Josephine E. Butler

In the Legislative Section we had an energetic discussion over the seduction laws of different countries, and the recherche de la paternité, subjects not immediately in our programme, but closely touching it. The discussion became so hot, that it seemed difficult for some of the members to remain calm at all. Signora Mozzoni, a delegate from Milan, burst into tears over it, and one or two of our good gentlemen lost their tempers a little. One cannot wonder, for this is one of the important questions upon which people of different nations and creeds hold very different views. Miss Isabella Tod and Mrs. Sheldon Amos took a line on the point of the age to which protection should be given, in which I could not quite follow them, and I felt obliged for once to oppose my own countrywomen. Professor Hornung was pleased with what I said, as it seems it accorded with the views of most continental jurists.

The young advocate who had opposed us called yesterday to say that he had come round to our views, chiefly influenced by that desperate little impromptu legal discussion among the ladies. He had imagined, he said, that we were a number of “fanatical and sentimental women,” but “when he heard women arguing like jurists, and even taking part against each other, and yet with perfect good temper, like men (!), he began to see that we were grave, educated, and even scientific people!” He came afterwards to every meeting, and, as he said, weighed all our words.

I think I have not mentioned the resolutions at the Section of Bienfaisance, under good Pastor Borel’s presidency. Those also were very satisfactory.

Josephine Butler published in 1878 a biography of Catharine of Siena. A French translation of this was published nine years later at Neuchâtel. Mr. Gladstone wrote to George Butler, expressing his intense interest in the book, and adding: “It is evident that Mrs. Butler is on the level of her subject, and it is a very high level. To say this is virtually saying all. Her reply (by anticipation) to those who scoff down the visions is, I think, admirable.” We give but one quotation.

Here I must pause to speak of that great secret of Catharine’s spiritual life, the constant converse of her soul with God. Her book, entitled The Dialogue, represents a conversation between a soul and God, mysterious and perhaps meaningless to many, but to those who can understand full of revelation of the source of her power over human hearts. All through her autobiography (for such her Dialogue and Letters may be called) no expressions occur more frequently than such as these: “The Lord said to me,” &c.; “My God told me to act so and so”; “While I was praying, my Saviour showed me the meaning of this, and spoke thus to me.” I shall not attempt to explain, nor shall I alter this simple form of speech. It is not for us to limit the possibilities of the communications and revelations, which the Eternal may be pleased to make to a soul, which continually waits upon Him. If you are disposed, reader, to doubt the fact of these communications from God, or to think that Catharine only fancied such and such things, and attributed these fancies to a divine source, then I would give you one word of advice, and one only: go you and make the attempt to live a life of prayer, such as she lived, and then, and not till then, will you be in a position which will give you any shadow of a right, or any power, to judge of this soul’s dealings with God.

CHAPTER XI.

GOVERNMENT BY POLICE

In 1879 her writings included two pamphlets, Government by Police and Social Purity, the latter being an address delivered at Cambridge. This year the Federation held its Conference at Liége. A bright and vivid account of the meetings at Liége, from the skilful pen of Madame de Morsier, is given in the Reminiscences of a Great Crusade, which shows that these annual gatherings of crusaders from various countries were not wholly devoted to serious discussions of a painful subject, but became occasions for true human fellowship (even touched with gaiety) between persons of divers tastes and experiences. The account concludes thus: “And now, little town of Belgium, sitting on the banks of the Meuse, surrounded with green hills, let me take one parting look at you! We have only known you a few days, and now you live in our memories a luminous point in the past. Many of us arrived within your walls strangers to each other, and have parted friends; some arrived sorrowful, discouraged, asking what would be the end of all this? They return peaceful, and fortified with the conviction that work is happiness, and conflict a duty. Manet alta mente repostum.”

The agitation in Paris against the Police des mœurs, referred to in the last chapter, had been continued, and led this year to the resignation of M. Lecour, who was appointed chief “bell-ringer” of Notre Dame; and this was followed by further enquiries and newspaper revelations, and the subsequent resignation of the Prefect of Police and other members of his staff, and later of the Minister of the Interior. In these events M. Yves Guyot and other members of the French branch of the Federation took a prominent part. Early in 1880 Mr. Alfred Dyer and Mr. George Gillett visited Brussels to investigate cases of English girls, many of whom were minors, alleged to be detained in the licensed houses of that city against their will, and with the connivance of the police. Some of these girls were rescued, and being brought to England, were placed under the care of Josephine Butler.

Another of the poor refugees helped by Pastor Anet to escape from Brussels came to our house in Liverpool. She appeared to be in pain, and on being questioned she replied that she was suffering from unhealed stripes on her back and shoulders from the lash of this tyrant.

I drew from her, when alone, the story of her martyrdom. The keeper of this house in Brussels, enraged with her because of her persistent refusal to participate in some exceptionally base proceedings among his clients, had her carried to an underground chamber, whence her cries could not be heard. She was here immured and starved, and several times scourged with a thong of leather. But she did not yield. This poor delicate girl had been neglected from childhood. She was a Catholic, but had had little or no religious teaching. She told me, with much simplicity, that in the midst of these tortures she was “all the time strengthened and comforted by the thought that Jesus had Himself been cruelly scourged, and that He could feel for her.”

Before her capture she had one day seen in a shop window in Brussels an engraving of Christ before Pilate, bound and scourged. Some persons, no doubt, may experience a little shock of horror at the idea of any connection in the thoughts of this poor child between the supreme agony of the Son of God and her own torments in the cellar of that house of debauchery. We often sincerely mourn over these victims as “lost” because we cannot reach them with any word of love or the “glad evangel.” But He “descended into hell,” into the abode of the “spirits in prison,” to speak to them; and I believe, and have had many testimonies to the fact, that He visits spiritually these young souls in their earthly prison many a time, He alone, in all His majesty of pity, without any intervention of ours.

Josephine Butler published in May a statement making definite charges of gross ill-treatment of young girls in Brussels, and these charges were substantiated in a deposition on oath, made in response to a formal application from the Belgian authorities, under the Extradition Act. Some months later she sent a copy of her deposition to the editor of Le National in Brussels, intending it merely to be used in connection with evidence, which he had to give before a Commission then sitting on the subject. He however published it in Le National, and it created a great sensation throughout Belgium.

To her sister.

You can imagine that on first hearing of this I felt a little troubled, and as if I had been “given away.” Also persons friendly to us, such as Lambillon, Hendrick and others, who had given us information from a good motive, were angry at seeing their names published as having had any knowledge whatever of these evil things; and I was pained to think of their pain.

I was pondering all this one evening, when I suddenly recollected that on New Year’s Day of this year, and for many days after, I had taken upon me to make a special and definite request to God for light to fall upon these “dark places of the earth, wherein are the inhabitants of cruelty.” Some strong influence seemed to urge me to make this request. I used to kneel and pray, “O God, I beseech Thee, send light upon these evil deeds! Whatever it may cost us and others, flash light into these abodes of darkness. O send us light, for without it there can be no destruction of the evil. We cannot make war against a hidden foe. In the darkness these poor sisters of ours, these creatures of Thine, are daily murdered, and we do not know what to do or where to turn, and we find no way by which to begin to act. Send us light, O our God, even though it may be terrible to bear.” I had made a record of this petition, and then I had forgotten it. But not so our faithful God. His memory is better than mine! He did not forget, and He is now sending the answer to that prayer. Then I thought of the words, “O fools, and slow of heart to believe.” Here is the very thing I had asked for, brought about in a way I had not dreamed of.

One consequence of these revelations was the dismissal of M. Lenaers, the Chief of the Brussels Police des mœurs, followed by the resignation of his principal subordinate. Another consequence was the formation of a strong committee in London for the suppression of the white slave traffic. The proposals of this committee in regard to legislation were ultimately adopted in that portion of the Criminal Law Amendment Act, 1885, which deals with offences connected with other countries. The matter was still further advanced many years later, largely owing to the efforts of Mr. W. A. Coote, by the Governments of Europe signing the International Convention for the suppression of the white slave traffic, 1904. This Convention has no doubt done something towards the suppression of this traffic, but as Josephine Butler frequently pointed out, and as was emphasised in the discussions at the Conference of the Federation in 1908, there is a grave risk, that in those countries, in which the authorities still license immoral houses, the police will not honestly and thoroughly endeavour to prevent the traffic upon which the profits of those houses so largely depend.

CHAPTER XII.

REPEAL

In the spring of 1882 George Butler resigned the Principalship of Liverpool College, and three months later Mr. Gladstone appointed him to a Canonry at Winchester. This year Josephine Butler published The Life of Jean Frederic Oberlin, the gentle and beloved Pastor of the Ban de la Roche (1740-1826), who not only ministered to his people in things spiritual, but also in things material, teaching them to make roads and to grow potatoes. Like John Grey, he changed the whole aspect of the country side, and in his old age his great services were recognised by the award to him of the gold medal of the Royal Agricultural Society of France, and by the King bestowing on him the dignity of Chevalier of the Legion of Honour. The following passage illustrates the great principle of his life —ora et labora.

In our own busy and exciting times, when competition (even in good works) is apt to distract and disturb the heart and the brain of the followers of Christ, to the detriment of calmness and depth, we all require to be reminded of the one and only source of true life and power. Our young, hard-worked ministers, and many other Christian workers, both old and young, engaged in the multitudinous active duties which they are required in these days to fulfil to the last tittle, and in favour of which they too often postpone even the work of waiting upon God, know by bitter experience the deadening effect on the soul of the enforced whirl of active engagements – benevolent, pious, and laudable as these may be. But by whom are these chains enforced, to the disadvantage of the spiritual life? By the tyrant society – even a Christian society, which can in its turn become tyrannical. It would be better to rebel somewhat against this tyranny, to resist the pressure of over-work, and to determine to be often alone with God, even if our hours with Him appeared to rob earth of a small particle of our poor services.

Bernard of Clairvaux, when engaged in a correspondence with persons and orders throughout the whole of Europe, battling single-handed with an amount of work which might overwhelm any modern Secretary of State, found that on the days when he spent the most time in prayer, and in listening to the voice of God and the teachings of the Spirit, his letters were the most rapidly written and persuasive, and his active work the most promptly and successively accomplished. His many schemes, evolved from his own ingenious brain, widened into or were lost in the far greater plan and purpose of God; anxiety was allayed; power – the power of the Holy Spirit, to which he had opened his heart – flowed forth, and was felt in every word he wrote or spoke, and in his very presence and looks.

Oberlin reserved stated hours for private prayer during the day, at which times none, as a rule, were permitted to interrupt him. These hours came to be known to all his parishioners, and it was usual for carters or labourers, returning from the fields with talk and laughter, to uncover their heads as they passed beneath the walls of his house. If the children ran by too noisily these working people would check them with uplifted finger, and say, “Hush! He is praying for us.” At times his soul was moved to an agony of intercession for his people; he travailed in birth for them. Sometimes he was in darkness on their account. His natural kindness to all becoming, under the influence of the Holy Spirit, a constant and yearning desire for their salvation, he would spend hours on his knees pouring out his soul in prayer for them with “strong crying and tears.” He felt the awful nature of the responsibility of one who is called to be an overseer of the flock of God, and who must give an account of the souls committed to him. “Oh, my people, my people, my children, my friends!” he would cry in his prayers – apostrophising them, and pleading with them as well as for them, though he was alone with God.

In 1883 Josephine Butler published the remarkable story of The Salvation Army in Switzerland, telling how the workers of the Army in Geneva had attracted some of the poor slaves of the State-protected houses, who “escaped or succeeded in obtaining release, and once more in the light of day, they listened to the glad tidings of salvation;” and how the keepers of these houses, “like the sellers of the shrines of Diana, fearing that the hope of their gains was threatened,” secured bands of roughs, who disturbed the Army’s meetings, until at last the authorities, being unable or unwilling to keep order, expelled Miss Catherine Booth and Miss Charlesworth from Geneva as disturbers of the peace! Later Miss Booth was imprisoned at Neuchâtel, but was released after a trial at which the illegality of her treatment was exposed. She was however shortly after expelled from the Canton; but despite persecution the Army has since prospered in Switzerland.

The next two letters refer to Mr. C. H. Hopwood’s resolution condemning the compulsory examination of women under the Contagious Diseases Acts, which could not be moved, being crowded out by the debate on the Address.

To her son Stanley.February 27th, 1883.

We have had some hard work lately. Father and I went to Cambridge for a quiet Sunday. It was bright and pleasant there, and the Fellows’ garden was beginning to put on its spring clothing. Then we came up to London to prepare for the coming on of our question in the House. A Member of Parliament, whom we met at Cambridge, told us that the amount of pressure brought to bear at this moment by the country was, he thought, “unprecedented in the history of any agitation.” Our friends are active in every nook and corner of the country: even from remote villages petitions come pouring in. Also many single petitions, such as from Cardinal Manning and the Moderator of the Free Church of Scotland. Mr. Hopwood told us that several M.P.’s came to him yesterday, and said they must vote with us, though before they had been hostile. “It is a strange thing,” said one, “that people care so much about this question. All my leading constituents have urged me to vote with you.” One of our strongest opponents, a military man, said to him, “Well, you have had extraordinary support from the country; it is evident that yours is the winning side.”

I was in the Lobby a few days ago, and saw a petition lying in someone’s hand, on the back of which was written: “Petition from 1553 inhabitants of West Ham.” You know that these are poor working fathers and mothers, some of whom have lately had their children stolen. They have had less than a week to collect these names. These silent figures are eloquent. There is a distinct change of tone in the House, and your father and I believe that it dates from the time that we came forward publicly to confess God as our leader. Our cause was openly baptised, so to speak, in the name of Christ, and our advance has been steady ever since. Also I thought I saw what I never observed before in the sceptical and worldly atmosphere of Parliament, i. e. signs of a consciousness of a spiritual strife going on. Some members spoke to us of the spiritual power in our movement, while on the other hand there is a seething and boiling of unworthy passions, such as would appal one if one did not remember that it was when the great Incarnation of purity drew near to the “possessed” man of old that the “unclean spirits” cried out.

To return to my story. Some of our friends in Parliament telegraphed to us at Cambridge that no debate would come on, on account of the arrears of talk on the Address. This is disappointing. Mr. W. E. Forster’s management of Irish affairs necessitates much discussion.

We have arranged for a great meeting for prayer. We shall hold it close to the House of Commons during the whole debate, if there is one, and all night if the debate lasts all night. We have invited about twenty of our best friends in the House to join us. This meeting has been advertised in The Times, The Standard and Daily News. Some of our parliamentary friends counselled this course, saying that it was well that all the world should know with what weapons and in whose name we make war, even if they scoff at the idea, as of course many do.

To her son.February 28th, 1883.

We went to the House at four o’clock yesterday. Justin McCarthy was speaking. There was still to the last a chance of Mr. Hopwood’s resolution coming on, but perhaps not till midnight. I did not remain in the Ladies’ Gallery, but came and went from the prayer-meeting to the Lobby of the House. We saw John Morley take the oath and his seat. The first thing he did after taking the oath was to sit down by Mr. Hopwood and say, “Now tell me what I can do to help you to-night, for the thing our Newcastle electors were most persistent about was that I should oppose this legislation.” I then went to the Westminster Palace Hotel, where we had taken a large room for our devotional meeting. There were well-dressed ladies, some even of high rank, kneeling together (almost side by side) with the poorest, and some of the outcast women of the purlieus of Westminster. Many were weeping, but when I first went in they were singing, and I never heard a sweeter sound. There were some cultivated voices amongst them, and the hymns were well chosen. I felt ready to cry, but I did not; for I long ago rejected the old ideal of the “division of labour,” that “men must work and women must weep.” A venerable lady from America rose and said, “Tears are good, prayers are better, but we should get on better if behind every tear there was a vote at the ballot box.” Every soul in that room responded to that sentiment. I never saw a meeting more moved. The occasion and the circumstances were certainly pathetic. As we continued to pray we all felt, I think, a great pity come into our hearts for those men who were at that moment in the House so near to us, who wield so great a responsibility, and so many of whom will have a sad account to give of their use of it.

Charles Parker told me next day that at that time several M.P.’s were walking about the Lobby, and that two young men, not long in Parliament, said to him, “Have you heard, Parker, that the ladies were to hold a prayer meeting to-night to pray for us? But I suppose it is given up, as this debate is to be postponed.” Mr. Parker, better informed, said, “On the contrary, that is just what they are doing now, praying for us. It throws a great responsibility on us.” The young men, he said, looked very grave. Father had to return home, I went back to the House, while other women remained and continued their intercessions. All Westminster was wrapped in a haze, out of which glared only the great light on the clock tower. I walked through the mist, feeling rather sad, and wondering how much longer this horrible yoke would remain fastened on the neck of a people who wish to get rid of it, and how long women will be refused a voice in the representation of the country. I climbed up the wearisome gallery stairs, and from the grating saw a crowd of our gentlemen friends from the country sitting in the Strangers’ Gallery opposite. How patiently they sat through those long hours. Some of them had come even from Scotland for the purpose. Father had gone home, but just above the clock I saw George, and tried to catch his eye, but he, believing that I was at the other meeting, did not look towards our gallery or see me. I sat on till midnight for the chance of our resolution coming on. By and by Mr. Hopwood asked the Speaker’s leave to make a statement. He then made a very good speech, explaining, rather to the country than to the House, how it was he was prevented from bringing on his resolution, and saying that Parliament and the Government should have no peace on the question, for the country was aroused, and nothing could lessen their present determination. He called them to witness to the needless waste of time there had been in talking and recriminations before midnight. Mr. Trevelyan told me he thought our opponents had purposely prolonged the debate on the Address.

I must tell you that just in the second hour of our prayers your telegram was handed to me. I thought it was some business, and was pleasantly surprised when I saw it was from St. Andrews, so far off, and yet it brought you so near, and just at a moment when it was peculiarly precious to me.

After another half hour at the meeting, I returned once more to the Lobby of the House, and found some of our friends waiting about. They took me out on the terrace along the river front. The fog had cleared away, and it was very calm under the starlit sky. All the bustle of the city was stilled, and the only sound was that of the dark water lapping against the buttresses of the broad stone terrace, the water into which so many despairing women have flung themselves.

I forgot to tell you that before the debate began I ventured into the circular hall or lobby next to the House itself, having caught sight of the venerable face of old Mr. Whitwell. He remembered me, and shook hands. I stood near him in a corner, as if he had taken me under his protection. The first word he said to me was, “Has it ever struck you that there is no one thing in the whole of Christ’s discourses to which He has given such emphasis as that of the certainty of prayer being answered? Now you may be sure our persevering prayers will be answered in this matter.” I saw several other friends, among them your member, Mr. Williamson, who said, “Tell your son that I have presented his petition from St. Andrews, and that I support the prayer of it with all my heart.” I am glad to tell you Albert Grey and Robert Reid, father’s old pupil at Cheltenham, are with us on the question. I met Cardinal Manning in the Lobby, and had a pleasant talk with him. He is much in earnest about all good movements. He has been ill, and looked even thinner than a spider! He said he would do all he could for us, through his influence, on the Irish Catholic vote.