An ancient thinker remarked that life is spent like a tale that is told.
It might just as truly be said that life is like a picture that is
painted. It is a series of scenes which, when all are finished, becomes
a panorama. It demands perspective. In order to have this, it possesses,
just as does a picture, a foreground, a mid-ground, and a background.
The foreground is simply a bit of nothing in particular. It contributes
nothing substantial. It is only there to give relief and proportion. It
does not amount to much, but the picture would not be complete without
it. Life has some phases which are quite like it. They do not count for
anything substantial, but they help to furnish a setting for the parts
that are really important.
The mid-ground contains the real picture. The important figures, objects,
and action are all there. It corresponds to the toils, the concerns, and
the achievements which go to make up life. Life’s mid-ground is composed
of its realities.
The background is the part that stretches away in the distance. It may
not consist of much. Cloudland, shadows, or distant hills or woods may
be all it presents to the view. It is that against which the outlines of
the real picture are cast.
It is a determining factor, for from it the picture seems to spring.
From such a picture as Millet’s _Angelus_, for instance, take the
background with its little church from the tower of which the bell is
calling to prayer, and you have removed the whole motive and explanation
of the picture itself. A natural harmony exists between the picture and
its background. The detail cannot appropriately be anything except what
its background determines that it shall be. The background of life’s
picture is no less determining.
One of life’s backgrounds is character. This is an invisible thing, but
the fact that a thing is hidden from the eyes of men does not make it in
the least less real. There is no means by which it may be measured or
weighed as other things are, but there is no more potent factor in the
determination of a life. It may be seldom taken into account in human
calculations. The practical and workaday world insists that it does not
care about vague, mystical things. It is only concerned about the
practical questions of definite action. It only asks what a man can really
do. This is all very well, but the man himself must not forget that what
he can do and what he will do are entirely determined by what he is.
Correct conduct of the sustained sort does not come as the result of
calculation. One may stand upon artificial good behavior for an hour or a
day, but he cannot do it permanently without the staying force of a fixed
principle. It takes more than good resolutions to make an ethical life.
One must more than have an axe to grind if he expects to deport himself
well in any constant way. No matter what the reward may be, the lure of
reward alone cannot lastingly elevate life to a high grade of ability and
action. Whitewash cannot change the fact of hidden faultiness. The heart
of a thing alone reveals the truth.
The hands of a clock do not have to stop and figure their course and
speed. If they did, they would be forever getting out of harmony with
their purpose and with one another. They are moved and regulated by
machinery which the ordinary observer does not see. The world only asks to
be told what time it is, but the hands of the clock could not give the
information were there not maintained a background of mechanism operating
according to fixed and permanent principles. In this regard the clock is a
very good analogy of a life.
Another of life’s backgrounds is preparation. How one really conducts
himself is largely a question of whether or not he is prepared to do the
right thing. Opportunity does not fail anyone, but a great many people
fail opportunity by not being prepared for it when it arrives. They may
seize their chances, but they do not perform their part well because they
have not gotten themselves ready in mind, hand, or soul. An attempt to
play any worthy part in life without proper preparation gives the same
general impression as does a picture without a background.
The result is unsatisfying.
Not all of life’s preparation can be specific. It is well enough to make
specific preparation for the expected task of a given day. That specific
preparation is at its best, however, only when it is backed up with a
strong general preparation. This general background of preparation cannot
be made in a day. It is the result of sustained reading, thinking, and
trying throughout the years.
Pliny the Elder used to have books read to him during every spare moment.
When working at a sawmill, Daniel Webster used to carry reading matter
with which to occupy himself to advantage during the three-minute periods
required for the log-carriage to pass the saw. These men were merely
hanging backgrounds for action when the time should come to act.
Its fabric was woven of thought, knowledge, and personality.
A musical artist, when asked the secret of his success, remarked that
before anyone can expect to be an artist he must first expect to be a
drudge. This principle holds good in everything. Whoever succeeds must
carry a cross of self-denial. The public will suppose that he does his
work with ease. Few will suspect his toils and sacrifices. He will,
however, pay dearly for all the genius he acquires. While others sleep
he will work, building the background from which will some day burst the
outlines of worthy achievement.
Another of life’s backgrounds is its relationships. In greater measure
than many will suspect, the things we are and do will always spring from
the influence of the friends we have had and the loves we have known.
The ties that bind us to the hearts of others are the cables that help to
drag us toward the dust or to lift us in the direction of the heights.
Back of the lives of the great, the despicable, and the insignificant
alike, even back of the great deeds and movements of history, one can
detect the presence of the silent shadows of those who have made or
marred. As the kindly old teacher built his own soul into the life of
Geordie Hoo, the “Lad o’ Pairts,” so has someone spoken of his or her
own spirit into the lives of each of us.
So is life’s picture painted. We are often so busy that we forget the
background, but when we think about it we see again the faces that have
smiled, the hands that have lifted, the toils that have helped, the
qualities that have steadied and impelled.
Without its background a picture would be a lone bit of detail without
perspective or relief. A life cannot be so. We are not unrelated beings.
Our lives are linked with all the generations of all the ages. We are in
league with all that has being. We are the products of the ages past and
the forces present. Powers seen and unseen have largely made us what
we are.