“Seeing Life.”

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIX, Issue 5, 29 January 1913, Page 12

“Seeing Life.”

A MAX OF THE WORM).

To see life steadily and see it whole—th«s is the last thing desired by tihose who talk about “seeing Life.” To know men and women in their broad human -aspect and infinite spiritual capacity—to thread the intricate mazes of character and divine hidden thoughts, feelings, and motives of good working through evil—to recognise the grandeur of individuality in the common and ordinary —these are the last things thought necessary by those who boast vaingloriously about “knowing the world.” They cannot see the wood for the trees, and as for the boundless open country beyond the wood —of that they know nothing. Oh, you young men who talk glibly about “seeing life/’ how many sides of life do you think that phrase includes? You return to your quiet country homes after a yeax or so spent in town, throw yourself into an armchair in t'he morn-ing-room, and smile with an air of distant superiority when your sister makes a remark that betrays some faith in human nature.

“What do you know about the world?” that smile means. “Wait till you’ve seen life as I have!”

Your sister only knows the little world of her beloved village and the woods and meadows surrounding, tfiie visits from house to -hotwe in fihe broad, cobbled streets, and is a welcome at the outlying farms. She has’ learned the intimate history of every inhabitant, from old Giles, who was a desperate rover in bis youth, but has come home to lay hifl bones in the dear, quiet churchyard, to little Bessie, who is palpitating with her first Jove affair.

AH these lives are an open book to her; she knows why Mih Bennet married the grocer instead of the bootmaker; ohe <ould 4-ell you how Tom Harris was changed from a poacher and drunkard to a respectable, hard-working farm labourer; she has found out why Lily Bail ran away to Ixmdtrn, and whit l>eeame of her, in order that >he may be able to help other girls in like trouble. But she has not “*»en life.”

Oh, no! Everything worthy of tb? name “life” must be studied in th? bywayu and hot-houses of our great cities. Her wuntauJy powers of r<'a*oiiing, intuition, and imagtnation go for imj'.hiug, be-causr to them is not added what her lirotber calls “experbisee.** There are many kinds nf experience that are brain (leadening* T, 9t enlightening. It ia wot akeceaaary to explore the intricate windings of a rabbit warren in order to know the country you mean to shoot over. I suppose the greatest authority on under-ground burrowing who exist a is the uwle, tout for all that he is blind in Uxe daylight.

One rabbit hole U> very much like another rabbit hoje—at any rate, to the Mme pair of eyes, and if you spend your whole life in ferreting out one dark corner of life after another, you will have little time or energy or powers of appreciation left to devote to enjoyment of the wide, wind-swept moors, the heather-clad mountain*, the sea calling far off to a man’s life of healthy adventure—and, after all, these are a greater part of the world than rabbit-warren. When a man ealls himself “a man of the world,” I wonder whether he has devoted h* m4 *elf to the study of any more than one dark corner that is worth no one’s study; when he speaks of “a woman of the world,” I know he means a woman who cares less for the big, sunny, windy, whirling whirl of reality than she does for the Ji'ttle circle of gossip, scandal, and intrigue that surrounds her bridge-table.

What a sad misuse of words! I have 'here a letter from a man who calls himself “a gambler and scoundrel,” and tells me that he was born and brought up amid evil influences and surroundings; 'he was taught to drink and gamble in boyhood, and does not know how to pull himself up on the' downward track. “He -has never had a chance.”

In this he is absolutely wrong. He has a ch'anee, and a great one. The very fact of his being so conscious of his shortcomings proves that he can overcome them if he tries hard enough. There is hope for every man who does not glory in wrongdoing and think himself a fine fellow because he breaks the commandments. Let “Gambler and Scoundrel” and others like him fight against his temptations, free him Self from old associations and bad companions, and make up his mind ‘to work hard—and play cricket. Then he is sure to win, and will look back some day to his present bondage as to a night of bad dreams. Let him make a wager with himself that the next time he is tempted to do anything wrong, he’ll resist. He will find it just as good sport as any other kind of gambling, and far more profitable.

But he is held back by bad hereditary influences, you will tell met Sometimes I think “heredity” is held responsible for too many avoidable misdeeds backslidings. Nowadays a man is encouraged to think that because his forefathers “ate sour grapes” he may be allowed to continue unmolested in the same foolish practice. For many reasons I prefer the oldfashioned term of “original sin,” which, after all, means much the same thing as “heredity.” I would rather have a man think of his temptations as promptings of the devil than as irresistible pre-natal influences impossible for him to resist. Belief in a personal devil may be an outworn superstition, but I don’t know that it is any more sensible to believe in an old-man-of-the-sea of a dishonest grandfather, and it is certainly less invigorating.

A man may listen politely to the voice of his grandfather when he would say, “get tliee behind me” to Satan. After all, what are names? We knew that evil exists. Let us fight it, for our own sakes and the sakes of our future grandchildren, to whom we in turn, if we don’t take care, may play the part ef a grim, hereditary ghost. And, for heaven’s sake, don’t mistake the windings of a rabbit-warren for “the world,” and your undignified explorations there for “life.”—Mary Champion.