the days of my life-第69章

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I　found　the　Irish　the　most　charming　and　attractive　people　that　I　have　ever　met　and　the　most　inprehensible。　What　rather　disgusted　me；　however；　was　the　mendicant　attitude　of　mind　which　again　and　again　I　observed　among　those　who　gave　evidence　before　us。　They　all　wanted　something　out　of　the　Government；　and　generally　something　for　nothing。　I　remember　growing　enraged　with　one　witness；　a　most　shameless　beggar；　and　saying　to　him；　“The　fact　is；　sir；　that　after　the　British　Government　has　given　you　the　horse；　you　expect　that　they　should　feed　it　also。”
“Shure；　your　Honour！”　he　answered；　quite　unperturbed；　or　words　to　that　effect。
As　I　was　dressing　one　morning　at　a　Cork　hotel；　I　received　a　telegram　informing　me　that　King　Edward　had　died　during　the　night。　We　did　not　leave　Cork　till　ten　or　eleven　o’clock；　but　up　to　that　hour；　although　the　news　was　well　known；　I　saw　no　indication　of　public　mourning。　No　bells　were　rung；　and　no　flags　flew　at　half…mast。　This　may　have　been　mere　carelessness；　or　it　may　have　been　—　something　else。　That　day；　when　stopping　under　a　tree　to　shelter　from　a　heavy　shower；　I　fell　into　conversation　with　an　Irish　farmer　of　the　humorous　type；　and　told　him　the　sad　intelligence。　He　reflected　for　a　moment；　then　said；　“Is　that　so；　your　Honour？　Well；　he’s　gone！　Let’s　thank　God　and　the　saints　it　isn’t　us！”
On　the　other　hand；　the　same　tidings　moved　an　old　woman　in　a　wretched　shanty　in　Connemara　literally　to　tears。
“And　it’s　dead　he　is；”　she　said　to　me。　“Shure；　he　was　a　grand　man！　Never　a　week　but　he　sent　me　five　shillings　with　his　own　name　to　it。”
Further　queries　elicited　the　fact　that　this　old　lady　believed　that　his　late　Majesty　personally　posted　to　her　five　shillings　each　Monday　morning；　which　she　drew　at　the　Post　Office　in　the　shape　of　an　Old　Age　Pension！　Hence　her　loyal　soul。
On　my　return　to　London　I　saw　King　Edward’s　body　lying　in　state　in　Westminster　Hall；　and　afterwards　watched　the　noble　panorama　of　his　funeral　from　the　upper　balcony　of　the　Athenaeum。　Thomas　Hardy　and　I　sat　together；　there　were；　I　remember；　but　few　in　the　club。
The　great　military　pageant　of　the　passing　of　the　mortal　remains　of　King　Edward　brought　back　to　my　mind　that　of　the　burial　of　Queen　Victoria。　This　I　saw　from　the　house　of　one　of　the　minor　Canons；　which　was　exactly　opposite　to　the　steps　of　the　Chapel　at　Windsor。　The　sight　of　the　gorgeous　procession　passing　up　those　steps　impressed　itself　very　deeply　on　me。　The　bearers　staggering　under　the　weight　of　the　massive　leaden　coffin　that　yet　seemed　so　short；　till　once　or　twice　I　thought　that　they　must　fall；　the　cloaked　King　Edward　walking　immediately　behind；　followed　by　a　galaxy　of　princes；　the　officer；　or　aide…decamp；　who　came　to　him；　saluting；　to　make　some　report　or　ask　some　order；　and　received　a　nod　in　answer；　the　troops　with　arms　reversed；　the　boom　of　the　solemn　guns；　the　silent；　watching　multitude；　the　bright　sun　gilding　the　wintry　scene；　the　wind　that　tossed　the　plumes　and　draperies　—　all　these　and　more　made　a　picture　never　to　be　forgotten。　And　now；　after　a　few　brief　years；　the　mourning　monarch　who　formed　its　central；　living　figure　passed　by　in　another　coffin；　himself　the　mourned！
A　few　days　after　the　funeral　I　met　at　dinner　one　of　the　physicians　who　attended　the　late　King　during　his　last　illness。　He　told　me　that　he　did　not　think　that　His　Majesty　knew　he　was　dying；　and　that　no　one　informed　him。　He　thought　that　the　King　believed　that　he　would　pull　through；　as　he　had　often　done　before。　When　it　was　suggested　to　him　that　he　had　better　not　see　people；　he　answered；　“It　amuses　me；”　and　that　he　did　not　want　any　“fuss。”　This　doctor　was　of　opinion　that　there　was　nothing　in　the　story　that　the　King　had　worried　himself　over　the　political　situation；　as　he　was　“not　that　sort　of　man。”　He　died　because　his　heart　was　worn　out；　for　he　had　“warmed　both　hands　at　the　fire　of　life。”　He　did　not　seem　to　be　spiritually　troubled　in　any　way；　though　he　kept　“all　the　forms。”　He　added　that　on　the　day　he　died　the　King　smoked　a　cigar。
Whilst　I　was　still　engaged　upon　this　mission　I　undertook　another　piece　of　work。　One　day　General　Booth　sent　an　officer　to　me　to　ask　if　I　would　write　a　report　upon　the　social　efforts　and　institutions　of　the　Salvation　Army；　for　which　it　would　be　prepared　to　pay　a　fee；　to　be　arranged。　I　answered　that　I　had　no　time；　and　that　in　any　case　I　would　not　touch　their　money。　Ultimately；　however；　I　made　the　time　and　undertook　the　task　as　a　labour　of　love；　on　the　condition　that　they　should　pay　the　out…of…pocket　expenses。　It　took　me　about　three　months　in　all；　including　the　travelling　to　various　cities　in　England　and　Scotland；　and　as　a　result　I　published　my　book；　“Regeneration；”　of　the　copyright　of　which　I　made　the　Army　a　present。　I　do　not　suppose　that　this　has　proved　a　valuable　gift；　as；　to　find　a　large　sale；　such　books　must　be　of　the　ultra…“sensational”　order；　which　mine　was　not。
I　saw　much　of　human　misery　in　the　course　of　that　business；　in　which　I　was　assisted　by　my　friend；　Mr。　D。　R。　Daniel；　one　of　the　secretaries　of　the　Royal　mission。　But　all　of　this　is　recorded　in　the　pages　of　the　book；　so　I　need　not　dwell　upon　it　here。　I　emerged　from　this　work　with　a　most　whole…hearted　admiration　for　the　Salvation　Army　and　its　splendid；　self…sacrificing　labours　among　the　lowest　of　the　low。　Its　success　with　these；　where　so　many　have　failed；　remains　something　of　a　mystery　to　my　mind；　which　I　can　only　explain　by　a　belief　that　it　is　aided　through　the　agency　of　the　Power　above　us。　Nothing　else　will　account　for　the　transformations　it　effects　in　the　natures　of　utterly　degraded　men　and　women。　Long　may　it　endure　and　prosper！
I　have　known　General　Booth　for　many　years；　my　first　interview　with　him；　one　of　great　interest；　is　printed　verbatim　in　“Rural　England。”　We　were　always　the　best　of　friends；　perhaps　because　I　was　never　afraid　of　him；　as　seemed　to　be　the　case　with　so　many　of　those　by　whom　he　was　surrounded；　and　was　always　ready　to　give　him　a　Roland　for　his　Oliver　in　the　way　of　what　is　known　as　chaff。　I　have　seen　him　under　sundry　conditions；　of　which；　perhaps；　the　funniest　was　the　following。　One　day；　after　he　had　been　holding　a　great　meeting　for　City　men　in　London；　at　which　I　was　present；　I　took　a　gentleman　to　visit　him　who　I　thought　might　be　able　to　help　his　cause。　We　found　him　at　his　office　in　Queen　Victoria　Street；　stripped　to　his　red　Salvation　jersey；　streaming　with　perspiration；　and　very　cross　because　his　tea；　or　whatever　the　meal　was　called；　was　not　ready。　He　was　calling　out；　officers　were　flying　here　and　there；　some　one　was　trying　to　soothe　him；　and　so　on。　At　length　the　meal　arrived；　consisting　of　a　huge　dish　of　mushrooms　and　a　pot　of　strong　tea。　Contemplating　this　bination　of　fungi　and　tannin；　I　remarked　that　never　before　had　I　understood　the　height　and　depth　and　breadth　of　his　faith　in　the　heavenly　protection。
This　reminds　me　of　a　story　which　Captain　Wright；　a　member　of　the　Salvation　Army　who　acted　as　one　of　my　secretaries　in　America；　told　me　of　the　General’s　peculiar　diet。　Wright　was　travelling　with　him　when　he　was　tearing　round　the　States　preaching　in　the　great　cities。　At　that　time　his　fancy　was　to　eat　two　boiled　Spanish　onions　before　he　went　to　rest；　and　it　was　Wright’s　business　to　see　that　those　onions　were　there。　One　unlucky　night；　however；　after　a　particularly　exhausting　meeting　they　arrived　at　the　hotel；　where　all　the　attendants　had　gone　to　bed；　to　find　two　very　massive　onions　reposing　on　the　plate　as　usual；　but　just　as　they　had　left；　not　the　saucepan；　but　their　mother　earth！
Of　the　row　that　ensued　the　captain　spoke　to　me　in　the　hushed　voice　of　awe。31
30　General　Booth　said　to　me　—　more　than　once：　“Ah！　but　you　would　look　grand　in　my　uniform。”　Whereto　I　would　reply　quite　truly　that　I　was　not　fit　to　wear　that　wedding　garment；　or　words　to　that　effect。　—　H。　R。　H。
The　old　General　wrote　as　follows　about　my　book；　“Regeneration。”　The　letter　is　a　very　good　specimen　of　his　fine；　bold　handwriting；　although　at　that　time　his　sight　was　already　feeble。
International　Headquarters；
London；　E。C。：　December　10；　1910。
My　dear　Rider　Haggard；　—　I　have　just　read　“Regeneration。”　It　is　admirable。　You　have　not　only　seen　into　the　character　and　purpose　of　the　work　we　are　trying　to　do；　with　the　insight　of　a　true　genius；　but　with　the　sympathy　of　a　big　and　generous　soul。　From　my　heart　I　thank　you。
May　the　blessing　of　the　living　God　rest　upon　you；　and　on　Mrs。　Haggard　and　on　your　daughters；　both　for　this　life　and　the　life　to　e。
Believe　me；
Yours　very　sincerely；
William　Booth。
Rider　Haggard；　Esq。；　J。P。
On　May　20；　1912；　the　General　wrote　to　me；　saying　that　he　was　to　undergo　at　once　an　operation　for　cataract　on　his　remaining　eye；　one　being　already　blind。
The　signature　to　this　touching　letter；　written　just　before　his　last　illness；　for　death　followed　on　the　heels　of　that　operation；　is　somewhat　irregular；　for　then　he　was　practically　blind；　but　still　in　the　old　firm　handwriting。　Three　months　later　to　the　day　he　died；　and　I　received　the　following　telegram；　dated　21st　August：
With　deepest　sorrow　I　have　to　announce　the　General　laid　down　his　sword　at　10。15　last　night。　Pray　for　us。
Bramwell　Booth。
So　William　Booth　passed　away。　If　there　is　any　regard　elsewhere　for　the　deeds　of　good　men；　his　should　be　great。　Here　on　earth　he　has　built　himself　a　monument　of　thousands　of　regenerated　hearts。　Why；　I　wonder；　was　burial　in　Westminster　Abbey　not　offered　for　his　remains？　I　suppose　the　answer　is　—　because　he　did　not　belong　to　the　Church　of　England。　Yet　if　the　Abbey　can　open　its　ancient　doors　to　those　who　amused　many　of　the　people　—　eminent　actors；　for　instance　—　it　seems　hard　that　these　should　be　closed　to　one　who　saved　so　many　of　the　people；　and　in　all　lands。
The　book　“Regeneration”　was　extremely　well　reviewed　by　scores　of　papers；　both　here　and　in　other　countries；　especially　in　America；　thus　I　remember　The　Times　gave　it　a　leading　article。　I　only　saw　two　indifferent　notices　of　it　—　in　Church　of　England　journals　—　and　these　were　aimed　more　at　the　Salvation　Army　than　at　the　work　itself。
In　my　time　I　have　done　one　or　two　little　pieces　of　writing　for　somewhat　similar　objects。　Thus　many　years　ago　I　was　responsible　for　a　pamphlet　called　“Church　and　State；”　which　I　posed　in　defence　of　the　Established　Church　of　Wales　that　was　then；　as　now；　threatened　with　disendowment。　This　was　undertaken　at　the　request　of　the　late　Edward　Benson；　Archbishop　of　Canterbury；　who　wrote　to　me　at　some　length　in　August　1894；　giving　me　the　various　points　on　which　he　thought　stress　should　be　laid。
The　pamphlet　was　written　in　due　course　and　approved　of　by　the　Archbishop；　who　wrote　to　me　in　November　of　the　same　year：
I　must　give　you　my　cordial　thanks　—　in　the　name　of　all　interested　—　and　they　are　Legion　—　for　your　admirable　and　telling　paper。　It　is　presumptuous　in　me　to　use　epithets。　。　。　。　We　are　all　very　grateful　to　you。
I　never　spoke　to　Archbishop　Benson；　although　I　often　saw　him　at　the　Athenaeum。　Indeed　one　night　we　dined　next　to　each　other　at　separate　tables　and　alone。　I　remember　that　I　was　tempted　to　address　him；　for　he　did　not　know　me　by　face；　but；　remembering　that　busy　men　seldom　like　to　be　troubled　at　their　rest　by　strangers；　I　refrained。　So　the　opportunity　went　by；　for　which　I　am　sorry；　as　I　should　have　liked　to　make　the　personal　acquaintance　of　this　good　and　very　earnest　prelate。
I　have　always　thought　that　he　was　most　happy　in　the　manner　of　his　death；　which　took　place　suddenly　while　he　was　at　prayer。　Such　would　be　the　end　that　I　should　choose；　if　choice　lay　within　our　power。
Another　task　that　I　undertook　in　the　intervals　of　my　Royal　mission　was　an　agricultural　investigation　which　resulted　in　my　book　“Rural　Denmark；”　whereof　a　new　edition　is　just　about　to　appear。　What　I　saw　in　that　country　was　to　me　little　less　than　a　revelation；　but　I　need　not　dwell　on　it　in　these　pages。　Here　I　found　the　answer　to　the　problem　which　had　puzzled　me　for　so　many　years　—　namely；　how　agriculture　could　be　made　to　pay　in　a　Free　Trade　country　with　an　indifferent　climate。　That　answer　undoubtedly　is：　By　means　of　medium　or　small　holdings；　for　the　most　part　owned　and　not　rented；　aided　by　universal　co…operation；　which　will　only　flourish　in　the　absence　of　too　many　large　farmers；　and　by　a　system　akin　to　that　which　is　known　as　credit…banks。　Thus　supported；　the　soil　of　Denmark；　which　is　on　the　whole　poorer　than　our　own　and　afflicted　with　an　even　worse　climate；　manages　out　of　its　small　extent；　equal　only　to　that　of　Scotland；　to　export　over　twenty　millions　sterling　worth　of　agricultural　produce；　chiefly　to　the　British　Isles；　in　addition　to　the　amount　which　it　keeps　at　home　for　sustenance　in　a　densely　populated　land。
What　Denmark　does　most　undoubtedly　the　United　Kingdom　could　do；　though　perhaps　with　some　variation　in　the　actual　products。　This；　however；　will　not；　I　think；　happen　under　that　aftermath　of　feudalism；　our　present　system　of　hired　farms；　many　of　which　are　larger　than　the　tenant　can　manage；　and；　as　a　consequence；　indifferently　cultivated。　Nor　will　co…operation　on　a　large　scale　arise　under　these　circumstances。　Owners　with　no　landlord　to　run　to　must　co…operate　in　self…protection；　tenants；　and　especially　large　tenants；　do　not　do　so。
I　was　anxious　to　serve　on　the　Development　Board；　in　the　interests　of　Afforestation；　and　also　I　felt　that　it　had　its　roots；　or　at　any　rate　some　of　th