I thank God that I long ago got far beyond being taunted with youth, and suspected of an enthusiasm which is a mere ardour of the blood, untried by experience of life. The sweet visions of my early youth, when I used to sit under the shade of the trees in my father’s home, and read of the holy martyrs and dream of a golden age, are nothing compared with the hope and enthusiasm which God gives me now, and which He has continued to give me while health failed, and some present hopes were blighted, and my way began to be strewn with the graves of those I loved, and I trod the lonely path of widowhood, and the world’s worst evils continued to glare in my eyes. I have had sharp, deep wounds, and long conflict of soul; but now ought not I, if anyone ought, to tell out the hopes which God gives me, and to speak of the ever-widening horizon which I see illumined by His redeeming love?
Return unto thy rest, O my soul;
For the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee.
The following paragraph is part of an interview given in Wings, the official organ of the Women’s Total Abstinence Union, January, 1895.
I have often had occasion, in the course of many years of arduous work, again and again to meet groups of my fellow-workers, especially on the Continent, who have confessed themselves subjected to periods of deep depression and disappointment. Having gone through the same experience myself, and having been driven back upon God again and again, when everything seemed dark and hopeless, He has taught me some precious lessons which I have been called to impart sometimes to others. The central truth to which I have learned to hold fast is this truth—that death must precede resurrection; that in every cause which is truly God’s cause failures and disappointments are not only familiar things, but even necessary for the final success of the cause. It is the lesson of the Cross. That scene on Calvary was for the moment, or seemed to be, the wreck of all the hopes of the followers of Christ. The spirit of the poor disciples walking on the road to Emmaus who said, “We trusted that it had been He who should have redeemed Israel,” is a true picture of the experience probably of every true reformer. But when God has Himself led us into some of His secrets, and the inner meaning of His providential guidings, we no longer despond; for we come to know that it is a law in the Kingdom of Grace that death must precede resurrection. “Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.” For many years past therefore I have been able, by God’s grace, not only to acquiesce in apparent failure time after time, but even in a measure to rejoice, knowing that the way is thus being prepared, both in our own hearts and in the outward circumstances, for a more complete victory in the end.
[CHAPTER XV.]
GENEVA.
A Doomed Iniquity was the title of a pamphlet issued by Josephine Butler in 1896. It embodied an authoritative condemnation of State Regulation of Vice from persons of very different trains of thought, in France, Germany, and Belgium, who regarded the question from various points of view—scientific, political and religious—but all agreed in proclaiming the complete failure and injustice of the system, “of which they have had a far longer experience than we in England had.” The first was from Dr. Charles Mauriac, who at one time strongly defended the system, but had now published a book on the hygienic aspect of the question, in which he declared that the old coercive method was “breaking to pieces on all sides like a worm-eaten building on the point of falling to ruin,” and advocated a new method “which will emancipate woman from the last remnants of slavery, and render her free, as men are, to enter a hospital and to leave it without constraint whenever it seems good to her.” The second was from Herr Bebel, the leader of the Socialist party in Germany, who pointed out the failure, cruelty and injustice of the system—a flagrant injustice which was “only possible because it is men alone who govern and who make the laws.” The third opinion was given in a memorial to the Pope, from the Belgian Society of Public Morality, signed by all the Catholic bishops of Belgium, and others including the Prime Minister, praying his “Holiness to condemn, with an authority which is recognised by the whole world, this system so fatal to the well-being of souls, and so dangerous to the social order.”
Herr Bebel’s statement had been written to a Swiss friend, for use in the struggle at Geneva, referred to in the following letters, when a blind popular vote endorsed the recognition by the administration of “tolerated houses.” It is worth noting that eleven years later the Federal High Court of Switzerland pronounced the establishment of such houses in Geneva to be illegal: “comme contraire aux bonnes mœurs,” adding, “le fait qu’il serait autorisé par l’administration ne saurait lui enlever ce caractère.”
To various friends.
Geneva, March 25th, 1896.
I have been called to witness a dark page in the history of human life. It is pain to me to have to record it; but its lessons are needful and solemn, and I wish I had a voice to reach to the end of the civilised world, that those lessons might be heard. How many years we have had the hard task imposed on us of trying to show people—good people—the horrible principles embodied in the State regulation of vice, and the results which must necessarily follow—and they would not, will not believe us.
I must tell you first the dark side, and we must not shrink from letting it be known far and wide; and then I will go back and record the events of the last fortnight, among which you will find many things which will make you glad, as they have made us glad, in the midst of so much horror. Well you already know the result of the Popular Vote. We had 4068 as against 8300—a crushing defeat. But presently I must explain to you how the people were misled by the Government; so that this cannot be quite truly said to be the verdict of the people, though to all the world it seems so. It will be and is a great triumph for our adversaries everywhere. As M. Ador said (one of our friends in the Grand Council), it is (he believed) the first time in the history of the world when a moral question of such import has been submitted to the verdict of the people, and their verdict is in favour of continued legalised vice; and it is the first time that the popular vote has been taken on the basis of the “Droit d’Initiative,” a recent law in Switzerland from which much good was expected.
The horrors revealed last week, and especially those of Sunday night, have however so far exceeded the dismay caused by the immense majority against us, that I must speak first of those. And you will not wonder when I say that I am glad, as many others are, that the gates of this Inferno were thrown open, and that the results of a hundred years of Government organised and protected vice have been for once fully revealed. In a meeting on Monday of our gentlemen (who now number some hundreds of really convinced and militant abolitionists) they asked me some questions about our English battle, and in answering I said, “Gentlemen, you are able to face the truth, which is that Geneva is governed by the brothel keepers (tenanciers). They are the masters of the city, the masters of the situation. It is they, with their following, who have now given a mandate to the Council of State and the Grand Council, to strengthen their position, and to plant more firmly than ever in your midst government by tenanciers.” They all agreed. “It is true, it is true,” they cried. “It is of no use to disguise it.”
Sunday morning—the voting day—rose brilliantly, a blue sky without a cloud, and the most brilliant sunshine. Mme. de Gingins and I went to an early service in a Free Church, where most of our friends go. They sent me a message to speak a few words. (All scruples about women speaking in churches vanished like a slight cloud before the midday sun in the presence of such a solemn day for the people, when all the faith and courage and patience of women were as much wanted as those of men.) There was great life in that morning service, at the end of which most of us had the Sacrament together, in almost absolute silence. I should rather have liked that we had all received it standing, with a drawn sword in one hand, as the old crusaders did! The spirit of war however was there, as well as the Master’s benediction: “My peace I give unto you.” On the way home we elected to take a drive all round the city, Mme. de Gingins and I in her carriage, which waited for us. The streets were already (at 10 a.m.) very crowded, but the people were quiet, it being so early. I looked with sympathy at the faces of numbers of poor and honest-looking workmen, who seemed to be anxious.
Oh, I never saw anything like the beauty of the Rhone that day, rolling its magnificent waves and curling, dancing waters along (the waters about which Ruskin has half a chapter of eloquent description). The main colour is a clear sapphire blue, shading off into sky blues, purples and pale rose colours, and flecked with streaks of golden sunlight. Geneva is a beautiful city, and the birds were singing, and the young leaves appearing on the avenues of trees.
At 5 p.m. we went, by the invitation of M. Favre, to his house, where he had invited all the leading abolitionists to assemble to hear the result of the poll, and, if necessary, to stay all night—sixty or seventy of us!—because it was well known if we had had a victory the vengeance of the tenanciers’ mob would have made it perilous for any of us to pass through the streets.
I shall never forget that memorable evening and night. M. Favre is the most prominent man of Geneva, belonging to the old nobility. His house is just a little removed from the town, on a little rising ground whence you see all Geneva lying like a map before you. It is one of the fortresses of the old nobles, before the Reformation, and it was there that some hundreds of Huguenot refugees from France were harboured by an ancestor of M. Favre in the times of Louis XIV. There is a huge stone archway by which you enter a great courtyard, whence stairs ascend in the open air to different parts of the fortress. It is all of solid rock and stone; no mob would have a chance to enter, and here the refugees of March 22nd, 1896, were received. When we first went about fourteen of us had dinner, and food was kept going in the dining-room till midnight for all the abolitionist presidents at the different urns who kept dropping in till 10 p.m. Those, who came from the country arrondissements, of course got in rather late, some of them having narrowly escaped rough handling. M. Bridel came last, and they telephoned for news of him, but no answer came. His wife was very pale and anxious, but at last he appeared. The voting in his quarter had continued late. Last of all, M. de Meuron came from La Fusterie, where all the votes had been collected and counted, and where the final result was given out. It was a great shock and grief to all, and hard to bear. About forty or fifty men (who had been at the urns all day) were assembled in that room, with their dusty boots (having had no time to change) and their tired faces, and stood for nearly an hour in groups in that large room of the Huguenot fortress discussing all the circumstances. As I looked at their good faces and heard their words, I felt more encouraged than I have ever yet been in Geneva. These were the men who make corps d’élite, who lead forlorn hopes, and who by this very defeat and disaster are welded into a more complete and convinced body of combatants than could ever have been formed by a victory, and I felt the strong brotherhood which had grown up among them in a short time. There were Democrats and Conservatives, Protestants, Catholics and Freethinkers, but all “straight men,” honest, and in great earnest. When they had conversed some time, afterwards they proposed that we should resolve ourselves into a committee, which we did, forming a circle. That consultation was wonderfully practical, and to the point. Slowly, but surely, a spirit of resoluteness, and even encouragement, took the place of the first feeling of dismay. It was a memorable assembly; I shall never forget it.
Then we began to feel and to hear from our fortress the beginning of the demoniacal orgies of that night. M. Favre made M. and Mme. de Meuron stay all night, and a few others, as the threats of the mob were rather alarming. We all stayed till nearly midnight. We had among our faithful following a number of humble men and women, who came in now and again to report on what was passing, and next day the worst they had told us was more than confirmed. When the result of the poll was known, the leading tenanciers, with their banners and following, forced their way into the large Church of the Fusterie, at the entrance of which the final result of the voting had been made known, and then began scenes and processions which had been organised beforehand. It is a pain to write of it; but it is well that the worst should be known, well that the Genevese should have had the awful revelation of the vileness of what they have been harbouring in their midst. You may know perhaps, that every house of debauchery under Government sanction and protection is obliged to hang up a red lamp over the door, as a guide to visitors. So that now, and especially since Sunday night, that powerful institution which now rules Geneva is designated as the “Lampe rouge.” They had organised processions in case of a victory, with designs and red lamps. They marched through the whole city, a mass of devilry and obscenity which, I suppose, could hardly be seen anywhere else, except perhaps in Paris. Soldiers had been posted all about the Fusterie, but nevertheless the “red lamps” rushed into the church and marched round it inside, locking the gendarmerie out. The latter could not even succeed in forcing their way round the outside of the church, so dense was the crowd. Inside it seems the “red lamps” held a sort of service to the devil—tramping, swearing, and singing songs of the utmost blasphemy and obscenity. Having “consecrated” their red lamps in the large church, they went on to all the other churches, and filled the air in front of each with their blasphemies. Then branches of the procession went running to the different places which they hated most, and where they hoped to find some abolitionists—first to the Young Men’s Christian Association, but they had an avant-courrier in the person of one of our scouts, who ran faster and told that the “red lamps” were coming, so that all the men assembled in that building had just time to get out and disperse, and only windows were left to be battered in. They went to our Federation office, but it was locked up and all dark—M. Minod being with us in the Huguenot fortress. Then a number of them made a furious rush to the Eaux Vives, to break into M. de Meuron’s house, but it was also locked up and not a soul in it. They demonstrated furiously in front of it. So through the long hours devilry reigned in this city, which on that early Sunday morning had looked so fair. It was an open and impudent saturnalia, flaring its open shame before the eyes of all, “La Lampe rouge” carried everywhere, like a divinity, and the decent part of the population cowering before it, or getting out of sight.
In one matter the kind prayers of our friends were answered. Just about midnight, when we in the fortress wanted to get home, and anxieties were felt as to our getting back without being attacked, a tremendous rain fell for about an hour, though till then the sky had been clear. It seemed sent by God. It damped the unholy ardour of the followers of the “Lampe rouge,” and drove many of them into their retreats, so that at that hour we were able to get home without being recognised, as there was darkness as well as heavy rain. I do not think there was much bodily injury. At one moment, in front of the Fusterie, one of our presidents at the urns was knocked down in the crowd, and seemed likely to be trampled, and a student of the university drew his sword (one of those swords concealed in a walking stick) to defend our friend. A great commotion followed, and the student was arrested. There was a great deal of violence, but no serious hurt. The “red lamps” finally assembled before the office of the Genevois, and the editor was called to harangue them. I think he felt a little ashamed of the devilry he had helped to call up, and begged them to keep quiet and go to bed, assuring them that “pietism,” i.e. Christianity, was killed for ever in Geneva from that night. Oh! shade of Calvin!
Now to explain in a degree the great majority against us. I sent you some of the voting papers. Is it any wonder that such a paper should puzzle the ordinary elector? You know how stupid electors often are. I doubt if our own people in England would all have voted right if the question had been put to them in that complicated form. If the question had been, “Do you desire the abolition or the maintenance of the maisons tolérées?” every man, woman, and boy would have understood, because the maisons tolérées are as much in evidence and known as the cathedral or the market-place. But the question put before the electors was “(1) Do you approve of the projet de loi de l’initiative? Yes or no. (2) Do you approve of the projet de loi of the Government? Yes or no.” You can see what a throwing of dust in their eyes this was. Working men were asking, What does it mean?—honestly asking; and you know that during the past five weeks our party were not allowed to hold meetings to instruct the people. Every meeting was broken up by the “Lampes rouges,” and finally every hall and room was closed against us by a police order. Attempting to speak in the streets or roads, our friends were stoned and assaulted, and silenced by noise. Freedom of public meeting and freedom of speech no longer exist in Geneva. You will see that stated in the Press which is favourable to us again and again. If we had had those liberties it is believed that we might have had a majority of votes. Working women told us that their husbands were good men, but meant to abstain from voting altogether, because they did not clearly understand the questions. Many hundreds abstained altogether. Then, thirdly, the Genevois had worked so hard, and others too (of the Government), to tell the people that we had deeply injured La Patrie, and troubled Geneva, and spoiled the prospects of the Exhibition—that foreigners had done this, i.e. Vaudois, Bernese, Germans, etc., and that all the agitators were paid by an English lady, who had been sent from London with hundreds of pounds in her pocket. The poor people were misled by this kind of stuff. When one considers all these traps and deceptions put before them, to say nothing of the drink, one almost wonders that there were found 4000 who voted for abolition.