Living the Radiant Life: A Personal Narrative

by George Wharton James

The wife of Sir Bartle Frere once sent a servant to meet her husband, who was just returning from Africa, an illness preventing her from going. The man did not know Sir Bartle, and he asked for a description. "The only description you will need," said his wife, "is this: Look out for a fine-looking man who is helping some poor woman carry a baby, or a basket, or a load." And, sure enough, when the train arrived he found the distinguished diplomat, the great statesman, helping a poor laundry woman carry her large basket of soiled linen. Ah, Sir Bartle, I greet you a nobleman indeed, for you have radiated unselfishness, thoughtful helpfulness, to me, and through me, to others, and thus out and on forever.

Some persons radiate cynical distrust of their fellows. "There are no honest men!" "I wouldn't believe in the integrity of that man under oath." "Believe every man dishonest until he has proven himself honest, and even then, watch out. He'll be liable to catch you if you nap." "Do others as they would do you, but do it first," said David Harum. "A profession of religion is but a cloak for evil." "If your bank cashier is a Sunday-school Superintendent, watch him!" "Look out for the man who has no open vices."

These are the catchwords of this class of persons. How pernicious and evil are their radiancies.

Commend the fearless bravery of a Roosevelt, the unpopular decisions of an upright judge, the single-heartedness of a labor leader, the integrity of a railroad official, and you are met with the sneer of the lip, the cynical glance of the eye and the scornful words: "He's only waiting for his price."

Far rather would I meet the converse of this cynic in the optimist who believes that every man is as good as he professes to be. For such an abounding faith in mankind, freely radiated, has the effect of calling forth faithfulness, and thus creating what it expects.

I know a woman who, though abundant in good works and very kindly in some ways, who seeks opportunities for helping the helpless and distressed, yet, when others fail to measure up to her own standard, is harsh, censorious, bitter, and fault-finding to a degree that many find it impossible to listen to her without distress. Thus her kindly deeds are overlooked and ignored and she radiates to a large degree discomfort, unrest, and irritation.

At our house we were once privileged to know a woman, recently widowed, who had a crippled and almost helpless son of about a dozen years of age. When her husband was alive she was the president of the leading woman's club in her State and also the president of the State Federation of Women's Clubs—a woman of executive ability and strong mentality, though shy and unassuming.

Her husband was a well-known Governmental specialist in plants, trees, etc., and she had aided him, in some of his investigations, to such a degree that she was almost as expert as he. Unfortunately she was afflicted with deafness. When her husband died she was left with only a few hundred dollars. Her deafness prevented her taking any of the positions her mental qualifications so eminently fitted her to fill. Her crippled son must be cared for. Bravely and fearlessly, yet cautiously and studiously, she determined to make the living for herself and son. She bought a small ranch, planted it out in vegetables and small fruit, and, as the crops matured, personally drove to town and marketed them. Yet with all this arduous work and care she found time and strength to read to her boy (whose eyesight was poor), to help him in his studies and sympathize with him in his boyish endeavors to accomplish something as an electrician. There was no complaining, no weeping at her hard fate—simply a brave recognition of her position and a cheerful facing of the responsibilities thrust upon her. The sorrow and pain she felt keenly, yet one saw no sign of suffering. One day she came to our home and would have said nothing of her difficulties had we not pressed her to tell us about her affairs. She made no claim for sympathy because of the way Fate had tried her, but when we offered it, in our simple and unpretentious fashion, she accepted it in as simple and unaffected a way. Her uncomplaining courage, her fearless grappling with the hard problems of life, radiated inspiration to all who came in close enough contact to know her. We were all benefited and blessed by her presence and the helpful radiancies she shed upon us.

Here is another case. We are honored and blessed with the friendship of the widow of an Episcopal clergyman. For over twenty-five years she and her husband lived in marital oneness, and seven boys and girls crowned their happiness. She awoke one morning to find him dead by her side. The shock was crushing and few would have blamed her had she been incapacitated for a while by its sudden awfulness. But in an instant she leaped to meet her burdens and responsibilities. Religion was real to her. Her husband was with God. He was safe. It was her duty now to be both father and mother to her children. A struggle then began which is as pathetic as it is heroic. I have watched every battle and known the courage, the patience, the fidelity, the failures, the successes. A house, partially built with funds contributed by friends, was eventually lost to the mortgagees. The oldest daughter, after years of brave and cheerful struggle with poverty and ill-health, passed away. A few years later, within a week of each other, two of the noble sons, one about twenty-seven years of age, the other nineteen, the former the most Christ-like youth I have ever known, also died. Then the third daughter, happily married, died after giving birth to her third child, and, in a short time, owing to some strange perversion which it is hard to understand, the son-in-law took it into his head to refuse the grandmother the privilege of seeing the children. The one remaining son, who had studied with honors at the California State University, went East to complete his special studies at Yale, suddenly collapsed mentally, and was cared for for a long time in an Eastern hospital.