3. But Social Work, as a separate entity, or department of the Kingdom of Jesus Christ, recognised, organised, and provided for, had to wait for The Salvation Army.

For many years after the commencement of my public work, during which time I had, as opportunity served, helped the poor in their distress, I was deterred from launching out to any great extent in this direction by the fear so commonly entertained that by relieving their physical necessities I should be helping to create, or at any rate to encourage, religious hypocrisy and pretence.

All this time, nevertheless, I felt, and often keenly felt, that there surely must be some way by which, without any evil consequences, I could legitimately fulfil the cravings of my own heart, as well as comply with the commands of my Lord, who had expressly told me that I was to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit the prisoners. For a long time, however, I failed to see how this work could be done in any organised or extensive manner.

Gradually, however, the way opened, and opened largely, as a result of our determination to make the godless crowds hear the message of Salvation.

I said, "They shall hear; we will make them hear; and if they won't hear in any other way, we will feed them, and accompany the food we give them with the message to which they so determinedly turn a deaf ear." In the very earliest days of The Army, therefore, in order to reach the people whom we could not reach by any other means, we gave the hungry wretches a meal, and then talked to them about God and eternity.

4. Then came the gradual unfolding of our Social methods, which have been so remarkably successful.

My dear wife's heart had been particularly drawn out on behalf of the fallen outcasts of society, who, often more sinned against than sinning, appealed peculiarly to her large and tender sympathies. More than once she found opportunity for extending help to individual cases of misfortune, obtaining homes amongst her friends for some of the children, and assisting the poor mothers to win their way back to virtue.

But it was not until the end of 1883, or thereabouts, that anything like a systematic effort in this direction was organised on their behalf. Touched by the helpless and pitiable condition of some poor girls who had sought Salvation at the Corps at which, with her husband, she fought as a Soldier, a baker's wife, living in one of the most wretched streets in Spitalfields, took the girls, in distress and trouble, into her own home. Before long it was crowded to its utmost capacity, and still other women were clamouring for admission. She implored us to help her, and we engaged and opened a house as our first Rescue Home, placing it under the direction of Mrs. Bramwell Booth.

The breaking forth of the same spirit in different directions in other lands quickly followed.

At about this time our first Prison Rescue Brigade, in the Colony of Victoria, was organised by the late Colonel Barker. So striking was the success attending his effort that, before many months had passed by, magistrates in the city of Melbourne were actually giving delinquents the option of being sent to prison or to our Prison-Gate Home, and the Government placed the former Detective Police Building at our disposal, at a nominal rental.

Not only does the genuine Christian spirit carry the soul out in sympathy with misery, but it often leads it to prefer certain particular classes of sufferers or wrongdoers, on whom to lavish its self-sacrificing love, and restlessly spend itself in efforts for their benefit. In the case of one Salvationist, it will be the dying; in another the daughters of sin and shame; in another the homeless; in another the children, and in yet another the drunkards.

With Colonel Barker, as with other comrades under our Flag to-day, it was the criminals.

This spirit thrives and becomes more effective by what it feeds upon. It must, therefore, be wise to favour its preferences, so far as it is possible to do so without losing sight of the well-being of the whole.

We did this with Colonel Barker, and we are acting on the same principle with others to-day.

Then came our first Women's Rescue Home in Melbourne, to help us in the establishment of which the Colonial Government gave L1,000.

It was upon foundations of this character that our Social Operations in New Zealand, France, South Africa, and several other countries were subsequently built up.

For years past our Officers, men and women, both in the United Kingdom and elsewhere, had carried on what may be spoken of as an unorganised form of Slum Work; but it fell to the hands of my glorified daughter, the Consul, to institute, in London, what was then and for some time afterwards known as "the Cellar, Gutter, and Garret Brigade"—the forerunner of scores of Slum Posts, which are now such a recognised feature of our operations all over the world.

Our first Men's Shelter was opened in Limehouse, London, during the winter of 1887-8, and was soon followed by the opening of similar Institutions in other countries, far-off and near at hand.

From our earliest days drunkenness had been one of the many foes of God and man against which we had specially taken our stand, and thousands of its slaves had been rescued from its grip, and become valiant Soldiers in our ranks. Our first Inebriates' Home, conducted in the interest of women, was not, however, opened until 1887. This was in Toronto, Canada.

The Social Work in the United States had its birth in 1885, in an effort made on behalf of prisoners at Hartford, Connecticut. Similar efforts followed in other cities, and Rescue and Industrial Homes, Shelters, and Farm Colonies followed on in due course.

All these enterprises and many others, to which I have not time now to refer, were prior to the publication of "In Darkest England and the Way Out," and had, no doubt, a powerful influence in inspiring that volume.

Since then one branch or other of Social Work has been commenced in every country in which our Flag is flying.

Notwithstanding the satisfaction produced by these and kindred efforts in my own mind, and in the minds of those immediately associated with me, and although the results were truly remarkable, and the possibilities seemed to be still more wonderful, the beginnings of these Social enterprises attracted comparatively little notice.

The New Movement—for thus I may describe it—which, with half an eye, thoughtful men might have seen to be pregnant with blessings for the whole world, was almost unnoticed by either the Authorities or the Press; while our supplies of men and money for its conduct and extension were very limited.

Suddenly, however, the scene was changed, and, all at once, everybody was asking, "What is The Salvation Army?" "Who is General Booth?" and "What is this Social Scheme?"

This change was largely brought about by the publication of "In Darkest England and the Way Out," together with the notices of the Scheme in the Press which it brought about.

Judged by the effect produced, the book was certainly a remarkable one. In the first place it had a title which, in a striking manner described its character. Everybody wanted to see it, and, as a result, it was sold, lent, read, thought about, and talked about in every direction. Nearly a quarter of a million copies were sold. The profits from the publication and sale amounted to about L20,000, of which sum I had the privilege of handing over L5,380—which might have been considered rightfully to accrue to me personally as the Author—to the fund devoted to the promotion of the object for which the book was published.

In its pages I propounded those Schemes which I thought would prove most successful in alleviating the terrible misery I had described, and in rescuing some, at least, of the sufferers from the conduct that produced it.

In order to set the Scheme in motion, I asked the public to give me L100,000, and a further L30,000 per annum to maintain it.

I can never forget the morning that directly followed the appearance of the volume. I was, of course, in ignorance of what the nation would think or say about it.

I had made plans for the book to be delivered to the newspapers at one and the same time, and, regarding the Press as being to some extent the voice of the people, I was anxious to hear what that voice would say.

I was not kept long in suspense. As I ascended the stairs at Headquarters that morning, a gentleman with a countenance beaming with kindness and anxiety met me. I do not think he had ever seen me before, and I was certainly in complete ignorance of him.

"General Booth, I believe?" he said.

"Yes, sir," I answered.

"I have been reading the critique in The Times of your Darkest England Scheme," he said, "and, believing your plan to be right and good, I want to be the first to express my sympathy and practical assistance in carrying it out, and I wish to give you the first L1,000 towards the sum asked for."

This gentleman proved himself a firm friend of the Scheme, actively co-operating with us so far as he had opportunity.

A short time afterwards our friend was present at the opening of our first London Ex-Prisoners' Home. When I had finished speaking he expressed a wish to say a few words. I invited him forward for that purpose. He came, hurried and excited, began to speak, staggered, reeled, fell into my arms and immediately expired. It may be truly said that he died calling down blessings on the Darkest England Scheme.

After meeting this gentleman on the stairs, I had scarcely sat down at my desk, with his cheque in my hand, before a telegram was handed me, from one of the most influential newspaper proprietors in the city, expressing a similar hope, and promising a similar amount for its realisation.

But along with these cheering expressions of approbation there came the invariable murmuring objections. One of these strove to minimise the value of the effort, by arguing that it was only an attempt to extend The Army's religious influence. People said they would be willing to help if all religious and propagandist motives were eliminated from the Scheme.

One night a gentleman was announced as wishing to see me. He declined to give his name, and the only description of him I could gain was that he was a prominent member of the Stock Exchange.

"I want to ask you one question—only one," he said, upon entering my office, "about this Social Scheme of yours."

"All right," I replied, "as many as you like."

"Well," he continued, "I want to know whether you are going to give religion alongside your other benefits to these people whom you seek to help? I am not a religious man myself. I am not saved, and never shall be—I am a lost soul; but there is no reason why these poor wretches should not have religion; and if you will give them religion, I will help you."

"Yes," I answered, "we will give them religion. While we won't refuse to help them because they are irreligious—but, on the contrary, will take in the vilest and the worst—we will give them all as much religion as we can."

"I will help you," he answered, as he handed me Bank of England notes for L500.

He came to see us again and again, proving for the time being a generous friend. Then he disappeared.

In a very short time, and in the readiest and most kindly manner, L104,000 were subscribed. But, alas! only a very small proportion of the L30,000 that was asked for annually was forthcoming.

In this, as in many other similar cases, I have found that whilst the public will be ready—nay, eager—to embrace a new thing, they soon get tired of it, run after some other novelty, and leave you largely to struggle for its continuance, as best you can.

5. It is enough here to state that the results at the onset were remarkable. Amongst others four, which might have been expected, were immediately realised:—

(a) The first was the bringing into public view the ocean of tears, misery, and evil which was rolling around us in every direction.

(b) Another result was that people everywhere were awakened from their selfish lethargy, to look upon these waters of tribulation, and were amazed to find the depth, the darkness, and the despair with which they rolled forward, as well as the damnation to which they invariably led.

(c) A further effect was that a large number of people were won over to care for the class whom it was proposed to benefit, and to believe in the possibility of the Scheme being realised. Many of these proved permanent friends of our Social Operations.

(d) Yet another effect was that the fountains of compassion broke out in the hearts of large numbers of individuals, and led them to make similar efforts. Everywhere the call was sounded to labour for these poor lost people, and instances were adduced which showed that their humble toil was productive of very striking results.

But until now nothing, or next to nothing, had been done to stop this rolling river, or deliver those perishing in its waters, because everybody had felt helpless in the presence of the enormous evil.

But here, now, were results of sufficient magnitude to convince those who became interested in the matter that, by the employment of the methods set forth in "In Darkest England and the Way Out," something permanently effective might be accomplished.

On the other hand, others, as might have been expected, who had never manifested any particular interest before, either for or against, now came out openly as our enemies, and a stiff fight followed, out of which the Social Operations, although in their infancy, may be said to have emerged victorious.

One of the results of this conflict of opinion was the "Darkest England" Inquiry.

The preparation of "In Darkest England" will for ever remain remarkable in my own memory, as it was mostly written and corrected in the adjoining chamber to that in which my dear wife was suffering those awful agonies associated with the disease which finally carried her away.

The spirit which originated and controlled the Social Work had been, pre-eminently, the spirit of her religion. She certainly was the most practical exponent of the Christianity of which I have been speaking that it was ever my lot to meet. It was her religion; she preached it with natural eloquence and remarkable skill; and, in life and death, she exemplified it.

From that day to this the history of the Social Work has been one of steady progress and of surpassing interest, and I have sometimes wondered whether any movement, based so solidly upon principles of permanence, and so calculated to bless the classes for whose benefit it was, by the Providence of God, called into being, has ever existed within the memory of men.

Now what has come out of this beginning?

1. Here is a list of the various Social enterprises we have in hand. I do not vouch for its completeness; but, anyway, we have here a goodly number of schemes for the benefit of the poor and friendless already in active and useful operation:—

(a) For the Starving, we have— i. Children's Free and Farthing Breakfasts. ii. Midnight Soup and Bread Brigades for the Homeless. iii. Cheap Food Depots. iv. Special Relief Funds for cases of Special Destitution. v. Old Clothes' Depots for Slum Families. vi. Poor Men's Hotels, vii. Cheap Grain Stores. viii. Famine Loan Fund for Destitute Indians.

(b) For the Drunkards, we have— i. Drunkards' Brigades. ii. Midnight Drunkards' Brigades (of use also in any sudden emergency—Fire, Flood, etc.). iii. Drunkards' Advice Bureaux. iv. Homes for Inebriates—Men and Women.

(c) For the Paupers, we have— i. Workhouse Brigades. ii. Salvation Guardians of the Poor. iii. Pauper Colonies. iv. Pauper Transportation. v. Labour Bureaux, vi. Homes for the Aged.

(d) For the Unemployed, we have— i. Labour Bureaux—Men and Women, ii. Industrial Homes. iii. Labour Wood Yards. iv. City Salvage Brigades. v. Workshops.

(e) For the Homeless, we have— i. Midnight Scouts. ii. Shelters for Men and Women. iii. Metropoles.

(f) For the Criminals, we have— i. Prison Visitation. ii. Police-court Work. iii. Prison-Gate Work. iv. Probationary Police. v. Correspondence Bureaux. vi. Ex-Criminals' Homes. vii. Criminal Settlements

(g) For the Daughters of Shame, we have— i. Visitation of Streets, Brothels, Yoshiwaras, Clubs, etc. ii. Midnight Meetings. iii. Receiving Homes. iv. Rescue Homes. v. Factories, Laundries, etc. vi. "Out of Love" Funds. vii. Service Girls' Brigades. viii. Shepherding Brigades. ix. Maternity Homes. x. Investigation and Detective Department.

(h) Slum Work. We have— i. Visitation. ii. First-Aid Brigades. iii. District Nursing. iv. "Poorest of the Poor" Aid.

(i) For the Sick, we have— i. Visitation. ii. Hospitals. iii. Dispensaries. iv. Village Dispensing, v. Leper Hospitals, vi. Maternity Nursing.

(j) For the Lost, we have— i. Inquiry and Correspondence Bureaux. ii. Legal Assistance.

(k) Prevention and Protective Work for Young Girls. We have— i. Servants' Homes. ii. City Institutes. iii. Theatrical Girls' Home. iv. Registries. v. Students' Homes.

(l) Anti-Suicide Bureaux. We have— i. Advice Department. ii. Loan Department.

(m) The Home League.

(n) Land Schemes. We have—

i. Emigration. ii. Home Colonisation. iii. Colonisation over the Sea. iv. Lands and Farm Colonies. v. Small Holdings.

(o) Deep Sea Brigades. We have—

i. Mission Boats. ii. Life-boat.

(p) Training Colleges.

(q) Students' Homes.

(r) Working-Men's Association.

(s) Village Banks.

The total number of our Social Institutions is now 954.

The value of properties, etc., held for the use of our Social Operations is:—

At Home (U.K.) L228,000 In other Countries 747,000

Total L975,000

2. In the history of the Social Work, nevertheless, there have been, as you will know, any number of shortcomings. We have not realised all our expectations, nor fulfilled all our dreams. It was not to be expected that we should. This is an imperfect world; the Movement has been imperfect, and the people who have carried it on have been imperfect also. Consequently, it is only natural that we have had imperfect results.

(a) Many things have been calculated to cause these shortcomings. For example:—

i. There has been a great lack of direct aim at the true goal of our Social Work on the part of some Officers who have been engaged in its direction.

Some of our comrades have been content with a "soup-and-blanket" regime. That is to say, they have too often been satisfied with the alleviation of the miseries of the hour, and have stopped short of the removal of the evils that have caused the poverty, vice, and agony from which the sufferings sprang.

Consequently, the work, being superficial, has in some cases only had superficial and temporary results.

You get out of a thing as much as you put in—and no more, and that, not only in quantity, but in quality. If you go in for root-and-branch efforts, you will get root-and-branch results.

ii. Another cause of our shortcomings has been the lamentable fact that some of our Officers have been deficient in personal religion.

Our Social Work is essentially a religious business. It can neither be contemplated, commenced, nor carried on, with any great success, without a heart full of pity, and love, and endued with the power of the Holy Ghost.

iii. Another of our difficulties has been the scarcity of suitable people for carrying the work on. This was also to be expected.

If we had been content with hirelings, and had sought them out from among the philanthropies and Churches, we should have found plenty in number, but it is equally certain we should have had considerably more doleful failures than those we have experienced.

We are not only making but are now training the Social Officers, and we shall doubtless improve in this respect, whilst the work they turn out will be bound to improve proportionately.

iv. Then again a further reason for our shortcomings has been our shortness of money.

This need unfortunately is not passing away, as you will all well know. But I suppose some of you have come from distant lands with bags of francs and dollars to present The General with an ample supply of this requirement. He thanks you beforehand.

(b) Nevertheless, and notwithstanding all our shortcomings, the position now occupied by our Social Operations, and the influence exercised by them on the great and small of the earth, is in evidence in every Continent and on every hand.

There is no doubt that the world, as a whole, feels much of the admiration and gratitude which the Press lavished upon me on my recent Birthday—admiration which was assuredly intended not only for myself, but for The Army as a whole, and not only for The Army as a whole, but for its Social Workers in particular.

1. And now, in conclusion, let me summarise a few of the advantages which have flowed out of the Social Work, and which will continue to flow out of it as long as time rolls on.

(a) The first benefit I will mention is the Salvation of thousands of souls.

(b) The world has been further benefited by the knowledge of Salvation spread throughout every part of the habitable globe.

(c) The world has been further benefited by the Conviction that has been brought to governmental, philanthropic, and religious agencies, as to the duty they owe to the classes we seek to benefit.

(d) The world has been further benefited by the sympathy created in the hearts of royal personages, scientists, literary people, and the Press generally; indeed, in every class and grade of mankind.

(e) The world has been further benefited by the removal of misery on such an extensive scale as had never even been dreamed of as possible.

Think of the multitudes who, by our operations, are daily saved from starvation, vice, crime, disease, death, and a hundred other nameless woes.

In some of the principal cities in Italy, Holland, Germany, and elsewhere, visited during my recent Continental Campaign, I have been looked upon with unspeakable satisfaction and enthusiasm as The General of the Poor, and The Salvation Army has been regarded as their friend.

(f) The world has been further benefited by the help which our Social Operations have afforded to the Field and other Departments of The Army all over the world.

(g) The world has been further benefited by the confidence the Social Work has created in the hearts and minds of our own people—both Officers and Soldiers—as to the truth and righteousness of the principles and practices of The Salvation Army.

(h) The world has been further benefited by the answer which the Social Work constitutes to the infidel's sneers at Christianity and the assertion of its effeteness.

Truly, our future chroniclers will have to record the fact that our Social Operations added a celestial lustre and imparted a Divine dignity to the struggles of the early years of The Salvation Army's history.

To our own eyes in The Army, however, that which has been done in connexion with the Institutions is only a very insignificant part of the whole effect produced. Until the present movement all over the world in favour of the betterment of the social condition of the masses of the people has had time to accomplish definite results, our Institutions may yet have a good work to do.

But the great work The General did in this connexion was the restoration to men's minds of the Saviour's own view, that we owed to every man every care that a truly brotherly heart must needs bestow. That principle, as The General pointed out, had always been acted upon, as best it could be, from the beginning, and is daily acted upon to-day, wherever The Army exists.



Chapter XXI

Motoring Triumphs



During one of his Motor Tours The General remarked:—

"It was here (Banbury) that the idea of a Motor Campaign was conceived. Seven or eight years ago (1900) I held an afternoon Meeting in this place. On that occasion a crowd of my own people and friends came to the station to give me a send-off. Such was the affection shown, and so manifest was the pleasure derived from my visit, that I said to myself:—

"'Why should I not impart this satisfaction to those comrades and friends throughout the country who have never had the satisfaction of seeing my face, or hearing my voice?'

"And then the idea occurred to my mind that the automobile would not only be the readiest means of transit, but the only plan by which I could reach the small towns and outlying hamlets. Moreover, it would perhaps prove the only method by which we could get through the crowds who would be likely to assemble on such a Campaign."

By most men, in their prime, it would be thought an ample filling up of any week to address three large Meetings on the Sunday, and one each week night; but The General, at seventy-four, saw that, travelling by motor, and visiting in the daytime such smaller towns and villages as had never seen him before, or not for many years, he could not only reckon upon three large indoor Meetings every day, but speak, perhaps, to millions of people he had never before addressed. And so in six Motor Tours he passed from end to end and from side to side of Great Britain, gathering crowds from day to day for six weeks at a time.

We have met with people frivolous enough to write of all that as if The General's Motor Tours were luxuries! In one glorious sense they were really so, for, to him, there could never be a greater luxury than to proclaim the Gospel to a crowd. But, as a matter of fact, he found it less expensive to travel in this way than to go as he ordinarily did for a long journey to and from London by train to reach each town separately.

And the economy of Army forces, by means of Motor Tours, has been marvellous, every little Corps and village Outpost on the route on week-days being given an opportunity to gather crowds they never ordinarily reached together, and to unite their own efforts for once with those of their General in trying to lift up Christ more than ever before.

And The General was so alive to the value of inflaming the love of any handful of villagers or children, but especially of his Soldiers and Officers to the Master, that it was to him a continual delight to move about amongst his Soldiery in every land.

The General could rarely venture to plan very far ahead, because his public appearances had all to be made to fit in with other and often even more important engagements, of which only his Staff knew anything. It is, indeed, marvellous how few engagements he made ever had to be broken, and how successful almost every Campaign of his has been, seeing at how short notice most of them were undertaken. In one of his diaries I found a bitter complaint of the waste of time involved in having to wait for three hours between the steamboat and train. "Why," he asks, "could they not have arranged a Meeting for me?"

One who has travelled 8,000 miles with him on four Motor Tours says, though everybody, everywhere, pressmen included, were of necessity impressed with his sincerity and transparency, they could see that he had all the time only one object in view, the glory of God and the Salvation of souls.

And it is the extent to which he led all ranks into the same spirit which made it easy for arrangements to be made and carried out in so few hours for the very largest demonstrations, as to which it was never possible to hold any approach to a rehearsal, those joining in them living usually so widely apart from each other.

An occasional private letter gives, perhaps, the best possible explanation of his own heart in this perpetual motion towards the Cross. Who that saw him in some grand demonstration could imagine that he had been feeling just before it as this letter reveals:—

"My feelings alternate; but my faith is steadfast. Morning, noon, and night I tell God He is my only help. He will not fail me. To-night's Meeting will be, as you say, a great strain; but the memories of God's goodness encourage me to go forward in spite of unutterable sadness and gloom."

And who that heard him on one of those Congresses, in which a great company of his Officers and Soldiers felt themselves to be feasting on heavenly manna for days together, could imagine his writing the week after:—

"If ever I felt my full agreement with my Lord's definition of service as expressed in the parable, I do to-day. After all, I am a poor, unprofitable servant, and I have lost no little sleep since Friday night in criticising regretfully and condemning my share of the wonderful Congress that has certainly taken a large part of the world by storm. Nevertheless, I thank God from the bottom of my heart for the part I have been allowed to have in the matter."

Amongst the incidents of all touring, but especially of motoring, are storms such as the one The General thus triumphed over:—

"We are still rushing on. I had five Meetings yesterday, Friday, and an hour's ride through the most blinding storm I ever encountered. Two of our cars broke down, gave up, and retreated to the nearest town for the night; another got through in a damaged condition, and three with difficulty arrived at our destination. However, we who did get in, were rewarded with a big audience and a big reception. It was very wonderful. I am now reckoning on the closing Meeting which takes place on Wednesday afternoon.

"Everybody continues to bless me and speak well of me. Is it not a little surprising, and, viewed from the Master's Standpoint, a little dangerous? You must keep on praying that my faith fail not. Abundance of trying things await me. I must wait for my rest 'until the Morning.' God bless you!"

Well may a man sometimes long for rest who has experiences like the following:—

"I nearly killed myself on Saturday and Sunday at Birmingham. For some cause or other both throat and head got wrong, and it was with difficulty I could frame my sentences or pronounce my words, and yet I had to meet the great opportunity that was presented. I am paying the price to-day in weariness extreme. There is hardly a bone in my body that does not ache, or a nerve that does not seem overstrung.

"But I shall rally and be myself again; indeed, I must, for things of vast importance have to be attended to before the day is out. Our exchequer is empty, and I have to prepare for my autumn Campaign in Holland, Germany, Italy, etc."

"A mile or two after Penzance, the chauffeur turned to General Booth, and 'Now she's waking up!' he said, with a satisfied sigh, as the great car began to hurry through the open lanes.

"The General nodded his head meditatively. 'Yes,' he said, in his beard, 'people have to wake up before they begin to move. England wants waking up; I'm trying to wake her up myself, just a little, and then we shall move.'

"I asked him what he made of our national apathy.

"He shook his head. 'I don't know how it is," he said, 'but people are somehow afraid to examine themselves, afraid to see facts as facts. There is a spirit in England which is worse than opposition to religion; it's a spirit of—of—of detachment, of separation, a spirit which says, "I don't want you, I can do without you; and so long as you leave me alone I shan't interfere with you." It's a kind of slackness. They want waking up. They want rousing. They want a good shaking. It seems as if they have fallen into a deep slumber—opium-eaters!'

"He is setting out to rouse England once again, make one great final effort for the future of humanity. The future of humanity, he believes, can only be secured by 'conversion.'

"Look at him in his car! There he sits, with a light-coloured overcoat buttoned round his neck, a grey forage cap pressed over his ears, his hands in his pockets, his eyes looking straight ahead, and his lips biting at his beard—an old, old man in the newest of motor-cars.

"Through lanes where Wesley rode his horse, poring over a book as he went, General Booth flies in his beflagged car—on the same errand. These two men, so dissimilar in nature, so opposed in temperament, and separated by nearly two hundred years, the one on horseback, the other in a motor-car, sought and are seeking the same elusive end—the betterment of humanity.

"One feels as one rides along our country roads with General Booth the enormous force of simple Christianity in this work of evolution. One sees why Wesley succeeded, and why The Salvation Army is succeeding.

"'We make too much of sin,' says evolution. 'We don't make half enough of sin!' cries The General. Politicians and men of science seem like scene-shifters in the drama of life, and religion stands out clear and distinct as the only actor.

"'People have taken to The Salvation Army because it's so kind to poor people,' General Booth tells me; 'they know I love the poor, they know I weep bitterly for all the hunger and nakedness and sorrow in the world. People know I'm sincere. That's it! They know The Salvation Army is sincere, that it's doing kind actions, and helping those whom nobody else will help or can help. That's what makes us popular. Sympathy.'

"But the secret of The General is not humaneness. His secret is the reality with which he invests sin. Hear him talk about sin, and you realise the man's spell.

"At one moment he is full of humour and robust talk, a genial, merry, shrewd-eyed old gentleman; at the next—at the mention of real sin—his brows contract, his eyes flash, and his tongue hisses out such hatred and contempt and detestation as no sybarite could find on the tip of his tongue for anything superlatively coarse or ill-flavoured.

"'Sin!' he cries to me. 'Sin is a real thing—a damnable thing! I don't care what science calls it, or what some of the pulpits are calling it. I know what it is. Sin is devilish. It is sin and only sin which is stopping progress. It is sin and only sin which prevents the world from being happy. Sin! Go into the slums of the great cities—pick up little girls of six years of age sold into infamy by their parents; look at the drunken mother murdering her child, the father strapping his cripple son—sin!—that's what I call sin; something beastly and filthy and devilish and nasty—nasty, dreadfully nasty.'

"As you listen and as you realise that The Salvation Army contains numberless men changed in the twinkling of an eye from lives of such sin as this to lives of beneficent activity, you begin to feel that General Booth, right or wrong, has at least hit upon one of the most effective ways for helping evolution.

"He makes sin as real to the individual as only the mystics can imagine for themselves. Perhaps humanity likes to be told how black it is, how far it is from the perfectness after which Nature is blundering and staggering. I know not; but it is manifest that when this grim old man, with the ivory face, the black, flashing eyes, the tangle of white hair and the tangle of beard, leans over the rostrum and calls sin 'beastly' and 'devilish' and 'nasty' the people sit as white and spellbound as the patient of the hypnotist.

"It is a different General Booth whom the villagers flock to see as he drives, smiling and genial, through Cornish villages, whom the band plays into towns, and whom mayors and councillors receive with honour. But the reason of this honour and this popularity is the fact that he is a force, a living, breathing power who has made sin real to the world and has awakened the religious consciousness in thousands of human beings."

William Booth was always very wide awake to the discouraging emptiness of mere demonstrations, and never expressed himself more contemptuously with regard to them than when he thought that any of his Officers, in the midst of some grand display, which was attracting unusual attention, seemed to be likely to be satisfied with the show of what had been done, instead of pressing forward to greater things.

Yet he saw that, in presence of the continual and enthralling exhibitions of the world, there was absolute need for such manifestations of united force as might encourage every little handful, usually toiling out of sight, and convince the world that we were determined fully to overcome all its attractions.

There had been before his time large demonstrations in favour of teetotalism, and in some parts of the country the Sunday Schools were accustomed annually to make displays of more or less fashionably-dressed children and teachers. But The General was alone in his own country and time in organising any such public demonstrations in honour of Christ, and of total abstinence from sin and from worldly-mindedness.

How perfectly The General could always distinguish between the enjoyment of demonstration and of real fighting, was strikingly manifested on one of our great Crystal Palace days. Looking down from the balcony upon the vast display, when some 50,000 Salvationists were taking part in various celebrations, he noticed a comparatively small ring of our converted military and naval men kneeling together on the grass, evidently within hearing of one of the band-stands upon which one Band after another was playing, according to programme.

"Go and stop that Band," said he to one of his A.D.C.'s. "We must not have those praying men hindered in their fight for souls by the music."

And this was only one example of his frequent abandonment of any programme, or practice, or arrangement which seemed to him only to have demonstrative effect, when any more enduring benefit could be otherwise secured.

In short, demonstration in his eyes was only valued at its military worth, and he never wished any one to become so occupied with appearance as to miss enduring victory.

The following description, by a writer in a big London daily, of one of The General's tours might be fairly accepted as a sample of them all, and as giving some idea of the way in which they manifested his care for all that concerned men:—

"'An easy day' was The General's description of that on which we fared to mediaeval Godalming, through the beautiful Hindhead region to Petersfield, and thence in the evening to antiquity and Winchester. He meant that he had only to address three great gatherings (the day's course admitted of scarcely any of the customary wayside and hamlet musters), so his oratory would be merely a matter of five hours or thereabouts. There were solid fact in The General's airy designation; it was an easier day than most of those of the tour; but it had sundry distinctions of its own, apart from the great, welcoming Meetings.

"It was curious and pleasant to see gipsies salute The General from their wayside Bohemia on the road to Hindhead; it was delightful to see The General himself as he descended and spoke to the church school-children who hailed him by the wayside at Roke, in one of the most charming wayside spots on the journey. They stood with their teachers under the trees in the sunshine, little pictures of bloom and happiness. 'Now wouldn't you like to be running round the country on a motor?' he asked them straight away, and their answer come with hearty directness. In a naive and tender little speech, that had a touch of airiness, he told them of the joy of motoring, turning anon to the many glad and beautiful things within the reach of little people who yet might not go a-motoring, and so in simple little touches appealing to the joy of life and soul that the child-sense could understand.

"'Isn't he like Father Christmas?' a little girl was heard to whisper. Here he charmed those in the morning of life; away at Petersfield in the afternoon the sight of him consoled some in life's evening. One poor old lady, who had lost the use of both limbs, was carried to her door and set in a bath-chair, and there she remained till The General had passed. We noticed the light on her face, and how vehemently she waved her handkerchief. An Army Officer chatted with her before we left the town in the evening. 'I can now die happy,' she said; 'I have seen The General. And when the call comes I know that God will send down the hallelujah motor for me, and the loss of my old limbs won't matter in the least.'

"I have mentioned 'an easy day.' Having now described in a broad way the typical early stages, it may be well, in a somewhat more intimate and personal way, to give an idea of the work, moods, and trend of the average day of the whole tour. The stress and excitement it meant in the long stretch of country from the first town to the last were extraordinary. We mustered, as a rule, at nine in the morning for the day's work and travel, most of the folk of the town where the night had been spent turning out for the send-off.

"The General was on the scene almost invariably to the minute. Nearly always at those starts he looked grave, resigned, and calm, but unexpectedly careworn. It was as if he had wrestled with all his problems, with a hundred world-issues in the watches of the night, and was still in the throes of them, and unable for the moment to concentrate his attention on the immediate town and crowd that hurrah'd around him. But, of course, he stood up and acknowledged the plaudits—though often as one in a dream. But the picturesqueness of his appearance in the morning sunshine—with his white hair, grave face, and green motor garb—took the imagination of the mass, and without a word from him the people were left happy.

"He looked a new personality at the first important stopping-place, reached usually about an hour before noon. His air and mood when he stepped to the platform for the public Meeting had undergone a radiant change; all the more radiant, we noticed, if the children who had hailed him from the waysides had been many and strenuous. There was something of the child in his own face as he stepped to the platform's edge, and replied to the enthusiasm of the house by clapping his own hands to the people. There was always something naive and delightful in The General's preliminary task of applauding the audience.

"Here came his first important address of the day, lasting an hour and a half, or even longer. It had many 'notes,' and displayed The General in many moods. He was apt to be facetious and drily humorous at first. He had racy stories to tell—and none can tell a story for the hundredth time with fresh zest than he—in illustration of the old and bitter prejudices against The Army. A typical one was that of an old woman, arrested for the hundredth time for being drunk and disorderly, who was given the option of going to prison or being passed over to The Salvation Army. Too drunk to realise what she did, she decided for the latter. She was kindly tended, set in a clean cosy bed, and watched over by a sister till the morning. When she woke the sunlight streamed through the window, and the happy, unaccustomed surroundings surprised her. 'Where am I?' she exclaimed in bewilderment. 'You are with The Salvation Army,' said the sister kindly and softly. 'Oh, goodness gracious,' roared the old woman, 'take me away, or I'll lose my reputation!'

"Often in these long and comprehensive addresses The General told how he found the work of his life. He was never so impressive as at this stage. And the tale in its intensity was ever new. His language was nervous, intense, almost Biblical, his figure suggestive of a patriarch's in a tragedy. 'Sixty years ago—sixty years ago—sixty years ago,' each time with a different and a grimmer intonation—'the Spirit of the Living God met me.... I was going down the steep incline when the great God stopped me, and made me think.'

"In the last stage of his address he was the coloniser, the statesman, the social wizard who would recast character and rearrange humanity. He gave an epic sense to the story of emigration and colonisation. But he was invariably clear and lucid in his detail, so that the immediate and practical meaning of it all was never lost on the mayors, and corporation and council worthies, who heard him. Then miles and miles away at the second important stopping-place in the early afternoon, after incidental wayside speeches and idylls, he went over the same ground in a further address of an hour or more. Somehow in the afternoon he appeared to speak with added individuality and passion, as if the wants and woes of the world had been growing upon him since the morning.

"A needed rest, perhaps a little sleep, then away once more by the waysides and through the welcoming hamlets. The third and last great stopping-stage was reached, as a rule, about eight o'clock. He typified serene old age as he stood up in the white car, passing the long lines of cheering humanity. Here in the evening light it was not easy to regard him as a propagandist. He might be a study for Father Christmas, or a philosopher who dealt much in abstractions and knew little of men. The General who, twenty minutes later, proclaimed his spiritual truths and his social ideals to a new audience, seemed, once more, an absolutely different personality. Often at these evening meetings he spoke for the better part of two hours."



Chapter XXII

Our Financial System



The continued strain to raise the money needed for the work was, undoubtedly, to William Booth the greatest part of his burden all the way through life. And it is to this day the puzzle which makes it most difficult to write as to The Army's finances. On the one hand, we have to praise God for having helped him so cheerily to shoulder his cross that he did not seem many times to feel the burden that was almost crushing him to the ground, and hindering all sorts of projects he would gladly have carried out. Yet, on the other hand, we must guard against saying anything that could lead to the impression that The Army has now got to the top of its hill of difficulty, and needs no more of the help, in small sums as well as in big ones, that has been so generously sent to it.

It would be hopeless to attempt to estimate the numbers of appeals The General sent out in any one year, for he not only tried at fixed periods to get for his various funds truly interested subscribers, but was always seeking to link the hearty giver with the deserving receivers.

But perhaps the very extremity of his one need helped him with the most practical wisdom to avoid all unnecessary expenditure, and to cultivate all those habits of economy and systematic effort which alone made it possible to keep up so vast a work mainly by the gifts of the poor. To this very day it is the same old struggle to get each L5 that is wanted together. Yet all of it is precious to us because it so guarantees exemption from indifference, and the pervasion of all our ranks everywhere with the principles of self-help which The General always so inculcated as to make The Army everywhere independent of the wealthy, yet their trusted and skilful almoners.

Rejoicing as we do in all that, we cannot too strongly guard every one against the impression that The Army has become, either at its centre, or anywhere else, so situated that there is not at any given moment extraordinary strain in some financial direction. It has come to be very generally known that the individual Officer can only keep in existence because he has schooled his desires to be content with what others all around would regard as "an impossible pittance."

We hear one day of a great city where the conditions of life are such that a Rescue Home is evidently urgently needed, and the lady who calls our attention to the matter offers at once to find L500 towards the fitting-up of such a Home. But we know that to keep it up requires gifts amounting to some thousands of pounds each year, which, if not subscribed locally, we shall have to provide from Headquarters.

Now what is to be done? Are we to stand still with what seems to us so valuable an offer, not only of money-helps but of opportunity to help? Under the circumstances we know what The General would have done. He would without a moment's hesitation have said: "This ought to be done, and must be done"; and, trusting in God, he would have made the other step forward, though perfectly conscious that it would probably involve him in new cares and anxieties.

"Four shillings and tenpence. Now, really, can't we manage that twopence to make five shillings?"

Such an appeal, heard at a street-corner, where one of our Open-Air Meetings is being closed, is, I fear, the first and last that many people hear of The Salvation Army. They have not been present at the Meeting. All the beautiful speaking and singing of happy men and women, anxious to do anything they can for the good of others—of this the passers-by know nothing. Many of them "would not be seen standing to listen" amidst the crowd, still less when, for want of any considerable crowd, they would be more conspicuous. Hence they have no chance to see or know what really takes place. Had they even seen the whole process of getting that four shillings and tenpence they would have noted that most of the money really came from the Salvationists forming the ring, who threw their pence, or sixpences, gradually, in the hope of inciting others to do likewise.

As it is, I fear, many go their way "disgusted at the whole thing," because of the little scrap of it they have overheard.

But, pray, what is the essential difference between the call for "twopence to make up a shilling," and the colossal call made in the name of some royal personage for "an additional ten thousand pounds" to make up the L25,000 needed for a new hospital wing? Surely, a hospital, whose value and services commend it to the entire population should need no such spurs as subscription lists published in all the papers, or even the memory of a world benefactor to help it to get the needed funds. But it does, and its energetic promoters, be they royal or not, deserve and get universal praise for "stooping"—if it be stooping—to any device of this kind needed to get the cash. Do they get it? is the only question any sensible person asks.

And nobody questions that our "stooping" Officers and "begging Sisters" get the twopences and shillings and pounds needed to keep The Army going, in spite of all its critics—whether of the blatant street-corner, or of the kid-gloved slanderer type.

If we reflect upon the subject we shall see how sound and valuable are the principles on which all our twopenny appeals are based.

From the very beginning The General always set up the standard of local self-support as one of the essentials of any real work. Whilst labouring almost exclusively amongst the poorest of the poor, he wrote, in 1870:—



"The entire cost of carrying on the Mission at present is about L50 per week. The offerings of the people themselves at the various stations are now about L17 per week; indeed, nearly every Station is paying its own working expenses. Thus the poor people themselves do something. This they ought to do. It would be wrong to deprive them of the privilege of giving their mite, and if they prize the instrumentalities that have been blessed to them, and are rightly instructed, they will cheerfully give, however small their contribution may be."

It has only been by clinging to this plan that the little Society, begun in the East of London, has been able to spread itself throughout the world and yet remain independent, everywhere, of local magnates. And The General had the sorry satisfaction of seeing the structure tested by the most cruel winds of slander and suspicion, with the result that the total of contributions to its funds during the last years has been greater than ever before. Part, indeed, of our greatest difficulty with regard to money now is the large total yearly at our disposal, when all the totals in every country and locality are added together. Any one can understand that this must be so, and that it could not help us to publish the amount all together. If in a hundred places only a thousand pounds were raised, anybody can see that to cry aloud about the hundred thousand in any one of those places could not but make everybody in that place less capable of strenuous struggle such as is needed to get together each thousand.

Therefore, whilst publishing every year the properly audited balance-sheet referring to amounts received and spent in London, and similar balance-sheets, similarly audited, in each other capital, we have always refrained, and always shall refrain, from any such massing of totals, or glorying in any of them, as could help our enemies to check the flow of liberality anywhere.

When, in 1895, there seemed to be a general cry for some special investigation into the use made of the Fund raised as a result of The General's "Darkest England" Appeal, we were able to get a Commission of some of the most eminent men in the country, whose Report effectively disposed of any doubts at the time.

The Commission had for Chairman Earl Onslow, and its members were the Right Hon. Sir Henry James (afterwards Lord James), Messrs. Sydney Buxton, Walter Long, and Mr. Edwin Waterhouse, President of the Institute of Chartered Accountants, the Right Hon. Hobhouse, M.P., acted as Secretary.

The Report of no Commission could, however, still any hostile tongue. The cry for "investigation" has always been simply the cry of enmity or envy, which no amount of investigation could ever satisfy. The General perfectly understood this at the time, and wrote to a friend of the discerning order:—

"How I feel generally with respect to the future is expressed in one word, or rather two, 'Go forward.' The Red Sea has to be crossed and the people rescued from Hell here and Hell hereafter. We must stick to our post.

"I am quite aware that I may now, probably shall be, more misunderstood than ever. But God and time will fight for me. I must wait, and my comrades must wait with me.

"I need not say that the subject has had, and still has, our fullest consideration; but I cannot say more until I see clearly what position the country will take up towards me during the next few days."

Need I say that this Report never checked for one day the ferocity of the attacks upon the General or his Army. Had public opinion been deluded by the babblings of our critics in any country we should not only have lost all support, but been consigned to jails as swindlers and robbers. But the fact that we get ever-increasing sums, and are ever more and more aided by grants from Governments and Corporations, or by permissions for street-collecting, is the clearest demonstration that we are notoriously upright in all our dealings.

So many insinuations have been persistently thrown out, year after year, with regard to the integrity of The General's dealings with finance, that I have taken care not merely to consult with comrades, but to give opportunity to some who were said to "have left in disgust" with regard to these matters, to correct my own impression if they could.

Having been so little at Headquarters myself since I left for Germany, in 1890, I knew that my own personal knowledge might be disputed, and my accuracy questioned; therefore, I have been extra careful to ascertain, beyond all possibility of dispute, the correctness of the view I now give.

One who for many years had the direction of financial affairs at the International Headquarters, and who retired through failing health rather than become a burden upon the Army's ever-strained exchequer, wrote me on November 28, 1910:—

"The General has always taken the keenest interest in all questions bearing upon The Army's financial affairs, and has ever been alive to the necessity for their being so administered as to ensure the contributing public's having the utmost possible value for the money contributed, at the same time rendering a careful account from year to year of his stewardship.

"Carefully prepared budgets of income and expenditure are submitted to him year by year in connexion with all the central funds, reports are called for from time to time as to the extent to which such estimates have been realised.

"He was always keen and far-sighted in his consideration of the proposals put before him, and quick to find a flaw or weakness, or to point out any responsibilities which had not been sufficiently taken into account.

"Until recent years, when his world-wide journeyings made it necessary to pass the responsibility on to the Chief of the Staff, he largely initiated his own schemes for raising money, and wrote his own principal appeals.

"Those who refer to The General as 'a puppet in the hands of others,' or as anything but an unselfish, disinterested servant of humanity, only show their ignorance of their subject."

One of the schemes by which our finances have been greatly helped everywhere, and which is now imitated by many Churches and Societies all over the world—the Self-Denial Week, established in 1886—was The General's own invention. It was at a time when, as he writes:—

"In some Corps half, and in some more than half, of our Soldiers have been for months without any income at all, or at most with just a shilling or two. In addition, many of our regular contributors, as owners of land or of manufacturing houses, have suffered from the depression, and have not been able to assist us further.

"The rapid extension of The Army has necessitated an increased expenditure. Our friends will see that our position is really a serious one.

"What is to be done? Reduction, which means retreat, is impossible. To stand still is equally so.

"We propose that a week be set apart in which every Soldier and friend should deny himself of some article of food or clothing, or some indulgence which can be done without, and that the price gained by this self-denial shall be sent to help us in this emergency.

"Deny yourself of something which brings you pleasure or gratification, and so not only have the blessing of helping us, but the profit which this self-denial will bring to your own soul."

This effort, which in the year of its inauguration only produced 4,280, has in twenty-six years grown till it totalled in Great Britain in 1911, L67,161, and has so taken hold of the people's minds and hearts everywhere as to produce even in poor little Belgium last year 7,500 f.

Perhaps it need hardly be explained that the system of special effort and special begging near the entrance to railway stations, and in all the most prominent places of the cities, which has grown out of this week, with the approval of Governments and Press everywhere, has done more than any one could have dreamt of to increase interest in the needs of others, and holiness and self-denial in attending to them.

And it is, after all, upon that development of practical love for everybody that The Army's finance depends.

Merely to have interested so many rich people in The Army might have been a great credit to The General's influence, but to have raised up everywhere forces of voluntary mendicants who, at any rate, for weeks at a time are not ashamed to be seen begging in the streets for the good of people they have never seen, is an achievement simply boundless in its beneficent value to all mankind, and limitless in the guarantee it provides for the permanent maintenance and extension of our work.

Do let me beg you to realise a little of the intense interest taken in our finances locally by all our Soldiers. Did you ever get to know one of our Corps Treasurers? If not, believe me, that your education is incomplete. Whether he or she be schoolmistress in the mining village of Undergroundby, shopkeeper in Birmingham, or cashier of a London or Parisian bank, you will find an experienced Salvation Army Treasurer generally one of the most fully-developed intelligences living. He or she could easily surpass Judas Iscariot himself, either for ability at bargaining, or for what we call "Salvation cheek." He considers the Duke who owns most of his county, or the Mayor of the city, is "duty bound" to help The Army whenever its Officer thinks a fitting moment has come to him to ask them to do so—and the Treasurer never thinks that they already have helped us enough.

Every farthing his Corps has received or paid, for years past, has passed through his careful fingers. In any city Corps I would accept his judgment about a "doubtful" coin before that of almost any one. And no human being could surpass him in eagerness or care to get the very uttermost possible value for every penny spent. Hours after great Meetings are over you may find him with other officers busy still parcelling coppers, or in some other way "serving tables." His own business or family would very often suffer for his late hours of toil in the cause, if God allowed that sort of thing. But God has seen to it that many such a Treasurer has climbed out of the very gutter into a well-to-do employer's position, because he sought first His Kingdom and His righteousness.

These Treasurers, if anybody took the trouble to interview them, would make it impossible for any decent person to believe the lies that have been told about our "not publishing accounts," our "extravagance," etc. They know how carefully even the smallest Corps book or collecting-card is examined, and with what precise and skilful method every account is kept.

Like almost all our Local Officers, they are particularly cheery, friendly men and women. I fear we have but few women Treasurers, as finance, like so many other things, is supposed to be "beyond women's powers," and the sisters really do not, as a rule, like arithmetic. But man or woman, you have only to watch one of them a few moments, when anybody is trying to arrange a joint excursion with various Corps, to see that, with all their kindliness, the interests committed to their charge always command their first sympathy. Treasurer Pitman, of Leatherby, "never could see," and never will, why either Birmingham I or Leamington, or any other Corps, should be more favoured, or more burdened, than his own. Even should his words at times seem rough, or few, he will charm you, almost without exception, if you get out of his wife or the Captain, or somebody, all he does and suffers for Christ's sake. Nobody will ever know how often it was the Treasurer who gave half the "twopence to make up a shilling" in the street-corner collection that, perhaps, made the impression that The Army was "not self-supporting!"

But, in spite of all his jollity, the Treasurer is often a sorely-tried and burdened man. For, Oh, it is a struggle to get the pence together, week after week, especially where the Corps has a "Hall of its own," for ground rent and interest on which it must pay L5 to L10 a week!

The Treasurer's great opportunity comes when he has the joy of harbouring in his own home, for a night or two, the Chief of the Staff, or some other "Special from London." Then he may get a chance to "put a word in" for his Corps.

Does the Chief ask him, "Why do we not get on better in this town?"

"Well, Chief," he will reply, "just look at our Hall. It fairly stinks—always has done, owing to that canal at the back. That has almost made it impossible for us to get a large congregation, especially in warm weather."

"But why don't you get a better place?"

"Well, there is nothing in the town large enough to let, and as for building—any site that would be of use would cost a pile of money, and we have no hope of raising any large sum here."

"Why? Have you no rich friends?"

"There are a few very rich men here. I was seeing one of them myself only last month when we wanted to get some new instruments for our Band. But what do you think he said to me?

"'Why,' said he, 'I have more than enough to do to keep up my own church. We have got to rebuild it, and it will cost us L30,000.'"

"There is not a mill-owner in the place who does not want to get Salvationist workpeople, even to the boys of our Soldiers, because they know they can depend on them. But to help us to get a Hall! Ah! 'that is not in their line.'"

Therefore, the Treasurer and every Officer must go on week after week, with the miserable beg, beg, beg, which afflicts them, perhaps, even more than the most critical listener. And then our great work must suffer both for want of the needed plant to carry it on, and from the appearance of too much begging, which, in so many instances, has undoubtedly hindered our gathering in the very people we most wished to help.

What stories of self-denial, not one week in the year more than another, any such Treasurer could tell! How Officers managed to rear a healthy and promising family upon less than a pound a week: how The General's own granddaughters "made six shillings a week do" for their personal support, for months, because their Corps could not afford more: how the Sergeant-Major's wife did her washing during the night "before Self-Denial Week came on," so as to be able to stand all day long outside the station, in the cold, collecting: how widow Weak "keeps up her cartridges"; that is to say, goes on giving the Corps a regular subscription of sixpence a week since her husband's death, as before, "lest the Corps should go down."

Lately they took me to see a German widow, now suffering in a hospital, who when her whole weekly cash earnings outside only totalled two shillings a week, invariably "put in her cartridge" two pfennigs, say a farthing. No. I gave her nothing, nor did anybody else in my presence, as her needs are now attended to; and I am sure she would rather keep up the fact of never having received anything from, but always having given to, The Army.

Of course we do not pretend that all Treasurers and Soldiers are of the model sort. If they were, many of our bitterest financial struggles would never occur. If everybody who "kept back part" of what they ought to give to God were struck dead for singing such words as—

Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small.

God would need many a regiment of corpse carriers, I fear.

The General, seventeen years ago, wrote to a wealthy lady who had been excusing somebody's want of liberality to us by some of the slanders they had heard.

"Tell your friends in Gull-town the same that I am telling the public: that nine out of every ten statements in the Press that reflect upon us are either out-and-out falsehoods or 'half-lies,' which are worse still; and that, though not infallible, when in one case out of ten we do make mistakes, there are circumstances which, if known, would excuse them very largely.

"I am having wonderful Meetings—immense crowds, soul-awakening influences all day—Penitent-Forms; back-sliders, sinners and half-and-half saints coming back to God. Never saw anything, anywhere, in any part of my life, much more blessed.

"Read my letter in The War Cry about the Two Days—every word as from my heart.

"Money or no money, we must and will have Salvation. If the rich won't help Lazarus through us, then their money must perish. We must do the best we can.

"Join the Light Brigade, and give a halfpenny per week! We shall get through. Is your soul prospering? Cast yourself this morning on your Lord for a supply of all your need."

This "Light Brigade" is another invention of the General's, partly founded upon the Indian habit of taking a handful out of every new supply of food, and laying it aside for the priests.

The "Light Brigade" consists of Soldiers and friends who place on their table a little box, into which all who like can drop a little coin by way of thanksgiving to God and care for the poor before they eat. These are called "Grace-before-Meat" Boxes, and in England alone they produced last year L8,284. 17s. 2d. for the support of our Social Work.

Altogether I venture to say it will be found that for every shilling he ever got anywhere he prompted the giving of at least a thousand shillings to other benevolent enterprises, and that mankind is indebted to him for the stirring up to benevolent action of countless millions who never even heard his name.

At the same time it will be found that by his financial plans he has made The Army so largely dependent upon public opinion that, were its beneficent work to cease, its means of survival would at the same time become extinct, so that it could not continue to exist when it had ceased to be a Salvation Army.



Chapter XXIII

In Germany in Old Age

Though we have had occasion to mention Germany repeatedly, there has been no opportunity to call attention to the great importance which The General attached to our Work in that country. It seemed almost as though we had been premature in our attack upon the country, so little were either Governments or people prepared for our violent urgency, when we began in Stuttgart, in 1886. But The General lived to see his annual visits to Berlin looked forward to by the Press and public as a natural provision for the spiritual wants of those who had practically ceased to be of any religion.

In the following description of him, taken from German papers during one of his last visits to that country, we get not only some idea of his appearance to the people when he was eighty-one years of age, but his sense of the importance of that people in the future of The Army. And it is a remarkable fact that German cities should have been subsidising The Army's work before any English one did so.

We have happily got complete enough accounts of The General's tour in Germany, when eighty-one, to supply not merely a most artistic representation of his own appearance and action at that age, but at the same time to give an almost perfect view of the impressions and teachings his Army has been giving out there for nearly thirty years.

In Duesseldorf, we are told:—

"The old idealist spoke for an hour and a half with the fire of enthusiasm, throwing out every now and then some spark of his humour amidst his stream of eloquence. He did not speak like a dying greybeard, but like a young man ready to take up to-morrow morning the struggle with the misery of the whole world. Out of such material as this old man are made the great men who do great deeds on the battle-field, in the sphere of science, in the province of religion, of humanity, and of society."

The Cologne Gazette goes more into detail, and says:—

"At his great age the Founder and Leader of The Salvation Army hastens from continent to continent, from land to land, to awaken in Public Meetings love for your neighbour. After a journey through Holland he came into West Germany. In this week he speaks in great cities from Dortmund to Carlsruhe, each day in a new place, and often in several Meetings. Many thousands came together last Sunday from Essen and neighbourhood, so that the great hall of the Soldiers' Home itself was not large enough to hold them at the various Meetings. Here yesterday evening 2,000 people wanted to give him a warm welcome in the Emperor's Hall.

"The eighty-one-year-old philanthropist, who strides so unbendingly along, is full of youthful enthusiasm. His tall figure, with its gleaming eyes, long curved nose, and flowing beard, help him to present himself to the audience, with lively gestures illuminating his thoughts, as at once accuser of our times and gentle judge. He is especially a gentle judge of fallen women and girls, 55,000 of whom, from ten years of age upwards, he tells us, The Army has rescued.

"'The fallen young men are forgiven by their fathers and mothers,' says he. 'Why should not we also forgive the fallen girls? If nobody else will do so, we will.' This sentiment called forth general applause.

"'And then,' The General went on, 'The religion of The Army has three main principles: (1) You must get right with your God. You must be reconciled with Him, and feel the kiss of His forgiving love. (2) You must live righteously in your own private life, in your family, and in holiness of heart. (3) You must give yourself up to the service of your fellow-men—must not wait to be called upon, but must have a fire in yourself—the fire of love.'

"It took mightily hold of the audience as, following upon this definition of the religion of The Army, he told them that he felt himself now nearing the cold stream of death, but fully believed that this religion, which had carried him through so much of care and disappointment up to this day, would also carry him through the dark valley into Paradise, where he, who for so long had known no holiday, would at last find rest."

Everywhere in Germany it is this revelation of a religion, founded on unshakable faith, which impresses even the sceptical journalist. Here and there the tendency to doubt shows itself a little between the lines, and it is suggested that the audience were only for the time being under the spell of this remarkable speaker. But most impressive is always the description of The General's calls to repentance and faith.

In Berlin for a number of years the General held Meetings in the great Circus Busch on the National Buss-tag, Repentance Day; and, as the way in which his name is pronounced by most Germans comes very near one of the two words, it has almost become a Booth Day in the thoughts of many.

"It was evident," says one paper, "again in the two Meetings held yesterday that the personality of the Founder and Leader of The Army still exercises its charm. Both Meetings were crowded; the Circus was filled from arena up to gallery with a pressing multitude. At the close of the evening address there was the call to the Penitent-Form, and 158 men and women, out of the most differing circles of society, obeyed the call. Mr. Booth spoke in both Meetings with the freshest energy and youthful fire, and to-day he travels to Denmark."

The Frankfort Gazette, and other papers, having the opportunity for the first time to report The General's Meetings on a whole Sunday, a little later, gave a much completer description of his preaching:—

"The Founder of The Army," says the Gazette, "bears his eighty-one years lightly. He is still equal to all the toils of the agitation, and spoke for over five hours in three Meetings in the great hall of the Merchants' Union. The old gentleman keeps up his good humour, and perfectly understands how to intersperse interesting anecdotes in his addresses."

"Last Sunday," says another paper, "was a Booth Day, and certainly a Repentance Day. The General came to win Soldiers for his Army, and ammunition for it, too; but there was plenty of opportunity for repentance given. Everybody knows now the why and wherefore of The Army's Meetings. There is music—then prayer with closed eyes, and then a little sister sings a religious song to a worldly tune. That was so yesterday; but then The General came as chief speaker. He had no need of any other influence; his mere appearance works upon every one.

"The public was composed of all sorts of people. Politicians, Socialists, as well as clergymen and leaders in Church work were there, together with officials and working-men and women."

Nothing could be more impressive as to the ever-widening circles who crowded to listen to The General than the following description of his Meeting in Potsdam, the German Windsor, where the Emperor generally resides. Says the local paper:—

"One could not cease to marvel at the crowded state of the auditorium. The intelligent public, which generally keeps away from popular demonstrations, was there in force. Jurists, state officials, officers in uniform, doctors, and many ladies were amongst the hearers of The General."

But some of the papers in smaller but not less striking reports gave us a far fuller description of what The General's appeals brought home to the hearts of his hearers everywhere.

"No laboured rhetoric," said a Leipzig paper, "distinguished the speech, and applause was not won by catchy phrases. The speaker talks like a plain man to plain people. Everybody listens enthralled as he tells of his life's work, of the unbounded love with which he would like to surround and lead to Salvation every one who lives and moves. One gets to understand how this man could gather around him such masses of disciples, and why, right and left, many a lady deeply touched puts her handkerchief to her eyes and many a man wipes a tear from his cheek."

Best of all, however, comes ever and anon in these reports the testimony that The General has not been a mere talker, like so many others of his day, but has raised up a real fighting force who have, by gradual painstaking labour and endurance, won for him this unbounded confidence in what he says of The Army's religion.

"I remember," writes one reporter, "how in the nineties, in Berlin, no Soldier, much less a Sister, could appear in the street without being laughed at at every step, made fun of, and even abused, and I visited Meetings in which there was great disorder. But how the picture was altered a few years later! Quietly and patiently the Soldiers let scorn and even assaults pass, until the very rowdiest of the Berliners were sick of it. And on the other hand every one soon said that these people, after all, were doing nothing but to go right at the deepest miseries of the great cities—that they fed the hungry, visited the sick, and generally carried out practical Christianity."

"True," writes another, "it is naturally not every one whose taste is pleased with the ceremonies of The Army; but before the world-wide, unending, unselfish work of the Salvationist every one feels like saying, 'Hats off!'

"It was not mere love of sensation that led such a stream of men to the Princes Hall on Tuesday evening. They wished for once to come face to face with the old General whose work they had learnt in the course of time to value. Men of science, clergymen and officials and educated people generally, for once made The Army their rendezvous."

And those who had heard the General before immediately recognised that they had not only to do with the very same resolute Leader, following the one aim with undiminished ardour, but relying upon the same old Gospel to win the world for Christ.

"He speaks," says a Hamburg paper, "mostly with his hands behind his back, swaying gently to and fro. The short, sharp English sentences are translated one by one. It is the old recruiting talk of the chief captain in the fight against the sins of this world, the pressing exhortation to get converted at once, to-day, in this very hour. It is the old entreaty to become a child of God, in spite of all opposition; the old call to purity of heart and life. Whoever has wandered must come back again. He who has fallen a hundred times must get up again for the hundred and first time.

"This General believes in the Salvation of the worst and the most deeply sunken. He preaches the gospel of holding on, of going steadily forwards, of freedom from the lusts of the flesh and from public opinion. He preaches at the same time the gospel of work, of unwearied faithfulness in business, and of love to all mankind.

"When he has finished The Army sings with musical accompaniment and clapping of hands its glad and even merry-sounding songs, not without a mixture of that sudden inrush of enthusiasm which springs from the conviction of having the only faith that can make people blessed, and the consciousness of a resistance hard to be overcome. And then begins that extraordinary urgent exhorting of the sinner from the stage—the ten-and-twenty times repeated 'Come'—come to the Penitent-Form, represented here by a row of twenty chairs. 'In the last Meeting of The General's in Copenhagen thirty-three came out. How many will it be in Hamburg?' cries the leading Officer.

"The first are soon kneeling, sobbing, praying, their hands over their eyes at the chairs. Ever new songs are sung—spiritual songs set to worldly melodies. Ever anew sounds the ringing 'Come' from the stage. Below, the men and women Soldiers go from one to another, speaking to the hesitating ones, laying a hand on the shoulder of the ready ones, and leading them to the front. What a long time it may be since any loving hand was laid on the shoulder of many of those Recruits! Life, the rough, pitiless life of the great city, has always been pushing them along lower and lower down till it got them underfoot. Here they listen to the sound of a voice of sympathy, and feel the pressure of a hand that wishes to lead them. And there above sits The General for a while in an arm-chair, saying: 'The deepest-fallen may rise again. He has only to step out into the ranks of The Army, which is marching upwards to the Land of Grace.' As we left the Hall the thirty-fourth had already come out."

It must be remembered that all these descriptions come from part of a single month's journeys, and that The General was dependent upon translation for nearly every moment of intercourse either in public or private with the people, and that it will be entirely understood how great a power for God in this world a man entirely given up may be after he has passed his eightieth year, and with what clearness witness for God can be borne even in a strange tongue when it is plain and definite.

"From time immemorial it has been customary to class philanthropists amongst the extraordinaries, the marvellous people—who do not pass muster in the common world—exceptions. Nobody thinks of measuring himself with them, for the battle of life belongs to the egotists—each one of whom fights for himself. He who fights for others is smilingly acknowledged by the well-disposed as a stranger in the world. The ordinary man of the street pitilessly calls him a fool, and the mass considers him unworthy of a second thought. He is there, and he is endured so long as he does not bother any one.

"There are three factors against which the old General has had to fight all his life long—against well-meaning hesitation, against hard-hearted egoism, and against the idle indifference born of ignorance. And these three streams that have flowed against him in every part of the world have not been able to hold him back. To those who think he has only become an important man, and to those who measure a man's worth by the outer honours he gains, he became a man of importance when London made him a citizen and Oxford an honorary Doctor. And now men are better inclined to excuse in his case the curious title of General of a curious Army.

"I have often heard the grey-headed General in Public Meetings. For the first time on Saturday evening I got near to him in a more private way. And then it seemed to me like a picture, as when a grey warrior, a commander with snow-white beard and keen profile, stands upright by the mast of a ship and gazes straight before him towards a new country.

"And General Booth, despite his eighty-one years, is looking out towards new land. He does not live on memories like the generality of old men. He does not allow himself any favoured spot by the fireside. Full of fight and always leading, General Booth stands at the centre of a gigantic apparatus. And the old gentleman does not look like allowing men to take the control out of his hands.

"Everything about him displays energy and justifiable self-consciousness. He energetically shook my hand. With the ability of the man of the world he drew the conversation to that which was nearest to his heart. And what his eyes can no longer exactly observe his ears doubly well hear. He arrived on Friday evening from Denmark, holds three Meetings in Hamburg on Sunday, travels on to Potsdam on Monday, and occupies himself with thoughts of a journey of inspection in India.