The Young Man's Guide

by William A. Alcott

A course not unlike that which I have been describing, faithfully and perseveringly followed, would in nine cases in ten, be successful. Indeed, I never yet knew of a single failure. One great point is, to be thoroughly convinced of its importance. No young man can reasonably expect success, unless he enters upon his work with his whole heart, and pursues it with untiring assiduity.

Of the necessity of improvement, very few young men seem to have doubts. But there is a difficulty which many feel, which it will require no little effort to remove, because it is one of long standing, and wrought into all the arrangements of civilized society. I allude to the prevailing impression that very little can be done to improve the mind beyond a certain age, and the limit is often fixed at eighteen or twenty years. We hear it, indeed, asserted, that nothing can be done after thirty; but the general belief is that most men cannot do much after twenty: or at least that it will cost much harder effort and study.

Now, I would be the last to encourage any young person in wasting, or even undervaluing his early years; for youth is a golden period, and every moment well spent will be to the future what good seed, well planted in its season, is to the husbandman.

The truth is, that what we commonly call a course of education, is only a course which prepares a young man to educate himself. It is giving him the keys of knowledge. But who will sit down contentedly and cease to make effort, the moment he obtains the keys to the most valuable of treasures? It is strange, indeed, that we should so long have talked of finishing an education, when we have only just prepared ourselves to begin it.

If any young man at twenty, twenty-five, or thirty, finds himself ignorant, whether the fault is his own or that of others, let him not for one single moment regard his age as presenting a serious obstacle to improvement. Should these remarks meet the eye of any such individual, let me prevail with him, when I urge him to make an effort. Not a momentary effort, either; let him take time for his experiment. Even Rome was not built in a day; and he who thinks to build up a well regulated and highly enlightened mind in a few weeks, or even months, has yet to learn the depths of his own ignorance.

It would be easy to cite a long list of men who commenced study late in life, and yet finally became eminent; and this, too, with no instructors but themselves and their books. Some have met with signal success, who commenced after forty years of age. Indeed, no reason can be shown, why the mind may not improve as long, at least, as the body. But all experience goes to prove that with those whose habits are judicious, the physical frame does not attain perfection, in every respect, till thirty-five or forty.

It is indeed said that knowledge, if it could be acquired thus late in life, would be easily forgotten. This is true, if it be that kind of knowledge for which we have no immediate use. But if it be of a practical character, it will not fail to be remembered. Franklin was always learning, till death. And what he learned he seldom forgot, because he had an immediate use for it. I have said, it is a great point to be convinced of the importance of knowledge. I might add that it is a point of still greater consequence to feel our own ignorance. 'To know ourselves diseased, (morally) is half our cure.' To know our own ignorance is the first step to knowledge; and other things being alike, our progress in knowledge will generally be in proportion to our sense of the want of it.

The strongest plea which indolence is apt to put in, is, that we have no time for study. Many a young man has had some sense of his own ignorance, and a corresponding thirst for knowledge, but alas! the idea was entertained that he had no time to read—no time to study—no time to think. And resting on this plea as satisfactory, he has gone down to the grave the victim not only of indolence and ignorance, but perhaps of vice;—vice, too, which he might have escaped with a little more general intelligence.

No greater mistake exists than that which so often haunts the human mind, that we cannot find time for things; things, too, which we have previously decided for ourselves that we ought to do. Alfred, king of England, though he performed more business than almost any of his subjects, found time for study. Franklin, in the midst of all his labors, found time to dive into the depths of philosophy, and explore an untrodden path of science. Frederick the Great, with an empire at his direction, in the midst of war, and on the eve of battles, found time to revel in all the charms of philosophy, and to feast himself on the rich viands of intellect. Bonaparte, with Europe at his disposal, with kings at his ante-chamber begging for vacant thrones, and at the head of thousands of men whose destinies were suspended on his arbitrary pleasure, had time to converse with books. Cæsar, when he had curbed the spirits of the Roman people, and was thronged with visitors from the remotest kingdoms, found time for intellectual cultivation. The late Dr. Rush, and the still later Dr. Dwight, are eminent instances of what may be done for the cultivation of the mind, in the midst of the greatest pressure of other occupation.

On this point, it may be useful to mention the results of my own observation. At no period of my life am I conscious of having made greater progress than I have sometimes done while laboring in the summer; and almost incessantly too. It is true, I read but little; yet that little was well understood and thoroughly digested. Almost all the knowledge I possess of ancient history was obtained in this way, in one year. Of course, a particular knowledge could not be expected, under such circumstances; but the general impressions and leading facts which were imbibed, will be of very great value to me, as I trust, through life. And I am acquainted with one or two similar instances.