that
audience, for they responded so
keenly and
with such heartfelt pleasure throughout the entire
lecture. And not only were they immensely
pleased and amused and interested--and to
achieve that at a crossroads church was in
itself a
triumph to be proud of--but I knew that
every
listener was given an
impulse toward doing
something for himself and for others, and that
with at least some of them the
impulse would
materialize in acts. Over and over one realizes
what a power such a man wields.
And what an unselfishness! For, far on in
years as he is, and
suffering pain, he does not
chop down his lecture to a
definite length; he
does not talk for just an hour or go on grudgingly
for an hour and a half. He sees that the people
are fascinated and inspired, and he forgets pain,
ignores time, forgets that the night is late and that
he has a long journey to go to get home, and
keeps on
generously" target="_blank" title="ad.慷慨地">
generously for two hours! And every
one wishes it were four.
Always he talks with ease and sympathy.
There are
geniality,
composure, humor, simple
and
homely jests--yet never does the
audienceforget that he is every moment in tremendous
earnest. They
bubble with responsive laughter
or are silent in riveted attention. A stir can be
seen to sweep over an
audience, of
earnestness" target="_blank" title="n.认真,急切;坚定">
earnestness or
surprise or
amusement or
resolve. When he is
grave and sober or fervid the people feel that he
is himself a fervidly
earnest man, and when he is
telling something
humorous there is on his part
almost a repressed
chuckle, a
genialappreciationof the fun of it, not in the least as if he were laughing
at his own humor, but as if he and his hearers
were laughing together at something of which they
were all
humorously cognizant.
Myriad successes in life have come through the
direct
inspiration of this single lecture. One hears
of so many that there must be
vastly more that
are never told. A few of the most recent were
told me by Dr. Conwell himself, one being of
a farmer boy who walked a long distance to hear
him. On his way home, so the boy, now a man,
has written him, he thought over and over of
what he could do to advance himself, and before
he reached home he
learned that a teacher was
wanted at a certain country school. He knew
he did not know enough to teach, but was sure he
could learn, so he
bravely asked for the place.
And something in his
earnestness" target="_blank" title="n.认真,急切;坚定">
earnestness made him win
a
temporary appointment. Thereupon he worked
and
studied so hard and so devotedly, while he
daily taught, that within a few months he was
regularly employed there. ``And now,'' says
Conwell,
abruptly, with his
characteristic skim-
ming over of the
intermediate details between the
important
beginning of a thing and the satisfactory
end, ``and now that young man is one of
our college presidents.''
And very recently a lady came to Dr. Conwell,
the wife of an
exceptionallyprominent man
who was earning a large salary, and she told him
that her husband was so unselfishly
generouswith money that often they were almost in straits.
And she said they had bought a little farm as a
country place, paying only a few hundred dollars
for it, and that she had said to herself,
laughingly, after
hearing the lecture, ``There are no
acres of diamonds on this place!'' But she also
went on to tell that she had found a spring of
exceptionally fine water there, although in buying
they had scarcely known of the spring at all;
and she had been so inspired by Conwell that she
had had the water analyzed and,
finding that it
was
remarkably pure, had begun to have it bottled
and sold under a trade name as special spring
water. And she is making money. And she also
sells pure ice from the pool, cut in winter-time
and all because of ``Acres of Diamonds''!
Several millions of dollars, in all, have been
received by Russell Conwell as the proceeds from
this single lecture. Such a fact is almost staggering--
and it is more staggering to realize what
good is done in the world by this man, who does
not earn for himself, but uses his money in
immediate helpfulness. And one can neither think
nor write with
moderation when it is further
realized that far more good than can be done
directly with money he does by uplifting and
inspiring with this lecture. Always his heart is
with the weary and the heavy-laden. Always
he stands for self-betterment.
Last year, 1914, he and his work were given
unique
recognition. For it was known by his
friends that this particular lecture was approaching
its five-thousandth
delivery, and they planned
a
celebration of such an event in the history of the
most popular lecture in the world. Dr. Conwell
agreed to deliver it in the Academy of Music, in
Philadelphia, and the building was packed and
the streets outside were thronged. The proceeds
from all sources for that five-thousandth lecture
were over nine thousand dollars.
The hold which Russell Conwell has gained on
the affections and respect of his home city was
seen not only in the thousands who
strove to
hear him, but in the
prominent men who served
on the local committee in
charge of the
celebration.
There was a national committee, too, and
the nation-wide love that he has won, the nation-
wide
appreciation of what he has done and is
still doing, was shown by the fact that among the
names of the notables on this committee were
those of nine governors of states. The Governor
of Pennsylvania was himself present to do Russell
Conwell honor, and he gave to him a key
emblematic of the Freedom of the State.
The ``Freedom of the State''--yes; this man,
well over seventy, has won it. The Freedom of
the State, the Freedom of the Nation--for this
man of helpfulness, this
marvelous exponent of
the
gospel of success, has worked
marvelously for
the freedom, the betterment, the liberation, the
advancement, of the individual.
FIFTY YEARS ON THE LECTURE
PLATFORM
BY
RUSSELL H. CONWELL
AN Auto
biography! What an
absurd request!
If all the conditions were
favorable, the story
of my public Life could not be made interesting.
It does not seem possible that any will care to
read so plain and uneventful a tale. I see nothing
in it for boasting, nor much that could be helpful.
Then I never saved a scrap of paper intentionally
concerning my work to which I could refer, not
a book, not a
sermon, not a lecture, not a newspaper
notice or
account, not a magazine article,
not one of the kind biographies written from time
to time by noble friends have I ever kept even as
a souvenir, although some of them may be in my
library. I have ever felt that the writers concerning
my life were too
generous and that my own
work was too
hastily done. Hence I have nothing
upon which to base an autobiographical
account,
except the recollections which come to an
overburdened mind.
My general view of half a century on the
lecture
platform brings to me precious and beautiful
memories, and fills my soul with
devout gratitude
for the blessings and kindnesses which have
been given to me so far beyond my deserts.
So much more success has come to my hands
than I ever expected; so much more of good
have I found than even youth's wildest dream
included; so much more
effective have been my
weakest endeavors than I ever planned or hoped--
that a
biography written truthfully would be
mostly an
account of what men and women have
done for me.
I have lived to see
accomplished far more than
my highest
ambition included, and have seen the
enterprises I have undertaken rush by me, pushed
on by a thousand strong hands until they have
left me far behind them. The realities are like
dreams to me. Blessings on the
loving hearts and
noble minds who have been so
willing to sacrifice
for others' good and to think only of what
they could do, and never of what they should get!
Many of them have ascended into the Shining
Land, and here I am in mine age gazing up alone,
_Only
waiting till the shadows
Are a little longer grown_.
Fifty years! I was a young man, not yet of
age, when I delivered my first
platform lecture.
The Civil War of 1861-65 drew on with all its
passions, patriotism, horrors, and fears, and I was
studying law at Yale University. I had from
childhood felt that I was ``called to the ministry.''
The earliest event of memory is the prayer of
my father at family prayers in the little old cottage
in the Hampshire highlands of the Berkshire
Hills,
calling on God with a sobbing voice
to lead me into some special service for the
Saviour. It filled me with awe, dread, and fear, and
I recoiled from the thought, until I determined
to fight against it with all my power. So I sought
for other professions and for
decent excuses for
being anything but a preacher.
Yet while I was
nervous and timid before the
class in declamation and dreaded to face any
kind of an
audience, I felt in my soul a strange
impulsion toward public
speaking which for years
made me
miserable. The war and the public
meetings for recruiting soldiers furnished an outlet
for my suppressed sense of duty, and my first
lecture was on the ``Lessons of History'' as
applied to the campaigns against the Confederacy.
That
matchlesstemperanceorator and
lovingfriend, John B. Gough, introduced me to the little