Living the Radiant Life: A Personal Narrative

by George Wharton James

And I fancy that it is only when a life thinks and acts for itself, and allows its fellow men to think and act for themselves, that it is in a condition to really give help and to receive help, really in a state of mind to fulfill the commandment: "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."

It is one thing to be brave enough to do something which is hard to do but which your fellow men will approve of your doing, and an entirely different thing to do something hard but which your fellow men will not approve of your doing. Therefore I want to radiate into actual, living potentiality my belief that life consists in expression and not repression. By many this is taken to be a plea for license and want of self-control. Do not believe it! That is not what I mean. The expression of evil is not the expression of myself, for I long to do only good. Read what St. Paul says on the subject. And by "I," I mean my real self, as Paul did—not my lower self, my evil heredity, or whatever it is that seeks to drive away the good from me—I, the real I, the self which is, and which may not appear to the world, want to express all that is in that real self. That means that I must control, slay, kill, drive out all the evil that comes to me and demands that I express it as part of myself. It is not a part of my spiritual self, and if I express evil then I am not myself in that sense. But I want to have such perfect, such absolute control over all outward expressions that I shall ever and at all times express nothing but that which is good; and that which will be felt to be good by all people.

And yet we must determine what we should express. The thinking man and woman make their own standards. These standards, in certain great principles of honor, truth, nobleness, purity, are practically alike, yet most men and women are controlled by fashion, custom, society, rather than by their own cool, deliberate judgment. I want to radiate my protest against this state of affairs. I will be my own judge and not place the responsibility for my own moral life upon the judgment of any person, society, clique, class, or church. I must be saved by my own belief and life, not by the belief and life of others.

For years I endeavored to "avoid the appearance of evil." When at last, however, I discovered that the "appearance of evil"—the determination of what it was, rested upon the average quality of the minds of the community by which I was surrounded, and not always upon right, or truth, or justice, I made up my mind that for me, at least, God had a higher mission. I resolved, therefore, in His strength fearlessly to radiate a higher conception of things. An evil mind sees evil where none is; a filthy mind sees filth where is only innocence and sweetness. Was I to shape my life and conduct to meet the ideas of those who deem innocence and trustfulness, natural simplicity, and true-heartedness as "appearances of evil"? God forbid. Rather, by far, would I suffer in the judgments of men and women, cruel and untrue though they would be, than forego the life of natural trust, simple uprightness, that alone mean life to me.

And this is what I desire to radiate,—a positive, powerful, healthful, aseptic moral quality that will refuse to allow people to see evil where none exists; that will lead them to prefer to see, to hope for, to believe in, the good rather than the evil in men. Better trust and be deceived, than live a life of horrible mistrust. I know men and women are imperfect, and, like myself, composed of good and evil, therefore I am determined to radiate my belief in the good in them rather than radiate my belief in the bad of them.

It is worth while to re-read George Eliot's Mill on the Floss, to see how poor Maggie Tulliver was misjudged and cruelly treated purely on what people supposed was her wrong-doing. And I shall never forget the influence the following words had on me when I first read them. I would that the lesson they contain might be burned into the inmost consciousness of every reader of this book.

Even on the supposition that required the utmost stretch of belief—namely, that none of the things said about Miss Tulliver were true—still, since they had been said about her, they had cast an odor around her which must cause her to be shrunk from by every woman who had to take care of her own reputation—and of society. To have taken Maggie by the hand and said, 'I will not believe unproved evil of you; my lips shall not utter it; my ears shall be closed against it; I, too, am an erring mortal, liable to stumble, apt to come short of my most earnest efforts, your lot has been harder than mine, your temptation greater; let us help each other to stand and walk without more falling;'—to have done this would have demanded courage, deep pity, self-knowledge, generous trust—would have demanded a mind that tasted no piquancy in evil speaking, that felt no self-exaltation in condemning, that cheated itself with no large words into the belief that life can have any moral end, any high religion, which excludes the striving after perfect truth, justice, and love towards the individual men and women who come across our own path.

It is my earnest desire that I may radiate this spirit of courage, deep pity, self-knowledge, generous trust, and all that follows. And this, not in an abstract or theoretical way, but in the real concrete cases that one meets with in life. I am not too good to associate with the found-out wrong-doer if he is striving against his wrong-doing, and aiming to be better. I would not look down on any human being because of any sin. Though I want to grow to hate sin more and more as the manifestations of that which separates us from the Infinite, I want the sinner to feel that I am one with him in all desire to be free from evil, to be possessed only by the spirit of truth, purity, and love.

All great victories whether of peace or war have been won by the fearless, the unafraid. We honor the heroes of the past, of Thermopylæ, and the fearless and brave of all nations and all time. Tennyson's Charge of the Light Brigade appeals to our love and respect for the virile, the manly, the courageous, the fearless, and it is the same spirit that thrills us when we read or hear Curfew Shall not Ring To-night. To save her lover the shrinking maiden was filled with high born courage and dared to hang on to the bell. Whether we agree with his beliefs or not we admire the bravery of Luther that led him to exclaim: "Were there as many devils in my way as tiles on the house tops yet would I go to Worms." Whether we approve of his ascetic life or not we thrill at the bravery, the simple-hearted daring of Francis of Assisi, who resolutely cast aside his patrimony and dared his father's anger that he might serve God in his own way.