Catherine Booth
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Colonel Mildred Duff >> Catherine Booth
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A few days later Catherine and her mother were spending the evening with
a friend, when the very same preacher came in, and was introduced to them
as the Rev. William Booth.
Catherine knew they had one subject in common--love for souls; but before
the evening ended she discovered that the young minister was quite as
earnest as she was herself in fighting the Drink curse and all that was
connected with it.
A few Sundays later Mr. Booth preached again in the same building, this
time as the minister, or, as we should say, 'Officer in charge,' and no
longer as a Special. And now you will guess that the two often met, and
that, because they had so many interests in common, they soon learned to
know each other well, till respect grew into friendship, and friendship
into love.
Catherine was at this time twenty-two years old, and Mr. Booth was three
months younger; but, though you would have said they were old enough to
know their own minds, they did nothing hastily, and would enter into no
engagement till they were quite sure of God's Will in the matter.
Had Catherine ever before thought of the day when she would get married?
you, perhaps, ask. Oh, yes, indeed, and when but a girl of sixteen--
directly, in fact, after she was saved--she settled in her own heart what
sort of a man her future husband must be. First, she decided, he must be
truly converted, and a total abstainer, not to please her, but from his
own choice. Then he must be a man of sense, or she could never respect
him; and, if they were to be happy, they must feel and think alike on all
important matters.
Ah, if our women-Soldiers and Cadets to-day would but follow our Army
Mother's example, there would be fewer unhappy marriages and wrecked
lives!
But in her secret heart Catherine had also, girl-like, some ideas about
the sort of man she would like to marry, if she might choose. He should
be a minister--that was the nearest she could get to an Officer in those
days; William was a name she particularly liked, and--if only he might be
tall and dark! If you had been there when Katie Mumford first listened to
his preaching you would have seen that he was 'tall and dark' indeed.
But though William Booth loved Catherine with a deep and holy love, which
increased each time they met, yet he was very poor, and he wondered if he
ought, under the circumstances, to ask her to share his lot. He wrote a
letter to her, telling her how perplexed and troubled he was, and her
answer shows us that, right from the very earliest days, before they were
even engaged, her one desire was that his soul should prosper.
'My dear friend,' she begins ... 'The thought that I should cause you any
suffering or increase your perplexity is almost unbearable. I am tempted
to wish that we had never seen each other. Do try to forget me, as far as
the remembrance would injure your usefulness or spoil your peace. If I
have no alternative but to oppose the Will of God, or trample on the
desolations of my own heart, _my choice is made_. "Thy will be done"
is my constant cry. I care not for myself; but Oh, if I cause you to err,
I shall never be happy again.'
It was not the fear of poverty that frightened her, for a few days later
she says:--
'I fear you did not fully understand my difficulty. It was not
circumstances. I thought I had assured you that a bright prospect would
not allure me, nor a dark one affright me, if only we are _one in
heart_.
My only reason for wishing to defer the engagement was that _you_
might feel satisfied in your mind that the step is right.... If you are
convinced on this point, let circumstances go, and let us be one, come
what may.'
This is exactly what they did, and after meeting, and together
consecrating their lives to God, they solemnly pledged themselves to each
other.
And now began a three-years' engagement, in which, though often for long
months at a time they never met, they remained true to each other and to
God, in thought and word and deed.
Many of the beautiful letters that our Army Mother wrote to The General
at this time, I am glad to tell you, have been kept, and we will look
together at some of the ways in which she tried to help and cheer him.
In the first letter after their engagement she ends with these words:--
'The more you lead me up to Christ in all things, the more highly shall I
esteem you; and if it be possible to love you more than I do now, the
more shall I love you. You are always present in my thoughts.'
Now you must not think that, even in these early days, our General had a
very easy life. He was often much perplexed and troubled, longing above
all to do God's Will for the Salvation of the people, and yet not quite
sure what that Will was. At these times Catherine was of untold help to
him.
Once he was very unsettled--not certain whether he should remain away in
the North of England, or accept a place in London, where the two could
often meet. Most girls would have said, 'Oh, come, then we shall be near
to each other'; but you will see that her advice to him is just as
suitable for you when you are not certain of your duty--that she does not
consider her own feelings at all.
'I wish,' she writes, 'you prayed more and talked less about the matter.
Try it, and be determined to get clear and settled views as to your
course. Leave your heart before God, and get satisfied in His sight, and
then do it, be it what it may. I cannot bear the idea of your being
unhappy. Pray do in this as you feel in your soul it will be right. My
conscience is no standard for yours.'
Then she adds, lower down:--
'Oh, if you come to London, let us be determined to reap a blessed
harvest. Let our fellowship be sanctified to our souls' everlasting good.
My mind is made up to do my part towards it. I hope to be firm as a rock
on some points. The Lord help me. We must aim to improve each other's
mind and character. Let us pray for grace to do it in the best way and to
the fullest extent possible.'
'Anyway,' she says, a day or two later--and ever remember her words when
outside things try and distress you--'don't let the controversy hurt your
soul. Live near to God by prayer.... You believe He answers prayer. Then
take courage. Just fall down at His feet, and open your very soul before
Him, and throw yourself right into His arms. Tell Him that if you are
wrong you only wait to be set right, and, be the path rough or smooth,
you will walk in it.
'Oh, you must live close to God! If you are a greater distance from Him
than you were, just stop the whirl of outward things, or rather leave it,
and shut yourself up with Him till all is clear and bright upwards. Do,
there's a dear. Oh, how much we lose by not coming to the point. Now, at
once, realize your union with Christ, and trust Him to lead you through
this perplexity. Bless you. Excuse this advice. I am anxious for your
soul. Look up. If God hears my prayers, He must guide you--He will guide
you.'
In these early days our General was tempted, as some of us are tempted
to-day, to feel nervous and shy when talking before large crowds, and
where the people were better dressed and better off than usual. He wrote
his feelings to Catherine, and she sends him back her wise advice and
help. 'I am sorry for this,' she says, 'and am persuaded it is the fear
of man which shackles you. Do not give place to this feeling. Remember
you are _the_ Lord's servant, and if you are a faithful one it will
be a small matter with you to be judged of man's judgment. Let nothing be
wanting beforehand to make what you say helpful, but when you are before
the people try to think only of your own responsibility to Him who hath
sent you.'
Again, later, she writes:--
'Try and cast off the fear of man. Fix your eyes simply on the glory of
God, and care not for frown or praise of man. Rest not till your soul is
fully alive to God.' How truly she herself carried this out in her own
Meetings you will hear later on.
Miss Mumford was very anxious that The General should improve himself
with plenty of hard work. She saw what he might become, and she also knew
that unless he did _his_ part all those wonderful powers which God
had lent to him would be thrown away.
'Do assure me,' she writes, 'my own dear William, that no want of energy
or effort on your part shall hinder the improvement of those talents God
has given you.'
So that, with his constant travelling and preaching, he might get time to
read and think and learn, she suggested a little plan to him in his
billets.
'Could you not,' she says, 'provide yourself with a small leather bag or
case, large enough to hold your Bible and any other book you might
require--pens, ink, paper and a candle? And, presuming that you generally
have a room to yourself, could you not rise by six o'clock every morning,
and convert your bedroom into a study till breakfast time?... I hope, my
dearest love, you will consider this plan, and keep to it, if possible,
as a general practice. Don't let little difficulties prevent your
carrying it out.'
You must remember that at this time neither Catherine nor Mr. Booth ever
dreamed of the wonderful work they were to be called to do. He was then
preaching and getting souls saved, mostly in country places, and had many
a 'hard go,' but _that_ was no reason why he should not improve.
Did The General like this advice and counsel? Or did he feel, as some men
do to-day, that women cannot judge nor understand such things?
Ah! he was wise, and only too glad to have all the help that Catherine
could give him. In fact, he often wrote begging her to help him more. The
outlines for addresses which she sent him weekly he valued and used, as
this letter shows:--
'I have,' he writes, 'just taken hold of that sketch you sent me on "Be
not deceived," and am about to make a full sermon on it. I like it much.
It is admirable.
'I want a sermon on the Flood, one on Jonah, and one on the Judgment.
Send me some bare thoughts, some clear, startling outlines. We must have
that kind of truth which will move sinners.'
But if Catherine Mumford was anxious about the mind and work of her
future husband, much more was she anxious about his soul. To her, there
could be no true love without faithfulness, and where she felt it
necessary, she cautioned him in the truest and tenderest way:--
'You have special need,' she writes, 'for watchfulness and for much
private intercourse with God.
'My dearest love, beware how you indulge that dangerous element of
character, ambition. Misdirected, it will be everlasting ruin to
yourself, and perhaps to me also. Oh, my love, let nothing earthly excite
it; let not the wish to be great fire it. Fix it on the Throne of the
Eternal, and let it find the realization of its loftiest aspirations in
the promotion of His glory, and it shall be consummated with the richest
enjoyments and brightest glories of God's own Heaven.'
You wonder, perhaps, if Catherine ever wrote 'love letters,' as we call
them. She never wrote the foolish and sentimental letters which say a
great deal, and mean very little; but she was able to put her great love
into words strong, intense, and full of tenderness.
'Do I remember?' she asks in one letter. 'Yes, I remember all--all that
has bound us together. All the bright and happy, as well as the clouded
and sorrowful times of our fellowship. Nothing relating to you can time
or place erase from my memory. Your words, your looks, your actions, even
the most trivial and incidental, come up before me as fresh as life. If I
meet a child called William, I am more interested in him than in any
other. Bless you. Keep your spirits up, and hope much for the future. God
lives and loves us, and we shall be one in Him, loving each other as
Christ loved us.'
William Booth and Catherine Mumford were married in London, on June 15,
1855; and here are a few lines from the last letter she wrote to him
before the engagement was ended, and the long thirty-five years of happy
married life began:--
'I long to see you. Your letters do not satisfy the yearnings of my
heart. Perhaps they ought to. I wish it were differently constituted. I
might be much happier. But it _will_ be extravagant and enthusiastic
in spite of all my schooling. If I ever get to Heaven, what rapture shall
I know! No, there is no fear of our loving each other too much. How can
we love each other more than Christ has loved us? And this is the
standard He has given us. What a precious thing is the religion of Jesus!
It makes our first duties our highest happiness. It has the promise of
the life that now is, as well as of that which is to come. We will spend
all our energies in trying to persuade men to receive and practise it.'
How wonderfully she carried this intention into practice, and, together
with The General, lived every moment 'publishing the Sinner's Friend,'
you shall read later on.
IV
A LIFE OF SACRIFICE
'Since I came to the crucifixion of myself, I have not cared much what
men might say of me.'--MRS. BOOTH.
At the time when our Army Mother married The General's work was, as we
have seen, that of an 'Evangelist' or 'Travelling Minister.' He would
stay in a town for some weeks or months, as the case might be, preaching
and holding Meetings, and getting people saved, both in the town itself
and the places round.
It was a blessed and useful life, but very wearying; and we can fancy how
trying it must have been for Mrs. Booth after her marriage not to have
any home of her own, but to billet first in one stranger's house, and
then in another's.
But she did not complain, though we see what it cost her by a letter she
writes to her mother, telling the good news that they are to live in
lodgings while at Sheffield:--
'You cannot think,' she writes, 'with what joy I look forward to being to
ourselves once more. For though I get literally oppressed with kindness,
I must say I would prefer a home where we could sit down together at our
own little table, myself the mistress, and my husband the only guest. But
the work of God so abundantly prospers that I dare not repine, or else I
feel this constant packing and unpacking and staying amongst strangers to
be a great burden, especially while so weak and poorly. But then I have
many mercies and advantages. My precious William is all I desire, and
without this what would the most splendid home be but a glittering
bauble?'
For several years Mrs. Booth travelled in this way from place to place,
helping, cheering, and encouraging her husband in his soul-saving
campaigns. She felt her duty lay here, and even when she had a little son
to care for, she was unwilling to settle down. Writing to her mother, who
urged her to leave off this trying life; or, at any rate, to hand the
baby over to her, she says:--
'My objection to leaving William gets stronger as I see the need he has
of my presence, care, and sympathy; neither is he willing for it himself.
Nor can I make up my mind to parting with Willie.'
Mrs. Booth's object was to be a help to her husband--not a hindrance; to
push him forward in his soul-saving work--not to hold him back; and
therefore, instead of rejoicing, as most wives and mothers would have
done, when a settled home and work were offered him, she was doubtful.
'Personally considered,' she writes to her mother, 'I care nothing about
it. I feel that a good rest in one place will be a boon to us. Anyhow, if
God wills him to be an Evangelist, He will open the way. I find that I
love the work itself far more than I thought I did, and I am willing to
risk something for it.'
After this came several years of great conflict and struggle. The
Conference (or, as we would say, Headquarters) under whom The General
worked did not wish him to continue the great Salvation Campaigns for
which God had so marvellously fitted him. They wanted him to 'settle
down,' and spend perhaps several years in one place like ordinary
ministers.
To please those who were over him he did this, and spent four years in
one town. But though God blessed his efforts, The General was convinced
that he was called to greater things. He loved the sinners; wherever he
went crowds flocked to hear him, and the vilest were converted. Was it
God's will, therefore, that he should sacrifice the work his soul loved,
and 'settle down' into an ordinary life, helping and reaching only the
people of one small city?
This question our Army Mother helped him to decide. Try to picture her
position. She had by this time a family of little children, and her
health was very delicate. By counselling The General to 'settle down,' as
his friends wished him to do, she would have a nice home, a comfortable
income, and, above all, the constant presence of her husband, who would
no longer need to leave her on his long soul-saving tours.
By refusing the position offered, and choosing instead to take up the
'evangelistic life' again, The General turned his back on salary, home,
and work, and went out into the world, with his wife and four children,
friendless and alone. Do you wonder that the struggle was a severe one?
'Pray for me,' she wrote to her mother, when the question was about to be
settled. 'I have many a conflict in regard to the proposed new departure;
not as to our support--I feel as though I can trust the Lord implicitly
for all that; but the Devil tells me I shall never be able to endure the
loneliness and separation of the life. He draws many a picture of most
dark and melancholy shade. But I cling to the promise, "No man hath
forsaken," etc., and, having sworn to my own hurt, may I stand fast. I
have told William that if he takes the step, and it should bring me to
the workhouse, I would never say one upbraiding word. No. To blame him
for making such a sacrifice for God and conscience' sake would be worse
than wicked. So, whatever be the result, I shall make up my mind to
endure it patiently, looking to the Lord for grace and strength.'
But if it was difficult for Mrs. Booth, the path was equally dark and
hard for The General.
'William hesitates,' she writes a few weeks later. 'He thinks of me and
the children, and I appreciate his love and care. But I tell him that God
will provide, if he will only go straight on in the path of duty. It is
strange that I, who always used to shrink from the sacrifice, should be
the first in making it. But when I made the surrender I did it whole-
heartedly, and ever since I have been like another being. Oh, pray for us
yet more and more! We have no money coming in from any quarter now. Nor
has William any invitations at present. The time is unfavourable. I am
much tempted to feel it hard that God has not cleared our path more
satisfactorily. But I will not "charge God foolishly." I know that His
way is often in the whirlwind, and He rides upon the storm: I will try to
possess my soul in patience, and to wait on Him.'
Sometimes you have heard your Officers talking in a Meeting, and telling
the people that, if they will but step out in faith, and do right, God
will open up the way for them. The example of our General and Army Mother
has taught us this lesson, for few ever took a step of faith into greater
darkness and difficulty than they did at this time.
'My dearest,' writes Mrs. Booth to her mother, 'is starting for London.
Pray for him. He is much harassed. But I have promised to keep a brave
heart. At times it appears to me that God may have something very
glorious in store for us, and when He has tried us He will bring us forth
as gold. It will not be the first time I have taken a leap in the dark,
humanly speaking, for conscience' sake.'
It was, indeed, a 'leap in the dark': to break up their little home in
the North, and, travelling by boat, to save expense, to bring their four
children to Mrs. Mumford's house in London. There they separated: the
father and mother went to Cornwall, to hold a Salvation campaign in a
little chapel that had been lent to them, and the children remained
behind.
Of the marvellous way in which God blessed the Cornish work, I cannot
stop to tell you. Mrs. Booth's name as a preacher was by this time
becoming as widely known as that of her husband; and they went from one
place to another, at first together, and then, afterwards, separately, so
as to be able to do more good, for four long years.
Whenever possible, our Army Mother took her children with her: she never
left them to others when she could help it, and later on I shall tell you
what a devoted and tender mother she was; but the strain of those four
long years no one will ever know. I want you to see the dark as well as
the bright side of her wonderful life; and here is part of a letter to
her mother, written at that time:--
'I feel dreadfully unsettled at present. I don't like this mode of living
at all. William has now been away from home, except on Friday and
Saturday, for twelve weeks. I long to get fixed together again once more.
The going backwards and forwards and being in other people's houses does
not suit William. Nor do I like leaving home for the Sabbaths. I am much
tempted to look gloomily towards the future. But "my heart is fixed." "I
will trust, and not be afraid."'
Then again, a little later on:--
'Pray for me. I sometimes feel as though I had taken a path which is too
hard for me, and duties too heavy for me to perform; but it is my
privilege to say, and to feel, "I can do all things through Christ which
strengtheneth me."'
Once again she says:--
'Well, the Lord help us to be faithful to our convictions, even in the
dark and cloudy day! I have felt it hard work to do so lately. Many a
time have I longed to be where the weary are at rest.
'Well, we must labour and wait a little longer; it may be that the clouds
will break, and surround us with sunshine. Anyway, God lives above the
clouds, and He will direct our path.'
The General and Mrs. Booth were holding Salvation services in London when
our Army Mother was called to make a fresh sacrifice, never dreaming of
the wonderful results that would spring from it. You shall read about it
in her own words, spoken many years afterwards:--
'I remember well,' she says, 'when The General decided at last to give up
the evangelistic life and to devote himself to the Salvation of the East-
Enders. He had come home from a Meeting one night, tired out, as usual.
It was between eleven and twelve o'clock. Flinging himself into an easy
chair, he said to me, "O Kate, as I passed by the doors of the flaming
gin-palaces to-night I seemed to hear a voice sounding in my ears, 'Where
can you go and find such heathen as these, and where is there so great a
need for your labours?' And I felt as though I ought at every cost to
stop and preach to these East-End crowds."
'I remember the emotion that this produced in my soul. I sat gazing into
the fire, and the Devil whispered to me, "This means another new
departure--another start in life."
'The question of our support I saw at once to be a serious difficulty.
Hitherto we had been able to meet our expenses by the collections which
we had made from our respectable audiences. But it was impossible to
suppose that we could do so among the poverty-stricken East-Enders. We
did not then see things as we do to-day. We were afraid even to ask for a
collection among the East London crowds.
'Nevertheless, I did not answer discouragingly. After a moment's pause
for thought and prayer, I answered, "Well, if you feel you ought to stay,
stay. We have trusted the Lord once for our support, and we can trust Him
again."'
Mrs. Booth, when she answered like this, had no idea of all that was to
follow. She never dreamt that, from The General's standing alone in
Whitechapel, a mighty wave of Salvation would sweep over the earth, nor
that God was about to raise up an Army of which she and The General were
to be the leaders.
But, as always before, she willingly agreed to whatever would be for
God's glory and the Salvation of souls; and we all know to-day how, from
that little Whitechapel beginning, grew the Christian Mission, and how,
at last, the Christian Mission became The Salvation Army.
Do not think, however, that our dear Army Mother's consecration stopped
here! No, indeed. One by one, as they became old enough, she gave up her
children to the Work, and we shall never know all we owe as an Army to
her beautiful spirit of devotion and sacrifice.
Let us stand together by her open grave in the autumn twilight. Her
twenty-six years of fight and toil in The Salvation Army are over now,
her spirit has been summoned Home. Listen. The Army Founder himself is
the speaker. He is recalling the forty years which he and our dear Army
Mother had trod together, and his words sum up better than any other
words could do what she was to our Leader:--
'If you had had a tree,' he said, speaking to the vast crowd that stood
round the grave, 'that had grown up in your garden, under your window,
which for forty years had been your shadow from the burning sun, whose
flowers had been the adornment and beauty of your life, whose fruit had
been almost the stay of your existence, and the gardener had come along
and swung his glittering axe and cut it down before your eyes, I think
you would feel as though you had a blank--it might not be a big one--but
a little blank in your life.
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