In fact, having spent eight hours in physical labour,--half a
day,--which formerly I used to spend in endeavouring to struggle with
dulness, there still remained for me eight hours, out of which in my
circumstances I required five for mental labour; and if I, a very
prolific writer, who had been doing nothing but write during forty
years, and who had written three hundred printed sheets, then if during
these forty years I had been doing ordinary work along with
working-people, and, not taking into consideration winter evenings and
holidays, had been reading and learning during the five hours a day, and
had written only on holidays two pages a day (and I have sometimes
written sixteen pages a day), I should have written the same three
hundred printed sheets in fourteen years.
A wonderful thing: a most simple arithmetical calculation which every
boy of seven years of age may do, but which I had never done. Day and
night have together twenty-four hours; we sleep eight hours; there
remain sixteen hours. If any man labour mentally five hours a day, he
will do a vast amount of business; what do we, then, do during the
remaining eleven hours?
So it appears that physical labour not only does not exclude the
possibility of mental activity, but improves and stimulates it.
In answer to the question, whether this physical labour would deprive me
of many innocent enjoyments proper to man, such as enjoyment of art,
acquirement of knowledge, of social intercourse, and, generally, of the
happiness of life, it was really quite the reverse: the more intense my
physical labour, the more it approached that labour which is considered
the hardest, to wit, agricultural labour, the more I acquired
enjoyments, and knowledge, and the closer and more affectionate was my
intercourse with mankind, and the more happiness did I feel in life.
In answer to the question (which I hear so often from men who are not
quite sincere), "What result can there be from such an awfully small
drop in the sea? what is all my personal physical labour in comparison
with the sea of labour which I swallow up?"
To this question I also received a very unexpected answer.
It appeared that as soon as I had made physical labour the ordinary
condition of my life, at once the greatest part of the false and
expensive habits and wants which I had while I had been physically idle,
ceased of themselves, without any endeavour on my part. To say nothing
of the habit of turning day into night, and _vice versa_, of my bedding,
clothes, my conventional cleanliness, which all became impossible and
embarrassing when I began to labour physically, both the quantity and
the quality of my food was totally changed. Instead of the sweet, rich,
delicate, complicated, and highly spiced food, which I formerly liked, I
now required and obtained plain food as being the most agreeable,--sour
cabbage soup, porridge, black bread, tea with a bit of sugar.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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