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.
To various friends.
_April 7th, 1896._
We have been gaining true adherents every day since the 22nd, persons
who have been moved by the force of circumstances and by their own
conscience openly to join the Abolitionists. Among these are several
professors of the university. I think I did not explain in my last
that one cause of our having such a minority of votes is as follows:
Party politics _rule_ at Geneva. The appearance of a new party in the
State, a party of Justice and Morality, displeased the Conservative,
the Democratic, and the Radical parties alike. The Democratic
especially, as they are the majority, and most of our abolitionist
friends are Democrats. The “National party,” which is _above_ mere
petty party politics, was of course a stone of discord thrown among
them, which disgusted them much; and several voted against us on the
22nd out of sheer anger and revenge. Yet the truth is working, and
some are even now repenting of their vote, while several abstained at
the last moment.
On Monday morning, after Sunday night’s horrible scenes, I walked
along in the sweet sunshine to our office to see how things looked,
and there I found a group already of distinguished men gathered round
M. Minod’s large table, who had just come in one by one to relieve
their hearts and consult together. We can recollect when we in England
had the same experience in the midst of general or party politics.
We were not agreeable to either side in Parliament. Troublesome
“faddists” they called us, and an occasion of trouble and division
among the different political parties. In two great elections at
least we troubled the Government considerably by the confusion we
brought into the Liberal camp. In fact we were _obliged_ to make
ourselves disagreeable in order to be listened to at all, and at last
we prevailed. I told a good deal of this to our Geneva friends, who
are much reproached for sounding a note in the political circles which
is neither of one side nor the other, but altogether a new note. I
recalled Christ’s words, “I am not come to bring peace on earth, but a
sword.”
Another encouragement is the coming out of so many doctors. A few
weeks ago we did but know of _one_ who was favourable; but only four
days before the election thirty-three doctors made up their minds, and
even had their names printed as adherents to our principles, on large
pink and blue placards, which were stuck all over the walls of Geneva.
Then we were much encouraged by the bearing of the students of the
university, and other young men. Those students had several meetings
of their own, called with a serious purpose, and not prompted from the
outside. One of them reported to me a final meeting they had among
themselves for voting. _Eighty-five per cent._ of the students present
declared themselves strongly in favour of Abolitionist principles. One
young man was courageous enough to get up and protest that an early
introduction to vice was a sign of manliness, adding that many of the
virtuous students were weak fellows, etc.! The eighty-five _went_ for
him like a pack of young hounds after some noisome wild animal, with
howling and fury. The misguided young man judged it best to get out
of the room, which he did very rapidly indeed. Of course there is a
certain youthfulness about these manifestations, but it rejoiced our
hearts to see so many of the young population inspired with just and
generous principles. The youths of the “Etoile” too, who are of a
humbler class in society, were intelligently and ardently on our side.
These poor fellows, with some of the university, formed themselves
into a kind of body-guard to follow and quietly surround M. de Meuron,
Bridel and others when they tried to hold meetings, and to stand
between them and the showers of stones and dirt thrown at them. It was
kind of them, poor boys! God will not forget it.
One of the things which made the most impression on me of all in
Geneva was M. Favre’s prayer at a great gathering of the most earnest,
recently-awakened people. Was it a prayer? Yes—partly, and yet at
times it was like a confession made to _us_, to Switzerland, to the
world. He spoke as a prophet, in broken sentences, and out of a heart
bowed down under a sense of guilt and deep responsibility, with a
great need pressing on him to “cry aloud” as Jeremiah used to do.
And he did not beat about the bush as people too often do in their
prayers and confessions. He said quite simply, in a voice shaken with
emotion,“Oh, how heartless and cruel we have been, we Christians, all
these years since 1875, when God sent His gentle messenger to us, of
whom we heard with coldness and disapproval. How cruel we have been!
O God! we have left this little handful of despised Abolitionists
these twenty years, unhelped and unheeded; left them without a
word of sympathy and without friends, a little band, as we thought,
influenced by some fanciful motive. All these years we have passed
them by. Forgive us, O servants of God, forgive us! We have spoken
of the higher life and of consecration, and we have believed that we
were serving God by dwelling on the heights, separated from the mass
of sin and sinners below us; and now we see our error, and we mourn.
Now we see who Thy faithful ones are, O God—these humble and just ones
who have sown in tears these long years, and whom Thou wilt recognise
when they shall be called home bearing their sheaves with them, while
_we_—O brothers, let us fall down in the dust before Him.” And so
he ended, as Daniel in his great prayer of intercession, “O God, we
have sinned and our fathers have sinned. O God, forgive; O God, hear;
O God, hearken and do.” I have not got the words exactly (it was in
French), but this is the sense; and I listened almost in awe, as
others did. It was the cry of distress, of a heart pent up with the
bitterness of repentance; a noble utterance as of a true soul bowed in
sackcloth and ashes. Therefore I am _glad, glad, glad_ that all this
has happened, for how can repentance and new life ever come to the
careless, and to the most reckless sinners, unless it first comes to
the “household of God?”
I must not omit to tell you of my visit to M. Favon. On the Saturday
evening, the day before the voting, Madame Ruchonnet came from Cully
to go with me to see him. He is, you recollect, our great opponent,
editor of the _Genevois_. He received us with much courtesy, and even
gentleness, as if grateful for our visit. We had a long conversation,
for about an hour. One thing in our conversation opened my eyes a
little more on the situation. He said: “But, dear lady, what an
_awful_ thing, what a tyranny beyond all other tyrannies it would be,
should your party triumph, to have a renewal of the ancient sumptuary
discipline, of the prying into the secrets of every household and
of family life! It would be the most wicked of tyrannies.” I was
astonished, and with difficulty persuaded him that such a thought
was as detestable to us as to him; that we had historical evidence
(in the Pilgrim Fathers) of the folly and futility, as well as
shame, of attempting to reach private immorality by the law, which
means necessarily by police and the most hateful espionage. I was
thankful in my heart that since the beginning of our crusade I had
been convinced in my conscience and understanding of the folly, and
even wickedness, of all systems of _outward repression_ of private
immorality, for which men and women are accountable to God and their
own souls; but not to the _State_.