THESE BUSY LATER DAYS
A Typical Week Day. A Typical Sunday. Mrs. Conwell. Back to the
Berkshires in Summer for Rest.
By the record of what Dr. Conwell has accomplished may be judged how
busy are his days.
In early youth he learned to use his time to the best advantage.
Studying and working on the farm, working and studying at Wilbraham
and Yale, told him how precious is each minute. Work he must when he
wanted to study. Study he must when he needed to work. Every minute
became as carefully treasured as though it were a miser's gold. But it
was excellent training for the busy later days when work would press
from all sides until it was distraction to know what to do first.
"Do the next thing," is the advice he gives his college students. It
is undoubtedly a saving of time to take the work that lies immediately
at hand and despatch it. But when the hand is surrounded by work in a
score of important forms, all clamoring for recognition, what is "the
next thing" becomes a question difficult to decide.
Then it is that one must plan as carefully to use one's minutes as he
does to expend one's income when expenses outrun it.
His private secretary gave the following account, in the "Temple
Magazine," of a week day and a Sunday in Dr. Conwell's life:
"No two days are alike in his work, and he has no specified hour for
definite classes of calls or kinds of work.
"After breakfast he goes to his office in The Temple. Here visitors
from half a dozen to twenty await him, representing a great variety of
needs or business.
"Visitors wait their turn in the ante-room of his study and are
received by him in the order of their arrival. The importance of
business, rank or social position of the caller does not interfere
with this order.
[Illustration: THE CHORUS OF THE BAPTIST TEMPLE]
"Throughout the whole day in the street, at the church, at the
College, wherever he goes, he is beset by persons urging him for
money, free lectures, to write introductions to all sorts of books,
for sermons, or to take up collections for indigent individuals or
churches. Letters reach him even from Canada, asking him to take care
of some aunt, uncle, runaway son, or needy family, in Philadelphia.
Sometimes for days together he does not secure five minutes to attend
to his correspondence. Personal letters which he must answer himself
often wait for weeks before he can attend to them, although he
endeavors, as a rule, to answer important letters on the day they
are received. People call to request him to deliver addresses at
the dedication of churches, schoolhouses, colleges, flag-raisings,
commencements, and anniversaries, re-unions, political meetings, and
all manner of reform movements. Authors urge him to read their work in
manuscript; orators without orations write to him and come to him for
address or sermon; applications flow in for letters of introduction
highly recommending entire strangers for anything they want. Agents
for books come to him for endorsements, with religious newspapers for
subscriptions and articles, and with patent medicines urging him to be
'cured with one bottle.'
"It is well known that he was a lawyer before entering the ministry,
and orphans, guardians, widows, and young men entering business come
to him asking him to make wills, contracts, etc., and to give them
points of law concerning their undertakings. Weddings and funerals
claim his attention. Urgent messages to visit the sick and the dying
and the unfortunate come to him, and these appeals are answered first
either by himself or the associate pastor; the cries of the suffering
making the most eloquent of all appeals to these two busy men."
Frequently he comes to the church again in the afternoon to meet
some one by appointment. Both afternoon and evening are crowded with
engagements to see people, to make addresses, to attend special
meetings of various kinds, with College and Hospital duties.
"I am expected to preside at six different meetings to-night," he said
smilingly to a friend at The Temple one evening as the membership
began to stream in to look after its different lines of work.
Much, of the time during the winter he is away lecturing, but he keeps
in constant communication with The Temple and its work. By letter,
wire or telephone he is ready to respond to any emergency requiring
his advice or suggestion. These lecture trips carry him all over the
country, but they are so carefully planned that with rare exceptions
he is in the pulpit Sunday morning. Frequently, when returning, he
wires for his secretary to meet him part way, if from the West, at
Harrisburg or Altoona; if from the South, at Washington or beyond. The
secretary brings the mail and the remaining hours of the journey are
filled with work, dictating letters, articles for magazines or press,
possibly material for a book, whatever work most presses.
Pastoral calls in the usual sense of the term cannot be made in a
membership of more than three thousand. But visits to the sick, to
the poor, to the dying, are paid whenever the call comes. To help and
console the afflicted, to point the way to Christ, is the work nearest
and dearest to Dr. Conwell's heart and always comes first. Funerals,
too, claim a large part of the pastor's time, seven in one day among
the Grace Church membership calling for the services of both Dr.
Conwell and his associate. Weddings are not an unimportant feature,
six having been one day's record at The Temple.
Of his Sundays, his secretary says:
"From the time of rising until half-past eight, he gives special
attention to the subject of the morning sermon, and usually selects
his text and general line of thought before sitting down to breakfast.
After family prayers, he spends half an hour in his study, at home,
examining books and authorities in the completion of his sermon.
Sometimes he is unable to select a text until reaching The Temple. He
has, though rarely, made his selection after taking his place at the
pulpit.
"At nine-thirty, he is always promptly in his place at the opening of
the Young Men's prayer-meeting or at the Women's prayer-meeting in the
Lower Temple. At the Young Men's meeting he plays the organ and leads
the singing. If he takes any other part in the meeting he is very
brief, in talk or prayer.
"At half-past ten he goes directly to the Upper Temple, where as a
rule he conducts all the exercises with the exception of the 'notices'
and a prayer offered by the associate pastor, or in his absence at an
overflow service in the Lower Temple, by the dean of the College or
chaplain of the Hospital. The pastor meets the candidates for
baptism in his study before service, for conference and prayer. In
administering the ordinance, he is assisted by the associate pastor,
who leads the candidates into the baptistry.
"The pastor reads the hymns. It is his custom to preach without
any notes whatever; rarely, a scrap of paper may lie on the desk
containing memoranda or suggestions of leading thoughts, but
frequently even when this is the case the notes are ignored.
"A prominent--possibly the prevailing--idea in the preparation of his
sermons is the need of individuals in his congregation. He aims to
say those things which will be the most helpful and inspiring to the
unconverted seeking Christ, or to the Christian desiring to lead a
nobler spiritual life. It may be said of nearly all his illustrations
that they present such a variety of spiritual teaching that different
persons will catch from them different suggestions adapted to needs of
each.
"The morning service closes promptly at twelve o'clock; then follows
an informal reception for thirty minutes or it may be an hour, for
hundreds, sometimes a thousand and more, many of them visitors from
other cities and states, press forward to shake hands with him. This,
Dr. Conwell considers an important part of his church work, giving him
an opportunity to meet many of the church members and extend personal
greetings to those whom he would have no possible opportunity to visit
in their homes.
"He dines at one o'clock. At two, he is in The Temple; again he
receives more callers, and if possible makes some preparation for
services of the afternoon, in connection with the Sunday-school work.
At two-thirty, he is present at the opening of the Junior department
of the Sunday-school in the Lower Temple, where he takes great
interest in the singing, which is a special feature of that
department. At three o'clock, he appears promptly on the platform in
the auditorium where the Adult department of the Sunday-school meets,
gives a short exposition of the lesson for the day, and answers from
the Question Box. These cover a great variety of subjects, from the
absurdity of some crack-brained crank to the pathetic appeal of some
needy soul. Some of these questions may be sent in by mail during the
week, but the greater part of them are handed to the pastor by the
ushers. To secure an answer the question must be upon some subject
connected with religious life or experience, some theme of Christian
ethics in everyday life.
"When the questions are answered, the pastor returns to the Lower
Temple, going to the Junior, Intermediate, or Kindergarten department
to assist in the closing exercises. At the close of the Sunday-school
session, teachers and scholars surround him, seeking information or
advice concerning the school work, their Christian experience or
perhaps to tell him their desire to unite with the church.[A]
[Footnote A: Lately (1905), however, he has had to give up much of
this Sunday-school work on account of the need of rest.]
"As a rule, he leaves The Temple at five o'clock If he finds no
visitors with appeals for counsel or assistance waiting for him at his
home, he lies down for half an hour. Usually the visitors are there,
and his half-hour rest is postponed until after the evening service.
"Supper at five-thirty, after which he goes to his study to prepare
for the evening service, selecting his subject and looking up such
references as he thinks may be useful. At seven-fifteen, he is in The
Temple again, often visiting for a few moments one of the Christian
Endeavor societies, several of which are at that time in session in
the Lower Temple. At half-past seven the general service is held in
the auditorium. The evening sermon is published weekly in the "Temple
Review." He gives all portions of this service full attention.
"At nine o'clock this service closes, and the pastor goes once more
to the Lower Temple, where both congregations, the 'main' and the
'overflow' unite, so far as is possible, in a union prayer service.
The hall of the Lower Temple and the rooms connected with it are
always overcrowded at this service meeting, and many are unable to
get within hearing of the speakers on the platform. Here Dr. Conwell
presides at the organ and has general direction of the evangelistic
services, assisted by the associate pastor. As enquirers rise for
prayers,--the prayers of God's people,--Dr. Conwell makes note of each
one, and to their great surprise recognizes them when he meets them on
the street or at another service, long afterward. This union meeting
is followed by another general reception especially intended for a few
words of personal conversation with those who have risen for prayer
and with strangers who are brought forward and introduced by members
of the church. This is the most fatiguing part of the day's work and
occupies from one hour to an hour and a half. He reaches home about
eleven o'clock and before retiring makes a careful memoranda of such
people as have requested him to pray for them, and such other matters
as may require his attention during the week. He seldom gets to bed
much before midnight."
In all the crowd and pressure of work, he is ably assisted by Mrs.
Conwell. In the early days of his ministry at Grace Church she was
his private secretary, but as the work grew for both of them, she was
compelled to give this up.
She enters into all her husband's work and plans with cheery, helpful
enthusiasm. Yet her hands are full of her own special church work, for
she is a most important member of the various working associations of
the church, college and hospital. For many years she was treasurer of
the large annual fairs of The Temple, as well as being at the head of
a number of large teas and fairs held for the benefit of Samaritan
Hospital. In addition to all this church and charitable work, she
makes the home a happy centre of the brightest social life and a
quiet, well-ordered retreat for the tired preacher and lecturer when
he needs rest.
A writer in "The Ladies' Home Journal," in a series of articles on
"Wives of Famous Pastors," says of Mrs. Conwell:
"Mrs. Conwell finds her greatest happiness in her husband's work, and
gives him always her sympathy and devotion. She passes many hours at
work by his side when he is unable to notice her by word or look; she
knows he delights In her presence, for he often says when writing, 'I
can do better if you remain.' Her whole life is wrapped up in the work
of The Temple, and all those multitudinous enterprises connected with
that most successful of churches.
"She makes an ideal wife for a pastor whose work is varied and whose
time is as interrupted as are Mr. Conwell's work and time. On her
husband's lecture tours she looks well after his comfort, seeing to
those things which a busy and earnest man is almost sure to overlook
and neglect. In all things he finds her his helpmeet and caretaker."
From this busy life the family escape in summer to Dr. Conwell's
boyhood home in the Berkshires. Here amid the hills he loves, with the
brook of his boyhood days again singing him to sleep, he rests and
recuperates for the coming winter's campaign.
The little farmhouse is vastly changed since those early days. Many
additions have been made, modern improvements added, spacious porches
surround it on all sides, and a green, velvety lawn dotted with
shrubbery and flowers has replaced the rocks and stones, the sparse
grass of fifty years ago. If Martin and Miranda Conwell could return
and see the little house now with its artistic furnishings, its walls
hung with pictures from those very lands the mother read her boy
about, they would think miracles had indeed come to pass.
In front of the house where once flashed a little brook that "set the
silences to rhyme" is now a silvery lake framed in rich green foliage.
Up in the hill where swayed the old hemlock with the eagle's nest for
a crown rises an observatory. From the top one gazes in summer into a
billowy sea of green in which the spire of the Methodist church rises
like a far distant white sail.
It is a happy family that gathers in the old homestead during the
summer days. His daughter, now Mrs. Tuttle, comes with her children,
Mr. Turtle, who is a civil engineer, joining them when his work
permits. Dr. Conwell's son Leon, proprietor and editor of the
Somerville (Mass.) "Journal," with his wife and child, always spend as
much of the summer there as possible. One vacant chair there is in the
happy family circle. Agnes, the only child of Dr. and Mrs. Conwell,
died in 1901, in her twenty-sixth year. She was the wife of Alfred
Barker. A remarkably bright and gifted girl, clever with her pen,
charming in her personality, an enthusiastic and successful worker in
the many interests of church, college and hospital, her death was a
sad loss to her family and friends.
Not only the beauty of the place but the associations bring rest and
peace to the tired spirit of the busy preacher and lecturer, and he
returns to his work refreshed, ready to take up with rekindled energy
and enthusiasm the tasks awaiting him.
Thus his busy life goes on, full of unceasing work for the good of
others. Over his bed hangs a gold sheathed sword which to him is a
daily inspiration to do some deed worthy of the sacrifice which it
typifies. "I look at it each morning," said Dr. Conwell to a friend,
"and pray for help to do something that day to make my life worthy of
such a sacrifice." And each, day he prays the prayer his father prayed
for him in boyhood days, "May no person be the worse because I have
lived this day, but may some one be the better."