The
Life of General William Booth
Vol. 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ 1883-1885
Contents
NEGOTIATIONS
WITH
THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND
ONE
of the penalties of his sudden rise into the public attention was the
necessity forced upon William Booth of adopting, or attempting to adopt,
the part of a diplomatist.
Here was a very simple and downright man, whose whole being, since the
dawn of his understanding, had been consumed by the single purpose of
saving wretched and unhappy people from the consequences of sin, who
had gone of his own will and choice into the most obscure and abandoned
places of the world to fulfil this passionate hunger and thirst of his
spirit, and who was so simple and primitive that he could trust himself
to the most brutal mobs of industrial England with the ancient thunders
of Sinai and the least qualified and uncompromising version of Christianity.
Here was this poor preacher, suddenly become a public character, suddenly
in conflict with Churches and Governments, and suddenly called upon
to deal with acute and vigilant intellects who regarded him, for the
most part, either with an indignant hostility or a suspicious disapprobation.
It would probably have been wiser if William Booth had kept to his own
rough path, stubbornly pursuing his original goal, and never expecting
assistance or sympathy from those in smoother places who had the power
to help him; but he was hungry for unselfish success, dreamed of evangelizing
the Churches as well as the masses, and to this end was sometimes inclined
to consider a working understanding with men in high places, who, reflection
ought to have told him, could not possibly become his partners.
He would have been a grander figure, I think, if he had held solitary
to his path of darkness and storm, poverty and suffering, neglect and
contumely: it is with a feeling of regret that we find him, although
the invitation came from the other side, entering the sphere of diplomacy,
and desiring, however pure and unselfish the end, the sympathetic help
of authority; but we must not forget, indeed it is a salient characteristic
of the man, that with all his plainness and downright honesty there
was an element of dexterity in his nature, a disposition to finesse,
which kept him perpetually on the watch for opportunity, and moved him
to clutch with both hands at every chance of advancing the cause which
was dearer to him than his own life.
He was a man, whose true nature did not always show itself in conversation
except with those who entirely shared his opinions or were his intimate
and affectionate friends. He endeavoured to adopt with those whom he
felt to be inimical or critical the manner which we describe as easygoing
— a practical common-sense manner, not very attractive perhaps,
and somewhat foreign to his loving, impulsive, and affectionate nature.
His extraordinary tenderness, his almost feminine sympathy with the
suffering and the lost, were completely hidden on these occasions; he
appeared only as the organizer, the business man of religion, who wanted
to get things done. It was as if he feared to show his heart to one
or two, and could only unbosom himself before a multitude or to those
who loved him.
I can imagine that men who saw him only on business, though they saw
him a score of times, formed no true opinion of the real man.
The impression he made in the early ‘eighties on Archbishop Benson
and Dr. Randall Davidson, the present Archbishop of Canterbury, was
the impression of a good and straightforward man who had no intention
in the world of setting up a new sect and who was not antipathetic to
the idea of some form of alliance with the Church of England.
He told them that he had small patience with the quarrelling chapels,
and that he felt himself nearer to the Church of England than to any
other body in Christendom. He was emphatic in all the conversations
he had with them that the very last thing he desired to do was to found
a fresh body of dissent. Again and again, Archbishop Davidson tells
me, he laid emphasis on this assertion that he was founding an Army,
not a Church.
A letter addressed in 1881 to the Archbishop of Canterbury by a clergyman
in East London shows that this opinion formed in Lambeth Palace was
at least an opinion shared by one who had carefully endeavoured to get
the views of William Booth. After mentioning that he has had an interview
with General Booth, this correspondent proceeds:
I
have long felt that if he would consent to work with the Church, in
the now vast movement he regulates, it would be for both his advantage
and that of the Church of England. I went therefore to question him
on the subject. I asked him if he was founding a Church, or only heading
an evangelistic agency which could work alongside of the Church of England.
He assured me the latter was the case. I asked him if his people had
any ill-feeling towards the clergy, as I had heard reports of occasional
attacks by Salvationists upon the ministers of the Church. He again
assured me, that though individuals amongst the Army might have met
occasional Church opposition with ill-advised retort, such attacks were
wholly contrary to his wishes or to the general principles of the Army,
who were earnest after unity and concord, especially with the Church
of England.
I asked him whether they administered the Sacraments, and he told me
that some of his people on their own responsibility had had a very simple
“breaking of bread” together, but that this was no part
of the “Army “— as an evangelistic agency. . . . Before
I left he said he earnestly hoped one day there might be a service for
the Army in St. Paul’s Cathedral, and that the Clergy might learn
to see that the Army was co-operating and not in any way in opposition.
Whether
the General was more drawn to the Church of England than to any of the
other Churches is a matter on which we should not care to express a
definite opinion, but we think it is beyond all reasonable question
that he was utterly unconscious of animosity towards any of the Churches,
and that his procedure then and afterwards never veiled the least degree
or real antagonism. It was not his business to quarrel with the Churches,
and he had a natural detestation of controversy.
He desired recognition for the Army to advance his gospel of salvation
and to protect his followers from persecution; his immediate aim was
certainly limited to this desire for recognition, and anything in the
nature of definite alliance had probably not presented itself to his
mind as a practical idea. In order to obtain recognition he was willing
to say generous and even flattering things to those in authority; he
wanted to smooth troubled waters, to remove suspicion and prejudice,
to win the sympathy of those who could help him financially.
But even while he was prepared to go a considerable distance to meet
his critics in order that he might gain this authoritative recognition
for his followers, there was always something to which he held openly
and definitively, and this was his absolute headship of the Army. He
was honest enough to make this fact absolutely and abundantly clear.
It must be remembered that in the negotiations with the Church of England,
William Booth was approaching men the aim of whose diplomacy was naturally
to gain control over the irregular organization which he had brought
into existence. This diplomacy was not dictated by jealousy: some of
those who pursued it were earnest admirers of the Salvation Army, and
almost disciples of Mrs. Booth.
It was dictated purely by the genuine and laudable desire to save the
work of William Booth from becoming a menace, not to the Church, but,
as those who followed it genuinely believed, to Christianity itself.
I have seen something of the correspondence which reached Lambeth Palace
at that time, touching this question of the Church’s countenance
of the Army, and so earnest, so solemn, and so indignant are the wild,
absurd charges brought against the followers of William Booth, that
it is a wonder to me the Archbishop went even as far as he did in those
difficult negotiations.
And these letters are not the whisperings of jealous clergymen, but
the bold and plain-spoken charges of laymen, many of them belonging
to the working-class. One man quotes from The World newspaper that “Mr.
Booth is accustomed to adapt sardonically a certain text of Scripture,
and say, ‘The last enemy that shall be destroyed is the parson.’”
Another writes, “I cannot but think that a most awful responsibility
is incurred by any who by their influence help on the propaganda of
such sickening blasphemy. . . .“ Another describes Salvation Army
processions as “a lot of screaming, raving youths and girls, dancing
and indulging in most unseemly contortions.”
“Their proceedings,” we read in another letter, “can
do no possible good, and merely afford an incessant subject for the
scoffs and blasphemies of the publicans and their allies.” “I
hope,” writes a working-man, “you will not imitate your
late predecessor, to have your name blazoned in The War Cry, for supporting
and encouraging those I call the Salvation Army.”
“Returning to England a week since,” writes a correspondent
from the suburbs, “. . . I heard that you had publicly expressed
your approval of the proceedings of the Salvation Army. I trust my informant
was mistaken in attributing such sentiments to your Grace, as I have
no doubt that could you but hear the fearful blasphemies uttered publicly
by that body you would never lend it countenance or support.”
Dr. Davidson knew that in spite of exaggeration and excitement the Salvation
Army was witnessing the miracle of conversion all over the country;
he was honest enough not to shut his eyes to this important fact, even
while he gave his ears to those who had nothing but abuse and condemnation
for the Army; he therefore, desired to curb with the instant hand of
authority those things in the Army which offended the susceptibilities
of the Church party, rather than allow them to be outgrown in the evolution
of this new force in the religious world, and to leave unchecked only
the devotion and earnestness which gained the Army its lasting victories.
Dr. Randall Davidson, who was then chaplain to the Archbishop of Canterbury,
gave considerable attention to this matter, taking, in fact, a leading
part on the Church’s side in the negotiation of which we are writing.
He has expressed to me a very warm admiration for Catherine Booth, describing
her as one of the most remarkable women he ever met, and telling me
that his father, a singularly hard-headed and deep-thinking Scot, after
hearing for the first time one of Catherine Booth’s addresses
at Exeter Hall, said to him, “If ever I am charged with a crime,
don’t bother to engage any of the great lawyers to defend me;
get that woman.”
But the feelings of Dr. Davidson towards William Booth are not so clear
and not so unmixed. He is ready to say that in some respects he misjudged
the man, for he held the opinion in the early ‘eighties that the
work of the Army would not last, and that William Booth would outwear
the patience of the world. He found William Booth, he says, on the whole,
a simple and not very profound person, who was perfectly honest in his
idea of religion, but not altogether unscrupulous in his methods for
advancing that idea.
“He did not give me the impression,” he says, “of
anything like so original and interesting a personality as Catherine
Booth; and even now I think he owed something of his popularity, not
all of course, to his wonderful, his almost magnificent appearance.
But I felt very strongly during those months of our negotiations that
Booth was determined to keep control, and an autocratic control, of
the Army. I was opposed to that. I could see his reasons for desiring
this autocratic control, but I could not possibly bring myself to support
so dangerous a policy.
He certainly gave me to understand, and very emphatically, that he did
not seek to establish a new sect, and I felt, whether he was sincere
or not in this particular, that the tide would be too strong for him.
We could not get anything in the nature of control over the organization,
and so we had to let it go.”
In an article published in The Contemporary Review for August, 1882,
Dr. Davidson criticised the Army with singular ability, and not unfairly,
but he paid a generous tribute at the same time to the sincerity and
devotion of its Soldiers:
Whatever
be their errors in doctrine or in practice, I can only say that, after
attending a large number of meetings of different kinds in various parts
of London, I thank God from my heart that He has raised up to proclaim
His message of Salvation the men and the women who are now guiding the
Army’s work, and whose power of appealing to the hearts of their
hearers is a gift from the Lord Himself.
I am sorry for the Christian teacher, be he cleric or layman, who has
listened to such addresses as those given by “General” Booth,
Mrs. Booth, and by some five or six at least of their “staff officers,”
who has not asked for help that he may speak his message with the like
straightforward ability and earnest zeal.
Canon
Farrar of Westminster, who was later on to become one of the Army’s
greatest champions, was at this time one of its severest critics. “Can
they not see how fatal it must be to some natures,” he asked in
an Abbey sermon, “thus to wear their hearts upon their sleeves?
—thus to drag the course of their spiritual life out of the gracious
shadows wherein God leaves them?”
Whether he ever looked in the slums of uttermost brutality for these
“gracious shadows” I do not know, but I am perfectly certain
that he might have preached all his sermons to the broken wreckage of
East London without changing a single heart, without restoring a single
soul.
He spoke of the Salvationist’s “grotesque and irreverent
phraseology, calculated quite needlessly to disgust and repel,”
not knowing that any other phraseology must have failed to rouse the
sunken and degraded multitudes of great cities, even as his own somewhat
too florid rhetoric failed to please the discriminating judges of literature.
Dr. Davidson, criticising the Army as he did, quoted in The Contemporary
Review with approval the following document signed by the Mayor and
Sheriff of Newcastleupon-Tyne, by four Members of Parliament, and by
twelve resident magistrates:
We,
the undersigned, while by no means willing to identify ourselves with,
or to defend, all the means and measures used by the Salvation Army
in the prosecution of their efforts for the restoration of the worst
portion of the population to habits of morality, temperance, and religion,
nevertheless feel bound to state that we know they have succeeded in
this town and neighbourhood, not only in gathering together congregations
of such as never previously attended religious services, but in effecting
a marked and indisputable change in the lives of many of the worst characters.
We are therefore strongly of opinion that their services ought not to
be left to the mercy of riotous disturbers, but should have the fullest
protection.
“One
clergyman has told me,” he wrote, “that two whole streets
in his parish, which were once ‘a very den of thieves,’
have become quiet and comparatively respectable since the Salvation
Army opened fire upon them.”
In spite of very strong and uncompromising criticism, this article shows
that a section of the Church was watching the new movement with genuine
admiration and sincere sympathy, although in the autocracy of William
Booth she saw a sovran danger, and in some of the excesses and exuberances
of the converts she saw matter for profound regret. But towards the
end of the article, Dr. Davidson hinted at the main obstacle to any
real alliance between the Church and the Army. He wrote:
In
abstaining carefully from doctrinal questions, I have precluded myself
from reference even to so vital a point as the Army’s position with
respect to the Sacraments of Christ. That question, about which there
seems still to be much uncertainty in the Army’s councils, must
be dealt with soon and firmly, if the Church is to extend active sympathy
to the Army as a whole.
Cardinal Manning, it is instructive to find, shared with
Dr. Randall Davidson the impression that William Booth, protest as he
might, was bound to set up a new Church.
Mr.
Booth (he wrote) declares his firm resolve the Salvation Army shall never
become a sect. He cites the failure of John Wesley in his attempt to maintain
an unsectarian position.
The meaning of this would seem to be that the aim of the Salvation Army
is to promote general and personal religion apart from all bodies and,
above all, apart from all controversies. . . . The head of the Salvation
Army is resolved that it shall never become a sect. . . . He seems to
wish that it may not be a sect but a spirit which, like the four winds,
may blow upon all in the Valley of Dry Bones — men, women, children,
sects, communions, and, as he perhaps would say, Churches, quickening
and raising them to a higher life. . . . Nevertheless we have a conviction
that the Salvation Army will either become a sect, or it will melt away.
This world is not the abode of disembodied spirits.
Both
Dr. Randall Davidson and Cardinal Manning complained of the language and
practices of the Army, and it is quite certain that in expressing his
disapprobation of the more fantastic of these things Dr. Davidson was
uttering the mind of his Church as a whole.
One must not forget that some adherents of the Army at this period of
its existence not only did actually commit grievous offences against modesty
and good taste, but that the Army was unfortunate enough to have attributed
to its officials wholesale blasphemies,. obscenities, and immoralities
of a most repellent kind.
Nothing was too bad or too grotesque to be said of this excited and elated
body of converted sinners, and, alas! nothing too incredible to be believed
by many good people.
What direction the diplomacy of William Booth would have taken but for
the constant influence of Bramwell Booth and George Railton, it is impossible
to say; it is fair to assume, however, that without this strong and enthusiastic
influence that diplomacy would have been at least more anxious for a better
understanding with the Church, more patient and adaptable in these fumbled
negotiations.
He was a great hater of controversy; he had few scruples where compromise
might clear the field for action; he held with all the fire and resolution
of his vehement character that nothing was so important as “getting
men saved from their sins.”
Catherine Booth, too, although she permitted herself to utter on occasion
certain caustic remarks concerning the opposition of the Churches, and
although she was by nature and habit a controversialist, and from her
youth up had been hotly opposed to what is called Clericalism, nevertheless
felt that some understanding with the recognized forces of religion would
have been valuable to the cause of the Army; she, too, we think, might
have been brought to consider a compromise. But the influence of the young
men who shared the inner counsels of General and Mrs. Booth was all on
the side of no compromise, all in the direction of their own Salvation
Army offensive against sin, all in the direction of utmost liberty.
They had no sympathy of any kind with the Sacramentalists, they had no
veneration for ecclesiastical tradition, and their one feeling as regards
antiquity was to break utterly free from its somnolent sobriety, its paralysing
dignity, its soul-destroying precedents and formulae, to break free from
all that; not to attack and criticise the Church, but to live with all
the vitality and courage of a present only valuable as it shaped the future.
Influenced by those younger men, themselves urged on by the tide of success
everywhere lifting the Salvation Army into the estimation of men, William
Booth decided not to prosecute his negotiations with the Church of England,
and allowed the matter to end without communicating to the Archbishop
any definite decision.
We find an expression of his views, however, in an article which he wrote
a few years later, on the occasion of Archbishop Benson’s sudden
death at Hawarden:
The
little personal intercourse I was privileged to have with Archbishop Benson,
a few years ago, has rendered his recent sudden decease — taking
place as it did under such graphically impressive circumstances —
of specially solemn interest to me. . .
The Army had at that time [1882] with somewhat startling suddenness, sprung
into public observation — I think I may say public estimation, considering
the kindly sentiments expressed concerning us on every hand—and
the question of Comprehension was being considered by more than one of
the Religious Organizations.
Some of the leading Dignitaries of the National Church were loudly controverting
the wisdom of the course pursued by their forefathers in allowing Wesleyan
Methodism to drift away from the Establishment, and wondering whether
a little patient manoeuvring might not have been successful, not only
in retaining the Wesleys and the Coadjutors within its Fold, but of securing
to the Episcopacy the influence and direction of the immense multitudes
who have since grown up under the Methodist Banner — now far outnumbering
those of the Parent Fold.
Here, it was argued, are another people very similar in object and character,
only still more pronounced and practical, rising up with the promise of
a coming success, which, if not equal to that of the great Methodist Community,
still evidently has in it the germ of a future power and progress very
much like it. Can we not avoid the mistake of the past?
True, we have not the power to shut out from our Churches the leaders
of the Salvation Army, as did the Bishops and Clergy the Methodist leaders
of 150 years ago, seeing that they are not numbered with us, nor do they
seek the use of our Synagogues; still less have we any desire to persecute
them. But can we not manage by a little kindly attention to take them
in, so not only ensuring to them the benefits of our Episcopal supervision.
but securing for ourselves the advantages growing out of their enthusiastic
zeal.
With such feelings — highly honourable to the leaders of the Church
of England, set forth at the time in their literature, at gatherings of
the Clergy, and in other ways ---- the late Archbishop (then Bishop of
Truro), with the Bishop of Durham (then Canon Westcott), sought, by their
own request, an interview with me, which took place at our Headquarters,
Queen Victoria Street.
The possibility of a union between the Salvation Army and the Church,
or the attachment of the Army to the Church in some form which would mean
the same thing, was the topic. And the patient, thoughtful, and I may
say respectful, manner in which the subject was argued by my distinguished
visitors made that conversation to me for ever a pleasant memory. The
beautiful spirit of enquiry manifested on the part of Canon Westcott especially
impressed me.
The conditions of the Union desired, on the part of the Army as set forth,
were simple as simplicity itself. Whatever might have been felt necessary
on closer investigation to the maintenance of the Union, nothing was asked
beyond an open recognition of our connection with the Church, and the
regular attendance by each Corps at the Parish Church, or at an authorized
service in some other consecrated building, say at regular intervals,
wkly. or once a month, and that, to meet the requirements of our particular
work, it was suggested, might be at an early hour, say eight o’clock.
At such times it was remarked that it would be quite admissible for the
Army to march up to the Church-doors with bands playing and banners flying,
as was our custom to our own Barracks. Indeed, invited by friendly Clergymen
in various parts of the country, our people were at that time actually
attending different Churches in this fashion. I don’t recollect
whether the partaking of what is known as the (ordinance of) Lord’s
Supper at this service was named, but I think it is probable that it would
be.
Anyway, I know there was the distinct understanding that we should be
left at perfect liberty at all other times to carry on our own work in
our own way. There was to be no interference with our Government or our
Methods. We were to be the Salvation Army to all intents and purposes,
as we were then, with this addition only — we were to be the Church
Salvation Army.
Here the difficulties likely to be experienced by our Soldiers in Churches
where a High Ritual form of service was in force occurred to my mind,
and I suggested that the bulk of our people would be found either totally
ignorant of the supposed benefits flowing out of the use of images, candles,
crucifixes, vestments, or of almost any of the numerous forms and ceremonials
practised in many Churches, or they would be found very strongly opposed
to them.
On my mentioning this difficulty, and asking how it could be met, Doctor
Benson suggested for our imitation his own custom under such circumstances.
He said that when in the performance of his duty he came to a church where
the manner of the service was not in harmony with his own views on such
matters, he simply did the work for which he was present to the best of
his ability, regarding the responsibility for the surrounding furniture
and usages as resting upon the shoulders of those who were responsible
for that particular church.
The Ordinance of the Lord’s Supper and our attitude towards it was
talked over in a thoughtful, though summary manner. On my remarking that
I did not hold the partaking of the Ordinance to be essential to Salvation,
and that I believe no thoughtful Christian would shut us out of the Pale
of Salvation here, or close the Gates of Heaven against us hereafter,
because we had not been regular partakers of that Ordinance, his Lordship,
while appearing to assent to this statement, remarked that, apart from
that bearing of the subject, he thought that the sincere Churchman derived
a great blessing from joining in that particular service.
To this I of course assented, but enquired whether this blessing was not
consequent upon the exercise of faith in the sacrifice of the Cross which
it set forth. “Yes!” the Archbishop answered, “but I
think there is a blessing peculiar to this Ordinance; something above
and beyond anything that is realized in any other religious service.”
To this I again enquired whether this peculiar blessing of which his Lordship
spoke could not be traced to the fact that a peculiar measure of faith
and devotion was called forth by that particular ceremonial. To which
it was again answered, that apart from any such special exercises on the
part of the worshipper, God, he thought, had connected a special impartation
of His presence and blessing with this particular service.
What appeared to be the natural answer to this observation at once came
to my mind, but perceiving that to pursue the conversation on this line
would be likely to carry us into the region of controversy, I did not
continue it.
On other difficulties being mentioned, one of my Visitors — I forget
which — made the obvious remark that it was all but impossible to
conceive that there could be any insuperable difficulties in the way of
the Church extending her recognition to the Salvation Army, when she was
able to comprehend the High Church, with its extravagant ritual on the
one hand, and the Broad Church, with its semi-scepticism on the other.
Much more passed — in which the spirit manifested by my Visitors
was, I thought, very commendable — which I cannot call tip at the
moment, and I am sorry to be unable to lay my hand upon the record of
the conversation which I must have made at the time; but I do recollect
very well the conclusion to which I was compelled to arrive, and which
I remember stating in something like the following words, at the close
of the interview: That while appreciating the sympathy of my friends,
for which I was deeply grateful, and their worthy wishes to avoid the
establishment of another separate Religious Organization, with which I
heartily concurred, I was afraid the Union we had been discussing was
simply impossible at the present date. In the earlier history of the Army
it was a thing that might have been.
A few years back, I strove hard and long to connect the Army with some
existing Organization, but utterly failed. Now it seemed that the Providence
of God, the convictions and feelings of our people (which I was bound
to regard), and the whole circumstances of the case, seemed to indicate
that the spirit of union — which was the next best thing to actual
Union itself — would be most effectually attained by the two Bodies
continuing to live and work apart, their labours and influences flowing
on side by side, like two distinct streams, with bridges connecting each
at frequent intervals (my figure here became a little mixed, I fear, but
the meaning was clear), over which the leading spirits of both Organizations
might often pass and repass with mutual sympathy, prayer, and co-operation.
On an occasion of some interest, I had the pleasure of meeting the Archbishop
again. To that interview I will not refer now. On earth I shall meet him
no more. The time, however, may not be very far distant when the Union
he desired may be consummated in another world.
Dr. Benson impressed me as being before all else a Churchman. He believed
in his own concern. Here, at least, we were on equal terms. I believed
then, and more than ever I believe to-day, in mine.
It
may be said, we think, that the Church of England missed an almost priceless
opportunity when she let these negotiations fall to the ground. For, impossible
as those negotiations were from the point of view of absorption or amalgamation,
impossible too, as they were, from the point of view of an immediate alliance,
they did undoubtedly present to the Church an opportunity for establishing
a cordial understanding with the Salvation Army which might have developed
with the evolution of time into a real alliance.
Unhappily, the Church stood upon doctrinal and ceremonial ground, and
praising here, admiring there, hut criticising as a whole, made no movement
of opening her arms to embrace and bless these simple apostles of the
poor. Much good might have flowed from one annual Salvation Army Service
in St. Paul’s Cathedral, from constant consultation with William
Booth in matters of evangelical concern, and from frank and generous recognition
of the Salvation Army as an essential branch of the Christian Brotherhood,
even if it were necessary to proclaim the fundamental difference in doctrine.
But the Army at that time was giving grave offence, judicious observers
thought that it would not endure, and the Church herself was now sending
out a rival army under ecclesiastical direction to cover the same field.
In these circumstances, and as the General did not prosecute the negotiations,
the Church allowed the matter to drop, and one more division was made
in the suffering and dismembered body of Christendom.
That individual clergyman longed for some such recognition may be gathered
from the following letter, which may be taken as an example of many others,
to William Booth, written in 1885 by the Rev. D. B. Hankin, Vicar of St.
Jude’s, Mildmay Grove:
.
. . I was at the Prince’s Hall Meeting on Tuesday morning and could
only bow my head and weep for very shame —tho’ at the same
time I rejoiced at the glorious wave of spiritual power now issuing from
the S.A., which has carried to the front a subject which has so persistently
been kept in the background until now.
. . . But oh! I do so wish that you were in communion with the Church
of England!!! Your liberty of action perfectly free and untrammelled —
but your people on special occasions meeting in their own Churches!
Canon
Liddon, who disliked the excesses of the Army as much as any man, nevertheless
lamented the failure of these negotiations. But the General had his growing
Army to direct, and the Church had her thousand activities to pursue;
the General had his autocracy to guard, and the Church had her dignity
to preserve.
Negotiations, hopeless for any immediate benefit, but full of hope for
future blessing, slid out of hands too busy for the patient work of diplomacy,
and William Booth, protesting that he was no sectarian, continued to organize
on his own lines (and under his uncompromising government) the most world-wide
of all evangelistic agencies.
In 1886 he wrote to his wife from Bristol: “Their great point with
outsiders is the old one which every one knows, that I am Pope. But that
will wear out, because the continued success makes people think and feel
that for me it answers and cannot be much condemned.”
He was not a diplomatist of the first order, and if he had been a diplomatist
of any order at all it is perhaps doubtful whether he would have found
men in almost every nation under heaven ready to give their lives for
the message he commanded them to preach.