The Call of the Twentieth Century, an Address to Young Men

In Short

This earnest address serves as a manifesto for the modern young man entering a strenuous, complex era. It argues that the twentieth century requires a new type of individual—one who rejects the inherited luxuries of aristocracy and the destructive habits of dissipation. By prioritizing education, personal integrity, and a commitment to "the holy life of action," the author posits that a man can transform his own character and, by extension, the world. It remains a classic of moral guidance, championing the democratic ideal that true power lies in service and individual efficacy.

The Story

The narrative begins by framing the twentieth century as an unprecedented age of energy and interconnection. The author strips away the romanticism of war and conquest, asserting that historical legacy is defined by the thoughts and duties of ordinary men rather than the departure of kings. He establishes a central metaphor: the "afterself." Every young man carries his future self in his hands, and the choices made today determine whether that future man will come into his inheritance or be left with nothing but the wreckage of squandered potential.

The argument progresses by defining the "strenuous age." As the world shrinks through commerce and science, the necessity of choice expands. The author insists that democracy is the only viable framework for this complexity because it treats talent as the nation's most precious resource. He rejects the "few live for the many" mentality, using the cautionary example of historical figures who believed that the laboring class should be kept in poverty to ensure the comfort of the elite. Instead, he argues that progress lies in the "march of the common man" and the rise of the individual who earns his place through genuine accomplishment rather than inherited status.

Moving into the practical demands of the era, the author surveys various fields—agriculture, engineering, law, and journalism—to show that the world is desperate for those who can "do the work." He warns that the "elevator" of life is crowded with people waiting for easy success, while the "staircase" is open to those willing to master their craft. Success, he argues, is not a matter of luck but of selecting a purpose and refusing to be distracted by lesser calls.

The climax of the argument centers on the necessity of a "sober mind." He treats the brain as a mechanical instrument that must be protected from the "miasma" of vice, alcohol, and lust. He portrays these not as moral failings in the abstract, but as physical injuries to the nervous system that degrade a man’s ability to perceive reality. The story concludes on a note of quiet, determined duty. Using the example of Abraham Davenport, who refused to abandon his legislative work even when he believed the Day of Judgment had arrived, the author calls upon the youth to remain at their posts. The final vision is one of a "working paradise" where the highest calling is to live with such clarity and purpose that one can face the end with the simple, unregretful declaration that they have lived gladly and performed their duty with a will.

How It Unfolds

The inheritance of the future The text opens with an urgent address to the reader’s "afterself," the man you are destined to become in the coming decades. It establishes that this future figure is currently in your hands, vulnerable to your present decisions regarding health, mind, and character.

The shift toward democracy The author defines the new century as a period of complexity and connection where old aristocratic models fail to provide solutions. He argues that democracy is the only system capable of utilizing human talent to meet the challenges of a shrinking, interconnected world.

The path of the man of purpose The focus turns to the individual’s professional and personal conduct, emphasizing that work is the medium of existence. He dismisses the "crowd at the elevator" and urges the reader to choose a specific goal and pursue it with relentless, singular focus.

The defense of the nervous system The argument identifies vice—specifically intemperance and lust—as a direct assault on the brain's ability to act rationally. He presents sobriety as a prerequisite for anyone who wishes to navigate the demands of a strenuous, modern life.

The final call to duty The book concludes by framing religion as a "working hypothesis" of life rather than a set of abstract dogmas. It leaves the reader with the image of the stoic laborer who, regardless of the world's chaos, remains steadfastly committed to his present tasks.

The People

The central figure is the Young Man of the Twentieth Century, who stands at the threshold of a new era. He is defined by his potential and his vulnerability; his primary antagonist is not an external villain, but his own tendency toward weakness, sentimentality, and the pursuit of "something for nothing." He is urged to transform into a man of "force" who values truth and reality over the glitter of easy pleasure.

The "Man of the Past" acts as a foil, represented by those who still cling to the belief that the many should labor for the few. These figures—the gamblers, the idlers, and the "pettifoggers"—are cast aside as the century’s progress demands more efficient, honest tools.

The "Master" (or the figure of the Child) serves as the moral compass. By looking toward the innocence and potential of a child, the author suggests a standard for purity and natural growth. Finally, Abraham Davenport is held up as the ideal hero. He is a man of singular focus who, when faced with the terrifying uncertainty of the world, chooses to occupy himself with the immediate, tangible duties at hand. He represents the ultimate shift from the man who dreams to the man who acts.

In Its Own Voice

"So live that your afterself--the man you ought to be--may in his time be possible and actual."

This opening charge sets the moral stakes for the reader, framing the present as a preparation for a future life.

"The Twentieth Century will take it seriously, and it will call for men to do its work."

The author shifts the focus from the martial, glory-seeking mindset of the past to a practical, commerce-driven future.

"Happiness is not a state; it is the accompaniment of action."

This definition of happiness serves as the book's core philosophy, rejecting passive satisfaction in favor of purposeful, strenuous effort.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the supremacy of individual agency. It seeks to reconcile the rapid, often chaotic changes of the early 1900s with a philosophy of personal responsibility. The author posits that the "strenuous age" is not a time for cynicism, but a time for heightened clarity. By treating the brain as a vital piece of machinery and life as a series of specific, duty-bound actions, he creates a framework where success is synonymous with the development of one's own character. The underlying question is not "what will the world do to me?" but "what kind of instrument am I creating to meet the world?"

Why Read It Today

Readers who value the direct, no-nonsense advice of the nineteenth-century transcendentalists—men like Emerson or Thoreau—will find a kindred spirit here. The writing is urgent, rhythmic, and intellectually demanding, favoring the "plain speaking of a living truth" over flowery prose. It feels like a lecture from a stern but profoundly optimistic mentor who trusts in your capacity to do better than your predecessors.

The book is not without its period difficulties. The author’s references to "Anglo-Saxon" farmers or specific historical figures of his day may feel dated, and his intense moralism regarding alcohol and lifestyle choices reflects the specific temperance culture of his era. However, beneath the Victorian-era vocabulary lies a timeless, bracing challenge to the modern reader. It is a book about the "dignity of the present." For anyone who feels overwhelmed by the complexity of the modern world or the pressure to seek instant rewards, this address offers a rare, steadying hand. It reminds you that while you cannot control the century, you can control the man who will inhabit it. It is a short, punchy volume that leaves behind a lingering, quiet conviction: that the most important work you will ever do is the work of becoming yourself.