the universal duty. “We must all toil or
steal (howsoever we name our stealing), which is worse.”
[Footnote: Carlyle’s writings are full
of such wholesome declarations. And cf. W.
Dew. Hyde: “An able-bodied man who
does not contribute to the world at least as much as
he takes out of it is a beggar and a thief; whether
he shirks the duty of work under the pretext of poverty
or riches.” Cf. also Tolstoy, in What to
Do? For example (from chap. XXVI), “How
can a man who considers himself to be, we will not
say a Christian, or an educated and humane man, but
simply a man not entirely devoid of reason and of conscience,
how can he, I say, live in such a way that, not taking
part in the struggle of all mankind for life, he only
swallows up the labor of others, struggling for existence,
and by his own claims increases the labor of those
who struggle, and the number of those who perish in
struggle?”] relieved from the necessity of earning
a living” (unless one intends to use that freedom
for unpaid service), an ideal dangerous to social
welfare, and shortsighted for the individual.
Work makes up a large part of the worth of life.
Drudgery it may be at the time, a weary round, with
no compensation apparent; but it is of just such stuff
that real life is made. What ennobles it, what
gives it meaning, is the courageous attack, the putting
of heart into work, the facing of monotony, the finding
of the zest of accomplishment. There is no such
thing as “menial” work; the washing of
dishes and the carting away of garbage are just as
necessary and important as the running of a railway
or the making of laws. The real horror is the
dead weight of ennui, the aimlessness and fruitlessness
of a life that has done nothing and has nothing to
do. If the thought of the day’s work depresses,
it is probably because of ill health, over fatigue,
unpleasant surroundings or companions, because of
worry, or because the particular work is not congenial.
The finding of the right work for the right man and
woman is one of the great problems which we have hardly
begun to solve. But all of these sources of the
distaste for work can normally, or eventually, be
reached and the evil remedied. In spite of the
burden and the strain, if we could have our way with
the order of things, one of the most foolish things
we could do would be to take away the necessity of
work. Here, as usual, personal and social needs
coincide; in the working life alone can be found a
lasting satisfaction for the soul and the hope of
salvation for society. Are competitive athletics
desirable? As samples of the concrete problems
involved in the ideal of health and efficiency, we
may briefly discuss two questions that confront particularly
the young man. And first, that concerning athletic
sports are of marked value:
(1) They are to any normal man or woman, and especially to the young who have not yet become immersed in the more serious game of life, one of the greatest and most tonic joys. The stretching and tension of healthy muscles, the deep draughts of out-of-door air, the excitement of rivalry, the comradeship of cooperative endeavor, the abandon of effort, the glow of achievement, contribute much in immediate and retrospective pleasure to the worth of living.