The Victorious Attitude

by Orison Swett Marden

Why is it that when a coarse-grained, brutal, dissipated man falls in love with a sweet, pure girl he immediately changes his ways, looks up, thinks up, braces up, drops his profanity, is more refined, more choice in his language, more exclusive in his associations, and is, to all appearances, for the time at least, a changed man? Simply because love is a more powerful motive to the man than dissipation. He drops the latter, and if his love is steady and true he will never again indulge in any degrading practice.

Who has not seen the magic power of love in transforming rough, uncouth men into refined and devoted husbands? I have known women who had such great, loving, helpful hearts, and such charm of manner, that the worst men, the most hardened characters would do anything in the world for them—would give up their lives even to protect them. But these men could not be reformed by prison methods, could not be touched by unkindness or compulsion. Love is the only power that could reach them.

I do not believe there is any human being, in prison or out, so depraved, so low, so bad but that there is somebody in the world who could control him perfectly by love, by kindness, by patience. Many a man has been kept from performing a disgraceful, a criminal act by the thought that somebody loved him, believed in him, trusted him.

"Though thy sins be as scarlet they shall be made whiter than snow." Love purifies, lifts up, regenerates. We are all familiar with its wonderful transforming power; how it erases the scars of sin, smooths out the wrinkles which vice has left in the face, softens the hard features and puts its own divine stamp there. We know how it changes the coarse, brutal, sinful man into its own divine likeness, how it brings the color back to the pale cheek, the luster to the dull eye, how it restores courage to the disheartened, hope to the distressed and the despairing. We know how it calls into the face a light which was never there before, and which is not of earth.

In the remarkable play, "The Passing of the Third Floor Back," we have a striking illustration of the subtle, silent force of the love motive. Those who have seen or read the play will remember how in response to an advertisement in a London paper, "Room to let, Third floor back," comes a remarkable man, who is given the title of "The Stranger." This man takes the "third floor back," and finds himself in a boarding house filled with questionable characters, petty thieves, gamblers, people who have led fast lives, all sorts of uncharitable, envious men and women. They stoop to every kind of meanness. One woman even steals candles. Every one tries to cheat every one else and is cheated in return. The landlady is of the same type as her boarders. She preys on them and they prey on her. She waters the milk and adulterates the food. Then to keep herself from being robbed she puts everything under lock and key.

The mere presence of the Stranger seems antagonistic to the practices and low-flying ideals of the boarders and the landlady. They begin to make all sorts of fun of him. But he takes no notice. Instead he gives them kindness for unkindness, love for hate, and a pleasant smile as the only answer to their sarcastic, cutting remarks and innuendoes. Gradually, as they become better acquainted, he begins to talk to them of themselves, to point out their good qualities, and to show them what great ability they have in certain lines, what wonderful things are possible to them.

He told one of the young men who had made merry at his expense that he had a fine artistic temperament, and that he had in him the making of a great artist. He showed another his possibilities as a musician, and so on with every member of the discordant, jangling group, until each one finally came under the spell of his love and kindness.

The little London "slavey," or maid-of-all-work who was abused and constantly reminded that she had been in State Prison and hence was a nobody, under the Stranger's uplifting influence became a self-respecting, noble woman. The landlady, who had hitherto treated the girl like a slave, began to favor her and made her go outdoors and get a little change while she did the work. A man and wife who had lived a cat and dog life were brought together in harmony. All of the boarders, without exception, even those who had been the most brutal and selfish, gradually changed and became thoughtful, helpful and kindly toward one another. They became friends. The whole atmosphere of the house was changed. The Stranger had shown every man and woman of them his or her better self, and in so doing had literally made them anew.

Thus did one who typified the Christ spirit, a simple, quiet man who loved his fellowmen and who found his greatest joy in serving others, manage to divert all of these people out of the crooked channels in which they had lived and into the right path toward happiness. Love, discovering to them these higher possible selves, transformed them. This is love's way.

Love tames the fiercest animals. How quickly their wild, ferocious expression is replaced by a milder, softer, more gentle one under the kindly treatment of one who really loves them, one who looks upon them as did St. Francis, as his "little dumb brothers and sisters." The brute nature is gradually softened and distrust gives way to confidence. The suspicious look is replaced by a trustful one. Affection takes the place of dislike and fear; love goes out to meet love. Is there any more beautiful illustration in Nature of the influence of love and kindly treatment than the evolution of our pet dogs from the ferocious wolf? Note the gentle, peaceful face of a cow or a horse which has been brought up as a family pet. Such animals would not step on or injure a child any more than we would ourselves. We love and trust them and they love and trust us in return. Love begets love.