Advice to young men and boys A series of addresses delivered by B. B. Comegys to the pupils of Girard College — Story, Setting & Ideas

The Paternal Voice and Its Repetitions

Comegys adopts the tone of a concerned elder, addressing his listeners as “boys” and “young men” with a mixture of affection and authority. In the preface, he acknowledges “some repetitions of thought and language,” attributing them to the span of time between addresses and the pedagogical principle of repetition. This is evident in the excerpts: phrases like “duty” and “course of duty” recur, and the moral lessons are reinforced through parallel structures. The voice is consistent—earnest, sometimes stern, but never condescending. Comegys positions himself as a guide, not a lecturer, often using the first-person plural (“we”) to include himself in the moral struggle.

Biographical Interludes as Moral Lessons

Several addresses are built around the lives of historical figures, using their experiences to illustrate virtues. The sketch of William Penn, for instance, emphasizes his refusal to remove his hat before superiors, framing it as a stand for religious principle. Comegys narrates Penn’s expulsion from Oxford, his imprisonment, and his eventual founding of Pennsylvania, drawing a direct line from personal integrity to public achievement. Similarly, the introductory address on Stephen Girard highlights his “hearty enjoyment of sports” and “tender sympathy for domestic animals” alongside his strong will. These biographical passages are not digressions; they serve as extended examples of the moral qualities Comegys wants to instill.

Shifts in Pace and Rhetorical Register

The addresses vary in pace, moving from calm exposition to urgent appeal. In the excerpt on William Penn, the narrative is brisk, recounting events in quick succession: “He entered the army here, and did good service too; and was, apparently, so much pleased with his new life that he suffered the only portrait of him that was ever painted, to be taken when he was wearing armor and in uniform.” Elsewhere, Comegys slows to reflect on broader social changes, as when he notes that “the world has grown wiser and better—there is more toleration.” These shifts in tempo mirror the alternating roles of the speaker: historian, moralist, and counselor. The rhetorical register remains formal but conversational, with occasional direct addresses to the audience.

Readers should approach this collection as a series of spoken performances, each shaped by its occasion and audience. The addresses reward attention to how Comegys adapts his material—whether biographical anecdote or moral precept—to the needs of young listeners. The repetitions, far from being flaws, are deliberate tools of instruction. For those interested in late 19th-century educational rhetoric or the institutional culture of Girard College, these pages offer a vivid primary source.

There’s something steadying about Comegys addressing those boys, as if his words still hang in that old hall. I found myself thinking about how much craft goes into sincerity. Somewhere nearby, How to Fail in Literature: A Lecture — Context and Discussion touches the same quiet worry—that effort alone might miss the mark, and yet we try anyway.