how to live on twenty-four hours a day- 第4部分

You　say　I　am　dealing　with　minutiae。　　I　am。　　And　later　on　I　will　justify　myself。

Now　will　you　kindly　buy　your　paper　and　step　into　the　train？




　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　V

　　　　　　　　　　　　　TENNIS　AND　THE　IMMORTAL　SOUL

You　get　into　the　morning　train　with　your　newspaper；　and　you　calmly　and　
majestically　give　yourself　up　to　your　newspaper。　　You　do　not　hurry。　　You　
know　you　have　at　least　half　an　hour　of　security　in　front　of　you。　　As　your　
glance　lingers　idly　at　the　advertisements　of　shipping　and　of　songs　on　the　
outer　pages；　your　air　is　the　air　of　a　leisured　man；　wealthy　in　time；　of　a　
man　from　some　planet　where　there　are　a　hundred　and　twenty…four　hours　
a　day　instead　of　twenty…four。　　I　am　an　impassioned　reader　of　newspapers。　　
I　read　five　English　and　two　French　dailies；　and　the　news…agents　alone　
know　how　many　weeklies；　regularly。　　I　am　obliged　to　mention　this　personal　
fact　lest　I　should　be　accused　of　a　prejudice　against　newspapers　when　I　say　
that　I　object　to　the　reading　of　newspapers　in　the　morning　train。　　Newspapers　
are　produced　with　rapidity；　to　be　read　with　rapidity。　　There　is　no　place　in　my　
daily　programme　for　newspapers。　　I　read　them　as　I　may　in　odd　moments。　　
But　I　do　read　them。　　The　idea　of　devoting　to　them　thirty　or　forty　consecutive　
minutes　of　wonderful　solitude　（for　nowhere　can　one　more　perfectly　immerse　
one's　self　in　one's　self　than　in　a　compartment　full　of　silent；　withdrawn；　smoking　
males）　is　to　me　repugnant。　　I　cannot　possibly　allow　you　to　scatter　priceless　
pearls　of　time　with　such　Oriental　lavishness。　　You　are　not　the　Shah　of　time。　　
Let　me　respectfully　remind　you　that　you　have　no　more　time　than　I　have。　　No　
newspaper　reading　in　trains！　　I　have　already　〃put　by〃　about　three…quarters　of　
an　hour　for　use。

Now　you　reach　your　office。　　And　I　abandon　you　there　till　six　o'clock。　　I　am　
aware　that　you　have　nominally　an　hour　（often　in　reality　an　hour　and　a　half）　
in　the　midst　of　the　day；　less　than　half　of　which　time　is　given　to　eating。　　But　
I　will　leave　you　all　that　to　spend　as　you　choose。　　You　may　read　your　
newspapers　then。

I　meet　you　again　as　you　emerge　from　your　office。　　You　are　pale　and　tired。　　
At　any　rate；　your　wife　says　you　are　pale；　and　you　give　her　to　understand　
that　you　are　tired。　　During　the　journey　home　you　have　been　gradually　
working　up　the　tired　feeling。　　The　tired　feeling　hangs　heavy　over　the　
mighty　suburbs　of　London　like　a　virtuous　and　melancholy　cloud；　
particularly　in　winter。　　You　don't　eat　immediately　on　your　arrival　home。　　
But　in　about　an　hour　or　so　you　feel　as　if　you　could　sit　up　and　take　a　little　
nourishment。　　And　you　do。　　Then　you　smoke；　seriously；　you　see　friends；　
you　potter；　you　play　cards；　you　flirt　with　a　book；　you　note　that　old　age　is　
creeping　on；　you　take　a　stroll；　you　caress　the　piano。。。。　By　Jove！　a　quarter　
past　eleven。　　You　then　devote　quite　forty　minutes　to　thinking　about　going　
to　bed；　and　it　is　conceivable　that　you　are　acquainted　with　a　genuinely　good　
whisky。　　At　last　you　go　to　bed；　exhausted　by　the　day's　work。　　Six　hours；　
probably　more；　have　gone　since　you　left　the　officegone　like　a　dream；　
gone　like　magic；　unaccountably　gone！

That　is　a　fair　sample　case。　　But　you　say：　　〃It's　all　very　well　for　you　to　talk。　　
A　man　*is*　tired。　　A　man　must　see　his　friends。　　He　can't　always　be　on　the　
stretch。〃　　Just　so。　　But　when　you　arrange　to　go　to　the　theatre　（especially　
with　a　pretty　woman）　what　happens？　　You　rush　to　the　suburbs；　you　spare　
no　toil　to　make　yourself　glorious　in　fine　raiment；　you　rush　back　to　town　in　
another　train；　you　keep　yourself　on　the　stretch　for　four　hours；　if　not　five；　
you　take　her　home；　you　take　yourself　home。　　You　don't　spend　three…quarters　
of　an　hour　in　〃thinking　about〃　going　to　bed。　　You　go。　　Friends　and　fatigue　
have　equally　been　forgotten；　and　the　evening　has　seemed　so　exquisitely　
long　（or　perhaps　too　short）！　　And　do　you　remember　that　time　when　you　
were　persuaded　to　sing　in　the　chorus　of　the　amateur　operatic　society；　and　
slaved　two　hours　every　other　night　for　three　months？　　Can　you　deny　that　
when　you　have　something　definite　to　look　forward　to　at　eventide；　something　
that　is　to　employ　all　your　energythe　thought　of　that　something　gives　a　glow　
and　a　more　intense　vitality　to　the　whole　day？

What　I　suggest　is　that　at　six　o'clock　you　look　facts　in　the　face　and　admit　that　
you　are　not　tired　（because　you　are　not；　you　know）；　and　that　you　arrange　your　
evening　so　that　it　is　not　cut　in　the　middle　by　a　meal。　　By　so　doing　you　will　
have　a　clear　expanse　of　at　least　three　hours。　　I　do　not　suggest　that　you　should　
employ　three　hours　every　night　of　your　life　in　using　up　your　mental　energy。　　
But　I　do　suggest　that　you　might；　for　a　commencement；　employ　an　hour　and　a　
half　every　other　evening　in　some　important　and　consecutive　cultivation　of　the　
mind。　　You　will　still　be　left　with　three　evenings　for　friends；　bridge；　tennis；　
domestic　scenes；　odd　reading；　pipes；　gardening；　pottering；　and　prize　
competitions。　　You　will　still　have　the　terrific　wealth　of　forty…five　hours　
between　2　p。m。　Saturday　and　10　a。m。　Monday。　　If　you　persevere　you　will　
soon　want　to　pass　four　evenings；　and　perhaps　five；　in　some　sustained　
endeavour　to　be　genuinely　alive。　　And　you　will　fall　out　of　that　habit　of　
muttering　to　yourself　at　11。15　p。m。；　〃Time　to　be　thinking　about　going　to　
bed。〃　　The　man　who　begins　to　go　to　bed　forty　minutes　before　he　opens　
his　bedroom　door　is　bored；　that　is　to　say；　he　is　not　living。


But　remember；　at　the　start；　those　ninety　nocturnal　minutes　thrice　a　week　
must　be　the　most　important　minutes　in　the　ten　thousand　and　eighty。　　They　
must　be　sacred；　quite　as　sacred　as　a　dramatic　rehearsal　or　a　tennis　match。　　
Instead　of　saying；　〃Sorry　I　can't　see　you；　old　chap；　but　I　have　to　run　off　to　
the　tennis　club；〃　you　must　say；　〃。。。but　I　have　to　work。〃　　This；　I　admit；　is　
intensely　difficult　to　say。　　Tennis　is　so　much　more　urgent　than　the　immortal　
soul。



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　VI

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　REMEMBER　HUMAN　NATURE

I　have　incidentally　mentioned　the　vast　expanse　of　forty…four　hours　between　
leaving　business　at　2　p。m。　on　Saturday　and　returning　to　business　at　10　a。m。　
on　Monday。　　And　here　I　must　touch　on　the　point　whether　the　week　should　
consist　of　six　days　or　of　seven。　　For　many　yearsin　fact；　until　I　was　approaching　
fortymy　own　week　consisted　of　seven　days。　　I　was　constantly　being　informed　
by　older　and　wiser　people　that　more　work；　more　genuine　living；　could　be　got　
out　of　six　days　than　out　of　seven。

And　it　is　certainly　true　that　now；　with　one　day　in　seven　in　which　I　follow　no　
programme　and　make　no　effort　save　what　the　caprice　of　the　moment　dictates；　
I　appreciate　intensely　the　moral　value　of　a　weekly　rest。　　Nevertheless；　had　I　
my　life　to　arrange　over　again；　I　would　do　again　as　I　have　done。　　Only　those　
who　have　lived　at　the　full　stretch　seven　days　a　week　for　a　long　time　can　
appreciate　the　full　beauty　of　a　regular　recurring　idleness。　　Moreover；　I　am　
ageing。　　And　it　is　a　question　of　age。　　In　cases　of　abounding　youth　and　
exceptional　energy　and　desire　for　effort　I　should　say　unhesitatingly：　　Keep　
going；　day　in；　day　out。

But　in　the　average　case　I　should　say：　　Confine　your　formal　programme　
（super…programme；　I　mean）　to　six　days　a　week。　　If　you　find　yourself　
wishing　to　extend　it；　extend　it；　but　only　in　proportion　to　your　wish；　and　
count　the　time　extra　as　a　windfall；　not　as　regular　income；　so　that　you　can　
return　to　a　six…day　programme　without　the　sensation　of　being　poorer；　of　
being　a　backslider。

Let　us　now　see　where　we　stand。　　So　far　we　have　marked　for　saving　
out　of　the　waste　of　days；　half　an　hour　at　least　on　six　mornings　a　
week；　and　one　hour　and　a　half　on　three　evenings　a　week。　　Total；　
seven　hours　and　a　half　a　week。


I　propose　to　be　content　with　that　seven　hours　and　a　half　for　the　
present。　　〃What？〃　you　cry。　　〃You　pretend　to　show　us　how　to　live；　
and　you　only　deal　with　seven　hours　and　a　half　out　of　a　hundred　
and　sixty…eight！　　Are　you　going　to　perform　a　miracle　with　your　
seven　hours　and　a　half？〃　　Well；　not　to　mince　the　matter；　I　amif　
you　will　kindly　let　me！　　That　is　to　say；　I　am　going　to　ask　you　to　
attempt　an　experience　which；　while　perfectly　natural　and　explicable；　
has　all　the　air　of　a　miracle。　　My　contention　is　that　the　full　use　of　those　
seven…and…a…half　hours　will　quicken　the　whole　life　of　the　week；　add　
zest　to　it；　and　increase　the　interest　which　you　feel　in　even　the　most　
banal　occupations。　　You　practise　physical　exercises　for　a　mere　ten　
minutes　morning　and　evening；　and　yet　you　are　not　astonished　when　
your　physical　health　and　strength　are　beneficially　affected　every　hour　
of　the　day；　and　your　whole　physical　outlook　changed。　　Why　should　
you　be　astonished　that　an　average　of　over　an　hour　a　day　given　to　the　
mind　should　permanently　and　completely　enliven　the　whole　activity　
of　the　mind？

More　time　might　assuredly　be　given　to　the　cultivation　of　one's　self。　　
And　in　proportion　as　the　time　was　longer　the　results　would　be　greater。　　
But　I　prefer　to　begin　with　what　looks　like　a　trifling　effort。

It　is　not　really　a　trifling　effort；　as　those　will　discover　who　have　yet　
to　essay　it。　　To　〃clear〃　even　seven　hours　and　a　half　from　the　jungle　is　
passably　difficult。　　For　some　sacrifice　has　to　be　made。　　One　may　have　
spent　one's　time　badly；　but　one　did　spend　it；　one　did　do　something　
with　it；　however　ill…advised　that　something　may　have　been。　　To　do　
something　else　means　a　change　of　habits。

And　habits　are　the　very　dickens　to　change！　　Further；　any　change；　even　
a　change　for　the　better；　is　always　accompanied　by　drawbacks　and　
discomforts。　　If　you　imagine　that　you　will　be　able　to　devote　seven　
hours　and　a　half　a　week　to　serious；　continuous　effort；　and　still　live　
your　old　life；　you　are　mistaken。　　I　repeat　that　some　sacrifice；　and　an　
immense　deal　of　volition；　will　be　necessary。　　And　it　is　because　I　know　
the　difficulty；　it　is　because　I　know　the　almost　disastrous　effect　of　failure　
in　such　an　enterprise；　that　I　earnestly　advise　a　very　humble　beginning。　　
You　must　safeguard　your　self…respect。　　Self…respect　is　at　the　root　of　all　
purposefulness；　and　a　failure　in　an　enterprise　deli