must speak to
them of things real, and not of those airy things that belong to the fairy
land. But real things are, truly, more interesting than the creations of
fancy. The things of fancy interest you more only because they appear new
and less common. A person who has always lived in the country, and is used
to sitting under the wide-spreading, shady tree, would be more pleased with
the picture of a tree than with a tree itself. But one brought
up in the city would cast away the picture, and hasten to enjoy the cool
shade of the beautiful tree. A castle in the air may please the fancy; but
you need a real house to live in.