{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_17956/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_17956","id":"gutenberg_17956","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17956","summary":null,"tags":["Amusements","Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics"],"text":"Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Sjaani and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nRECREATION\n\nBY\n\nVISCOUNT GREY OF FALLODON, K.G.\n\nBOSTON AND NEW YORK\nHOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY\n_The Riverside Press Cambridge_\n\nCOPYRIGHT, 1920, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY\n\nALL RIGHTS RESERVED\n\n     *    *    *    *    *\n\nThe Riverside Press\nCAMBRIDGE - MASSACHUSETTS\nPRINTED IN THE U.S.A.\n\n\n\nADDRESS DELIVERED AT\nTHE HARVARD UNION\nDECEMBER 8, 1919\n\n\n\nRECREATION\n\n\nIt is sometimes said that this is a pleasure-seeking age. Whether it be\na pleasure-seeking age or not, I doubt whether it is a pleasure-finding\nage. We are supposed to have great advantages in many ways over our\npredecessors. There is, on the whole, less poverty and more wealth.\nThere are supposed to be more opportunities for enjoyment: there are\nmoving pictures, motor-cars, and many other things which are now\nconsidered means of enjoyment and which our ancestors did not possess,\nbut I do not judge from what I read in the newspapers that there is more\ncontent. Indeed, we seem to be living in an age of discontent. It seems\nto be rather on the increase than otherwise and is a subject of general\ncomplaint. If so it is worth while considering what it is that makes\npeople happy, what they can do to make themselves happy, and it is from\nthat point of view that I wish to speak on recreation.\n\nLet it be admitted that recreation is only one of the things that make\nfor happiness in life. I do not even recommend it as the most important.\nThere are at least four other things which are more or less under our\nown control and which are essential to happiness. The first is some\nmoral standard by which to guide our actions. The second is some\nsatisfactory home life in the form of good relations with family or\nfriends. The third is some form of work which justifies our existence to\nour own country and makes us good citizens. The fourth thing is some\ndegree of leisure and the use of it in some way that makes us happy. To\nsucceed in making a good use of our leisure will not compensate for\nfailure in any one of the other three things to which I have referred,\nbut a reasonable amount of leisure and a good use of it is an important\ncontribution to a happy life. How is this happy use of leisure to be\nensured? We sometimes meet people who do not seem to know what to do\nwith their spare time. They are like the man of whom it was said, \"He\ndoesn't know what he wants, and he won't be happy till he gets it.\" The\nfirst thing, therefore, is to take ourselves out of that category, to\nknow definitely what we want, and to make sure it is something that will\nmake us happy when we get it; and that is the beginning of recreation.\nYou are entitled to say to me, \"That is all very well as a general piece\nof advice, but tell us how you have followed and applied it yourself\";\nand it would not be fair for me to shrink from answering that question.\nIn one respect I must plead failure. I have been a failure as regards\ngolf, not because I did not succeed, but because I did not want to\nsucceed. I have a great respect for golf. I am sure it is very good for\nmany people; I know very many good people who play golf; but it so\nhappens that it does not give me a good time, and so I leave the\nrecommendation of it to people who can speak of it with more\nappreciation.\n\nBut I do recommend some game or games as a part of recreation. As long\nas I could see to play and had sufficient leisure, I enjoyed immensely\nthe game of real or court tennis, a very ancient game, requiring\nactivity as well as skill, a game in which Americans may take interest\nand some pride, because for the first time, at any rate, in the recent\nhistory of the game, an amateur is champion of the world and that\namateur is an American. The English are sometimes criticised for paying\ntoo much attention to games. A British officer whom I know well, who\nhappened to be in Africa at the outbreak of the war and took part in the\nfighting there, tells me that in one of the German posts captured by\nthe British there was found a map made by the Germans and showing Africa\nas it was to be when the war was over. The greater part of Africa had\nbecome German, and there was nothing left for the British excepting a\nsmall patch in the middle of the Sahara Desert which was marked\n\"Footballplatz for the English.\" Football is a national game in America\nas well as in England, but I do not suppose that either you or we think\nthat our soldiers fought any worse in the war for having been fond of\nfootball. I put games definitely as a desirable part of recreation, and\nI would say have one or more games of which you are fond, but let them,\nat any rate in youth, be games which test the wind, the staying power,\nand the activity of the whole body, as well as skill.\n\nSport shall be mentioned next. I have had a liking for more than one\nform of sport, but an actual passion for salmon and trout fishing.\nPerhaps the following little confidence will give some idea how keen the\npassion has been. The best salmon and trout fishing in Great Britain\nends in September. The best salmon fishing begins again in March. In my\nopinion the very best of all is to be had in March and April. In October\nI used to find myself looking forward to salmon fishing in the next\nMarch and beginning to spend my spare time thinking about it. I lay\nawake in bed fishing in imagination the pools which I was not going to\nsee before March at the earliest, till I felt I was spending too much\ntime, not in actual fishing, but in sheer looking forward to it. I made\na rule, therefore, that I would not fish pools in imagination before the\nfirst of January, so that I might not spend more than two months of\nspare time in anticipation alone. Salmon fishing as I have enjoyed it,\nfishing not from a boat, but from one's feet, either on the bank or\nwading deep in the stream, is a glorious and sustained exercise for the\nwhole body, as well as being an exciting sport; but many of my friends\ndo not care for it. To them I say, as one who was fond of George\nMeredith's novels once said to a man who complained that he could not\nread them, \"Why should you?\" If you do not care for fishing, do not\nfish. Why should you? But if we are to be quits and you are to be on the\nsame happy level as I have been, then find something for yourself which\nyou like as much as I like fishing.\n\nThere are many other subjects for recreation. I cannot even mention them\nall, much less discuss any of them adequately. But I must mention for a\nhigh place in recreation the pleasure of gardening, if you are fond of\nit. Bacon says, \"God Almighty first planted a garden, and indeed it is\nthe purest of human pleasures.\" It is one of those pleasures which\nfollow the law of increasing and not of diminishing returns. The more\nyou develop it and the more you know about it, the more absorbing is the\ninterest of it. There is no season of the year at which the interest\nceases and no time of life, so long as sight remains, at which we are\ntoo old to enjoy it.\n\nI have now mentioned games, sport, and gardening. No one perhaps has\ntime or opportunity to enjoy all three to the full. A few people may\nhave sufficient range of temperament to care for all three, but many\npeople--I would say most people--who have opportunity may find, at any\nrate in one of them, something that will contribute to their happiness.\nI will pass now to a subject which is more important still.\n\nBooks are the greatest and the most satisfactory of recreations. I mean\nthe use of books for pleasure. Without books, without having acquired\nthe power of reading for pleasure, none of us can be independent, but\nif we can read we have a sure defence against boredom in solitude. If we\nhave not that defence, we are dependent on the charity of family,\nfriends, or even strangers, to save us from boredom; but if we can find\ndelight in reading, even a long railway journey alone ceases to be\ntedious, and long winter evenings to ourselves are an inexhaustible\nopportunity for pleasure.\n\nPoetry is the greatest literature, and pleasure in poetry is the\ngreatest of literary pleasures. It is also the least easy to attain and\nthere are some people who never do attain it. I met some one the other\nday who did not care for poetry at all; it gave her no pleasure, no\nsatisfaction, and only caused her to reflect how much better the\nthought, so it seemed to her, could be expressed in prose. In the same\nway there are people who care nothing for music. I knew one Englishman\nof whom it was said that he knew only two tunes: one was the national\nanthem, \"God Save the King,\" and the other wasn't. We cannot help these\npeople if they do not care for poetry or music, but I may offer you one\nor two suggestions founded on my own experience with regard to poetry.\nThere is much poetry for which most of us do not care, but with a little\ntrouble when we are young we may find one or two poets whose poetry, if\nwe get to know it well, will mean very much to us and become part of\nourselves. Poetry does not become intimate to us through the intellect\nalone; it comes to us through temperament, one might almost say enters\nus through the pores of the skin, and it is as if when we get older our\nskin becomes dry and our temperament hard and we can read only with the\nhead. It is when we are young, before we reach the age of thirty-five,\nthat we must find out the great poet or poets who have really written\nspecially for us; and if we are happy enough to find one poet who seems\nto express things which we have consciously felt in our own personal\nexperience, or to have revealed to us things within ourselves of which\nwe were unconscious until we found them expressed in poetry, we have\nindeed got a great possession. The love for such poetry which comes to\nus when we are young will not disappear as we get older; it will remain\nin us, becoming an intimate part of our own being, and will be an\nassured source of strength, consolation, and delight.\n\nThere is another branch of literature to which I must make a passing\nreference: it is that of philosophy. I am bound to refer to it here\nbecause I know two men, both of them distinguished in public life, who\nfind real recreation and spend leisure time when they have it in reading\nand writing philosophy. They are both living and I have not their\npermission to mention their names, but as I admire them I mention their\nrecreation, though with an admiration entirely untinged by envy. An\nOxford professor is alleged to have said that every one should know\nenough philosophy to find that he can do without it. I do not go quite\nso far as that. When I was an undergraduate at Oxford I read Plato\nbecause I was made to read it. After I left Oxford I read Plato again to\nsee if I liked it. I did like it so much that I have never found the\nsame pleasure in other philosophical writers. I hope you will not think\nthat I am talking flippantly. I am talking very seriously--about\nrecreation, and I feel bound to mention philosophy in connection with it\nout of respect to my friends, but I do not lay much stress upon it as a\nmeans of recreation.\n\nI come now to the main source of literary recreation in reading: the\ngreat books of all time on which one generation after another has set\nthe seal of excellence so that we know them certainly to be worth\nreading. There is a wide and varied choice, and it is amongst the old\nbooks that the surest and most lasting recreation is to be found. Some\none has said, \"Whenever a new book comes out read an old one.\" We need\nnot take that too literally, but we should give the old and proved books\nthe preference. Some one, I think it was Isaac Disraeli, said that he\nwho did not make himself acquainted with the best thoughts of the\ngreatest writers would one day be mortified to observe that his best\nthoughts are their indifferent ones, and it is from the great books that\nhave stood the test of time that we shall get, not only the most lasting\npleasure, but a standard by which to measure our own thoughts, the\nthoughts of others, and the excellence of the literature of our own day.\nSome years ago, when I was Secretary for Foreign Affairs in England,\nwhen holidays were often long in coming, short and precious when they\ndid come, when work was hard and exhausting and disagreeable, I found\nit a good plan when I got home to my library in the country to have\nthree books on hand for recreation. One of them used to be one of those\ngreat books of all time dealing with great events or great thoughts of\npast generations. I mention Gibbon's \"Decline and Fall of the Roman\nEmpire\" as an instance of one such book, which had an atmosphere of\ngreatness into which one passed right out of the worries of party\npolitics and official work. Such books take one away to another world\nwhere one finds not only pleasure, but rest. \"I like large still books,\"\nTennyson is reported to have said. And great books not only give\npleasure and rest, but better perspective of the events of our own time.\nI must warn you that Gibbon has been called dull. It is alleged that\nSheridan, a man of brilliant wit, said so, and when a friend reminded\nhim that in a famous speech he had paid Gibbon the compliment of\nspeaking of the \"luminous page of Gibbon,\" Sheridan said he must have\nmeant to say \"voluminous.\" If you take the same view of Gibbon, find\nsome other great author whom you do not find dull. There is a host of\ngreat writers to choose from. There are plenty of signposts to direct us\nto old books of interest and value. They have well-known names, and so\nthey stand out and are known like great peaks in mountain ranges of the\nhuman intellect.\n\nThe second of my books would also be an old book, a novel which had been\napproved by successive generations. The third would be some modern book,\nwhether serious or light, and in modern books the choice is not so easy.\nThere are many that are excellent, but there are many in which we may\nfind neither pleasure nor profit. If our leisure is short we have not\nmuch time to experiment. The less spare time we have, the more precious\nit is, and we do not want to waste any of it in experimenting with\nmodern books which we do not find profitable. It is worth while to\ncultivate a few friends whose intelligence we can respect and whose\ntaste is sympathetic and who read, and to get from them from time to\ntime the names of modern books which they have read and found good. I\nhave had too little time for reading, but that my advice may not be\nentirely academic I will recommend you, at any rate, one good modern\nnovel. Its name is \"The Bent Twig,\" the authoress is Dorothy Canfield,\nand I can tell you nothing except that she is an American, but the book\nseems to me one of the best pieces of work in novel writing that has\nhappened to come under my own observation recently. There are others, no\ndoubt, in plenty, and if you get half a dozen friends who are fond of\nreading each to recommend you one book as I have done, you will have\nprovision for a little time to come.\n\nTo conclude my suggestions about reading I would urge this. Like all the\nbest things in life, the recreation of reading needs a little planning.\nWhen we have a holiday in prospect we make plans beforehand so that when\nthe time comes we may know exactly where we want to go, what we want to\ndo, how the holiday is to be spent, and have all our preparations ready.\nIf we do not do that the holiday finds us unprepared and the greater\npart of it is wasted. So with our spare time, our casual leisure. Do not\nlet it find us unprepared. It is a good plan to make a list of books\nwhich either from our own thought, our own experience, or the\nrecommendation of friends, we feel a desire to read. We should have one\nor two of these books always at hand, and have them in mind, too, as\nsomething which we are longing to read at the first opportunity. I\nthink some people lose the habit and pleasure of reading because they do\nnot take this trouble and make no plan, and when the spare evening or\nthe long railway journey or the wet day comes it finds them without any\nbook in anticipation, and they pick up a newspaper or a magazine, not\nbecause they specially want to read it, but because they have nothing\npresent to their minds or at hand which they really care for. The habit\nof planning ahead is essential to real cultivation of the pleasure of\nreading, just as essential as planning is for sport or travel or games\nor any of the other pleasures of life. I know friends who are fond of\nsport. They choose a long time beforehand the river they will fish or\nthe sort of shooting they will pursue. Another friend likes travel and\nplans months in advance where he will go and what he will see. Without\nthis fore-thought and planning they would not get their pleasure, and so\nit is with reading. If we once acquire the habit of planning, we find\nout increasingly what it is that we like, and our difficulty at any\nspare moment is not to find some book that we are longing to read, but\nto choose which book of those to which we are looking forward in\nanticipation we shall take first.\n\nI have spoken about planning for a holiday, and I will give an instance\nof how thoroughly President Roosevelt planned for a holiday. Several\nyears ago when I was at the Foreign Office in London, I got a letter\nfrom Mr. Bryce, who was then British Ambassador at Washington, saying\nthat President Roosevelt intended to travel as soon as he was out of\noffice. He was going to travel in Africa, to visit Europe, and to come\nto England, and he was planning his holiday so minutely as to time his\nvisit to England for the spring, when the birds would be in full song\nand he could hear them. For this purpose he wanted it to be arranged\nthat somebody who knew the songs of the English birds should go for a\nwalk with him in the country, and as the songs were heard tell him what\nthe birds were. That is a pretty good instance of thorough planning in\nadvance for a holiday. It seemed to me very attractive that the\nexecutive head of the most powerful country in the world should have\nthis simple, healthy, touching desire to hear the songs of birds, and I\nwrote back at once to Mr. Bryce to say that when President Roosevelt\ncame to England I should be delighted to do for him what he wanted. It\nis no more a necessary qualification for the Secretary for Foreign\nAffairs in London than it is for the President of the United States that\nhe should know the songs of the birds, and it is an amusing coincidence\nthat we should have been able to arrange this little matter\nsatisfactorily between us as if it were part of our official duties,\nwithout feeling obliged to call in experts.\n\nTime passed, and when the President retired from office he went to\nAfrica and had much big-game shooting and travel there. Then he came by\nway of the Sudan and Egypt to Europe. The leading countries of Europe\nwere stirred to do him honour, England not less than others. He had a\ngreat reception and everywhere a programme of great and dignified\ncharacter was arranged for him. European newspapers were full of it long\nbefore he got to England, and I thought this little walk to hear the\nsongs of English birds suggested some two years previously would be\nforgotten and crowded out by greater matters. But it was not so. Without\nany reminder on my part I got an intimation from the English friend who\nwas to be Colonel Roosevelt's host in London that Colonel Roosevelt had\nwritten to him to say that this promise had been made and that he wished\ntime to be found for the fulfilment of it. I saw Colonel Roosevelt once\nsoon after he came to London. The day was arranged and at the appointed\ntime we met at Waterloo Station. We had to ask the newspaper reporters\nnot to go with us, not because it made any difference to Colonel\nRoosevelt, but because birds are not so tame, or perhaps I should say\nare more self-conscious than public men and do not like to be\nphotographed or even interviewed at close quarters, and it was\nnecessary, not only that Colonel Roosevelt and I should be alone, but\nthat we should make ourselves as inconspicuous and unobtrusive as\npossible.\n\nSo we went alone, and for some twenty hours we were lost to the world.\nWe went by train to a country station where a motor was awaiting us.\nThence we drove to the little village of Titchborne in Hampshire, and\ngot there soon after midday. In the village of Titchborne there lives\nalso the family of Titchborne, and in the old village church there is a\ntomb with recumbent figures of one of the Titchbornes and his wife who\nlived in the time of James the First; on it is inscribed the statement\nthat he chose to be buried with his wife in this chapel, which was built\nby his ancestor in the time of Henry the First. That shows a continuous\nrecord of one family in one place for some eight hundred years. I forget\nwhether we had time to go into the church and look at it, but the songs\nof the birds which we had come to hear are far more ancient. They must\nbe the same songs that were heard by the inhabitants of England before\nthe Romans came, for the songs of birds come down unchanged through\ngreat antiquity, and we are listening to-day, in whatever part of the\nworld we may be, to songs which must have been familiar to races of men\nof which history has no knowledge and no record.\n\nI was a little apprehensive about this walk. I had had no personal\nacquaintance with Colonel Roosevelt before he came to England in 1910,\nand I thought to myself, \"Perhaps, after all, he will not care so very\nmuch about birds, and possibly after an hour or so he will have had\nenough of them. If that be so and he does not care for birds, he will\nhave nothing but my society, which he will not find sufficiently\ninteresting for so long a time.\" I had relied upon the birds to provide\nentertainment for him. If that failed, I doubted my own resources. I\nneed have had no fear about his liking for birds. I found, not only that\nhe had a remarkable and abiding interest in birds, but a wonderful\nknowledge of them. Though I know something about British birds I should\nhave been lost and confused among American birds, of which unhappily I\nknow little or nothing. Colonel Roosevelt not only knew more about\nAmerican birds than I did about British birds, but he knew about\nBritish birds also. What he had lacked was an opportunity of hearing\ntheir songs, and you cannot get a knowledge of the songs of birds in any\nother way than by listening to them.\n\nWe began our walk, and when a song was heard I told him the name of the\nbird. I noticed that as soon as I mentioned the name it was unnecessary\nto tell him more. He knew what the bird was like. It was not necessary\nfor him to see it. He knew the kind of bird it was, its habits and\nappearance. He just wanted to complete his knowledge by hearing the\nsong. He had, too, a very trained ear for bird songs, which cannot be\nacquired without having spent much time in listening to them. How he had\nfound time in that busy life to acquire this knowledge so thoroughly it\nis almost impossible to imagine, but there the knowledge and training\nundoubtedly were. He had one of the most perfectly trained ears for\nbird songs that I have ever known, so that if three or four birds were\nsinging together he would pick out their songs, distinguish each, and\nask to be told each separate name; and when farther on we heard any bird\nfor a second time, he would remember the song from the first telling and\nbe able to name the bird himself.\n\nHe had not only a trained ear, but keen feeling and taste for bird\nsongs. He was quick to express preferences, and at once picked out the\nsong of the English blackbird as being the best of the bird songs we\nheard. I have always had the same feeling about the blackbird's song. I\ndo not say it is better than the songs of American birds, which I have\nnot heard, and I think Colonel Roosevelt thought one or two of the\nAmerican bird songs were better than anything we had in England; but his\nfeeling for the English blackbird's song I found confirmed the other day\nin a book published by Dr. Chapman, of the Natural History Museum at\nNew York. He has written a chapter on English birds and picks out the\nsong of the blackbird for excellence because of its \"spiritual quality.\"\nColonel Roosevelt liked the song of the blackbird so much that he was\nalmost indignant that he had not heard more of its reputation before. He\nsaid everybody talked about the song of the thrush; it had a great\nreputation, but the song of the blackbird, though less often mentioned,\nwas much better than that of the thrush. He wanted to know the reason of\nthis injustice and kept asking the question of himself and me. At last\nhe suggested that the name of the bird must have injured its reputation.\nI suppose the real reason is that the thrush sings for a longer period\nof the year than the blackbird and is a more obtrusive singer, and that\nso few people have sufficient feeling about bird songs to care to\ndiscriminate.\n\nOne more instance I will give of his interest and his knowledge. We were\npassing under a fir tree when we heard a small song in the tree above\nus. We stopped and I said that was the song of a golden-crested wren. He\nlistened very attentively while the bird repeated its little song, as\nits habit is. Then he said, \"I think that is exactly the same song as\nthat of a bird that we have in America\"; and that was the only English\nsong that he recognized as being the same as any bird song in America.\nSome time afterwards I met a bird expert in the Natural History Museum\nin London and told him this incident, and he confirmed what Colonel\nRoosevelt had said, that the song of this bird would be about the only\nsong that the two countries had in common. I think that a very\nremarkable instance of minute and accurate knowledge on the part of\nColonel Roosevelt. It was the business of the bird expert in London to\nknow about birds. Colonel Roosevelt's knowledge was a mere incident\nacquired, not as part of the work of his life, but entirely outside it.\nI remember thinking at the time how strange it seemed that the\ngolden-crested wren, which is the very smallest bird which we have in\nEngland, should be the only song bird which the great continent of North\nAmerica has in common with us.\n\nBut points of view are different in different countries. We may find\nourselves looking, not only at political questions, but at incidents in\nnatural history from a different point of view when we are on different\nsides of an ocean. The other day I was in a contemplative mood not far\nfrom Washington. I was thinking what a great country I was in, how much\nlarger the rivers were and how vast the distances, and generally working\nup in my own mind an impression of the great size of the country. Then I\nhappened to recall this incident of the golden-crested wren, and I\nfound myself thinking, of course, in a tiny little island like Great\nBritain, where one cannot go in an express train at fifty miles an hour\nfrom east to west or from north to south in a straight line for more\nthan fifteen hours without falling into the sea, the only song we could\nhave in common with a great continent like this would be the song of the\nsmallest bird.\n\nOne trivial incident there was in our walk which gave us some amusement.\nWe were going by footpaths down a river valley, a very beautiful, but a\nvery tame and settled country, where anything like an adventure seemed\nimpossible. We were on a path which I had known for many years, and\nalong which I had walked many times, not only without adventure, but\nwithout even incident. Suddenly we found ourselves stopped--the path was\nflooded, some weeds had blocked the river close by, and instead of a dry\npath we had about twenty yards of water in front of us. The water was\nnot very deep, certainly not above our knees, but I had not intended\nthat there should be any wading in our walk nor had I prepared for it. I\nasked if he would mind going through the water, to which, of course, he\nreplied that he would not. So we went through, got wet, and in the\ncourse of the afternoon got dry again as we walked. Nothing of the same\nkind had happened there before; nothing has happened since. I think\nthere was some magnetism about Colonel Roosevelt's personality which\ncreated incidents.\n\nAfter going a few miles down the valley we got into our motor, which was\nwaiting at a village inn, and drove to what is called the New Forest,\nthough it is more than eight hundred years old. We were now in a country\nof wild heath, quite uncultivated, and the part we went through was\nmostly natural forest. Here we heard some birds different from any we\nhad heard in the valley of the Itchen, and got to a little inn standing\non the open heath about nine o'clock in the evening. We had dinner, and\nnext morning we breakfasted together and went to Southampton, whence\nColonel Roosevelt returned to America.\n\nI am not attempting here a full appreciation of Colonel Roosevelt. He\nwill be known for all time as one of the great men of America. I am only\ngiving you this personal recollection as a little contribution to his\nmemory, as one that I can make from personal knowledge and which is now\nknown only to myself. His conversation about birds was made interesting\nby quotations from poets. He talked also about politics, and in the\nwhole of his conversation about them there was nothing but the motive of\npublic spirit and patriotism. I saw enough of him to know that to be\nwith him was to be stimulated in the best sense of the word for the\nwork of life. Perhaps it is not yet realised how great he was in the\nmatter of knowledge as well as in action. Everybody knows that he was a\ngreat man of action in the fullest sense of the word. The Press has\nalways proclaimed that. It is less often that a tribute is paid to him\nas a man of knowledge as well as a man of action. Two of your greatest\nexperts in natural history told me the other day that Colonel Roosevelt\ncould, in that department of knowledge, hold his own with experts. His\nknowledge of literature was also very great, and it was knowledge of the\nbest. It is seldom that you find so great a man of action who was also a\nman of such wide and accurate knowledge. I happened to be impressed by\nhis knowledge of natural history and literature and to have had\nfirst-hand evidence of both, but I gather from others that there were\nother fields of knowledge in which he was also remarkable. Not long ago\nwhen an English friend of mine was dying, his business agent came over\nto see him. One of the family asked the agent whether he had come on\nimportant business. \"No,\" he said, \"I have come for a little\nconversation because I was feeling depressed this morning and I wanted\nto be made to feel two inches taller.\" That saying would, I think, have\nbeen specially applicable to Colonel Roosevelt also. He could make\npeople feel bigger and stronger and better.\n\nAnd now my last discourse shall be on one sentence from Colonel\nRoosevelt which I saw quoted the other day. It is this: \"He is not fit\nto live who is not fit to die, and he is not fit to die who shrinks from\nthe joy of life or from the duty of life.\" Observe that the joy of life\nand the duty of life are put side by side. Many people preach the\ndoctrine of the duty of life. It is comparatively seldom that you find\none who puts the joy of life as something to be cultivated, to be\nencouraged on an equal footing with the duty of life. And of all the\njoys of life which may fairly come under the head of recreation there is\nnothing more great, more refreshing, more beneficial in the widest sense\nof the word, than a real love of the beauty of the world. Some people\ncannot feel it. To such people I can only say, as Turner once said to a\nlady who complained that she could not see sunsets as he painted them,\n\"Don't you wish you could, madam?\" But to those who have some feeling\nthat the natural world has beauty in it I would say, Cultivate this\nfeeling and encourage it in every way you can. Consider the seasons, the\njoy of the spring, the splendour of the summer, the sunset colours of\nthe autumn, the delicate and graceful bareness of winter trees, the\nbeauty of snow, the beauty of light upon water, what the old Greek\ncalled the unnumbered smiling of the sea.\n\nIn the feeling for that beauty, if we have it, we possess a pearl of\ngreat price. I say of great price, but it is something which costs us\nnothing because it is all a part of the joy which is in the world for\neverybody who cares for it. It is the \"joy in widest commonalty spread\";\nit is a rich possession for us if we care for it, but in possessing it\nwe deprive nobody else. The enjoyment of it, the possession of it,\nexcites neither greed nor envy, and it is something which is always\nthere for us and which may take us out of the small worries of life.\nWhen we are bored, when we are out of tune, when we have little worries,\nit clears our feelings and changes our mood if we can get in touch with\nthe beauty of the natural world. There is a quaint but apposite\nquotation from an old writer which runs as follows: \"I sleep, I drink\nand eat, I read and meditate, I walk in my neighbour's pleasant fields\nand see all the varieties of natural beauty ... and he who hath so many\nforms of joy must needs be very much in love with sorrow and\npeevishness, who loseth all these pleasures and chooseth to sit upon his\nlittle handful of thorns.\"\n\nThere is a story of a man whom others called poor, and who had just\nenough fortune to support himself in going about the country in the\nsimplest way and studying and enjoying the life and beauty of it. He was\nonce in the company of a great millionaire who was engaged in business,\nworking at it daily and getting richer every year, and the poor man said\nto the millionaire, \"I am a richer man than you are.\" \"How do you make\nthat out?\" said the millionaire. \"Why,\" he replied, \"I have got as much\nmoney as I want and you haven't.\"\n\nBut it is not only in the small worries of life that we may be saved by\na right use of recreation. We all realize how in the Great War your\nnation and our nation and others engaged in the war were taken out of\nthemselves, I was going to say lost themselves, but I ought rather to\nsay found themselves. It was a fine thing on your part to send two\nmillion soldiers across the sea in so short a time to risk their lives\nfor an ideal. It was even more impressive to us when we heard that in\nthis country you had adopted conscription, and that your millions of\npeople, distributed over so vast an extent of continent, were so moved\nby one public spirit and one patriotism and one desire to help the\nAllies in the war that they were rationing themselves voluntarily with\nfood and fuel. That voluntary action by so many millions over so great\nan extent of country was a tremendous example, showing what an ideal and\na public spirit and a call to action can do for people in making them\nforget private interests and convenience and making them great.\n\nThat was an example of what could be done by not shrinking from the\nduty of life; but you can get greatness, too, from some of the joys of\nlife, and from none more than from a keen sense of the beauty of the\nworld and a love for it. I found it so during the war. Our feelings were\nindeed roused by the heroism of our people, but they were also depressed\nby the suffering. In England every village was stricken, there was grief\nin almost every house. The thought of the suffering, the anxiety for the\nfuture, destroyed all pleasure. It came even between one's self and the\npage of the book one tried to read. In those dark days I found some\nsupport in the steady progress unchanged of the beauty of the seasons.\nEvery year, as spring came back unfailing and unfaltering, the leaves\ncame out with the same tender green, the birds sang, the flowers came up\nand opened, and I felt that a great power of nature for beauty was not\naffected by the war. It was like a great sanctuary into which we could\ngo and find refuge for a time from even the greatest trouble of the\nworld, finding there not enervating ease, but something which gave\noptimism, confidence, and security. The progress of the seasons\nunchecked, the continuance of the beauty of nature, was a manifestation\nof something great and splendid which not all the crimes and follies and\nmisfortunes of mankind can abolish or destroy. If, as years go on, we\ncan feel the beauty of the world as Wordsworth felt it and get from it\n\n    \"Authentic tidings of invisible things,\n    Of ebb and flow and ever during power,\n    And central peace subsisting at the heart\n    Of endless agitation,\"\n\nthen we have, indeed, a recreation which will give us, not merely\npleasure, but strength, refreshment, and confidence. Something of the\nsame feeling we may get from an appreciation of great music, beautiful\npictures, splendid architecture, and other things that stir us with an\nimpression of everlasting greatness. Enjoy these and cultivate the\nappreciation of them, but especially, if you can, cultivate the\nenjoyment of the beauty of nature, because it costs nothing and is\neverywhere for everybody; and if we can find recreation in such things\nas these, then, indeed, we may make the joy of life great as well as the\nduty of life, and we may find that the joy of life and the duty of life\nare not things adverse or even to be contrasted, but may be, as Colonel\nRoosevelt puts them, companions and complements of each other.","title":"Recreation by Viscount Grey of Fallodon, K.G.","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":7047}