``The trustees seemed much impressed, and it
turned out that they were far more impressed
than I could possibly have hoped, for in a few
days one of them came to me and said that he
thought it would be an excellent idea to buy a
lot on Broad Street--the very lot on which the
building now stands.'' It was
characteristic of
Dr. Conwell that he did not point out, what every
one who knows him would understand, that it was
his own
inspiration put into the trustees which
resulted in this quick and
definite move on the
part of one of them. ``I talked the matter over
with the owner of the property, and told him of
the
beginning of the fund, the story of the little
girl. The man was not one of our church, nor
in fact, was he a church-goer at all, but he listened
attentively to the tale of the fifty-seven cents
and simply said he was quite ready to go ahead
and sell us that piece of land for ten thousand
dollars,
taking--and the unexpectedness of this
deeply touched me
taking a first
payment of just
fifty-seven cents and letting the entire balance
stand on a five-per-cent. mortgage!
``And it seemed to me that it would be the
right thing to accept this
unexpectedly liberal
proposition, and I went over the entire matter
on that basis with the trustees and some of the
other members, and all the people were soon
talking of having a new church. But it was not
done in that way, after all, for, fine though that
way would have been, there was to be one still
finer.
``Not long after my talk with the man who
owned the land, and his
surprisingly good-hearted
proposition, an exchange was arranged for me one
evening with a Mount Holly church, and my wife
went with me. We came back late, and it was
cold and wet and
miserable, but as we approached
our home we saw that it was all lighted from
top to bottom, and it was clear that it was full
of people. I said to my wife that they seemed to
be having a better time than we had had, and we
went in, curious to know what it was all about.
And it turned out that our
absence had been
intentionally arranged, and that the church people
had gathered at our home to meet us on our return.
And I was utterly amazed, for the spokesman
told me that the entire ten thousand dollars
had been raised and that the land for the church
that I wanted was free of debt. And all had come
so quickly and directly from that dear little girl's
fifty-seven cents.''
Doesn't it seem like a fairy tale! But then this
man has all his life been making fairy tales into
realities. He inspired the child. He inspired the
trustees. He inspired the owner of the land. He
inspired the people.
The building of the great church--the Temple
Baptist Church, as it is termed--was a great
under
taking for the
congregation; even though
it had been
swiftly growing from the day of Dr.
Conwell's
takingcharge of it, it was something
far ahead of what, except in the eyes of an enthusiast,
they could possibly complete and pay for
and support. Nor was it an easy task.
Ground was broken for the building in 1889,
in 1891 it was opened for
worship, and then
came years of raising money to clear it. But it
was long ago placed completely out of debt, and
with only a single large subscription--one of ten
thousand dollars--for the church is not in a
wealthy
neighborhood, nor is the
congregationmade up of the great and rich.
The church is built of stone, and its interior
is a great amphitheater. Special attention has
been given to fresh air and light; there is nothing
of the dim, religious light that goes with medieval
churchliness. Behind the
pulpit are tiers of seats
for the great
chorus choir. There is a large organ.
The building is
peculiarly adapted for hearing
and
seeing, and if it is not,
strictly speaking,
beautiful in itself, it is beautiful when it is filled
with encircling rows of men and women.
Man of feeling that he is, and one who
appreciates the importance of symbols, Dr. Conwell
had a heart of olive-wood built into the front of the
pulpit, for the wood was from an olive-tree in the
Garden of Gethsemane. And the amber-colored
tiles in the inner walls of the church bear, under
the glaze, the names of thousands of his people;
for every one, young or old, who helped in the
building, even to the giving of a single dollar, has
his name inscribed there. For Dr. Conwell wished
to show that it is not only the house of the Lord,
but also, in a
keenly personal sense, the house of
those who built it.
The church has a possible seating
capacity of
4,200, although only 3,135 chairs have been put
in it, for it has been the desire not to crowd the
space needlessly. There is also a great room for
the Sunday-school, and
extensive rooms for the
young men's association, the young women's
association, and for a kitchen, for
executive offices,
for meeting-places for church officers and boards
and committees. It is a
spacious and practical
and complete church home, and the people feel
at home there.
``You see again,'' said Dr. Conwell, musingly,
``the
advantage of aiming at big things. That
building represents $109,000 above ground. It
is free from debt. Had we built a small church, it
would now be heavily mortgaged.''
IV
HIS POWER AS ORATOR AND PREACHER
EVEN as a young man Conwell won local fame
as an
orator. At the
outbreak of the Civil
War he began making
patriotic speeches that
gained enlistments. After going to the front he
was sent back home for a time, on furlough, to
make more speeches to draw more recruits, for his
speeches were so
persuasive, so powerful, so full
of
homely and
patriotic feeling, that the men who
heard them thronged into the ranks. And as a
preacher he uses
persuasion, power, simple and
homelyeloquence, to draw men to the ranks of
Christianity.
He is an
orator born, and has developed this
inborn power by the hardest of study and thought
and practice. He is one of those rare men who
always seize and hold the attention. When he
speaks, men listen. It is quality, temperament,
control--the word is immaterial, but the fact is
very material indeed.
Some quarter of a century ago Conwell published
a little book for students on the study and practice
of
oratory. That ``clear-cut articulation is the
charm of
eloquence'' is one of his insisted-upon
statements, and it well illustrates the lifelong
practice of the man himself, for every word as
he talks can be heard in every part of a large building,
yet always he speaks without
apparent effort.
He avoids ``elocution.'' His voice is soft-pitched
and never breaks, even now when he is over
seventy, because, so he explains it, he always
speaks in his natural voice. There is never a
straining after effect.
``A
speaker must possess a large-hearted regard
for the
welfare of his
audience,'' he writes, and
here again we see Conwell explaining Conwellism.
``Enthusiasm invites enthusiasm,'' is another of his
points of importance; and one understands that
it is by
deliberate purpose, and not by chance,
that he tries with such
tremendous effort to put
enthusiasm into his hearers with every
sermonand every lecture that he delivers.
``It is easy to raise a laugh, but dangerous, for
it is the greatest test of an
orator's control of his
audience to be able to land them again on the
solid earth of sober thinking.'' I have known
him at the very end of a
sermon have a
ripple of
laughter sweep
freely over the entire
congregation,
and then in a moment he has every individual
under his control, listening
soberly to his words.
He never fears to use humor, and it is always
very simple and
obvious and
effective. With him
even a very simple pun may be used, not only with-
out
taking away from the strength of what he is
saying, but with a vivid increase of impressiveness.
And when he says something funny it is
in such a
delightful and
confidential way, with
such a
genial, quiet,
infectious humorousness, that
his
audience is captivated. And they never think
that he is telling something funny of his own;
it seems, such is the skill of the man, that he is
just letting them know of something humorous
that they are to enjoy with him.
``Be
absolutelytruthful and scrupulously clear,''
he writes; and with
delightfully terse common
sense, he says, ``Use
illustrations that illustrate''--
and never did an
orator live up to this injunction
more than does Conwell himself. Nothing is more
surprising, nothing is more interesting, than the
way in which he makes use as
illustrations of the
impressions and incidents of his long and varied
life, and,
whatever it is, it has direct and instant
bearing on the progress of his
discourse. He will
refer to something that he heard a child say in a
train
yesterday; in a few minutes he will speak
of something that he saw or some one whom he
met last month, or last year, or ten years ago--
in Ohio, in California, in London, in Paris, in
New York, in Bombay; and each memory, each
illustration, is a
hammer with which he drives
home a truth.
The vast number of places he has visited and
people he has met, the
infinitevariety of things his
observant eyes have seen, give him his ceaseless
flow of
illustrations, and his memory and his
skill make
admirable use of them. It is seldom
that he uses an
illustration from what he has
read; everything is,
characteristically, his own.