章节正文
Conwell is doing more good in the world than any
man who has lived since Jesus Christ.'' And
he said this in serious and unexaggerated earnest.
Yet Conwell did not get readily into his life-
work. He might have seemed almost a failure
until he was well on toward forty, for although he
kept making successes they were not permanent
successes, and he did not settle himself into a
definite line. He restlessly went westward to
make his home, and then restlessly returned to
the East. After the war was over he was a lawyer,
he was a lecturer, he was an editor, he went around
the world as a correspondent, he wrote books.
He kept making money, and kept losing it; he lost
it through fire, through investments, through aiding
his friends. It is probable that the unsettledness
of the years following the war was due to the
unsettling effect of the war itself, which thus, in
its influence, broke into his mature life after
breaking into his years at Yale. But however that
may be, those seething, changing, stirring years
were years of vital importance to him, for in the
myriad experiences of that time he was building
the foundation of the Conwell that was to come.
Abroad he met the notables of the earth. At
home he made hosts of friends and loyal admirers.
It is worth while noting that as a lawyer he
would never take a case, either civil or criminal,
that he considered wrong. It was basic with him
that he could not and would not fight on what
he thought was the wrong side. Only when his
client was right would he go ahead!
Yet he laughs, his quiet, infectious, characteristic
laugh, as he tells of how once he was deceived,
for he defended a man, charged with stealing a
watch, who was so obviouslyinnocent that he
took the case in a blaze of indignation and had
the young fellow proudly exonerated. The next
day the wrongly accused one came to his office
and shamefacedly took out the watch that he
had been charged with stealing. ``I want you to
send it to the man I took it from,'' he said. And
he told with a sort of shamefaced pride of how
he had got a good old deacon to give, in all
sincerity, the evidence that exculpated him. ``And,
say, Mr. Conwell--I want to thank you for
getting me off--and I hope you'll excuse my
deceiving you--and--I won't be any worse for not
going to jail.'' And Conwell likes to remember
that thereafter the young man lived up to the
pride of exoneration; and, though Conwell does
not say it or think it, one knows that it was the
Conwell influence that inspired to honesty--for
always he is an inspirer.
Conwell even kept certain hours for consultation
with those too poor to pay any fee; and at
one time, while still an active lawyer, he was
guardian for over sixty children! The man has
always been a marvel, and always one is coming
upon such romantic facts as these.
That is a curious thing about him--how much
there is of romance in his life! Worshiped to the
end by John Ring; left for dead all night at
Kenesaw Mountain; calmly singing ``Nearer, my
God, to Thee,'' to quiet the passengers on a
supposedly sinking ship; saving lives even when a
boy; never disappointing a single audience of the
thousands of audiences he has arranged to address
during all his years of lecturing! He himself takes
a little pride in this last point, and it is characteristic
of him that he has actually forgotten that
just once he did fail to appear: he has quite
forgotten that one evening, on his way to a lecture,
he stopped a runaway horse to save two
women's lives, and went in consequence to a hospital
instead of to the platform! And it is typical
of him to forget that sort of thing.
The emotionaltemperament of Conwell has always
made him responsive to the great, the striking,
the patriotic. He was deeply influenced by
knowing John Brown, and his brief memories of
Lincoln are intense, though he saw him but three
times in all.
The first time he saw Lincoln was on the night
when the future President delivered the address,
which afterward became so famous, in Cooper
Union, New York. The name of Lincoln was then
scarcely known, and it was by mere chance that
young Conwell happened to be in New York on
that day. But being there, and learning that
Abraham Lincoln from the West was going to
make an address, he went to hear him.
He tells how uncouthly Lincoln was dressed,
even with one trousers-leg higher than the other,
and of how awkward he was, and of how poorly,
at first, he spoke and with what apparent
embarrassment. The chairman of the meeting got
Lincoln a glass of water, and Conwell thought
that it was from a personal desire to help him and
keep him from breaking down. But he loves to
tell how Lincoln became a changed man as he
spoke; how he seemed to feel ashamed of his brief
embarrassment and, pulling himself together and
putting aside the written speech which he had
prepared, spoke freely and powerfully, with splendid
conviction, as only a born orator speaks. To
Conwell it was a tremendous experience.
The second time he saw Lincoln was when
he went to Washington to plead for the life of one
of his men who had been condemned to death
for sleeping on post. He was still but a captain
(his promotion to a colonelcy was still to come),
a youth, and was awed by going into the presence
of the man he worshiped. And his voice trembles
a little, even now, as he tells of how pleasantly
Lincoln looked up from his desk, and how cheerfully
he asked his business with him, and of how
absorbedly Lincoln then listened to his tale,
although, so it appeared, he already knew of the
main outline.
``It will be all right,'' said Lincoln, when
Conwell finished. But Conwell was still frightened.
He feared that in the multiplicity of public matters
this mere matter of the life of a mountain
boy, a private soldier, might be forgotten till too
late. ``It is almost the time set--'' he faltered.
And Conwell's voice almost breaks, man of emotion
that he is, as he tells of how Lincoln said,
with stern gravity: ``Go and telegraph that soldier's
mother that Abraham Lincoln never signed
a warrant to shoot a boy under twenty, and never
will.'' That was the one and only time that he
spoke with Lincoln, and it remains an indelible
impression.
The third time he saw Lincoln was when, as
officer of the day, he stood for hours beside the
dead body of the President as it lay in state in
Washington. In those hours, as he stood rigidly
as the throng went shuffling sorrowfully through,
an immenseimpression came to Colonel Conwell
of the work and worth of the man who there lay
dead, and that impression has never departed.
John Brown, Abraham Lincoln, old Revolutionary
Lexington--how Conwell's life is associated
with famous men and places!--and it was
actually at Lexington that he made the crucial
decision as to the course of his life! And it seems
to me that it was, although quite unconsciously,
because of the very fact that it was Lexington that
Conwell was influenced to decide and to act as
he did. Had it been in some other kind of place,
some merely ordinary place, some quite usual
place, he might not have taken the important
step. But it was Lexington, it was brave old
Lexington, inspiring Lexington; and he was
inspired by it, for the man who himself inspires
nobly is always the one who is himself open to
noble inspiration. Lexington inspired him.
``When I was a lawyer in Boston and almost
thirty-seven years old,'' he told me, thinking
slowly back into the years, ``I was consulted by
a woman who asked my advice in regard to
disposing of a little church in Lexington whose
congregation had become unable to support it. I
went out and looked at the place, and I told her
how the property could be sold. But it seemed a
pity to me that the little church should be given
up. However, I advised a meeting of the church
members, and I attended the meeting. I put the
case to them--it was only a handful of men and
women--and there was silence for a little. Then
an old man rose and, in a quavering voice, said
the matter was quite clear; that there evidently
was nothing to do but to sell, and that he would
agree with the others in the necessity; but as
the church had been his church home from boyhood,
so he quavered and quivered on, he begged
that they would excuse him from actually taking
part in disposing of it; and in a deep silence he
went haltingly from the room.
``The men and the women looked at one another,
still silent, sadly impressed, but not knowing
what to do. And I said to them: `Why not start
over again, and go on with the church, after all!' ''
Typical Conwellism, that! First, the impulse
to help those who need helping, then the inspiration
and leadership.
`` `But the building is entirely too tumble-
down to use,' said one of the men, sadly; and I
knew he was right, for I had examined it; but I
said:
`` `Let us meet there to-morrow morning and
get to work on that building ourselves and put
it in shape for a service next Sunday.'
``It made them seem so pleased and encouraged,
and so confident that a new possibility was
opening that I never doubted that each one of
those present, and many friends besides, would
be at the building in the morning. I was there
early with a hammer and ax and crowbar that I
had secured, ready to go to work--but no one else
man who has lived since Jesus Christ.'' And
he said this in serious and unexaggerated earnest.
Yet Conwell did not get readily into his life-
work. He might have seemed almost a failure
until he was well on toward forty, for although he
kept making successes they were not permanent
successes, and he did not settle himself into a
definite line. He restlessly went westward to
make his home, and then restlessly returned to
the East. After the war was over he was a lawyer,
he was a lecturer, he was an editor, he went around
the world as a correspondent, he wrote books.
He kept making money, and kept losing it; he lost
it through fire, through investments, through aiding
his friends. It is probable that the unsettledness
of the years following the war was due to the
unsettling effect of the war itself, which thus, in
its influence, broke into his mature life after
breaking into his years at Yale. But however that
may be, those seething, changing, stirring years
were years of vital importance to him, for in the
myriad experiences of that time he was building
the foundation of the Conwell that was to come.
Abroad he met the notables of the earth. At
home he made hosts of friends and loyal admirers.
It is worth while noting that as a lawyer he
would never take a case, either civil or criminal,
that he considered wrong. It was basic with him
that he could not and would not fight on what
he thought was the wrong side. Only when his
client was right would he go ahead!
Yet he laughs, his quiet, infectious, characteristic
laugh, as he tells of how once he was deceived,
for he defended a man, charged with stealing a
watch, who was so obviouslyinnocent that he
took the case in a blaze of indignation and had
the young fellow proudly exonerated. The next
day the wrongly accused one came to his office
and shamefacedly took out the watch that he
had been charged with stealing. ``I want you to
send it to the man I took it from,'' he said. And
he told with a sort of shamefaced pride of how
he had got a good old deacon to give, in all
sincerity, the evidence that exculpated him. ``And,
say, Mr. Conwell--I want to thank you for
getting me off--and I hope you'll excuse my
deceiving you--and--I won't be any worse for not
going to jail.'' And Conwell likes to remember
that thereafter the young man lived up to the
pride of exoneration; and, though Conwell does
not say it or think it, one knows that it was the
Conwell influence that inspired to honesty--for
always he is an inspirer.
Conwell even kept certain hours for consultation
with those too poor to pay any fee; and at
one time, while still an active lawyer, he was
guardian for over sixty children! The man has
always been a marvel, and always one is coming
upon such romantic facts as these.
That is a curious thing about him--how much
there is of romance in his life! Worshiped to the
end by John Ring; left for dead all night at
Kenesaw Mountain; calmly singing ``Nearer, my
God, to Thee,'' to quiet the passengers on a
supposedly sinking ship; saving lives even when a
boy; never disappointing a single audience of the
thousands of audiences he has arranged to address
during all his years of lecturing! He himself takes
a little pride in this last point, and it is characteristic
of him that he has actually forgotten that
just once he did fail to appear: he has quite
forgotten that one evening, on his way to a lecture,
he stopped a runaway horse to save two
women's lives, and went in consequence to a hospital
instead of to the platform! And it is typical
of him to forget that sort of thing.
The emotionaltemperament of Conwell has always
made him responsive to the great, the striking,
the patriotic. He was deeply influenced by
knowing John Brown, and his brief memories of
Lincoln are intense, though he saw him but three
times in all.
The first time he saw Lincoln was on the night
when the future President delivered the address,
which afterward became so famous, in Cooper
Union, New York. The name of Lincoln was then
scarcely known, and it was by mere chance that
young Conwell happened to be in New York on
that day. But being there, and learning that
Abraham Lincoln from the West was going to
make an address, he went to hear him.
He tells how uncouthly Lincoln was dressed,
even with one trousers-leg higher than the other,
and of how awkward he was, and of how poorly,
at first, he spoke and with what apparent
embarrassment. The chairman of the meeting got
Lincoln a glass of water, and Conwell thought
that it was from a personal desire to help him and
keep him from breaking down. But he loves to
tell how Lincoln became a changed man as he
spoke; how he seemed to feel ashamed of his brief
embarrassment and, pulling himself together and
putting aside the written speech which he had
prepared, spoke freely and powerfully, with splendid
conviction, as only a born orator speaks. To
Conwell it was a tremendous experience.
The second time he saw Lincoln was when
he went to Washington to plead for the life of one
of his men who had been condemned to death
for sleeping on post. He was still but a captain
(his promotion to a colonelcy was still to come),
a youth, and was awed by going into the presence
of the man he worshiped. And his voice trembles
a little, even now, as he tells of how pleasantly
Lincoln looked up from his desk, and how cheerfully
he asked his business with him, and of how
absorbedly Lincoln then listened to his tale,
although, so it appeared, he already knew of the
main outline.
``It will be all right,'' said Lincoln, when
Conwell finished. But Conwell was still frightened.
He feared that in the multiplicity of public matters
this mere matter of the life of a mountain
boy, a private soldier, might be forgotten till too
late. ``It is almost the time set--'' he faltered.
And Conwell's voice almost breaks, man of emotion
that he is, as he tells of how Lincoln said,
with stern gravity: ``Go and telegraph that soldier's
mother that Abraham Lincoln never signed
a warrant to shoot a boy under twenty, and never
will.'' That was the one and only time that he
spoke with Lincoln, and it remains an indelible
impression.
The third time he saw Lincoln was when, as
officer of the day, he stood for hours beside the
dead body of the President as it lay in state in
Washington. In those hours, as he stood rigidly
as the throng went shuffling sorrowfully through,
an immenseimpression came to Colonel Conwell
of the work and worth of the man who there lay
dead, and that impression has never departed.
John Brown, Abraham Lincoln, old Revolutionary
Lexington--how Conwell's life is associated
with famous men and places!--and it was
actually at Lexington that he made the crucial
decision as to the course of his life! And it seems
to me that it was, although quite unconsciously,
because of the very fact that it was Lexington that
Conwell was influenced to decide and to act as
he did. Had it been in some other kind of place,
some merely ordinary place, some quite usual
place, he might not have taken the important
step. But it was Lexington, it was brave old
Lexington, inspiring Lexington; and he was
inspired by it, for the man who himself inspires
nobly is always the one who is himself open to
noble inspiration. Lexington inspired him.
``When I was a lawyer in Boston and almost
thirty-seven years old,'' he told me, thinking
slowly back into the years, ``I was consulted by
a woman who asked my advice in regard to
disposing of a little church in Lexington whose
congregation had become unable to support it. I
went out and looked at the place, and I told her
how the property could be sold. But it seemed a
pity to me that the little church should be given
up. However, I advised a meeting of the church
members, and I attended the meeting. I put the
case to them--it was only a handful of men and
women--and there was silence for a little. Then
an old man rose and, in a quavering voice, said
the matter was quite clear; that there evidently
was nothing to do but to sell, and that he would
agree with the others in the necessity; but as
the church had been his church home from boyhood,
so he quavered and quivered on, he begged
that they would excuse him from actually taking
part in disposing of it; and in a deep silence he
went haltingly from the room.
``The men and the women looked at one another,
still silent, sadly impressed, but not knowing
what to do. And I said to them: `Why not start
over again, and go on with the church, after all!' ''
Typical Conwellism, that! First, the impulse
to help those who need helping, then the inspiration
and leadership.
`` `But the building is entirely too tumble-
down to use,' said one of the men, sadly; and I
knew he was right, for I had examined it; but I
said:
`` `Let us meet there to-morrow morning and
get to work on that building ourselves and put
it in shape for a service next Sunday.'
``It made them seem so pleased and encouraged,
and so confident that a new possibility was
opening that I never doubted that each one of
those present, and many friends besides, would
be at the building in the morning. I was there
early with a hammer and ax and crowbar that I
had secured, ready to go to work--but no one else
- readily [´redili]
ad.乐意地；容易地 (初中英语单词) - correspondent [,kɔri´spɔndənt] n.记者 a.符合的 (初中英语单词)
- probable [´prɔbəbəl] a.大概的n.很可能的事 (初中英语单词)
- foundation [faun´deiʃən] n.建立；基金；地基 (初中英语单词)
- lawyer [´lɔ:jə] n.律师；法学家 (初中英语单词)
- obviously [´ɔbviəsli] ad.明显地；显而易见地 (初中英语单词)
- innocent [´inəsənt] a.无罪的；单纯的 (初中英语单词)
- proudly [´praudli] ad.骄傲地；傲慢地 (初中英语单词)
- marvel [´mɑ:vəl] n.令人惊异的事；奇迹 (初中英语单词)
- romantic [rəu´mæntik] a.传奇(式)的；浪漫的 (初中英语单词)
- romance [rəu´mæns] n.中世纪骑士小说 (初中英语单词)
- calmly [´kɑ:mli] ad.平静地；无风浪地 (初中英语单词)
- audience [´ɔ:diəns] n.听众；观众；接见 (初中英语单词)
- actually [´æktʃuəli] ad.事实上；实际上 (初中英语单词)
- consequence [´kɔnsikwəns] n.结果；后果；推断 (初中英语单词)
- emotional [i´məuʃənəl] a.易动感情的；情感的 (初中英语单词)
- learning [´lə:niŋ] n.学习；学问；知识 (初中英语单词)
- ashamed [ə´ʃeimd] a.惭愧；不好意思 (初中英语单词)
- freely [´fri:li] ad.自由地；慷慨地 (初中英语单词)
- tremendous [tri´mendəs] a.可怕的；巨大的 (初中英语单词)
- sleeping [´sli:piŋ] n.&a.睡着(的) (初中英语单词)
- telegraph [´teligrɑ:f] n.&v.(打)电报；电告 (初中英语单词)
- immense [i´mens] a.广大的，无限的 (初中英语单词)
- impression [im´preʃən] n.印刷；印象；效果 (初中英语单词)
- unable [ʌn´eibəl] a.不能的；无能为力的 (初中英语单词)
- possibility [,pɔsə´biliti] n.可能(性)；希望；前途 (初中英语单词)
- hammer [´hæmə] n.锤子 v.重击 (初中英语单词)
- westward [´westwəd] a.向西的 n.西方；西部 (高中英语单词)
- mature [mə´tjuə] a.成熟的 v.(使)成熟 (高中英语单词)
- infectious [in´fekʃəs] a.传染，传染(性)的 (高中英语单词)
- indignation [,indig´neiʃən] n.愤慨；气愤 (高中英语单词)
- thereafter [ðeə´rɑ:ftə] adv.此后，其后 (高中英语单词)
- temperament [´tempərəmənt] n.气质；性格 (高中英语单词)
- patriotic [,pætri´ɔtik] a.爱国的 (高中英语单词)
- intense [in´tens] a.强烈的；紧张的 (高中英语单词)
- awkward [´ɔ:kwəd] a.笨拙的；为难的 (高中英语单词)
- promotion [prə´məuʃən] n.促进；提升；倡仪 (高中英语单词)
- gravity [´græviti] n.严肃；严重；重力 (高中英语单词)
- throng [θrɔŋ] n.群众 v.拥挤；群集 (高中英语单词)
- colonel [´kə:nəl] n.海(陆)军上校 (高中英语单词)
- inspiration [,inspi´reiʃən] n.鼓舞；灵感；启发 (高中英语单词)
- handful [hændful] n.一把，少数，一小撮 (高中英语单词)
- confident [´kɔnfidənt] a.有信心的，自信的 (高中英语单词)
- stirring [´stə:riŋ] a.活跃的；热闹的 (英语四级单词)
- lincoln [´liŋkən] n.林肯 (英语四级单词)
- orator [´ɔrətə] n.演说者；雄辩家 (英语四级单词)
- warrant [´wɔrənt] n.根据；委任书；权利 (英语四级单词)
- restlessly [´restlisli] ad.不安定地；烦躁地 (英语六级单词)
- lecturer [´lektʃərə] n.演讲者；讲师 (英语六级单词)
- deacon [´di:kən] n.(教会的)执事 (英语六级单词)
- runaway [´rʌnəwei] n.逃跑(者) a.逃亡的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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