Much more difficult to cure is the curse of idleness among the rich. The absence of the need of working, and the possibilities of pleasure seeking which money affords, are a constant temptation to them to live a life of ease. The spectacle is not unfamiliar of rich young men traveling about the world, living at their clubs, spending their energies in gayeties and sports, with hardly a sense of the responsibilities which their privileges entail. Fortunately, however, there is, in America at least, a pretty widespread sense of shame among men about such shirking, and the idler has to face a certain amount of mild contempt. Upon women the pressure of public opinion has not yet become nothing upper-class ladies who spend their time at cards, at teas, at the theater, who think of little but dress and gossip, or of the latest novels and music, who evade their natural duties of motherhood or give over care of home and children to hired servants, that they may be freer to live the butterfly life, are still too little rebuked by their hard-working sisters and by men. We must impress it upon all that the inheritance of money does not excuse laziness; if the pressure to earn a living is removed, there are numberless ways in which the rich can serve, privileged ways, happy ways, which there is far less pretext for avoiding than the poor have for hating their grim toil. In Carlyle's words, "If the poor and humble toil that we have food, must not the high and glorious toil for him in return, that he may have light, have guidance, freedom, immortality?" The rich commonly point the finger of scorn at the poor who turn away from honest work; we may well wonder if they would work themselves at such dirty and dangerous occupations. Many a charity visitor who preaches the gospel of toil is herself, except for some fitful and ineffective "social work," a useless ornament to society who hardly knows the meaning of "toil." If idleness is a mote in the eyes of the poor, it is a beam in the eyes of the rich. Neither blood nor rank nor sex excuses from 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.
(2) When not carried too far, the physical gain is clear. Regular exercise is necessary for abundant health; and of all forms of exercise the happiest is, other things equal, the best.
(3) In many ways there are potentialities of moral gain in athletics which do not result from ordinary exercise. There is the stimulus to intense effort, the awakening of strenuousness which may carry over into other fields of activity. Here, at least, indolence is impossible, alertness is demanded, and the willingness to strive against obstacles. To put one's whole soul into anything is wholesome, even if it be but a game; and the man who bucks the line hard on the gridiron has begun a habit which may serve him well when he meets more dangerous obstacles and more doughty opponents on a larger field.
(4) The lesson of cooperation taught by teamwork of any sort is a valuable schooling. One of the prime needs of our day is the development of the spirit of loyalty, the willingness to subordinate individual welfare to that of a group, and to look upon one's own work as part of a larger endeavor. The man who has learned to take pride in making sacrifice hits is ripe to respond to the growing sense of the dishonorableness of making personal profit the aim of business or of politics.
(5) Athletic games, where properly supervised, inculcate the spirit of sportsmanship. To keep to the rules of longing, to restrain temper and accept the decisions of the umpire without complaint, to take no unfair advantage and indulge in no foul play, to give a square deal to opponents and ask no more for one's own side, to endure defeat with a smile and without discouragement- surely this is just the spirit we need in everything. It is vitally important that unsportsmanlike conduct should be ruthlessly stamped out in all competitive sports, and that every team should prefer to lose honorably than to win unfairly. [Footnote: There has been a good deal of criticism of American intercollegiate athletics on the ground of their fostering unsportsmanlike conduct. A recent paper in the Atlantic Monthly (by C. A. Stewart, vol. 113, p. 153) concludes with this recommendation: "A forceful presentation of the facts of the situation, with an appeal to the innate sense of honor of the undergraduates; such a revision of the rules as will retain only those based upon essential fairness; and a strict supervision by the faculty;-upon the success of these three measures rests the hope that college athletics may be purged of trickery and the spirit of 'get away with it.' … A few men expelled for lying about eligibility, and a few teams disbanded because of unfair play, would arouse undergraduates with a wholesome jolt.">[
(6) Wherever they are taken seriously athletic contests require a preliminary period of "training," which includes abstinence from sex incontinence, from alcohol, smoking, overeating, and late hours. The discipline which this involves is an object lesson in the requirements for efficiency in any undertaking, and excellent practice in their fulfillment. How far athletes learn this lesson and apply it to wider spheres of activity, it would be interesting to discover. In any case, they have proved in themselves the ability to repress inclination and find satisfaction in what makes for health and efficiency; and all who know the implications of "training" have received a subconscious "suggestion" in the right direction. The other side of the problem is this:
(1) Competitive athletics, if taken seriously contests,inevitably take more time and energy than their importance .warrants. A member of a college football or baseball team can do little else during the season. Studies are neglected, intellectual interests are subordinated, college figures essentially as a group of men endeavoring to beat another college on the field. If a man is bright he may "keep up with" his studies, but his intellectual profit is meager; his energies are being absorbed elsewhere. This phenomenon has given rise to much satire and to much perplexity on the part of college administrations. A few have gone so far as to banish intercollegiate contests, asserting thatthe purpose of coming to college is primarily to learn to use the brain, not the muscles.
(2) The strain of intense rivalry is too severe on the body. It is now known that the intercollegiate athlete is very probably sacrificing some of his life when he throws his utmost effort into the game or the race. The length of life of the big athletes averages considerably shorter than that of the more moderate exercisers. From the physical point of view, interclass or interfraternity contests, not taken too earnestly, are. far better than the intercollegiate struggles. They also have the advantage that far more can participate. The problem before our college authorities and leaders of student sentiment is how to check the fierceness of the big contests-shortening them, perhaps, possibly forbidding entirely the more strenuous and how to provide sports for all members of the college; so that, instead of a few overstrained athletes and a lot of fellows who under exercise, we shall see every man out on the field daily, and no one overdoing. This ideal necessitates far larger athletic grounds than most of our colleges have reserved. It may necessitate the abolition of some of the big contests that have been the excitement of many thousands. But it must not be forgotten prelude and preparation for life; they must not be allowed to usurp the chief place in a man's thoughts or to unfit him for his greatest after-usefulness. [Footnote: Cf. Atlantic Monthly, vol. 90, p. 534; Outlook, vol. 98, p. 597.] Is it wrong to smoke? Statistics taken with care at many American colleges show with apparent conclusiveness that the use of tobacco is physically and mentally deleterious to young men. [Footnote: See, e.g., in the Popular Science Monthly for October, 1912, a summary by Dr. F. J. Pack of an investigation covering fourteen colleges. Similar investigations have been made by several others, with generally similar results.] It seems that smokers lose in lung capacity, are stunted slightly in their growth, are lessened in their endurance, develop far more than their proportion of eye and nerve troubles, furnish far less than their proportion of the athletes who win positions on college teams, furnish far less than their proportion of scholarship men, and far more than their proportion of conditions and failures. It is perhaps too early to be quite sure of these results; but in all probability further experiment will confirm them, and make it certain that tobacco is physically harmful as has long been recognized by trainers for athletic contests. The harm to adults seems to be less marked; perhaps to some it is inappreciable. And if there is appreciable harm, whether it is great enough to counterbalance the satisfaction which a confirmed smoker takes in his cigar or pipe, or any worse than the restlessness which the sacrifice of it might engender, is one of those delicate personal problems that one can hardly solve for another. But certainly where the habit is not formed, the loss of tobacco involves no important deprivation; its use is chiefly a social custom which can be discontinued without ill effects. Effort should be made to keep the young from forming the habit; college "smokers," where free cigarettes and cigars are furnished, should be superseded by "rallies," where the same amount of money could provide some light and harmless refreshment. This is not one of the important problems. But, after all, everything is important; and men must, and ultimately will, learn to find their happiness in things that forward, instead of thwarting, their great interests; what makes at all against health and efficiency-when it is so needless and artificial a habit as smoking, so mildly pleasant and so purely selfish-must be rooted out of desire. The great amount of money wasted on tobacco could be far more wisely and fruitfully expended. We shall not brand smoking as a sin, hardly as a vice; but the man who wishes to make the most of his life will avoid it himself, and the man who wishes to work for the general welfare will put his influence and example against it.
H. S. King, Rational Living, chap. VI, secs. I, II. J. Payot, The
Education of the Will, book III, sec. IV. J. MacCunn, The Making of
Character, part II, chap. II. W. Hutchinson, Handbook of Health. L.
H. Gulick, The Efficient Life. F. Paulsen, System of Ethics, book III,
chap. III. T. Roosevelt, The Strenuous Life. P. G. Hamerton, The
Intellectual Life, part I.