JAC Online

A Note of Warning
by John Hollins
(from the Contemporary Review 1898, pgs. 436-445)

"O Heavens! If we saw an army ninety thousand strong maintained and fully equipt, in continual real action and battle against Chaos. Necessity, Stupidity .... fighting and incessantly spearing down and destroying Falsehood, Nescience. Delusion. Disorder, and the Devil and his Angels!"

—Carlylk, " Past and Present."

A NOBLE wish,. and surely almost prophetic of the Salvation Army! Yet a Wesleyan Methodist, on leaving one of our services some years ago, remarked to the friend who accompanied him, "That's Methodism gone to seed!" which would, I have no doubt, be news for most people who had not noticed that Methodism was getting seedy, and fancied that the Salvation Army was quite another thing. Every movement within the realm of Christianity is perhaps indebted to preceding ones, and all contain the same living seed—Jesus Christ. But Sir Oracle was wrong. The Salvation Army is not degenerate Methodism. It bears evidences of genuineness and originality writ large upon it. It came into existence because of a need, and has in some sort answered it. It propagates no new fanatical doctrines, but preaches Christ crucified. Its developments have been, on the whole, rational and beneficent, and it has displayed considerable adaptability. In short, without making any comparison as to what may be termed quality, it is as true a movement as Methodism itself, and so entirely original that it approximates in a remarkable way to Carlyle's ideal host.

The world, as was to be expected, has given the Salvation Army a very mixed reception. It has been satirised, ostracised, eulogised. High and low, learned and unlearned, have opposed or defended it. Huxley girded at its "corybantic" religion, and charged full tilt against its social wing; Bradlaugh waxed wroth over its "drums and tramplings"; whilst, on the other hand, Jowett, of Oxford, praised it in his own judicious way, and Farrar is still the eloquent champion of much of its work. "Skeletons" have caricatured and persecuted it; the Church of England has imitated it, and Royalty blessed it. And yet though all tongues wag concerning this new, robustious thing under the sun, really discriminating views of the Salvation Army are by no means plentiful. With some truth it may be said that our enemies batter us and our friends flatter us. And we Salvationists, looking through the glasses of our foes, honestly fail to see what they appear to see, and are sometimes almost as much bewildered over the highly-coloured spectacles of our friends. We have scarcely learned to use our own eyes, to examine and judge for ourselves, and have very little idea of the true proportions, the strength and weakness, the possibilities and dangers of the Salvation Army. What may be called "public opinion" has no existence amongst us. There is no open discussion of matters affecting the welfare of the organisation, such as we find in other religious bodies. We have, indeed, what are called "officers' councils" and "soldiers' councils," but the title is a misnomer. What is meant is "officers and soldiers counselled." The Salvation Army, like every other institution, is imperfect, but, under the domination of the military idea and in the name of loyalty, we appear to have all agreed to keep silence concerning the disquieting symptoms and weak places existing in it. This is unfortunate, and may in itself constitute one of our gravest perils. And really there is no occasion for it. Bad men and bad institutions rightly fear examination, but the Salvation Army is sound enough and strong enough to profit by an honest exchange of opinion amongst its members in their councils and publications.

The writer's main object in this article is to strike a note of warning in regard to certain tendencies and dangers that are revealing themselves in the Salvation Army. He has had a dozen years' experience of its ordinary evangelical work, and is simply an unpaid soldier or member. He is taking it for granted that his readers have a general idea of the character and scope of Salvation Army enterprises, and are agreed as to their beneficence, even though they may disagree as to their wisdom.

Before entering upon my subject proper, however, perhaps I may be allowed to sketch very briefly a few notable characteristics of the organisation and its members that have impressed me.

The dominant notes in the Salvation Army are earnestness and joy. The Salvationist, like Ibsen's creation "Brand," sees soul and body where others see body, and perhaps soul; but, unlike Brand, he cannot help being happy, for Christ has appeared to him at the beginning of his religious experience. For let people say what they may about "irreverence " and about "dragging religion in the gutter," members of the Army have a genuine spiritual experience, and are in reality as reverent in spirit as other Christians. We are rough at times, and harsh, and occasionally mix things up—the trivial with the sacred. For instance, we were gravely told in the War Cry recently of a dying Salvationist who "passed triumphantly away leaving one of the first silk handkerchiefs sold by the Army !" But, notwithstanding our crudities and oddities, there is amongst us as a whole a clear realisation of the power and presence of God, and of our own demerits, along with a sincere desire to shape our lives according to the divine will.

It is impossible to be in the Salvation Army without feeling that the ruling passion there is for seeking and saving the lost. This accounts for its warm religious atmosphere. We are not only provided with opportunities for doing good, but also with a genial zone to do it in—a fact that will be appreciated by those who have to carry on any sort of work in the face of indifference or contempt.

Another thing that has impressed me is the presence in the Army of much elementary religion and much deep spirituality. A student of the Epistles will note how the most elementary moral axioms alternate there with the profoundest Christian doctrines. There is that in our organisation which constantly reminds one of this trait in the apostolic writings. The Salvation Army carries the Gospel to the most debased and ignorant, and it also unfurls a high standard of holy living. It has within its ranks those who have been saved from the power of gross habits, and has also choice spirits very many, men and women of saintly character. It has to feed many babes and nurture many who know something of "the deep things of God."

Then look at the sensible recognition by the Salvation Army of woman's right to do what she has capacity for!  I should think that one-half of our number are women. Many of them fill positions of considerable responsibility, and one, Mrs. Bramwell Booth, successfully administrates a great and difficult work.

Then think of the Army's cosmopolitanism. In England Hodge and John Artisan, arrayed in jerseys, may be seen hobnobbing with converted Hindoos and others of that ilk who have come from the ends of the earth to take part in some great gathering of Salvationists, and to assist in the work of converting British heathens. And if an English Salvationist lands in any part of the world where the "yellow, red, and blue" of the Salvation Army has made its appearance, he will receive the same hearty welcome as his foreign comrades receive who land in England. It cannot be a matter of indifference that there is at work in various parts of the world, and among the classes where race-hatreds are perhaps strongest, an organisation that has caught the Christian note of universal brotherhood, and is seeking to dissolve the barriers that exist between nations.

Then much might be said about what may be termed the romance of Salvation Army work. For instance, Mary—once, we will suppose, your cook—having fallen in with the Army and got converted, left your service to your regret, became an officer, and is now in India. You have never passed through the Red Sea, or admired the scenery of Ceylon, or gazed on the sacred Ganges, or come in contact with Oriental races and civilisations! Well, she, your erstwhile cook, has, and had some intelligent conception of it, too! As she tells the story of Jesus, the native people throng round to listen, whilst priests and pundits learned in the immemorial wisdom of India stand respectfully by. In a modest way she is a religious leader, a teacher of truth, a reconciler of East and West. Since she joined the Salvation Army there have come to her joys, friendships, providences, compensations, consolations. She attributes them to the doing of God's will. And she is one of multitudes who, humanly speaking, have found whatever of good, and wonder, and beauty has come into their lives through the Salvation Army.

In proceeding to deal with some of our dangers as an organisation, or tendencies that may develop into dangers, I would call attention to the constitution of the Salvation Army. It is a voluntary association organised and carried on somewhat after the manner of a "killing" army. Its General possesses absolute authority within the domain of its operations, and, acting through the Chief of the Staff, issues orders and regulations for the movement throughout the world. He holds in trust all Salvation Army properties, for the purposes of the work. He even appoints his successor. It need hardly be said that the practical work of administration is done by the Chief of the Staff and headquarters officials generally, as representing the supreme authority.

The parallel between the Salvation Army and an ordinary army is not a perfect one, because, whilst the fourteen or fifteen thousand paid officers amongst us, who devote all their time to the work, may be considered as under effectual control, the members or soldiers, whilst being expected, of course, to carry out the rules that apply to their position, do that of their own free will, and devote just what spare time they choose to the service of the Salvation Army.

It will have already been gathered from what I have said that they have no regulating voice in the affairs of the organisation—no voting powers, no right to deal with matters even the most local.

Now, autocratic authority, and in military form, is surely a remarkable thing in a religious organisation. It seems to me that such authority makes its appeal to fear rather than to love. It tends to summary action and to the suppression of legitimate opinion. It will not bend to compromise; it dare not admit mistakes. And in the present case, however wise and good our leaders may be, mistakes occur, offences arise, injustice is sometimes done.

The Salvation 'Army thus presents one or two curious features. Composed of voluntary members, it is yet ruled after a military fashion. Its authorities ask obedience in all matters affecting its work and discipline, and yet cannot impose penalties, ecclesiastical or otherwise, for disobedience. They can only appeal to conscience, or to a sense of loyalty, or to a fear of ulterior consequences. They make large demands upon the main body of the Army, guided only by their own sense of justice or fitness. Between authority, therefore, containing tendencies such as I have described, aiming to be real, and yet in a large measure unable to enforce its demands-—and the voluntary element subject to great pressure from above; its rights unrecognised; without administrative powers; and yet able to free itself at will from authority—between these two, I say, how easily may conflicts occur! and with what disastrous results possibly!

A certain corps, where flourishing work used to be carried on, has been almost ruined, because an impression gained ground in it that our authorities, in the matter of a bequest, acted unrighteously, though legally. I think I understand how it happened. Authority took one view of the matter, the local society another. Authority, of course, carried the day, and the local members stung by a sense of what they considered injustice, and unable to defend themselves in a constitutional way, could only protest and leave. Now, if their position had been less one of mere subjection, and if they had been able to appoint one of their number to represent their case in some court, where the matter could have been calmly considered, there might have been a much happier ending to the dispute. As it is, the corps is wrecked and the good name of the Salvation Army destroyed throughout a whole district. Autocratic government may do fairly well in calm weather, but when storms arise there is only a step between autocracy and anarchy; and, whilst religious zeal has made a kind of truce between the autocratic and voluntary elements in the Salvation Army, there will have to be, for perpetual reconciliation, not only very judicious exercise of power on the part of authority, but also a wise recognition of the rights and privileges naturally associated with the voluntary element. In short, I think that the members of the Salvation Army ought to have some share in the administration of it. Perhaps it sounds absurd to speak of soldiers having a voice in the affairs of an army. In this case, however, it must be remembered that the soldiers of the Salvation Army help to build barracks and maintain officers as well as do the work. Practically, they (along with the public) provide the sinews of war—and fight the battles! It seems just, therefore, that they should have power to deal with matters that affect their own societies, at the very least. Besides, if a person is given a regulating voice in anything, his interest is deepened, his sense of responsibility quickened, and whatever of wisdom or experience he possesses is placed at the public service.

The Salvation Army is a religious denomination—nay, in what I believe to be a true sense of the word, a Church. When I was thinking over this article on two occasions lately, I happened both times to turn accidentally to passages in the Acts of the Apostles that refer to the position and power of the laity in the Church.* Referring to the latter passage, my Commentary (Dr. Ellicott's) says: " It is probable . . . that the Ecclesia, or popular assembly, did not possess the power of initiating measures; but their right to vote appears, from this instance, to have been indisputable."

The military system has certain obvious advantages as a working method. It ensures economy of time, dispatch, punctuality. But the multiplicity of regulations inseparable from it in a great organisation like the Salvation Army tends to mechanical action. Where so much is done by rule there is little room for personal initiative. Where so much effort has to be put forth, so many meetings to be held, and where strict account has to be given of what is done, it is little wonder that work degenerates into routine pretty often. In obedience to rules carried out "not wisely but too well," a few of us have sometimes gone out to "hold a meeting," with the quixotic intention apparently of converting bricks and mortar! And we have held forth and sang and banged our drum until one has been irresistibly reminded of Messrs. Quince, Snug, Bottom & Co.'s immortal performances in the "Midsummer Night's Dream"—their earnest futilities, their serio-comicalities.

Exclaims Thoreau in one place, referring to his over-decorous youth: "What demon possessed me that I behaved so well?" "What demon possesses us that we behave so well?" Salvationists might often cry as they consider the waste of time and energy arising from their obedience to regulations applied with slavish literality in circumstances where effort is practically thrown away.

We are apt to fix our attention upon great special features of the Salvation Army, such as the Social Scheme, the Slum Work, &c.; but we must go to the corps or societies wherein the ordinary work is carried on if we would test the quality of the movement, or seek to estimate its future possibilities.

It is in connection with them that the ceaseless efforts are put forth whereby the Salvation Army seeks to extend the Christian religion, increase its own store of spiritual power, add to its numbers, repair its losses. Now these societies very often reveal symptoms which must cause profound disquiet to thoughtful Salvationists, and which, if more generally considered would nip in the bud that tendency to brag of our achievements and put a good face upon our failures that shows itself amongst us sometimes. They are subject to strange fluctuations in regard to numerical strength. We cannot help noticing the sudden decline of many, the speedy extinction of others. Whilst we are extending our operations on every hand, some of the established corps are in a perilous state.

* See Acts vi. 15 ; and Acts xv. 22.

One reason for this is the unstable moral and material conditions existing in the strata of society where much of our work lies. This we cannot avoid. But there are other causes. Perhaps to the work of no religious body does the parable of the sower apply so aptly as to that of the Salvation Army. We are always sowing; we sow everywhere. We get all sorts of cases, those "who have no root in themselves" as well as those "in good ground” with perhaps a few knaves and cranks thrown in. And immediately we send them out into the streets with a literal flourish of trumpets. But afterwards, "when affliction or persecution ariseth," many of them "are offended." The good remain, but the corps is reduced by one-half, and the public form their own opinions. There is surely room for caution, thoroughness, and some wise method of probation here?

Again, another cause is over-pressure. The demands in the Salvation Army, physical and otherwise, are very severe. During the average time of an officer's stay in one corps (which is six months) there are held about 400 indoor and outdoor meetings, besides much other work. A viaduct must not only be strong enough to bear the heaviest traffic, but, if it is to endure, must be much stronger. We however, seem to be working up to the extreme limit of our powers of endurance; we leave no margin of strength; we lack some element of calm; we have scarcely a green place for rest and recuperation.

Wordsworth's lines,

"The world is too much with us; late and soon. Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers,'' might be applied to our religious world. When one comes to consider a hundred years of effort on present lines, curious thoughts arise. Already there are worn-out officers and almost worn-out corps.

The authorities are of course responsible for much of this overpressure. Their aim seems to be to tax the time, energy, and giving capacity of the societies to the utmost. They are wondrously kind to their sinners, but very severe on their saints; and, whilst we believe that the reasons for the demands they make are right enough in themselves, that will not prevent the camel's back from being broken if the last straw is insisted on.

And now let us look at one or two phases of the financial administration. They used to sing in the music-halls:

"Why does the Salvation Army march the streets and play  'Tis for money."  They don't do that now. The world is getting convinced about the integrity of our purposes as an organisation. True, there is still ridicule. We are still invited to "skin the donkey!" But they don't now insinuate that we stole that long-suffering quadruped!

So far as the societies are concerned, and taking into consideration their limited resources, our system must be called an expensive one. This partly arises from the fact that, as a rule, each corps however small has two stationed officers. In a division containing, say, twenty-five societies, the amount required for salaries will be some £2000 yearly. Then there are rents of halls, officers' quarters, and other local expenses, besides what is required by the authorities for general maintenance, &c. I calculate that at the least £4000 will be necessary to clear the working expenses in such a division, where there may be perhaps 2000 Salvationists. The fact that in many corps the officers cannot get in full the very modest salaries allotted to them emphasises what I have said about the expensiveness of the system. When we consider the poverty of so many of our members and congregations, there is, in view of what I have stated, good reason for the financial difficulties of our corps. In some the strain is serious and extremely harmful, and occasionally there is a condition of things where the officers are existing at very little above starvation-point. The divisional officer, it is true, has power to make money grants in cases of extreme need, when applied to for them. But officers are often reticent about making-such applications. They know that the divisional exchequer is only scantily furnished, and have besides an impression, mistaken perhaps, that their doing so is an implied confession of incapacity. A "minimum wage" ought to be guaranteed to every officer; but perhaps the true way out of the difficulty would be to amalgamate small corps that are reasonably contiguous; to work others by means of one officer to a corps instead of two, having some central quarters where several officers could reside together; to greatly extend the circle system, by means of which several small societies are worked by a pair of officers travelling from place to place ; and finally to use the most capable of the local members in a much greater measure than is at present the case for itinerant work. Some change is certainly needed, and even if under a new system so much effort could not be put forth as at present, that would be amply compensated by the removal of a blot from the Salvation Army; the saving in flesh and blood, in money, and in officers and members, who at present retire from the work altogether because they cannot stand its hardships, or are disgusted with the eternal beg, beg, beg; and, again, in officers, who could then be working in the new fields that are continually being opened up. Then there is another aspect of the financial question. Whilst many officers and corps are burdened as I have described, there are others seriously handicapped because ire persist sometimes in erecting spacious buildings that are altogether beyond our means. The consequence is a crushing load of debt, and the devotion of much valuable time and energy in meeting severe obligations that ought never to have been necessary. We are a poor people, and had far better carry on our work in tents and sheds than indulge in erratic lapses from economy and sound finance.

A great responsibility rests upon our leaders. It devolves upon them to a large extent to guide and develop a notable and beneficent movement that may last for ages, and it would be a great mistake to imagine that its organisation is already perfect. I have indicated some of our dangers, or what appear to me as such.

Three words indicate three of our greatest needs—thought, thoroughness, caution. Our authorities would do well to institute a profound study of these and other needs and dangers, and of the ways whereby they may possibly be met.

There are spots on the sun; there are defects in the Salvation Army. But there is one great fact that more than anything else gives us heart for the future. It has life—rich stores of spiritual power, a wide and deep possession of "Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and forever."

What I have written in this article has been on my own responsibility, though I have no doubt other Salvationists have had somewhat similar thoughts. One or two things I can say for others as well as for myself, however. We love the organisation of our choice; through it we have obtained spiritual illumination; in it we find many opportunities for doing good; and leaders who show in a practical way what self-denial means.

Looking outward, we are grateful for what has been accomplished. If the Salvation Army were to disappear tomorrow, there has been that of good wrought by its means in the lives of untold multitudes, which would surely earn for it a place in the memory of the world. Perhaps I, who am not a leader but an obscure Salvationist, may be allowed to say this for it.

But will it disappear tomorrow? Will it endure? Is the Salvation Army a sort of comet, obedient to high laws, yet destined to pursue a brief if brilliant course in the religious sphere, and then disappear forever? Or will it take a continuing place amongst those other bodies which in their various orbits circle around the Cross as around a Sun? Such thoughts occur to many, within the Salvation Army and without. I cannot answer them. Permanence depends on many things, and I am not a philosopher.

I can only say—give us a fair field and a hundred years. At the end of that time, if all is well, we may compare notes. But should we not be able through "the accident of death" to celebrate our centenary, that of the Salvation Army will, I doubt not, be held amidst great jubilation.

John Hollins.

Notes.

Salvation Army Government.—It may be said that it is absurd to speak of grafting what may in a minor sense be termed popular government on to a military system. I would answer that the fact of a voluntary association having run into a military mould will make some development in that direction necessary. Otherwise, the tendencies I have described will increase, there being no adequate check upon them, and the organisation be crushed, perhaps, between the twin millstones of over-pressure and over-regulation. Then we must have regard to the future. We have our strong man now, our Cromwell; but suppose a Richard and evil days? Suppose a clique of officials acting against a general? Or a general, for some reason, declared unfit? Who is to remove him? And what if he objects? What possibilities of disorganisation and collapse lie here! Our present honoured leader holds his position by what may be termed creative rights, but I think that authority in the future may need ratification by the whole Salvation Army.

Financial Pressure.—One week recently the combined salaries of two officers amounted to the handsome sum of ninepence. In another case the officers (women) were obliged to go out one morning to friends and beg their breakfasts! Such cases, alas! are not rare. Then almost all the hard and puerile characteristics of the Salvation Army arise from its financial difficulties. Untoward and humiliating incidents constantly crop up in connection with money-getting and vastly minimise our influence. I am convinced that Salvationists everywhere are sick of this sort of thing, and desire the time when the Salvation Army shall be able more continuously to utter forth its deeper, diviner notes.

Adaptability.—I mentioned that the Salvation Army had shown adaptability. This is true, and yet, I think, that there is a danger of us reaching a certain point of adaptation, and sticking there. There seems to be a notion amongst us that adaptation means making our methods fit all circumstances. There is no essential virtue in drums and flags.