The American Boy

PUBLISHED IN “ST. NICHOLAS,” MAY, 1900

Published in “St. Nicholas,” May 1900

Of course what we have a right to expect of the American boy is that he shall turn out to be a good American man. Now, the chances are strong that he won’t be much of a man unless he is a good deal of a boy. He must not be a coward or a weakling, a bully, a shirk, or a prig. He must work hard and play hard. He must be clean-minded and clean-lived, and able to hold his own under all circumstances and against all comers. It is only on these conditions that he will grow into the kind of American man of whom America can be really proud.

Of course, we have a right to expect an American boy to grow into a good American man. But he probably won’t become much of a man unless he is very much a boy. He must not be a coward, a weakling, a bully, a slacker, or a self-righteous person. He must work hard and play hard. He must have clean thoughts and live a clean life. He must be able to stand up for himself in all circumstances and against anyone. Only under these conditions will he grow into the kind of American man America can be truly proud of.

There are always in life countless tendencies for good and for evil, and each succeeding generation sees some of these tendencies strengthened and some weakened; nor is it by any means always, alas! that the tendencies for evil are weakened and those for good strengthened. But during the last few decades there certainly have been some notable changes for good in boy life. The great growth in the love of athletic sports, for instance, while fraught with danger if it becomes one-sided and unhealthy, has beyond all question had an excellent effect in increased manliness. Forty or fifty years ago the writer on American morals was sure to deplore the effeminacy and luxury of young Americans who were born of rich parents. The boy who was well off then, especially in the big Eastern cities, lived too luxuriously, took to billiards as his chief innocent recreation, and felt small shame in his inability to take part in rough pastimes and field-sports. Nowadays, whatever other faults the son of rich parents may tend to develop, he is at least forced by the opinion of all his associates of his own age to bear himself well in manly exercises and to develop his body—and therefore, to a certain extent, his character—in the rough sports which call for pluck, endurance, and physical address.

Life always contains countless forces for good and evil. Each generation sees some grow stronger and others weaker. Sadly, the forces for evil do not always weaken, nor do those for good always grow stronger. But in recent decades, some notable changes have improved life for boys. For example, boys have become much more interested in sports. This interest can be dangerous if it becomes one-sided and unhealthy. But it has unquestionably made boys more manly. Forty or fifty years ago, writers on American morals invariably complained about the effeminacy and luxury of young, wealthy Americans. Well-off boys, especially in the big Eastern cities, lived too luxuriously. Billiards was their main innocent pastime. They felt little shame about being unable to take part in rough games and outdoor sports. Today, the sons of rich parents may develop other faults. But at least their peers expect them to perform well in manly exercises. Their peers also expect them to develop their bodies, and therefore, to some extent, their character. They do this through rough sports that demand courage, endurance, and physical skill.

Of course boys who live under such fortunate conditions that they have to do either a good deal of outdoor work or a good deal of what might be called natural outdoor play do not need this athletic development. In the Civil War the soldiers who came from the prairie and the backwoods and the rugged farms where stumps still dotted the clearings, and who had learned to ride in their infancy, to shoot as soon as they could handle a rifle, and to camp out whenever they got the chance, were better fitted for military work than any set of mere school or college athletes could possibly be. Moreover, to mis-estimate athletics is equally bad whether their importance is magnified or minimized. The Greeks were famous athletes, and as long as their athletic training had a normal place in their lives, it was a good thing. But it was a very bad thing when they kept up their athletic games while letting the stern qualities of soldiership and statesmanship sink into disuse. Some of the younger readers of this book will certainly sometime read the famous letters of the younger Pliny, a Roman who wrote, with what seems to us a curiously modern touch, in the first century of the present era. His correspondence with the Emperor Trajan is particularly interesting; and not the least noteworthy thing in it is the tone of contempt with which he speaks of the Greek athletic sports, treating them as the diversions of an unwarlike people which it was safe to encourage in order to keep the Greeks from turning into anything formidable. So at one time the Persian kings had to forbid polo, because soldiers neglected their proper duties for the fascinations of the game. We can not expect the best work from soldiers who have carried to an unhealthy extreme the sports and pastimes which would be healthy if indulged in with moderation, and have neglected to learn as they should the business of their profession. A soldier needs to know how to shoot and take cover and shift for himself—not to box or play foot-ball. There is, of course, always the risk of thus mistaking means for ends. Fox-hunting is a first-class sport; but one of the most absurd things in real life is to note the bated breath with which certain excellent fox-hunters, otherwise of quite healthy minds, speak of this admirable but not over-important pastime. They tend to make it almost as much of a fetich as, in the last century, the French and German nobles made the chase of the stag, when they carried hunting and game-preserving to a point which was ruinous to the national life. Fox-hunting is very good as a pastime, but it is about as poor a business as can be followed by any man of intelligence. Certain writers about it are fond of quoting the anecdote of a fox-hunter who, in the days of the English civil war, was discovered pursuing his favorite sport just before a great battle between the Cavaliers and the Puritans, and right between their lines as they came together. These writers apparently consider it a merit in this man that when his country was in a death-grapple, instead of taking arms and hurrying to the defence of the cause he believed right, he should placidly have gone about his usual sports. Of course, in reality the chief serious use of fox-hunting is to encourage manliness and vigor, and to keep men hardy, so that at need they can show themselves fit to take part in work or strife for their native land. When a man so far confuses ends and means as to think that fox-hunting, or polo, or foot-ball, or whatever else the sport may be, is to be itself taken as the end, instead of as the mere means of preparation to do work that counts when the time arises, when the occasion calls—why, that man had better abandon sport altogether.

Of course, some boys are fortunate enough to do plenty of outdoor work or natural outdoor play. They do not need this kind of athletic training. In the Civil War, some soldiers came from the prairie, the backwoods, and rugged farms where stumps still dotted the clearings. They had learned to ride as infants and to shoot as soon as they could handle a rifle. They also camped out whenever they had the chance. These men were better prepared for military work than any group of mere school or college athletes could possibly be. It is equally bad to overestimate or underestimate the importance of athletics. The Greeks were famous athletes. As long as athletic training had a normal place in their lives, it was good for them. But it was very bad when they kept up their games while letting the demanding qualities of soldiers and statesmen fall into disuse. Some younger readers of this book will certainly read the famous letters of the younger Pliny someday. Pliny was a Roman who wrote in the first century of the present era. His writing has what seems to us a curiously modern touch. His correspondence with the Emperor Trajan is particularly interesting. One notable feature is the contempt with which he speaks of Greek athletic sports. He treats them as the amusements of an unwarlike people. He says it was safe to encourage these sports to keep the Greeks from becoming formidable. At one time, the Persian kings had to forbid polo because soldiers neglected their proper duties for the attractions of the game. We cannot expect the best work from soldiers who take sports and pastimes to an unhealthy extreme. These activities would be healthy in moderation. But such soldiers have neglected to learn their profession as they should. A soldier needs to know how to shoot, take cover, and fend for himself, not how to box or play football. There is always a risk of mistaking means for ends in this way. Fox-hunting is a first-class sport. But one of the most absurd sights in real life is the hushed reverence with which certain excellent fox-hunters speak of it. These men are otherwise quite sensible. Yet they treat this admirable but not very important pastime as almost as much of an obsession as French and German nobles once made stag hunting. In the last century, those nobles carried hunting and game preservation to a point that ruined national life. Fox-hunting is a very good pastime, but it is about as poor a business as any intelligent man could pursue. Some writers on fox-hunting like to tell a story about a fox-hunter during the English civil war. He was found pursuing his favorite sport just before a great battle between the Cavaliers and the Puritans. He was riding right between their lines as they came together. These writers apparently think it was to his credit that he calmly continued his usual sport while his country was locked in a struggle to the death. They admire him for doing that instead of taking up arms and hurrying to defend the cause he believed was right. In reality, of course, the main serious purpose of fox-hunting is to encourage manliness and vigor and keep men hardy. Then, when needed, they can show that they are fit to work or fight for their native land. A man may confuse means and ends so badly that he takes fox-hunting, polo, football, or any other sport as an end in itself. He may forget that sport is merely a way to prepare for work that counts when the time comes and the occasion demands it. Why, that man had better give up sport altogether.

No boy can afford to neglect his work, and with a boy work, as a rule, means study. Of course there are occasionally brilliant successes in life where the man has been worthless as a student when a boy. To take these exceptions as examples would be as unsafe as it would be to advocate blindness because some blind men have won undying honor by triumphing over their physical infirmity and accomplishing great results in the world. I am no advocate of senseless and excessive cramming in studies, but a boy should work, and should work hard, at his lessons—in the first place, for the sake of what he will learn, and in the next place, for the sake of the effect upon his own character of resolutely settling down to learn it. Shiftlessness, slackness, indifference in studying, are almost certain to mean inability to get on in other walks of life. Of course, as a boy grows older it is a good thing if he can shape his studies in the direction toward which he has a natural bent; but whether he can do this or not, he must put his whole heart into them. I do not believe in mischief-doing in school hours, or in the kind of animal spirits that results in making bad scholars; and I believe that those boys who take part in rough, hard play outside of school will not find any need for horse-play in school. While they study they should study just as hard as they play foot-ball in a match game. It is wise to obey the homely old adage, “Work while you work; play while you play.”

No boy can afford to neglect his work, and for a boy, work usually means studying. Of course, some men achieve brilliant success in life despite having been poor students as boys. But it would be dangerous to take these exceptions as examples. That would be like advocating blindness because some blind men have overcome their disability and achieved great things. Their triumphs have won them lasting honor. I do not favor pointless, excessive cramming. But a boy should work hard at his lessons. First, he should work for the sake of what he will learn. Second, he should work for the sake of the effect on his character of firmly settling down to learn. A boy who is lazy, careless, or indifferent about studying will almost certainly struggle in other areas of life. As a boy grows older, it is good if he can direct his studies toward his natural interests. But whether or not he can do that, he must put his whole heart into his studies. I do not believe in causing trouble during school hours. Nor do I believe in the kind of high spirits that leads boys to become poor students. Boys who play hard and rough outside school will have no need to fool around in class. When they study, they should study as hard as they play football in a match. It is wise to follow the simple old saying, “Work while you work; play while you play.”

A boy needs both physical and moral courage. Neither can take the place of the other. When boys become men they will find out that there are some soldiers very brave in the field who have proved timid and worthless as politicians, and some politicians who show an entire readiness to take chances and assume responsibilities in civil affairs, but who lack the fighting edge when opposed to physical danger. In each case, with the soldiers and politicians alike, there is but half a virtue. The possession of the courage of the soldier does not excuse the lack of courage in the statesman and even less does the possession of the courage of the statesman excuse shrinking on the field of battle. Now, this is all just as true of boys. A coward who will take a blow without returning it is a contemptible creature; but, after all, he is hardly as contemptible as the boy who dares not stand up for what he deems right against the sneers of his companions who are themselves wrong. Ridicule is one of the favorite weapons of wickedness, and it is sometimes incomprehensible how good and brave boys will be influenced for evil by the jeers of associates who have no one quality that calls for respect, but who affect to laugh at the very traits which ought to be peculiarly the cause for pride.

A boy needs both physical and moral courage. Neither can take the place of the other. When boys become men, they will find that some soldiers who are brave in battle are timid and worthless as politicians. They will also find that some politicians readily take risks and accept responsibility in public affairs. Yet those politicians lack the will to fight when faced with physical danger. In both cases, the soldiers and the politicians have only half a virtue. A soldier’s courage does not excuse a lack of courage in a statesman. Still less does a statesman’s courage excuse shrinking from battle. All this is just as true of boys. A coward who takes a blow without hitting back is contemptible. But he is hardly as contemptible as the boy who dares not defend what he believes is right against the sneers of companions who are wrong. Ridicule is one of wickedness’s favorite weapons. It is sometimes hard to understand how good and brave boys can be led into wrongdoing by their companions’ jeers. Those companions have no qualities that deserve respect. Yet they pretend to laugh at the very traits that should be a special source of pride.

There is no need to be a prig. There is no need for a boy to preach about his own good conduct and virtue. If he does he will make himself offensive and ridiculous. But there is urgent need that he should practice decency; that he should be clean and straight, honest and truthful, gentle and tender, as well as brave. If he can once get to a proper understanding of things, he will have a far more hearty contempt for the boy who has begun a course of feeble dissipation, or who is untruthful, or mean, or dishonest, or cruel, than this boy and his fellows can possibly, in return, feel for him. The very fact that the boy should be manly and able to hold his own, that he should be ashamed to submit to bullying without instant retaliation, should, in return, make him abhor any form of bullying, cruelty, or brutality.

There is no need to be self-righteous. A boy does not need to preach about his own good behavior and virtue. If he does, he will make himself offensive and ridiculous. But he does urgently need to practice decency. He should be clean and upright, honest and truthful, gentle and tender, as well as brave. If he comes to understand things properly, he will feel far deeper contempt for certain boys than they could possibly feel for him in return. These are boys who have begun to lead lives of weak self-indulgence, or who are untruthful, mean, dishonest, or cruel. A boy should be manly and able to stand up for himself. He should be ashamed to submit to bullying without striking back at once. For those very reasons, he should hate any form of bullying, cruelty, or brutality.

There are two delightful books, Thomas Hughes’s “Tom Brown at Rugby,” and Aldrich’s “Story of a Bad Boy,” which I hope every boy still reads; and I think American boys will always feel more in sympathy with Aldrich’s story, because there is in it none of the fagging, and the bullying which goes with fagging, the account of which, and the acceptance of which, always puzzle an American admirer of Tom Brown.

There are two delightful books I hope every boy still reads: Thomas Hughes’s “Tom Brown at Rugby” and Aldrich’s “Story of a Bad Boy.” I think American boys will always feel more sympathy with Aldrich’s story. It has none of the fagging, the practice of younger boys serving older boys, or the bullying that goes with it. An American admirer of Tom Brown is always puzzled by the accounts of fagging and bullying and their acceptance.

There is the same contrast between two stories of Kipling’s. One, called “Captains Courageous,” describes in the liveliest way just what a boy should be and do. The hero is painted in the beginning as the spoiled, over-indulged child of wealthy parents, of a type which we do sometimes unfortunately see, and than which there exist few things more objectionable on the face of the broad earth. This boy is afterward thrown on his own resources, amid wholesome surroundings, and is forced to work hard among boys and men who are real boys and real men doing real work. The effect is invaluable.

There is the same contrast between two stories by Kipling. One, called “Captains Courageous,” vividly describes what a boy should be and do. At first, the hero is the spoiled, overindulged child of wealthy parents. Unfortunately, we do sometimes see children like him. Few things on earth are more objectionable. Later, the boy must rely on himself in wholesome surroundings. He is forced to work hard among boys and men who are real boys and real men doing real work. The effect is invaluable.

On the other hand, if one wishes to find types of boys to be avoided with utter dislike, one will find them in another story by Kipling, called “Stalky & Co.,” a story which ought never to have been written, for there is hardly a single form of meanness which it does not seem to extol, or of school mismanagement which it does not seem to applaud. Bullies do not make brave men; and boys or men of foul life can not become good citizens, good Americans, until they change; and even after the change scars will be left on their souls.

On the other hand, if you want to find examples of boys to dislike completely, look in another story by Kipling, called “Stalky & Co.” The story should never have been written. It seems to praise almost every kind of meanness and approve of almost every kind of school mismanagement. Bullies do not become brave men. Boys or men who lead immoral lives cannot become good citizens or good Americans until they change. Even after they change, scars will remain on their souls.

The boy can best become a good man by being a good boy—not a goody-goody boy, but just a plain good boy. I do not mean that he must love only the negative virtues; I mean he must love the positive virtues also. “Good,” in the largest sense, should include whatever is fine, straightforward, clean, brave, and manly. The best boys I know —the best men I know—are good at their studies or their business, fearless and stalwart, hated and feared by all that is wicked and depraved, incapable of submitting to wrong-doing, and equally incapable of being aught but tender to the weak and helpless. A healthy-minded boy should feel hearty contempt for the coward, and even more hearty indignation for the boy who bullies girls or small boys, or tortures animals. One prime reason for abhorring cowards is because every good boy should have it in him to thrash the objectionable boy as the need arises.

A boy can best become a good man by being a good boy, not a goody-goody, but simply a good boy. I do not mean he should value only the virtues of restraint. He should also value active virtues. “Good,” in the broadest sense, should include everything fine, straightforward, clean, brave, and manly. The best boys I know, like the best men I know, do well in their studies or their work. They are fearless and strong, hated and feared by all that is wicked and corrupt. They cannot submit to wrongdoing, and they are always tender toward the weak and helpless. A healthy-minded boy should feel deep contempt for a coward. He should feel even greater anger toward a boy who bullies girls or smaller boys, or tortures animals. One main reason to hate cowards is that every good boy should be capable of beating up such a boy when necessary.

Of course the effect that a thoroughly manly, thoroughly straight and upright boy can have upon the companions of his own age, and upon those who are younger, is incalculable. If he is not thoroughly manly, then they will not respect him, and his good qualities will count for but little; while, of course, if he is mean, cruel, or wicked, then his physical strength and force of mind merely make him so much the more objectionable a member of society. He can not do good work if he is not strong and does not try with his whole heart and soul to count in any contest; and his strength will be a curse to himself and to every one else if he does not have thorough command over himself and over his own evil passions, and if he does not use his strength on the side of decency, justice, and fair dealing.

Of course, a thoroughly manly, honest, and upright boy can have an immeasurable influence on his peers and younger companions. If he is not thoroughly manly, they will not respect him, and his good qualities will count for little. But if he is mean, cruel, or wicked, his physical strength and strength of mind only make him a more objectionable member of society. He cannot do good work unless he is strong and tries with all his heart and soul to make a difference in any contest. But his strength will be a curse to himself and everyone else unless he has complete control over himself and his own evil passions. He must also use his strength on the side of decency, justice, and fair dealing.

In short, in life, as in a foot-ball game, the principle to follow is:

In short, the same principle applies to life and football:

Hit the line hard; don’t foul and don’t shirk, but hit the line hard!

Hit the line hard. Don’t play dirty and don’t hold back, but hit the line hard!