Here’s an improved and revised version:
Mark Twain: "You want to be very careful about lying; otherwise you are nearly sure to get caught."
Advice to Youth - 1882
15 April 1882, Saturday Morning Club, Boston, Massachusetts, USA
This was more of a satirical essay than a traditional speech, but it reads like a humorous commencement address.
When I was told I’d be expected to speak here, I inquired what sort of talk would be appropriate.
I was informed it should be something suitable for youth—something didactic, instructive, or perhaps offering good advice.
Very well then.
There are a few things I’ve often longed to say to the young for their instruction, for it is during one’s tender early years that lessons are best absorbed and become most enduring and valuable.
First, I say to you, my young friends—and I say it urgently, beseechingly—always obey your parents, at least when they are present.
This is the best policy in the long run because if you don’t, they’ll make you.
Most parents believe they know better than you do, and you can usually benefit more by indulging that belief than by relying on your own, often better, judgment.
Respect your superiors, if you have any, and also strangers, and occasionally even others.
If someone offends you and you’re unsure whether it was intentional, don’t resort to extreme measures; simply watch for your opportunity and hit them with a brick.
That will suffice.
If you later discover that no offense was intended, be man enough to admit you were wrong for striking first.
Confess it openly and say you didn’t mean to.
Yes, avoid violence; in these modern times of charity and kindliness, such things are outdated.
Leave dynamite to the uncivilized.
Go to bed early, get up early—it’s wise advice.
Some recommend getting up with the sun; others suggest various other things to rise with.
But a lark is really the best thing.
It gives you a splendid reputation when people know you rise with the lark; and if you get the right kind of lark and train it properly, you can easily have it rise at half-past nine—every time. It’s no trouble at all.
Now, let’s discuss lying.
Be very careful when lying; otherwise, you’re almost certain to get caught.
Once caught, you’ll never again be in the eyes of the good and pure what you were before.
Many a young person has permanently damaged themselves with a single clumsy and poorly executed lie, the result of carelessness and insufficient training.
Some authorities argue that the young ought not to lie at all.
That, of course, is putting it a bit too strongly.
Still, while I can’t entirely agree, I do believe the young should be moderate in using this fine art until practice and experience grant them the confidence, elegance, and precision that alone can make the craft graceful and profitable.
Patience, diligence, and painstaking attention to detail—these are necessary qualities.
In time, they’ll make the student perfect.
Only with these can you build a solid foundation for future greatness.
Consider the tedious years of study, thought, practice, and experience that equipped that peerless old master who managed to impose upon the world the grand and resonant maxim that “Truth is mighty and will prevail”—the most majestic fracture of fact ever achieved by human hands.
For history and individual experience alike are rich with evidence that truth is not hard to kill, while a well-told lie is practically immortal.
There’s a monument in Boston dedicated to the man who supposedly discovered anesthesia.
But many now know that he didn’t discover it at all—he stole it from another man.
Is this truth mighty, and will it prevail?
Ah, no, my friends—the monument is sturdy, but the lie it enshrines will outlast it by a million years.
A clumsy, weak, leaky lie is something you should always avoid; such lies have no more staying power than an average truth.
Why, you might as well tell the truth and be done with it.
A flimsy, foolish lie won’t survive for two years—unless, of course, it’s a slander.
That type of lie is indestructible, but that’s no credit to the liar.
In conclusion: begin your practice of this gracious and beautiful art early—start now.
If I had started sooner, I might have mastered it by now.
Never handle firearms carelessly.
The sorrow and suffering caused by the careless handling of guns by the young are boundless.
Only four days ago, in the farmhouse next to where I’m spending the summer, a sweet, elderly grandmother was sitting at her work when her young grandson snuck in, found an old rusty gun that hadn’t been touched in years, and pointed it at her, laughing and threatening to shoot.
In terror, she ran screaming toward the door, but as she passed, he aimed the gun almost directly at her chest and pulled the trigger.
He believed it wasn’t loaded.
And he was right—it wasn’t.
So no harm was done.
It’s the only case of that kind I’ve ever heard of.
Nevertheless, don’t meddle with old, unloaded firearms—they are the most deadly, accurate weapons man has ever created.
You don’t need to take any special precautions with them; you don’t need a rest, you don’t need sights, you don’t even need to aim.
No, just pick a relative and fire away—you’ll never miss.
A boy who couldn’t hit a cathedral at thirty yards with a Gatling gun in three-quarters of an hour can pick up an old, empty musket and nail his grandmother every time at a hundred yards.
Just imagine what Waterloo would have been like if one army had been boys with old unloaded muskets, and the other army had been their female relatives.
The thought alone is enough to send shivers down your spine.
There are many kinds of books, but the good ones are the ones young people should read.
Remember that.
Good books are an invaluable means of self-improvement.
So, be careful in your selection, my young friends; be very careful.
Limit yourselves exclusively to Robertson’s Sermons, Baxter’s Saints' Rest, The Innocents Abroad, and works of that nature.
But I’ve said enough.
I hope you’ll treasure the advice I’ve given and let it guide your steps and enlighten your understanding.
Build your character thoughtfully and meticulously on these precepts, and one day, when you’ve completed it, you’ll be surprised and delighted to see how perfectly it resembles everyone else’s.
I’ve maintained the humorous tone and sharpened the clarity and flow while preserving Twain’s wit and satire.
Mark Twain: "You want to be very careful about lying; otherwise you are nearly sure to get caught."
Advice to Youth - 1882
15 April 1882, Saturday Morning Club, Boston, Massachusetts, USA
This was a satirical essay performed more than a speech, but it reads like a commencement and is very funny.
Being told I would be expected to talk here, I inquired what sort of talk I ought to make.
They said it should be something suitable to youth—something didactic, instructive, or something in the nature of good advice.
Very well.
I have a few things in my mind which I have often longed to say for the instruction of the young; for it is in one’s tender early years that such things will best take root and be most enduring and most valuable.
First, then.
I will say to you, my young friends—and I say it beseechingly, urgently—always obey your parents, when they are present.
This is the best policy in the long run, because if you don’t, they will make you.
Most parents think they know better than you do, and you can generally make more by humoring that superstition than you can by acting on your own better judgment.
Be respectful to your superiors, if you have any, also to strangers, and sometimes to others.
If a person offends you, and you are in doubt as to whether it was intentional or not, do not resort to extreme measures; simply watch your chance and hit him with a brick.
That will be sufficient.
If you shall find that he had not intended any offense, come out frankly and confess yourself in the wrong when you struck him; acknowledge it like a man and say you didn’t mean to.
Yes, always avoid violence; in this age of charity and kindliness, the time has gone by for such things.
Leave dynamite to the low and unrefined.
Go to bed early, get up early—this is wise.
Some authorities say get up with the sun; some say get up with one thing, others with another.
But a lark is really the best thing to get up with.
It gives you a splendid reputation with everybody to know that you get up with the lark; and if you get the right kind of lark, and work at him right, you can easily train him to get up at half past nine, every time—it’s no trick at all.
Now as to the matter of lying.
You want to be very careful about lying; otherwise, you are nearly sure to get caught.
Once caught, you can never again be, in the eyes of the good and the pure, what you were before.
Many a young person has injured himself permanently through a single clumsy and ill-finished lie, the result of carelessness born of incomplete training.
Some authorities hold that the young ought not to lie at all.
That, of course, is putting it rather stronger than necessary; still, while I cannot go quite so far as that, I do maintain—and I believe I am right—that the young ought to be temperate in the use of this great art until practice and experience shall give them that confidence, elegance, and precision which alone can make the accomplishment graceful and profitable.
Patience, diligence, painstaking attention to detail—these are requirements; these in time, will make the student perfect; upon these only, may he rely as the sure foundation for future eminence.
Think what tedious years of study, thought, practice, and experience went to the equipment of that peerless old master who was able to impose upon the whole world the lofty and sounding maxim that “Truth is mighty and will prevail”—the most majestic compound fracture of fact which any of woman born has yet achieved.
For the history of our race, and each individual’s experience, are sewn thick with evidences that a truth is not hard to kill, and that a lie well told is immortal.
There is in Boston a monument of the man who discovered anesthesia; many people are aware, in these latter days, that that man didn’t discover it at all, but stole the discovery from another man.
Is this truth mighty, and will it prevail?
Ah no, my hearers, the monument is made of hardy material, but the lie it tells will outlast it a million years.
An awkward, feeble, leaky lie is a thing which you ought to make it your unceasing study to avoid; such a lie as that has no more real permanence than an average truth.
Why, you might as well tell the truth at once and be done with it.
A feeble, stupid, preposterous lie will not live two years—except it be a slander upon somebody.
It is indestructible then, of course, but that is no merit of yours.
A final word: begin your practice of this gracious and beautiful art early—begin now.
If I had begun earlier, I could have learned how.
Never handle firearms carelessly.
The sorrow and suffering that have been caused through the innocent but heedless handling of firearms by the young!
Only four days ago, right in the next farmhouse to the one where I am spending the summer, a grandmother, old and gray and sweet, one of the loveliest spirits in the land, was sitting at her work, when her young grandson crept in and got down an old, battered, rusty gun which had not been touched for many years and was supposed not to be loaded, and pointed it at her, laughing and threatening to shoot.
In her fright, she ran screaming and pleading toward the door on the other side of the room; but as she passed him, he placed the gun almost against her very breast and pulled the trigger!
He had supposed it was not loaded.
And he was right—it wasn’t.
So there wasn’t any harm done.
It is the only case of that kind I ever heard of.
Therefore, just the same, don’t you meddle with old unloaded firearms; they are the most deadly and unerring things that have ever been created by man.
You don’t have to take any pains at all with them; you don’t have to have a rest, you don’t have to have any sights on the gun, you don’t have to take aim, even.
No, you just pick out a relative and bang away, and you are sure to get him.
A youth who can’t hit a cathedral at thirty yards with a Gatling gun in three-quarters of an hour, can take up an old empty musket and bag his grandmother every time, at a hundred.
Think what Waterloo would have been if one of the armies had been boys armed with old muskets supposed not to be loaded, and the other army had been composed of their female relations.
The very thought of it makes one shudder.
There are many sorts of books; but good ones are the sort for the young to read.
Remember that.
They are a great, inestimable, and unspeakable means of improvement.
Therefore be careful in your selection, my young friends; be very careful; confine yourselves exclusively to Robertson’s Sermons, Baxter’s Saints' Rest, The Innocents Abroad, and works of that kind.
But I have said enough.
I hope you will treasure up the instructions which I have given you, and make them a guide to your feet and a light to your understanding.
Build your character thoughtfully and painstakingly upon these precepts, and by and by, when you have got it built, you will be surprised and gratified to see how nicely and sharply it resembles everybody else’s.
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