The Salvation Army's “Invasion” - Books and Journals

Mission Studies 28 (2011) 71–90 brill.nl/mist 

Religion versus the Raj: The Salvation Army’s 

“Invasion” of British India 

Andrew M. Eason 

Booth University College, 447 Webb Place, Winnipeg, MB R3B 2P2, Canada 

E-mail: Andrew_Eason@boothuc.ca 

Abstract 

Emerging as a mission in East London in 1865, the Salvation Army quickly became known for 

its militant and unconventional evangelism on the streets of British towns and cities. Convinced 

that unrepentant souls were headed for hell, Salvationists employed sensational tactics to attract 

the attention of the lower working classes. This strategy did not change when the Salvation Army 

sent a small party of missionaries to Bombay in 1882. They not only arrived in Indian dress but 

held noisy processions through the city’s streets. While these methods reflected the Salvation 

Army’s revivalist theology, they brought Salvationists into collision with the colonial authorities. 

Fearing that the Army’s aggressive and sensational evangelism would lead to religious rioting and 

reduce the religion of the ruling race to ridicule, the Bombay police arrested the Salvationists on 

several occasions between September 1882 and April 1883. Although the city’s British residents 

generally approved of the actions of the police, many Indians and missionaries came to the 

defence of the evangelical organization, believing that imperial officials had acted unjustly 

towards the Army’s missionaries. Bolstered by this support, Salvationists repeatedly defied colonial 

authority for the sake of religious liberty, demonstrating through their words and actions 

that the Salvation Army could be anything but a benefit to imperial stability and prestige on the 

subcontinent. 

Keywords 

Salvation Army, India, Nineteenth Century, Christian missions, colonialism 

Introduction 

Over the last two decades it has become fashionable for scholars to associate 

the Salvation Army with the ethos of the British Empire. It has been suggested, 

for instance, that the evangelical organization’s militarism mimicked the 

aggressive language, patriotic fervour and hierarchical structure of nineteenthcentury 

imperialism (Murdoch 1994; Richards 2001:381–382; Boone 

2005:85, 103–104, 194; Fischer-Tiné, 2007:29–67). From the late 1870s 

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2011 DOI: 10.1163/016897811X572195

72 A. M. Eason / Mission Studies 28 (2011) 71–90 

Salvationists not only engaged enthusiastically in warfare against identifiable 

spiritual enemies but began to show unquestioning allegiance to William 

Booth, their autocratic leader, who presided over what historian Norman 

Murdoch has called a “Christian imperium” (Murdoch 1994:113–145). Then, 

with the introduction of Booth’s “Darkest England” scheme to alleviate urban 

poverty in 1890, the Salvation Army aligned itself even more closely with 

imperial interests. Claiming that the empire could help to solve Britain’s 

mounting domestic ills, especially working-class vice and unemployment, this 

influential blueprint for social reform led Salvationists to create their own emigration 

department, which facilitated the transport of over 200,000 British 

men and women to colonial settings like Canada and Australia between the 

1900s and 1930s (Rutherdale 2006:174–197; Daniel 2007:33–48). 

The ties between the Salvation Army and colonialism have only been reinforced 

by research on the organization’s missionary work in British India. A 

growing body of scholarship has made this connection by focusing almost 

exclusively on the Army’s social programs on the subcontinent, particularly 

those aimed at reforming Indian tribal groups deemed criminal by British 

colonial law (Tolen 1991:106–125; Radhakrishna 2001; Veer 2001:153–155; 

Fischer-Tiné 2005:322–326). 1 Effectively operating as prison wardens, a number 

of Salvationist missionaries began to work closely with imperial governments 

in the reclamation of these “criminal” tribes. While these activities bore 

the obvious imprint of imperialism, most historians have been less interested 

in exploring other aspects of the Salvation Army’s missionary work, especially 

those that were at cross purposes with colonialism. Complicity with the British 

Raj has been the primary scholarly lens through which to view Salvationist 

activity in India, even though it fails to capture the full extent and import of 

the denomination’s legacy in this country. Although it is true that the Salvation 

Army eventually became involved in activities of a colonialist nature – 

especially after the adoption of a “Darkest India” scheme in the 1890s – this 

represented a profound departure from its controversial and unconventional 

beginnings on the subcontinent. When the first British Salvationists arrived in 

India, their methods and practices frequently hindered rather than helped the 

1 The possible exception here is Jeffrey Cox, who briefly acknowledges other parts of the Salvationist 

story in India. Yet even Cox seems most concerned with the imperial motif, not only 

because most of his primary sources on the Army are concerned with the “criminal tribes” but 

because he fails to address the religious motivations behind its missionary activities. See Cox 

2002:234–242.

A. M. Eason / Mission Studies 28 (2011) 71–90 73 

cause of imperialism. Inspired chiefly by revivalist impulses, they demonstrated 

that religion was capable of challenging and subverting the colonial system. 

Preparing for the Indian “Invasion” 

Andrew Porter has argued that “[m]issionaries viewed their world first of all 

with the eye of faith and then through theological lenses” (Porter 2004:13). 

The Salvationists who left Britain for India were no exception, because they 

belonged to an organization that stressed, above all, the need for conversion. 

As William Booth, the Salvation Army’s founding father, explained in 1879: 

“We are a salvation people – this is our specialty – getting saved and keeping 

saved, and then getting somebody else saved” (Booth 1879:1). Such a singular 

focus was understandable, given the Army’s sincere conviction that unrepentant 

souls were headed for the fires of hell. Belief in damnation gave the work 

of Salvationists a sense of urgency, so much so that novel and aggressive 

tactics – including the use of militaristic slogans – appeared entirely appropriate. 

According to one early pamphlet issued by the Army, the spiritual state of 

the masses made such an approach imperative: “If the people are in danger of 

the damnation of hell, and asleep in the danger, then the business of those sent 

to rescue them is, first, to awaken them. . . . [Our] methods attract their attention, 

secure a hearing for the gospel and thousands repent, flee to Christ from 

the wrath to come, and are saved” (All about The Salvation Army 1882:12). 

Convinced of the need to save the spiritually destitute, Salvationists employed 

noisy and aggressive measures to reach the world for God. 

While this type of strategy garnered criticism from many in the middle 

and upper classes, who found the Salvation Army’s tactics unconventional 

and irreverent, it could prove appealing to those of a revivalist bent. One such 

individual was Frederick Tucker, a young Anglican lawyer employed in the 

Indian Civil Service by the British Government in Dharmsala, a small hill 

station situated about one hundred miles north of Amritsar in north India 

(MacKenzie 1930:10–34; Williams 1980:24–42). Ever since recommitting 

his life to Christ at a revivalist meeting conducted by Moody and Sankey 

in London in 1875, Tucker had sought to combine preaching with his administrative 

duties as an official agent of the British Raj. As a keen student of 

evangelistic efforts to reach the unsaved, Tucker became enamoured with the 

Salvation Army after reading of its novel methods back in Britain. Impressed 

by its efforts among the lower classes, he went on to send a donation to 

the organization’s headquarters in London, perhaps hoping that this show of


support would solicit more information about the revivalist movement. Tucker 

would not be disappointed, because the 1880 Christmas edition of the Army’s 

weekly newspaper, The War Cry, was enclosed with the receipt in the return 

mail. Tucker was likely drawn to one article in particular, which chastised 

highly paid professionals for the paucity of their labours on behalf of the spiritually 

lost. Although Tucker had already demonstrated considerable passion 

for the work of the gospel, he felt convicted of the need to do much more – 

namely, to follow in the footsteps of these peculiar Salvationists, who were 

willing to become “fools for Christ’s sake” to win the unsaved (War Cry, 

London [hereafter cited as WCL] Dec. 23, 1880:3). 

Motivated by this theological purpose, Frederick Tucker took a four month 

leave from his position in the Indian Civil Service, said goodbye to his wife 

Louisa, and set off for England to join the Salvation Army. Arriving in London 

around Easter of 1881, Tucker first made contact with William Booth, who 

was hesitant to accept someone from an upper middle-class background (Williams 

1980:11–13, 41–42). Booth remained suspicious of the professional 

classes, believing that their refined tastes might hamper the organization’s 

efforts to reach the rougher segments of the working classes. But given Tucker’s 

genuine enthusiasm, the Army’s leader was willing to compromise. Tucker 

could enlist, provided he first spend some time with Salvationists on the frontlines. 

So for the next few weeks the educated gentleman from India was 

schooled in the Army’s methods in the city of Bristol, where the local officer 

was evangelizing the masses in a building that had once housed a circus. As 

Tucker quickly learned from this experience, the Army sought to avoid the 

conventional trappings of church life in order to reach the masses. Secular 

places of worship, along with secular tunes set to religious verse, were designed 

to appeal to the lower working classes, who were frequently less than regular 

churchgoers. Such measures were ridiculed by respectable Victorian society, 

but, as one Salvationist leader explained, the Salvation Army “had never out- 

Pauled Paul,” who had become all things to all people to save some (Methodist 

Recorder Dec. 23, 1881:922). 

After spending several months with Salvationists in England, Frederick 

Tucker decided to abandon his promising career in the Indian Civil Service, 

along with the lucrative salary and pension that went with it. Recalling his 

wife from India in the summer of 1881, he became a Salvation Army officer 

and was appointed to the organization’s international headquarters in London, 

where he began to advise senior leaders on legal matters (MacKenize 1930:46– 

48). Tucker’s real desire, however, was to return to India under the auspices of


the Salvation Army, as missionary work had become his first love. Fortunately, 

it did not take long for Tucker’s wish to be granted, for in late September 1881 

The War Cry briefly announced that he “was now waiting orders to carry the 

Salvation Army flag to India” (WCL Sept. 29, 1881:4). Tucker’s skills of persuasion 

undoubtedly played a key role in this decision, although he was not 

alone in urging the Army to commence work on the subcontinent. Others, 

including an unnamed Methodist missionary in Bombay, had been making 

similar pleas to William Booth around the same time (WCL Sept. 1, 1882:2). 

It was, therefore, only a matter of time before Salvationists “invaded” India. 

Notwithstanding the announcement in The War Cry, it would take another 

year before any Salvationist set foot in India. The cost involved in sending a 

missionary party to this distant land was probably the main reason for the 

delay. However, by the summer of 1882 it was clear that plans were underway 

to send the Tuckers and several other Salvationists to the city of Bombay. 

Although Frederick and Louisa were upper middle-class in background, the 

remaining members of the missionary party – Henry Bullard, Arthur Norman 

and Mary Ann Thompson – possessed working-class origins. Thompson, who 

hailed from Yorkshire, had been a domestic servant before joining the Army, 

while Bullard had been a stonemason in Leamington and Norman a blacksmith 

in another English town (Bullard 1946:6–12). One additional woman, 

identified only as a sister Jennings, had been chosen for the missionary expedition, 

but she became sick en route and was taken back to England by Louisa 

Tucker. In any event, none of the Salvationists chosen to accompany the 

Tuckers had more than a few months of elementary training in Bible and theology 

from the Salvation Army’s “school” for officers in London. Educationally 

speaking, they possessed few qualifications for service in a foreign country. 

What these Salvationists did not lack, however, was a missionary strategy 

centred upon cultural adaptation. Accommodation to culture had already 

defined the Army’s work in Britain, so it was only natural that it would be 

applied to the Indian subcontinent. Even before departing from Britain, the 

missionary party had appeared in London and elsewhere in Indian attire, not 

only to promote their new venture but to indicate their desire to adapt to a 

new culture (Christian July 27, 1882:8; WCL Aug. 24, 1882:1–2). As George 

Scott Railton, a leading Salvationist in Britain, said of the missionaries on the 

eve of their farewell: “In the strength of God they are resolved to lay aside their 

Western dignity, and to show by their dress, and in every possible way, that 

they feel themselves to be the brothers and servants of those to whom 

God sends them” (Railton 1882:1). While adaptation of this kind was rare in


missionary circles, it was not without precedent. It is likely, for instance, that 

Army leaders gained some inspiration from James Hudson Taylor’s China 

Inland Mission, which was already utilizing similar tactics in the mission field. 2 

Salvationists surely knew something of Taylor’s mission, which was headquartered, 

like the Salvation Army, in the East End of London. Meanwhile, Tucker 

himself apparently had some familiarity with the adaptive efforts of the earliest 

Roman Catholic missionaries in India, even if the depth of his knowledge on 

the subject remains uncertain (Williams 1980:61). What is clear, however, 

is that adaptation had been a characteristic feature of the Salvation Army 

since its inception. 

Even so, there was no getting around the fact that the militarism at the heart 

of the Salvation Army’s identity was a potential liability in a colonial setting 

like India. This helps to explain why William Booth wrote an open letter to 

The Indu Prakash, an Anglo-Marathi weekly newspaper, before the Salvationist 

missionary party arrived in Bombay. Recognizing that the religious organization’s 

militarism might be misconstrued by the native population, Booth 

hoped to head off any possible misunderstanding: “[Y]ou will easily understand 

that [the Salvationists] are armed with no carnal weapons – they carry 

no gun, no sword: their object is not to kill, but to give life; not to destroy, but 

to save. . . . Remember it does not come as an Army of compulsion. God desires 

the willing obedience of the people of India” (Booth 1882:3). The fact that 

Booth felt compelled to address the issue at all casts doubt on his assertion that 

Indians would “easily understand” the true intent of his Salvation Army. Even 

before the receipt of Booth’s letter more than one Bombay newspaper had suggested 

that misunderstanding was sure to arise over the militarism of Salvationists. 

Particularly blunt in its assessment was The Bombay Gazette, a leading 

English language daily. Arguing that it was unwise to allow a “detachment of 

fanatics” into the country, the paper worried that the military war cries and 

uniforms of the missionaries were sure to upset both Hindus and Muslims 

(Bombay Gazette Aug. 22, 1882:15–16). Just why this might be so was spelled 

out by The Bombay Guardian, a Christian newspaper in the city, which noted 

that the Salvation Army’s aggressive tactics might lead the inhabitants of India 

to be “convulsed with alarm at the prospect of being made Christians in spite 

of themselves” (Bombay Guardian Aug. 26, 1882:530). While such a fear 

proved to be unfounded, it is fair to say that Christian militancy was capable 

of fostering tensions in a colonial context. It is not surprising, therefore, that 

2 For more on the China Inland Mission see Austin 2007.


William Booth went out of his way to emphasize that his missionaries had 

no connection to the British government and received no funding from it. 

However militaristic his officers might be, they had been called by God 

alone and would rely solely on divine provision as they sought the salvation 

of India’s non-Christian populations (Times of India [hereafter cited as TI] 

Sept. 20, 1882:3). 

Processions and the Police 

The Salvation Army’s evangelistic activities would prove especially worrisome 

to colonial officials, who feared that the organization was sending a sizeable 

“invasion” force to India. This was a frequent concern whenever the Army 

arrived in a new country. Frederick Tucker and his party discovered as much 

when their ship, the S.S. Ancona, docked in Bombay on September 19, 1882. 

Waiting for them on the pier was a large contingent of constables, headed by 

Harry Brewin, the local police superintendent. Brewin was surprised to discover 

less than a handful of Salvationists disembarking from the boat, because 

he had been expecting a contingent numbering one thousand strong! Apparently, 

word had been spreading that the Salvation Army was about to launch 

an “attack” on the subcontinent, so the police were taking no chances. Because 

preventing disturbances, especially riots and bloodshed, was a large part of 

their responsibility in this multi-ethnic city, the Bombay authorities were not 

about to let an army of religious fanatics from England wage a holy war on 

unsuspecting Indians (Booth-Tucker 1923:12; Bullard 1946:11–12). 

This army may have initially consisted of just three youthful men and a 

woman, but its presence in Bombay would not go unnoticed, much to the 

dismay of the police and the colonial government. One major reason for 

this was the dress of Salvationists, because the male missionaries arrived on 

the subcontinent sporting yellow coats, Hindu shawls and white turbans 

(TI Sept. 20, 1882:3; Bombay Gazette Sept. 29, 1882:12). Their headgear was 

especially significant, representing a departure from the pith helmet worn so 

religiously by the British in colonial India (Collingham 2001:52–66, 88–91; 

Tarlo 1996:26–29). Although Mary Ann Thompson had arrived in European 

attire, it was not long before she too had adopted this strategy, exchanging her 

English dress for a green Indian sari (War Cry, Bombay [hereafter cited as 

WCB] Dec. 6, 1882:35). This type of approach was desperately needed in 

British India, which seldom saw anything but an anglicized version of Christianity. 

As Keshub Chunder Sen, the leader of a Hindu reform movement,


observed in 1879: “[T]he Christ that has come to us is an Englishman, with 

English manners and customs about him, and with the temper and spirit of an 

Englishman in him” (Keshub Chunder Sen’s Lectures 1901:363). By setting aside 

their European clothes, which symbolized the “superiority” and “dignity” 

of the ruling race, the Salvationist missionaries not only generated a great 

deal of attention but demonstrated that Christianity was far more than just a 

Western religion. 

Although adaptation in dress was a rarity in missionary circles, there were 

some who did appreciate the methods adopted by the Salvationists in India. 

Chief among them were the American Methodists working in the Bombay area. 

Methodist missions in this region owed their inspiration to William Taylor, 

a well-travelled bishop and evangelist attached to the Methodist Episcopal 

Church in the United States. Believing that missionaries should live simply – 

receiving their support from converts alone – he helped to ensure that the 

Methodist Episcopal missionaries in Bombay worked along these Pauline 

biblical lines (Taylor 1875:150–155; Taylor 1882:84, 114–115, 232–234; 

Bundy 1989:3–21). They may not have donned Indian clothing, but many of 

them had at least sought to close the material gap that lay between the average 

European missionary and their converts by forsaking the comforts of white 

society. Consequently, three of the American Methodists were on hand to 

greet Frederick Tucker and his missionary party when they sailed into the 

Bombay harbour. Among them was Wallace Gladwin, a forty year old minister 

from New York State, who had been engaged in missionary work on the subcontinent 

since 1871. His enthusiasm for the Salvation Army was so intense 

that he joined the organization almost immediately upon its arrival in India. 

Given the rank of “captain,” he went on to pioneer the work of the Army in 

Ceylon (Badley 1881:210; Smith 1981:5). 

Gladwin and his fellow missionaries were therefore one with the Salvationists 

as they marched down the pier and into the bustling city with their flag 

and instruments – a cornet, tambourine, and drum (TI Sept. 20, 1882:3). The 

Salvation Army’s penchant for public witness was even more evident the following 

day, when Frederick Tucker secured several bullock wagons, filled them 

with missionaries and supporters, and rode through the narrow streets to begin 

their work of evangelism. Apparently, the police gave the Army leader permission 

to hold the procession but warned him to avoid the use of music (Booth- 

Tucker 1923:13). Since Bombay was a multi-faith city – containing Hindus, 

Muslims, Parsis, Jews and Christians – the authorities remained worried that 

the tactics of these zealous missionaries, however few in number, would lead 

to public disturbances. Such fears were not unfounded, as religiously motivated


riots had occurred in the city in the past, most recently between Hindus and 

Muslims in the early 1870s. There were also longstanding tensions between the 

Parsi, the descendants of Iranian Zoroastrians, and other religious communities, 

including the Christian population. Missionary efforts to baptize several 

Parsi youth attached to Christian schools had sparked considerable controversy 

during the first half of the nineteenth century. Caution was therefore in 

order for the authorities, who did not relish the thought of further communal 

strife (Edwardes 1923:30–69; David 1995:218–220, 272–273; Palsetia 

2006:615–645). 

Frederick Tucker, however, did not see things this way. To demand that his 

missionaries proceed through the streets without music was unreasonable, 

because the success of the Salvation Army’s evangelistic methods depended on 

attracting attention. Believing that Salvationists would not be heard above 

the noise of the street-side bazaars, he decided to disobey the police’s order 

once the procession began. Not surprisingly, such defiance quickly led to 

the arrest of Arthur Norman, who was escorted to jail for playing his cornet 

(Bombay Gazette Sept. 29, 1882:3). Because no one else was taken into custody, 

the group continued to sing hymns as it proceeded down a main road, 

generating a great deal of attention in the process. Curious onlookers joined 

the march along the way, while a Muslim procession, with its own drums and 

instruments, approached from the opposite direction and appeared to be on a 

collision course with the Salvationists. Given the police presence in the 

area, no confrontation took place. Nevertheless, this episode likely confirmed 

the colonial government’s suspicion that an organization like the Salvation 

Army was a threat to the fragile peace of Bombay. Not only were the Salvationists 

unwilling to obey the police, but apparently they were also intending 

“to drive through the native town in their ‘chariots’ once or twice every day” 

(TI Sept. 21, 1882:3). For the authorities, who were fearful of the possible 

outcome, such a proposal was simply unacceptable. 

Even though Arthur Norman spent a night in jail, Frederick Tucker and his 

colleagues remained committed to evangelizing India in a very public fashion. 

Yet pursuing this strategy was bound to result in another clash with the colonial 

authorities, especially after the release of Norman on the 21st of September. 

At this time, the Police Superintendent, acting on the instructions of Sir 

James Fergusson, the Governor of Bombay, sought to restrict the Salvation 

Army’s processions altogether. Fergusson, an authoritarian and imperialist 

Scotsman with little regard for his subjects, had no sympathy for the Army’s 

efforts to reach the Indian people (Gupta 1978:232–246). Tucker discovered 

as much when he tried to secure police permission for another procession a


few days later – his request was flatly turned down. As might be expected, this 

decision did not sit well with the leader of the Army’s missionary party, who 

was determined to challenge the legality of the ruling. Such a test took place 

on Sunday September 24th, when the Salvationists began to march with 

instruments in hand to a theatre they had rented for an evening religious service. 

Confronted along the way by a senior police officer, who ordered the 

group to disperse by authority of the Queen, Tucker responded defiantly with 

equally authoritative words: “In the name of His Majesty, King of Kings and 

Lord of Lords, I command you to stand aside” (Cited in Smith 1981:6). Such 

an appeal may have demonstrated where Salvationists placed their allegiance, 

but it carried little weight with the secular authorities, who arrested and jailed 

three members of the procession – Tucker, Norman, and Thompson – for 

disorderly behaviour and for refusing to obey the orders of the police. Henry 

Bullard, meanwhile, managed to get to the theatre, where he boldly told the 

assembled crowd that Salvationists were determined to fight any efforts to suppress 

their public marches (TI Sept. 25, 1882:2). 

This stubborn desire to maintain a public witness made Salvationists unpopular 

among the Anglo residents of the subcontinent, who feared that the Salvation 

Army’s sensational tactics would bring Christianity into disrepute. As one 

British military officer stated bluntly, the Army was “particularly objectionable 

in a country like India, degrading as it does the religion of the ruling race” 

(Cited in Hatcher 1933:145). This sentiment was shared by the Bombay correspondent 

of the London Times, who warned that the organization’s “vulgar 

buffoonery,” carried on in plain sight of the Indian population, was bound “to 

degrade the solemn character of Christianity” (Times Sept. 25, 1882:3). Sir 

Lepel Griffin, Agent to the Governor General in Central India, went even 

further by warning Salvationists that their “degrading burlesques of the religion 

of the ruling power” would not be tolerated in any jurisdictions under his 

authority (Bombay Gazette Feb. 23, 1883:7–8). As far as Griffin was concerned, 

the Army’s missionaries “should be treated as inconvenient political 

offenders and be deported from India” (Bombay Gazette Apr. 6, 1883:4). From 

the perspective of colonial officials, the missionary task in India was to 

strengthen “the imperial foundations of British power [by] rais[ing] our 

national repute in the eyes of the many millions of people committed to our 

charge” (Temple 1883:164). Missionaries were supposed to put a respectable 

face on the European presence on the subcontinent, not bruise imperial pride 

as the Salvationists had done. The Salvation Army’s noisy processions, led by 

missionaries dressed in Oriental fashion, hardly represented the dignity and 

superiority of a ruling nation’s religion.


Opposition to the Salvation Army continued to arise as well from the fear 

that its aggressive public evangelism would lead to religious rioting. The Bombay 

newspaper Native Opinion was quick to emphasize this point. While generally 

supportive of religious liberty, the paper believed that the authorities 

had acted wisely towards a militant group like the Salvation Army. The paper 

was particularly afraid that the Army’s denominational flag, emblazoned with 

the words “Blood and Fire” – an allusion to the blood of Christ and the fire of 

the Holy Spirit – would “only prove a red rag to an ignorant and exasperated 

crowd” (Native Opinion Oct. 1, 1882:628). Similar sentiments were put forward 

by the prosecutor who tried the Army members in court. Pointing out 

that Muslims had already shown their hostility towards the Salvation Army by 

holding counter demonstrations, he argued that trouble was bound to arise if 

Salvationists continued to hold processions in the streets (TI Sept. 26, 1882:5). 

Bombay’s governor also shared these concerns about the potential for violence 

and disorder. Writing to the Secretary of State for India in November 1882, 

James Fergusson explained that the “distinctly aggressive” nature of the Army’s 

processions was capable of eliciting negative reactions from the “native” sections 

of the city, where the streets were narrow and crowded (Fergusson 1882:2–3). 

Fergusson therefore felt that the police had acted appropriately in restricting 

such militant open-air evangelism, which was bound to stir up religious passions 

if left unchecked. 

While not unanimous in their approval of the Salvation Army, Indian 

observers were quick to realize how the efforts of Salvationists to “go native” 

might tarnish Britain’s imperial image on the subcontinent. As The Subodh 

Patrika, an Anglo-Marathi newspaper, noted in late September 1882: “The 

procedure and garb adopted by the Salvationists resemble the native ways so 

much that the secular Europeans probably consider them calculated to bring 

their race and religion into contempt” (Cited in Report on Native Papers 

1882:18). The Hindu reformer Keshub Chunder Sen, writing from Calcutta, 

came to the same conclusion: “The Government of Bombay is determined to 

expel the Salvationists from the country. Why? Because they wear native dress 

and because the adoption of native manners on the part of one who was an 

official would bring the governing class into contempt” (Cited in Indian Social 

Reformer 1920:1). Frederick Tucker, a former civil servant on the subcontinent, 

was hardly exemplifying British respectability and honour by parading 

through Bombay’s Hindu and Muslim quarters in yellow clothes and a white 

turban. Although some Indians and missionaries respected the Army’s earliest 

efforts to adapt to the culture, imperial functionaries were less than amused by 

such a strategy.


Processions and the Cause of Religious Liberty 

The government was likely even less amused by the criticism that came its way 

as influential Indians and missionaries rallied around the Salvation Army. One 

striking instance of this support for Salvationists took place at a very large 

protest meeting held in Calcutta in early October. Described by one local 

paper as “a Hindu gathering with a sprinkling of Christians,” this demonstration, 

numbering in the thousands, gave the educated elite of Bengal the chance 

to voice their protest over the treatment of Frederick Tucker and his missionary 

band (Bengalee Oct. 14, 1882:486). Keshub Chunder Sen, who helped to 

organize the rally, told supporters that the state’s actions were “contrary to the 

policy of a civilized and humane Government” and capable of endangering 

“the rights and liberties of all classes” (Statesman and Friend of India [hereafter 

cited as SFI] Oct. 9, 1882:3). This conviction was stated even more forcefully 

by Surendranath Banerjea, a journalist and rising Indian nationalist leader. 

Going out of his way to contrast British intolerance with what he described as 

Hinduism’s long tradition of tolerance, Banerjea chided the English for their 

failure to live up to their professed ideals of religious freedom. Even more 

strident were the views of another Indian speaker, who “advised Englishmen 

first to get rid of their own superstitious ideas and their religious intolerance 

before they came to convert the natives” (Ibid.). While the Calcutta meeting 

had been staged to show solidarity with the beleaguered Salvationists, it also 

provided a significant opportunity for the Indian intelligentsia to criticize 

British rule in their country. The British people may have prided themselves 

on their love for justice and fair play, but their government’s efforts to suppress 

the processions of the Army revealed just how hollow such principles could be 

in a colonial setting. 

While not wanting to undermine the empire, missionaries were also among 

those who came to the defence of the Salvation Army. The Harvest Field, the 

leading missionary periodical on the subcontinent, was quick to note that 

Salvationists had encountered “harsh treatment” from the Bombay police. But 

as the journal went on to add, the Army’s missionaries had Christ on their side 

and no need of assistance from the state (Harvest Field Oct. 1882:127–128). 

Another prominent Christian paper, The Bombay Guardian, shared in this 

condemnation, arguing that the work of the Salvationists had been “shackled 

with disabilities” by a police force that was “supposed to exist for the purpose 

of affording protection to all classes of citizens” (Bombay Guardian Sept. 30, 

1882:609). Other evangelical allies of the Salvation Army echoed these sentiments, 

convinced that it was wrong for the authorities to place any obstacle in


the path of Christian witness. Chief among them were the Army’s Methodist 

allies in Bombay, who complained that the actions of the authorities were 

“unwarrantably harsh and an unjustifiable interference with the[ir] rights and 

liberties” (Bombay Guardian Oct. 7, 1882:626). The police’s conduct was 

patently unfair, for as one passionate believer asserted: “[I]f Hindus and 

Mahomedans are allowed to parade [through] the streets, Christians should 

be also” (Pioneer Oct. 19, 1882:6). Joining in the chorus of protest were 

the Baptists, who noted with concern: “If rights may be infringed with impunity, 

it will be in the power of any policeman in the country to put an effectual 

stop to missionary work” (Indian Baptist Nov. 1882:414–415). Missionaries 

gathering in Calcutta concurred by passing a resolution to the effect that 

the persecution of Tucker’s party represented a “grave danger to the liberty 

of [all] missionaries” (Bombay Guardian Mar. 24, 1883:182). These appeals 

to religious freedom underscored the evangelical position on India. In the 

words of historian Peter van der Veer, the “minimal goal [for evangelicals was] 

not to be hindered by the state in their efforts to convert people in a free 

market of opinion and, at most, to have that aim supported by the state” 

(Veer 2001:22). Not surprisingly, therefore, many missionaries in India viewed 

the government’s restrictions on Salvationist activity as a violation of this 

liberal principle. 

What really raised the ire of Army sympathisers was the belief that colonial 

governments in India were answerable to Christian Britain, meaning that they 

had an obligation to favour missionaries over Hindus, Muslims and Parsis. In 

theory, pious Christians might demand that colonial officials give equal treatment 

to all religions in India, but in practice they expected those in power to 

act out of a sense of Christian responsibility. While promoting “free trade” in 

religion, they continued to have little patience with colonial officials who 

failed to raise the moral tone of the “heathen” subcontinent. This position was 

expressed with particular force by one supporter of the Salvation Army, who 

was quite upset that the government could allow “idolatrous” Hindu processions 

while denying the earnest efforts of Salvationists. Such action, he warned, 

was sure to arouse God’s wrath (SFI Oct. 6, 1882:2). As another observer 

stressed, while one might not approve of the Army’s sensational methods, it 

was wrong for a professedly Christian government to suppress a movement 

that adhered to the same faith (Pioneer Oct. 30, 1882:7). While the evangelical 

response to the treatment of Frederick Tucker’s party was inspired by the 

issue of religious liberty, a longstanding concern of nonconformists, it also 

stemmed from the belief that the Bombay authorities, as representatives of 

Christian Britain, had somehow failed the cause of Christianity.


Experiencing repeated arrests and imprisonments between September 1882 

and April 1883, the Salvationists would buttress their own defence by appeals 

to religious freedom, turning especially to Queen Victoria’s Proclamation of 

1858 for support. The Queen’s Proclamation was a decree meant to appease 

Indians after the Indian Mutiny or uprising of 1857, which had been partly 

caused by a perceived British insensitivity to the religious beliefs of Hindu and 

Muslim sepoys (soldiers). 3 Troubles had come to the surface when rumours 

spread that the British were going to use cartridges greased with cow and pork 

fat in their new Enfield rifles. This animal grease was bound to offend both 

Hindus and Muslims, since the cow was sacred to the former and the pig defiling 

to the latter. While no such cartridges actually found their way into the 

rifles used by Indian soldiers, this particular incident became the catalyst for 

disgruntled sepoys, who sparked a series of revolts in northern India. In the 

immediate aftermath of this rebellion, which was not completely suppressed 

until 1858, the British government became increasingly wary of offending the 

sensibilities of their Indian subjects. Nowhere was this more apparent than in 

the 1858 Proclamation, wherein Queen Victoria asserted: 

[W]e disclaim alike the right and desire to impose our convictions on any of our subjects. 

We declare it to be our royal will and pleasure that none be in anywise favoured, 

none molested or disquieted by reason of their religious faith or observances, but that 

all shall alike enjoy the equal and impartial protection of the law. (Cited in Philips 

1962:11) 

Notwithstanding the personal views of British colonial rulers, who were often 

Christian by profession, this royal declaration underscored an official policy of 

religious neutrality on the subcontinent. 

Missionaries were never very pleased with Britain’s position on religious 

neutrality in the post-Mutiny era, but they were willing to turn to the 1858 

Proclamation when they felt that their own work was under threat. If this 

declaration could be used to protect the sensibilities of Hindus and Muslims, 

it could also be interpreted to guarantee Christian freedom to evangelize the 

so-called heathen masses. This, at least, was the logic used by Frederick Tucker 

to defend the Salvation Army’s right to parade down the Hindu and Muslim 

quarters of Bombay. As he argued in court, Queen Victoria’s Proclamation 

referred to the rights of all religionists. Drawing attention to the numerous 

3 For more on this Indian revolt, which had a number of causes beyond the cartridge controversy, 

see David 2002; Sen 1992; and Stokes 1986.


Hindu and Muslim processions that took place in the city on a regular basis, 

Tucker contended that the authorities were obliged under the law to provide 

Salvationists with the same privileges. Religious neutrality meant equal protection 

for all groups, and, as he went on to emphasize, if the Army could have 

its rights taken away then the same fate awaited others. The state’s interference 

in matters of faith was contrary to the spirit of the proclamation, and likely 

to endanger the freedom of all religious groups (Bombay Gazette Nov. 3, 

1882:18). 

Even though Frederick Tucker’s arguments were meant to defend the right 

of Christians to evangelize publicly on the subcontinent, Indian observers 

were also quick to recognize that the actions of the Bombay police held 

troubling implications for their own religious communities. Commenting on 

the first confrontations between the police and the Salvationists, The Hindoo 

Patriot drew explicit reference to this danger. While obviously not in agreement 

with missionary attempts to proselytize the members of other religions, 

the newspaper asserted that Hindu people “cannot consistently with their own 

interests object to the spirit of perfect religious toleration followed by the Government 

of India” (Hindoo Patriot Oct. 2, 1882:477). Repressive state action 

could be directed towards them if they failed to speak out in defence of religious 

liberty. Another Indian paper agreed, noting: “We are deliberately of 

[the] opinion that in th[e] case [of the Salvationists] there has been a violation 

of the principle of religious toleration” (Bengalee Oct. 7, 1882:472). Similar 

conclusions had been drawn by members of the Indian community meeting 

in Calcutta in early October to protest the treatment of the Salvation Army. In 

a letter addressed to the Viceroy, Lord Ripon, they made it clear that if the 

proclamation “be departed from in the case of even a single individual, be his 

creed or race what it may be, . . . [then] common liberty becomes endangered” 

(SFI Oct. 9, 1882:3). Put simply, the case involving the Salvation Army had a 

bearing on the freedom afforded to all religious faiths in India. 

The Bombay authorities, however, remained unconvinced by these appeals 

to religious liberty. Their fears continued to rest upon the possibility of religious 

riots if the Salvation Army continued to evangelize so publicly and 

aggressively. They viewed the 1858 Proclamation as a measure designed to 

keep overly zealous Christian missionaries from imposing their faith on Muslims 

and Hindus. Although supporters of the Army denied that the Salvationists 

had been forceful in the sharing of their faith, the prosecution provided 

witnesses who claimed otherwise. One eyewitness not only complained that 

Frederick Tucker and his fellow missionaries were thrusting their beliefs on 

others, but went on to add that their evangelism was especially objectionable


to Muslims, who “complained to him every day that the Salvationists called 

them [sinners]” (TI Mar. 3, 1883:5). While the Salvationists denied that they 

had insulted any religious community, there can be little doubt that they 

actively targeted those of other faiths. As Louisa Tucker conceded under crossexamination, 

a Salvation Army procession “was [meant] to get [people] to give 

up their religion” (Bombay Gazette Mar. 9, 1883:13). Accordingly, the organization 

remained convinced of the necessity of parading down streets lined 

with Muslim mosques and Hindu temples. Convinced that salvation came 

through Christ alone, it believed that the only way to get this message across 

was to attract the attention of Indian people in the neighbourhoods where 

they lived and worshipped (TI Oct. 27, 1882:6). 

It was this kind of public and aggressive evangelism that most concerned 

the judges who ruled on the processions of the Salvation Army. Dosabhoy 

Framjee, one of the first magistrates to deal with the case, stressed that if 

Salvationists were “com[ing] to this country to convert people from one faith 

to another, they must avoid noisy and peculiar demonstrations, which are 

sure to give rise to passions and angry feelings and counter-demonstrations” 

(TI Sept. 28, 1882:3). By threatening public tranquillity, the Army’s marches 

constituted unlawful assemblies under the Indian Penal Code (O’Kinealy 

1900:84–95). Similar rulings were made by higher courts, which considered 

the Army’s processions to be “missionary agencies” rather than expressions of 

praise and worship (TI Mar. 22, 1883:5). As such, they were likely to create 

disturbances in the “native” sections of Bombay. Even if, as the court finally 

concluded, the Salvationists had not intended to arouse the hostilities of Muslims 

or Hindus, some solution was necessary in order to prevent more serious 

problems in the future. In the end, therefore, the court suggested that the 

Salvation Army be allowed to march through the city’s streets, but avoid 

the use of music in strictly Muslim areas. In other words, it must abide by 

the spirit of the law, and do nothing further to threaten the public peace. 

Likely frustrated by the Salvation Army’s prolonged confrontations with 

the authorities, Frederick Tucker finally agreed to this proposal. In his eyes, 

such an agreement was a victory for the Army rather than a compromise 

with the state (WCB April 25, 1883:116; WCL May 23, 1883:1). Viewing 

the matter in similar terms was The Bombay Guardian, which claimed that 

“it concedes to Christians the rights so freely accorded to other religionists” 

(Bombay Guardian Apr. 21, 1883:243). Whether or not this agreement represented 

a convincing victory for Salvationists and other missionaries, it ultimately 

brought the Salvation Army’s dramatic confrontation with the colonial 

government to a close.

Conclusion 


One would not have expected a small missionary party arriving in India during 

the late-Victorian period to garner so much publicity, especially in a country 

of more than 250 million people. The Salvation Army, however, believed 

that sensational measures were necessary in order to win the lost, and this 

revivalist conviction quickly brought attention to the Salvationists who arrived 

in Bombay in September 1882. Their presence could not be missed – their 

dress was hardly typical of other Christians from the West and their processions 

were anything but quiet and unobtrusive. While their revivalist measures 

soon revealed how fragile religious freedom could be in British India, even 

after Queen Victoria’s Proclamation, they also highlighted the distance that lay 

between the Salvation Army and imperial governments. The Army’s evangelists 

were willing to defy the colonial authorities who sought to impede their 

public witness, basing their authority on the King of Kings rather than the 

Queen of England. For The Indu Prakash, the Anglo-Marathi paper in Bombay, 

this was something to be admired: “The Salvationists may be laughed at and 

ridiculed; but they have at least this in their favour – that they will not be 

affected by political considerations” (Cited in Report on Native Papers 1882:18). 

Although the British Empire may have made missionary work possible, there 

was no guarantee that it would embrace the kind of evangelism carried out by 

the Salvation Army. As Calcutta’s Statesman and Friend of India observed soon 

after the missionaries arrived in Bombay: “[W]hatever the Salvationists may 

do or attempt, they have nothing to do with the Government except in the 

way of antagonism” (SFI Sept. 30, 1882:2). The Salvation Army may not have 

been anti-colonialist, but during its earliest days in India it was quite capable 

of engendering state opposition in pursuit of its evangelical ends. In the process, 

Salvationists not only elicited support from Indians themselves, but also 

demonstrated how heavy handed the British Empire could be when its authority 

was called into question. At this point, at least, the Salvation Army’s presence 

in India was an embarrassment to the British government, making the 

task of colonial oversight harder rather than easier. 

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Religion contre Raj : l’‘invasion’ de l’Inde britannique par l’armée du salut 

Apparue comme mission dans l’Est de Londres en 1865, l’armée du salut se fit rapidement 

connaître pour son évangélisation militante et non conventionnelle dans les rues des villes et 

villages britanniques. Convaincus que les âmes non repenties étaient vouées à l’enfer, les salutistes 

usèrent de tactiques à sensation pour attirer l’attention des classes ouvrières inférieures. Cette


stratégie ne changea pas lorsque l’armée du salut envoya un petit groupe de missionnaires à 

Bombay, en 1882. Non seulement ils arrivaient habillés à l’indienne, mais ils parcouraient les 

rues de la ville en processions bruyantes. Alors que ces méthodes reflétaient la théologie revivaliste 

de l’armée du salut, elles firent entrer en collision les salutistes et les autorités coloniales. 

Craignant que l’évangélisation à sensation et agressive de l’Armée entraîne des émeutes religieuses 

et ridiculise la religion de la race dominante, la police de Bombay arrêta les salutistes à plusieurs 

occasions entre septembre 1882 et avril 1883. Bien que les résidents britanniques de la ville 

aient en général approuvé l’action de la police, de nombreux Indiens et missionnaires prirent la 

défense de l’organisation évangélisatrice, pensant que les agents impériaux avaient agi injustement 

envers les missionnaires de l’Armée. Encouragés par ce soutien, les salutistes défièrent à de 

nombreuses reprises l’autorité coloniale au bénéfice de la liberté religieuse, montrant par leur 

parole et leurs actions que l’armée du salut ne pouvait être que profitable à la stabilité et au prestige 

impérial sur le subcontinent. 

“Religion gegenüber dem Raj: Die ‘Invasion’ der Heilsarmee im britischen Indien” 

Seit ihrem Anfang als Mission in East London 1865 wurde die Heilsarmee schnell bekannt für 

ihre engagierte und unkonventionelle Mission auf den Straßen der britischen Ortschaften und 

Städte. Überzeugt, dass unbekehrte Seelen in die Hölle kommen würden, verwenden die Salutisten 

sensationelle Taktiken, um die Aufmerksamkeit der unteren Arbeiterklassen zu erwecken. 

Diese Strategie änderte sich nicht, als die Heilsarmee eine kleine Gruppe von Missionaren 1882 

nach Bombay schickte. Sie kamen nicht nur in indischer Kleidung an, sondern veranstalteten 

auch lärmende Prozessionen durch die Straßen der Stadt. Diese Methoden spiegelten die 

erweckungsbezogene Theologie der Heilsarmee wieder, brachten die Salutisten aber auch in 

Konflikt mit den kolonialen Autoritäten. In der Angst, dass die aggressive und sensationelle 

Mission der Heilsarmee zu religiösen Unruhen führen und die Religion der herrschenden Rasse 

lächerlich machen würde, verhaftete die Polizei von Bombay die Salutisten mehrere Male 

zwischen September 1882 und April 1883. Obwohl die britischen Siedler der Stadt generell die 

Aktionen der Polizei unterstützten, verteidigten viele Inder und Missionare die Missionsorganisation 

und glaubten, dass die Kolonialbeamten ungerecht gegen die Missionare der Heilsarmee 

gehandelt hatten. Gestützt auf diese Hilfe forderten die Salutisten die koloniale Autorität mehrmals 

in der Frage religiöser Freiheit heraus und zeigten durch ihre Worte und Handlungen, dass 

die Heilsarmee nur ein Vorteil sein könnte für die imperiale Stabilität und ihren guten Ruf auf 

dem Subkontinent.

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