The trials, tribulations and triumphs of early-day Salvationists
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BY BARRY GITTINS
Life for early-day Salvationists was far from dull. The August 1883 issues of the War Cry, published 143 years ago this month, make that abundantly clear.
The Kadina Salvos in South Australia were marching along with a brass band while “the Devil was raging [when] a nice little stone came over a fence into the procession, striking one of our Bandsmen on the leg, but, thank God, did not do any damage”.
Then, as now, detractors were suspicious of this Salvation Army – publicans were particularly concerned that many testifying at the Salvos’ “good Free-and-Easy” meetings “did not now spend their money in the public-house”.
At Port Augusta Salvos (SA) – where they held ‘Sisters’ meetings, ‘Brothers’ meetings, temperance meetings, open-air services, prayer meetings, ‘Cottage’ meetings and ‘Holiness’ meetings – many a “Great Drunkard and Swearer” was changing their life and finding “the desire was all gone for drink and pipe”.
Then, as now, substance abuse and addiction were harming the lives of individuals and families. And then, as now, lives were being changed for the better.
At Wallaroo Salvos (SA) – and in other places throughout the colonies – Salvos were using ‘Thanksgiving Teas’, ‘Grand Devil Driving’ meetings, ‘Grand Hosanna’ meetings, ‘Nicodemus’ meetings and ‘Tea Festivals’ – even indulging in “Hallelujah Waves of Handkerchiefs” – to denounce “the Demon Drink [as] the forerunner of all evil”.
Horses played a vital role in how early Salvationists spread the Gospel throughout Australia.
Ironically, while The Salvation Army declared its intention to “Wage War against King Alcohol”, Salvos returned home from ‘Sunday Knee-drills’ (prayer meetings) declaring they were “like giants refreshed with new wine”.
The desire to promote changed lives included the publication of testimonies from “a converted actress” and “a converted spiritist”, who publicly pondered whether to burn, sell or take to headquarters their library of “infidel, spiritualist, pantheist and ‘magic’ books”.
Changed lives also led to a desire to help others change theirs. The War Cry’s August 1883 issues also include additional subscriptions from friends and individuals (contributing a breadboard, a sugar basin, two candlesticks, stamps, etc.) to the Army’s Home for Fallen Sisters (a halfway house for women wanting to leave sex work).
The Army’s interventions were not always welcome. Later that same year, a man “driving in a trap [wagon] drove through the crowd of an open-air ring and returned, thus risking the lives of the people. Some rough young fellows from a public-house saw it and came out, pulled the man out of the trap and thrashed him. Then the Publican turned Constable locked him up and summoned him for damages. He was fined very heavily. “Well done, publican,” the War Cry suggested. “This is an example.”
Violence was always a possibility back then. Two years later, in the War Cry’s 8 August 1885 edition, a drunk man on horseback snatched a flaming torch out of the hands of a Sale Salvationist and “tried to burn the flag”… The horse trod on the foot of the flagbearer, who fell to the ground to protect the flag. Lieut Knight declared that in spite of “the enemy, The Salvation Army is marching along with banner and song” flying high.
There was an enthusiasm – a driving fire – that carried people in an age before automobiles and reliable public transport. When not everyone could afford a horse or coach fare, or even one of those newfangled bicycles, people walked impressive distances to be part of the Salvos’ mission and ministry.
Captain C. Wright reported that a man walked 42 miles (“and then was in the marches”) and that a woman walked 18 miles “along a lonely road, having no fear ... to be at our meeting” at Dunolly (Vic.).
In the same issue, a woman at a Rescued Sisters Home testified that life was so bleak she’d attempted suicide twice – “once by the Yarra [river], once by laudanum” [an alcoholic tincture of opium then available as pain relief and a cough suppressant]. The same woman later fell in with the Salvos and was converted.
Captain Rash added a plea, on behalf of the home, for “women’s clothing of all descriptions … a good chest of tea, a bag of sugar, or anything you can send.”
Also, the Prison Gate Brigade reported supplying “719 meals and 231 beds” to “the poor that we have always with us ... Lord help us to do them good!”
While the brigade was feeding and housing those in need, the Drunkards’ Brigade at Prahran Corps (Vic.) was bombarding “hotels … on the look-out for any poor drunkard that may be lying about”. Salvationists in those days would literally pick people up off the streets and from the gutters, hoist them into The Salvation Army’s ambulances, and take them to a safe place where they wouldn’t be run over by wagons, trampled by horses, or robbed while comatose.
The brigades were not always well received. One man with a drinking problem, hailing “from the respectable class”, was reported to have assaulted a Salvo who was trying to help him (as the War Cry charitably suggested, “he wanted to feel our comrade’s bumps with his walking stick”).
Salvos from Maldon Corps (Vic.) visited a nearby “Chinese camp” and reported seeing “some of our poor fallen sisters” (white women engaged in sex work in the camp). The Salvos sang and prayed, and “one sister went to them and tried to persuade them to give up their evil ways, but she could not induce them to do so”.
Encounters we would now describe as ‘cold’ were initiated with warm hearts; relationships were built despite public opinion, opposing worldviews and critical expectations. We made compassionate responses to pain – that was the way of the Salvos.
To this day, it remains a valid and often welcomed Salvation Army response.
