The GOSPEL TRUTH
LIFE of

WILLIAM BOOTH

FOUNDER and FIRST GENERAL

of the SALVATION ARMY

 by

Harold Begbie

1920

In Two Volumes

Volume 2

Chapter 20

 

IN WHICH PERSONAL SORROWS CLASH WITH PUBLIC ESTEEM

1902

 

THERE was now an unmistakable "demand" for Booth blood. In his seventy-third year the preacher of the changed heart found himself called to come and help the sad and the sorrowful in every quarter of the world. No man of his time had anything like so great an influence, no man was more intimately known to the nations of the world.

Arrangements were made for him this year to visit France, Germany, Holland, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland, Italy, the United States, and Canada. In each of these countries he was visiting his own people, his purpose being to review his own battalions, and to inspire these faithful followers with fresh enthusiasm for the war against sin; but in each of these countries he would be received by those who were not Salvationists, and vast crowds would follow him who had no intention of becoming Salvationists.

This remarkable popularity was a tribute to his courage, his picturesqueness, and his humanity. Even those who never realized how immensely important to the salvation of their material fortunes as well as to the salvation of their spiritual well-being, was this message of the old Englishman with his head of tousled white hair and his beard of snow, recognized that he had fought a brave fight, that he had introduced a touch of colour into the drab life of an industrial civilization, and that he had cared for the sorrowful and had helped the bottom dog to get up again. It would have been well for them, in that age of logical "Darwinism," when the forces of Armageddon were ringing with the hammers of death, if they had seen more deeply into the significance of his spiritual message.

It was in this year of his life that those domestic troubles of which we have spoken in an earlier chapter came to a head. The old man, who was a General as well as a father, had to bear the pain of seeing two or three of his middleaged children leave the Flag which he had planted, with blood and tears and in the face of the whole world's scorn, during their infancy. His journal refers to these events with a pathos which he hid not only from the world but from his children. Nevertheless, there is in all these entries the stubborn spirit of his courage, witnessing to his determination to press on with the battle at all and every cost. He cries out at one point:

I shall not attempt to describe my feelings at this utterly bewildering blow. Altogether unexpected, and delivered in such a manner. It must be imagined.

 

And at another:

I got thro' the night's meeting as well as I was able ....

 

And again:

I am struggling hard to practise the life of faith I am always impressing on others.

 

And again:

I suppose I am not to be trusted! . . . A Melancholy Day.

 

But with these momentary cries from the heart of the old warrior there are references to great meetings crowded with men and women, and statements of the number seeking mercy at the penitent-form, and accounts of the words he had uttered on these occasions.

He was supported through his domestic sorrows by his daughter Emma, to whom he was devoted in a particular manner. But his journal has the record that the world's battle is of more account than the peace of his own heart.

 

He must go on with his meetings and she must return to her work in the United States.

 

. . . Bade the Consul (his daughter Emma) a very reluctant good-bye. Over the Atlantic for a few days, just snatched from the jaws of death, so closely bound up with the darkest phases of my life; it seems rather hard to have to rush away from her for three days at a time.

 

These meetings of his are the best anaesthetics for the pain at his heart:

I had unusual power. I made them laugh and shout and wince and weep by turns. At least God did by me. I take none of the credit, for my poor heart was flat and sore enough.

 

I feel like beginning life afresh this morning; my heart is stirred with earnest desires to realize more of the indwelling presence of God. What an opportunity for usefulness is mine. "Who is sufficient for these things?" Oh, my Lord, my sufficiency is of Thee.

 

Again and again he finds relief from his sorrows in the love and enthusiasm of his followers:

Here is Ipswich . . . and such a glad welcome at the Station, where the Soldiers almost danced for joy at the meeting as I took my place on the platform. How Salvationists do love one another, and how pleasant it is that they are not afraid to show their affection.

 

But in the midst of these joyful manifestations of affection he comes upon places where the coldness or indifference of the people strikes a blow at his heart. For instance, on Good Friday of this year he writes in his journal:

 

All days are very much alike to me, differing mainly as they offer me the opportunity for greater or less usefulness. To-day was supposed to represent a mighty chance in these Welsh Valleys. But it did not prove to be the case. There were games, concerts, football matches, fine weather in profusion, while everywhere there was that indescribable holiday feeling which seems to get all around the people like an atmosphere, and makes it difficult to get the unsaved into the buildings or to produce any definite or effective conviction in them when they are there.

 

He moralizes, too, over lost opportunities:

Cecil Rhodes is dead. He has been ill, and dangerously ill for some time. Now he is gone to his account. The S.A. has lost a real friend, so far as this world's good and influence are concerned. I cannot help feeling very sad. I wonder whether in our several interviews I did what I could for his soul. Oh, what a snare hoping for a more convenient season is, not only for the sinner saving himself but for the saint saving other people. I certainly had not the most distant idea of him passing away like this. He was only 49, and had the appearance of being a hearty man. Heart disease was his root malady, and dropsy the immediate cause of his death.

 

Then we come across an entry which carries us back to the days when he was followed through the streets of Nottingham by a bevy of adoring young women, and when his hair was raven and his pale face was without beard or moustache:

My sister is reported to be dying. Florrie [Mrs. Bramwell Booth] has been with her and writes--"If the General wants to make sure of seeing her again alive he should come on to-night."

Discussed the affairs that just now are pressing with Bramwell on the journey up .... Wrote a hasty letter to Herbert, and by 6.5 was in the train en route for Nottingham.

Found my sister very ill, pulse galloping 140 beats a minute. She was very pleased to see me. Was quite cheerful, and said she was in great pain, but chattered away in broken sentences about herself, just as was her usual custom.

She described how she was taken ill . . . sent for the Doctor when the suffering became too great to bear. She said: "He came, and I said to him--'Doctor, I am very ill.' 'Yes,' he said, 'you are, and I am sorry for you.' 'Can you do anything for me?' I said. 'Yes,' he replied, 'I can give you a little chloroform.' ' Doctor,' I said, 'that means an operation.' And he said, 'Yes, it does, and you must have it at once. It must be performed within an hour and a half.' In half an hour he came back and brought a man with him to give the chloroform, and they laid me on that dressing-table," pointing to a table standing under the window, "and did their work."

I said, "Well, you have had a long life of hard work and a large amount of trouble." "Yes," she said, "I have. But oh," she interposed quite cheerily, "the Lord has been very good to me. Oh," she said," He has been very good." I said, "Well, there is a rest for you." "Yes, yes," she responded, taking the words out of my mouth and quoting the text, "There remaineth a rest for the people of God." "And I am one of them, I am," she said, "and I shall claim my rest." I said a little farther on in the conversation, "You trust Him?" "Of course I do, and I am going to trust Him right on, right on to the end."

She appeared then to get a little exhausted, and I prayed and left, promising to come back the next morning. I had proposed to leave by the 10.15 train, but on reflection resolved to remain and see what turn things took. The Doctor had said that he could give no idea as to any immediate danger, and the nurse was equally unable to form a judgment. She seemed so strong, that for my own part I felt sure she would last some time, if she did not even recover.

But on reaching the house Emily, my niece, met me weeping, and exclaimed, "Oh, I am so glad you've come, Uncle; I was afraid you would have been too late."

Oh, what a change had taken place. It was only too evident that my sister was now dying. I took her hand, called her name, and asked if she knew me; to this she signified assent. But that was all. There was a few minutes' heavy breathing, and then, without a struggle or groan, she ceased to live. As she gave her closing gasp, the words involuntarily came to my heart as though spoken to me by an invisible spirit, "Mary Newell, enter into Heaven, washed in the Blood of the Lamb." It was probably no more than a fancy or an utterance of faith and hope, but however interpreted it was a pleasant feeling; it greatly comforted me.

An admirable example of Salvation Army piety, and a very eloquent witness at once to the humility of William Booth's spiritual life and the stubborn character of his theology, is presented in the following quotation from his journal:

Some years ago I met the mother of Major von Wattenwyl, one of my oldest and most trusted Swiss Officers at Berne, at the lady's house where I was billeted. I was struck with her appearance, her spirit and her general demeanour. She was then, I think, 84 years of age, but wonderfully well preserved, with hair white as snow. She was converted when somewhere about 21 years of age. Deeply convicted of sin, and of the possibility of Salvation, she sought the blessing night and day. Doing little eating, drinking, or anything else, beside weeping and reading her Bible, and calling on God to save her. In the house and in the wood, by night and by day, she persevered in her search for the Pearl of Great Price, and at last found it to her great joy. When she commenced the struggle her hair was as black as a sloe; when she finished it was white as I saw it on that day.

When at Basle, a month ago, her daughter, the Major, was one of my best helpers, but she disappeared on the Sabbath after the morning meeting, leaving me the message that she had received a telegram to say that her Mother had fractured her hip, and that she was away home to help her.

I have just received the following letter from the Major . . . DEAR GENERAL--I have never thanked you otherwise than by wire for your loving words of comfort from Basle.

And now that I do so, I have to tell you that my beloved Mother is, so to say, at the Gate of Heaven, waiting for its opening. After much suffering now the pain has given way. Her room is like a fore-room of Heaven. The whole family is round her, and for all she has a word of Salvation and heavenly joy.

Once more I thank you, dear General, for your kind sympathy. How beautiful it is to see a Christian's death, even though the heart bursts with pain.

Dear General, I feel you are going through deep waters. But He will bring you wonderfully through, and in the midst of all the storms God is carrying on His work, unhindered. May He sustain you.--Yours, under the dear old Flag,

A. VON WATTENWYL.

 

Dear Mamma sends you the following message: "Oh yes, send the dear General my love, and say that he, who has worked a great deal, will have eternal Salvation by grace, and that I, who have worked little, will also have it by grace.

 

On reading this, after inwardly thanking God for His goodness to my friend at this her closing hour on earth, I could not help also commenting on it. Yes, true, oh gloriously true, we shall be saved by Grace, but our everlasting destiny will be shaped by our actions. Then the passage occurred to me," And they were judged every man," which must mean rewarded, "according to their works."

He was humble, he believed implicitly in salvation by grace, but he stuck to his dogmatic guns on the subject of works. Nothing could shake his faith in the common sense and shining justice of that doctrine. As a man sows, so shall he reap. Above everything Booth was for action. "When a man talks to us like that"--the reader will remember--"we tell him to go and do something."

One of the most interesting of his letters at this period is addressed to Bramwell Booth on the subject of W. T. Stead:

I have been much exercised during the night with thoughts about our interview with W.T.S. After seeing him I am always more or less tormented with the feeling that I have not dealt faithfully with him.

We must be radically different in our views; why don't we say so? Why don't we say to him as we should say to his servant girl if she came to the P.F., "Come out from amongst them," etc.?

He reckons that he was divinely guided in his connexion with John Morley on The Pall Mall, and that therein he has a "tip" as he calls it as to his proposed union with Hearst. But was it so? Has he not got mixed up and entangled with a crowd of godless worldlings who are simply seeking their own honour and wealth?

I don't understand him nor his position--and yet what a charm there is about his talk, about his open face, and kindly heart, and above all about his writing.

But what has he done with it all? He had The Pall Mall--he threw it away.

He had the love of the Salvation Army--they admired him as they have no man since outside its borders--he threw that away.

He had the esteem of nearly every generous Christian and philanthropic man and woman in the whole world after the "Eliza episode," and he threw that away with his "Julia" fantastic notions.

Then he had an unparalleled standing with Royalty, Courts, Politicians, etc., by his peace advocacy and association with the Russian Emperor's effort in that direction, and now he seems to have thrown that away by his random and infatuated Boer partisanship.

And yet here he is forced up into the notice of the whole world high and low by the Rhodes episode, and before we know where we are he may have the most widely circulated Daily Paper in the country under his control.

 

A campaign in Holland takes his attention from other matters:

A message is to hand from a University Professor with whom I was to have billeted. Advises strongly the postponement of my visit to Holland on account of the bad feeling there as the result of the South African War.

This warning is too late. Halls are taken, announcements made, and I must go through with it, trusting in God, who has taken care of me hitherto, and who will not desert me now.

So far this has certainly been the most blessed campaign for audiences and spirit and results I have ever held in this City (Amsterdam). While Memory holds her seat I can never forget the enthusiastic reception at the Soldiers' meeting on Saturday night. There was no mistaking the love and loyalty of the dear people, so far as they could reveal it by their looks and their voices, by the clapping of hands, waving of handkerchiefs, and every other plan by which the welcome of the heart can be expressed. So deep, so real, so whole-souled was the greeting that I hardly knew how to acknowledge it. I do pray that God will bless and keep every Soldier who joined in it to meet me again in Heaven.

Billeted with the --'s, two of whom "went for me" after the meeting about the cruel, unjust Englishmen in the South African War, their treatment of the women and children by the British soldiery, and I know not what.

 

At Leyden he writes:

I cannot understand the poor audiences, except on the supposition that it is "The Anti-English feeling," although no sign of it appeared in the attitude of the people to me in the meetings nor out of them.

 

In a letter to Bramwell from Holland he says:

My heart is my difficulty. I cannot help these intermittent spells of anguish over the strange actions of K---- and H---- . . . . I know all you say . . . and all my own common sense and experience and observation says . . . and all the Bible says about being careful for nothing, and ever so many things, and yet when the swirling waves come over me I cannot help the powerlessness for head work getting the mastery.

Dr. van Dyck [The United States Minister to Holland] told ---- that he was sure if there was a public reception the crowd would receive me with stones, whereas there must have been 5,000 or 6,000 people, mostly men, and they were as friendly as any crowd anywhere, indeed a long way more so than many crowds in England.

I wrote --- a longish letter. It was a distressing business, and curious as well. He leaves me after all his pledges: first, on account of his health; and, secondly, because the government of the Army is not to his satisfaction; and now is talking as though he had been called to suffer wrong in some direction! Oh dear!

 

Troubles of another nature assail him in Berlin:

After tossing to and fro the first part of the night, I dropped into a slumber this morning, but alas! at six I was woke up by a rattling sausage-machine, which I found on inquiry was worked by a butcher on the ground-floor of the building, which happened to be just in a line with my chamber.

 

Another bad night. I had hoped that the sausage-machine would have had some respect for the Sabbath, but I was mistaken. It was as active as ever, if not more so.

 

One is tempted to welcome this humble sausage-machine into history, if only as a diversion from the more distressing anxieties which preyed upon his mind. But William Booth was so constituted that little ills, while they lasted, but only while they lasted, would occasionally cause him great annoyance. He knew it, and mentions it again and again in his letters.

He hears in Berlin of the sudden illness of Edward VII.:

The whole city has been startled, and no one more so than myself, with the news that the King is ill, has had an operation, and the Coronation is indefinitely postponed.

What my feelings are it is impossible to describe. The German Nation has been feeling very strongly against Great Britain on account of the South African War, and has been at no pains to conceal her bitterness. Any deep sympathy is not to be expected now.

I have wired I.H.Q. to call for prayer for His Majesty the world over. I have no doubt about the response.

[At the beginning of the meeting] I asked for prayer from my own people, and all who feared God, and then led the audience to the Mercy-Seat, a great hush seemed to come down on all present. [The meeting was held in a theatre seating 2,000 people.]

 

I tried to do too much. First, we had the sensation of praying for the King of England. Second, half an hour's sketch of the Army, which I had promised before leaving for England. Then a sermon, and a desperate attempt to deal with an ungodly, curious audience about their own Salvation.

... 33 came out notwithstanding the multitude of curious eyes that were gazing on.

The order was perfect, indeed we have not had anything approaching misbehaviour or mocking from the start to the finish.

When leaving, an American journalist, representing a Chicago paper and a host of others in the U.S. besides, wanted to interview me. I gave him a few words. He impressed me as a very nice fellow indeed. Oh, why cannot we get such men saved and roped in for this work? I must make a new start at the task of saving the better sort of mankind.

 

He mentions in this last sentence not a passing idea, but a desire which had already taken root in his mind and which was destined to grow in the years ahead. For the present, however, his attention is held by the anxiety in England:

Everybody full of the King. Oh, with every waking thought the King, the King has come to my mind. "Oh God, spare and save him."

Yesterday I wired the Queen, assuring Her Majesty of the sympathy and prayers of the Army for the King's restoration and that she might be comforted and strengthened for the hour.

An answer came promptly back thanking me. God help her.

 

He holds his religious meetings throughout these dark hours and uses the illness of King Edward to arouse the souls of the sleepers:

The night was a crowning time, and we parted full of love for each other and for Gemany, and with increased desire and determination to live and die in the interest and for the glory of our Blessed Lord.

 

He wrote to Bramwell from Berlin on hearing that the sick King was to undergo an operation:

The King! What a disastrous matter this is; it nearly upset me altogether; how I got through as I did is another wonder added to the many in my history gone by.

I did not receive your first telegram sent off at midday till 11.30 last night, so that the second came on me at 6 o'clock with a crash; but what it must have been to you all in London I cannot imagine.

I sent a message to the Queen, and did what was considered a difficult, daring, nay, what was thought to be an almost impossible task, viz., stood before a huge congregation of Germans and asked them to sympathize with Her Majesty the Queen, and to pray for the restoration of the King. They advised me against saying anything about my telegram owing to the bitter feeling against the British, but I felt led to do it, and then prayed that God would interfere; there was a great hush all over the crowd, and my own people responded to the request.

I told them that if it was their Emperor, etc., the British Nation would pray for him, and thus everybody was brought in a measure into sympathy.

 

Difficulties concerning the representation of the Salvation Army at the coronation of Edward VII. are mentioned in subsequent letters to Bramwell:

The Coronation and your Uniform. That's right, push the thing. I should be glad of its going to the King if I thought the matter would be presented to him in the right way. I am quite sure he would not shut us out because of our Uniform.

 

I have nothing more to say about the Coronation, except I think it will be very awkward if, when I am asked all over the world by people great and small (especially great), "Were you represented at the Abbey?" I shall have to say, "They wouldn't have us in uniform, and we wouldn't go without." However, that will all be the same a hundred years hence.

 

These difficulties, the future historian will be interested to know, were finally surmounted, and the present General, Bramwell Booth, represented the Salvation Army at King Edward's coronation in Westminster Abbey, in the uniform of the Army and by direct command of His Majesty.

In the autumn of this eventful year the General set out on a tour of the United States and Canada, one of the most successful campaigns of his long life. He was not suffered to depart without a Farewell Speech, and in that speech he spoke with no little pathos, and with all his usual frankness, of the difficulties which beset his path.

After describing the lengthy programme made out for him while in the States--travelling, speaking, interviewing, and soul-saving--he gave a list of the countries it was suggested he should visit on his return; it was "a staggering one," and sounded as though "his advisers expected him to live for ever!"

 

I go somewhere else, and somewhere else (he says), then I go away to shake hands with Peter at the gates of Paradise, in the Heavenly Country where the wicked cease from troubling, and where my weary soul will have a chance of getting a furlough, and rest for a season ....

As I have looked forward to the voyaging by sea and the journeying by land, I confess that my heart has gone back to Moses, whose position I cannot but feel mine, in a shadowy sort of way, resembles. I look at him on that mountain top, see him stretched out before his Maker, with his chest heaving, and tears streaming. I hear his cry as he looks across the wilderness, and, by the eye of faith, sees his people battle with the Philistines, and cross the Jordan to the Promised Land: and I hear him cry out, "O my God, unless Thou go with me, send me not hence: unless Thou be my Guide and Counsellor, my Friend and my God, let me die on the mountain here: let me pass out of sight of men for ever." But I also hear the answer come. I have cried to my Father after the same fashion, and I believe I have His answer. God is going with me ....

My Lord, what am I and what is my father's house that Thou shouldst have raised up round the world such a host of brave, self-sacrificing, capable men and women to assist me to carry out my wishes, to obey my commands, to run at my bidding, and be willing to suffer and die for the sake of the Flag--the Flag that I have hoisted over their hearts? Who am I that I should have the privilege of commanding such a brave, heroic, and mighty host?

You who are here: you who are around me on this platform --you have helped me to make the Salvation Army. You are my children, my Soldiers, and you have helped me to make the Army what it is. My darling wife who, I believe, looks down from Heaven, and blesses me, and counts the days, if she knows, when I shall come to her side, as I am also beginning to calculate upon the time when I shall have the high privilege of embracing her in holy and everlasting love once more--she helped me! She was the soul of honour and love, and believed that the lad she fell in love with forty years ago and more was the soul of honour, or she never would have allowed my lips to press her cheek. Down to the last moments of her life my beautiful, noble wife helped me.

My precious, blessed children have helped me. It is true that one or two have fallen from my side; but I love them, and they have fallen to come back again sooner or later. I say my children have helped me; but the Salvation Army does not belong to the Booth family. It belongs to the Salvation Army. So long as the Booth family are good Salvationists, and worthy of commands, they shall have them, but only if they are. I am not the General of the family. I am the General of the Salvation Army. And when the Flag falls from my grasp I will do the best I can to ensure another taking it up who shall be beyond the old General, as the new and young are believed to be better than the old.

 

So he departed, amidst enthusiastic acclamations and most loving farewells, for his conquest of America. The first wireless telegram ever received by the Army was despatched from the s.s. Philadelphia by the General on his way to the conquest of America in October, 1902. He telegraphed:

Borne on the wings of prayer, I go to my American Campaign. From Atlantic Ocean I again call upon my people everywhere for renewed desperate fighting. God is with me: He cannot fail. I shall stand by the old Flag to the end.--THE GENERAL.

 

His welcome in America was of an extraordinary character. The travelling correspondent of The War Cry makes a vigorous effort to describe it:

We arrived at Sandy Hook soon after midnight on Friday, anchoring at the Quarantine Station at about 2 A.M. By seven o'clock, before the ship's Bill of Health had been passed, the sound of bombs was heard. The passengers rushed on deck eager to know what was happening, and noticed in the distance a fleet of steamers, decorated with flags of welcome from end to end, and loaded with shouting, cheering, enthusiastic Salvationists, who, after being up a good part of the night, had made an early start to give their General a loyal, hearty welcome to their country, and accompany his steamer in royal fashion from the Quarantine Station to the American Company's Landing-Stage.

The sights and sounds connected with this reception are altogether beyond my power to describe. Every conceivable device in the direction of sound-producing instruments, and that hearty enthusiasm peculiar to Salvationists, were brought into full play. Imagine the syrens or hooters of a dozen steamers (not all in the same key) going full blast all at one time. Add to this the explosions of bombs, rockets, and daylight fireworks. Add again the music of Salvation Army bands, and the shouts of welcome of Officers and Soldiery from the various departments of the National Headquarters, the Social Work, the Central, Western, New York, New England, and Ohio and German provinces--and a distant imagination of what took place is just possible.

I have been present at many notable events in Army history, but I have never seen anything after this kind before. It is not too much to say that it was unique. One of our rich passengers, a New York banker, remarked to me that he had never seen "so many good people together before." Another said it reminded him of the reception accorded to Admiral Dewey upon his return from the Spanish War. A third remarked that, in his judgment, "it beat the Coronation hollow." There was not an unkind word, notwithstanding the fact that some of the passengers had to walk about with their hands to their ears owing to the great noise, although they were smiling with pleasure all the time.

The General himself corroborates this description in a letter to his son:

Sometime in the middle of the night we came to anchor in what is termed the Quarantine ground. Here we waited till daylight for the inspection of the Officer of Health. No vessel being allowed to go further up the Bay, much less to come along side the Wharf of the City, without this gentleman's certificate as to there being no contagious disease on board .... We were up and about pretty early. Breakfast was announced for six, but was not ready till 7.30-- Everybody was more or less excited at the prospect of being so much nearer Home Sweet Home, as the bulk of the 1st and 2nd Saloon and many of the Steerage Passengers were returning from pleasure or family trips to Europe.

While dealing with the good things before us suddenly a burst of shouting and singing and other sounds of enthusiasm came through the Saloon windows and fetched everybody to their feet. What could it be? The question was soon answered--it is the Salvation Army come to greet their General.

I have had welcomes almost innumerable and of the most varied character in many parts of the world, but never anything which for enthusiasm and gladness surpassed that given me by the excited Salvationists that crowded the 11 steamers who came down the New York water on that Saturday morning. I cannot find time to describe it ....

I cannot tell how many Press men I spoke to, or how many times I was photographed, or how many greetings I received and returned, or how my heart leapt within me when dear Fritz (Commissioner Booth-Tucker) came on board in the Revenue Cutter, or when my dear precious Emma stepped on the steamer as we came alongside the wharf.

By 10 I had reached headquarters, and in a few minutes was meeting a group of reporters. Before I was through with them, the banging of the drums and the explosion of the bombs, which with deafening bangs followed one another in repeated succession, proclaimed the approach of the procession of the Officers and Soldiers who had followed through the City from the steamers on which they had been down the Bay.

It was a really impressive march--headed and accompanied by the police, as drum after drum and Department after Department filed under the balcony on which I stood, my whole soul was drawn out in response to the loving looks and greetings they sent up to me there.

That through, I finished my interview with the Press, which the arrival of the procession had interrupted, and after dealing with their catechizing, I sat down to luncheon with several leading Press gentlemen of higher importance. . . It was a day of days, one of the most remarkable of my life.

 

In another letter, written a few days later, he says:

You can have no idea of the riot of these last few days! It has passed everything in my history, and I have had some whirling times as you well know. But oh it has been little short of the terrific.

Of course the whole reception and the wonderful Sabbath meetings were all such a surprise, and the interest has seemed so genuine ever since, that I have deeply felt the importance of making the most of the opportunity and have toiled night and day for it.

 

We have had perfect unanimity and every sign of the most devoted loyalty to the Flag. I did the paper on Vows this afternoon, and so far as I could see it was received without a dissentient voice. It was delightful.

Just off to Boston. What a whirling, blessed time we have had!

What love and joy and confidence and resolution has come into the hearts of these Officers!

They are gone away mad to pull the Devil to pieces and do something that shall please their General.

I have surrendered myself to the Press people and picture people and anybody for the good of the cause ....

 

In other letters he says of this tour:

Who am I that such remarkable results should follow my poor work? I feel humbled before God and man, and more than ever anxious to make the most of my opportunities.

 

During this extraordinary popular campaign hundreds, of course, were unable to get into the hails where he spoke. As in the States, so in Canada. At Toronto, for example, on the occasion of a great meeting at least fifteen hundred people were turned away. The following stories are told by a Salvationist of the efforts to get admission to this particular hall:

Among those turned away were two gentlemen who had travelled a long distance to hear the General. Fortunately some friendly Officer managed to find a vacant step between the seats on the platform for them, much to their joy, which they expressed in profuse thanks.

"I am going to get in," repeated a young man who had been refused admittance by the police.

"No, sir; not another person can be admitted."

"Well, I'll bet I'll get in," he emphatically asserted, and he walked a few steps to a telephone pole, climbed up like lightning, and from its arm swung himself on to a window-sill, and so entered the gallery.

"I told you I would get in," he called down to the policeman, as he made his way in.

"Well, you deserve to get in," was the hearty reply from the guardian of the law.

Two young women came when the meeting had started, and were refused admission. "Would you keep us from going to the penitent-form?" was the startling question retorted. "Oh no," answered the innocent Officer. "Very well, then, let us go to the penitent-form," they said, were admitted, and at once walked to the front.

A rap on the side-door is answered with "Sorry, no more room." "But I am a Press Reporter, and must come in." He was admitted. A few seconds afterwards another man presented himself, saying he was from the same paper. He was told his journal was already represented, but upon his earnest assurance that he had come straight from the office, he also was admitted. A few minutes after that a third man presents himself as the representative of the same newspaper. Alas! who could tell which was the authorized one? To avoid ill-feeling he was squeezed in also; but he was the last person allowed to enter!

 

From Winnipeg the General wrote to his son in London announcing a fresh idea in his method of daily journalism:

I propose to make another slight diversion in the matter of my correspondence. That is, I propose to say a great deal in journal form that I now say in my letters to you direct. Matters of general interest I will put into the journal, and matters which are of a personal or business character into my letters.

If I can get into the habit of doing the journal more freely it will be of more interest to you now and to others in the years to come; but in making extracts for the Press, should you do so, it will require some little care, because there will be some matters concerning individuals and concerning myself even that will not be wise to publish.

I cannot make any particular promise as to how far I shall go on this line, seeing so much depends upon my surroundings and state of feeling.

 

But six days later he sits down in Kansas City to write a long and affectionate letter to Bramwell Booth's daughter, Miss Catherine Booth, one of his grandchildren. That a man so old, so busied, and so beset should find time to write letters of this kind proves to us, if such proof is necessary, how true and how tender was his heart in its human relationships:

MY DEAR CATHERINE--I want to send you my wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I would like all of you to have a really happy time as the holidays go by, and to have a blessed and useful New Year. This is the Lord's will concerning you, and therefore it is mine.

You must think of me when you are having your gifts and amusements and doing your Christmas carols and all your other holiday business. God bless you.

I shall be pulling away at the work which our Heavenly Father has given me to do, although I suppose over 6,000 miles away from you. This is a very busy campaign. I never was more occupied--perhaps never so much in any undertaking before. Morning, noon, and night I am either writing, dictating, or interviewing, or doing business, or talking, or something else of the same kind.

You will have read in The War Cry of the blessed meetings we are having, what wonderful crowds come to listen, and what favour God has given me with the people generally. It is very wonderful, and my heart is full of gratitude, because I believe it is going to greatly help the Salvation Army in this wonderful country, and in helping the Salvation Army is going to glorify our dear Saviour and advance His Kingdom on earth.

In writing to you, dear Catherine, I write also to Mary and to Miriam, to Bernard and to Olive, to Dora and to Wycliffe, and I hope you are all doing something every day to get ready for helping dear Papa and Mamma in their work and to make useful Officers in this great Army.

I tell the people in my lecture every time that three of the eldest of my twenty-eight grandchildren have begun to preach, and that I intend the remaining twenty-three shall, if I can rule. God bless you both and the dear boys and girls, and help you amidst all the difficulties and trials of life to hold fast to God and Salvation and make you a blessing to thousands and thousands of the redeemed sons and daughters of men.--Believe me, your affectionate GENERAL.

And a few days later he writes from San Francisco a long letter to Bramwell, in which he shows how his heart yearned after backsliders, and how eagerly he sought in the meshes of essential discipline some way of re-entry into the Salvation net for those lost fishes of his life's trawling:

 

The number of ex-Officers who come to my meetings, and sob and lament that they are outside and wanting to come back, is pitiable in the extreme. They are not prepared always to go to the penitent-form in the presence of the Officers with whom they have quarrelled, or the Corps in which they lost their position by their tempers or something else. Perhaps they think they are right--perhaps they know they are wrong, but the penitent-form is not the way for them to come round, and after they have been to the penitent-form they are still speckled birds. There is nothing definite about their position. Now something ought to be done for them. There are hundreds of them all round the world, and as the Consul said the other night--as many of them are as good outside as are in.

Of course, when you look over this country and see the number of real valuable men in leading positions who, at one time or another, have been outside, you cannot help wondering whether there may not be a great many more of the same kind outside still, and when we want men and women so badly we ought to make a way for them to return.

In many cases the taking of men away from the country where their offence has been known, and putting them down in some other country, would be very good.

 

He repeats with much relish a story told by Mr. Seth Low, the Mayor of New York, in introducing the General to a meeting. A certain dignified minister of religion was asked what he thought of the Salvation Army, and the reply was, "Well, to tell you the truth, I don't like it at all; but, to be candid with you, I believe God Almighty does." He used to tell this story to the last days of his life. Another American mayor, who acted as chairman at one of the General's meetings, made the following remarks, containing a characteristic reflection of William Booth, and showing the affectionate admiration in which he was held throughout America:

 

A moment ago, in the ante-room, when I had the honour of being presented to the General, I said to him that in '65, when the Civil War closed, we had only about three thousand people in Chattanooga, but that we have grown since that time as he could well see. He passed his hand over his forehead and replied, "'65--'65, that was when your war ceased, and that was the very year that my war began."

And so it was, that when our battle here--the battle which we have commemorated in so many years--was just ending, the battle which this famous General of peace took up, was just beginning.

And through these years he has fought marvellously. It is said, you know, in a very good Book, "The Lord loveth a cheerful giver." And all the world loves a cheerful giver, and all the world loves a man who, above all things, gives himself. And so it happens that we come out gladly to-night and welcome a man who has given himself for suffering, weeping, struggling, starving humanity: the General of the Salvation Army, an Army which not only saves men from the storms and sorrows of life, but prepares them for the hereafter.

 

To Mr. John Cory, a loyal friend since 1862 and a generous supporter of the Army, William Booth often sent from time to time on these tours of vigorous campaigning an account of his meetings. The following letter was written from America in December of this year:

I had reason to believe that a great change had taken place in public feeling towards the Army and towards the General in particular, and the foolish prejudice, aroused by those who had faltered some six years ago on account of the English origin of the Army, having very altered, but I was not prepared for the welcome which met me. It was not merely the people who came in crowds to the meetings in spite of the most unfavourable weather--it was not the kindly hand that was outstretched to me by the leaders of public opinion that so very much surprised me---but it was the friendliness of the Press, so universally expressed in every form. When I say Press, I mean not so much the religious as the secular portion of it. All this has continued throughout the country. No buildings, that we have been able to secure, have been large enough for the Sunday and evening attendances. In some places the fights outside for admission have been really dangerous, limbs having been fractured and lives having been endangered by the eagerness of the people to get in.

Then the blessed influences that have rested on the meetings, the remarkable conversions that have taken place, and the assurances that have been showered down upon me by Governors of States, Premiers, and other leading dignitaries, together with leaders of Colleges and Ministers of all denominations, have shown what an impetus has been given in a direction to most glorify God and bless mankind.

I have been here now nine weeks, during which time I have conducted ninety-three heavy meetings, travelled some 7,500 miles, seen 1,150 souls at the penitent-form, written articles for the Press, done a large amount of correspondence, transacted a great deal of business, and held almost constant communion with my people.

For all the good that has been done and for the Grace and Strength that has been imparted I praise God. --I give God the glory, I want all my friends to join me in praising Him.

I was no little surprised, as you will readily imagine, to hear of the death of Hugh Price Hughes. How sudden it seems. What a great loss he will be to the Methodist Church, and now I hear that Doctor Parker has gone. What a call for us all to be ready ....

I hope you are keeping well and walking in the light. I am trying to fill up every moment myself and thanking God for the opportunity He gives me.--Believe me as ever, your affectionate GENERAL.

 

Once again "Booth blood" rebels against the inadequate descriptive writing of The War Cry journalist. He writes vigorously to Bramwell from Chicago:

 

I am vexed about the reports in The War Cry. But it's no use expecting what people can't do.

But when you have a cable such as Lawley sent about Toronto, I do think -- might have put my name at the top, and put it in bigger instead of lesser type than the two--penny speeches of the Mayors, Cabinet Ministers, etc., that are on the same page. But for the readers I felt like saying, Send them no more.

It is the type and the position nowadays that ensures a reading . . . I am sure of it. The papers of this country live by their Head-lines.

However, I don't mind .... I am written up enough just now, not a line of which I see. But I am thinking of the effect on Australia and the Continent, Africa and elsewhere where the English Cry comes.

 

From Colorado Springs he writes hopefully to his son of golden prospects:

Everything here seems to be gradually shaping in the direction of a possibility of our creating a great impression on the minds of these American millionaires .... Pierpont Morgan has had an interview with Tucker at his own request. With respect to it we have got some telegrams, but they are of such a nature that we can neither make head nor tail of them.

When I have been in the grave a little while, you will set to work and spend some money and time on a code that can be understood.

Perhaps you will ask "What am I driving at?" I want to say that our great need at the present moment is a more organized method of getting money, that shall radiate from I.H.Q. to the furthermost parts of the Army.

 

And he cries out in another letter:

I am still clinging to the hope, and shall be till I am in my coffin, that I shall come across a millionaire who will help me out of the straitness of the hour.

 

He says of Canada, where he was always extremely happy, that it is "a country with golden summers, almost heavenly autumn, and generous, loyal, loving, and hospitable people."

Something of the character of William Booth's public utterances at this period of his life may be gathered from the following passages from an address which he entitled, "Walking with God."

 

My comrades, you and I can walk as closely, and I may say as everlastingly, with our Maker as did any of the saints who have ever lived .... It means something more than walking with His Word. You may go through the world with the Bible under your arm, and yet finish up in the Bottomless Abyss, spending your eternity in Hell in reading over and over again the words that might have got you to the Heart of Jehovah on earth and to the Home of Jehovah in the Skies.

 

It means something more than walking with God's people. You may walk with holy mothers and fathers and comrades; sing with them; read their Bibles and go to meetings, marches, and open-airs with them; travel with them right away down through life till they come to the dark cold River, and, crossing that River, bid them farewell--never to see them again until, far away, you discern them at the right hand of the Great White Throne, to be parted from them for ever.

It means something more than walking with the forms and ceremonies of religion. Forms and ceremonies there must be; but alas! alas! men and women come to rest in them . . . and rest in them to their doom. If you are to be damned, my friend, you had better walk thither in the livery of the world and the Devil than in that of God Almighty's people. You had better go there in the convict's garb, or a drunkard's rags, or in heathen darkness than attired after the fashion of the children of Jehovah.

It is possible that this may be the last time I shall have an opportunity of speaking to you of the future, and of Heaven, and Hell, and Calvary. And the last time probably a number of you who are here will listen to such words from the lips of any human being. I am going to preach the funeral sermon of some men and women who are here to-night. I demand, demand that you stop and look at your Lord bleeding upon the cross for your salvation.

 

If one bears in mind his appearance: the tall, attenuated figure, the intensely pale face with its flashing eyes, tousled hair, and flowing beard--if one recalls, too, the passionate gestures and the harsh, far-carrying voice--one may understand something of the power of such utterances, something of the spell he cast upon eager, anxious, desperate, and in many cases self-accusing, souls.

The honesty of the man rang out clear and authentic in every rough, unpolished sentence that sprang to his lips, and it was for all who heard him the honesty of deep affection, boundless compassion, and infinite yearning, whatever may have been their views concerning his theology. Nor was this honesty a trick of the platform. It is the man. It is manifest in his letters and diaries; everybody who encountered him was made aware of it in one form or another. He never met man or woman of whatever degree but he longed to give them the happiness of conscious salvation. One of his Commissioners tells a story which illustrates how this yearning after the souls of men manifested itself not only "in the great congregations," but also in the most casual conversations with individuals. The Commissioner related this story at a meeting, addressing himself to the General:

I shall never forget one instance that came under my observation which goes to show that you are on this business of saving souls not only in the great congregations, but also with single individuals. Whilst going down the streets of one of the cities of Australia riding with the then foremost Minister of the Crown in that State, he was telling you of some individual who numbered among his possessions so many thousands of cattle and so many hundreds of thousands of sheep, and I remember, sir, you looking straight at him and saying to him, "It takes a good many sheep to satisfy a soul." And he dropped his head and said, "Yes, a good many sheep to satisfy a soul."

The older he grew and the more deep became his knowledge of mankind, the more did this sorrowful man yearn to convert humanity from the folly of a transitory world to the eternal satisfaction of the world to come. And at this time the idea flamed in his soul of converting not hundreds here and thousands there, but all the world.

 

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