An examination of New Year’s resolutions reveals some striking parallels across two eras: the Gilded Age and our own modern moment. What did people more than a century ago hope to improve, reinvent, or leave behind—and how different are their ambitions from ours today?

You might be surprised by how familiar their goals feel, and by what those resolutions reveal about progress, pressure, and human nature itself.

Between leftover desserts and the strange sensation that time has lost all meaning, this is the moment when many of us begin glancing toward January and thinking something along the lines of: next year, I’ll really get it together.

As the calendar turned toward 1900, Americans felt convinced they were standing at the edge of a dazzling future. Cities were electrifying, fortunes were being made, and new inventions promised to conquer time, distance, and even human weakness.

It was the perfect atmosphere for New Year’s resolutions—bold, earnest promises that the coming year, or even the coming century, would be better, cleaner, healthier, and more successful than the last.

During the Gilded Age, resolutions often centered on self-improvement, but not in the casual, aspirational way we recognize today. Improvement was treated as a moral duty. Many people resolved to be more disciplined with their time, to rise earlier, read “improving” books, and avoid frivolous entertainment. Idleness was suspect; productivity was virtuous. A well-kept schedule, for example, was seen as a sign of good character, not merely an indication of efficiency.

Health resolutions were equally serious. The Gilded Age was one of physical culture, when exercise routines, cold baths, and posture training were promoted as pathways to strength and—you guessed it—respectability. People pledged to walk more, drink less coffee (or alcohol, as we'll see), eat more simply, or spend more time outdoors to build stamina for modern life. The uniting belief behind all of these was that a strong body would produce a strong citizen—and a better human being (not only physically).

No discussion of Gilded Age resolutions would be complete without addressing the topic of temperance. Vows to reduce or eliminate alcohol were especially common around the New Year. Even moderate drinking was framed as the slippery slope that could plunge both the individual—and all of society—into eventual chaos and ruin.

Money, too, loomed large. In an era of spectacular wealth for some and devastating poverty for (most) others, many resolved to be more thrifty, save diligently, avoid debt, and live within their means. Advice columns urged readers to track expenses carefully and resist consumer temptations, even as department stores and advertisements became increasingly irresistible. Managing money wisely was, in many ways, an attempt to impose order on an economy that felt at once thrilling and frightening.

Yet there was also a quieter, more reflective side to these resolutions. Some people pledged to be kinder, more patient, and more attentive to family life. Beneath the drive for discipline and success ran a deep yearning for steadiness, for moral anchors and safe havens that could keep a fast-changing life from spinning out of control.

More than a century later, we still aim to be healthier, wiser with money, and more accomplished—but now we also promise to drink more water (which may have been deadly 125 years ago), spend less time on our phones (which were scarce then), or finally organize our photos (other than in big books).

The Gilded Age saw progress as the fruits of discipline, duty, social cohesion, and good order—and cultivated personal virtue less as a personal end in itself than as a very public display of social value. Today people's resolutions tend to be more personal than profound, but both have in common a fresh calendar, a deep breath, and a belief that next year can be just a bit better than the one just past.

As the calendar turns, it’s worth remembering that resolutions have never been about perfection. They are about possibility. People a century ago stood at the edge of enormous change, just as we do now—imagining better habits, bigger goals, and a future shaped by renewed effort and optimism.