Into these streets come day after day, and every Sunday, the little,
vigorous corps of The Salvation Army, stationed in this quarter of
London. The Adjutant of the corps some years ago was a beautiful and
delicate girl. She prayed at the bedside of dying men and women in
these lodging-houses. She taught children to pray. She went into
public-houses and persuaded the violent blackguards of the town to
come away; she pleaded with the most desperate women at street
corners; she preached in the open streets on Sundays; she stood
guard over the doors of men, mad for drink, and refused to let them
out.
On one occasion this little woman was walking home through evil
streets after midnight, when a drunken man asked her if he might
travel by her side. After going some way the man said, 'No, you
aren't afraid,' and then he mumbled to himself, 'Never insults the
likes of you, because you cares for the likes of us.'
It is to the work of this wonderful woman--so gracious, so modest,
and so sweet--that one may trace the miracles whose histories are
contained in the following pages. The energy, resolution, and
splendid cheerfulness of the present corps, some of them her own
converts, may likewise be traced through her influence. She has
left in these foul streets the fragrance of her personality, a
fragrance of the lilies of a pure soul. 'Ah,' exclaims an old
jail-bird, showing me the photograph of this woman, 'If anybody goes
to Heaven, it will be that there little Angel of God.' They call her
the 'Angel Adjutant.'
We see the Angel Adjutant again in the book, visiting the 'Puncher' at
his work; braving the abominations of 'O.B.D.'s' den, as she made friends
with that sodden drink slave and his wife, piloting him to the hall and
mothering the first signs of grace in his stupefied soul. We see her
mothering the 'Criminal,' weeping over the fall of 'Rags and Bones,'
endeavouring to hold the 'Failure' to his moral and spiritual
obligations, and, despite his falls, refusing to give him up.
'That man, Mr. Begbie, is wonderful. He's got those men's very images on
paper,' says one of Kate Lee's converts, referring to the 'Twice Born
Men' characters. None the less truly did he get Kate Lee's photograph on
paper, and sent it round the world for all to see, and for thinking
people to admire, to wonder over, to praise and give thanks for.
'Twice Born Men' was a great success. Its first edition was immediately
absorbed, while its present edition is the twenty-seventh, and its
English circulation has reached over a quarter of a million copies. It
has had, likewise, an enormous sale in the United States and Canada. It
has been translated into French, German, and Swedish.
Few books of its time appealed to so widely differing minds and classes.
The professor of psychology, the theologian, the prize-fighter, Christian
mother, the school-boy, in common interest bent their heads over its
pages. The Press discussed it from many aspects in a chorus of favour.
'The Angel Adjutant' became an entity whom people all over the world
desired to know. After she had been thus discovered to the world,
wherever she went she was received with honour. Churches besieged her
with invitations to occupy their pulpits. Civic authorities paid
deference to this spiritual and moral specialist.
How did the glare of the limelight affect Kate Lee? A comrade who knew
more of her inner life than almost any other, lets in a sidelight upon
her association with 'Twice Born Men.' Her experiences in connexion with
the book were not entirely sweet. She felt the sting of jealousy, that
hurtful thing which, while uncleansed human nature is what it is, will
continue to inflict wounds upon those chosen for honour, but Kate Lee
bore it with meekness and in silence. 'It is not easy to bear success,'
she said on this subject. 'When I have been lifted up, it has meant a
cross rather than a throne for me.'
It is not easy for a noble soul to bear a representative honour, unless
it is patent to all that it _is_ representative and not personal. No
one realized more fully than Kate Lee that other women officers had
worked and are working amongst the masses just as she worked, actuated by
the same spirit as moved her, and achieving the same results as those in
which she rejoiced. She would rather that another than herself had been
thrown upon the world's screen to illustrate the work. A few weeks before
she died, she spoke of this to her old friend, Brigadier Elizabeth
Thomas, adding, 'Whenever "Twice Born Men" is mentioned, I want to run
and hide my head.' But while she felt all this, her keen sense of true
values withheld her from putting a trumpet to her lips and declaring it.
Rather, with that Christlike modesty and dignity that characterized all
her public service, she entered every door that publicity opened to her
and gave her message. She occupied many important pulpits, filling great
churches with interested and sympathetic congregations.
As ever she was about her Father's business. Far from attracting
attention to herself, she brushed aside preliminaries, and got directly
to her subject. For the title of her lecture, she did not always choose
'The Terrible Ten' or 'Modern Miracles' or 'Twice Born Men'; sometimes
she gave a plain Salvation address, or a simple call to professing
Christians to live the life of Christ. One lady who heard her, tells how
on one occasion she held a great congregation in the hollow of her hand.
Tears had flowed; heads were shaking in depreciation or nodding
approvingly, as she pictured the sorrows and the sins of the poor, and
God's power to save them to the uttermost. Then she 'turned her guns'
upon her hearers. How did _they_ stand before God in relation to
sin? 'Society is often a cloak for sin that is terribly present in the
heart. The law deals with sin that is _found out_: God deals with it
as it is in the soul. You and I are each going to the bar of God to be
judged _as we are_. How is it with your soul?'
A strange silence came upon that select audience, as the people pondered
straighter and more personal questions than they were accustomed to hear
addressed to them.
A lieutenant tells of a railroad incident, which reveals how truly Kate
Lee loved to be unknown, and how she would screen herself from praise,
when to accept it could serve no definite end. She says:--
We were returning from some Councils, and a clergyman got into our
compartment. He was very friendly, and in conversation we found him
enthusiastic over 'Twice Born Men.' He said how he would count it an
honour to meet the 'Angel Adjutant,' and express to her his thanks
for the help he had received by her example. I felt so proud of her,
and wanted to tell the clergyman that the 'Angel Adjutant' was my
Captain; but catching a warning glance from her, I had to keep quiet.
A few hours after he heard of Kate Lee's death, Harold Begbie penned the
following tribute to her memory:--
There seems to me something in the death of Kate Lee at this moment
which has a mystical significance.
The world has just received 'The Life of William Booth,' and is
making up its mind what to think of him. His son, Bramwell, with a
courage which is part of his religion, allowed the biographer of
William Booth to write freely what he believed to be the truth, and
the whole truth, of the great Founder of The Salvation Army. There
in that book for all men to behold, in the very habit of his daily
life, stands William Booth, revivalist, social reformer, colonizer,
organizer, husband, father, and man.
And now there ascends into the glory of God one of the most radiant
spirits that ever blessed the darkest places of the earth with a
light truly from Heaven, little Kate Lee, the Angel Adjutant of
Notting Dale; the saint of the worst men that ever lived, the
adored angel of souls once as foul and brutal and besotted with
iniquity as ever corrupted human life, and but for William Booth
she herself might have perished.
I am one of those who cannot think of William Booth as a saint. His
wonder for me, and his greatness, lies in the fact that he made
saints; this turbulent and tremendous power, this unresting energy,
he made saints; that is to say, he made the most beautiful and
gentle thing that can exist in human life, the spirit that loves the
worst; that descends with joy into the pit of pollution; that is
happier there than in the abodes of the sanctified; that is wholly
content to be unknown and unheard of; that can save the worst and
transfigure the most hideous, and itself remain utterly unspotted
by the world.
I was far away in the dales of Yorkshire when I heard of Kate Lee's
death. My first feeling was one of gladness, for I loved to know she
was beyond the touch of pain. Then I fell into a fit of sorrow. _Why
had I not made this miracle of William Booth more real in the
biography?_ Is there anything in life so important, or anything at
this moment of the world's history that calls so urgently for
proclamation, as the miracle of conversion?
Kate Lee seemed to be at my side. I saw the harassed statesmen of
the nations attempting to piece together the broken pieces of this
war-shattered world, and they seemed to me no greater figures than
children playing with the parts of a world which they themselves
had taken apart. And Kate Lee seemed to say, 'There is no hope for
the world, no hope at all, but the changed heart. Until men love
God, they will never love each other. And until they love each
other there will be poverty and crime, revolutions and wars.'
Her life goes on in the lives of others. She is immortal here upon
earth. For ever and ever some men and women will be better because
in her lifetime she made other people good who were bad, happy who
were unhappy. But I would that her spirit could penetrate into the
whole life of humanity.
How modest she was, how unassuming, and how tranquil! She had seen
the most evil depth of the human heart, and yet she believed, with
a smile of unclouded gladness, that the human heart is of God. She
loved the worst people in the world. She was tender and patient
with the most stupid and dull. She never despaired of any soul that
looked at her with eyes of hunger. The Pharisee might turn away
with disgust, the judge might condemn, science might pronounce the
case hopeless; she smiled and waited, waited at the prison door,
waited in the pit of abomination, waited at the hard heart. And
while she waited she prayed, quietly, and calmly; and while she
prayed so great was the love of God in her heart, she smiled. There
is no hope for the world until the love that was in Kate Lee is in
us. Let every Salvationist assure himself with every day of life
that his work lies only with the unhappy, the foul, the horrible,
the repulsive. To this end came William Booth preaching in the slums
and alleys of great cities, and on this mission of his went Kate Lee
with a song in her heart and a smile on her lips.
I never looked into human face so full of the love of God, so
shining with love of humanity, as the face of this 'Angel Adjutant.'
During the week of the announcement of Kate Lee's death, her name was
upon the lips of millions of people. Newspapers throughout the country
published her photograph and told of how she sought the lost. In the
saloons around London the topic of conversation was the loveliness of the
'Angel Adjutant.' Almost wherever Salvationists appeared, people
sympathized with them in the loss of so brave an officer as Kate Lee.
Beyond the seas, illustrated journals carried the picture of her pure
face and the story of her love and devotion to her Saviour and the
sinful, and mothers gave thanks for her life and prayed that their
daughters might have her spirit.
Her casket was borne through streets lined with thousands of silent,
reverent spectators and carried to the grave by men once deep-dyed in
sin, now cleansed and ennobled by the Salvation she had proclaimed.
To queens has less honour been shown than to this girl who was born in
crowded Hornsey, who lived a life of toil and struggle, and died
penniless. Why? Because the human heart, despite its crookedness and
failings, recognizes that love is the greatest thing in the world, and
pays tribute accordingly.