A “WOWSER” AND HIS WORK.

Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXI, Issue 48, 11 October 1911, Page 2

A “WOWSER” AND HIS WORK.

[By Ernest. Low in Sydney “Sun. ']

Referring to the.. Rev. R-, B. S. Hammond, Rector of St. Simon's and St. Jude’s, Sydney, who, visits Stratford shortly, a Sydney writer says: A rough sited at the rear of a small house standing unostentatiously in a side street running off a much-fre-quented tram route in a busy workingclass neighbourhood. It is dimly lighted by a rough acetylene flare. : A motley gathering sits here to-night. Perhaps some twenty to thirty in all occupy the benches and chairs: most of them, belong to the order of what Harold Bogbio has so lim-ly described as “broken earthenware.” Some broken and “pieced” together again; some hoping to undergo tint I process—else they would not be here. The facet tell stories—sad, sordid, wicked, vicious, or merely weak. But all irradiated with some prospect—be it never so dim and remote—of a not unhappy ending. There sits ,respectably dressed, clean ,composed, a man who was a notorious burglar in his time—mow for some years working contentedly in a regular job, saving a little, helping others. , Here an old “two-up” school, and, dancing-hall keeper; close by a quondam tlpef of great notoriety. A broken-down professional man, an artist who had, a knack of spending money twice as fast as he could make it; many cjrunkards, wasters, derelicts of all kinds. They are here, because they are trying to travel the hard roqd hack. Some have gone already quite a long distance along it; some, are just setting out ; others seeking for a signpost. Here they come for a,material help, for a trusty guide, for a “hand upon their shoulder in a friendly sort bf why.” One sits at the harmonium and plays hymn times, which are sung lustily. They, sing one, wait for a little while, then another is suggested, and. again, thoir voices ring out .with more heartiness, it must be confessed in many cases, than musical ability. .They are whiling away the time. They are evidently waiting for someone. Yon can see that by the glances towards the doorless openings through which the wind hums with not too friendly keenness . And they keep, on singing. The expected arrival is here at last. A hand-shake here and there, a friendly greeting all round, and he stops up to, the front near the harmonium. A short prayer. Another hymn—this time well led, and, so sung with more precision and attention to time. Then he begins ,to deliver a short address. Look at him well. He is worth notice—this man in v the orthodox garb of a Church of England parson. Well worth observing as a man. Somewhat over the middle height, lean, broad in the shoulder, and thin in the flank, muscular, alert. He looks as if ho had a great fund of nervous energy; the clean skin, the bright eye, tell of “.condition.’ . You would] ,say that he had a good “punch’,’ in him. I know that he was—a good many years ago —not the worst member of the best

football team of his day in Australia

Listen to his talk. /TajVjis really what it is—not a sermon, scarcely i ' j i . -.J I' )t - * even an address. Ho. talks Christianity, not. theology,, nor nor doctrine, nor dogma, nor scientific evidence. He does, not talk of hell. Such speaking would .fall fiat upon his' present auditors. Each of them has.been in or is in his own particular hell of his, own. making, or of ;his environment. What ' they want, jhe

gives thcni. He knows- men.' Figuratively speaking, IV knows the futility of putting the clilfcrential calculus liefore baby minds.-'These men must, in the vast majority of cases, he treated to. a course .of simple, addition ami substruction. What they need is Hop-*. He talks Hope to them. llappiit'.-, s. is what they, wapt. They have, a light to it. More—even Pleasure. Haw to raise them, as Professor James has it, from being “consciously wrong,, inferior, and unhappy” to .the state

of being “consciously right, superior

and happy.” That, surely is the .object of. all religion, philosophy, teaching. Firstly, they must, try' to sweep away, to get rid of all the obstacles to right living, even to material success. Christianity, first and last, ho

holds will do it. But. he is sternly practical. These, men are poor, some of them have been living in a state of semi-starvation, outcast—if not ! actually criminal. With the aid of others who believe in him and his work lie feeds them, enables them to cleqn.se themselves, tides them over a bad time, often secures' for them permanent work. When he talks to them he inveigbs against the vices and sins which have dragged them down-—per-sonal impurity, merely self-seeking! desire for gain, gambling, drink, and especially drink. This, man is a “Wowser.” So he'has been dubbed by the enviously vicious, the. snocrers, the unthinking who, par-rot-like, adopt any expression invented by those whose mission in life would appear to ho to heap contumely upon all who strive for the uplifting )f their fellows. Ho believes in purity of life, in abstention from all that stands in the way of the development of the true self. He is quite candid. He will admit that ho does not think that the abuse of drink is the most loadly sin to which human nature is uldktod. But it is painfully concrete. It can lie made the objective of a direct frontal attack. Its baneful remits are ever before one’s eyes. It is widespread, it is insidious. And above all other seasons for giving it no quarter is the fact that it obsesses nany a man who but for it. would be a line, noble fellow. Such men it drags down, negatives, all the other good and generous qualities which might he oi such inestimable benefit to themselves and to their fellows. This “Wowser,” as I have said, is pre-eminently practical. He, does not.

hold tliat religion and goodness go hand in hand with a gloomy outlook

on life and the hereafter, with a morose disposition, with gloomy lorbodings as to the inherent wickedness of mankind. Hear him talk of Pleasure. The pleasure of a body clean and vigorous inside and out, of an active mind, of steady work, of a good appetite, sound sleep, the companionship

of wife and children, of being able to walk down the street fit to look

every man squarely in the eye. Hear

him contrast this with the state of a man who has ruined his nerves by

excess, who shakes and shivers, fan-

cies offence whore none is meant, thinks ho is being pursued by imaginary locs. Disordered nerves. The pleasures of conviviality! Has sarcasm appeals to his hearers. Haven’t you tried itt Don't you all know it from experience P Are you quite satisfied with the years that have passed? Middle life is hero with' some of you—age will be upon you presently-—is it good enough ? Sound, hifrd commonsense here. You might object that it is all a trifle too materialistic ;that he beseeches those men to live better lives just because of the material benefits that will accrue to them thereby. Maybe; hut lie knows the stuff with which he is dealing. Ho knows what will appeal to them. He' must meet them on their

own plane, and with most of them that

plane is—for tho present—Die physical plane. 1 told you lie knows men. Tiiis is only a beginning. This is only

pioneer work. The breaking up of very different ground. When you are trying’to' Save li Jioor man from drown-

ing you do 'not for a' moment think of what provision iri tb he made for his future! YOur only care is to bring him to the ! hank! This solver of derelicts does not

deal much'hi logic, nor with the philosophical and metaphysical side of things. Love is "greater than logic, passion lias within it vastly more dynamic force than all the philosophies of tho world. He tells you that his Christianity is personal experience. Ho knows. 'He does riot strive to help these men because it is the right thing to do, or because he is convinced that it is the only way to “save his own soul,” or even because such is ordered in the Scriptures. Ho is past: all that—all argument, all need of conviction. Clean off the intellectual plane. Far beyond it. This passion foi helping others has taken possession of him. It dominates him with its fiery intensity. It is his .life. It hills every pore of him, leaves’ no room for any other passinn. Literally it fills* ' Ink ' life. Wo see him to-night talking in this humble shed at ‘-the hack of tho “Home,” where a few of his lost sheep find rest and shelter. To-riiorrow, off to the country to lecture and preach and collect money for the work; a few days after officiating at the church in 1 the poorest parish in Sydney of which'lie is rebtor. Perpetually scouring Hlhe ! slums, 'seeking out the wrctchcd -fri 'giv6 them" material aid, help of any,"kind?"Spending much of diis own--paltvjv' stipend—very often “taken down”—knowing that, and minding not 'at all. Results —well, there are men "walking about the city to-day “consciously right, superior, and happy,’ 1 * who a few-,sliort months ago appeared to be irretrievably “down and out.” But he doesn’t worry about results, this “Wowser,” any more than does ho trouble about logically defining or explaining his position. Schemes for ameliorating tho condition of tho people as a whole he loaves to others. His call is plain and direct! His mission is to look for those who want help—and to help them. Docs not this man present a rather curious phenomenon in this presentday sordid, money-making, devil-holp-the-hindmost Sydney of ours? Just reflect upon it for a moment. Amongst individuals we all know—one has a passion for horse-racing, another for theatre-going, a third for women, a fourth for strong liquors, a fifth for amassing money, and so on. They grudge no money, nor time, nor ‘trouble—they would laugh if you risked them to justify on legal grounds tneir predilection. This man’s passion is for helping other people! That is all—That is what singles him out for the sneers, the insinuations, the contempt of a certain section of the community. “Narrow,” you. say. Possibly—but “Intense” would better describe him. It is that thin, fierce blow-pipe flame' which molts ■ metals. “Intolerant,” “one-sided”—yes, it is easy to , reel out strings of adjectives to belittle a man for whom “not so bad” and “good enough,” which do for the generality have to give place to the positive “good” and “bad,” “right” and “wrong.” The fact is what is so intensely irritating, galling, to most of us, with our facile laisser faire attitude towards life, is that this man, whether as regards drink in the abstract, no-license, morality, and Christ, is so absolutely unshaken, positive, and single-hearted. “An unbalanced enthusiast,” I heard him called l>v a dignitary of the church whose non-comnntt.:u utterances are much applauded by tho “Trade.” Well, is it not precisely those “unbalanced' enthusiasts,” those, “one-ideal fanatics,”

who have moved the world? Think of them all—think what they have done! From Luther to General Booth, from Columbus to Peary; coming to smaller men and smaller matters, perhaps in our time, think of Plimsoll, the one-time “bore” of the House of Commons; Henniker Heaton, tho penny postage “crank” ; Cecil -John Rhodes, with Ins “dream” of a United South Africa—all “one-idea” men, all “lacking in a sense of proportion,” all unbalanced enthusiasts,” who, by virtue of their so-called “narrowness,” which was really concentration of mind, body and soul, accomplished mighty tilings while their colder critics were trying to take in the whole mountain by wandering round and catching glimpses of its varying aspects. They never got hot; they kept their heads; they professed to want to see all sides of

a question. And so they were hopelessly left—with their properly correct theories! But my “Wowser” needs no vindication. . Whatever you or I or the whole world say or think of him will make no difference. As L have said before, he is beyond argument, logic, controversy, with regal'd to the central fact of his life. How much the less, then, is he likely to he affected by unthinking sneer, jealous censure, or unmerited slander? But.-1 do not envy tho state of mind of that man who, either through sheer soullossncss or a hide-bound materialism, could find it in his heart to attempt to belittle tho life and character of a fel-low-man whp is doing quietly, unostentatiously, determinedly, what is really the mightiest work which is being carried on in this great city. The least wo, to whom this passion "for tho welfare of others is mysterious and incomprehensible, can do is-to be silent. If we cannot—or will not—help, lot ns refrain from doing aught that can hinder. Amid tho babel of talk here is a man who is doing something! It will do ns no harm, assuredly, to watch him for a while—and think!

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