Authoritative Life of General William Booth — The End, Part 1
The End It seems almost impossible to describe the ending of The General's life, because there was not even the semblance of an end within a week of his death.
The last time I talked with him, just as I was leaving for Canada in January, he for the first time made a remark that indicated a doubt of his continuance in office.
He hardly hinted at death; but, referring to the sensations of exhaustion he had felt a few days previously, he said: "I sometimes fancy, you know, that I may be getting to a halt, and then"--with his usual pause when he was going to tease--"we shall have a chance to see what some of you can do!"
We laughed together, and I went off expecting to hear of his fully recovering his activity "after the operation," to which we were always looking forward.
Oh, that operation!
It was to be the simplest thing in the world, when the eye was just ready for it, as simple and as complete a deliverance from blindness as the other one had seemed, for a few days, to be.
But this time he would be fully warned, and most cautious after it, and I really fancied the joy he would have after so long an eclipse.
It seemed to me that he never realised how great his own blindness already was, so strong was his resolution to make the best of it, and so eager his perception, really by other means, of everything he could in any way notice.
We had difficulty in remembering that he really could not see when he turned so rapidly towards anybody approaching him or whose voice he recognised!
To Colonel Kitching during this dark period he wrote one day: "Anybody can believe in the sunshine.
We, that is you and I and a few more of whom we know, ought to be desperate believers by this time--Saviours of men--against their will, nay, compellers of the Almighty."
And his writing was always so marvellous, both for quantity and quality.
His very last letters to several of us consisted of a number of pages all written with perfect clearness and regularity with his own hand.
It was, perhaps, the greatest triumph of his own unfailing faith and sunny optimism that he kept even those who were nearest to him full of hope as to his complete recovery of strength till within a few days of his death; and then, gliding down into the valley, surprised all by sinking suddenly into eternal peace without any distinct warning that the end was so near.
His youngest daughter, Mrs. Commissioner Booth-Hellberg, was with him during the last days.
But, really, it would be only fair to describe his end as having begun from the day when, during his Sixth Motor Tour, the eye which had been operated upon became blind.
Though after having it taken out, he very largely rallied, and passed through grand Campaigns for some years, he was ever looking forward to the operation on the other eye, which was to restore him to partial sight.
His cheeriness through those years and his marvellous energy astonished all.
The following notes of his first foreign journey after the loss of sight cannot but be of special interest, showing with what zest and enjoyment he threw himself into all his undertakings for Christ:-- "Saturday, _February_ 12, 1910. --The crossing has been quite rough enough.
I slept very little, and it was with real difficulty that I shambled through the long railway dépôt to my train for Rotterdam.
At eight o'clock was woke up from a sound sleep with a startling feeling.
It is a pity I could not have slept on.
Fixed up at the old hotel six floors up (the Mass Hotel).
Very fair accommodation, but a little difficult to get anything to eat, that is, such as meet my queer tastes and habits.
Nevertheless, on the principle of 'any port in a storm,' I have had much worse accommodation.
"Sunday, _February_ 13, 1910. --Had a wonderful day.
Far ahead of anything experienced before in this place.
My opinion about it is jotted down in _The War Cry_.
I had, as I thought, remarkable power on each of the three occasions, and finished off at ten o'clock far less exhausted than I frequently am.
Still, I scarcely got into my rooms before the giddiness came on in my head very badly, and continued off and on until ten the next morning.
I can't account for it.
It may be my stomach, or it may have something to do with the rocking of the steamer on Friday night.
It may be what the doctors fear, my overtaxed brain, or it may be something else.
Whatever it is, it is very awkward while it lasts.
Fifty-seven souls for the day.
"Monday, _February_ 14, 1910. --Left by the 12:37 p. m.
train for Groningen.
Slept a good bit of the way.
Arrived about 5:12 p. m.
Reception very remarkable, considering the population is only some 78,000. It was one of the most remarkable greetings I have ever had in any part of the world.
There must have been getting on for a couple of thousand people in the station itself, who had each paid five cents for a platform ticket, and outside 5,000 is a low estimate.
Everybody very friendly.
"Entertained by the Governor's wife's sister.
The Meeting was as wonderful as the reception.
Immense hall.
Could not be less than 1,500 people packed into it on one floor.
I talked for an hour and three-quarters.
Colonel Palstra, my translator, did splendidly, the people listening spellbound; not a soul moved until the last minute, when three or four went out for some reason or other.
It was a wonderful time.
Settled to sleep about 11:30 p. m.
not feeling any worse.
"Tuesday, _February_ 15, 1910. --Had a fair night's sleep.
The strange feelings in the head continue off and on, and the fact that they don't pass off, in connexion with the entreaties of the Chief, and those about me, made me consent to give up the Officers' Council I was proposing to hold at Amsterdam next week, putting on Lectures on the evenings of the two days which I would otherwise have used for Councils.
I am very loath to do this, from feeling that the Officers are the great need.
So far I have been delighted with what I have seen of the Officers in the country.
We ought to capture Holland.
"The Governor has sent word to say that he is coming to see me this afternoon.
"I have had a long sleep, and I hope I shall be better for it.
The Governor has just come in.
He appears a very amiable person, very friendly disposed towards The Army.
We had a very nice conversation about matters in general, and at parting he expressed his kindest wishes for my future and for the future of The Army.
"I left at a few minutes before seven.
It has been snowing and raining, and freezing and thawing the last few hours, consequently the atmosphere is not very agreeable.
However, my carriage was well warmed, and we arrived at Assen in half an hour.
"A very nice hall--packed with a very respectful audience.
I spoke on the old subject, 'The Lesson of my Life,' and made it 'better as new' as the Jew says about his second-hand garments.
I was very pleased with it and the people were too.
I am entertained by Baron and Baroness Van der Velts.
The lady speaks English very nicely, and they are evidently very pleased to have me with them.
"I was glad to settle to sleep about eleven, and thankful for the mercies of the day."
It was thus that nearly three years passed away.
Then came at last the time when the long-hoped-for operation was to take place.
Rookstone, the house in Hadley Wood, a village on the northern outskirts of London, where The General died, stands almost at the foot of the garden of the present General, so that they could be constantly in touch when at home, and the General's grandchildren greatly enjoyed his love for them.
But in the large three-windowed room, where his left eye was operated upon, and where a few months later he died, his Successor, his youngest daughter, Commissioner Howard, and his Private Secretary, Colonel Kitching, had many valued interviews with him during those last months.
I had not that opportunity until it was too late to speak to him, for he had said when it was suggested, full as he had been of the hope of prolonged life almost to the end, "Oh, yes, he'll want to come and get something for my life and that will just finish me."
Of the operaton itself we prefer to let the physician himself speak in the following extract from _The Lancet_ of the 19th October, 1912: "...
He was not in very good health in March, 1910; he had occasional giddy attacks and lapses of memory, and from April till June of the same year he had albuminuria, from which, however, he appeared entirely to recover.
The vision of his left eye became gradually worse, but I encouraged him to go on without operation as long as he could.
He did so until about the end of 1911, when his sight had become so bad that he could barely find his way about;
indeed, he met with one or two minor accidents on account of not being able to see.
It then appeared to me he had much to gain and very little to lose by an operation, and further, he was in much better health than he had been for some time.
I pointed out to him that there was a risk and that if the operation failed he would be totally blind, but that there were very long odds in his favour, and that I was willing to take the risk if he was.
He asked one question: 'If you were in my place would you have it done?'
I said certainly I would.
That quite decided him and all that remained to be done was to fix a time.
General Booth at that date had some work which he wanted to finish, and eventually the date for operation was fixed for May 23rd.
On that day I operated.
I did a simple extraction under cocaine.
"Nothing could have been more satisfactory, as will be seen from the notes, and the bulletin sent to the papers was, 'The operation was entirely successful; the ultimate result depends on The General's recuperative power.'
When I covered the eye and bandaged it I thought that success was certain, and was confirmed in that opinion on the following morning when I lifted up the dressing and found all was well, and that the patient, when he partly opened the eye, could see.
On the third day Dr. Milne, who was in attendance, at once saw that mischief had occurred, and the sequence of events I have narrated.
How the eye became infected I am unable to say.
I
used every precaution; as I told the patient afterwards, the only omission I could think of was that I had not boiled or roasted myself....
I looked carefully for these before each operation.
I
regret two things in the case: (1) that the last operation was not done two or three months before when General Booth was in better health; (2) that it was not postponed for another month, in which case I should not have done it, for looking back on the whole history I feel certain that he was not in his best condition on May 23rd when the operation was performed."
The General's own response when he was gently informed that there was no hope of his seeing objects any more was:-- "Well, the Lord's Will be done.
If it is to be so I have but to bow my head and accept it."
He subsequently remarked that as he had served God and the people with his eyes he must now try to serve without them.
He continued to dictate letters, and even to write occasionally as he had been accustomed to do, with the help of his secretaries, and a frame that had been prepared for the purpose.
But the very struggles against depression and to cheer others, together with the sleeplessness that resulted took from his little remaining strength, and it became evident that he was gradually sinking.
Yet he was so remarkably cheerful and at times even confident that all around him were kept hoping up to the very last.
To a group of Commissioners who visited him he said:-- "I am hoping speedily to be able to talk to Officers and help them all over the world.
I am still hoping to go to America and Canada as I had bargained for.
I am hoping for several things whether they come to pass or not."
But on Tuesday, the 20th August, it became evident that the end was very near.
There gathered around his bed Mr. and Mrs. Bramwell Booth, Mrs. Commissioner Booth-Hellberg, Commissioner Howard, who had been summoned by telegram from his furlough, Colonel Kitching, Brigadier Cox, Adjutant Catherine Booth, Sergeant Bernard Booth, Captain Taylor, his last Assistant Secretary, Nurse Ada Timson of the London Hospital, and Captain Amelia Hill, his housekeeper.
The heart showed no sign of failure until within half an hour of his death, and the feet remained warm till within twenty minutes of the event.
But the heart and pulse became gradually weaker, the breathing faster and shorter and more irregular, and at thirteen minutes past ten o'clock at night it entirely ceased.
London awoke to find in our Headquarters window the notice, "General Booth has laid down his Sword.
God is with us."
The day after his death, at a meeting of all the Commissioners present in London, the envelope containing the General's appointment of his successor was produced by the Army's Solicitors, endorsed in the General's own writing and still sealed.
Upon being opened, it was found to be dated the 21st August, 1890, and that it appointed the Chief of the Staff, William Bramwell Booth, to succeed him.
The new General, in accepting the appointment, and promising by God's help to fulfil its duties, expressed his great pleasure in discovering that it was dated during the lifetime of his mother, so that he could feel sure that her prayers had been joined with his father's for him at the time.
Immediately there began to pour in upon us from every part of the world expressions of admiration and sympathy which were most valuable in their promise for the Army's increased opportunity and usefulness in the future.
His Majesty, the King, who had manifested deep sympathy with The General in his illness, sent the following generous message, which was one of the first to come to hand:-- "Abbeystead Hall.
"I am grieved to hear the sad news of the death of your Father.
The nation has lost a great organiser, and the poor a whole-hearted and sincere friend, who devoted his life to helping them in a practical way.
"Only in the future shall we realise the good wrought by him for his fellow-creatures.
"To-day there is universal mourning for him.
I join in it, and assure you and your family of my true sympathy in the heavy loss which has befallen you.
"George R. I."
Queen Alexandra telegraphed:-- "I beg you and your family to accept my deepest and most heartfelt sympathy in the irreparable loss you and the nation have sustained in the death of your great, good, and never-to-be-forgotten Father, a loss which will be felt throughout the whole civilised world.
But, thank God, his work will live for ever.
"Alexandra."
President Taft wired:-- "Washington.
"To General Bramwell Booth: "In the death of your good Father the world loses one of the most effective practical philanthropists.
His long life and great talents were dedicated to the noble work of helping the poor and weak, and to giving them another chance to attain success and happiness.
"Accept my deep sympathy.
"Wm.
H.
Taft."
The King of Denmark wired:-- "Express my sincere sympathy.
"Christian R." The Lord Mayor of London, Sir Thomas B. Crosby, wired:-- "The City of London sincerely mourns the passing away of its distinguished citizen, General Booth, whose grand and good work entitles him to imperishable gratitude."
Whilst the Governors and Premiers of most of the Colonies where the Army is at work cabled in similar terms.
The Emperor of Germany, as well as the King and Queen, and Queen Alexandra, sent wreaths to be placed on The General's coffin, and the tributes of the press all over the world will be found in the following chapter.
More than 65,000 persons came to Clapton Congress Hall to look upon his face as he lay in his coffin, and more than 35,000 gathered for the great Memorial Service in the Olympia, the largest obtainable building in London, on the evening before the funeral.
All the press commented upon the remarkable joyfulness of our funeral services, and the funeral itself the next day was admitted to have been the most impressive sight the great city has seen in modern times.
In addition to officers, many bands from all parts of the country came to join in it.
The coffin had been brought in the night to Headquarters in Queen Victoria Street.
The funeral procession was formed on the Embankment, and whilst it marched through the city all traffic was suspended from 11 till 1 o'clock.
The millions who witnessed its passage along the five-mile march to Abney Park Cemetery seemed as generally impressed and sympathetic as the multitude gathered there.
It was indeed touching to see not only policemen and ambulance workers; but publicans and numbers of the people offering glasses of water to the sisters who had been on their feet for six or seven hours before the service was ended.
The memorial services held all over the world on the following Sunday were attended by quite unparalleled crowds, of whom very many publicly surrendered their lives to God.
