The Project Gutenberg eBook of Josephine E. Butler, by George W and Lucy A. Johnson. (2024)

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Josephine E. Butler, by Josephine E. ButlerThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and mostother parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictionswhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms ofthe Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll haveto check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.Title: Josephine E. Butler An Autobiographical MemoirAuthor: Josephine E. ButlerEditor: George W. Johnson Lucy A. JohnsonRelease Date: November 16, 2016 [EBook #53534]Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: UTF-8*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOSEPHINE E. BUTLER ***Produced by MWS, Les Galloway and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive/American Libraries.)

JOSEPHINE E. BUTLER

All rights reserved

EDITED BY
GEORGE W. AND LUCY A. JOHNSON

With Introduction by
JAMES STUART, M.A., LL.D.

SECOND IMPRESSION

BRISTOL
J. W. Arrowsmith, 11 Quay Street
LONDON
Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Company Limited
1909

v

PREFACE.

It is very difficult worthily to record thehistory of one of the noblest women who everlived, but, having been asked by the Ladies’National Association for the Abolition ofGovernment Regulation of Vice to prepare aMemoir of Mrs. Josephine Butler, we have triedto tell her life story as far as possible in her ownwords, by means of extracts from her writings,with just sufficient thread of explanation tohold them together. The present volume istherefore to a large extent an autobiography,taken chiefly from her Recollections of GeorgeButler, and from Personal Reminiscences of aGreat Crusade; but selections have also beengiven from most of her principal publications,so as to give some idea of her extensive literarywork. We have not included any privateletters, as it was her strongly expressed wishthat these should not be published.

Many of the quotations have been abridged,but they have not otherwise been altered,except in a few cases where dates, etc., havebeen corrected. We have however ventured,vifor the sake of securing a continuous narrative,occasionally to combine passages taken fromdifferent sources.

As this volume is intended to give anaccount of Mrs. Butler’s own life and work, ithas not been possible fully to sketch thehistory of the movement, with which her namewas specially identified, or to allude to manyof those associated with her in that movement,whose labours she so heartily appreciated, andwhose friendship she so greatly valued.

We are much indebted to the editors ofJoséphine E. Butler: Souvenirs et Pensées(Saint-Blaise, Foyer Solidariste, 1908), havingin many cases used the same extracts asare given in that volume. We have alsoto thank Mrs. Butler’s representatives andvarious publishers (Horace Marshall & Son,Macmillan & Co., and others) for permissionto quote from copyright works.

G. W. J.
L. A. J.

May 1st, 1909.

vii

CONTENTS

PORTRAITS.

ix

INTRODUCTION.

Josephine Butler was one of the greatpeople of the world. In character, in workdone, in influence on others, she was amongthat few great people who have moulded thecourse of things. The world is differentbecause she lived. Like most of the verygreat people of the world, she was extremelycosmopolitan. She belongs to all nations andto all time. The work she did, the peopleshe influenced, prove this. Her Voice in theDesert has been translated into most languagesof Europe, and has spoken like the voice of acompatriot to the people of every land.She was a great leader of men and women,and a skilful and intrepid general of the battlesshe fought. As an orator she touched thehearts of her hearers as no one else has doneto whom I have listened. She aimed at aperfectly definite object, but round thatobject there gathered in her mind manyothers, all converging to the same end. Sheleft behind her wherever she went newthoughts and new aims and new ideals.

Around her central thought grew up manyothers, and a host of good works have beenleft in many countries as living memorials ofher influence. She thus not only led a greatxcrusade, but she helped to raise the charactersof the individuals engaged in it.

But while I write of her public work, itwould be but half the truth unless I said aword about her personally. She was at homein every class of society. She was verybeautiful, and of a very gracious presence,and the impression made by first seeing herand hearing her voice has, I expect, beenforgotten by none who ever met her. Shewas of a very artistic temperament. She wasa good painter, an extremely good musician.She was a bold rider, and active, thoughalways of a somewhat weak health. Herindustry and application was unbounded.She was very full of humour, and, whiledeeply in earnest, had the faculty of beingat times charmingly gay. She dressed withgreat taste and simplicity. She, above allthings, loved her home and her husband, andthat love was wholly returned.

I have said she was extremely cosmopolitan,and all who have known her know how truethat is. At the same time she was a greatlover of her own country, and particularlyof the borderland between England andScotland, where she was born, and where shenow lies buried in the churchyard ofKirknewton, where many of her ancestors lie.For she came of an old Border family; andbravery, and the alertness of battle, and thepower of self-sacrifice, and the indignationagainst wrong which characterised her, cameto her, perhaps, partly through her descent.

She was a great reader of the Bible, anda humble suppliant before the throne of God.xiBut, while her own beliefs were clear anddefinite, she had no narrowness in her views,and the very names of those who have beenher foremost supporters show how wide hersympathies were, and how acceptable shewas to people of all creeds, as well as of allpolitics and of all climes.

She had to endure much, especially in theearly stages of her crusade—the avertedglances of former friends, the brutal attacksof ignorant opponents—but the inspirationof a mighty purpose enabled her to rise aboveall that, and to preserve a serenity of mindand of manner through it all.

And now, what is the sum of it all? Itseems to me to be this, that we must all beglad that she lived. We are each of usindividually better, and the world as a wholeis better, because she lived; and the seedthat she has sown can never die.

JAMES STUART.

xii

1

Josephine E. Butler.

CHAPTER I.
DILSTON.

Josephine Elizabeth Grey was born at MilfieldHill, in the county of Northumberland, on April13th, 1828. She was the fourth daughter of JohnGrey, and of his wife Hannah Annett. In herMemoir of John Grey of Dilston, she writes thusof her birthplace and family.

It seems to me that any life of my father mustinclude, to some extent, a history of the countyin which he was born, lived and died. He loved theplace of his birth, sweet Glendale. His affectionswere largely drawn out to that Border country;not only to the living beings who peopled it, but tothe scenes themselves—the hills, the valleys, andthe rivers. All through his life there will be foundevidence of the heart-yearnings towards them; andthese are shared by his children, to whom thereseems no spot on earth like Glendale. This attachmentto our native country is perhaps strongeramong us than among some families, because for somany generations back we were rooted there.Greys abounded on the Borders; they were keepers2often of the Border castles and towers, living a lifenot always very peaceful in regard to their Scottishneighbours.

Glendale is rich in romantic associations: everyname in and around it brings to the mind someincident of war, or lover’s adventure, or heroic exploitrecorded in English ballads, or sung to sweet Scottishtunes, or woven later into the poems of Sir WalterScott. It is a very beautiful range of hills whichskirts Glendale to the west; their very names,Yeavring Bell, Heathpool Bell, Newton Torr,Hetha, Hedgehope, and Cheviot—were delightful tomy father’s ear. Directly in front of our old home,Milfield Hill, lies the scene of innumerable fightsbetween Scotch and English, Milfield Plain, andfrom its windows might have been seen the famousbattle of Humbledon Hill.

Flodden Hill, about a mile north of Milfield Hill,hides beneath its soil traces of the great battle of1513: broken pieces of armour of men and horseswere sometimes dug or ploughed up, and brought tothe house, to be treasured up as relics. Many atime did my father recite to his children everyincident of that battle, as he rode or walked with themover Flodden, sometimes resting at the “King’sChair,” or by “Sybil’s Well.” His memory was sogood that he could go through almost the whole ofMarmion, and other poems relating to that woefulday,

His dislike of the Stuarts was great, but he wouldtell, with a sorrowful sympathy, how the3 “flowers ofthe forest,” the noble youth of Scotland, “werea’ wede away.”

After the battle of Flodden the Border warfaredegenerated into a system of recriminative plunder,which continued till comparatively recent times.It is only a few generations back that our Northumbriansused to watch the fords all night long, withtheir trained mastiffs, to prevent the Scotch fromcarrying away their cattle. At one of the earlymeetings of the Highland Society at Kelso, my fathersaid: “There was a time, and that at no distantperiod, when, had it been possible for such animalsas we have seen to-day to exist, it would haverequired the escort of our honourable Vice-President,Sir John Hope, and his cavalry inbringing each lot to the show-ground, to secureit against the chance of being roasted amongthe heather of the Highlands or boiled in thepots of Cumberland.”

But the time came for this fair Border country towake up to new life. Probably no part of Englandhas undergone so rapid a change as Northumberlandhas done in the last eighty or ninety years. Thehalf-barbarous character which I have been describingclung to the people long after it had given place tocivilisation elsewhere. The soil and climate wererugged, and resisted for a long time the first effortsat cultivation; but its inhabitants, rugged too,were energetic, and the impulse once given, itrequired not many years to place Northumberlandat the head of agricultural progress.

The part which my father had in bringing aboutthis great change in Northumberland, and in the4progress of agriculture generally, was not inconsiderable.How great the change must have been,in a short time, those of us can imagine who havewitnessed the rich harvests of the last twenty years,and the merry harvest-homes on Tweedside andTillside. Not less striking, perhaps, was the changebrought about later on the banks of the Tyne. Whenhe migrated thither in 1833, Tyneside, which is nowso richly cultivated, presented in many parts milesof fox-cover and self-sown plantations of fir andbirchwood.

John Grey was born in August, 1785. He was theson of George Grey, of West Ord, on the banks of theTweed, and of his wife, Mary Burn. He himselfthus writes of his ancestry, in answer to a questionaddressed to him by a friend.

5

“He [an antiquarian] imagines that he brings theGreys down from Rollo, whose daughter Arlettawas mother of William the Conqueror; but I thinktheir Norman origin is doubtful. Undoubtedly,however, they were derived from a long line ofwarriors, who were Wardens of the East Marches,Governors of Norham, Morpeth, Wark, and BerwickCastles in the old Border days, and were also dignifiedby great achievements in foreign wars. Sir JohnGrey, of Heaton, 1356, was valorous in the army ofHenry V, and gained, or had conferred on him,castles in Normandy, and the title of Tankerville,which is now an offshoot of the old stock. Hisfigure is given as a knight of great strength andrenown, and he was distinguished by the capaciousforehead which is said to have marked the racethrough all ages; see the late Charles Earl Grey forits full development. [The writer was not lessremarkable for this feature than any who bore thename.] A son of Sir John Grey, Governor of MorpethCastle 1656, gave offence by a marriage with abuxom daughter of a farmer, at Angerton. In therecords it is shown that he had an annuity fromthe family estate at Learmonth. From this offshootcomes our degenerate tribe!”

My mother’s parents were good people, descendedfrom the poor but honest families of silk-weavers,driven out of France by the revocation of the Edictof Nantes. They were in the habit of opening theirhospitable doors to everyone in the form of areligious teacher, of whatever sect, who happened topass that way. One of my mother’s earliest memorieswas of being lifted upon the knee of the venerableJohn Wesley, a man with white silvery hair and abenevolent countenance, who placed his two handsupon the head of the golden-haired little girl andpronounced over her a tender and solemn benediction.

In 1833 John Grey was appointed to take charge ofthe Greenwich Hospital estates in his native county,and moved to a new house built for him at Dilston,in the vale of the Tyne.

Our home at Dilston was a very beautiful one. Itsromantic historical associations, the wild, informalbeauty all round its doors, the bright, large familycircle, and the kind and hospitable character of itsmaster and mistress, made it an attractive place tomany friends and guests. Among our pleasantestvisitors there were Swedes, Russians and French,who came to England on missions of agricultural6or other inquiry, and who sometimes spent weekswith us. It was a house the door of which stood wideopen, as if to welcome all comers, through the livelongsummer day (all the days seem like summerdays when looking back). It was a place where onecould glide out of a lower window and be hidden in amoment, plunging straight among wild wood pathsand beds of fern, or find oneself quickly in somecool concealment, beneath slender birch trees, or bythe dry bed of a mountain stream. It was a placewhere the sweet hushing sound of waterfalls, andclear streams murmuring over shallows, were heardall day and night, though winter storms turned thosesweet sounds into an angry roar.

I have thought that the secret of my father’s consistencylay in the fact that his opinions had theirroot very deep in his soul and affections, that theywere indigenous, so to speak, not grafted from without.God made him a Liberal, and a Liberal in thetrue sense he continued to be to the end of his life.In conversation with him on any public questions,one could not but observe how much such questionswere matters of feeling with him. I believe that hispolitical principles and public actions were alike thedirect fruit of that which held rule within his soul—Imean his large benevolence, his tender compassionateness,and his respect for the rights andliberties of the individual man. His life was asustained effort for the good of others, flowing fromthese affections. He had no grudge against rank orwealth, no restless desire of change for its own sake,still less any rude love of demolition; but he couldnot endure to see oppression or wrong of any kind7inflicted on man, woman, or child. “You cannottreat men and women exactly as you do one poundbank-notes, to be used or rejected as you thinkproper,” he said in a letter to The Times, when thatpaper was advocating some ill-considered changes,beneficial to one class, but leaving out of account aresidue of humble folk upon whom they would entailgreat suffering. In the cause of any maltreated orneglected creature he was uncompromising to thelast, and when brought into opposition with theperpetrators of any social injustice he became anenemy to be feared. Some who remembered him inearly manhood have described his commandingpresence when he stood forth on public occasions asthe champion of Liberal principles, “unsubdued bythe blandishments of his partisans, and unabashedby the rancour of his opponents.” There was seldomto be found a flaw in his argument or a fault in hisgrammar on those occasions, when “he carried confusionand dismay into the enemy’s camp.” Yet theforce which his hearers acknowledged lay in his loveof truth, his clearness of judgment, and the knowninnocency of his life, rather than in rhetoric. Thetrue key to an occasional bitterness against thosewhom he thought wrong-doers lay also in his greatsensitiveness to wrong done. There was no self-satisfactionin his denunciation of evil; the contemplationof cruelty in any form was intolerable tohim. He would speak of the imposition of socialdisabilities of any kind, by one class of persons onanother, with kindling eyes and breath which camequickly; but he always turned away with a sense ofrelief from the subject of the evil-doers, or the evil8done, to the persons who suffered, whose position hiscompassionate instinct would set him at once to thetask of ameliorating. His children remember the largeold family Bible, which he used punctually to bringforth every Sunday afternoon and peruse for hours,and his appeals to them to listen to the grandeur ofcertain favourite passages, which he often read aloud.The Book of the Prophet Isaiah was a great favourite,and his love for such words as the following, whichhe often quoted, was an index of the complexion ofhis mind: “Is not this the fast that I have chosen?to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavyburdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and thatye break every yoke?”

The Greys were a loving family, but of all thefamily Josephine’s life-long favourite was her sisterHarriet, afterwards Madame Meuricoffre. In hershe realised the perfect fulfilment of ChristinaRossetti’s lines—

There is no friend like a sister

In calm or stormy weather;

To cheer one on the tedious way,

To fetch one if one goes astray,

To lift one if one totters down,

To strengthen whilst one stands.

My sister Harriet and I were a pair, in our familyof six daughters and three sons. We were neverseparated, except perhaps for a few daysoccasionally, until her marriage and departure fromher own country for Naples. We were more, I mayventure to say, than many sisters are to each other;we were one in heart and soul, and one in all our pursuits.We walked, rode, played, and learned ourlessons together. When one was scolded, both9wept; when one was praised, both were pleased.In looking back to those early days, the characteristicswhich stand out the most in my memory areher love of free outdoor life, of nature, and ofanimals. It may be said that these are common tomost country-born children, but they were verystrongly marked in her.

Among the many good dogs who were personalfriends in our family was one, Pincher, whom sheloved much. She was sometimes missing whenlesson hours came round, and would be found inPincher’s kennel, quite concealed from view, holdingpleasant converse with her dear dog. A tragicevent occurred. Twelve of our father’s sheep werefound one early morning cruelly worried and bleedingto death in the field. Suspicion fell on Pincher,although there were other dogs of the agents andfarmers about, who were much more probably thecriminals; but their masters preferred to imputethe crime to our dog. Pincher was tried, condemned,and executed, he, poor dog, wagging his tail to thelast, and offering his paw, in sign, my sister saidthrough her tears, of forgiveness of his murderers.She was heart-broken, and cried herself to sleepmany nights after, her persuasion of the injusticeof the sentence making her sorrow very bitter.Trifling incidents often rest in the memory whenimportant things are forgotten. I recall, some timeafter this, that when we were in the schoolroom,drilled by a strict governess in close attention toour books, the silence was nevertheless broken bymy sister’s voice asking suddenly, and with apathetic earnestness, “Miss M——, had Pincher a10soul?” “Silence!” was the reply. “Attend toyour books! No silly questions!” But this samequestion has arisen many a time in the hearts ofboth of us, when we have witnessed the death ofthose dear companions, and seen the dumb andalmost awful appeal in their dying eyes, fixed uponthose whom they loved with a love which seemedout of all proportion to the limitations of their being.The desired solution of the child’s question, “HadPincher a soul?” was a momentous one for her;but the child’s heart was then, as often, littleunderstood.

Her interest in animal life was not restricted tothe nobler beasts. She made collections of creaturesas low in the scale as newts and frogs and otheraquatic and amphibious beings, declaring that theyalso were worthy of affection. We had our littlebeds side by side, and above them there was a shelfon which she arranged these creatures in rows of potsand jars filled with water. An accident occurredone night—the shelf gave way and emptied its burdenof pots and jars and water and creatures into ourbeds. The incident rather damped my ardour inthe pursuit of this branch of natural history, I believe,but not so with her. I recollect how tenderly shegathered up the newts, frogs, &c., and replaced themin fresh water, hoping they had got no harm. Wehad many pets—ferrets, wild cats from the woods,and owls. Some of the latter were magnificentpeople, with their large eyes and look of profoundwisdom worthy of the classic attendant of PallasAthene. Ponies also we had. On one of these, abeautiful snow-white pony called Apple Grey, many11of us had our first lessons in riding. My sister’sideal at one time of the vocation, which she wouldchoose above others, was that of a circus girl, and inthe hope of possibly realising some day that ideal, shebegan early to practise equestrian exercises. Puttingoff her shoes, she would leap on to the unsaddledback of Apple Grey, and standing up, guiding heronly by the bridle, would essay to trot and then tocanter round the fields. By perseverance, and aftermany falls, she had attained to some degree ofexcellence in these gymnastics, when her thoughtswere turned in other directions than that of thevocation of a circus girl.

She wrote some years later of the death of thisdear pony: “Poor old Apple was shot to-day by theside of her grave in the wood. They say she died ina moment. Papa could not give the order for execution,but the men took it on themselves, as she couldscarcely eat or rise without help. It was the kindestthing to do. Think of the gallops and tumbles ofour young days, and all her wisdom and all hercharms! Emmy and I have got a large stone slab,on which Surtees the mason has carved, ‘Inmemoriam, Apple,’ and I shall beg a young weepingash from Beaufront to plant on her grave.

now, and if she is gone to the happy hunting grounds,so much the better for her, dear old pet.”

We had our sorrows; clouds sometimes seemedto darken our horizon; and we would speak togetherin whispers of some family grief which was12not wholly understood by us, or of certain things inthe world which seemed to us even then to be notas they should be. We had a handsome brother,John, who used to entertain us in a gentle way withstories of the sea, which we loved to hear; and whoon one occasion returned home with his pocketsfilled with young tortoises for us. He died at sea.We were awed by the grief of our father and mother.We reminded each other of Mrs. Hemans’ Graves ofa Household—

Later our eldest sister married and went out toChina. Her letters from the Far East were readaloud in the family, and our curiosity and interestwere immensely stirred by her descriptions of thatcountry, of storms at sea, of the customs and ways ofthe people, of her visit to the house of a great Mandarin,&c. China seemed then much farther awaythan it seems now.

Living in the country, far from any town, and, ifI may say so, in the pre-educational era (for womenat least), we had none of the advantages which girlsof the present day have. But we owed much to ourdear mother, who was very firm in requiring from usthat whatever we did should be thoroughly done,and that in taking up any study we should aim atbecoming as perfect as we could in it withoutexternal aid. This was a moral discipline whichperhaps compensated in value for the lack of a greatstore of knowledge. She would assemble us dailyfor the reading aloud of some solid book, and by a13kind of examination following the reading assuredherself that we had mastered the subject. She urgedus to aim at excellence, if not perfection, in at leastone thing.

Our father’s connection with great publicmovements of the day—the first Reform Bill, theAbolition of the Slave Trade and Slavery, andthe Free Trade movement—gave us very early aninterest in public questions and in the history ofour country.

For two years my sister and I were together ata school in Newcastle. My sister did not love study,and confessed she “hated lessons.” The lady at thehead of the school regretted this. She was not a gooddisciplinarian, and gave us much liberty, which weappreciated, but she had a large heart and readysympathy. In spite of the imperfectly learnedlessons, she discerned in my sister some rare gifts—aspark of genius (a word which would have beenstrongly deprecated by my sister as applied toherself); and used furtively to gather up and preserve(we discovered afterwards) scraps of original writingsof my sister, and copy books full of quaint pen-and-inkdrawings. She also appropriated, and wouldprivately show to friends, a book, a History of theItalian Republics, on the margins of which throughoutmy sister had illustrated that history in a mostoriginal and humorous manner.

The following extract from one of JosephineButler’s last letters, written to friends in Switzerlandin 1905, tells how her “travail of soul” on behalfof oppressed womanhood began at an early agewhen she was only seventeen.

14

My father was a man with a deeply rooted, fieryhatred of all injustice. The love of justice was apassion with him. Probably I have inherited fromhim this passion. My dear mother felt with him,and seconded all his efforts. When my father spoketo us, his children, of the great wrong of slavery, Ihave felt his powerful frame tremble and his voicewould break. You can believe, that at that timesad and tragical recitals came to us from first sourcesof the hideous wrong inflicted on negro men andwomen. I say women, for I think their lot wasparticularly horrible, for they were almost invariablyforced to minister to the worst passions of theirmasters, or be persecuted and die. I recollect thestory of a negro woman who had four sons, the sonsof her master. The three eldest were sold by thefather in childhood for good prices, and the mothernever knew their fate. She had one left, theyoungest, her treasure. Her master, in a fit ofpassion, one day shot this boy dead. The mothercrawled under a ruined shed of wood, and with herface to the earth she prayed that she might die.But first she prayed, for she was a Christian, that shemight be able to forgive her cruel master. Thewords, “Love your enemies, bless them that curseyou,” sounded in her heart; and she cried to heaven,“Jesus, help me to forgive!” And so she died, herpoor heart broken. I remember how these thingscombined to break my young heart, and how keenlythey awakened my feelings concerning injustice towomen through this conspiracy of greed of gold andlust of the flesh, a conspiracy which has its counterpartin the white slave owning in Europe.

15

Something of her struggles at this period is shownin the following memories, recorded in 1900.

My early home was far from cities, with parentswho taught by their lives what true men and womenshould be. Few “priests or pastors” ever came ourway. Two miles from our home was the parishchurch, to which we trudged dutifully every Sunday,and where an honest man in the pulpit taught usloyally all that he probably himself knew about God,but whose words did not even touch the fringe of mysoul’s deep discontent.

It was my lot from my earliest years to be hauntedby the problems which more or less present themselvesto every thoughtful mind. Year after yearthis haunting became more tyrannous. The worldappeared to me to be out of joint. A strange intuitionwas given to me whereby I saw as in a vision,before I had seen any of them with my bodily eyes,some of the saddest miseries of earth, the injustices,the inequalities, the cruelties practised by man onman, by man on woman.

For one long year of darkness the trouble of heartand brain urged me to lay all this at the door of theGod, whose name I had learned was Love. I dreadedHim—I fled from Him—until grace was given me toarise and wrestle, as Jacob did, with the mysteriousPresence, who must either slay or pronounce deliverance.And then the great questioning again went upfrom earth to heaven, “God! Who art Thou?Where art Thou? Why is it thus with the creaturesof Thy hand?” I fought the battle alone, in deeprecesses of the beautiful woods and pine forests16around our home, or on some lonely hillside, amongwild thyme and heather, a silent temple where theonly sounds were the plaintive cry of the curlew, orthe hum of a summer bee, or the distant bleating ofsheep. For hours and days and weeks in theseretreats I sought the answer to my soul’s troubleand the solution of its dark questionings. Lookingback, it seems to me the end must have been defeatand death had not the Saviour imparted to the childwrestler something of the virtue of His own midnightagony, when in Gethsemane His sweat fell like greatdrops of blood to the ground.

It was not a speedy or an easy victory. Laterthe conflict was renewed, as there dawned upon methe realities of those earthly miseries which I hadrealised only in a measure by intuition; but laterstill came the outward and active conflict, with,thanks be to God, the light and hope and guidancewhich He never denies to them who seek and ask andknock, and which become for them as “an anchorof the soul, sure and steadfast.”

Looking my Liberator in the face, can my friendswonder that I have taken my place, (I took it longago)—oh! with what infinite contentment!—by theside of her, the “woman in the city which was asinner,” of whom He, her Liberator and mine,said, as He can also say of me,17“this woman hath not ceased to kiss My feet.”

CHAPTER II.
OXFORD.

No record of Josephine Butler’s life would be at alltrue or complete which did not include some accountof her husband. His strong and gentle spirit greatlyinfluenced and aided her in all her public work, notonly with whole-hearted sympathy, but with activeco-operation whenever he had leisure from his otherduties. The following pages are taken from herRecollections of George Butler.

In visiting some great picture gallery, and passingalong amidst portraits innumerable of great men—ofkings, statesmen, discoverers, authors or poets—Ihave sometimes been attracted above all by a portraitwithout a name, or without the interest attachingto it of any recorded great exploit, but which, neverthelessinterests for its own sake. Something looksforth from those eyes—something of purity, ofsincerity, of goodness—which draws the beholderto go back again and again to that portrait, and whichgives it a lasting place in the memory long after manyother likenesses of earth’s heroes are more or lessforgotten. It is somewhat in this way that I thinkof a memorial or written likeness of George Butler, ifit can but be presented with a simplicity and fidelityworthy of its subject. His character—his singlemindedness,purity, truth, and firmness of attachment18to those whom he loved—seem to me worthy to berecorded and to be had in remembrance.

M. Fallot, in the Revue du Christianisme Pratique,sketches in a few words the character of the reveredteacher of his youth, Christophe Dieterlin, whosemortal remains rest beneath the hallowed soil of theBan de la Roche, in the Vosges, surmounted by arock of mountain granite—a suitable monument forsuch a man. When his pupil questioned him concerningprayer, he replied: “The Lord’s Prayer isin general sufficient for me. When praying in thesewords, all my personal preoccupations become mingledwith and lost in the great needs and desires of thewhole human race.” “He was a Christian,” saysM. Fallot, ”hors cadre, refractory to all classification,living outside all parties,” a child of Nature and a sonof God. These words might with truth be appliedto the character of George Butler. It would bedifficult to assign him a definite place in any categoryof persons or parties. He stands apart, hors cadre,in his gentleness and simplicity, and in a certainsturdy and immovable independence of character.

George Butler was born at Harrow on the 11th ofJune, 1819. He was the eldest son of a family of ten—fourbrothers and six sisters. Nothing very remarkablein the way of hard study or distinctioncan be recorded of him during his school career.When questioned in later life concerning anyexcellency he attained there, he would answer,reflectively, that he was considered to be extremelygood at “shying” stones. He could hit or knockover certain high-up and difficult chimney-pots withwonderful precision, to the envy of other mischievous19boys, and I suppose to the annoyance of the ownersof the chimney-pots. His father, the Dean of Peterborough,wrote to me in 1852: “Your references toGeorge’s early days make me feel quite young again.He certainly was a nice-looking boy, and had a prettyhead of hair; at least I thought so, and the remembranceof those nursery days is pleasant to me. Butoh! those early experiments in the science of projectilesupon the chimney-pots of the Harrovianneighbours—why remind me of them, unless you areyourself possessed of the same spirit of mischief?”

But school life was not all play for George Butler.He showed an early aptitude for scholarship, gainingamong several prizes that for Greek Iambics. In theautumn of 1838 George went up to Trinity College,Cambridge. During the year he spent at Cambridgethe sense of duty and of responsibility for the useof opportunities and gifts which he possessed laydormant within him. Those who loved him bestoften thanked God, however, as he did himself inlater life, that he had escaped the contamination ofcertain influences which leave a stain upon the soul,and sometimes tend to give a serious warp to thejudgment of a man in regard to moral questions. Aremarkable native purity of mind, and a loyal andreverent feeling towards women, saved him fromassociations and actions which, had he ever yieldedto them, would have been a bitter memory to such aman as he was. In the interval between leavingCambridge and going to Oxford he spent severalmonths in the house of Mr. Augustus Short (afterwardsBishop of Adelaide). It was while under hisroof that he imbibed a true love of work, and learned20the enjoyment of overcoming difficulties, and of asteady effort, without pause, towards a definite goal.

One of his life-long and most valued friends,the Rev. Cowley Powles, writes: “It was, I think,in 1841 that Butler got the Hertford Scholarship.I remember meeting him just after his success hadbeen announced. I was coming back from a ride, andhe stopped me and said: ‘I have got the Hertford.’The announcement was made in his quietest voice,and with no elation of manner, though his countenanceshowed how much he was pleased. Never wasthere a man with less brag about him.” In 1843George Butler took his degree, having obtained afirst class. He kept up his connection very closelywith Oxford for four years, making use of thetime for various studies, and taking pupils or readingparties during the long vacations. In 1848 he wasappointed to a Tutorship at the University ofDurham, which he retained for a little more than twoyears. It was during the latter part of his residencethere that I first made his acquaintance.

The following, written after our engagement,shows his extreme honesty of character, while itindicates in some faint degree his just and unselfishview of what the marriage relation should be;namely, a perfectly equal union, with absolute freedomon both sides for personal initiative in thoughtand action and for individual development.

“I do not ask you to write oftener. I would haveyou follow the dictates of your own heart in this;but be always certain that whatever comes fromyou is thrice welcome. I write because I feel it tobe necessary to my happiness. I have lately written21to you out of the fulness of my heart, when my soulwas deeply moved to strive after a higher life. Butoften my letters will be about trifling matters, sothat you may be tempted to say, ‘Why write atall?’ Yet, after all, life is largely made up oftrifles. Moreover, I do not wish to invest myself inborrowed plumes. I do not want you to find outlater that I am much like other people, perhaps evenmore commonplace than most. I would rather youreyes were opened at once. I cannot reproach myselfwith ever having assumed a character not my own toyou or to anyone. Such impostures are always toodeeply purchased by the loss of self-respect. ButI fear that you may have formed too high an estimateof my character—one to which I can never come up;and for your sake I would wish to remove every veiland obstacle which might prevent your seeing mejust as I am. If I were only to write to you whenmy better feelings were wrought upon, you mightthink me much better than I am, so I will write toyou on every subject and in every mood. Those lineswhich I sent to you gave no exaggerated picture.I have often felt in a very different spirit to that inwhich we should say ‘Our Father.’ The prayingfor particular blessings, which is enjoined by thewords of the Lord Jesus, ‘Ask, and ye shall receive,’has appeared to me at times as derogatory to theomniscient and all-provident character of God.Can He, I have thought, alter the smallest of Hisdispensations at the request of such a weak andinsignificant being as I am? This vain philosophy,the offspring of intellectual pride, has had more to dowith blighting my faith than wilful sin or the worl22d’sbreath! But though I have ‘wandered out of theway in the wilderness,’ I do not despair of takingpossession of the promised land. You say you cando so little for me. Will it be little, Josephine, if,urged by your encouragement and example, I put offthe works of darkness and put on the armour of light?Blessings from the Giver of all blessings fall uponyou for the joy you have given to me, for the new lifeto which you have called me! I should think itundue presumption in me to suggest anything toyou in regard to your life and duties. He who hash*therto guided your steps will continue to do so.Believe me, I value the expression of your confidenceand affection above ‘pearls and precious stones’; butI must not suffer myself to be dazzled, or to fancythat I have within me that power of judging andacting aright which would alone authorise me to pointout to you any path in which you ought to walk.I am more content to leave you to walk by yourselfin the path you shall choose; but I know that I do notleave you alone and unsupported, for His arm willguide, strengthen and protect you. I only pray,then, that you may be more and more conformed tothe image of Him who set us a perfect example, andthat He will dispose my heart to love and admiremost those things in you which are most admirableand lovely.”

During the years 1848-49 the Dean of Peterboroughfrequently wrote to his son expressing hisdesire to see him turning his mind towards theministry—hoping that he would decide on takingorders. The Dean was sincerely convinced thatthere was nothing which ought to make his son23hesitate to take so serious a step, and that the dutiesof a clergyman would have a beneficial effect on hischaracter, tending to his highest good and happiness.That, however, was far from being his son’s view ofthe matter. While appreciating his father’s motivesin urging him in this direction, and replying ingeneral terms with a gentle courtesy, he seems tohave felt convinced that it was impossible for himto follow his advice in the matter. Finally he wrote:“I thank you, my dear father, for your welcomeletter. I think I have already told you that I haveno internal call to, nor inclination for, the Church.On the contrary, I should feel I was guilty of a wrongaction if I embarked in any work or profession forneither the theoretical nor the practical part ofwhich I had any taste. And if this be true ofordinary professions, is it not so in a tenfold degreein the case of the Church? I feel at present noattraction towards the study of dogmatical theology,or any branch of study in which a clergyman shouldbe versed; and I cannot get over the scruples I haveagainst such a step as you advise. I am at presentengaged, usefully I hope, in a place of Christianeducation, closely connected with a cathedral church,with abundant opportunities of adding to my stockof knowledge in various subjects, as well as ofimparting to others what I know. I do not see, atpresent, any necessity for planning any change in mymode of life.”

How was it then, it may be asked, that he didactually elect to become a clergyman some six yearslater? The answer is, he had gradually becomeconvinced that the work of his life was to be24educational, and the desire arose in his mind to beable to stand towards the younger men or boys whoshould come under his care in the position of theirpastor as well as their teacher. He weighed thematter gravely for a long time before becoming aclergyman; but after having taken the step, he neverrepented of having done so. To the end of his life,however, his character continued to be essentiallythat of a layman. In 1851 he wrote:—

“You know that I don’t like parsons; but thatis not to the point. If I should ever take orders,I don’t mean to be a mere parson; for if I were likesome of them whom I know I should cease to be aman. I shall never wear straight waistcoats, longcoats and stiff collars! I think all dressing up andofficial manner are an affectation; while greatstrictness in outward observances interferes with thedevotion of the heart; and though it may indicatea pious spirit—and therefore deserves our respect—itshows, as I think, a misconception of the relation inwhich we stand to God, and of the duties we owe toman. It seems to me, after all, that being a goodclergyman is much the same thing as being a goodman. I have a longing to be of use, and I know of noline in which I can be more useful than the educational,my whole life having been turned more orless in this direction. It is a blessed office that of ateacher. With all its troubles and heart-wearyingsand disappointments, yet it is full of delight to thosewho enter upon it with their whole heart and soul,and in reliance upon our great Teacher. I know ofno occupation which more carries its present rewardwith it.”

25

Our marriage took place on the 8th of January,1852, at Dilston. Shortly afterwards we settled atOxford, which became our home for five years. In reviewingthe work done by George Butler in the courseof his educational career, one cannot but be struckby the fact that he was somewhat in advance of histime. There are men theoretically in advance oftheir times, who do good service by their advocacy ofprogressive principles in writing or in speech. Withhim it was more a matter of simple practice. Heperceived that some study useful or necessary forthe future generations, and in itself worthy, hadscarcely an acknowledged place in the curriculum ofthe schools and universities, or that some new groundnecessary to be explored was still left untrodden; andwithout saying much about it, without any thoughtof being himself a pioneer in any direction, hemodestly set himself to the task of acting out histhoughts on the subject. His absolute freedom frompersonal vanity withheld him from proclaiming thathe was about to enter on any new line, and at thesame time enabled him to bear with perfect calm, ifnot with indifference, the criticisms, witty remarksand sometimes serious opposition which are seldomwanting when a man or woman ventures quietly toencroach upon the established order of things in anydepartment of life. At Oxford he was the first whobrought into prominence the study of geography.His geographical lectures there were quite an innovation,creating some amusem*nt and a good dealof wonder as to how he would succeed. It was asubject which had hitherto been relegated in anelementary form to schools for boys and girls, and26was unrecognised, except by a very few persons, asthe grand and comprehensive scientific study whichit is now acknowledged to be.

At Oxford the subject was entirely new, at leastto the older members of the university, who, however,to their credit, came to the lectures, andlistened with teachable minds to truths novel tothem concerning the world they were living in. Wedrew large illustrative maps for the walls of thelecture room. I recall a day when I was drawingin a rough form an enlarged map of Europe, includingthe northern coast of Africa and a part of Asia Minor.It happened that several fellows and tutors of collegescalled at that moment. I continued my work whilethey chatted with him on the curiosity of his introductionin Oxford of so elementary a study. Theconversation then turned on letters we had justreceived from Arthur Stanley and Theodore Walrond,who were visiting Egypt. “Where is Cairo?”someone asked, turning to the map spread on thetable. I put the question to an accomplishedcollege tutor. His eye wandered hopelessly over thechart. He could not even place his hand on Egypt!I was fain to pretend that I needed to study myperformance more closely, and bent down my headin order to conceal the irreverent laughter whichovercame me.

George Butler was one of the first, also, whointroduced and encouraged the study of Art in Oxfordin a practical sense. In the winter of 1852-53 heobtained the permission of the Vice-Chancellor andCurators to give a course of lectures on Art in theTaylor building. These lectures were afterwards27published by J. W. Parker, under the title ofPrinciples of Imitative Art. While promoting thestudy of Art in Oxford, working with pupils, andexamining in the schools, he undertook to write aseries of Art criticisms for the Morning Chronicle andafterwards for another paper, visiting for thispurpose the galleries and yearly exhibitions inLondon. This he did for a year or two.

“It was amusing,” he wrote to his mother, afterhis first visit in this capacity to the Society ofBritish Artists, “to see the ‘gentlemen of the press’(of whom I was one!) walking about dotting downobservations. I travelled up to town with Scott,the architect, who has engaged me to attend ameeting of his workmen, and give them an addresson ‘Decorative Art and the Dignity of Labour.’Josephine and I are both engaged in copying somedrawings by Turner in the Taylor Gallery.”

Indefatigable in his efforts to master any subjectwhich attracted him, he was also equally readyand anxious to impart to others any knowledgehe had thus gained. He found time among hisother occupations to make a very thorough studyof some ancient Oscan inscriptions, with engravingsof their principal monuments, which hefound in the Bodleian Library. He became muchinterested in that portion of history—almost lostin the mists of the past—which is illustrated bythe marvellous records and monuments of Oscan,Umbrian, and Etruscan life in the great museum atBologna. He worked at and completed, during oneof the long vacations, a series of enlarged copies insepia of the small engravings and prints of these28monuments in the Bodleian. These enlargementswere suitable for wall illustrations, for a set of lectureswhich he afterwards gave on the “Ancient Races ofItaly.” It was very pleasant to us when we visitedFlorence together, some years later, to see theoriginals of some of the Cyclopean ruins of which wehad together made large drawings, those giganticstones of all that remains of the ancient Etruscanwalls of Fiesole, up to the lovely heights of whichwe drove one clear, bright winter’s day.

I have many other memories of our life at Oxford—somevery sweet, others grave. I recall with specialpleasure our summer evening rides. During the firsttwo years we spent there my father kindly providedme with a horse, a fine, well-bred chestnut. Myhusband and I explored together all the rising groundsround Oxford. Behind our own little garden therewere tall trees where nightingales sang night and dayfor a few weeks in spring. But it was in the BagleyWoods and in Abingdon Park that those academicbirds put forth all their powers. We sometimes rodefrom five in the afternoon till the sun set and thedew fell, on grassy paths between thick undergrowthsof woods such as nightingales love to haunt, and fromwhich issued choruses of matchless song.

Our Italian studies were another source of enjoyment.Dante Rossetti was then preparing matterfor his book, Dante and His Circle, by carefullytranslating into English the Vita Nuova and lyricalpoems of Dante, together with other sonnets andpoems written by some of his predecessors, such asCavalcante, Orlandi and Angiolieri of Siena. Mr.Rossetti sent to us occasionally for criticism some of29his translations of the exquisite sonnets of Dante, theEnglish of which he was anxious to make as perfectas possible. We had visited Rossetti’s studio atChelsea, where he had shown us his portfolios oforiginal sketches for his great paintings, besides manyunfinished drawings and pathetic incidents expressedin artist’s shorthand—slight but beautiful pencildesigns. My husband’s critical faculty and classicaltaste enabled him to return the sonnets submittedto his judgment with occasional useful comments.There was little to find fault with in them, however.

Aurelio Saffi was at this time in exile and livingin Oxford. He had been associated with Mazziniand Armellini in the Triumvirate which ruled inRome for a short period, and was parliamentarydeputy for his own native town of Forli. He wasa cultivated and literary man, with a thoroughknowledge of the Italian poets. As an exile hismaterial means were at that time very slender.My husband sought his acquaintance, and invitedhim to give a series of evening lectures on Dantein our own drawing-room. These were attractive tosome, and increased the personal interest felt in Saffiin the university. Twenty-seven years later, havingreturned to Italy from exile, Saffi was presiding at agreat congress in Genoa where we were. He alluded,with much feeling, to the years he had spent inOxford; and turning to my husband, who was nearhim, he said:30 “It is twenty-seven years to-day that,an exile from my native land, I had the happiness ofbeing received in your house at Oxford, and I havenever forgotten, and shall never forget, the hospitableand gracious reception given to me by you and yourworthy companion. The times are changed; a longinterval has elapsed, and it is to me a great joyto-day to greet you once more, and on my nativesoil.”

But this pleasant life at Oxford had its shadowside. I had come from a large family circle, and fromfree country life to a university town—a society ofcelibates, with little or no leaven of family life; forOxford was not then what it is now under expandedconditions, with its married fellows and tutors, itsresident families, its ladies’ colleges, and its mixed,general social life. With the exception of the familiesof a few heads of houses, who lived much secludedwithin their college walls, there was little or no homelife, and not much freedom of intercourse betweenthe academical portion of the community and others.A one-sidedness of judgment is apt to be fostered bysuch circ*mstances—an exaggeration of the purelymasculine judgment on some topics, and a conventualmode of looking at things.

In the frequent social gatherings in our drawing-roomin the evenings there was much talk, sometimesserious and weighty, sometimes light, interesting,critical, witty and brilliant, ranging over manysubjects. It was then that I sat silent, the onlywoman in the company, and listened, sometimes witha sore heart; for these men would speak of thingswhich I had already revolved deeply in my own mind,things of which I was convinced, which I knew,though I had no dialectics at command with which todefend their truth. A few remarks made on thoseevenings stand out in my memory. They may seem31slight and unimportant, but they had a significancefor me, linking themselves, as they did, to long trainsof thought which for some years past had beentending to form my own convictions.

A book was published at that time by Mrs. Gaskell,and was much discussed. This led to expressionsof judgment which seemed to me false—fatally false.A moral lapse in a woman was spoken of as animmensely worse thing than in a man; there was nocomparison to be formed between them. A purewoman, it was reiterated, should be absolutelyignorant of a certain class of evils in the world,albeit those evils bore with murderous cruelty onother women. One young man seriously declaredthat he would not allow his own mother to read sucha book as that under discussion—a book whichseemed to me to have a very wholesome tendency,though dealing with a painful subject. Silence wasthought to be the great duty of all on such subjects.On one occasion, when I was distressed by a bittercase of wrong inflicted on a very young girl, Iventured to speak to one of the wisest men—soesteemed—in the university, in the hope that hewould suggest some means, not of helping her, butof bringing to a sense of his crime the man who hadwronged her. The sage, speaking kindly however,sternly advocated silence and inaction. “It couldonly do harm to open up in any way such a questionas this. It was dangerous to arouse a sleepinglion.” I left him in some amazement and discouragement,and for a long time there echoed in myheart the terrible prophetic words of the painter-poetBlake—rude and indelicate as he may have been32judged then—whose prophecy has only been avertedby a great and painful awakening—

Every instinct of womanhood within me wasalready in revolt against certain accepted theoriesin society, and I suffered as only God and the faithfulcompanion of my life could ever know. Incidentsoccurred which brought their contribution to thelessons then sinking into our hearts. A youngmother was in Newgate for the murder of her infant,whose father, under cover of the death-like silenceprescribed by Oxford philosophers—a silence whichis in fact a permanent endorsem*nt of injustice—hadperjured himself to her, had forsaken and forgottenher, and fallen back, with no accusing conscience,on his easy, social life, and possibly his academichonours. I wished to go and speak to her in prisonof the God who saw the injustice done, and who caredfor her. My husband suggested that we shouldwrite to the chaplain of Newgate, and ask him tosend her to us when her sentence had expired. Wewanted a servant, and he thought that she mightbe able to fill that place. She came to us. I thinkshe was the first of the world of unhappy women ofa humble class whom he welcomed to his own home.She was not the last.

A travelling circus came to the neighbourhood.A young woman who performed as an acrobat somehowconveyed to us her longing desire to leave thelife in which she was plunged, the most innocent partof which was probably her acrobatic performances.33She had aspirations very far beyond what is usuallyexpected from a circus woman. She wanted toserve God. She saw a light before her, she said, andshe must follow it. She went secretly to churchesand chapels, and then she fled—she did not knowwhere—but was recaptured. It was a Sundayevening in hot summer weather. I had been sittingfor some time at my open window to breathe morefreely the sultry air, and it seemed to me that I hearda wailing cry somewhere among the trees in thetwilight which was deepening into night. It was awoman’s cry—a woman aspiring to heaven anddragged back to hell—and my heart was pierced withpain. I longed to leap from the window, and fleewith her to some place of refuge. It passed. Icannot explain the nature of the impression, whichremains with me to this day; but beyond thattwilight, and even in the midst of the pitiful cry,there seemed to dawn a ray of light and to sounda note not wholly of despair. The light was far off,yet coming near, and the slight summer breeze inthose tall trees had in them a whisper of the future.But when the day dawned it seemed to show me againmore plainly than ever the great wall of prejudice,built up on a foundation of lies, which surrounded awhole world of sorrows, griefs, injustices and crimeswhich must not be spoken of—no, not even inwhispers—and which it seemed to me then that nohuman power could ever reach or remedy. AndI met again the highly-educated, masculine worldin our evening gatherings more than ever resolvedto hold my peace—to speak little with men, but muchwith God. No doubt the experience of those years34influenced in some degree my maturer judgment ofwhat is called “educated public opinion.”

My motive in writing these recollections is to tellwhat he was—my husband—and to show how,besides all that he was in himself and all the work hedid, which was wholly and especially his own, hewas of a character to be able from the first to correctthe judgment and soothe the spirit of the companionof his life when “the waters had come in even untoher soul.” I wish to show, also, that he was evenmore to me in later life than a wise and noble supporterand helper in the work which may have beencalled more especially my own. He had a part inthe creation of it, in the formation of the firstimpulses towards it. Had that work been purely aproduct of the feminine mind, of a solitary, woundedand revolted heart, it would certainly have lackedsome elements essential to its becoming in anyway useful or fruitful. But for him I should havebeen much more perplexed than I was. The idea ofjustice to women, of equality between the sexes, andof equality of responsibility of all human beings tothe moral law, seems to have been instinctive in him.He never needed convincing. He had his convictionsalready from the first—straight, just and clear. I didnot at that time speak much, but whenever I spoke tohim the clouds lifted. It may seem a little strange tosay so, but, if I recall it truly, what helped me mostof all at that time was, not so much any argumentshe may have used in favour of an equal standard,but the correctness with which he measured the menand the judgments around him. I think there waseven a little element of disdain in his appreciation of35the one-sided judgments of some of his male friends.He used to say, “I am sorry for So-and-So,” whichsounded to me rather like saying, “I am sorry forSolomon,” my ideas of the wisdom of learned menbeing, perhaps, a little exaggerated. He would tellme that I ought to pity them. “They know nobetter, poor fellows.” This was a new light for me,I had thought of Oxford as the home of learning andof intellect. I thought the good and gifted men wedaily met must be in some degree authorities onspiritual and moral questions. It had not occurredto me to think of them as “poor fellows!” Thatblessed gift of common sense, which he possessedin so large a degree, came to the rescue to restore forme the balance of a mind too heavily weighted withsad thoughts of life’s perplexing problems. And thenin the evenings, when our friends had gone, we readtogether the words of Life, and were able to bringmany earthly notions and theories to the test of whatthe Holy One and the Just said and did. Comparedwith the accepted axioms of the day, and indeed ofcenturies past, in regard to certain vital questions, thesayings and actions of Jesus were, we confessed toone another, revolutionary. George Butler was notafraid of revolution. In this sense he desired it,and we prayed together that a holy revolution mightcome about, and that the Kingdom of God might beestablished on the earth. And I said to myself: “Andit is a man who speaks to me thus—an intelligent,a gifted man, a learned man too, few more learnedthan he, and a man who ever speaks the truth fromhis heart.” So I was comforted and instructed. Itwas then that I began to see his portrait given, and36I see it still more clearly now as I look back over hiswhole past life, in the 15th Psalm: “Lord, who shalldwell in Thy tabernacle? Or who shall rest uponThy holy hill? Even he that leadeth an uncorruptlife, and doeth the thing which is right, and speakeththe truth from his heart. He that hath used nodeceit in his tongue, nor done evil to his neighbour,and hath not slandered his neighbour. He thatsetteth not by himself, but is lowly in his own eyes,and maketh much of them that fear the Lord. Hethat sweareth unto his neighbour, and disappointethhim not, even though it were to his own hindrance.”

The winter floods which so often surrounded Oxfordduring the years of which I am writing are probablyremembered with a shudder by others besidesmyself. The mills and locks, and other impedimentsto the free flow of the waters of the Isis, were, Ibelieve, long ago removed, and the malarial effectof the stagnation of moisture around the city ceasedwith its cause. But at that time Oxford in winteralmost resembled Venice, in its apparent isolationfrom the land, and in the appearance of its towersand spires reflected in the mirror of the floods.“It rained,” wrote George in January, 1856, “allyesterday, and to-day it is cold and damp. Indeed,immediately after sunset the atmosphere of Oxfordresembles that of a well, though that is scarcelyso bad as the horrible smell of the meadows whenthe floods are retiring. Then one is conscious of amiasma which only a strong constitution can longresist.”

My health failed. I became weak and liable toattacks of chills and fever. We drove out occasionally37to the heights above Oxford, to reach which we wereobliged to pursue for some distance a road whichresembled a sort of high level or causeway (as inHolland) with water on each side. Looking backfrom the higher ground, the view of the academiccity sitting upon the floods was very picturesque.Indeed, the sound of “Great Tom” knelling thecurfew from his tower had a very musical andsolemn effect as it came over the still waters, resemblinga little in pathos the sound of a humanvoice giving warning of the approach of night; or,like Dante’s Squilla di lontana—

but poetry and sentiment could not hold out againstrheumatic pains and repeated chills.

I spent several months of that year—1856—inNorthumberland with our children, my husbandjoining us after he had completed his engagementsas a public examiner in London. His letters, duringthe few weeks of our separation, seemed to show adeepening of spiritual life—such as is sometimesgranted in the foreshadowing of the approach ofsome special discipline or sorrow. He seems to havefelt more deeply during this summer that he mustnot reckon on the unbroken continuance of theoutward happiness which had been so richly grantedto us.

To Mrs. Grey.

Oxford, June 6th, 1856.

38

“I am glad to feel that my treasures are in suchgood hands and life-giving air. I hope their presenceat Dilston will contribute to the assurance thatmarriage is not a severance of family ties, but thatboth Josephine and I revert with the fondestattachment to old scenes and dearly loved friendsat Dilston.”

To his wife.

June, 1856.

“I am grieved to hear of your sufferings; but youwrite so cheerfully, and express such a loving confidencein One who is able to heal all our sicknesses,that I dare not repine. However sad at heart I maysometimes feel about you, I will try to bring myselfface to face with those mighty promises which areheld out to those who ‘rest in the Lord and waitpatiently for Him.’ And then I hope we shall stillbe able to go hand in hand in our work on earth.”

To his wife.

July 13th, 1856.

“I have been reading Tennyson’s ‘Maud,’ andcorrecting my review of it for Fraser’s Magazine.Reading love stories which end in death or separationmakes me dwell the more thankfully on my ownhappiness. It is no wonder that I am sanguine inall circ*mstances, and that I trust the love and careof our Almighty Father, for has He not blessed mefar beyond my deserts in giving me such a share ofhuman happiness as falls to the lot of few? Yet Hehas given us our thorn in the flesh, in your failinghealth, and our uncertain prospects. But these shallnever hinder our love; rather we will cling to thatmore closely as the symbol and earnest of the heavenlylove which displayed itself in that wondrous act—on39Calvary—which the wise men of this world may deemof as they will, but which to us will ever be the mostreal of all realities, and the sure token of our reconciliationwith God.

“I think we are well fitted to help each other. Nowords can express what you are to me. On theother hand, I may be able to cheer you in momentsof sadness and despondency, when the evils of thisworld press heavily upon you, and your strengthis not sufficient to enable you to rise up and do anythingto relieve them, as you fain would do. Andby means of possessing greater physical strength,and considerable power of getting through work,I may be enabled to help you in the years to come, tocarry out plans which may under His blessing dosome good, and make men speak of us with respectwhen we are laid in our graves; and in the unitedwork of bringing up our children, may God so helpus that we may be able to say, ‘Of those whomThou gavest us have we lost none.’”

While exercising much self-denial and reserve inmaking such extracts as the above, I give these fewas affording glimpses of his inner mind and deepaffection; for his character would be very inadequatelyportrayed if so prominent a feature ofit were concealed as that of his love for his wife, andthe constant blending of that love with all hisspiritual aspirations and endeavours. That love waspart of his being, becoming ever more deep andtender as the years went on. I have spoken of thestrength and tenacity of his friendships. Thesequalities entered equally into his closest domestic40relations. In the springtime of life, men dream,speak, write and sing of love—of love’s graciousbirth and beautiful youth. But it is not in thespringtime of life that love’s deepest depths can befathomed, its vastness measured, and its endurancetested. There is a love which surmounts all trialand discipline, all the petty vexations and worries,as well as the sorrows and storms of life, and whichflows on in an ever deepening current of tenderness,enhanced by memories of the past and hopes of thefuture—of the eternal life towards which it is tending.It was such a love as this, that dwelt and deepenedin him of whom I write to the latest moment of hisearthly life, to be perfected in the Divine presence.

On joining us at Dilston, an arrangement was madewith the vicar of the parish of Corbridge (in whichDilston was situated) that he should take his duty,occupying his house for the autumn, during hisabsence from home. Dissent prevailed largely inthe neighbourhood. But during the time that heacted as the clergyman of the parish the church waswell filled. Many Wesleyans came, who had notbefore entered its doors, as well as several familiesof well-to-do and well-instructed Presbyterianfarmers—shrewd people, well able to maintain theirground in a theological controversy. They wereattracted, no doubt, partly by the relationship ofthe temporary minister to my father, who was somuch beloved and esteemed throughout the county,and a constant worshipper in the village church,and partly by the simple Christian teaching for whichthey thirsted, and which they now found. Therewas little real poverty. We visited the people41sometimes together, and their affections werestrongly gained.

Our return to Oxford was not auspicious. Theautumn fell damp and cold. It was decided thatI should go to London to consult Sir James Clarke,on account of what seemed the development of aweakness of the lungs. I recall the tender solicitudewhich my husband showed for me on the journey,and also the kindness of the venerable physician.I was scarcely able to rise to greet him when heentered the room. At the close of our interview hemerely said, “Poor thing, poor thing! You musttake her away from Oxford.” We proposed toreturn therefore at once to make necessary preparationsfor the change, when he interposed, “No, shemust not return to the chilling influence of thosefloods, not for a single day.”

This was no light trial. Our pleasant home mustbe broken up; all the hopes and plans my husbandhad cherished abandoned; the house he had takenand furnished at some expense as a Hall for unattachedstudents thrown on his hands. To carryit on alone, to be separated for an indefinite time fromeach other, was scarcely possible. There seemed forthe present no alternative. He accepted calmly,though not without keen regret, what was clearlyinevitable. The difficulties of our position were fora time increased by a serious reverse of fortuneexperienced by my father, who had always beenready to aid on occasion the different members of thefamily. There had occurred a complete collapseof a bank in which he was a large shareholder. Theloss he sustained was great. The spirit in which he42bore the trial raised him still higher in the estimationof those who already so highly valued and admiredhim. Trouble followed upon trouble for a time,and my husband suffered all the more because ofsome inward self-reproach for having failed to exercisesufficient providence and foresight in the past. Hisgreatest anxiety was for me; but that happily wasgradually lightened as time went on.

Through the kindness of his friend, Mr. Powles, myhusband was called to take temporarily the charge ofa chapel at Blackheath, in the summer of 1857, whichgave him useful and congenial ministerial work whilecontinuing his literary pursuits. He had gone on inadvance to arrange for our removal to Blackheath.

To her husband.

St. Barnabas Day,

June 11th, 1857.

God bless you to-day and always, and make youa “Son of Consolation” to many in the time to come,as you have been to me. Earthly success is nolonger our aim. What I desire above all for you isthe fulfilment of the promise: “They that are wiseshall shine as the light, and they that turn many torighteousness, as the stars for ever and ever.” I hadan encouraging conversation yesterday with——,which fell in with the train of my thoughts regardingyou and myself. She said she had seen many casesin which individual chastening had preceded a life ofgreat usefulness, though the subject of the chasteninghad thought at the time that his life was passingaway, wasted or only spent in learning the lesson ofsubmission. She thought that those to whom thediscipline of life comes early rather than late ought43to thank God; for it makes them better able tominister to others, and to walk humbly with theirGod. May that be the case with us. The little boysremembered your birthday before they were out ofbed this morning, and have made an excursion toNightingale Valley in honour of it.

44

CHAPTER III.
CHELTENHAM.

In the autumn of 1857 my husband was invited tofill the post of Vice-Principal of the CheltenhamCollege. He accepted the invitation, and we went toCheltenham the same year. He here entered uponhis long course of assiduous and untiring work as aschoolmaster—a work which covered a quarter of acentury, beginning at Cheltenham in 1857, and continuedat Liverpool from the winter of 1865-66 until1882. We gained much at Cheltenham in an improvedclimate, and in the cessation of materialdifficulties and anxieties. We lived in a large house,in which, for some years, we received a number ofpupils. It was characteristic that it should havesupplied some of the best athletes of the College, andmany successful competitors in the school games, infeats of strength, activity and skill. My husbandconsidered physical training to be an essential partof the education of youth.

Our summer vacations continued to be spentlargely at Dilston; we went however one year toSwitzerland with our eldest son. We visited Lucerneand its neighbourhood, and afterwards the RhoneValley, Chamounix, and the great St. Bernard,passing a night at the hospice, where we profitedmuch by our intercourse with the beautiful dogs, one45of whom, a veteran called Bruno, the forefather ofmany a noble hound, attached himself to us, andmade himself our cicerone among the rocks in thedesolate surroundings of the monastery. Anothersummer excursion was, with two of our children, tothe Lakes of Killarney, including a visit to mybrother, Charles Grey, who lived then in a house ofLord Derby, at Ballykisteen, in the “golden vale”of Tipperary. In both these years my husbandbrought home many sketches. The grey rocksskirting the borders of Killarney lakes, with theirrichly-coloured covering of arbutus and otherflowering trees and evergreens, were temptingsubjects for water-colours.

My father had been a friend of Clarkson, and apractical worker in the movement for the abolitionof the slave trade. When the War of Secession inAmerica broke out, my husband’s sympathies werewarmly enlisted on behalf of those who desiredthe emancipation of the slaves, and he perceivedthat that was indeed the question, the vital questionof justice, which lay at the root of all that terriblestruggle. This was one of several occasions in ourunited life in which we found ourselves in a minority;members of a group at first so insignificant that itscarcely found a voice or a hearing anywhere, butwhose position was afterwards fully justified byevents. It was a good training in swimming againstthe tide, or at least in standing firm and letting thetide go by, and in maintaining, while doing so, acharitable attitude towards those who conscientiouslydiffered, and towards the thousands who floatcontentedly down the stream of the fashionable46opinion of the day. In this case the feeling ofisolation on a subject of such tragic interest was oftenpainful; but the discipline was useful, for it was ourlot again more emphatically in the future to haveto accept and endure this position for conscience’sake.

I recollect the sudden revulsion of feeling when thenews was telegraphed of the assassination of PresidentLincoln; the extraordinary rapidity of the changeof front of the “leading journal;” and the self-questioningsamong many whose intelligence andgoodness had certainly given them the right to thinkfor themselves, but who had not availed themselvesof that right. I remember the penitence of Punch,who had been among the scoffers against theabolitionists of slavery, and who now put himselfinto deep mourning, and gave to the public anaffecting cartoon of the British Lion bowed andweeping before the bier of Lincoln. A favouritescripture motto of my husband’s was, “Why do yenot of yourselves judge that which is right?” Buthe was not argumentative. He loved peace, andavoided every heated discussion. His silence was,perhaps, sometimes not less effectual by way ofrebuke or correction of shallow judgments thanspeech would have been. Goldwin Smith, one ofthe few at Oxford who saw at that time the innermeanings of the American struggle, paid us a visit.It occurred to us, while listening to some pointedremarks he was making on the prevalent opinionof the day, to ask him to write and publish somethingin reply to the often-repeated assertion that theBible itself favours slavery. “The Bible,” he replied,47“has been quoted in favour of every abominationthat ever cursed the earth.” He did not say hewould write; but the idea sank into his mind, andnot long after he sent us his able and exquisitelittle book, entitled Does the Bible sanction Slavery?—amasterly and beautiful exposition of the true spiritof the Mosaic law, and of the Theocratic governmentand training of the ancient Hebrew people in relationto this and other questions. This book was naturallynot popular at the time, and I fear it has long beenout of print. (It was published in 1863.)

In this connection it is interesting to record, thattwo other notable books owed their inspiration in alarge measure to Josephine Butler. The Patienceof Hope, by Dora Greenwell, published in 1859, wasdedicated to J. E. B., with the inscription—A teprincipium, tibi desinet (from thee begun with theemy work shall close). Te sine nil altum mens inchoat(without thee nothing high my mind essays).Frederic Myers, who had been at school at CheltenhamCollege, in his Fragments of Inner Life,1 tellshow“Christian conversion came to me in a potentform—through the agency of Josephine Butler, néeGrey, whose name will not be forgotten in the annalsof English philanthropy. She introduced me toChristianity, so to say, by an inner door; not to itsencumbering forms and dogmas, but to its heart offire. My poems of St. Paul and St. John the Baptist,intensely personal in their emotion, may serve assufficient record of those years of eager faith.” St.Paul, published in 1867, was dedicated to J. E. B.,with the inscription—ᾗ καὶ τὴν ἐμὴν ψυχην ὀφείλω(to whom I owe my very soul). In 1869 Myers48gave up a Lectureship at Trinity in order to devotehimself to the promotion of the higher education ofwomen, and he was one of the small band of universitymen, who worked hard with Josephine Butler and hercolleagues on the North of England Council, to whichwe shall refer later on.

Among the public events which interested us mostduring these years was the revolution in Naples,the change of dynasty, and Garibaldi’s career.Our interest was in part of a personal nature, as mysister, Madame Meuricoffre, and her husband werein the midst of these events. She had succeededJessie White Mario in the care of the woundedGaribaldians in the hospitals, and was personallyacquainted with some of the actors in the dramaticscenes of that time. Having told her that myhusband had set as a subject for a prize essay—to becompeted for in the College at Cheltenham—“Theunification of Italy,” my sister mentioned it toGaribaldi, in expressing to him our sympathy forhim and his cause. He immediately wrote a fewlines, signing his name at the end, to be sent, throughher, to the boy who should write the best essay onthe subject so near to his heart.

A part of the summer holidays of 1864 were spentat Coniston in the house of Mr. James Marshall,which he lent to us. His sister, Mrs. Myers, hadbeen our kind and constant friend at Cheltenham.It was a beautiful summer. We had returned toCheltenham only a few days when a heavy sorrowfell upon our home, the brightest of our little circlebeing suddenly snatched away from us. The darkshadow of that cloud cannot easily be described.49I quote part of a letter written some weeks after ourchild’s death to a friend.

Cheltenham, August, 1864.

These are but weak words. May you neverknow the grief which they hide rather than reveal.But God is good. He has, in mercy, at last sentme a ray of light, and low in the dust at His feetI have thanked Him for that ray of light as I neverthanked Him for any blessing in the whole of mylife before. It was difficult to endure at first theshock of the suddenness of that agonising death.Little gentle spirit! the softest death for her wouldhave seemed sad enough. Never can I lose thatmemory—the fall, the sudden cry, and then thesilence. It was pitiful to see her, helpless in herfather’s arms, her little drooping head resting onhis shoulder, and her beautiful golden hair, all stainedwith blood, falling over his arm. Would to Godthat I had died that death for her! If we had beenpermitted, I thought, to have one look, one wordof farewell, one moment of recognition! Butthough life flickered for an hour, she never recognisedthe father and mother whom she loved so dearly.We called her by her name, but there was no answer.She was our only daughter, the light and joy of ourlives. She flitted in and out like a butterfly all day.She had never had a day’s or an hour’s illness in allher sweet life. She never gave us a moment ofanxiety, her life was one flowing stream of mirthand fun and abounding love. The last morning shehad said to me a little verse she had learned somewhere—

50

Every morning the warm sun

Rises fair and bright;

But the evening cometh on,

And the dark, cold night.

There is a bright land far away,

Where tis never-ending day!

The dark, cold night came too soon for us, forit was that same evening, at seven o’clock, that shefell. The last words I had with her were about apretty caterpillar she had found; she came to myroom to beg for a little box to put it in. I gaveit her and said, “Now trot away, for I am late fortea.” What would I not give now for five minutesof that sweet presence? The only discipline sheever had was an occasional conflict with her ownstrong feelings and will. She disliked nothing somuch as her little German lessons. FräuleinBlümke had called her one day to have one. Shewas sitting in a low chair. She grasped the armsof it tightly, and, looking very grave anddetermined, she replied, “Hush, wait a bit, I amfighting!” She sat silent for a few moments, andthen walked quickly and firmly to have her Germanlesson. Fräulein asked her what she meant by sayingshe was fighting, and she replied, “I was fightingwith myself” (to overcome her unwillingness to goto her books). I overheard Fräulein say to her inthe midst of the lesson: “Arbeit, Eva, arbeit!”To which Eva replied with decision, “I am arbeiting,Miss Blümke, as hard as ever I can.”

One evening last autumn, when I went to see herafter she was in bed and we were alone, she said:51“Mammy, if I go to heaven before you, when thedoor of heaven opens to let you in I will run so fastto meet you; and when you put your arms round me,and we kiss each other, all the angels will stand stillto see us.” And she raised herself up in her ardour,her face beaming and her little chest heaving withthe excitement of her loving anticipation. I recallher look; not the merry laughing look she generallyhad, but softened into an overflowing tenderness ofthe soul. She lay down again, but could not rest,and raising herself once more said, “I would like topray again” (she had already said her little prayer);and we prayed again, about this meeting in heaven.I never thought for a moment that she would gofirst. I don’t think I ever had a thought of deathin connection with her; she was so full of life andenergy. She was always showing her love in activeways. We used to imagine what it would be whenshe grew up, developing into acts of mercy andkindness. She was passionately devoted to herfather, and after hugging him, and heaping endearingnames upon him, she would fly off and tax her poorlittle tender fingers by making him something—apincushion or kettle-holder. She made him blue,pink, white and striped pincushions and mats, forwhich he had not much use. But now he treasuresup her poor little gifts as more precious than gold.If my head ached, she would bathe it with a spongefor an hour without tiring. Sweet Eva! Wellmight the Saviour say, “Of such is the Kingdom ofHeaven.” She was so perfectly truthful, candidand pure. It was a wonderful repose for me, agood gift of God, when troubled by the evils in theworld or my own thoughts, to turn to the perfect52innocence and purity of that little maiden. Butthat joy is gone now for us. I am troubled for myhusband. His grief is so deep and silent; but he isvery, very patient. He loves children and all youngcreatures, and his love for her was wonderful. Herface, as she lay in death, wore a look of sweet, calmsurprise, as if she said, “Now I see God.” We stoodin awe before her. She seemed to rebuke our griefin her rapt and holy sleep. Her hair had grownvery long lately, and was of a deep chestnut brown,which in the sun flashed out all golden:—

Hair like a golden halo lying

Upon a pillow white;

Parted lips that mock all sighing,

Good night—good night!

Good night in anguish and in bitter pain;

Good morrow crowns another of the heavenly train.

This sorrow seemed to give in a measure a newdirection to our lives and interests. There weresome weeks of uncomforted grief. Her flight fromearth had had the appearance of a most cruelaccident. But do the words “accident” or“chance” properly find a place in the vocabularyof those who have placed themselves, and those dearto them, in a special manner under the daily providentialcare of a loving God? Here there enteredinto the heart of our grief the intellectual difficulty,the moral perplexity and dismay which are not theleast terrifying of the phantoms which haunt the“Valley of the shadow of Death”—that dark passagethrough which some toil only to emerge into ahopeless and final denial of the Divine goodness,53the complete bankruptcy of faith; and others, bythe mercy of God, through a still deeper experience,into a yet firmer trust in His unfailing love.

One day, going into his study, I found my husbandalone, and looking ill. His hands were cold, he hadan unusual paleness in his face, and he seemed faint.I was alarmed. I kneeled beside him, and, shakingmyself out of my own stupor of grief, I spoke“comfortably” to him, and forced myself to talkcheerfully, even joyfully, of the happiness of ourchild, of the unclouded brightness of her brief lifeon earth, and her escape from the trials and sorrowsshe might have met with had she lived. Heresponded readily to the offered comfort, and theeffort to strengthen him was helpful to myself.After this I often went to him in the evening afterschool hours, when, sitting side by side, we spokeof our child in heaven, until our own loss seemed tobecome somewhat less bitter.

The following is from a brief diary of the close ofthat sad year—

October 30th.—Last night I slept uneasily. Idreamed I had my darling in my arms, dying; thatshe struggled to live for my sake, lived again amoment, and then died. Just then I heard asound, a low voice at my door, and I sprang to myfeet. It was poor Stanley (our second son), scarcelyawake, and in a fever. I took him in my arms, andcarried him back to his bed, from which he had cometo seek my help. In the morning he could notswallow, and pointed to his throat. Dr. Ker cameand said he had diphtheria. My heart sank. I54wondered whether God meant to ask us to give upanother child so soon.

His illness was very severe, and for some days hehovered between life and death. But we were sparedthe added sorrow we dreaded. When he wassufficiently recovered, it was thought better that Ishould go with him abroad, to escape the winter’scold, and for a change of scene from that houseround which clung the memory of such a tragicsorrow. My husband and other sons came to Londonwith us, and a pleasant and able courier was engaged,who accompanied me and my little convalescent toGenoa, where we had been invited by kind relativesliving there.

At the end of this visit it was arranged thatI should accompany my sister to Naples, whenwe learned that the railway and roads wereflooded, and that travelling by land would bedifficult and even dangerous. Being unwillingto give up the long-cherished hope of a visitto my sister’s home, I proposed that we shouldgo by sea. My sister, though fearing a sea voyagefor me in winter, assented to the arrangement,and as the weather was then very calm westarted with good hopes. I had not, however,realised the gravity of the shock which my healthhad sustained before leaving England.

On this voyage she was taken very seriously ill,nigh unto death. “I was kneeling,” writes hersister,55 “and rubbing her hands and feet, trying towarm them; and while my imagination was realisingall the terrors, my heart was praying desperately toGod that He would make a way of escape, that Hewould work a miracle for us. And He did. Thethree boys went away and all prayed to God to saveher. After a time I felt a hand on my shoulder.It was the captain. He said: ‘I saw the othermail vessel coming north, and I have signalled her.If she sees us you shall go on board and return toLeghorn. Make haste!’ I drew a long breath andsaid: ‘Thank God, I think we are saved!’ I feltthe horror melting away in a measure, and hopespringing up. We rolled her up, and I went for theweeping children, and found the kind young Sicilianofficer comforting them. I thanked him. He said,in Italian, something about the love of Christ, sokindly. I had said very little about her. Peoplemust have been impressed with her look, and thoughther dying, to take such extreme measures as to stopthe two Government steamers on the high seas.”

56

CHAPTER IV.
LIVERPOOL.

In the winter of 1865 my husband received one daya telegraphic message from Mr. Parker, of Liverpool,asking him if he would be willing to take thePrincipalship of the Liverpool College, vacated bythe retirement of Dr. Howson, who became Dean ofChester. He accepted the invitation as providential,and went to Liverpool to see Mr. Parker, thedirectors of the college, and others interested inthe choice of a new principal. There was nohesitation about the matter, and he was shortlyafterwards elected. Our removal to Liverpool tookplace in January, 1866.

Liverpool is one of the largest seaports of the world.No greater contrast could have been found than itpresented to the academic, intellectual character ofOxford, or the quiet educational and socialconditions at Cheltenham. Its immense population,with a large intermingling of foreign elements, itstwelve miles of docks lined with warehouses, itsmagnificent shipping, its cargoes and foreign sailorsfrom every part of the world and from every nationof the earth, its varieties in the way of creeds andplaces of worship, its great wealth and its abjectpoverty, the perpetual movement, the coming and57going, and the clash of interests in its midst—allthese combined to make Liverpool a city of largeand international character, and of plentifulopportunities for the exercise of public spirit andcatholic sentiment. The college shared thecharacteristics of the city in the midst of which itwas set. Among its eight to nine hundred pupilsthere were Greeks, Armenians, Jews, Negroes,Americans, French, Germans, and Spaniards, aswell as Welsh, Irish, Scotch and English. Theserepresented many different religious persuasions.A man of narrow theological views would scarcelyhave found the position as head of such a schoolagreeable. Firmness and simplicity of faith, truth,charity and toleration, were qualities which wereneeded in the administrator of such a little world ofvaried international and denominational elements.The principalship must be held, by the rules of thecollege, by a member of the Church of England, andthe directors had been happy in finding churchmenwho were willing to accept the conditions presented,and able to work well in the midst of them. Therewere, as pupils at the college, the sons of two half-civilisedAfrican kings, Oko Jumbo and Jah-Jah.Their fathers having been old and sworn enemies,the two little fellows began their school acquaintancewith many a tussle true to the inherited instinct.They were good boys, however, and one of them—afterwardsa convinced and consistent Christian—becamea missionary among his own countrymen,in spite of much opposition and even persecution,it was said, from his own father.

When we came to Liverpool in 1866, and my58husband and sons began their regular life at theCollege, going there early and returning in theevening, I was left many hours every day alone,empty-handed and sorrowful, the thought continuallyreturning, “How sweet the presence of my littledaughter would have been now.” Most people, whohave gone through any such experience, will understandme when I speak of the ebb and flow of sorrow.The wave retires perhaps after the first bitter weeks,and a kind of placid acquiescence follows. It may beonly a natural giving way of the power of prolongedresistance of pain. Then there comes sometimes asecond wave, which has been silently gatheringstrength, holding back, so to speak, in order toadvance again with all its devouring force, thunderingupon the shore. But who can write therationale of sorrow? And who can explain itsmysteries, its apparent inconsistencies and unreasonableness,its weakness and its strength? Isuffered much during the first months in our newhome. Music, art, reading, all failed as resourcesto alleviate or to interest. I became possessed withan irresistible desire to go forth and find some painkeener than my own, to meet with people moreunhappy than myself (for I knew there werethousands of such). I did not exaggerate my owntrial. I only knew that my heart ached night andday, and that the only solace possible would seem tobe to find other hearts which ached night and day,and with more reason than mine. I had no clearidea beyond that, no plan for helping others; mysole wish was to plunge into the heart of somehuman misery, and to say (as I now knew I could)59to afflicted people, “I understand: I too havesuffered.”

It was not difficult to find misery in Liverpool.There was an immense workhouse containing at thattime, it was said, five thousand persons—a little townin itself. The general hospital for paupers includedin it was blessed then by the angelic presence ofa*gnes Jones (whose work of beneficence was recordedafter her death); but the other departments in thegreat building were not so well organised as theycame to be some years later. There were extensivespecial wards, where unhappy girls drifted likeautumn leaves when the winter approached, manyof them to die of consumption, little cared forspiritually; for over this portion of the hospitalAgnes Jones was not the presiding genius. Therewas on the ground floor a Bridewell for women, consistingof huge cellars, bare and unfurnished, withdamp stone floors. These were called the “oaku*msheds,” and to these came voluntarily creaturesdriven by hunger, destitution, or vice, begging for afew nights’ shelter and a piece of bread, in return forwhich they picked their allotted portion of oakum.Others were sent there as prisoners.

I went down to the oakum sheds and beggedadmission. I was taken into an immense gloomyvault filled with women and girls—more than twohundred probably at that time. I sat on the flooramong them and picked oakum. They laughed atme, and told me my fingers were of no use for thatwork, which was true. But while we laughed webecame friends. I proposed that they should learna few verses to say to me on my next visit. I60recollect a tall, dark, handsome girl standing up inour midst, among the damp refuse and lumps oftarred rope, and repeating without a mistake and ina not unmusical voice, clear and ringing, thatwonderful fourteenth chapter of St. John’s Gospel—thewords of Jesus all through, ending with, “PeaceI leave with you. My peace I give unto you. Letnot your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”She had selected it herself, and they listened in perfectsilence, this audience—wretched, draggled, ignorant,criminal some, and wild and defiant others. Thetall, dark-haired girl had prepared the way for me,and I said, “Now let us all kneel, and cry to thatsame Jesus who spoke those words”; and down ontheir knees they fell every one of them, reverently,on that damp stone floor, some saying the wordsafter me, others moaning and weeping. It was astrange sound, that united wail—continuous, pitiful,strong—like a great sigh or murmur of vague desireand hope, issuing from the heart of despair, piercingthe gloom and murky atmosphere of that vaultedroom, and reaching to the heart of God.

But I do not want to make a long story of this.The result of my visits to the hospital and quays andoakum sheds was to draw down upon my head anavalanche of miserable but grateful womanhood.Such a concourse gathered round our home that I hadto stop to take breath, and consider some means ofescape from the dilemma by providing some practicalhelp, moral and material. There were not at thattime many enlightened missions or measures in thetown for dealing with the refuse of society. Therewas the Catholic Refuge of the Good Shepherd, some61way in the country; an old-fashioned ProtestantPenitentiary, rather prison-like in character;another smaller refuge; and, best of all, a Homerecently established by Mrs. Cropper. But it mustnot be supposed that the majority of my oaku*mshed friends were of a character to seek such asylums.Many of them—and especially the Irish Catholics—pridedthemselves on their virtue; and well theymight, considering their miserable surroundings—girlswho for the most part earned a scanty living byselling sand in the streets (for cleaning floors), or therefuse of the markets to the poorest of the population.Usually they were barefooted and bonnetless. TheLancashire women are strong and bold. Thecriminals of the oakum sheds and prison, sent to“do a week” or a month there, had most frequentlybeen convicted of fighting and brawling on the quaysand docks, of theft or drunkenness. There was stuffamong them to make a very powerful brigade ofworkers in any active good cause. But there wereothers—the children of intemperate and criminalparents—who were, humanly speaking, useless, notquite “all there,” poor, limp, fibreless human weeds.These last were the worst of all to deal with. I hadthe help at this time of a widowed sister who wasvisiting Liverpool, and who, in spite of very delicatehealth, threw herself heroically into the effort to helpthis work without a name which came upon us. Wehad a dry cellar in our house and a garret or two, andinto these we crowded as many as possible of themost friendless girls who were anxious to make afresh start. This became inconvenient, and so intime my husband and I ventured to take a house near62our own, trusting to find funds to furnish and fill itwith inmates. This was the “House of Rest,”which continued for many years, and developed,about the time we left Liverpool, into an incurablehospital, supported by the town. It was there that,a little later, women incurably ill were brought fromthe hospitals or their wretched homes, their beds inhospital being naturally wanted for others.

A few months later, encouraged by the helpoffered by a certain number of generous Liverpoolmerchants and other friends, we took a very large andsolid house, with some ground round it, to serve asan industrial home for the healthy and active, thebarefooted sand girls, and other friendless waifs andstrays. We had a good gathering of friends andneighbours at a service which my husband held atthe opening of the industrial home. His “dedicationprayer” on that occasion was very touching, andfull of kindness and heart-yearning towards the poordisinherited beings whom we desired to gather in.This house was very soon filled, and was successfullymanaged by an excellent matron, a mother. Besidesthe usual laundry and other work, we were able to setup a little envelope factory in one of the spaciousrooms. This work called out some skill and nicety,and interested the girls very much. Several tradesmenand firms bought our envelopes at wholesaleprices, and we also supplied some private friendsdisposed to help us. As chaplain, friend andadviser in these two modest institutions, my husbandshowed the same fidelity and constancy which he didin every other seriously accepted or self-imposedduty. He often said that it was a rest and63refreshment to him to visit our poor people in theevening, and more especially on Sunday. In the Houseof Rest were received “incurables” so-called (of whomnot a few recovered). There was a very peacefulatmosphere in that house answering to its name—aspirit of repose, contentment, and even gaiety amongthe young inmates, scarcely clouded even by thefrequent deaths, which came generally as a happyand not unexpected release, and were regarded bythe living as a series of fresh bonds between thefamily in heaven and that on earth.

Drink was the great, the hopeless obstacle whichI found among them. It was on this side that theywould lapse again and again. Though it involvedno change in my own habits, I thought it was best totake the pledge. I joined the Good Templars, whohad many lodges in Liverpool.

Shortly before the creation of these two homes, wehad a visit from my sister, Madame Meuricoffre.She and her husband, with their dear little girl,Josephine, had come from Naples to England, andhad paid a visit to our father in Northumberland.They had, a short time before, lost a beloved child,their little Beatrice, during an outbreak of the cholerain Naples. The surviving little girl seemed to droopafter the death of her companion. She (littleJosephine) took ill on the way from the north, andbefore they reached Liverpool this darling of herparents had gone to join her beloved sister in thepresence of God. The parents came to us in deepsorrow, bringing with them the earthly remains oftheir child.

My sister joined me in my visits to the sick,64criminal, and outcast women of Liverpool. Wevisited the wards of the great hospital together.The strong sympathy of her loving nature quicklywon the hearts of desolate young girls, while shegreatly strengthened me in the hope that we mightbe able to undo some of their heavy burdens.

Among the first who came to us to our own house,to die, was a certain Marion, who seemed to us akind of first-fruits of the harvest, in the gathering inof which we were to be allowed in after years toparticipate. The first time I saw her was in acrowded room. Her face attracted me: notbeautiful in the common acceptation of the word,but having a power greater than beauty; eyes fullof intelligence and penetration; a countenance atonce thoughtful and frank, with at times a wildlyseeking look, as if her whole being cried out, “Whowill show us any good?” She was ill, her lungsfatally attacked. I went up to her, and with nointroduction of myself said, “Will you come withme to my home and live with me? I had a daughteronce.” She replied with a gasp of astonishment,grasping my hand as if she would never let it go again.I brought her home, my husband supported herupstairs, and we laid her on the couch in the prettylittle spare room looking on the garden. She livedwith us, an invalid, three months, and then died.It was difficult to suppress the thought, “If she hadnot been so destroyed, what a brightness andblessing she might have been in the world.”Untaught, unacquainted with the Scriptures till shecame to us, she mastered the New Testament sothoroughly in that brief time that her acute65questions and pregnant remarks were often a subjectof wonder to my husband, who spent a portion ofalmost every evening with her in her room,conversing with and instructing her. Some of theintellectual difficulties which assail thoughtfulstudents occurred to her. I witnessed many a severestruggle in her mind. She would often say, “Iwill ask Mr. Butler about it this evening.” Buther questions were sometimes such as cannot beanswered, except by God Himself to the individualsoul. This she knew, and through many sleeplessnights her murmured prayers were heard by herattendant, “preventing the night watches.” Myhusband said her remarks concerning the nature ofa true faith sometimes strikingly resembled portionsof the writings of a well-known modern philosophicalthinker, which she had never read, for she hadread nothing. I speak of her intellect, but her heartwas yet greater. What capacities for noble love,for the deepest friendship, had been trampled underfoot in that dear soul.

A well-known divine came to visit us, andhearing of our poor invalid, kindly offered to seeand converse with her. My husband and I agreedthat we would say nothing to our friend of Marion’spast life, for we thought that, saintly man thoughhe was, he probably had not faith enough to dojustice to her and to himself in the interview if hehad this knowledge. (There are few men whosefaith comes up to that measure.) When he joinedus again downstairs his face was radiant, and hespoke, not of any teaching or comfort which he mighthave conveyed to her, but of the help and privilege66it was to himself to have held communion during ashort half hour with a dying saint, so young, yet soenlightened, and so near to God.

I recall the day of her death. It was a cold,snowy day in March. In the morning my husbandwent to see her early, before going out to his collegework. She could scarcely speak, but lookingearnestly at him said, as if to reward him for allhis painstaking instructions, and guessing what hewished to know, “Yes, God is with me, sir; I haveperfect peace.” Her long death-struggle lastingtwelve hours, joined with the peace and even joy ofher spirit, was very affecting. Though it wasbitterly cold, she whispered, “Open the windows,for the love of God.” Her long black hair, thrustwildly back, was like the hair of a swimmer, drippingwith water, so heavy were the death-dews. Shebecame blind, and her fine intelligent eyes wanderedever, with an appealing look, to whatever part ofthe room she thought I was in. Towards sunsetshe murmured, “Oh, come quickly, Lord Jesus.”During that long day she continually moved herarms like a swimmer, as if she felt herself sinkingin deep waters. Then her poor little head fellforward, a long sigh escaped her parted lips, and atlast I laid her down flat on her little bed. Myhusband and sons returned from college, and we allstood round her for a few minutes. She hadbecome a household friend. She looked sweet andsolemn then, her head drooping to one side, andwith a worn-out look on the young frail face, buta look, too, of perfect peace.

A few days before her death I telegraphed, at her67request, to her father, who had had no tidings ofhis lost child for five years. He was an extensivefarmer, well to do and honourable, living in abeautiful district in the midland counties. Wewere surprised, on his arrival, to see a very fine-lookingcountry gentleman, as one would say,reminding us, in his noble height and figure anddignified presence, a little of my own father. Hecarried with him a valise and a handsome travellingrug. We took him to her room and retired. Theirinterview was best witnessed by God alone. Aftertwo hours or so I opened the door softly. He waslying on a couch at the opposite side of the roomfrom her in a deep sleep, tired probably more bystrong emotion than by his journey. She raised herfinger for silence, and with the look and action of aguardian angel whispered, “Father is asleep.”

After her death her poor mother came to attendher funeral. I had filled Marion’s coffin with whitecamelias, banking them up all round her. Withher hands crossed on her breast, and dressed as abride for her Lord, she looked quite lovely. I foundthe mother alone, kneeling by the coffin in an agonyof grief and of anger. She said (her body rockingbackward and forward with emotion), “If that mancould but see her now! Can we not send for him?”And she added, “Oh, what a difference there is inEnglish gentlemen’s households! To think thatthis child should have been ruined in one and savedin another!” Yes, it might have been good for“that man” to have been forced to step downfrom his high social position and to look upon herthen, and to have known the abyss from which she68had been drawn, to the verge of which he had ledher when she was but a child of fifteen.

Marion had “prophesied” to me, before she died,of hard days and a sad heart which were in store forme in contending against the evil to which she hadfallen a victim. I recall her words with wonder andcomfort. She would say, “When your soul quailsat the sight of the evil, which will increase yetawhile, dear Mrs. Butler, think of me and takecourage. God has given me to you, that you maynever despair of any.”

Snow lay thickly on the ground when we laid herin her grave in the cemetery. When we came backto the house I was trying to say something comfortingto the mother, when she stopped me and said,“My heart is changed about it all. The bitteranger won’t come back, I think; and what has takenit all away was the sight of Mr. Butler standing bythe grave of my child, and the words he spoke.Oh, madam,” she said, “when I looked at himstanding there in the snow, dressed in his linen robeas white as the snow itself, and with that look onhis face when he looked up to heaven and thankedGod for my daughter now among the blessed, Icould hardly refrain from falling on my knees at hisfeet, for he seemed to me like one of the angels ofGod! I felt happy then, almost proud, for mychild. Oh, madam, I can never tell you what it wasto me to look on your husband’s face then! Myheart was bursting with gratitude to God and to him.”

There were others about the same time whom wetook home, who died in our own house, and were laidin graves side by side in the cemetery. Of one I69have a clear remembrance, a girl of seventeen only,of some natural force of character. Her death wasa prolonged hard battle with pain and with bittermemories, lightened by momentary flashes of fainthope. She struggled hard. We were called to herbedside suddenly one evening. She was dying,but with a strong effort she had raised herself to asitting position. She drew us near to her by theappeal of her earnest eyes, and raising her right handhigh with a strangely solemn gesture, and with alook full of heroic and desperate resolve, she said,“I will fight for my soul through hosts, and hosts,and hosts!” Her eyes, which seemed to be nowlooking far off, athwart the hosts of which she spoke,became dim, and she spoke no more. “Poor bravechild!” I cried to her, “you will find on the othershore One waiting for you who has fought through allthose hosts for you, who will not treat you as manhas treated you.” I cannot explain what she meant.I have never been quite able to understand it; buther words dwelt with us—“through hosts, and hosts,and hosts!” She had been trampled under the feetof men as the mire in the streets, had been hustledabout from prison to the streets, and from thestreets to prison, an orphan, unregarded by any butthe vigilant police. From the first day she came tous we noticed in her, notwithstanding, an admirableself-respect, mixed with the full realisation of hermisery. And that sense of the dignity and worthof the true self in her—the immortal, inalienableself—found expression in that indomitable resolutionof the dying girl:70 “I will fight for my soul throughhosts, and hosts, and hosts!”

In the following winter my father died. On the23rd of January, 1868, we were summoned by a telegraphicmessage from my sister, Mrs. Smyttan, whohad lived with him during the last years of his life.But none of us saw him alive again. The end hadbeen sudden, but very tranquil. His health wasexcellent to the last. On the morning of January23rd, as he was passing from his bedroom to hisstudy, he sat down, feeling faint, and raising hisforefinger as if to enjoin silence, or intent upon avoice calling him away, he died without a struggle,and apparently without pain, in the eighty-thirdyear of his age.

The family group which was gathered in that houseof mourning was incomplete, for many were far away.One of the sisters wrote to the absent ones:

“Two days after our dear father’s death there wassuch a storm of wind for twenty-four hours as Iscarcely remember. The house shook and heaved,and the sky was as dark as if there were an eclipse.The river roared and the windows rattled. We allcowered over the fire, and talked of him and of olddays, trying to free ourselves from the sad, restlessimpression produced by the storm. We heard acrash, and on going upstairs found the window of theroom where he lay blown in, the glass shivered aboutthe floor, and the white sheet which had been thrownover the kingly corpse blown rudely away. Therewas something so irreverent about it, pitiful andweird-like; but he was not disturbed by it—he wasbeyond all storms, in an infinite and everlastingcalm. He looked so grand, and lay in such a majesticpeace. His forehead, so high and broad and smooth,71his soft grey hair smoothed back. I was much struckby the powerful look of his square jaw, and the unionof tenderness and strength in the whole outline of hishead and face. I felt almost triumphant about him;and yet how sorrowful such moments are, even whenone can look back with thankfulness. The sorrow isnot for one’s own loss only; the presence of deathin one so dear brings one for a moment into closerelation with all the sorrows of earth. When Jesuswept at the grave of Lazarus it was not for Lazarusand his sisters only. He saw then and felt all thebereavements which would bow down the hearts ofmen to the end of time.”

The company of voluntary followers to the gravewas a very large one, all on foot. Around the tomb,where he was laid by the side of our dear mother,there stood a large and silent gathering of childrenand grandchildren, friends, servants, tenants andothers. As we passed along the vale of Tyne on ourway back to Lipwood we were much impressed by theoutward results—in the high cultivation and look ofhappy prosperity of the country—of a long life usefullyspent. And this feeling was shared by all thedwellers there, who, equally with ourselves, couldmark in all around them the impress of his mind andhand. But only those who had had the happiness ofhis friendship and confidence could know, with hischildren, how much of strength and sweetnessseemed to be gone away from earth when that greatheart had ceased to beat.

One of the most prominent characteristics of ourfamily life during all these years at Liverpool was72that of our common enjoyment of our summer tours.There were circ*mstances which made our annualexcursions more than the ordinary tours of someholiday-makers. In the first place, many of my ownrelatives were settled in different parts of the Continent,thus giving us a personal connection with thoseplaces. In order to pay a visit to the homes of someof them it was necessary to cross the Alps, while othernear relatives lived in France and Switzerland.

It sometimes happens that the ordinary Englishtraveller knows little of the general life of the peopleamong whom he travels, of the history of the country,its politics, its social condition and prospects. He iscontent to gather to himself enjoyment from thebeauties of Switzerland or the Tyrol, or Italy, whileknowing little of the dwellers in those beautiful lands.A wider and a richer field is open to those who care toseek and explore it. My husband was not contentwithout making himself acquainted, to a considerableextent, with the contemporary history of the countriesthrough which we passed. His aptitude forlanguages aided him in intercourse with people ofdifferent nationalities; so that our family relationshipsabroad, and our friendships with many publicmen, as well as humble dwellers in continentalcountries, gave to our visits there a varied interest.These vacation tours were to us like sunlit mountaintops rising from the cloud-covered plain of ourlaborious life at Liverpool. Moreover, the enthusiasmwhich he had, and which was shared by hissons, for geographical and geological research, togetherwith our modest artistic efforts, added greatlyto the interest of our travels. It was felt to be73unsatisfactory to attempt to draw mountains androcks without knowing something of their geologicalconstruction. During a visit which Mr. Ruskin paidus at Liverpool, he was turning over a portfolio ofdrawings done by my husband, and held in his handsfor some time two or three sketches of the Aiguillestowering above the Mer de Glace, and other rocksand mountain buttresses in the neighbourhood ofChamounix. He said it gave him pleasure to lookat those (he being a keen observer and student ofmountain forms everywhere). “Your outlines ofthese peaks, Mr. Butler,” he said, “are perfectlytrue: they are portraits. Very few people are ableor care to represent the forms so correctly. For themost part artists are more anxious to produce aneffective picture, than to give precisely what they seein nature.”

Our sons inherited their father’s out-door tastes.Our summer tours were therefore a source of thekeenest enjoyment to us all. We saved up ourmoney for them, worked towards them, and lookedforward to them as a real happiness.

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CHAPTER V.
EDUCATION OF WOMEN.

Among the subjects concerning which my husbandadvanced with a quicker and firmer step than thatof the society around him in general, stands that ofthe higher education of women. It may be difficultfor the present generation to realise what anamount of dogged opposition and prejudice thepioneers of this movement had to encounter onlysome twenty-five years ago. We have madesuch rapid strides in the direction of women’seducation, that we almost forget that our ladies’colleges, higher examinations, and the various honoursfor which women compete so gallantly with men, arebut of yesterday. Miss Clough called at our housein Liverpool one day in 1867, to ascertain the stateof mind of the Principal of the Liverpool College inregard to the beautiful schemes, which were even thentaking shape in her fruitful brain for the benefit ofher fellow-women. I think she was heartily glad tofind herself in a house where not a shadow ofprejudice or doubt existed, to be argued down orpatiently borne with until better days. My husbandeven went a little further, I believe, than she didat that time, in his hopes concerning the equalityto be granted in future in the matter of educational75advantages for boys and girls, men and women. Anactive propagandist work was started soon afterby James Stuart, of Trinity College, Cambridge,who made Liverpool his head-quarters during hisfirst experiment in establishing lectures for ladies,which developed into the University ExtensionScheme. It was arranged that the first courseshould embrace four of the most important townsof the North of England, constituting a sort ofcircuit. It seemed desirable that a man ofexperience and weight in the educational worldshould inaugurate this experiment by a preliminaryaddress or lecture, given to mixed audiences, in eachof these four towns. My husband undertook thistask. His first address was given at Sheffield,where he was the guest of Canon Sale, who approvedheartily of the movement. Without unnecessarilyconjuring up spectres of opposition in order todismiss them, he carefully framed his discourse so asto meet the prejudices of which the air, at that time,was full. It was generally imagined that a severerintellectual training than women had hithertoreceived would make them unwomanly, hard,unlovely, pedantic, and disinclined for domesticduties, while the dangers to physical health weredolorously prophesied by medical men and others.In concluding his inaugural address, my husband said:76“A community of women, established purposely toeducate girls and to train teachers, was not known inChristendom till the institution of the Ursulines byAngela dà Brescia, in 1537. So unheard of at thistime was any attempt of women to organise asystematic education for their own sex, that whenFrançoise de Saintange undertook to found such aschool at Dijon she was hooted in the streets, andher father called together four doctors learned inthe laws, ‘pour s’assurer qu’instruire des femmesn’était pas un œuvre du démon.’ Even after hehad given his consent, he was afraid to countenancehis daughter, and Françoise, unprotected and unaided,began her first school in a garret. Twelve yearsafterwards she was carried in triumph through thestreets, with bells ringing and flowers strewed inher path, because she had succeeded. Her work livedand grew because it was right. So take courage,ladies, struggling now at this day for the right tocultivate to their full extent the faculties and giftswhich God has bestowed upon you. You must fightyour own battles still. At all times reforms in thesocial position of women have been brought aboutby efforts of their own, for their own sex,supplemented by men, but always coming in thefirst instance from themselves.”

The visit of Miss Clough to the Butlers, alreadyreferred to, led to the formation at the end of 1867of the North of England Council for promoting theHigher Education for Women, a body representingassociations of school-mistresses in several largenorthern towns. Josephine Butler was President ofthis council from 1867 to 1873, and Miss Clough wasSecretary for the three first strenuous years of itsexistence. The first work of the Council was toorganise lectures for women, which had already beenbegun by Mr. Stuart, to whose genius the inceptionof the University Extension Movement was due. Mr.Stuart’s first course on astronomy was given, in theautumn of 1867, in Liverpool, Manchester, Leeds77and Sheffield, and was attended altogether by fivehundred and fifty women. These lectures werefollowed by other similar courses organised by theCouncil, and the idea rapidly spread. In 1868 Mr.Stuart gave his first lectures to working-men at Crewe.These two independent tributaries, lectures to womenand lectures to working-men, combined into onestream, which grew into the University Extensionsystem first adopted by the University of Cambridgein 1873. The North of England Council was one ofthe bodies which memorialised the University, atthe end of 1871, in favour of the lecture system beingtaken up and put on a permanent basis by theUniversity. Their memorial urged the proposal notonly on behalf of women, but also on behalf ofworking-men, who had alike shown their desirefor higher education by attending in large numbersthe lectures already given.

The Council also interested itself in the questionof examinations for women, and in 1868 presentedthe following memorial to the University of Cambridge,signed by five hundred and fifty teachers, andthree hundred other ladies:

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“We, the undersigned, being either connected withor engaged in the education of girls, desire to bringunder your consideration the great want which isfelt by women of the upper and middle classes,particularly by those engaged in teaching, of higherexaminations, suitable to their own needs. TheLocal Examinations, to which by a Grace of theSenate, passed April, 1865, girls under eighteen havenow for three years been admitted, have proved ofthe greatest advantage in stimulating and steadyingthe work in Girls’ Schools. Students above eighteenare not, however, admissible to these examinations,nor are they of a sufficiently advanced character tomeet the wants of such students, especially of thosewho have adopted, or wish to adopt, teaching as aprofession. We therefore beg that, taking intoconsideration the grave necessities of the case, youwill be pleased, either by extending the powers ofthe Syndicate for conducting the Local Examinations,or in some other way to make provisions for suchexaminations as shall adequately test and attest thehigher education of women.”

Josephine Butler by her personal efforts obtainedmany of the signatures to this memorial, and herselfwent to Cambridge in support of it. Miss Cloughwrote of this expedition that “the charm Mrs.Butler put into all the details she gave, showing thedesire of women for help in educating themselves,made the subject, which might have been consideredtedious, both interesting and attractive, and thusdrew to the cause many friends.”2

To friends in the North.

June, 1868.

One of our friends at Cambridge amused himselfwith counting up the number of gentlemen whotalked privately and kindly to me about it—therewere forty-eight. So you see there is a great deal ofsympathy there. It is not so easy for me to tell youwhat I felt, as what actually happened. I felt thereality of the good that must come from this movement.It would have pleased you, I feel sure, asit pleased me, to see the grave and kindly tone ofthese dons. I was talking to one elderly Professorwith grey hair and a somewhat stiff expression, andI happened to speak of the struggle which the livesof many women of the middle classes is, and of thegratitude we felt when men of weight and realgoodness came forward to help us, and this elderlydon was deeply moved. The tears came into his79eyes, and he could scarcely answer me. He said:“I fear we get selfish here, and forget how much thereis of work and sorrow in the world outside of us.”Professor Maurice came to my room one day andtalked a long time to me. He said at leaving:“If there is anything else which you and your friendsthink Cambridge could do to be of use, I trust you willsuggest it; it does us more good than it does to anyoneelse.” I trust that a time is coming whenbarriers between men and women and one class andanother may give way before the influence of trueChristian charity, and a desire to help and be helped.

The memorial met with a ready response from theUniversity by the establishment in the followingyear of the Examinations for Women, which a fewyears later were called the Higher Local Examinations,and were open to men as well as women.

“These two things—the organisation in thenorthern towns of lectures given, by University men,which led to University Extension, and the establishmentof an examination for women which led to theCambridge lectures, and so to Newnham College—werethe Council’s most striking achievements;but it had a hand in various other important educationalenterprises.”3

For instance the Council worked hard, and withsome success, in endeavouring to induce the EndowedSchools Commissioners to secure that some part ofthe endowments of Public Schools should be devotedto the education of girls.80 “Mrs. Butler made anable as well as a zealous President of the Council,and while she herself took an active part in almosteverything that was undertaken, she also did goodservice in kindling the enthusiasm of others by hereloquence and enthusiasm.”4 Although she retiredfrom the Presidency in 1873 on the ground of ill-health,she attended its last meetings at York in1874, when she read a paper on Economic Science asa part of the Education of Girls. In that year theCouncil was dissolved, having finished its pioneerwork, and feeling that the movement could henceforthbe carried on by other organisations, whichhad by that time come into existence.

In 1868 Josephine Butler published her firstpamphlet, The Education and Employment of Women.Starting with the census figures of 1861, she meetsthe old argument that woman’s sphere is the home,and only the home, by pointing out that the proportionof wives to widows and spinsters over twentywas only about three to two (in 1901 the proportionwas even less), and that over three million womenwere earning or partly earning their living. Thisnumber had risen in 1901 to over four millions.She refers to the miserable wages received by womenworkers, from the teaching profession downwards,due in part to the comparatively low state of educationamong girls, and in part to the restrictions upontheir employment in various directions, both causesbeing ultimately traceable to the fact that “they areunrepresented, and the interests of the unrepresentedalways tend to be overlooked.” Hence she pleadsfor the higher education of women and the removalof all legal and other restrictions upon their employment.She incidentally urges the mixed educationof boys and girls. As against the argument that themore extended employment of women would injuremen, she prophesies, in the words of F. D. Maurice,81“Whenever in trade or in any department of humanactivity restrictions tending to the advantage of oneclass and the injury of others have been removed,there a divine power has been at work counteractingnot only the selfish calculations, but often theapparently sagacious reasonings of their defenders.”Surely this prophecy has been fulfilled, as it appearsfrom the Report of the Poor Law Commissionrecently issued, that, taking a wide outlook of thewhole industrial situation, there has been no tendencyin the past twenty years for women workers todisplace men. (Pp. 322-5.)

In 1869 Josephine Butler edited and wrote anintroduction to a volume of essays on Woman’sWork and Woman’s Culture. The essays were byFrances Power Cobbe, Jessie Boucherett, GeorgeButler, Sophia Jex-Blake, James Stuart, Charles H.Pearson, Herbert N. Mozley, Julia Wedgwood,Elizabeth C. Wolstenholme, and John Boyd-Kinnear.In her introductory essay she lays stresson the fact that any disabilities, from which womensuffer, cause injury and loss to men, no less thanto women themselves. She admits that woman’ssphere is home, but she wishes the home idea to berealised in wider spheres than within the four wallsof a single household. She pleads that to grant thedemands of women for higher education, and forunrestricted liberty to engage in any employment,will tend to the restoration of true home ideals; firstthrough the restored dignity of women, and secondlythrough the opening out and diffusion of the homeinfluence and character into the solution of socialproblems, by the relegation to women of some ofthe more important work of dealing with our vastpopulations. This she illustrates in the followingpassage.

In the present pretty general realisation of thefutility, if not the positive harm, of many formsof private philanthropy, and the often-repeateddeprecation of meddling individuals, who pauperisethe community by their old-fashioned, lady-bountifulway of dispensing alms and patronage, we do not82perhaps quite foresee the reaction which is setting in,with a tendency so strong in the opposite directionthat it brings us into the danger of once more missingthe philosophy of the whole matter. The tendencyat present is to centralisation of rule, to vast combinations,large institutions, and uniformity of system.I have a doubt about any wholesale manipulationof the poor, the criminal, scholars in schools, etc.I believe it to be so far from being founded on aphilosophical view of human nature and of society,that if carried to extremes the last state of our poorwill be worse than the first. For the correction ofthe extreme tendencies of this reaction, I believethat nothing whatever will avail but the largeinfusion of home elements into workhouses, hospitals,schools, orphanages, lunatic asylums, reformatories,and even prisons; and in order to attain this theremust be a setting free of feminine powers andinfluence from the constraint of bad education, andnarrow aims, and listless homes where they are atpresent too often a superfluity. We have hadexperience of what we may call the feminine form ofphilanthropy, the independent individual ministering,of too mediæval a type to suit the present day.It has failed. We are now about to try the masculineform of philanthropy—large and comprehensivemeasures, organisations and systems, planned bymen and sanctioned by Parliament. This also willfail if it so far prevail as to extinguish the truth towhich the other method witnessed in spite of itsexcesses. Why should we not try at last a unionof principles which are equally true? “It is notgood for man to be alone” was a very early83announcement in the history of the world. Neitheris it good for man to work alone in any matterwhatsoever which concerns the welfare of the greathuman family; and the larger the work be which heundertakes, unassisted by her whom God gave tohim for a helpmate, the more signal will be thefailure in the end.

We quote another passage from this essay to showhow here, as always, she founded herself on theappeal to Christ as the highest authority in mattersof principle and of action.

The author of Ecce hom*o has set the example tothose to whom it did not occur to do so for themselves,of venturing straight into the presence of Christ foran answer to every question, and of silencing the voiceof all theologians from St. Paul to this day, untilwe have heard what the Master says. It may bethat God will give grace to some woman in the timeto come to discern more clearly, and to reveal toothers, some truth which theologians have hithertofailed to see in its fulness; for from the intimacyinto which our Divine Master admitted women withHimself it would seem that His communications ofthe deepest nature were not confined to malerecipients; and what took place during His lifeon earth may, through His Holy Spirit, be continuednow. It is instructive to recall the fact that themost stupendous announcement ever made to theworld, the announcement of an event concerningwhich the whole world is divided to this day, andwhich more than all others is bound up with ourhopes of immortality, the resurrection of Christ,84was first made to women. Nor can we wonder,looking back over the ages since then, and seeinghow any truths asserted by women, not at oncepalpable to the outward sense or provable by logic,have been accounted as idle tales, that of the firstapostles it should have been said, “The words of thewomen seemed unto them as idle tales,” when theydeclared that Christ was risen. Among the greattypical acts of Christ, which were evidently andintentionally for the announcement of a principlefor the guidance of society, none were more markedlyso than His acts towards women; and I appeal tothe open Book, and to the intelligence of everycandid student of Gospel history, for the justificationof my assertion that in all important instances ofHis dealings with women His dismissal of each casewas accompanied by a distinct act of Liberation.In one case He emancipated a woman from legalthraldom. His act no doubt appeared to those whowitnessed it as that of a dangerous leveller, for whileHe granted to the woman a completeness of freedomfrom the tyranny of law which must have electrifiedthe bystanders, He imposed upon the men present,and upon all men by implication, the higher obligationwhich they had made a miserable attempt toenforce upon one half of society only, and the breachof which their cruel laws visited with terrible severityon women alone. They all went out convicted byconscience, while the woman alone remained free;but, be it observed, free in a double sense—free alikefrom the inward moral slavery, and from the harsh,humanly-imposed judgment. The emancipationgranted to another in the matter of hereditary85disabilities was signal. In a moment He struckoff chains which had been riveted by the traditionsof centuries, and raised her from the position,accepted even by herself, of a “Gentile dog” to onehigher than the highest of the commonwealth ofIsrael. In another case His “Go in peace,” andwords of tender and respectful commendation to onewho had been exiled from society, contrastedsolemnly with His rebuke to His self-satisfied host,who, while firmly holding his place among thehonoured of this world, marvelled that Christshould not seem to be aware what manner of womanit was who touched Him. To another, before evershe had spoken a word, He cried, “Woman, thou artloosed!” and to objectors He replied, “Ought notthis woman, being a daughter of Abraham, whomSatan hath bound lo these eighteen years, be loosedfrom this bond on the Sabbath day?” Thetyrannies and infirmities from which He freed thesepersons severally were various and manifold, andthis does but increase the significance of His wholeproceeding towards them. Search throughout theGospel history, and observe His conduct in regard towomen, and it will be found that the word liberationexpresses, above all others, the act which changedthe whole life and character and position of the womendealt with, and which ought to have changed thecharacter of men’s treatment of women from thattime forward.

While in His example of submission to parents,of filial duty and affection, in His inculcation ofthe sacredness of marriage, and of the duty ofobedience to laws which ought to be obeyed, His86righteousness far exceeded the righteousness of thePharisees of His own or of the present day, it seemsto me impossible for anyone candidly to studyChrist’s whole life and words without seeing that theprinciple of the perfect equality of all human beingswas announced by Him as the basis of social philosophy.To some extent this has been practicallyacknowledged in the relations of men to men; onlyin one case has it been consistently ignored, and thatis in the case of that half of the human race in regardto which His doctrine of equality was more markedlyenforced than in any other. It is no wonder thatthere should be some women whose love for thisSaviour exceeds the love which it is possible for anyman to feel for Him, and that, retiring from theencounter with prejudices which are apt to lurk evenin the minds of the most just and most generousof men, they should be driven to cast themselvesin a great solitude of heart before Him, for He onlyis just, He only is holy, He only is infinitely tender.

In the same year, 1869, Josephine Butler publishedthe Memoir of John Grey of Dilston, a most interestingbiography of a good man, who faithfully served hisnative county throughout his life, and took a keeninterest in all the stirring political events of the firsthalf of the last century. An Italian translation ofthis Memoir was published in Florence two yearslater.

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CHAPTER VI.
WOMEN’S REVOLT.

We now come to the period when Josephine Butlerbegan the great work of her life, the crusade againstthe State regulation of vice. This system had itsrise in France, being brought into operation in Parisby Napoleon on the eve of the establishment of theFrench Empire in 1802. Other continental countriesfollowed the example of France, and several attemptswere made to introduce the system into England,but without success until 1864, when a temporaryAct was passed “for the prevention of contagiousdiseases at certain naval and military stations.”This Act was renewed in 1866, and was further extended(to eighteen towns) in 1869. In othercountries the system was “suffered to crouch awayin the mysterious recesses of irresponsible policeregulations.” England was the only country whichhad “had the courage or the audacity to launch thesystem in all its essential details in the form apublic statute.”5 This, which at first seemed atriumph for regulationists, proved the very reverse,since the publicity thus given to the matter was thestarting-point of a fierce opposition begun in England,and afterwards spreading to the Continent, until itundermined the very foundations of the system. Itis not indeed yet destroyed in continental countries, forit is hard to pull down structures which have stoodfirm for a century, but it is everywhere discredited;88and this has come about chiefly through the heroiclabours of Josephine Butler and her fellow-workers.In one of her early speeches she tells of her first callto this work.

I first became acquainted with this system as itexisted in Paris. I was one of those persons—theywere few, I believe—who read that very brief debatein the House of Commons in 1866, when Mr. Henleyand Mr. Ayrton alone, but clearly and boldly,entered their protest. It was in that year that theknowledge first broke upon me that this system,which I had so long regarded with horror, had actuallyfound a footing in our England. It seemed to meas if a dark cloud were hanging on the horizon,threatening our land. The depression which tookpossession of my mind was overwhelming. A fewdays ago I found a record of those days in an oldmanuscript book long laid aside. In turning overits leaves I found a note of that debate in the House,the date, and a written expression, which I had sinceforgotten, of a presentiment which at that timefilled my mind, that in some way or other I shouldbe called to meet this evil thing face to face—atrembling presentiment, which I could not escapefrom, that, do what I would, I myself must enterinto this cloud. I find there recorded also a briefprayer, beseeching that if I must descend intodarkness, that divine hand, whose touch is healthand strength, would hold mine fast in the darkness.I can recollect going out into the garden, hopingthat the sight of the flowers and blue sky mightbanish the mental pain; but it clung too fast for atime for any outward impression to remove it, and89I envied the sparrows upon the garden walk becausethey had not minds and souls capable of tormentlike mine. But now, when I look back, I see thatthe prayer has been heard, the divine hand hasheld mine, often when I knew it not. And, friends,God can give more than power to bear the pain;there is a positive joy in His service, and in anywarfare in which He, who conquered sin and deathand hell, goes before us, and is our re reward.

Before the Act of 1869 was passed, Daniel Cooper,Secretary of the Rescue Society, aided by a fewfriends, took active steps to protest against theselaws; but, as he afterwards wrote, he “felt analmost utter despair in seeing that, after puttingforth our pamphlet and writing thousands of lettersimploring our legislators, clergy, principal publicmen and philanthropists to look into the question,such a stoical indifference remained. We felt, onhearing of your Association, that Providence had wellchosen the means for the defeat of these wicked Acts.The ladies of England will save the country from thisfearful curse, for I fully believe that through themit has even now had its death-blow.” Dr. Worth andDr. Bell Taylor of Nottingham also raised their voiceagainst the system early in 1869, and they, with theRev. Dr. Hooppell and Francis Newman, took part inthe first public demonstration against the Act, on theoccasion of the Social Science Congress meeting atBristol in October, 1869, when the National Anti-ContagiousDiseases Acts Association was formed.

The appeal to take up this cause reached me firstfrom a group of medical men, who (all honour tothem) had for some time been making strenuousefforts to prevent the introduction in our land ofthe principle of regulation by the State of the social90evil. The experience gained during their effortshad convinced them that in order to be successfulthey must summon to their aid forces far beyond thearguments, strong as these were, based on physiological,scientific grounds. They recognised thatthe persons most insulted by the Napoleonic systemwith which our legislators of that day had becomeenamoured, being women, these women must findrepresentatives of their own sex to protest againstand to claim a practical repentance from the Parliamentand Government which had flung this insult intheir face.

It was on landing at Dover from our delightfulsummer tour in 1869, that we first learned that asmall clique in Parliament had been too successfullybusy over this work of darkness during the hotAugust days, or rather nights, in a thin House, inwhich most of those present were but vaguelycognisant of the meaning and purpose of the proposedconstitutional change.

During the three months which followed thereceipt of this communication I was very unhappy.I can only give a very imperfect impression of thesufferings of that time. The toils and conflicts ofthe years that followed were light in comparisonwith the anguish of that first plunge into the fullrealisation of the villainy there is in the world, andthe dread of being called to oppose it. Like Jonah,when he was charged by God with a commissionwhich he could not endure to contemplate, “I fledfrom the face of the Lord.” I worked hard at otherthings—good works, as I thought—with a kind ofhalf-conscious hope that God would accept that91work, and not require me to go further, and run myheart against the naked sword which seemed to beheld out. But the hand of the Lord was upon me:night and day the pressure increased. From an oldmanuscript book in which I sometimes wrote I quotethe following:—

September, 1869.—“Now is your hour, and thepower of darkness.” O Christ, if Thy Spirit faintedin that hour, how can mine sustain it? It is nowmany weeks since I knew that Parliament hadsanctioned this great wickedness, and I have not yetput on my armour, nor am I yet ready. Nothing sowears me out, body and soul, as anger, fruitlessanger; and this thing fills me with such an anger, andeven hatred, that I fear to face it. The thought ofthis atrocity kills charity and hinders my prayers.But there is surely a way of being angry without sin.I pray Thee, O God, to give me a deep, well-governed,and lifelong hatred of all such injustice, tyranny andcruelty; and at the same time give me that divinecompassion which is willing to live and suffer longfor love to souls, or to fling itself into the breachand die at once. This is perhaps after all thevery work, the very mission, I longed for yearsago, and saw coming, afar off, like a bright star.But seen near, as it approaches, it is so dreadful, sodifficult, so disgusting, that I tremble to look at it;and it is hard to see and know whether or not Godis indeed calling me concerning it. If doubt weregone, and I felt sure He means me to rise in revoltand rebellion (for that it must be) against men, evenagainst our rulers, then I would do it with zeal,however repulsive to others may seem the task.

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Appeals continued to pour in. I read all that wassent to me, and I vividly recalled all that I hadlearned before of this fatal system and its corruptinginfluence in continental cities—the madness anddespair into which it drives the most despised ofsociety, who are yet God’s redeemed ones, and theblindness and hardness of heart which it begets in allwho approach it in its practical administration, orin any way except in the way of uncompromisinghostility. And the call seemed to come ever moreclearly.

So far I had endured in silence, I could not bearthe thought of making my dear companion a sharerof the pain; yet I saw that we must needs be unitedin this as in everything else. I had tried to arrangeto suffer alone, but I could not act alone, if Godshould indeed call me to action. It seemed to mecruel to have to tell him of the call, and to say tohim that I must try and stand in the breach. Myheart was shaken by the foreshadowing of whatI knew he would suffer. I went to him one eveningwhen he was alone, all the household having retiredto rest. I recollect the painful thoughts that seemedto throng that passage from my room to his study.I hesitated, and leaned my cheek against his closeddoor; and as I leaned I prayed. Then I went in,and gave him something I had written, and left him.I did not see him till the next day. He looked paleand troubled, and for some days was silent. Butby and by we spoke together about it freely, and(I do not clearly recollect how or when) we agreedtogether that we must move in the matter, and thatan appeal must be made to the people. (Already93many members of both Houses of Parliament,bishops and responsible officials had been appealedto, but so far in vain.) I spoke to my husband thenof all that had passed in my mind, and said, “I feelas if I must go out into the streets and cry aloud, ormy heart will break.” And that good and nobleman, foreseeing what it meant for me and for himself,spoke not one word to suggest difficulty or dangeror impropriety in any action which I might be calledto take. He did not pause to ask, “What will theworld say?” or “Is this suitable work for a woman?”He had pondered the matter, and looking straight, aswas his wont, he saw only a great wrong, and a deepdesire to redress that wrong—a duty to be fulfilled infidelity to that impulse, and in the cause of thevictims of the wrong; and above all he saw God,who is of “purer eyes than to behold iniquity,” andwhose call (whatever it be) it is man’s highest honourto obey; and his whole attitude in response to mywords cited above expressed, “Go! and God bewith you.”

I went forth, but not exactly into the streets, tocry aloud. I took the train to the nearest largestation—Crewe—where there is a great manufactoryof locomotives and a mass of workmen. I scarcelyknew what I should say, and knew not at all whatI should meet with. A friend acquainted with theworkmen led me after work hours to their popularhall, and when I had delivered my message, a smallgroup of leaders among the men bade me thricewelcome in the name of all there. They surprisedme by saying,94 “We understand you perfectly.We in this group served an apprenticeship in Paris,and we have seen and know for ourselves the truthof what you say. We have said to each other thatit would be the death-knell of the moral life ofEngland were she to copy France in this matter.”

From Crewe I went to Leeds, York, Sunderlandand Newcastle-on-Tyne, and then returned home.The response to our appeal from the working-classes,and from the humbler middle class in the northernand midland counties and in Scotland, exceededour utmost expectations. In less than three weeksafter this first little propagandist effort, the working-menof Yorkshire, recognised leaders in political andsocial movements, had organised mass meetings,and agreed on a programme of action, to express theadhesion of the working-classes of the north to thecause advocated.

Meanwhile the Ladies’ National Association for therepeal of the Contagious Diseases Acts had beenformed towards the end of 1869, and on the last day ofthat year their solemn protest appeared in the DailyNews. This protest is here given in full, because fromit can be sufficiently gathered the nature and scope ofthe Contagious Diseases Acts, and also because itsums up the objections which were then and haveever since been raised by those who have strenuouslyopposed the regulation of vice involved in thoseActs, and in the similar systems in operation in othercountries; objections based upon the two fundamentalprinciples of an equal moral standard for menand women, and of the equal treatment of men andwomen by the law of the land.

“We, the undersigned, enter our solemn protestagainst these Acts. (1) Because, involving as theydo such a momentous change in the legal safeguardsh*therto enjoyed by women in common with men,95they have been passed not only without the knowledgeof the country, but unknown in a great measureto Parliament itself; and we hold that neither theRepresentatives of the People nor the Press fulfil theduties which are expected of them, when they allowsuch legislation to take place without the fullestdiscussion. (2) Because, so far as women areconcerned, they remove every guarantee of personalsecurity which the law has established and heldsacred, and put their reputation, their freedom, andtheir persons absolutely in the power of the police.(3) Because the law is bound, in any country professingto give civil liberty to its subjects, to defineclearly an offence which it punishes. (4) Because itis unjust to punish the sex who are the victims of avice, and leave unpunished the sex who are the maincause both of the vice and its dreaded consequences;and we consider that liability to arrest, forcedmedical treatment, and (where this is resisted) imprisonmentwith hard labour, to which these Actssubject women, are punishments of the most degradingkind. (5) Because by such a system the pathof evil is made more easy to our sons, and to the wholeof the youth of England, inasmuch as a moral restraintis withdrawn the moment the State recognises,and provides convenience for, the practice of a vicewhich it thereby declares to be necessary and venial.(6) Because these measures are cruel to the womenwho come under their action—violating the feelingsof those whose sense of shame is not wholly lost, andfurther brutalising even the most abandoned. (7)Because the disease which these Acts seek to removehas never been removed by any such legislation.The advocates of the system have utterly failed toshow, by statistics or otherwise, that these regulationshave in any case, after several years’ trial, and whenapplied to one sex only, diminished disease, reclaimedthe fallen, or improved the general morality of thecountry. We have on the contrary the strongest96evidence to show that in Paris and other continentalcities, where women have long been outraged by thissystem, the public health and morals are worse thanat home. (8) Because the conditions of this diseasein the first instance are moral not physical. Themoral evil, through which the disease makes its way,separates the case entirely from that of the plague, orrather scourges, which have been placed under policecontrol or sanitary care. We hold that we are bound,before rushing into experiments of legalising a revoltingvice, to try to deal with the causes of the evil,and we dare to believe, that with wiser teaching andmore capable legislation, those causes would not bebeyond control.”

Over one hundred and twenty names were attachedto the Protest when it first appeared, but the numbervery soon reached two thousand, including those ofJosephine Butler, Harriet Martineau, FlorenceNightingale, Mary Carpenter, Mary Priestman,Agnes McLaren, Ursula Bright, Margaret Lucas, allthe most prominent women in the Society of Friends,and many others well known in the literary andphilanthropic world. A friendly Member of Parliamentwrote:“Your manifesto has shaken us verybadly in the House of Commons; a leading man inthe House remarked to me, ‘We know how to manageany other opposition in the House or in the country,but this is very awkward for us—this revolt of thewomen. It is quite a new thing; what are we to dowith such an opposition as this?’”

Since some have supposed that the opponents of theActs objected to any measures for the diminution ofthe special diseases in question—because forsooth!that would involve an interference with God’s methodof punishing sin—it may be well to point out thatJosephine Butler took a very different line in her firstpamphlet on the subject, An Appeal to the Peopleof England, by “an English Mother,” publishedearly in 1870. In this she first goes over the whole97ground of objections to the arbitrary and compulsorycharacter of the Acts in a masterly and movingargument; and then proceeds to plead earnestly fora better and humaner way of dealing with the matter,and in the forefront of her proposals she places theprovision of the most ample free hospital accommodation,worked on an absolutely voluntary basis, andas far as possible by woman doctors; and she arguesfrom experience that this would be more likely, thanany compulsory system, to lead to a decrease ofdisease, while at the same time affording more hopeof moral influences prevailing, and leading to reformedlives, as well as cured bodies.

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CHAPTER VII.
COLCHESTER ELECTION.

Among our first and best helpers in our own townwas my cousin, Charles Birrell, a Baptist minister,who had a church in Liverpool. There existed astrong friendship between him and my husband.Mr. Birrell was a gifted man, of a dignified presence,and a beautiful countenance; he was refined andcultivated, and was eloquent in speech. He waselected in 1871 to be President of the BaptistUnion, in which he pleaded our cause. He had beenill, but came to our meeting at Liverpool. Early in1870 I find in my book of scanty records—writtenat the time for my own use alone—the following:—

Thank God, all doubt is gone! I can neverforget Charles Birrell’s prophetic words at our meetingyesterday concerning the future of this work.He rose from his sick bed to speak them, and stoodthere, a witness for God, pale and ill, but with a holyjoy in his whole countenance, seeing God rather thanthe people around him, and sending us forth to ourwork with confidence. Then my husband’s benediction!The words of those two—their prayers,their counsels—must never be forgotten. God sentthem to us to dispel all lingering doubts or hesitation—kind,pure-hearted, unworldly men, messengers ofhope and assurance! And now it is revolt and99rebellion, a consecrated rebellion against those inauthority who have established this “accursed thing”among us. We are rebels for God’s holy laws.“What have I to do with peace” any more? It isnow war to the knife. In a battle of flesh and bloodmercy may intervene and life may be spared; butprinciples know not the name of mercy. In the broadlight of day, and under a thousand eyes, we now takeup our position. We declare on whose side we fight;we make no compromise; and we are ready to meetall the powers of earth and hell combined.

She addressed many meetings this year besidesthose mentioned in the last chapter, travelling for thepurpose over 3700 miles before the middle of June;and when the North of England Council held itsmeetings in that month she expressed a wish toresign the Presidency of that body, in order toreserve her strength and energies for her new work(her resignation however did not take effect, asstated on a previous page, until three years later).Her wish to resign is explained in the followingspeech.

I proposed at our meeting yesterday to resign theoffice of President of this Council, as soon as it may beconvenient to the Council to allow me to do so. It isnot because I am not deeply interested in the causewhich this Council represents. I may say I am moredeeply interested in it than ever, for I see in theeducation of women one of the most ready andnecessary means of freeing poorer women from theawful slavery of which I have seen so much lately.Nor do I undervalue the higher culture of the individualas a means towards the attainment of the100highest personal happiness. The strangely providentialguidance of all our schemes has lately beendeeply impressed on my mind. We started oureducational schemes, I believe, in an honest andhumble spirit, and they appeared to us the readiestpath towards aiding our fellow-women—the distressed,the needy, and the wasted; and I believeour labour has not been in vain. But in this, as in allour work on earth, we needed further enlighteningand teaching. Looking back on my own experienceof the past year, it appears to me as if God in Hisgoodness had said to me, “I approve your motiveand your work; but you are trying to lay on the topstonewhile there is an earthquake shaking yourfoundations. You must first descend to the lowestdepths before you can safely build up.” And thenHe showed us a plague spot. He showed us adeadly poison working through the wholesale,systematic, and now legalised, degradation of women.He showed us the ready elements for a speedy overthrowof society, which the educated would not beable to stem. Not that our work in the cause ofeducation has in any sense been a failure—far fromit; but we need a still larger infusion into these nobleschemes for educating the masses of the spirit of self-sacrifice,even of martyrdom. We need to have ourhearts still more deeply penetrated with pity, and tobe more resolutely bent on making all our practicalefforts tend to the revival of justice, and of a pureand equal moral standard and equal laws. Whiletherefore I continue to regard the cause of educationas a most sacred cause, I come to the present meetingwith a sad heart; and I only propose to relinquish101the office I now hold because I feel that God hascalled me to a more painful one. All members havenot the same office; all are not called to descend tothe depths of woe, and to cast in their lot amongwretched slave-gangs, in order to help the slaves tocarry the weight of their chains, if not to breakthem away. This work, I think, is mine; but thereis other work not less holy, which aims not lessdirectly at a future emancipation. But while I feelall the greater dependence on, and deeper gratitude, toyou my fellow-workers in this Council and others,for the work you are doing, and for the work you willdo, in the cause of humanity, I am obliged to confessto you that, for my own part, I fear I may not infuture be able to give the needful time to this work,nor to bring to it the vigour and spirit which it demandsand deserves. I wish to leave this work inabler and freer hands. It has my deepest sympathy.It points perhaps to the most important of all themeans by which we hope, against hope, to undo theheavy burdens, and let the oppressed go free, andinaugurate a purer and sounder national life. Tokeep pace however with this portion of the greatwork, one requires to have the head and hearttolerably free, and that cannot be the case with onewho is called to deal with the most miserable, to walkside by side, hand in hand, with the outcast, thevictim of our social sins, whose name one scarcelydares to name in refined society. I have great hope,I am full of hope for the education cause, and for theanti-slavery cause, in which we are engaged. Neverthelessone’s very soul grows faint before the factsof 1870, and though that faintness of soul may102complete one’s fitness to be a fellow-sufferer with theslave, it does not increase one’s fitness for a workwhich requires intellectual energy.

The National Association, which was daily increasingin vitality and in boldness of operation,effectually prevented the further extension of thesystem we opposed, and by means of successfulcontests at by-elections—pre-eminently that ofColchester in October-November, 1870, where theGovernment candidate, Sir Henry Storks, wasdefeated on this one question by over 400 votes—forcedthe Government to look seriously into thematter. I give some prominence to this hotly-contestedelection at Colchester, as it proved to besomewhat of a turning-point in the history of ourcrusade. A public meeting had been arranged for inthe theatre. I was with our friends previous to thismeeting in a room in a hotel. Already we heardsigns of the mob gathering to oppose us. Thedangerous portion of this mob was headed and led onby a band of keepers of houses of prostitution inColchester, who had sworn that we should be defeatedand driven from the town. On this occasion thegentlemen who were preparing to go to the meetingleft with me all their valuables, watches, &c. Iremained alone during the evening. The mob wereby this time collected in force in the streets. Theirdeep-throated yells and oaths, and the horrible wordsspoken by them, sounded sadly in my ears. I feltmore than anything pity for these misguided people.It must be observed that these were not of the classof honest working people, but chiefly a number of103hired roughs and persons directly interested in themaintenance of the vilest of human institutions.The master of the hotel came in, and said in a whisper,“I must turn down the lights; and will you, madam,consent to go to an attic which I have, a little apartfrom the house, and remain there until the mob isquieter, in order that I may tell them truly that youare not in the house?” I consented to this for hissake. His words were emphasised at the momentby the crashing in of the window near which I sat,and the noise of heavy stones hurled along the floor,the blows from which I managed to evade. Ourfriends returned in about an hour, very pitiful objects,covered with mud, flour, and other more unpleasantthings, their clothes torn, but their courage not in theleast diminished. Mr. James Stuart, who had comepurposely during the intervals of his duties at Cambridgeto lend his aid in the conflict, had beenroughly handled. Chairs and benches had beenflung at him and Dr. Baxter Langley; and a gooddeal of lint and bandages was quickly in requisition;but the wounds were not severe.

I should have prefaced my recollections of thiselection conflict by saying that on our first arrival inColchester we went, as was our wont, straight to thehouse of a Quaker family. Mrs. Marriage, a well-knownmember of the Society of Friends, receivedus with the utmost cordiality and self-possession.At her suggestion we began our campaign with aseries of devotional meetings, gathering togetherchiefly women in groups, to ask of God that theapproaching events might be over-ruled for good,and might open the eyes of our Government to the104vital nature of the cause for which we were incurringso much obloquy. Among the women who helpedus most bravely were Mrs. King and Mrs. Hampson;there were also many others.

I may be excused, perhaps, for mentioning anamusing incident of the election. I was walkingdown a by-street one evening after we had heldseveral meetings with wives of electors, when Imet an immense workman, a stalwart man, trudgingalong to his home after work hours. By his sidetrotted his wife, a fragile woman, but with a fiercedetermination on her small thin face; and I heardher say, “Now you know all about it; if you votefor that man Storks, Tom, I’ll kill ye!” Tomseemed to think that there was some danger of herthreat being put in execution. This incident didnot represent exactly the kind of influence which wehad entreated the working women to use with theirhusbands who had votes, but I confess it cheeredme not a little.

To her sons.

Colchester, Nov., 1870.

I have tried several hotels; each one rejects meafter another. At last I came to a respectableTory hotel, not giving my name. I had gone to bedvery tired, and was dropping asleep, when I heardsome excitement in the street, and a rap at mydoor. It was the master of the hotel. He said,“I am sorry, madam, I have a very unpleasantannouncement to make.”“Say on,” I replied. Hesaid,105 “I find you are Mrs. Josephine Butler, and themob outside have found out that you are here, andhave threatened to set fire to the house unless I sendyou out at once.” I said, “I will go immediately.But how is it that you get rid of me when you knowthat though I am a Liberal I am practically workinginto the hands of Colonel Learmont, the Conservativecandidate?” He replied, “I would most gladlykeep you, madam; undoubtedly your cause is agood one, but there is a party so much incensedagainst you that my house is not safe while you arein it.” He saw that I was very tired, and I thinkhis heart was touched. He said, “I will get youquietly out under another name, and will find somelittle lodging for you.” I packed up my things, andhe sent a servant with me down a little by-streetto a small private house of a working-man and hiswife. Next day I went to the C—— Inn, thehead-quarters of our party. It was filled withgentlemen, in an atmosphere of stormy canvassing.The master of the inn whispered to me, “Do not letyour friends call you by your name in the streets.”A hurried consultation was held as to whether ourparty should attempt to hold other public meetingsor not. It seemed uncertain whether we should geta hearing, and it was doubtful, if I personallywould be allowed by the mob to reach the hallwhere we had planned to hold a women’s meeting.Some of the older men said, “Do not attempt it,Mrs. Butler; it is a grave risk.” For a moment acowardly feeling came over me as I thought of youall at home; then it suddenly came to me that nowwas just the time to trust in God, and claim Hisloving care; and I want to tell you, my darlings,how He helped me, and what the message was which106He sent to me at that moment. I should like younever to forget it, for it is in such times of trial thatwe feel Him to be in the midst of us—a livingPresence—and that we prove the truth of Hispromises. As I prayed to Him in my heart, thesewords came pouring into my soul as if spoken bysome heavenly voice: “I will say of the Lord, Heis my refuge and my fortress: my God; in Himwill I trust. Surely He shall deliver thee from thesnare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.He shall cover thee with His feathers, and underHis wings shalt thou trust: His truth shall bethy shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraidfor the terror by night; nor for the arrow thatflieth by day; nor for the pestilence that walkethin darkness; nor for the destruction that wastethat noonday. A thousand shall fall at thy side,and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shallnot come nigh thee. Because thou hast made theLord, which is my refuge, thy habitation; thereshall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plaguecome nigh thy dwelling. For He shall give Hisangels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thyways.” (Psalm xci.) Are they not beautiful words?I felt no more fear, and strong in the strength ofthese words I went out into the dark street withour friends.

The London Committee had commissioned thetwo Mr. Mallesons to come down to help us. I likethem much, they are so quiet and firm. Someonehad also sent us from London twenty-four strong menof the sandwich class as a body-guard. I did not caremuch about this “arm of flesh.” It was thought107better that these men should not keep together orbe seen, so they were posted about in the crowd nearthe door of the hall. Apparently they were yellingwith the regulationist party, but ready to comeforward for us at a given signal. The twoMr. Mallesons managed cleverly, just as we arrived,to mislead the crowd into fancying that one ofthemselves was Dr. Langley, thus directing all theirviolence of language and gestures against themselves.Meanwhile Mrs. Hampson and I slipped into thehall in the guise of some of the humbler womengoing to the meeting. I had no bonnet or gloves,only an old shawl over my head, and looked quite apoor woman. We passed safely through crowdedlines of scoundrel faces and clenched fists, and wereunrecognised. It was a solemn meeting. Thewomen listened most attentively while we spoketo them. Every now and then a movement ofhorror went through the room when the threats andgroans outside became very bad. At the close ofthe meeting some friend said to me in a low voice,“Your best plan is to go quietly out by a back windowwhich is not high from the ground, while the mobis waiting for you at the front.” The Mallesons andtwo friendly constables managed admirably. Theymade the mob believe I was always coming, thoughI never came. Mrs. Hampson and I then walkedoff at a deliberate pace from the back of the hall,down a narrow, quiet, star-lit street. About thirtyor forty kind, sympathising women followed us,but had the tact to disperse quickly, leaving us alone.Neither of us knew the town, and we emerged againupon a main street, where the angry cries of the mob108seemed again very near. I could not walk anyfurther, being very tired, and asked Mrs. Hampsonto leave me, and try to find a cab. She pushed meinto a dark, unused warehouse, filled with emptysoda-water bottles and broken glass, and closedthe gates of it. I stood there in the darkness andalone, hearing some of the violent men trampingpast, never guessing that I was so near. Presentlyone of the gates opened slightly, and I could justsee in the dim light the poorly-clad, slight figureof a forlorn woman of the city. She pushed her wayin, and said in a low voice, “Are you the lady themob are after? Oh, what a shame to treat a ladyso! I was not at the meeting, but I heard of you,and have been watching you.” The kindness ofthis poor miserable woman cheered me, and was astriking contrast to the conduct of the roughs.Mrs. Hampson returned saying, “There is not acab to be seen in the streets.” So we walked onagain. We took refuge at last in a cheerfullylighted grocer’s shop, where a very kind, stoutgrocer, whose name we knew—a Methodist—welcomedus, and seemed ready to give his life forme. He installed me amongst his bacon, soap andcandles, having sent for a cab; and rubbing hishands, he said, “Well, this is a capital thing; hereyou are, safe and sound!” We overheard womengoing past in groups, who had been at the meeting,and their conversation was mostly of the followingdescription: “Ah, she’s right; depend upon it,she’s right. Well, what a thing! Well, to be sure!I’m sure I ’ll vote for her whenever I have a vote!”I have now got to my lodgings in the working-ma109n’shouse, which are very small, but clean. I hopeto be with you on Saturday. What a blessedSunday it will be in my quiet home.

My husband had personal friends in the Government,and on most questions he sympathised withtheir policy; it was the more painful therefore tohave to maintain a prominent position personallyin the perpetual attack and protest on this question.He was often reminded by cautious friends of thevery distant prospect of any possible retirementfrom school work which he must now contemplate,so far as that retirement (or promotion of any kind)depended on the goodwill of those then in power.He perfectly understood this from the first, and hisexperience for many years from this time was thatof an ever receding prospect in that direction. Hecontinued to speak and write for the just causewhenever opportunity presented itself, patientlywearing his harness as a laborious schoolmaster fortwelve long years after this date. Though it wasa trial to him to be at variance in any way withpersonal friends or public men whom he regardedwith esteem, yet it was not possible for him to setmotives of policy or his own private interests abovefidelity to a cause and a principle which he consideredvital.

In March, 1871, I was called to give evidencebefore the Royal Commission which had beenappointed. I was not fully aware until recently,when looking over his letters, how his tender solicitudefor me had followed me in all my endeavours,in every varying circ*mstance. His duties at the110Liverpool College forbade him accompanying meto London on this occasion; and even if this hadnot been the case, he would not have been allowedto remain with me during the examination in theHouse of Lords. He had, unknown to me, writtento the Chairman of the Commission, Mr. Massey,commending me to his kindly consideration. Forit was a formidable ordeal, being, as I was, the onlywoman present before a large and august assemblyof peers, bishops, members of Parliament, representativesof the military and naval services, doctors,and others; my questioners being in a large majorityhostile, and the subject serious and difficult. Onthe morning before I was called I received a numberof letters, addresses of sympathy, and notices ofunited prayer for my support from associations ofworking-men in Edinburgh, Glasgow, Newcastle,Leeds, Birmingham, and many other towns.

Several of these letters from working-men werepublished under the title of Vox Populi.

To her husband.

March, 1871.

It is over. It was even a severer ordeal thanI expected. It was distressing to me, owing to thehard, harsh view which some of these men take ofpoor women, and of the lives of the poor generally.They had in their hands and on the table everythingI have ever written on the subject, and reports ofall my addresses, marked and turned down; andsome of the Commissioners had carefully selectedbits which they thought would damage me in111examination. Frederick Maurice was not present,I am sorry to say; but Mr. Rylands, Mr. Mundella,and above all Sir Walter James, I felt, were myfriends. The rest were certainly not so. To comparea very small person with a great one, I felt rather likePaul before Nero, very weak and lonely. But therewas One who stood by me. I almost felt as if Iheard Christ’s voice bidding me not to fear. Ihanded to the Chairman a large packet of the lettersand resolutions from working-men. He said, “Wemay as well see them; for no doubt that class takessome little interest in the question.” I should thinkso! Let them wait till election times, and they willsee! One of the Commissioners asked, “Are thesebonâ-fide working-men?” I replied, “Yes, andwell-known men. There is more virtue in thecountry than you gentlemen in high life imagine.”He then asked, “If these laws were put in operationin the north, do you believe they would be forciblyresisted?” I replied, “I do.”

To her husband.

March, 1871.

I shall be so glad to get back to you, and tobreathe fresher air. I am sure your prayers havebeen heard in regard to my evidence before theCommission. I don’t think I did justice to theCommissioners in my first letter to you. I was sotired and depressed and dissatisfied with myself afterthe long ordeal, that I saw it all through rather adark medium. But now I am full of thankfulnessto God. I think I may quote to you what Mr.Rylands said to-day to Mr. Duncan McLaren and112others: “I am not accustomed to religious phraseology,but I cannot give you any idea of the effectproduced except by saying that the influence of theSpirit of God was there. Mrs. Butler’s words andmanner were not what the Commission expected;and now some of them begin to take a new viewof what they have hitherto called the ‘religiousprejudice.’” He added that Lord Hardwicke cameto speak to him afterwards, and that he seemedmoved, and said, “If this is a specimen of thestrength of conviction in the country on moralquestions, we must reconsider our ways.” I tellyou all this, dear husband, that we may learn moreand more to wait upon God, who hears prayer.I spent yesterday with dear Fanny in her rooms.Home to-morrow.

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CHAPTER VIII.
APPEAL TO MAGNA CHARTA.

Josephine Butler’s publications in 1871 includedSursum Corda, the substance (much expanded) ofa speech delivered at the annual meeting of theLadies’ National Association, two Addresses deliveredat Croydon and at Edinburgh respectively, and TheConstitution Violated, the most solid and weighty ofall her utterances on the Contagious Diseases Acts.The main argument of the last mentioned work isgiven in the following pages.

The enactments called the Contagious DiseasesActs, passed respectively in 1866 and 1869, may beregarded from several points of view. With theirmedical aspect and the statistical consideration oftheir results on public health it is not my intentionto deal. It has been dwelt on by other people andin other places fully.

The moral side of the question is undoubtedly themost important, and has been dwelt upon by thereligious portion of the community, almost to theexclusion of others, although it may be truly saidthat it of necessity includes all others.

There is however one aspect of the questionwhich has not been sufficiently set forth, that is, theconstitutional aspect, including the effect which such114legislation must have on our social and moral lifeas a nation, from a political point of view.

I am convinced that the people of this country areas yet but very partially awakened to the tremendousissues involved in the controversy before us, consideredas a matter of constitutional rights; thereforeit is that I venture, though I am no lawyer, to bringbefore them its extreme importance under thataspect. For this time of agony for the patriot, whocan in any degree foresee the future of that countrywhich violates the eternal principles of just government,drives many of us, unlearned though we be,to search the annals of our country, to enquire intopast crises of danger, and the motives and characterof the champions who fought the battles of liberty,with that keenness and singleness of purpose withwhich, in the agony of spiritual danger, the well-nighshipwrecked soul may search the Scriptures ofGod, believing that in them he has eternal life.

On the occasion of an infringement of a constitutionalprinciple by Parliament itself, a centuryago, Lord Chatham, when urging the House of Lordsto retrace this fatal step, used the following words:“If I had a doubt upon this matter, I should followthe example set us by the most reverend bench, withwhom I believe it is a maxim, when any doubt inpoint of faith arises, or any question of controversyis started, to appeal at once to the greatest sourceand evidence of our religion—I mean the HolyBible. The Constitution has its political Bible also,by which, if it be fairly consulted, every politicalquestion may and ought to be determined. MagnaCharta, the Petition of Rights, and the Bill of115Rights form that code which I call the Bible of theEnglish Constitution. “6

In following out this advice of Lord Chatham, itis to these authorities that I wish to appeal indetermining the exact nature of those principles ofthe Constitution which I assert have been violated.I am aware that in doing so I may incur criticism onaccount of my ignorance of legal terms and definitions,and on account of unskilfulness in the arrangementof the matter before me. I shall be satisfiedhowever, if I succeed in commending my subject tothose to whom I particularly address myself—I meanthe working men and working women of England.Neither they nor I have had a legal training, but wemay alike possess a measure of that plain Englishcommon sense which, to quote again Lord Chatham’swords, is “the foundation of all our English jurisprudence,”which common sense tells us that “nocourt of justice can have a power inconsistent with,or paramount to, the known laws of the land, andthat the people, when they choose their representatives,never mean to convey to them a power ofinvading the rights or trampling upon the libertiesof those whom they represent.”7 Further on in thisessay I shall show that Parliament, in making theContagious Diseases Acts, has invaded and trampledon the liberties of the people.

Among the clauses in Magna Charta, there is oneupon which the importance of all the others hinges,and upon which the security afforded by the others116practically depends. This clause, and the supplementaryclause which follows it, have been thosewhose subject has formed, more than any other,matter and occasion for the great battles fought forEnglish liberty and right since the charter wassigned by King John.

They are the thirty-ninth and fortieth clauses ofKing John’s Charter, and the twenty-ninth of thatof King Henry III, and are as follows:—

39. NO FREEMAN SHALL BE TAKEN, ORIMPRISONED, OR DISSEISED, OR OUTLAWED, ORBANISHED, OR ANYWAYS DESTROYED, NOR WILL WEPASS UPON HIM, NOR WILL WE SEND UPON HIM,UNLESS BY THE LAWFUL JUDGMENT OF HIS PEERS,OR BY THE LAW OF THE LAND.

40. WE WILL SELL TO NO MAN, WE WILL NOTDENY TO ANY MAN EITHER JUSTICE OR RIGHT.

“These clauses are the crowning glories of thegreat charter.”8 Mr. Hallam calls them its “essentialclauses,”9 being those which “protect thepersonal liberty and property of all freemen, bygiving security from arbitrary imprisonment andspoliation.”10 The same high authority observesthat these words of the great charter, “interpretedby any honest court of law, convey an ample securityfor the two main rights of civil society.” Theprinciples of this clause of the great charter, which,if we look backwards, are lost in antiquity, weresubsequently confirmed and elucidated by statutes117and charters of the reign of Henry III and EdwardIII entitled “confirmationes cartarum.”“Thefamous writ of Habeas Corpus was framed in conformitywith the spirit of this clause; that writ,rendered more actively remedial by the statute ofCharles II, but founded upon the broad basis ofMagna Charta, is the principal bulwark of Englishliberty, and if ever temporary circ*mstances, or thedoubtful plea of necessity, shall lead men to look onits denial with apathy, the most distinguishingcharacteristic of our constitution will be effaced. “11The same powerful testimony is given by De Lolme,Guizot and De Tocqueville.

It is precisely these very clauses, thus endearinglyeulogised by these great historians and lawyers ofvarious nations, which stand violated both in letterand in principle by the Contagious Diseases Acts.

It is not requisite for my purpose to enter into acritical examination of each of the words and phrasesof the great clause of Magna Charta referred to, noreven to quote a selection of comments on these wordsand phrases from the voluminous writings whichexist on the subject. There are two expressionshowever, as to the meaning of which I shall makea few remarks. The first, as bearing more particularlyon the subject in hand, viz. the phrase “or anywaysdestroyed,” and the second, the words “by thelaw of the land,” in order that I may with respectto these words correct a misunderstanding which mayarise in the mind of a reader who reads them withoutthe light of those subsequent comments and charterswhich have elucidated Magna Charta.

118

As to the first phrase, Blackstone, as well as otherwriters, gives a very wide signification to this word“destroy,” and in general terms it may be saidthat they agree in understanding that these wordsof the charter sternly forbid any proceeding on thebody of an accused person unless after trial by jury.If it were possible for me here to describe in detailthat proceeding which the Acts in question sanctionupon the body of a person suspected or accused,who has been condemned without any jury trial, nofurther words of mine would be needed to convincemy readers that this proceeding comes within thescope of that word “destroy.” The expression inMagna Charta, “We will destroy no one unless bythe judgment of his peers,” is by the great lawyersinterpreted to mean that no proceeding of any kindwhatever of a compulsory nature shall be permittedon the person of anyone except after jury trial.Blackstone and others, to make the matter moreplain, minutely define those cases in which alonethis prohibition of Magna Charta may be set aside,viz. in the punishment of young children by theirparents, and of pupils by their masters, but even thesewere to be kept within the bounds of decency andhumanity. I will only quote the words of De Lolme12on this subject:119 “Thus it was made one of thearticles of Magna Charta, that the executive powershould not touch the person of the subject, but in consequenceof a judgment passed upon him by hispeers; and so great was afterwards the generalunion in maintaining this law, that the trial by jurywhich so effectually secures the subject against allthe attempts of power, even against such as may bemade under the sanction of the judicial authority,hath been preserved till this day.”

The words “by the law of the land” have beentaken by some not to refer to jury trial. Attemptshave been made to justify illegal proceedings by thisinterpretation. This has given rise to argumentsand enactments, by means of which the relation ofthese words to jury trial has been settled beyonddispute. And it is these arguments and enactmentswhich, as much as anything else, have thrown lighton the ancient institution of jury trial, and haveconfirmed, as a lasting and inalienable part of theConstitution, this ancient “law of the land.” Oneof the most marked discussions on this subject,ending with the establishment of the principle whichwe have laid down, that jury trial is the oneconstitutional form of trial recognised in MagnaCharta, took place in the reign of Charles I, whenJudge Selden, at the time of the arrest of the fivemembers, made a famous speech, pleading for therelease of Sir E. Hampden from illegal imprisonment,on the ground that these words, “by the law of theland,” showed that it was illegal to imprison himby any other method than that of jury trial.

We who have combined to oppose this legislationmaintain that this Act is unconstitutional, becauseit submits a case, in which the result is to the partyconcerned of the most enormous consequence, totrial without jury. We are well aware, while makingthis statement, that there is a class of cases inEngland which at this present time are tried withouta jury. But these cases are what are called120 “minorcases.” Now we maintain that a woman’s honouris a point of very grave importance to her, and thatno State can thrive in which it is not regarded as avery sacred question. And we maintain that a casewhich is to decide as to the question of a woman’shonour is by no means, nor by any stretch oflanguage or imagination, capable of being calleda “minor case.” We therefore maintain that thislaw, which places the determination of the fact as toa woman’s honour solely in the hands of a singlejustice of the peace, is as great an infringementof constitutional right as if the determination of thefact as to whether a man were guilty of murder or notwere placed in the hands of a single justice of thepeace. We maintain absolutely that to deprive ofjury trial a woman whose honour is the subject inquestion is a breach of the English Constitution,as fundamentally expressed in that clause of MagnaCharta, of which we have already pointed outthe importance: “We will condemn no one exceptby the judgment of his peers.”

In answer to our objections to these Acts, it isutter vanity and folly in anyone to plead that theyapply only to women who are prostitutes. Can itbe supposed that there is any man in England sofoolish as to think that the safeguards of Englishlaw exist for the sake of the guilty only? They existfor the sake of the innocent, who may be falselyaccused, as well to protect them when accused,as to lessen the chances of unjust accusation. Andcan it be supposed that we are so blind as ever to beable to fancy that it is impossible that under this lawan innocent woman may be accused? On the121contrary, it is obvious that the question of a woman’shonour is one in which mistaken accusations arepeculiarly likely to occur.

For the rich and great there may be little dangerin dispensing with jury trial in this particularinstance. As there are classes in society whoseposition and wealth place them above any chanceof being erroneously accused of theft, so there areclasses whose position, wealth and surroundingsplace the women belonging to them equally aboveany chance of being erroneously accused of beingprostitutes. To this fact we may probably trace theapathy and indifference of so many of the upperclasses to the passing of the Contagious DiseasesActs, and the urbanity with which they assure usthat our fears are ungrounded, and that the operationof these Acts can seldom err. Again we must quotethe words of Junius: “Laws are intended not totrust to what men will do, but to guard againstwhat they may do.” But at the same time can weaccept the assurance that the action of the officialswho carry out these Acts will never be in error?We certainly cannot. Ladies who ride in theircarriages through the streets at night are in littledanger of being molested. But what of workingwomen? What of the daughters, sisters, wives ofworking men, out, it may be on an errand of mercy,at night? And what most of all of that girl whosefather, mother, friends are dead, or far away, whois struggling hard in a hard world to live uprightlyand justly by the work of her own hands,—is shein no danger from this law? Lonely and friendlessand poor, is she in no danger of a false accusation122from malice or from error, especially since oneclause of the Act particularly marks out homelessgirls as just subjects for its operation? And whathas she, if accused, to rely on, under God, except thatof which this law has deprived her, the appeal to betried “by God and my country, by which she isunderstood to claim to be tried by a jury, and to haveall the judicial means of defence to which the lawentitles her.”13

We have been reproached for making this questiona class question. We accept the reproach, if reproachit be, because we say that it is a question for the poorrather than for the rich. It was not we whoinitiated this distinction, but the majority of theupper classes soon taught us that they consideredit no question of theirs. They told us plainly thatthe subject was too unpleasant to be treated as oneof public interest. But while with this plea theyendeavoured to silence us, we found that theygenerally lent the weight of their influence, andnot always apathetically or ignorantly, to thepromotion of this legislation. To them this legislationinvolved no present and immediate diminutionof freedom for themselves, and they seem to havebeen blindly ignorant, or selfishly forgetful, thattheir children and children’s children would be,as well as the children of the poor, inheritors of thefatal consequences of violated liberties, and thatthe chains which they now weave for others will intime entangle themselves. But when we turnedto the humbler classes we found that they knewthat it is a question for them, and that they, more123intelligent in this than the upper classes, knew thatit was also a question for this whole country ofEngland, whose political liberty depends on thepreservation of the rights of all. “The trial by juryever has been,” says Blackstone,14 “and I trust everwill be, looked upon as the glory of the Englishlaw. It is the most transcendent privilege that anysubject can enjoy or wish for, that he cannot beaffected in his property, his liberty, or his personbut by the unanimous consent of twelve of hisneighbours and equals, a constitution that I mayventure to affirm has, under Providence, securedthe just liberties of this nation for a long successionof ages.”

I cannot therefore but regard the present as acrisis as great as any crisis through which this nationhas ever passed. This country was once called onto decide whether it would permit the king, for hissatisfaction, to override this thirty-ninth clause ofMagna Charta, and it decided most emphaticallythat he should not. It is now called on to decidewhether it will permit Parliament itself, for the sakeof the lusts of certain men, to override this sameclause. It remains for the people of England todecide this question, and a very solemn choice isgiven to you, my countrymen, at this moment:Are these men to have protection in their vices,or will you retain your liberties? If any of myreaders then came to the consideration of thismatter with the idea that there might be somethingto be said for this law medically, and that thoughthere might be something undefinedly wrong in it,124yet it embodied at least a benevolent intention,let him then remember that he has, at thenext election, to answer for himself and hiscountry: Shall we have liberty in lust, or shallwe have political freedom? We cannot retainboth.

Early in 1872 the Home Secretary, Mr. Bruce,introduced a Bill to repeal the Contagious DiseasesActs, and to substitute provisions dealing with thesubject in a different manner. Some opponents ofthe Acts at first were inclined to accept this compromise,but Josephine Butler issued a Letter on thesubject of Mr. Bruce’s Bill, and a leaflet entitled,A Few Words addressed to True-hearted Women, inwhich she closely examined the measure, and showedthat it was really open to the same moral and otherobjections that had been raised against the Actswhich it was intended to replace. The agitationagainst the Bill, which was thus roused, led to itsultimate withdrawal. In this year also she publishedanother pamphlet, The New Era, dealing with thefight against the regulation system in Berlin, thelessons to be learned from past failure, and thesource from which hope for the future was to bederived.

The repealers at this period took part in severalby-elections, notably that at Pontefract, whenscenes of greater violence than those at Colchesteroccurred, showing the fierce feelings roused by thismoral controversy. We cannot attempt to recordthe whole course of the seventeen years’ struggle,to notice the separate leagues and societies formedto oppose the Acts, the large number of publicmeetings, petitions to Parliament, and other activemeasures taken by the Abolitionists; but some ideaof the vigour of the fight may be gathered from thefact that in one year, 1873, over two hundred and125fifty public meetings were held, besides fifteenimportant conferences, at most of which JosephineButler took a leading part.

In spite of great encouragements now and again,we were from year to year forced to confess that theprospect of victory was much more distant than weat first imagined. Looking back over those years,we can now see the wisdom of God in allowing usto wait so long for the victory. For the merelegislative reform, or rather undoing and repairing,which was our immediate object, was but a smallpart of the great and vital movement which it wasHis design to create and maintain for the purifyingof the nations; and if we had obtained a speedytriumph there would not have been that greatawakening of consciences which we have witnessed,resulting in practical and lasting reforms. At timesthe struggle between opposing principles was verysevere; and hostile criticisms, censures—public andprivate—accusations, invective, and bitter wordsfell upon us at certain crises as thickly as the dartsof Apollyon on Christian’s armour at the entranceof the dark valley. Motives of the worst kind weresometimes imputed, among the most frequent beingthat of a lurking sympathy, not with the sinnersalone, but with their most hateful sins. A certainclass of our enemies thought themselves happy, itseemed, in inventing a dart which they believedwould strike home in our own case; they soughtdiligently to spread an impression that some tragicunhappiness in our married life was the impellingforce which had driven me from my home to this126work, and coarse abuse was varied by hypocriticalexpressions of pity and sympathy.

But they were the most unworthy alone—the lewdfellows of the baser sort naturally—by whom thiskind of scourging was inflicted or attempted. Itonly had the effect of strengthening our indifferenceto all selfish, impure, and interested opposition, andof deepening our thankfulness for the good gifts ofpeace and unity of heart in our home. Such manifestationshowever taught us much of the deepermeanings of these “signs of the times.” Much moreserious practically was the opposition of honourableopponents, men of education, high character andhonesty, who in some cases had openly given theirnames in favour of a principle and a measure whichhappily many of them learned to regard later withsuspicion and abhorrence.

On May 21st, 1873, the first debate and division inParliament took place on our question, which hadbeen courageously and ably pioneered in the Houseof Commons by William Fowler, a member of theSociety of Friends, and which afterwards (when Mr.Fowler lost his seat for Cambridge) was taken inhand with equal ability and courage by Sir HarcourtJohnstone. My husband congratulated me andhimself heartily on the division. The majorityagainst us was 137, yet he could rejoice! Andjustly so, for in counting up our probable friends inthe House we had not dared to hope that we shouldhave as many as those who actually voted for us,viz. 128.

It was on this occasion that old Mr. Henley spokein the House of Commons the following solemn127words (respect for his personal character causedmembers on both sides of the House to listen inperfect silence, a silence so great that though hisvoice was feeble all he said was distinctly heard):“It is complained,” he said, “that this agitation iscarried on by women; but we cannot shut our eyesto the fact that women are most affected by thislegislation. We men do not know what womensuffer. Unless they tell us, we cannot know. Inthis matter women have placed their feet upon the‘Rock of Ages,’ and nothing will force them fromtheir position. They knew full well what a crossthey would have to bear, but they resolved to takeup that cross, despising the shame. It was womenwho followed Christ to His death, and remained withHim while others forsook Him, and there are suchwomen amongst us now.”

In a division on the question of Women’s Suffrage,which occurred about this time, Mr. Henley, who hadtill then been opposed to granting the parliamentaryfranchise to women, voted in favour of it, and spokea few very touching words. He told me, that theexperience he had now had of the injustice, whichParliament (not excluding the good men in Parliament)is capable of inflicting on women, had convincedhim that they (women) must labour for and obtaindirect representation on equal terms with men.

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CHAPTER IX.
MISSION TO CONTINENT.

On the 25th of June, 1874, a few friends of theAbolitionist cause met to confer together at York.All were filled with a profound sense of the solemnityof the purpose which had brought them together.It was a time of deep depression in the work. Thosewho were present fully recognised the powerful arrayof organised forces against which they had to contend;they were filled with a kind of awe in the contemplationof those forces, and the magnitude of thedifficulties with which they were called to grapple.At the same time everyone of the group seemedanimated by a deep and certain conviction that thecause would triumph. The circ*mstances underwhich this conference took place were such as to callstrongly for the exercise of that faith which alone cananimate reformers to contend against a suddenincrease of an evil, at whose destruction they aim.The voice of the Abolitionist had for a time beenpartially stilled by the clash of parties in the GeneralElection. For a time even the most energeticworkers were unable to see what steps for the continuanceof the work could most effectively be taken.Having hitherto felt themselves engaged in a battlefor the abolition of the State sanction of vice in GreatBritain only, they had become aware that a large129and powerful organisation on the Continent wasseeking to increase the efficacy of the vice regulations,and for that purpose was appealing confidently toEngland to take the lead in organising, under all theGovernments of Europe, an international scheme forthe application of these regulations to every country,and to every seaport throughout the world. After aperiod of silence for united prayer, the Rev. C. S.Collingwood, Rector of Southwick, Sunderland,addressed the little group around him in wordswhich have never been forgotten by those who passedthrough the trial of faith of that year—words whichwere assuredly inspired by God, and were Hismessage to us at that period of anxious suspense.

In the course of the speech he said:130 “Our ceasingto be heard in Parliament for a time, or in the Press,or by public meetings, means necessarily so muchclear gain to the other side. We have a most solemncharge, and cannot even maintain our ground excepton the condition of ceaseless warfare. Much of thehostile pressure comes from abroad, and we shall dowell to consider the propriety of carrying the war intothe enemy’s country by establishing relations withleading and earnest opponents of the regulation ofsin, say in France, Belgium, Prussia, Italy, etc., andstimulating opposition in these countries, and perhapsholding our own international congress. There canbe no doubt that in all the countries subjected to thisdegrading system a few sparks would create a greatfire of indignation and revolt against the immoralsystem. When Granville Sharp, in 1772, obtainedthe famous decision that a slave is free as soon as hetouches English territory, he did not think it one ofthe first steps towards the general abolition of theslave trade, and of slavery everywhere; but it wasso. And thus, when some noble ones among usraised a cry of horror and indignation on finding thatsupervised vice had presumed to desecrate ourEnglish soil they little guessed how far their voiceswould reach, nor what the work was upon which theyunwittingly were entering, nor what the victorieswhich they were to achieve. But they have alreadybeen able to produce great effects in Africa, Australia,and the United States; and, though still unsuccessfulat home, we and they believe that the oppositionwhich has commenced in England will obtain itsutmost success here, and that a force of public opinionand true sentiment is being slowly generated, whichwill cross all lands and seas, and in its progress sweepaway everywhere the monstrous organisation of vice,against which we lift our voices to-day.”

These words found an echo in the breasts of allpresent, and from that conference all departed feelingthat a new era was dawning upon the whole movement,which could only lead to the final triumph ofthe cause of justice and morality far beyond thelimits of our own country.

Before separating, the conference passed a simpleresolution, accepting Josephine Butler’s propositionto open correspondence with opponents of theRegulation system abroad. This opening of correspondence“was in its beginning an apparently feeble—asit was indeed a laborious—undertaking, carriedon somewhat in the vague and in the dark.” Theresults however were so far encouraging that laterin the year she resolved to undertake a personal131mission to the Continent. Shortly before herdeparture a meeting of women to wish her “Godspeed” was held at Birmingham, chiefly promotedby the Society of Friends. Mrs. Richardson, ofYork (who, like her sister, Mrs. Kenway, of Birmingham,was one of Josephine Butler’s oldest anddearest fellow-workers), wrote of this meeting:“Idesire that you may be reminded of the meetingwhich took place immediately before her departure,and to which all then present, and she herself, largelyattributed the remarkable success which was permittedto attend her labours, believing it to have beenthe direct answer to earnest prayer offered up there,and from many other friends elsewhere who were withus in spirit that evening. The meeting was calledfor the express purpose of united prayer to God onMrs. Butler’s behalf—that He would guide and protecther on every hand, and prosper the work uponwhich she was about to enter.... After thereading (of Psalm xci), Mrs. Wilson offered prayerfor God’s presence and blessing on the meeting, thatit might tend to the help and strength of Mrs. Butler,and of all present. Mrs. Butler then gave a littleaccount of how this widening prospect of the workhad grown upon her. The necessity of seeking thesympathy and co-operation of other countries hadbeen brought forcibly before her mind at the time ofa conference at York in June, when this feature of thesubject had taken great hold of the meeting; andknowing that it could, for obvious reasons, be moresuccessfully carried out if universally adopted, shereminded us that those who were promoting thehateful system of regulated vice in continentalnations were watching with anxiety the action ofEngland in this direction, and rejoicing to see that itwas beginning to take deep root here, and thatwhereas amongst them it was a police regulation only,here Parliament had seen fit to make it the law of theland. Mrs. Butler expressed her conviction that it132must be made known abroad that many in Englandhad determined, by God’s help, to bring to an endthe entire system, and desired the sympathy andco-operation of those in other countries, who, sheknew, had long groaned in secret under the burdenof an evil which they felt powerless to grapple with.From that time Mrs. Butler had increasingly felt thatthe task must devolve upon herself of setting a sparkto the smouldering embers, and in connection withthis prospect the words of the Scriptures had constantlybeen before her mind: ‘I have set before theean open door, and no man can shut it.’ She believedthe time had now come when she must giveherself up to this new branch of the work."15

Josephine Butler herself wrote to a friend concerningthis meeting:—

As we sat, during those calm silences which I somuch love in Friends’ meetings, when God seemseven more present than when any voice of prayer isbreaking the hushed stillness, I did not think anymore of the cold winter, long journeys, cynicalopposition and many difficulties I knew I was goingto meet. I knew that God is true, and that certainlyI should be able to trample on the lion and adder.My thoughts were carried far beyond this near future,and a vista seemed to rise before me of the years tocome—of some great and marvellous and beautifulmanifestation of the power of God, of gathering hosts,an exceeding great army, before whom will meltaway the monstrous wickedness which men of theworld believe to be indestructible, and of the redemptionof the slave.

133

She left England in December, accompanied byone of her sons, and joined later by her husband andother sons and Mr. Stuart. Some idea of the extentand nature of her work during this journey throughFrance, Italy and Switzerland may be gathered fromthe following letters.

To Mr. Stansfeld.

December, 1874.

I think I told you that I spent a part of my lastafternoon in Paris, at the Prefecture of Police. Thememory of that interview is so exceedingly painfulto me that I feared I should be unfitted for my workif I dwelt upon it. I was struck by the grandeur ofthe externals of the office, and by the evidence of theirresponsibility and despotic sway over a large classof the people possessed by the man Lecour. Iascended a large stone staircase, with guards placedat intervals, and many people coming and going,apparently desiring audiences. The Prefect’s outerdoor is at the top of the staircase, and over it, in conspicuousletters, are engraved the words; “Arrests—Serviceof Morals” (the arrests being of women only).In looking at these words the fact (though I knew itbefore) came before me with painful vividness, thatman in this nineteenth century has made woman hisdegraded slave, by a decree which is heralded inletters of gold, and retains her in slavery by a violentdespotism which, if it were applied to men, wouldsoon set all Paris, and not merely a few of its buildingsin flames. The words “Service des Mœurs” is themost impudent proclamation of an accepted falsehood.Too clearly and palpably is the true meaning of it“Service de Débauche”; and M. Lecour’s conversation134throughout showed and confirmed most powerfullythe fact (though he himself may be blind to it) thatit is immorality, not morality, for which his officemakes provision. I was kept waiting some time inthe handsomely furnished room of the Prefect whilehe finished his interviews with people who had precededme. While seated by the fire, with the newspaperin my hand which had been given to me by aliveried servant, I heard the whole of the conversation(it was impossible not to hear it) which passed.It left a very sorrowful and terrible impression on mymind. An elderly man was there, who appeared tobe pleading the cause of a woman, perhaps a nearrelation, or in some way dear to him. M. Lecourspoke of the woman as one whom he had full powerto acquit or to condemn, and there was a lightness inhis tone which contrasted strikingly with the troubledgravity of the other, who more than once interruptedthe volubility of the Prefect with the words, spokenin a voice of sullen, repressed emotion, “But you haveaccused her.” I thought of the words, “Whose soeversins ye remit, they are remitted; and whose soever sinsye retain, they are retained.” Such a power in a merelyhuman, but most awful sense, is possessed by thatirresponsible ruler of the women of Paris; but hiscredentials are not divine. As I left his placeI felt oppressed with a great sadness, mingledwith horror; and, in thinking of M. Lecour, Irecalled the words about “man, drest in a little briefauthority,” who “plays such fantastic tricks beforehigh heaven as make the angels weep”; and notonly that, but as make women die, cursing God, inhorror and despair.

135

To Mr. Stansfeld.

Antibes, December, 1874.

I should like our friends to know how much thelittle faithful band of sympathisers in Paris recogniseour mission as from God. There has lately been agreat religious movement in France, as in some partsof England. Meetings for prayer are still held constantly.It seems also that there was among some afeeling of suspense, of expectation, almost of discomfort,in the belief that action, and aggressiveaction, ought to follow, and must follow, the deepeningof spiritual life and the clearer apprehension oftheir personal relations with the Father in heaven.They have been feeling it is not enough to meet andpray, and to try for themselves to draw ever nearerto God. There must be a deeper meaning in thisspiritual awakening; there must soon be a call tobattle. Thus then without knowing what had beenpassing in Paris, and ignorant of the fact of a religiousawakening, I spoke to them what I felt, and said thatthe only meaning of our being on earth at all was tobe combatants; that the only condition of ourspiritual health is war, unceasing war, against thewhole kingdom of Satan, and against all evil things.I found some of these good men pondering thesematters, and I began to see the connection in theirminds between this call to oppose the evil round themand the previous movement. They saw, and confessedthat the deepened personal life of the soulmeant increased responsibility, and they recognisedthe guidance of God in this second call; and as thepath became clearer to me I saw how “God leads theblind by a way they know not of.”

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From her sister.

Naples, New Year’s Eve,
Midnight, 1874-1875.

“Beloved of my Soul,

“I want to spend this solemn hour with you. Myheart is overflowing with gratitude to Him whosecross you bear. This year, which you told me beganwith such discouragement, and with the revelationof such new, untold horrors that you would notrepeat them, has finished gloriously with the carryingof the standard of the fiery cross over the sea andinto another land; and you—it is as if (no, there isno if about it) God surrounds you with His shield.

“Everyone out of England to whom I told yourmission said you would be insulted and outragedin Paris, and could not do any good.

“Even people who believe in your mission toldme of the way irreverent Frenchmen turn to ridiculeanything spoken with a foreign accent; spoke of thedangers you would incur, and the impossibility ofyour making any impression. When they talkedthus I smiled and said, ‘Wait and see: this is ofGod, and He will justify His handmaid.’ I felt soclearly that God gave it you to do; and whateverthe world may think, God knows what He is about.

“He is not an idealised Joss, who lives in churches.He is present among us. He can manage even theParis police. How He laid your enemies under yourfeet! Sometimes I got frightened because of yourweak chest, and the bitter weather, and I longed tobe with you, that I might at least run about after youwith spirit-lamp and tea-caddy, or muscat wine,cloves and sugar to cheer you. Two days ago I got137your first letters to your dear husband, which hesent on to me. It must not happen that you do notget here. With all you have to do, it seems cruel tobring you so far; but it would be sweet that youshould once be in my dirty Naples, and dear Georgealso. I recall all his kindness and goodness, since oldOxford days, until that crowning goodness ofreceiving us with our dead treasure as his guests, thepretty guest chamber ready for her, in spite of allthe unhealed wounds the sight must have openedin your hearts. All that comes up, and we long tohave you as our guests, to repay the kindness.

“Your mission is too high and holy to be understood!Is it not wonderful how people go onthinking it lovelily humble and sweetly meritoriousto go on picking off a bad-smelling leaf here and therefrom the upas tree, instead of taking the Sword ofGod and striking at its very tap root—nipping hereand there the results of its growth, instead of cuttingoff the source of its life?”

To her husband.

Naples, January 13th, 1875.

We have had an excellent meeting here. Thecirc*mstances which led to it were very affecting,and I must tell you all when we meet. You knowthat my one object in coming here was to see mydarling Hatty, and to rest awhile with her in herbeautiful home. I neither planned nor expected acontinuance of my mission here; but God orderedit otherwise, and without our seeking it at all, thework came to us. Two gentlemen called and gravelydesired to learn whether I would address a company138of friends on the subject of our mission, if they undertookthe arrangements. I was much touched andsomewhat surprised. I said I could not refuse theirrequest. They then asked me to accompany themto the office of the English Consul, to ask him topreside at the meeting. We parted at the Consul’sdoor, they to get circulars of invitation printed, andto make other arrangements, and I to confer withHatty about the ladies who would be most likely tosupport us. In every step however the initiativewas taken by others, and we only followed theguidance which was so distinct, that we could haveno doubt at all about the Voice, saying, “This isthe way; walk ye in it.” How often have I longedto have Hatty, my childhood’s beloved companion,associated with me in this holy work. You canimagine how sweet it is to me; and how full, andtender, and penetrating are her sympathy in, andher understanding of, the whole matter. Thechildren are very good, Thekla a most lovable littlemaiden. Our days are very pleasant. Hatty takesme in her carriage the most beautiful drives. Thefirst evening the sunset was lovely. Capri and Ischiawere bathed in a sweet, pale rosy light, and thefeathery cloud resting on Vesuvius was reddenedand golden, and all these were again reflected inthe smooth, pale blue waters of the bay. I wishevery moment that you were here.

At the meeting we had no expressed opposition,but I was aware of an opposing current of thoughtand opinion in the room, which we were able to traceto its source, namely an English doctor. I thought helooked ominous as he entered with a great bundle139of the Lancet under his arm, and I observed himwhispering impatiently to his neighbours on eachside as I spoke. It almost makes one smile to see thatmiserable Lancet brought forward as an authorityin a great moral and humanitarian question likethis. You can believe that Hatty and I returned tothe house with our hearts full of thankfulness toGod, and having arrived there that the word ofcommand, “Tea, Giovanni,” was given with morethirsty eagerness than usual. Hatty says shebelieves Giovanni thinks our afternoon teas are aspecies of “culto,” which we “pagani” observe withgreat solemnity and punctuality. It was an afternoonmeeting, as you will see. I should tell youthat a resolution was passed, of sympathy with thework and the workers. Our friends here lookanxiously to what may be done in Rome, and thinkthat if some of the deputies and leading men wouldtake up the question, and then send an invitationto them in Naples to co-operate with them, it wouldgive the best chance for practical results here.

To her sister.

Turin, January 29th, 1875.

I live over again in thought the sweet days Ispent with you. I look back upon that time assomething sacred; but it leaves a blank in my heart.I realise more than before what a loss it is to us to beso far and so long separated, and I feel more thanever the tenacity of early affection, and the ties ofkindred. Ah! how often I lie awake at nightthinking of those hours we spent together. It wasa sunshine and happiness to prepare me for the hard140work which was to follow; and which is a sufferingpiece of work, though full of interest and hope.Going from city to city, tired and weary, alwaysto meet with sharp opposition and cynicism, andever new proofs of the vast and hideous oppression,is like running one’s breast upon knife points, alwaysbeginning afresh before the last wound is healed.

You understand, don’t you? I utter this littlecry to you, but I am not despondent. This is reallyonly physical weakness, I think, for I have to praiseGod for good work accomplished, and for soulsinspired to work. “I know that my Redeemerliveth.” The hour of our redemption has struck!I say “our” for we have not only remembered thosethat are in bonds, as being bound with them, butactually suffered with them in spirit for long, longyears. This may be but the beginning of the breakingof our bonds, and to our finite minds the Deliverermay seem long in coming. To the Lord a thousandyears are but as one day, and one day as a thousandyears; but the time is coming—is coming mostsurely. One thing we know, and that is, that allthis cruelty and sin, this blinding and misleadingof souls, this selfish profligacy, this slaughter of theinnocents, this organised vice, this heavy oppression,this materialism which sets the body above the soul,profaning the sacred name of science, and makingof her a “procuress to the lords of hell”—all thiswe know is hateful in the eyes of the Holy God, andwe know that it must perish before the light of Hiscountenance, when the arm of the Lord shall berevealed, and when His own arm shall bring salvation.Even out of the depths therefore we will141praise Him, and rejoice for the day that is coming.Be strong in faith, my dear one; do not despaireven for those poor captured victims, from theirchildhood forced into sin and shame, whosesorrowful sighing seems for a time to rise in vainto heaven. Can we love them so much, anddoubt that God loves them far more than we?Our utmost pity is but a drop compared withthe ocean of His pity for them. I feel a kind oftriumph in that beautiful arrangement by whichHe has chosen the weak things of this world toconfound the strong. It matters nothing at all whatwe are, provided we are but entirely willing to bemade the instruments of His will, His agents in thisworld. I do not think we know the meaning of theword strength until we have fathomed our own utterweakness. I sometimes think of the lines about the“Steadfast Prince”—

To these my poor companions seem I strong,

And at some times, such am I, as a rock

That has upstood in middle ocean long,

And braved the winds and waters’ angriest shock,

Counting their fury but an idle mock:

Yet sometimes weaker than the weakest wave

That dies about its base, when storms forget to rave.

I from my God such strength have sometimes won,

That all the dark, dark future I am bold

To face—but oh! far otherwise anon,

When my heart sinks and sinks to depths untold

Till being seems no deeper depth to hold.

Did I tell you how I had been pleasantly hauntedbefore I left home by the words, “Behold, I have setbefore thee an open door, and no man can shut it.”I often used to wake up suddenly at night with a fear142lest I had been presumptuous to think of such amission as this; and then these words would againand again sound in my soul, and almost in my ears,as if an angel had spoken them. Yes, it is true, ifthat hand opens the door, not all the powers of earthnor of hell can prevail to shut it.

To her sister.

Lausanne, February 13th, 1875.

My work is over in Switzerland. A hard tendays’ work rather. My evenings are rather lonely,and the cold at times is bitter; at Chaux-de-Fondsit was really cruel. But it is over; and I can onlysee the good part of it now. At several places committeeshave been formed. Switzerland has respondedwonderfully. Let us thank God! As inItaly a man was found to devote his life wholly tothe work, so in Switzerland a man has come forwardready for any service—it is M. Humbert. Is it nottouching to see how God prepares hearts? I haveasked him to meet me in Paris, that we may try andfind a man in France also who will give his life tothe cause. I got your precious telegram to-day.It seemed to bring a breath of southern warmth intothe cold. There is a terribly sharp wind to-day.I long to hear from you again, for I feel as if I hadfound you again after many days. We shall now,though parted for long, weary seasons, work in heartand in prayer at least together; hope, believe together,and together “watch for the morning.” Iwrote my last letter home in one of those largeSwiss railway carriages, with tables and chairs, anda nice fire in the corner. I was alone, and piled logs143of wood on my fire, and was quite warm, and at ease.They fence out the cold perfectly in the houses here.It is only out of doors that one feels it. The sceneson the Jura reminded me of pictures of the winterretreats of chamois, or of bear-hunting in Norway.Those enormous pines, such as George drew, look sohandsome with their loads of newly-fallen snow andpendants of icicles, like jewels, in the sunlight.I was asked to go to Bienne and Basel, but I couldnot stay. I regret most of all not going to Zurich.There is life there, and it will join us, I am sure.But I feel I ought not to delay longer here. Ourmeeting here was a most excellent one of men andwomen in a church. Mr. Buscarlet spoke after I hadspoken; he had in his hand a copy of the EdinburghDaily Review, which he had just received fromScotland, and out of which he read, translating itas he went on, part of the speech of Mr. Stansfeld atEdinburgh, and giving the statistical proofs, so ablystated by him, of the physical failure of these laws.It was listened to with great interest. After everymeeting in Switzerland some practical step has beenagreed upon, and I have confidence that the separateefforts will develop ere long into a connected,organised work. It has been agreed that the speechmade by Professor Aimé Humbert, at Neuchâtel,shall be printed and widely circulated. This is beingput in hand at once. I was glad to hear a citizen ofBerne say, with grave conviction, that he believedthe greatest obstacle they would have to contendagainst in Germany would be from the Germanhabit of judging, which denies to woman her place asman’s equal, makes her the mere house-wife and144child-bearer, and gives her no voice at all even inthese matters, which concern women most terriblyand closely. This, he said, would be a dead weight;but they must fight against it, protest against it;for it was upon this equality and the equality of themoral standard for both sexes that the whole reformwe seek must rest for its success. I was glad tohear this sentiment from a German-speaking Swiss,and to hear the same conviction, in other words,strongly expressed by others. Another Swiss gentlemansaid it seemed to him that it would be aroundthis question that the great battle of the “droit del’individu,” the principle of personal responsibilityand freedom, would be fought in Europe—that rightwhich the party of privilege, the absolutists, on theone hand, and the socialists on the other, destroy ordeny. I had a most pleasant evening at the Buscarlets’.I love Madame Bridel. She has writtento her son-in-law, M. E. de Pressensé.

To Joseph Edmondson, and other friends.
Paris, February, 1875.

I write to you, dear friends, who may care toread this letter, a last letter before leaving France,and I want to tell you once more how wonderfullyGod has worked in this matter. I am filled with aweand gratitude when I think of it. I see His hand inall, and I think your prayers have followed andsurrounded me: were it not so, I should hardly knowhow to account for many extraordinary interpositionswhen I was in extremities, and the kindness I havemet with in every place. It is a touching history,145and I now want to beg my friends in England notto be wanting in faith any more concerning thisforeign work. I felt last autumn that most of myfriends agreed to this part of the work because Iwished it, rather than because they saw for themselvesthat it was a logical sequence to, and anecessary expansion of, our home work. Oh, ifthey could only see how hearts on the Continentare leaning towards England in this matter! Weall fancied that our England was the only countrywhich felt rightly, the only people which hadgroaned as just and good people under this evil andtyranny. It is not so. In no place which I havevisited have I found a complete acquiescence inthe evil, and in every place there has been, at onetime or other, some active opposition breaking outhere and there. But the evil has been too strong,and Governments have been too strong. Protestshowever have been made in almost every city atsome time or other. Good and noble souls havelaboured in secret, heroically, to try to underminethe system, and some have suffered persecution andcontempt for the cause. I tell you all this becauseI want you to see, as I do, how providentially itseems that the open appeal to international effortshould have come from England now. I want youto see how God has been training us, not for ourbattle in England alone, but for this battle ofprinciples all over Europe. I am convinced thatwe should be simply fools if we were to be contentedwith achieving our own repeal victory. What dothose English people, who care only for the interestsof England, suppose would happen if we were to get146repeal? Would they go back to their politics, theirhomes, their families, and be in no more danger?Not a bit of it. If we left the Continent unmovedand unhelped, we should not be safe for a year onour own soil. Whence did this particular evil cometo us? Did it not come from the Continent? Andwhat would hinder the infection from again invadingus? But when once the open conflict is begunabroad, the case will be altered.

To her husband.

Paris, February, 1875.

It was a relief and rest to me, after seeing manysad places, to pay a visit to the “Maison desDiaconesses,” and to see the good work done there—theschools, hospital, and refuge. I dined with thedeaconesses, and afterwards one of them took me tosee the poor girls they rescue from misery and vice.They were all assembled, and this deaconess saidto them, in a sweet, gentle voice, “I want you to lookat this dear lady, my children. Yes, look at herwell, for she is your friend, and perhaps you maynever see her again. She is our friend; she has cometo Paris to say that our bonds shall be broken.”And then she continued, speaking almost as a personspeaks in a dream, and very solemnly,“Our bondsshall be broken. A time shall come when vice shallno more be organised and upheld by the law, tocrush us down to hell. You understand what Imean, my children. Ah, you understand too well!She has come to Paris to oppose the great machinerywhich makes it so easy to sin, and so hard to escape.She brings you a message from Jesus to-day, my147children, and asks you to love Him, and to lookforward in hope. For our bonds shall be broken—ours;for we are sisters, we suffer with you.”

She explained further to them, very delicatelyand solemnly, till one saw they began to feel they hada part with us in the good war. I said a few words,and then we all sang a hymn together, about ourbonds being broken, at the end of which thisdeaconess played a few notes on her harmonium,on which she had accompanied us, in which therecame a minor tone of sadness for one moment,which seemed to express the hidden agony of theheart so well known to us, while we spoke onlyof hope to the poor girls.

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CHAPTER X.
THE FEDERATION.

The year 1875 has few clear recollections for mepersonally, in direct connection with our cause.Six years of work, and more especially the wintermonths spent in very difficult work on the Continent,had over-taxed my strength. My health gave way,and was only restored by several months of rest,during which I heard only the distant echoes of theconflict, while I remained at home.

During this autumn Une Voix dans le Désertwas ably edited by M. Aimé Humbert, and broughtout in French and German, and widely circulated.It consisted of my addresses given on the Continentduring the previous winter. These addresses,spoken in French, were never published in English,but were translated year by year into other languages—Italian,German, Spanish, Dutch, Danish, Swedish,Norwegian and Russian. The following letter refersto this work.

To M. Humbert.

1875.

I feel with you every day that some such voice isneeded just now. It would perhaps have beenbetter had we been able to bring out a completebook as our first, a book which should contain allthe scientific and juridical arguments, as well as a149complete review of historical facts relating to thissubject. But such a complete book is at thismoment impossible. I therefore beg you tocommunicate what I now say to Messieurs Sandozand Fischbacher (publishers). We want statistics andfacts—yes,—but would English statistics and factsalone, drawn from a limited experience, be much orgenerally valued in other countries? I think not, ifthey stood alone. Facts from a larger area we musthave later, and we shall have them, for, thank God,they stand as indestructible witnesses everywhereof the folly and futility of the attempt to regulatevice. How much more powerful, how overwhelmingin fact, would it be for our opponents, and howstrengthening for our cause, if we could show factsand statistics gathered from every country, and overa larger period of time. This is precisely what weare now aiming at. We have received all the mostrecent reports from Italy, France, Germany, andother countries. On every hand there is confessionof the failure of regulation. Mireur, Jeannell,Diday, Deprès, Pallasciano, Huet, Crocq, all confessto hygienic failure. The proposals of some of thesem*n to ensure future success (a success which theyconfess they have never yet ensured) are of such awild and ghastly nature, that one has only to readtheir books to see that the beginning of the end isat hand. From out these statistics there appear,here and there, deeply pathetic facts, such as these:that four-fifths of the poor girls subjected to thistyranny (according to one writer) are orphans;many are foreigners in the country of theirenslavement; many are young widows. Does not150our God, who is the God of the Fatherless, of theWidow, and of the Stranger, take note of thesethings? You see that in a year or two we shall havea mass of evidence against this system which willgive the doctors and materialist legislators a hardtask to refute. I care little that men accuse me,as you say, of mere sentiment, and of carrying awaymy hearers by feeling rather than by facts and logic.Even while they are saying this they read my words,and they are made uncomfortable! They feel thatthere is a truth of some sort there, and that sentimentit*elf is after all a fact and a power when it expressesthe deepest intuitions of the human soul. Theyhave had opportunity for many years past of lookingat the question in its material phases, of appreciatingits hygienic results, and of reading numberless bookson the subject—statistical, medical, and administrative.Now for the first time they are asked to lookupon it as a question of human nature, of equalinterest to man and woman; as a question of theheart, the soul, the affections, the whole moral being.As a simple assertion of one woman speaking fortens of thousands of women, those two words“we rebel” are very necessary, and very useful forthem to hear. The cry of women, crushed underthe yoke of legalised vice, is not the cry of astatistician or a medical expert; it is simply a cryof pain, a cry for justice, and for a return to God’slaws in place of these brutally impure laws inventedand imposed by man. It is imperfect, no doubt, asan utterance, but the cry of the revolted womanagainst her oppressor, and to her God, is far moreneedful at this moment than any reasoned-out151argument. I think therefore, and my husbandagrees with me, that it is better to publish theVoice in the Wilderness simply as the utterance of awoman, and to do it quickly. It will rouse someconsciences, no matter how imperfect men may findit. On the eve of a war it may be said that thesound of the trumpet is imperfect because it onlycalls to the battle, and that we want to see thetroops, their arms, and the strength of muscle oneither side. Yet the call to battle is needed; theclose grappling with the foe will follow. It is onlywhen the slave begins to move, to complain, to givesigns of life and resistance, either by his own voice,or by the voice of one like himself speaking for him,that the struggle for freedom truly begins. The slavenow speaks. The enslaved women have found a voicein one of themselves, who was raised up for no otherend than to sound the proclamation of an approachingdeliverance. Never mind the imperfection of the firstvoice. It is the voice of a woman who has suffered,a voice calling to holy rebellion and to war. It willpenetrate. Then by and by we shall come down onour opponents with the heavy artillery of facts andstatistics and scientific arguments on every side.We will not spare them, we will show them nomercy. We shall tear to pieces their refuge oflies, and expose the ghastliness of their covenantwith death, and their agreement with hell. We andour successors will continue to do this year after yearuntil they have no ground to stand upon.

Shortly after her return to England she had givenan account of her mission, at a conference held in152London, “in the course of which she showed that herown work abroad had had very little of a creativecharacter, but had rather served to bring out andgive expression to sentiments and convictions alreadyexisting in the various countries she had visited.”It was resolved at this conference to form a federationof the friends of the movement in all countries.“The British, Continental and General Federationfor the Abolition of Government Regulation ofProstitution” was formally constituted at a meetingin Liverpool on March 19th, Mr. Stansfeld beingchosen as President, Mr. W. Crossfield as Treasurer,and M. Aimé Humbert, of Neuchâtel, as ContinentalCorrespondent. Mrs. Butler was appointed Hon.Secretary, with Mr. H. J. Wilson as co-Secretary protem. (he was succeeded a few months later by Mr.Stuart, who this year became Professor Stuart).The heavy work of correspondence connected withthe starting of the Federation, added to the fatiguesof the preceding winter’s work on the Continent,proved to be too much for her bodily strength, andshe was compelled to give up all work for severalmonths. The work however experienced no check,for during these months Mr. Wilson in England andM. Humbert on the Continent, by their untiringenergy and earnestness, succeeded in gaining manyadherents to the Federation, which was thus earlyput on a firm foundation.

In the following April the late Rev. J. P. Gledstoneand Mr. H. J. Wilson started on a journey to theUnited States, where they met many leaders of theold anti-slavery party and other kindred spirits,whom they enlisted into sympathy and co-operationwith the Federation. Writing to Josephine Butlertwenty years later, Mr. Gledstone recalled theoccasion of their starting on this journey: “It was,I remember, a cold, stormy Thursday in April, 1876,when you persisted in accompanying Mr. Wilson andme to the river, to see us on board the Adriatic. The153anti-regulation struggle has seen some uncommonthings; I think so now, as I recall your slender formseeking shelter from the keen wind that swept throughthe little tug that conveyed us to the huge steamerlying in the middle of the Mersey—two strong mensent out on their mission and cheered to it by onewoman!”

This year Josephine Butler published anonymously,for the Social Purity Alliance, The Hourbefore the Dawn: an Appeal to Men. A Frenchtranslation of this pamphlet was published the sameyear in Paris. Her name appeared on the title-pageof the second edition, issued six years later. Itssustained eloquence and passionate, pathetic appealcombine to make it one of the finest of all herwritings. It reveals the profoundest sympathy forall men, as well as women, who have sinned and arestruggling to rise again. To such she preaches agospel of hope, and shows that though the past isirreparable, there is always an available future. Wecan only give one extract, selected because of itsautobiographical interest.

I look back to the years when my soul was indarkness on account of sin—the sin, the misery andthe waste which are in the world, the great and sadproblems of life, the prosperity of evil-doers, theinnocent suffering for the guilty, the cruelties, thewrongs inflicted and never redressed, and themultitudes who seem to be created only to be lost.A great cloud gathered over me. Anger, fear,dismay filled my heart. I could see no God, or suchas I could see appeared to me an immoral God. Sinseemed to me the law of the world, and Satan itsmaster. I staggered on the verge of madness andblasphemy. I asked,154 “Does not God care? CanGod bear these things?” He is silent, the woedeepens, and the question is still sent up from generationto generation, Hath God not seen? Will Henot help? Does He look down from His eternalcalm of heaven an indifferent spectator? Can it bethat the Eternal rests content that any human beingswhom He has created should perish for ever? Thatmen should destroy themselves in spite of God is aterrible thought, but not so terrible, not so fatal tohope, to love, and to faith as the thought, full ofdeadly poison, that God cares not—that the heart ofHim who redeemed us is cold, when my own is filledwith an agony of compassion. This bitter thoughttaking possession of my soul, did not beget despondency,or lassitude, or indifference, leadingme to close my eyes and fold my hands; but itstirred up the rebel within me. I could not loveGod—the God who appeared to my darkenedand foolish heart to consent to so much which seemedto me cruel and unjust, and removable by an act ofHis power. I was like one who is leaning over a greatgulf, whence none who fall into it ever return. “Inmy distress I cried unto the Lord, and He heard me.”The pride and rebellion gave way before deep andheavy sorrow; and then all the sorrow gathereditself up into one great cry. I asked of the Lord onething—that He would take of His own heart andshow it to me; that He would reveal to me His one,His constant attitude toward His lost world; thatas I had shown Him my heart He would show me Hisheart, so much of it as a worm of the earth can comprehendand endure, so much of it as the finite canreceive from the Infinite (for to know His love for the155world and His sorrow for the world, as they are,would break any human heart. I should, in themoment of such a revelation, expire at His feet: aman cannot so see God and live). Deep calleth untodeep; His own helpful spirit, out of the depths of myheart, making supplication for me with groaningsunutterable, calling to the deep heart of Christ,awakened echoes there which called back again tomine.

Continuing to make this one request through dayand night, through summer and winter, with patienceand constancy, the God who answers prayer hadmercy on me. He did not deny me my request—thatHe should show me of His own heart’s love forsinners, and reveal to me His one, His constantattitude towards His lost world; and when He makesthis revelation He does more—He makes the enquiringsoul a partaker of His own heart’s love for theworld. The doubt, the dark misery growing out ofthe contemplation of the sorrows of earth and theapparent waste of souls are no longer able to drive meinto sullenness and despair, for I have found the doorof hope. I do not say—for I speak neither more norless than I have learned of God—that the perplexityis solved, that the sorrow is gone. Sorrow is withme still, the enduring companion of my life. I donot pretend to be able to explain the secrets of Godand the great problems of life with any clearness ofspeech to satisfy another. But I have found the doorof hope. He has the key of all mysteries, and we arethen nearest to the solution of every painful mystery,when we have drawn nigh and heard from Him thesecrets of His heart of love. Now I know when my156heart is strangely stirred by the sight of a vastmultitude in some great city that my heart’s yearningsover them are but the faintest shadowings of Hisheart’s yearnings over them; that my love, whichwould embrace them all, is but as a drop of water tothe ocean of His love, which would embrace them all.But in vain! Words are not found in which toexpress what it is which Christ may reveal to the soulwhich has waited on Him in determined love andgrief, with this one request, “Show me Thy heart’slove for sinners, and Thy one, Thy constant attitudetowards Thy lost world.” Seek it, friends, and youshall know how far it solves the sorrowful problemsof earth, though you too may find it to be among thethings which it is not possible or lawful for a man toutter. Where, where in heaven or on earth, if nothere, will you find an answer alike to the greatquestions of life which vex your heart, and to theproblem of yourself, that single being, so fearfullyand wonderfully made?

In the late autumn of 1876 a newspaper warsuddenly broke out in France kindled by numerouscases of arbitrary and cruel action on the part of thePolice des Mœurs, and frequent arrests both of menand women for resisting or even speaking againstthat force. As a result the Paris Municipal Council,which was opposed to the system, appointed acommission of enquiry, and the commission invitedcertain persons from different countries who hadstudied the question to give evidence before it.Mr. and Mrs. Butler, Mr. Stansfeld and ProfessorStuart were invited from England, and they went toParis for this purpose in January, 1877.

157

The members of the commission were not whollyof one mind on all points, and it was rather a severeexercise of brain and memory to meet and satisfythe various questions of a company of quick-witted,logical Frenchmen. It was an exercise however,which left one feeling stronger and happier, becauseof the sincerity of motive which we felt animatedthe questioners.

Some days after giving our evidence a greatmeeting was held in the Salle des Écoles, Rue d’Arras.The hall was densely crowded. There was a considerableproportion of “blue blouses,” working men fromSt. Antoine and Belleville quarters, students fromthe Latin quarter, and some members of theChambers and of the Senate, besides MunicipalCouncillors. There was also a good attendance ofwomen. The several addresses given were listenedto with extraordinary attention and interest, and ina quietness which was remarkable considering themercurial and excitable nature of a portion of thataudience. So keen was the sympathy (having itsroots deep in bitter experience) of the poorer partof the audience, especially the working men, that itwas necessary in some degree to restrain all that itmight have been in our hearts to say on the injusticeand cruelty of the system of which the victims weredrawn so largely from their own ranks.

Another large meeting was held in the Salle dela Redoute, which was crowded with respectableworking women. With the memory of all I had seenand heard in Paris of the condition of the honestworking woman, hunted from street to street andfrom room to room by the police, and looking at the158troubled and earnest faces all turned towards me, Icould not refrain from uttering these words: “Thefoxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests,but the honest workwoman of Paris has not where tolay her head.” Many burst into tears, or hid theirfaces in their hands. In coming out from the meeting,several poor girls came to me, their faces swollen withweeping, and said, “Ah, madam, how true thosewords were about the foxes!”

The Federation had met for its first annualconference in London in 1876, and from that timeit has held annual conferences in various citiesabroad or in England; the meeting every third yearbeing called a congress, and being of a larger and moreimportant character. The first congress, at Geneva,is described in the following letter.

To a relative.

Geneva, September, 1877.

I can only give you a brief sketch of the pastweek; full reports will be published. The anxietywhich we could not but feel went on augmenting upto Friday. On Friday we began to see daylight, andall has ended well. Many of us are tired and stupefiedfor want of sleep, but at the same time inwardlygiving thanks to God.

This Congress has been a wonderful event. Therewere 510 inscribed members, besides the numerouspublic which attended the meetings. It is, they say,the largest Congress that has ever been held inGeneva. On the first days people continued flockingin from all nations. There were Greeks who camefrom Athens, and Russians from St. Petersburg and159Moscow. There were Americans, Belgians, Dutch,Danes, Germans, Pomeranians, Italians, French andSpaniards. Señor Zorilla, the late President of theSpanish Cortes, spoke on Wednesday, and wasnominated as one of a committee to consider whataction should be taken in Spain. On Sunday, in thecathedral, Pastor Rœrich preached a powerfulsermon to a very large congregation on the questionbefore the Congress, and in all the churches we andour work have been prayed for.

We always anticipated that when the final resolutionsshould come to be voted upon then would bethe real war, and so it was. When the voting began,our faithful bands of ladies worked and watched intheir different sections quite splendidly. First wehad a considerable conflict in the Social EconomySection. Then came the voting in the LegislativeSection, in the smaller hall of the Reformation,which was densely crowded. Professor Hornungpresided. The discussion lasted three hours. Somelawyers were present, who are now busy in theprospect of the revision of some parts of the penalcode of Switzerland, notably a young jurist, an ableman who spoke well, but as a downright opponent.There followed a stormy scene, which the Presidentwith difficulty controlled. People of many differentlanguages stood up at the same moment, each with afinger stretched out, demanding to speak. “Jedemande la parole” sounded from all sides of theroom. Mr. A——, the young jurist, made thePresident indignant by asserting that a resolutiondrawn up by him was not juridique. Seeing thatM. Hornung is Professor of Jurisprudence at the160Geneva University, and possesses the very highestreputation, this was rather strong, and I do notwonder it irritated him. But it did good, for itstimulated him to come out on the last day of theCongress with a splendid judicial speech, by far thebest and clearest utterance of the kind I have everheard in any country. We shall translate andcirculate it. Hornung is a delightful man. He hasthat good gift of God, an enlightened intellect, as wellas a pure heart, together with great refinement andgentleness of manner. At one o’clock, when we wereall feeling the need of food, and our throats were drywith the dust of the room, an Italian advocate got upand declared there had not yet been enough discussionof each point. The chairman was aghast. Hehad expected the voting to be got over just at thatmoment. A kind of barking, House of Commonscry arose of “Vote, vote!” while the President stoodopen-mouthed, attempting to read the resolutions soas to be heard. A sort of stampede seized some ofthe German and Swiss members, and they made forthe door. Half the meeting would have gone out,and so damaged the worth of the voting. So Iventured to shut the door and set my back againstit, declaring that no one should have any food untilhe had voted! This half startled and half amusedthe assembly, and they all sat down again obediently.After another half-hour of discussion, it was agreedthat we should meet again for a final voting at half-pastsix the next morning.

On the same day the resolutions of the MoralSection were passed very satisfactorily. Then camethe Hygienic Section. The discussion here was so161long that it was also adjourned until an evening hour.At eight o’clock that evening we all went to the hallof the Hygienic Section, and there sat crowdedtogether, or stood, amidst a scene of intense interest,till midnight. Dr. Bertani of Rome took a leadingpart. Our ladies all went to the meeting; but theyhad been up so early, and had worked so hard all day,that by 11.0 p.m. this is the scene which one of mysons described as having observed at the back of thehall, “a long row of ladies all sound asleep”; but theyhad appointed a watcher—Mrs. Bright Lucas—who satat the end of the row, and whom they had chargedto keep awake, and to give them the signal whenevervoting began on each clause of the resolution.Mrs. Lucas was wide awake, with eyes shining likelive coals! We had prayed that God would directthis meeting, and it was wonderful and beautiful tosee how the truth prevailed. Dr. de la Harpe, thePresident, acted well throughout. At the end Ishook hands with him and Dr. Ladame, thankingthem for their excellent words. Dr. de la Harpereplied, “You owe us nothing; it is you and yourfriends who must be thanked, who have brought usso much light.”

At the end of the Congress all the resolutions cameout satisfactorily. We owe a good deal of this resultto Professor Stuart’s tact and patience in talking tothe different presidents individually. We think ourresolutions are on the whole excellent as a statementof principles—clear and uncompromising;and shall we not thank God for this? His hand hasbeen over us for good all this time, convincing men’shearts and consciences, and controlling their words162and actions. The earnest daily prayers offered uphave not been in vain. These resolutions will besent to every Government and to every municipalcouncil throughout Europe. They have been telegraphedto the English press in extenso. My sonGeorge was charged with the work of telegraphing,and had necessarily to exercise much alertness andactivity. M. Humbert is impressed with the excellenceof whatever work he undertakes.

In the Legislative Section we had an energeticdiscussion over the seduction laws of differentcountries, and the recherche de la paternité, subjectsnot immediately in our programme, but closelytouching it. The discussion became so hot, that itseemed difficult for some of the members to remaincalm at all. Signora Mozzoni, a delegate fromMilan, burst into tears over it, and one or two of ourgood gentlemen lost their tempers a little. Onecannot wonder, for this is one of the importantquestions upon which people of different nations andcreeds hold very different views. Miss Isabella Todand Mrs. Sheldon Amos took a line on the point ofthe age to which protection should be given, in whichI could not quite follow them, and I felt obliged foronce to oppose my own countrywomen. ProfessorHornung was pleased with what I said, as it seems itaccorded with the views of most continental jurists.

The young advocate who had opposed us calledyesterday to say that he had come round to ourviews, chiefly influenced by that desperate littleimpromptu legal discussion among the ladies. Hehad imagined, he said, that we were a number of“fanatical and sentimental women,” but163 “when heheard women arguing like jurists, and even takingpart against each other, and yet with perfect goodtemper, like men (!), he began to see that we weregrave, educated, and even scientific people!” Hecame afterwards to every meeting, and, as he said,weighed all our words.

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

Josephine Butler published in 1878 a biography ofCatharine of Siena. A French translation of this waspublished nine years later at Neuchâtel. Mr. Gladstonewrote to George Butler, expressing his intenseinterest in the book, and adding: “It is evident thatMrs. Butler is on the level of her subject, and it isa very high level. To say this is virtually saying all.Her reply (by anticipation) to those who scoff downthe visions is, I think, admirable.” We give but onequotation.

Here I must pause to speak of that great secret ofCatharine’s spiritual life, the constant converse ofher soul with God. Her book, entitled The Dialogue,represents a conversation between a soul and God,mysterious and perhaps meaningless to many, butto those who can understand full of revelation ofthe source of her power over human hearts. Allthrough her autobiography (for such her Dialogueand Letters may be called) no expressions occur morefrequently than such as these: “The Lord said tome,” &c.; “My God told me to act so and so”;“While I was praying, my Saviour showed me themeaning of this, and spoke thus to me.” I shall not164attempt to explain, nor shall I alter this simple formof speech. It is not for us to limit the possibilities ofthe communications and revelations, which theEternal may be pleased to make to a soul, whichcontinually waits upon Him. If you are disposed,reader, to doubt the fact of these communicationsfrom God, or to think that Catharine only fanciedsuch and such things, and attributed these fancies toa divine source, then I would give you one word ofadvice, and one only: go you and make the attemptto live a life of prayer, such as she lived, and then,and not till then, will you be in a position which willgive you any shadow of a right, or any power, tojudge of this soul’s dealings with God.

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CHAPTER XI.
GOVERNMENT BY POLICE.

In 1879 her writings included two pamphlets,Government by Police and Social Purity, the latterbeing an address delivered at Cambridge. Thisyear the Federation held its Conference at Liége. Abright and vivid account of the meetings at Liége,from the skilful pen of Madame de Morsier, is givenin the Reminiscences of a Great Crusade, which showsthat these annual gatherings of crusaders fromvarious countries were not wholly devoted to seriousdiscussions of a painful subject, but became occasionsfor true human fellowship (even touched with gaiety)between persons of divers tastes and experiences.The account concludes thus: “And now, littletown of Belgium, sitting on the banks of the Meuse,surrounded with green hills, let me take one partinglook at you! We have only known you a few days,and now you live in our memories a luminous pointin the past. Many of us arrived within your wallsstrangers to each other, and have parted friends;some arrived sorrowful, discouraged, asking whatwould be the end of all this? They return peaceful,and fortified with the conviction that work is happiness,and conflict a duty. Manet alta menterepostum.”

The agitation in Paris against the Police desmœurs, referred to in the last chapter, had beencontinued, and led this year to the resignation ofM. Lecour, who was appointed chief “bell-ringer”of Notre Dame; and this was followed by further166enquiries and newspaper revelations, and the subsequentresignation of the Prefect of Police and othermembers of his staff, and later of the Minister of theInterior. In these events M. Yves Guyot and othermembers of the French branch of the Federationtook a prominent part. Early in 1880 Mr. AlfredDyer and Mr. George Gillett visited Brussels toinvestigate cases of English girls, many of whomwere minors, alleged to be detained in the licensedhouses of that city against their will, and with theconnivance of the police. Some of these girls wererescued, and being brought to England, were placedunder the care of Josephine Butler.

Another of the poor refugees helped by PastorAnet to escape from Brussels came to our housein Liverpool. She appeared to be in pain, and onbeing questioned she replied that she was sufferingfrom unhealed stripes on her back and shouldersfrom the lash of this tyrant.

I drew from her, when alone, the story of hermartyrdom. The keeper of this house in Brussels,enraged with her because of her persistent refusalto participate in some exceptionally base proceedingsamong his clients, had her carried to an undergroundchamber, whence her cries could not be heard. Shewas here immured and starved, and several timesscourged with a thong of leather. But she did notyield. This poor delicate girl had been neglectedfrom childhood. She was a Catholic, but had hadlittle or no religious teaching. She told me, withmuch simplicity, that in the midst of these torturesshe was167 “all the time strengthened and comfortedby the thought that Jesus had Himself been cruellyscourged, and that He could feel for her.”

Before her capture she had one day seen in ashop window in Brussels an engraving of Christbefore Pilate, bound and scourged. Some persons,no doubt, may experience a little shock of horror atthe idea of any connection in the thoughts of thispoor child between the supreme agony of the Sonof God and her own torments in the cellar of thathouse of debauchery. We often sincerely mournover these victims as “lost” because we cannot reachthem with any word of love or the “glad evangel.”But He “descended into hell,” into the abode ofthe “spirits in prison,” to speak to them; and Ibelieve, and have had many testimonies to the fact,that He visits spiritually these young souls in theirearthly prison many a time, He alone, in all Hismajesty of pity, without any intervention of ours.

Josephine Butler published in May a statementmaking definite charges of gross ill-treatment ofyoung girls in Brussels, and these charges weresubstantiated in a deposition on oath, made inresponse to a formal application from the Belgianauthorities, under the Extradition Act. Somemonths later she sent a copy of her deposition to theeditor of Le National in Brussels, intending it merelyto be used in connection with evidence, which he hadto give before a Commission then sitting on thesubject. 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 thisI felt a little troubled, and as if I had been “givenaway.” Also persons friendly to us, such as Lambillon,Hendrick and others, who had given us168information from a good motive, were angry atseeing their names published as having had anyknowledge whatever of these evil things; and I waspained to think of their pain.

I was pondering all this one evening, when Isuddenly recollected that on New Year’s Day ofthis year, and for many days after, I had taken uponme to make a special and definite request to Godfor light to fall upon these “dark places of the earth,wherein are the inhabitants of cruelty.” Somestrong influence seemed to urge me to make thisrequest. I used to kneel and pray, “O God, Ibeseech Thee, send light upon these evil deeds!Whatever it may cost us and others, flash light intothese abodes of darkness. O send us light, forwithout it there can be no destruction of the evil.We cannot make war against a hidden foe. In thedarkness these poor sisters of ours, these creaturesof Thine, are daily murdered, and we do not knowwhat to do or where to turn, and we find no way bywhich to begin to act. Send us light, O our God,even though it may be terrible to bear.” I hadmade a record of this petition, and then I hadforgotten it. But not so our faithful God. Hismemory 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 slowof heart to believe.” Here is the very thing I hadasked for, brought about in a way I had notdreamed of.

One consequence of these revelations was thedismissal of M. Lenaers, the Chief of the Brussels169Police des mœurs, followed by the resignation of hisprincipal subordinate. Another consequence wasthe formation of a strong committee in London forthe suppression of the white slave traffic. Theproposals of this committee in regard to legislationwere ultimately adopted in that portion of theCriminal Law Amendment Act, 1885, which dealswith offences connected with other countries. Thematter was still further advanced many years later,largely owing to the efforts of Mr. W. A. Coote, bythe Governments of Europe signing the InternationalConvention for the suppression of the white slavetraffic, 1904. This Convention has no doubt donesomething towards the suppression of this traffic,but as Josephine Butler frequently pointed out, andas was emphasised in the discussions at the Conferenceof the Federation in 1908, there is a graverisk, that in those countries, in which the authoritiesstill license immoral houses, the police will nothonestly and thoroughly endeavour to prevent thetraffic upon which the profits of those houses solargely depend.

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CHAPTER XII.
REPEAL.

In the spring of 1882 George Butler resigned thePrincipalship of Liverpool College, and three monthslater Mr. Gladstone appointed him to a Canonry atWinchester. This year Josephine Butler publishedThe Life of Jean Frederic Oberlin, the gentle andbeloved Pastor of the Ban de la Roche (1740-1826),who not only ministered to his people in thingsspiritual, but also in things material, teaching themto make roads and to grow potatoes. Like JohnGrey, he changed the whole aspect of the countryside, and in his old age his great services wererecognised by the award to him of the gold medalof the Royal Agricultural Society of France, and bythe King bestowing on him the dignity of Chevalierof the Legion of Honour. The following passageillustrates the great principle of his life—ora etlabora.

In our own busy and exciting times, whencompetition (even in good works) is apt to distractand disturb the heart and the brain of the followersof Christ, to the detriment of calmness and depth,we all require to be reminded of the one and onlysource of true life and power. Our young, hard-workedministers, and many other Christian workers,both old and young, engaged in the multitudinousactive duties which they are required in these daysto fulfil to the last tittle, and in favour of which171they too often postpone even the work of waitingupon God, know by bitter experience the deadeningeffect on the soul of the enforced whirl of activeengagements—benevolent, pious, and laudable asthese may be. But by whom are these chainsenforced, to the disadvantage of the spiritual life?By the tyrant society—even a Christian society,which can in its turn become tyrannical. It wouldbe better to rebel somewhat against this tyranny,to resist the pressure of over-work, and to determineto be often alone with God, even if our hours withHim appeared to rob earth of a small particle of ourpoor services.

Bernard of Clairvaux, when engaged in acorrespondence with persons and orders throughoutthe whole of Europe, battling single-handed with anamount of work which might overwhelm anymodern Secretary of State, found that on the dayswhen he spent the most time in prayer, and inlistening to the voice of God and the teachings ofthe Spirit, his letters were the most rapidly writtenand persuasive, and his active work the mostpromptly and successively accomplished. His manyschemes, evolved from his own ingenious brain,widened into or were lost in the far greater planand purpose of God; anxiety was allayed; power—thepower of the Holy Spirit, to which he hadopened his heart—flowed forth, and was felt in everyword he wrote or spoke, and in his very presenceand looks.

Oberlin reserved stated hours for private prayerduring the day, at which times none, as a rule, werepermitted to interrupt him. These hours came to be172known to all his parishioners, and it was usual forcarters or labourers, returning from the fields withtalk and laughter, to uncover their heads as theypassed beneath the walls of his house. If the childrenran by too noisily these working people would checkthem with uplifted finger, and say, “Hush! He ispraying for us.” At times his soul was moved toan agony of intercession for his people; he travailedin birth for them. Sometimes he was in darknesson their account. His natural kindness to allbecoming, under the influence of the Holy Spirit,a constant and yearning desire for their salvation,he would spend hours on his knees pouring out hissoul in prayer for them with “strong crying andtears.” He felt the awful nature of the responsibilityof one who is called to be an overseer of theflock of God, and who must give an account of thesouls committed to him. “Oh, my people, mypeople, my children, my friends!” he would cry inhis prayers—apostrophising them, and pleadingwith them as well as for them, though he was alonewith God.

In 1883 Josephine Butler published the remarkablestory of The Salvation Army in Switzerland, tellinghow the workers of the Army in Geneva had attractedsome of the poor slaves of the State-protectedhouses, who “escaped or succeeded in obtainingrelease, and once more in the light of day, theylistened to the glad tidings of salvation;” and howthe keepers of these houses, “like the sellers of theshrines of Diana, fearing that the hope of their gainswas threatened,” secured bands of roughs, whodisturbed the Army’s meetings, until at last theauthorities, being unable or unwilling to keep order,173expelled Miss Catherine Booth and Miss Charlesworthfrom Geneva as disturbers of the peace!Later Miss Booth was imprisoned at Neuchâtel,but was released after a trial at which the illegalityof her treatment was exposed. She was howevershortly after expelled from the Canton; but despitepersecution the Army has since prospered inSwitzerland.

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

To her son Stanley.

February 27th, 1883.

We have had some hard work lately. Fatherand I went to Cambridge for a quiet Sunday. Itwas 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 comingon of our question in the House. A Member ofParliament, whom we met at Cambridge, told usthat the amount of pressure brought to bear at thismoment by the country was, he thought, “unprecedentedin the history of any agitation.” Our friendsare active in every nook and corner of the country:even from remote villages petitions come pouring in.Also many single petitions, such as from CardinalManning and the Moderator of the Free Church ofScotland. Mr. Hopwood told us that several M.P.’scame to him yesterday, and said they must votewith us, though before they had been hostile. “Itis a strange thing,” said one, “that people care so muchabout this question. All my leading constituentshave urged me to vote with you.” One of our174strongest opponents, a military man, said to him,“Well, you have had extraordinary support fromthe country; it is evident that yours is the winningside.”

I was in the Lobby a few days ago, and saw apetition lying in someone’s hand, on the back ofwhich was written: “Petition from 1553 inhabitantsof West Ham.” You know that these are poorworking fathers and mothers, some of whom havelately had their children stolen. They have had lessthan a week to collect these names. These silentfigures are eloquent. There is a distinct change oftone in the House, and your father and I believethat it dates from the time that we came forwardpublicly to confess God as our leader. Our causewas openly baptised, so to speak, in the name ofChrist, and our advance has been steady ever since.Also I thought I saw what I never observed beforein the sceptical and worldly atmosphere of Parliament,i.e. signs of a consciousness of a spiritualstrife going on. Some members spoke to us of thespiritual power in our movement, while on the otherhand there is a seething and boiling of unworthypassions, such as would appal one if one did notremember that it was when the great Incarnationof purity drew near to the “possessed” man of oldthat the “unclean spirits” cried out.

To return to my story. Some of our friends inParliament telegraphed to us at Cambridge that nodebate would come on, on account of the arrearsof talk on the Address. This is disappointing.Mr. W. E. Forster’s management of Irish affairsnecessitates much discussion.

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We have arranged for a great meeting for prayer.We shall hold it close to the House of Commonsduring the whole debate, if there is one, and allnight if the debate lasts all night. We have invitedabout twenty of our best friends in the House tojoin us. This meeting has been advertised inThe Times, The Standard and Daily News. Some ofour parliamentary friends counselled this course,saying that it was well that all the world shouldknow with what weapons and in whose name wemake war, even if they scoff at the idea, as of coursemany do.

To her son.

February 28th, 1883.

We went to the House at four o’clock yesterday.Justin McCarthy was speaking. There was still tothe last a chance of Mr. Hopwood’s resolutioncoming on, but perhaps not till midnight. I didnot remain in the Ladies’ Gallery, but came and wentfrom 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 tosit down by Mr. Hopwood and say, “Now tell mewhat I can do to help you to-night, for the thingour Newcastle electors were most persistent aboutwas that I should oppose this legislation.” I thenwent to the Westminster Palace Hotel, where wehad taken a large room for our devotional meeting.There were well-dressed ladies, some even of highrank, kneeling together (almost side by side) withthe poorest, and some of the outcast women of thepurlieus of Westminster. Many were weeping, butwhen I first went in they were singing, and I never176heard a sweeter sound. There were some cultivatedvoices amongst them, and the hymns were wellchosen. I felt ready to cry, but I did not; for Ilong ago rejected the old ideal of the “division oflabour,” that “men must work and women mustweep.” A venerable lady from America rose andsaid, “Tears are good, prayers are better, but weshould get on better if behind every tear there wasa vote at the ballot box.” Every soul in that roomresponded to that sentiment. I never saw a meetingmore moved. The occasion and the circ*mstanceswere certainly pathetic. As we continued to praywe all felt, I think, a great pity come into ourhearts for those men who were at that moment inthe House so near to us, who wield so great aresponsibility, and so many of whom will have asad account to give of their use of it.

Charles Parker told me next day that at thattime 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 theladies were to hold a prayer meeting to-night topray for us? But I suppose it is given up, as thisdebate is to be postponed.” Mr. Parker, betterinformed, said, “On the contrary, that is just whatthey are doing now, praying for us. It throws agreat responsibility on us.” The young men, he said,looked very grave. Father had to return home,I went back to the House, while other womenremained and continued their intercessions. AllWestminster was wrapped in a haze, out of whichglared only the great light on the clock tower. Iwalked through the mist, feeling rather sad, and177wondering how much longer this horrible yokewould remain fastened on the neck of a people whowish to get rid of it, and how long women will berefused a voice in the representation of the country.I climbed up the wearisome gallery stairs, and fromthe grating saw a crowd of our gentlemen friends fromthe country sitting in the Strangers’ Gallery opposite.How patiently they sat through those long hours.Some of them had come even from Scotland forthe purpose. Father had gone home, but just abovethe 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 ontill midnight for the chance of our resolution comingon. By and by Mr. Hopwood asked the Speaker’sleave to make a statement. He then made a verygood speech, explaining, rather to the country thanto the House, how it was he was prevented frombringing on his resolution, and saying thatParliament and the Government should have nopeace on the question, for the country was aroused,and nothing could lessen their present determination.He called them to witness to the needless waste oftime there had been in talking and recriminationsbefore midnight. Mr. Trevelyan told me he thoughtour opponents had purposely prolonged the debateon the Address.

I must tell you that just in the second hour ofour prayers your telegram was handed to me. Ithought it was some business, and was pleasantlysurprised when I saw it was from St. Andrews, sofar off, and yet it brought you so near, and just at amoment when it was peculiarly precious to me.

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After another half hour at the meeting, Ireturned once more to the Lobby of the House,and found some of our friends waiting about. Theytook me out on the terrace along the river front. Thefog had cleared away, and it was very calm underthe starlit sky. All the bustle of the city was stilled,and the only sound was that of the dark waterlapping against the buttresses of the broad stoneterrace, the water into which so many despairingwomen have flung themselves.

I forgot to tell you that before the debatebegan I ventured into the circular hall or lobby nextto the House itself, having caught sight of thevenerable face of old Mr. Whitwell. He rememberedme, and shook hands. I stood near him in a corner,as if he had taken me under his protection. Thefirst word he said to me was, “Has it ever struck youthat there is no one thing in the whole of Christ’sdiscourses to which He has given such emphasisas that of the certainty of prayer being answered?Now you may be sure our persevering prayers willbe answered in this matter.” I saw several otherfriends, among them your member, Mr. Williamson,who said, “Tell your son that I have presented hispetition from St. Andrews, and that I support theprayer of it with all my heart.” I am glad to tellyou Albert Grey and Robert Reid, father’s old pupilat Cheltenham, are with us on the question. I metCardinal Manning in the Lobby, and had a pleasanttalk with him. He is much in earnest about all goodmovements. He has been ill, and looked even thinnerthan a spider! He said he would do all he could forus, through his influence, on the Irish Catholic vote.

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On April 20th Mr. Stansfeld moved the resolutioncondemning compulsory examination, which Mr.Hopwood had been prevented from bringing on inFebruary, and it was carried by 182 votes to 110.In accordance with this resolution, the Governmentsuspended the operation of the Acts in the followingmonth.

To her sister in Naples.

Winchester, April, 1883.

Some day I trust I shall be able to tell you indetail of the events of the last few days. I longedfor your presence during the debate; it was for us avery solemn time. All day long groups had met forprayer—some in the houses of M.P.‘s, some inchurches, some in halls, where the poorest peoplecame. Meetings were being held also all over thekingdom, and telegraphic messages of sympathycame to us continually from Scotland and Ireland,France, and Switzerland and Italy. There was somethingin the air like the approach of victory. As menand women prayed they suddenly burst forth intopraise, thanking God for the answer, as if it hadalready been granted. It was a long debate. Thetone of the speeches, both for and against, wasremarkably purified, and with one exception theywere altogether on a higher plane than in formerdebates. Many of us ladies sat through the wholeevening till after midnight; then came the division.A few minutes previously Mr. Gerard, the steward ofthe Ladies’ Gallery, crept quietly in and whisperedto me, “I think you are going to win!” Thatreserved official, of course, never betrays sympathy180with any party; nevertheless, I could see theirrepressible pleasure in his face when he said this.

Never can I forget the expression on the faces ofour M.P.’s in the House when they all streamed backfrom the division lobby. The interval during theirabsence had seemed very long, and we could heareach other’s breathing, so deep was the silence. Wedid not require to wait to hear the announcement ofthe division by the tellers: the faces of our friendstold the tale. Slowly and steadily they pressed in,headed by Mr. Stansfeld and Mr. Hopwood, thetellers on our side. Mr. Fowler’s face was beamingwith joy and a kind of humble triumph. I thought ofthe words: “Say unto Jerusalem that her warfare isaccomplished.” It was a victory of righteousnessover gross selfishness, injustice, and deceit, and forthe moment we were all elevated by it. When thefigures were given out a long-continued cheer arose,which sounded like a psalm of praise. Then we ranquickly down from the gallery, and met a number ofour friends coming out from Westminster Hall.

It was half-past one in the morning, and the starswere shining in a clear sky. I felt at that silent hourin the morning in the spirit of the Psalmist, who said:“When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zionwe were like unto them that dream.” It almostseemed like a dream.

When Mr. Cavendish Bentinck was speakingagainst us I noticed an expression of pain on Mr.Gladstone’s face. He seemed to be pretending to reada letter, but at last passed his hand over his eyes andleft the House. He returned before Mr. Stansfeld madehis noble speech, to which he listened attentively.

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Later in the year she referred to this victory ina speech at Birmingham, which was printed under thetitle The Bright Side of the Question, and from whichwe quote the two following paragraphs.

I will say then to the women here one word.Dear women, I recall a scene; you will understandme. The night of the memorable debate in April,lasting many hours, there were meetings of womennot far from the House of Commons—a crowd ofwomen upon their knees through a great part of thenight. I crept out of the House of Commons, whereI was in the Ladies’ Gallery, and joined those meetingsfor a few moments. It was a sight I shall neverforget. At one meeting there were the poorest, mostragged and miserable women from the slums ofWestminster on their knees before the God of hosts,with tears and groans pouring out the burden oftheir sad hearts. He alone knew what that burdenwas. There were mothers who had lost daughters;there were sad-hearted women; and side by side withthese poor souls, dear to God as we are, there wereladies of high rank, in their splendid dresses—Christianladies of the upper classes kneeling and alsoweeping. I thank God for this wonderful andbeautiful solidarity of the women of the world beforeGod. Women are called to be a great power in thefuture, and by this terrible blow which fell upon us,forcing us to leave our privacy and bind ourselvestogether for our less fortunate sisters, we have passedthrough an education—a noble education. God hasprepared in us, in the women of the world, a force forall future causes which are great and just.

We shall not stop, our efforts will not cease182when this particular struggle is at an end. God hascalled us out, and we must not go back from anywarfare to which He shall now call us in the future.We praise, we thank Him for what He has donealready for us, and for what He is going to do, for weshall one day have a complete victory. We can echothe words of that which is written: “My soul dothmagnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in Godmy Saviour, for He hath regarded the low estate ofHis handmaidens.” And remember, women, if weare faithful unto death, from henceforth all men shallcall us blessed. Yes, generations to come, yourchildren and your children’s children will call youblessed, because you have laboured for purer moralsand for juster laws.

The actual repeal of the laws was retarded, and webegan to feel in 1885 that we must make strenuousefforts. There had been on several occasions solemnmeetings of a devotional character on the question,notably one which lasted several days, and where allthe churches were represented. This was promotedby the Society of Friends. An “All Day of Prayer”was called in February, 1885. A paper was issuedin advance, giving the subjects to which each succeedinghour would especially be devoted.

During the year which followed this meetingJames Stuart worked with all his heart and might inParliament for the success of our cause. I believethat the Cabinet were rather surprised when a petitionwas presented to them by him, signed by two hundredMembers of Parliament on both sides of the House,adjuring the Government to give immediate attention183to this question, as the patience of the people ofEngland had been sufficiently tried.

At the General Election this year, JosephineButler issued A Woman’s Appeal to the Electors,some extracts from which are here given.

By whom are we in future to be governed?Women are asking this question on the eve of theapproaching elections, even more anxiously, Ibelieve, than men; more anxiously, because theythemselves are still denied the right and power ofexpressing by their votes their opinion of the candidateswho are crowding forward asking to be allowedto represent them in Parliament, and to have a sharein making the laws by which they and their children,their households, and even their nurseries, are in futureto be influenced for good or for evil. As a woman,I am deeply thankful that at last the question ofprivate and personal character is coming to the frontin the selection of our representatives. I hope theday is past in which it could be said or believed thatit was possible for a man who was corrupt in hisprivate life and character to be a useful, just, orbeneficent ruler. Who can reckon up the miseries,the wrongs, the soul murders, and the destructionof young lives which have been going on for yearspast, owing in a great measure to the shameful stateof our laws on questions bearing on morality, thatshameful state being obstinately maintained year byyear by men in Parliament whose very presence thereis a block to all good and pure measures?

I would suggest that each candidate should beasked questions in some such form as the following:—

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(1) Will he vote for the total repeal of the C.D.Acts?

(2) Is he prepared to vote for a parliamentaryenquiry into the reason why the prosecution ofMrs. Jeffries was dropped, and why InspectorMinahan was dismissed from the police force?

(3) Is he prepared to vote for, or to ask a questionin Parliament on the subject of a parliamentaryenquiry as to the circ*mstances which have inducedthe prosecution by the Treasury of Mr. Stead, Mr.Booth, and their assistants, to whose labours theCriminal Law Amendment Act has been mainly due;while no prosecution has been undertaken by theTreasury against any single one of the real offenders,whose crimes these persons have done so much toexpose?

We may, and do hope for a purer Parliament, ifthe electors will wake up to the tremendous issuesnow before this country, issues immeasurablygreater than those depending on the triumph of thisor that political party; but when we shall havesecured a purer Parliament, the struggle for apurified nation and a saved people will only be at itsbeginning. Unless God by the might of His HolySpirit works powerfully and widely in the hearts ofour people—in our own hearts, each one of us—weshall not be saved as a people in the mighty shakingof the nations which is at hand. The diseases of ourown hearts and of our social system, if but slightlyhealed, will break forth again; moral corruption willset in again like a flood-tide; the noble watchwordsof to-day will become the rotten and wretchedShibboleths of to-morrow; we shall have185 “a nameto live while we are dead.” For my part, I have notan atom of faith in any reform, moral, social, orpolitical, which has not at its root a real repentancebefore God, a ruthless banishing from the heart andlife by individuals of all that is opposed to justice,purity, and holiness, and a quickening of everypower of the soul by the breath of the Spirit of God.Christian politicians, lovers of our country, let us,while we work, also pray—unitedly pray—that Godwill arise and, taking our nation in hand, will chasten,train, and mould it for the carrying out of His ownpurposes in the future of the world.

The actual repeal of this legislation was carried inApril, 1886. My husband and I were at the timestaying with my sister in Naples. It was a great joyto us to receive a telegram on April 16th, signed byMr. Stuart and Mr. Stansfeld, saying: “The RoyalAssent has this day been given to the Repeal Bill.”I thanked God at that moment that Queen Victoriahad washed her hands of a stain which she hadunconsciously contracted in the first endorsem*nt ofthis legislation.

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CHAPTER XIII.
WINCHESTER.

We again visited Grindelwald (in 1885), where wehad the joy of meeting once more the Meuricoffrefamily. We had magnificent weather, favourableto mountain and glacier excursions. The nightswere especially beautiful towards September, whenthere was a fine display of autumn meteors. It wasmy turn on this occasion to be obliged to hurry home,leaving my husband for a little longer enjoyment ofthe mountains. I was called home in order to advisein the matter of the action of our poor protégée,Rebecca Jarrett, who had been engaged by Mr.Stead to help him in his difficult researches. Twoyears previously we had opened at Winchester, aswe had done at Liverpool, a little House of Rest,which served as a shelter for poor girls and youngwomen who were recognised failures, morally andphysically. Some were sick, rejected by hospitalsas incurable; others friendless, betrayed and ruined,judged for one reason or another not quite suitablefor other homes or refuges. We also took into theHouse of Rest however a few persons of more matureage, not invalids, who had fallen into trouble andmisfortune, and who sometimes became excellenthelpers in our work. Among these latter was thewoman I have mentioned, who had put behind her187and abjured her miserable past, and who showedmuch intelligence and tenderness as our aid in thework of rescue. The task however to which she wasinvited in London was of a different kind, and tooheavy a responsibility for her. Hence the summonsI received to come home and support her, and alsoin part to answer for her conduct, as she had beenliving with us.

It will be remembered that Mr. Stead and RebeccaJarrett were tried on a charge of abduction, andsentenced to imprisonment. At the trial this poorwoman, being cross-examined about her past life,told an untruth, and this was used by the prosecutingcounsel as discrediting her whole evidence, with theresult that the case against her and Mr. Steadwas greatly damaged. Early in 1886 JosephineButler published the story of Rebecca Jarrett, inorder“to present the exact truth about her in justiceto herself, and to Mr. Stead, for whom she acted;and also to give some incidents of personal history,which may tend not only to palliate these departuresfrom truth, of which she was guilty, but to show thatthe situation in which she was placed was pathetic—eventragic—and one from which there was, humanlyspeaking, no escape.” She tells how before thetrial some old associates, fearing what Rebecca mightreveal concerning them, had gone down to her atWinchester, and pursued her with appeals andthreats; and how she, after earnestly entreatingthem to lead a better life, had given them a solemnpromise that she would not get them into trouble;and then how, under severe cross-examination inthe court——

She answered truly as far as she could, until itcame to the giving of an address which would have188involved others in trouble. Then there flashed acrossher the promise made in her evil days, and thepromise made later from better motives, under hernew character. There rose afresh in her mind thedesire that those to whom she had given her promiseshould see that a reclaimed woman would not breakher word. She was standing between two oaths—thefirst, made to her old friends; the second,made in the witness-box, to speak “nothing but thetruth.” Reader, were you ever in such a position—betweentwo solemn promises, both of which youdesired to keep, but which were opposed the one tothe other? If you ever were, you can feel for thisweak young convert to truth, and you can pity herweakness. Yes, she told a lie. She looked acrossthe Court at me with an expression on her pale facewhich I shall never forget. That night, on returningto her lodgings, she spent several hours on her knees,weeping as if her heart would break; no word ofconsolation availed for her. It was in vain to try tocomfort her. She cried, and screamed to God,“OGod, I have told a lie; I have perjured myself in thewitness-box; I have lied before the world; I haveruined this cause, and I have got all my kind friendsinto trouble! And yet, O God, Thou knowest whyI did it—oh, Thou knowest why I did it. Look intomy heart; Thou knowest why I did it!”

To a friend.

April 10th, 1886.

Last Sunday we had a delightful day at Pozzuoli,where Sir William Armstrong is establishing greatironworks for making ironclads for the ItalianGovernment. He has sent out from England some189forty or fifty picked men. They are all Northumbrians,and choice men in every respect for bodilystrength and high character. They are also triedand skilled workmen. Mr. Stephen Burrowes, mysister’s helper in her work for the sailors, suggestedthat a Workmen’s Rest or Home for our Englishworkmen and others should be established at once atPozzuoli. Our party went in five or six opencarriages to Pozzuoli—all the Meuricoffre family andothers of the Swiss and Protestant community ofNaples. Our dedicatory service presented a curiouscombination of associations of different centuries andvarious countries. The spot where we assembledwas close to the ruined Temple of Serapis. It wasalso in the near neighbourhood of the large Romanamphitheatre of the times of Tiberius. Before uswas the sea, its gentle waves beating on the shore—theshore, as you know, where St. Paul first landed inEurope, a prisoner, on his way to Rome. Oppositewas Baiæ, where Nero held his infernal court—itselflovely and peaceful in appearance—and Capri, thesharp outline of whose steep rock, whence Tiberiusused to fling his slaves headlong into the sea as anafter-dinner amusem*nt, stood clear against the pureblue sky. This whole neighbourhood has all its oldentrancing charm still, and that wonderful beautywhich made it of old the last resort of people satiatedwith every other form of luxury. It was the ideal ofa summer Sabbath evening. My husband offered upa dedicatory prayer, invoking the blessing of God onthe design which we had come to inaugurate, onevery workman who should work there, and on thedear Meuricoffres and all who work with them for the190good of the people around them. He alluded in hisprayer to the advent in that very place of the greatapostle of the Gentiles, charged with the preciousgift for Europe—the Gospel of our salvation. Thenwe sang hymns, some of the old favourites of theEnglish workmen. It was strange to hear thosefamiliar songs, pronounced with the strong Northumbrianguttural, ascending from the ruins of theTemple of Serapis—a blending of associations pastand present, heathen and Christian, ancient andmodern. When the men found out that my sisterand I were Northumbrians they could scarcelysuppress their joy; and after that, whenever she orI made a remark, however trivial, they cheered.Most of them came from Blyth and Morpeth. Theywere chiefly Wesleyans, and politically supporters ofThomas Burt, M.P. Our drive home in the eveningwas delicious beyond description. It was perfectlycalm, with a lovely sunset, the trees already flashinginto their summer tints, and the air full of that mostdelightful scent of the early orange and lemon blossomwhich comes out while the trees are still covered withtheir golden fruit. It was a memorable day for us, asa pleasant family gathering and full of Christian hope.

This summer George Butler was very ill forseveral weeks with rheumatic fever. On his partialrecovery, he was advised to try the baths at Homburg,and from thence they travelled to Aix-la-Chapelleand to Switzerland, where he becameseriously ill again, and had to remain till December.

I must now record a passage of my own personalexperience at this crisis, which will be variously191interpreted by any who may read it, but which Ishall state with all simplicity for the encouragementat least of those who believe and know that there isa “God in heaven Who heareth prayer.” I hadpassed a sleepless night, in vain attempts to soothethe sufferings and allay the fever of my dear invalid,myself weak and exhausted, and now full of pain.The night was long, dark and cold, both spirituallyand materially. Towards morning he fell into atroubled sleep. I went softly into a little ante-room,leaving the door open between. A feeling of despaircame over me. My own strength was failing, andhe was worse. Who would now minister to him, Iasked, and was there to be no end to these repeatedand heart-breaking disappointments? When Elijahfled into the wilderness, and gave himself up tobitter thoughts, in the depths of his discouragementthe voice came to him, questioning, “What doestthou here, Elijah?” bidding him arise out of hisdepression. So to me it seemed at that momentthat a voice came—or rather, I would say, a lightshone—into the very heart of my darkness anddespair. The promises of God in the Scriptures,with which I had been familiar all my life, came tome as if I had heard them for the first time. I fellon my knees and kept silence, to hear what the Lordwould say to me; for, for my own part, I hadnothing to say. My trouble was too heavy for speech.“The prayer of faith shall save the sick.”“Callupon Me in the time of trouble, and I will deliverthee.” “Is this true?” I exclaimed. Yes, I knew itwas true. It seemed to become a very simple matter,and grace was given to me, in my pain and weakness,192to say only, “Lord, I believe.” The burden wasremoved. I returned to my husband’s room, andsat silent for a while until he moved, and the daybroke. I brought him his breakfast, and said tohim confidently, “You are going to be better to-day,beloved.” He smiled, but did not speak. Twohours later our kind doctor came. He took histemperature and felt his pulse, and with a sigh ofrelief he said, “Well, dear Canon, a wonderful thinghas happened. A great change has come. Youare much better.”

A lady told me later that at a party of friends inBerne, Dr. Demme had spoken of this recovery,and said that it had been very remarkable,—a“Divine interposition” in answer, as he believed,to prayer: he added that my husband had hadinflammation of both lungs and pleurisy, as well asthe serious heart attack, adding, “any one of whichwas enough to kill most men.”

After my husband’s serious illness in 1886, I hadresolved in my own mind never again to be absentfrom him for more than a few hours, if possible,during our united lives. I refused all invitations toattend meetings in London or elsewhere, sometimes,I fear, to the surprise as well as the regret of myfellow-workers in public matters. My choice washowever deliberate, and I have never had cause toregret it. He had, I thought, sufficiently sufferedby my frequent absences from home, during manyyears of our married life, while engaged in opposinga great social wrong, and he had borne this trialwithout a murmur. He was now advanced in years,193and less strong, and these things seemed to me toconstitute a most sacred claim to my personal andconstant devotion to him. Never, except for a dayor two during the serious illness of a dear sister, didI consent to be separated from him. Even on thatoccasion I was told by those at home that he seemedto feel my absence sadly, and that at the sound ofa footstep or wheels on the drive, he would go to thewindow to see if by any chance it was his wife whohad returned, though he knew that it was scarcelypossible.

In this period of quieter life, Josephine Butler byno means rested from literary work, or from activeinterest in the abolitionist cause. Besides a largeamount of correspondence, chiefly connected with thework of the Federation, she issued in 1887 twopamphlets, The Revival and Extension of the AbolitionistCause, and Our Christianity tested by the IrishQuestion. In the first she refers to the C.D. Lawsthen in force in many of the Colonies and in India,and to the traffic in women which the system hadfacilitated. These Laws were shortly after repealedin most of the Crown Colonies and in India.

In the Irish pamphlet she shows how in theattempt to rule Ireland by a succession of CoercionActs the same constitutional principles had beenviolated as in the case of the Acts against which shehad so long fought. She traces the long sad story ofEngland’s treatment of the sister isle, the real andsolid grievances, which had naturally led to thedemand for Home Rule.

Certain classes of persons in England have alwaysmaintained that successive Irish leaders and patriotswere mere mischief makers, the cause and not theexponents of the prevailing discontent. If their194mouths could be stopped, they imagine, there wouldbe no more disaffection in Ireland, or such as therewas would be easily repressed. This was theirmanner of judging of Flood, of Grattan, of Curran,of O’Connell. They could not learn, and are as farfrom learning to-day as ever, that you cannot healthe broken heart of Ireland by gagging those whomshe sends over here to plead for her. They wererelieved when the prison doors closed upon one afteranother of Ireland’s patriotic but unhappy sons;they were hopeful of quieter times when O’Connelldied, worn out and sad. As one of their own poetssaid, “They broke the æolian harp, and then wrotean epitaph on the wind;” the wind which gavevoice to the harp, a voice sometimes sad and low,and wailing, sometimes giving forth a shriek full ofa*gony and vengeance. They imagined it was dead.Such has ever been the manner of looking at nationalgriefs by people who lack sympathy with all aspirationsafter self-government, freedom, and the manhoodof a nation, and who believe you can beat thesouls of men into submission by physical force.They bring out their handcuffs and their cannon;they create the silence of desolation, and then theycall it peace.

In order to give a complete idea of my husband’skindliness of nature, and to fill in some characteristictouches of his home life, I must speak of our affectionatecompanions—our dogs. Our first dog friendwas Bunty (the origin of the name is obscure). Helived with us many years at Liverpool, and camewith us to Winchester. He was a dog of excellent195parts; not of pure breed, chiefly otter hound. Hehad beautiful eyes, full of human expression. He hada strong sense of humour. It is generally said thatdogs hate to be laughed at. This was not the casewith Bunty. He could bear to be laughed at,would enter into the joke, and, so to speak, turn thelaugh against himself, by behaving in a mannerwhich he well knew would excite laughter. Heshared many pleasant holidays with us. He diedin 1883. My husband had the free hand of a sculptor.A few things which he carved in stone were worthyof preservation, among them a perfect likeness ofthis good dog in an attitude of watchful repose.Beneath he carved the words—ΑΡΙΣΤΟΥ ΚΥΝΟΣΣΗΜΑ. “Some of my friends,” he wrote, “finda difficulty in believing that I carved Bunty’s likenessin stone. Froude says, some centuries hence,when the monument is disinterred and its inscriptiondiscovered, some Dryasdust will start a theory thata Greek colony once inhabited the Close.” Bunty’ssuccessor was Carlo, a handsome thoroughbredretriever, quite black, with shining curls—a sensible,gentlemanlike dog, excellent in his own special artof retrieving birds, and an uncompromising guardand watchdog. His attachment to his master,whom he outlived for two years, was profound.This poor dog was very wretched and melancholywhen his master left his home for the last time andreturned no more. He would seek him in everycorner of the house, and along the riverside where hehad been accustomed to walk with him or watch himfishing; and returning, would rest his chin on thearm of his master’s empty study chair, as if waiting196for the familiar hand to pat his head. His dumbgrief was very touching.

In May, 1888, Josephine Butler started The Dawn,a quarterly sketch of the work of the Federation,and in the pages of this periodical she continued tospeak words of encouragement and warning to herfriends for over eight years, after which its issueceased. She and her husband attended the Conferencesof the Federation at Lausanne in 1887, andat Copenhagen in 1888; and to the end of his life,notwithstanding his increasing weakness, they wereable to enjoy together peaceful visits to relatives inSwitzerland and Italy. It was on their way homefrom one of these visits, that George Butler died inLondon on March 14th, 1890. Two years laterJosephine Butler published her Recollections ofGeorge Butler, from which we have already quoted somuch, and from which we must now make one morequotation.

We read in the Gospels that the disciples of Christfound themselves one dark evening separated fromthe Master, “in the midst of the sea”; that He sawthem from the shore “toiling in rowing, for thewind was contrary.” Such is sometimes the position,spiritually and morally, of one who has up to acertain point “fought a good fight and kept thefaith,” but against whom arise contrary winds andbuffeting waves; one for whom “fightings withoutand fears within” have proved too severe, and whois now “toiling in rowing,” with faint heart andgloomy outlook—the presence of the Master nolonger realised to reassure and guide. “Old Satanis too strong for young Melancthon,” said one of thereformers of the sixteenth century, and the same197enemy has proved many a time since then too strongfor much humbler workers. The problems of life attimes appear so perplexing as to be incapable of anysolution. The lines of good and evil, of right andwrong, light and darkness, appear blurred; and theweak and burdened spirit loses the hold it hadretained hitherto of the highest standard, fidelity towhich alone can bring us again out of darkness andtrouble into light and hope.

Moses for the hardness of the people’s heartsallowed a relaxation of the severity of the originallaw given from on high, and so suffered the moralstandard to be lowered in some of the most importantrelations of life. There was a time when itseemed to me that hearts are harder now than evenin the old days, and when the stern ethics of Christ—thedivine standard—seemed to become impossibleas a matter of practical enforcement. Horribly perplexed,I was tempted to give up the perfect ideal.It is in this way, I think, through lack of faith, thatcompromises creep in among us—compromises witherror, with sin, with wrong-doing, unbelief takingroot first in the individual soul, and then graduallyspreading until a lower standard is accepted in familylife, in society, in legislation, and in Government.And at last, as even in our own land, we may seepublicly endorsed and signed what the Hebrewprophet calls “a covenant with death” and an“agreement with hell.” Such an acceptance andpublic endorsem*nt of a compromise with evil proclaimsthe failure of faith of a whole nation, and thebeginning of a “downgrade,” in which virtue isregarded as no longer possible for man.

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To speak of clouded moments of one’s own lifeinvolves no small effort. But in justice both to myhusband and to the movement I have tried to serveI am impelled to do so. There are some people who,if they remember at all that moral uprising againstnational unrighteousness in which we took part, stillregard it as an illusion, and its advocacy as a “fad,”or even as a blot on an otherwise inoffensive career—somethingwhich must always require explanation orapology. But there are others who understoodfrom the first its true meaning and far-reaching issues,and who have perhaps imagined that an unbrokenconsistency of action, based on an immovablestrength of conviction, must at all times havecharacterised any man or woman destined to take arepresentative part in it. A sense of justice forcesme to confess that the fact (in regard to myself) wasnot always as they imagined; for there was a timewhen I resembled the faint-hearted though loyaldisciple, who, when venturing to walk on the waters,in an evil moment looked away from Christ andaround upon the weltering, unstable floor on whichhe stood, and immediately began to sink. Whenmoreover the sense of justice of which I speakregards one who was and is dear to me as my ownsoul, then I am doubly forced to speak, and to give“honour to whom honour is due” by telling of thewisdom which God gave him in encouraging andsupporting through a few troubled years the triedand wavering advocate of a cause in which bothfaith and courage were put to a severe test.

A deeply-rooted faith—a personal, and not merelya traditional faith—in the central truths of Christ,199and moral strength, the fruit of that faith, were inhim united with other qualities which were needfulfor the task he so well fulfilled. Others whom Ihave known—teachers and fathers in God—have hadthis moral and spiritual faith in a high degree,together with an eloquence and power in argumentto which he had no pretension. But few—it seemedto me at least—possessed such patience as he had,such long-suffering, such a power of silent waiting,such a dignified reserve, and such a strong respectfor individuality as to forbid all probing of innerwounds, or questioning of motive or action, even inthe case of one so near to him as myself. He hadgreat delicacy and refinement in dealing with thebitterness or petulance of a soul in trouble. Hehad great faith in his fellow-creatures. And these,together with his unfailing love, like the sun in theheavens surmounting the hours of cold and darkness,gradually overcame the mists which had wrappedthemselves round the heart and obscured thespiritual vision of her for whom he never ceased topray.

At this time his voice, when simply reading thewords of Christ at family prayers, used to sound inmy ears with a strange and wonderful pathos,which pierced the depths of rebellious or despairingthought. At times his attitude—probably unconsciouslyto himself—assumed in my eyes anunaccustomed and almost awful sternness. Sometimesmy unrest of mind found vent in words ofbitterness (which however only skimmed the surfaceof the inward trouble), and I waited for him tospeak. Then he seemed to rise before me to a200stature far above my level, above that of othermen, and even above his own at other times, whilehe gently led me back to great first principles andto the Source of all Truth, presenting to me,in a way which I could sometimes hardly bear,the perfection and severity of the law of God, andour own duty in patient obedience and perseverance,even when the ascent is steepest, and the roaddarkest and longest. He very seldom gave medirect personal advice or warning. He simplystood there before me in the light of God, truthful,upright, single-minded; and all that had beendistorted or wrong in me was rebuked by thatattitude alone; and a kind of prophetic sense ofreturning peace, rather than actual peace, enteredmy soul, and my heart replied, “Where you standnow, beloved, I shall also stand again one day,perhaps soon, on firm ground, and in the light ofGod.” And my soul bowed in reverence before him,although never could he bear any outwardexpression of that reverence. It seemed to hurt him.He would gently turn away from it. He spokefirmly when he differed from any doubtful sentimentexpressed or argument used. His simple “no,” or“I think you are wrong,” were at times morepowerful to me, than the most awful pulpitdenunciation or argumentative demonstration ofmy error could have been; and then, even if hecondemned, his love and reverence never failed.

He knew the Psalms almost by heart, and theinspired words which he always had so ready weremore potent for me, when spoken by him, thanany other thing. His religion, and his method of201consoling, were not of a subtle or philosophicalkind; and he was all the better a comforter to mebecause he did not—perhaps could not—easily enterinto and follow all the windings of my confusedthinkings and doubtings and revolted feelings.Strong swimmer as he was, I felt in my half-drownedstate his firm grasp, and his powerful stroke uponthe waters as we neared the land; and when by hisaid my feet stood once more upon the solid rock,I understood the full force of the grateful acknowledgmentof the Psalmist, “Thou hast kept my feetfrom falling, and mine eyes from tears.”

I have not up till now dwelt upon the wrongsand sorrows which we were forced deliberately tolook upon and measure, nor shall I do so. Could Ido so, my readers would not wonder at any sufferingor distress of brain caused by such a subject ofcontemplation. Dante tells us that when, in hisdream, he entered the Inferno and met its sights andsounds, he fell prone “as one dead.” I once repliedto a friend, who complained of my using strongexpressions and asked the meaning of them, asfollows: “Hell hath opened her mouth. I standin the near presence of the powers of evil. WhatI see and hear are the smoke of the pit, the violenceof the torture inflicted by man on his fellows, thecries of lost spirits, the wail of the murderedinnocents, and the laughter of demons.” But these,it will be said, are mere figures of speech. So theyare, used purposely to cover—for no words canadequately express—the reality which they symbolise.But the reality is there, not in any dream or poeticvision of woe, but present on this earth; hidden202away, for the most part, from the virtuous and thehappy, but not from the eyes of God. Turning fromthe contemplation of such unspeakable woes anddepths of moral turpitude, it was a strength andcomfort beyond description, through the years ofstrife, to look upon the calm face of my best earthlyfriend. It was a peace-imparting influence. Andnow that I walk alone and look only at his portrait,even that seems to take me into the presence ofGod, where he now dwells among the “spirits ofjust men made perfect,” and to whisper hope of theapproaching solution of the great mystery of sinand pain.

I often recall an incident, which occurred atWinchester in the cathedral, a trifle in itself, butwhich dwells in my memory as an illustration ofthe help he gave to me spiritually in time of need.It was during the service on Sunday. I suddenlyfelt faint, the effect of a week of unusual effort andhard work. Wishing not to disturb anyone or makea scene, I took the opportunity, when all heads werebowed in prayer, to creep down from the stalls assilently as possible, past the tomb of William Rufus,and down the choir, holding on when possible bythe carved woodwork of the seats. A moment more,and I should have dropped. I could scarcely steadymy steps, and my sight failed, when suddenly therepassed a flash of light, as it seemed, before my eyes,something as white as snow and as soft as an angel’swing; it enveloped me, and I felt myself held upby a strong, loving arm, and supported through thenave to the west door, where the cool summerbreeze restored me. It was my husband. He was203in his own seat near the entrance to the nave, andhis quick ear had caught the sound of my footstep.Quite noiselessly he left his seat and took me in hisarms, unobserved by anyone. The flash of light(the angel’s wing) was the quick movement of thewide sleeve of his fine linen surplice, upon which thesun shone as he drew me towards him.

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CHAPTER XIV.
INDIA.

Josephine Butler’s constant advocacy of Women’sSuffrage is illustrated by the following short speechgiven at a conference in the City Temple on July20th, 1891.

I told your chairman that I would come forwardjust to tell you that I cannot say anything. Stillperhaps I may be able to put one little thoughtbefore you. I am sorry that fear and timidity aregrowing up again, and that a fresh conspiracy ofsilence threatens us.

God gives us a phraseology, a pure and chasteand holy indignation, which makes it possible forus to go to the bottom of these things withoutoffending the chastest ear. For twenty-one yearsI have worked with my dear fellow-workers ina public manner against these hateful laws, whichone of the resolutions pronounced and which Ipronounce as accursed. During these twenty-oneyears there was one thing which made our battleharder than it would have been. We have had tofight outside the Constitution. We have beenknocking at the door of the Constitution all theseyears, and there are men who even now tell methat they would give us anything in the way ofjustice except the parliamentary vote. We have205been talking about certain Members of Parliamentwho are not fit to occupy that position. Give thewomen a vote, and see what will be the result. Inall my work my one strength has been the strengthof the Almighty, sought and won by constantprayer; and the prayer which I now offer in mysecret chamber is that the veil may be taken away,and the selfishness—the perhaps unconsciousselfishness—may be removed from the hearts of menwho deny women equality, and keep them outsidethe Constitution. Think what we could do in thecause of morality, think of the pain and troubleand martyrdom that we might be saved in the future,if we had that little piece of justice.

The same question is dealt with in a letter writtenin the following year to a meeting in London of theWorld’s Women’s Christian Temperance Union.

We may pray and we may preach about thesethings, and we may raise our voices to some littleextent during the excitement of a contested election;but that is not enough. My friends, we must havethe suffrage. It is our right, and it is cruel, and acontinued injustice, to withhold it from us. It haslately been said that the women generally of thecountry have not shown any desire for the suffrage.Some years ago I can assert that the women of thecountry showed a very great desire for it. Men donot know that at the bottom of that desire, underneathmany other good motives, there lies a bitternessof woe which is the most powerful stimulustowards the desire for representation in theLegislature. I am sometimes afraid that one of206these days some other terrible injustice may beenacted in Parliament through which women willagain suffer as they did under those laws I havealluded to. Perhaps it might not be an altogetherbad thing, if it caused women to utter once morethe bitter cry to which none of our legislators couldpretend to be deaf. But have we not, as it is,sufficient trouble, and misery, and degradationamong our own sex to make us utter even now thebitter cry—a cry however at the same time of hope,courage and confidence?

In June, 1893, Josephine Butler published ThePresent Aspect of the Abolitionist Cause in relation toBritish India: a letter “giving a recital illustrativeof the truth that a golden thread of Divine guidanceruns throughout the lives and work of those who givethemselves to the cause of truth, leading them outof every labyrinth of difficulty towards the goal atwhich they aim.” She tells how information havingbeen received from various sources that the RegulationSystem had been continued in several of theIndian Cantonments, notwithstanding the repeal ofthe Contagious Diseases Act in 1888, and officialdenial having been made of the allegations to thiseffect, the British Branch of the Federation decidedto make a thorough investigation of the actual stateof affairs, which was carried out in the early part of1892 by two American ladies, members of theWorld’s Women’s Christian Temperance Union,Mrs. Andrew and Dr. Kate Bushnell.

The wonderful manner in which Providenceanswered our wish and prayer to find suitableinstruments for so serious an investigation I shallnow relate. In the year 1878 I was staying with my207sister, Madame Meuricoffre at her country home onthe borders of the Lake of Geneva. One exquisitesummer evening we sat together, with anotherfriend, on the shore of the lake. The water and thesnow-capped mountains were lighted up withgorgeous tints of rose and amber from the setting sun.In such an hour of calm repose it is sometimesgranted to us to see with greater clearness the past,the present and the future of God’s dealings with us,and of any work to which we have been called. Mymind had long been troubled by the thought of thegrowing and gigantic nature of the Abolitionist workin the various countries of the world, and of the needand lack of women workers. I knew that womenmust always continue to be at the heart and in theforefront of the work in order to ensure success.I saw around me hundreds of true and faithfulwomen whose hearts were deeply stirred on thequestion. But where were those, I asked, whowould form the powerful phalanx needed for the oneobject of continued attack on and resistance to thatmasterpiece of Satan, official or State recognisedand regulated prostitution?

These thoughts I expressed to my sister and myfriend. It was one of those moments in which,whether in sadness or perplexity, or passive waitingfor light, it is sometimes given to us to realise, as withthe disciples at Emmaus, that “Jesus Himself drewnigh.” We were asking ourselves: “Whence shallthis army of women come? Where shall we findthem? What will be the sign of their fitness forthis work?” We sat some time in silence; and thenI recollect there came to me one of those moments208of re-assurance and hope, which are sometimesgranted during such silence of the soul. I somewhatdimly recall now that there came before my mind’seye a host of women presenting themselves fromdifferent quarters of the globe, speaking differentlanguages, and possessing various gifts, but allhaving the special call and the necessary qualificationsfor this great conflict. It reminded me ofthe incident recorded in Swiss history, during oneof Switzerland’s brave struggles in defence of herfreedom; that occasion, I mean, when a great whitemist covering the mountains in the early morningrolled upwards, and disclosed to the astonished gazeof the invading army entrenched in the valley along procession of angels, clad in white, descendingthe mountain side; an apparition which so alarmedthe enemy that it is said they lost nerve, turned, andwere defeated. This was but a stratagem devised bya number of shrewd peasant women, inhabitants ofthe mountain villages, who dressed themselves inwhite and slowly descended the mountain, thusworking upon the superstitious fears of the enemy.So the white-robed army appeared to my mentalvision on this occasion. The mists cleared away,and the hosts were descending to the plains to engagein this great spiritual conflict. It was one of thosem*ntal pictures which do not fade, a propheticthought, the fulfilment of which I have been led toremark year by year as noble women of differentlands have from time to time appeared just as theywere wanted in this cause. Since then I have notdoubted as to the advent of the women workers whowould be needed in great crises, and especially when209the physical forces of the pioneers become exhaustedand they must contemplate passing on and leavingthe work to other hands. I shall give in the unstudiedlanguage in which Dr. Kate Bushnell andMrs. Elizabeth Andrew recounted it to me, their ownnarrative of their call to this work. Dr. KateBushnell writes:—

“One hot summer day, while searching my Biblefor light, I turned first as by accident to Joseph’sdream. As it did not interest me, and seemedinapplicable to my need, I turned the pages quickly,and my attention was next arrested by the accountof Belshazzar’s dream, and Daniel’s interpretation.This seemed to me as foreign to my expectations ofhelp as the other, and turning the leaves over to theGospel of St. Matthew, I read there that ‘when Herodwas dead, behold an angel of the Lord appeared ina dream to Joseph in Egypt.’ My feeling was thatI had been baffled in my search for consolation andhelp in the sacred pages. Being very weary, I threwmyself on my couch, thinking of the darkness ofEgypt in my own plans. I said to the Lord thatI was so stupid in understanding His guidance, thatI thought He might have to send me the instructionsI needed through a dream, and to guide me at timesas He did His simple children of old. I fell asleepalmost instantly, and dreamed that I felt myselftossed on the billows of the Atlantic on my way toEngland to see Josephine Butler.” [At this time wehad never met nor corresponded.—J.E.B.]210 “Itbecame plain to me that she had something for meto do. It was one of those brief, refreshing periodsof unconsciousness, from which I awoke almostinstantly, but with a strong impression that I mustwrite to Mrs. Butler. This I did, telling her that Icame to her much under such an impulse as urgedPeter to go to Cornelius, and that I was deeply impressedthat she could counsel me as to my futurecourse. She replied, giving me a brief account ofthe situation in India, telling me that she and someof her friends had been earnestly praying that Godwould raise up an English-speaking woman to go tothat country, and make careful enquiry into thecondition of things there, with a view to ridding thatconquered people of the oppressive tyranny andshame imposed upon them by the Army authorities,who she had reason to fear had never carried out thewill of Parliament in abolishing the system ofregulation. This letter I showed to Mrs. Andrew,and we took counsel together. Mrs. Butler hadasked me to come over to England, if possible, thatwe might talk face to face on this matter. Mrs.Andrew was then on the eve of starting for England,and very soon after my decision was taken tojoin her and to begin our world’s tour together,taking in the special Indian work, if after full consultationwith Mrs. Butler this should seemadvisable.”

Similarly Mrs. Andrew told how she had receivedinspiration for this special work from reading Mr.Stead’s Life of Josephine Butler—when “the Spirit’svoice whispered to me, ‘You have not worked, youhave not loved as she has worked and loved.’”The pamphlet proceeds to tell the story of theseladies’ investigations, and the wonderful way in whichthey touched the hearts and won the confidence211of the poor Indian women. They found thatall these women, “whether of high or of low caste,Hindoo or Mohammedan, and of whatever nationality,whether brought up in virtue and afterwardsbetrayed, or brought up from infancy in vicioussurroundings,” felt a deep sense of the degradationof their position; and that “the fire of their hatredand indignation all centred upon the heart of theregulations, the examinations, and the violation ofwomanhood which these examinations were felt tobe.” Mrs. Andrew and Dr. Kate Bushnell gaveevidence before a Departmental Committee as to theaction of the Cantonment officials, and the truth oftheir reports was amply substantiated by the furtherevidence which the Committee obtained in India.The Report of this Committee led to the passing, in1895, of an Act which prohibited all examinationor registration of women in the Indian Cantonments.

Josephine Butler in 1894 published The Lady ofShunem, a series of Biblical studies, “addressed tofathers and mothers, more especially to mothers.”We give three extracts from this volume.

Is it not a thought, a fact which should wake upthe whole Christian world to a truer and clearerview of life as it is around us, that the first recordof a direct communication from Jehovah to a womanis this of His meeting with the rejected Hagar, alonein the wilderness? It was not with Sarah, theprincess, or any other woman, but with Hagar, theill-used slave, that the God of Heaven stooped toconverse, and to whom He brought His supremecomfort and guidance. This fact has been to me astrength and consolation in confronting the mostawful problem of earth, i.e. the setting apart for212destruction, age after age, of a vast multitude ofwomen—of those whom we dare to call lost—beyondall others lost—hopelessly lost. We ourselves, byour utmost efforts, have only so far been able tosave a few, a mere handful among the multitude;and of the others, unreached by any divinely-inspiredhuman help, we are apt to think with darkand dismal foreboding. We forget that thoughthey may be quite beyond the reach of our helpinghands, they are never beyond the reach of Hishand—His, who “being put to death in the flesh”was “quickened by the Spirit, by which also He wentand preached to the spirits in prison.”

Into the vilest prison-houses of earth (I believe)He descends alone many a time, to save those soulsburied out of the sight and ken of His servants andministers, even as He—He alone, unaccompaniedby any chosen ministers—descended into Hadesand “preached the Gospel also to those that aredead,” that they who have been “judged accordingto men in the flesh” may “live according to Godin the Spirit.”

That God should permit evil seems to some mindsas immoral as that He should Himself createand dispense it. This portion of the subject issurrounded with difficulty and mystery. It leads usback to the great unanswered question concerningthe origin of evil. Nowhere would a dogmaticutterance of any kind be more out of place andpresumptuous than here.

The glimpses of truth, the broken lights whichwe possess concerning the divine government of213the world, come to us often as a succession ofparadoxes, among which however the humbleseeker finds at last the truth which satisfies the heartand fortifies the spirit, if it does not seem exactly tofit in with our poor logic. God certainly suffersHis children, even His highest saints, to fall nowand again under the power of some of those evilthings which we recognise as having been introducedinto the world as the attendants of sin and death.He allows sickness to visit them. In the prolongingof such visitations however He is, I believe, sometimesonly patiently waiting for the sufferer to claimdeliverance; and it is frequently a long time beforeHis child recognises the fact that he may glorifyGod by giving Him the opportunity of rebuking hisdisease as much as he is doing by an unquestioningsubmission. “Wilt thou be made whole?” is oftenHis question to a sufferer, as to the cripple at thePool of Siloam, as if He would say, “I am ready torebuke the oppressor and to heal thee, when thouart ready to take this blessing.”

Those who are tempted to be angry with Godfor allowing misfortunes and evils to fall upon us,or who meet these in a spirit only of a sullenacquiescence, have not yet fully realised that it isonly through conflict and through trial of ourintegrity that we can become in the highest sensesons and daughters of God. Christ Himself was“made perfect through suffering.” There arepersons who seem to think that God could, if Hepleased, by a single act of His will, by a wave ofHis hand, cause all evil to cease out of the universethis very day, this very hour. Whether He can do214so or not is beyond our power or province to knowor to enquire. But it is evident to one who studieshumbly His Word and His Providence in the lightof His Spirit, that God has been pleased to submitHimself for a season to a certain limitation of Hispower; and we may be sure that this is for an endthat will be much more excellent and glorious thanwe can now conceive of, when the work of grace inthe salvation of the world is fully accomplished.

“He could not there do many mighty works,because of their unbelief.” Here we have a clearlyconfessed limitation of His power, while at the sametime the words point to that blessed truth and marvelof the appointed working together of God’s willand man’s will, the union of the divine and the humanfor the fulfilment of His loving purposes, and thefinal triumph of good over evil. If the above wordsbe true that “He could not,” is not the converse truealso, that He could, and that He can, do manymighty works because of the faith He finds inman? It would seem that God needs the faith ofman as an allied spiritual agency, for the constantgenerating of the force by which He will finally“subdue all things unto Himself,” when the rebelpower, the opposing will, will exist no more.

It is a wonderful and solemn thought that we,who believe in Him, we fathers and mothers, whohave the strongest of all human motives to exercisethe faith which He loves and approves, can supplyto our God the conditions which He has told us Heneeds, and which He claims of us, in order to savenot only our own children, but whole generationsto come, who shall be fellow-workers with Him215in bringing in the reign of righteousness on theearth.

I thank God that I long ago got far beyondbeing taunted with youth, and suspected of anenthusiasm which is a mere ardour of the blood,untried by experience of life. The sweet visions ofmy early youth, when I used to sit under the shadeof the trees in my father’s home, and read of the holymartyrs and dream of a golden age, are nothingcompared with the hope and enthusiasm which Godgives me now, and which He has continued to giveme while health failed, and some present hopes wereblighted, and my way began to be strewn with thegraves of those I loved, and I trod the lonely pathof widowhood, and the world’s worst evils continuedto glare in my eyes. I have had sharp, deep wounds,and long conflict of soul; but now ought not I, ifanyone ought, to tell out the hopes which God givesme, and to speak of the ever-widening horizon whichI see illumined by His redeeming love?

The following paragraph is part of an interviewgiven in Wings, the official organ of the Women’sTotal Abstinence Union, January, 1895.

I have often had occasion, in the course of manyyears of arduous work, again and again to meetgroups of my fellow-workers, especially on theContinent, who have confessed themselves subjectedto periods of deep depression and disappointment.Having gone through the same experience myself,216and having been driven back upon God again andagain, when everything seemed dark and hopeless,He has taught me some precious lessons which I havebeen called to impart sometimes to others. Thecentral truth to which I have learned to hold fast isthis truth—that death must precede resurrection;that in every cause which is truly God’s causefailures and disappointments are not only familiarthings, but even necessary for the final success of thecause. It is the lesson of the Cross. That scene onCalvary was for the moment, or seemed to be, thewreck of all the hopes of the followers of Christ. Thespirit of the poor disciples walking on the road toEmmaus who said, “We trusted that it had been Hewho should have redeemed Israel,” is a true pictureof the experience probably of every true reformer.But when God has Himself led us into some of Hissecrets, and the inner meaning of His providentialguidings, we no longer despond; for we come to knowthat it is a law in the Kingdom of Grace that deathmust precede resurrection. “Except a corn ofwheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone;but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.” For manyyears past therefore I have been able, by God’sgrace, not only to acquiesce in apparent failure timeafter time, but even in a measure to rejoice, knowingthat the way is thus being prepared, both in our ownhearts and in the outward circ*mstances, for a morecomplete victory in the end.

217

CHAPTER XV.
GENEVA.

A Doomed Iniquity was the title of a pamphlet issuedby Josephine Butler in 1896. It embodied anauthoritative condemnation of State Regulation ofVice from persons of very different trains of thought,in France, Germany, and Belgium, who regarded thequestion from various points of view—scientific,political and religious—but all agreed in proclaimingthe complete failure and injustice of the system, “ofwhich they have had a far longer experience than wein England had.” The first was from Dr. CharlesMauriac, who at one time strongly defended thesystem, but had now published a book on thehygienic aspect of the question, in which he declaredthat the old coercive method was “breaking topieces on all sides like a worm-eaten building on thepoint of falling to ruin,” and advocated a newmethod “which will emancipate woman from thelast remnants of slavery, and render her free, as menare, to enter a hospital and to leave it without constraintwhenever it seems good to her.” The secondwas from Herr Bebel, the leader of the Socialist partyin Germany, who pointed out the failure, cruelty andinjustice of the system—a flagrant injustice whichwas “only possible because it is men alone whogovern and who make the laws.” The third opinionwas given in a memorial to the Pope, from theBelgian Society of Public Morality, signed by all theCatholic bishops of Belgium, and others includingthe Prime Minister, praying his218 “Holiness to condemn,with an authority which is recognised by thewhole world, this system so fatal to the well-being ofsouls, and so dangerous to the social order.”

Herr Bebel’s statement had been written to aSwiss friend, for use in the struggle at Geneva,referred to in the following letters, when a blindpopular vote endorsed the recognition by the administrationof “tolerated houses.” It is worthnoting that eleven years later the Federal High Courtof Switzerland pronounced the establishment of suchhouses in Geneva to be illegal: “comme contraireaux bonnes mœurs,” adding, “le fait qu’il seraitautorisé par l’administration ne saurait lui enleverce caractère.”

To various friends.

Geneva, March 25th, 1896.

I have been called to witness a dark page in thehistory of human life. It is pain to me to have torecord it; but its lessons are needful and solemn,and I wish I had a voice to reach to the end of thecivilised world, that those lessons might be heard.How many years we have had the hard task imposedon us of trying to show people—good people—thehorrible principles embodied in the State regulationof vice, and the results which must necessarily follow—andthey would not, will not believe us.

I must tell you first the dark side, and we mustnot shrink from letting it be known far and wide;and then I will go back and record the events of thelast fortnight, among which you will find many thingswhich will make you glad, as they have made us glad,in the midst of so much horror. Well you alreadyknow the result of the Popular Vote. We had 4068as against 8300—a crushing defeat. But presently Imust explain to you how the people were misled by219the Government; so that this cannot be quite trulysaid to be the verdict of the people, though to all theworld it seems so. It will be and is a great triumphfor our adversaries everywhere. As M. Ador said(one of our friends in the Grand Council), it is (hebelieved) the first time in the history of the worldwhen a moral question of such import has been submittedto the verdict of the people, and their verdictis in favour of continued legalised vice; and it is thefirst time that the popular vote has been taken onthe basis of the “Droit d’Initiative,” a recentlaw in Switzerland from which much good wasexpected.

The horrors revealed last week, and especiallythose of Sunday night, have however so far exceededthe dismay caused by the immense majorityagainst us, that I must speak first of those. Andyou will not wonder when I say that I am glad, asmany others are, that the gates of this Inferno werethrown open, and that the results of a hundred yearsof Government organised and protected vice havebeen for once fully revealed. In a meeting onMonday of our gentlemen (who now number somehundreds of really convinced and militant abolitionists)they asked me some questions about ourEnglish battle, and in answering I said,220 “Gentlemen,you are able to face the truth, which is that Geneva isgoverned by the brothel keepers (tenanciers). They arethe masters of the city, the masters of the situation.It is they, with their following, who have now givena mandate to the Council of State and the GrandCouncil, to strengthen their position, and to plantmore firmly than ever in your midst government bytenanciers.” 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 mostbrilliant sunshine. Mme. de Gingins and I went toan early service in a Free Church, where most of ourfriends go. They sent me a message to speak a fewwords. (All scruples about women speaking inchurches vanished like a slight cloud before the middaysun in the presence of such a solemn day for thepeople, when all the faith and courage and patienceof women were as much wanted as those of men.)There was great life in that morning service, at theend of which most of us had the Sacrament together,in almost absolute silence. I should rather haveliked that we had all received it standing, with adrawn sword in one hand, as the old crusaders did!The spirit of war however was there, as well as theMaster’s benediction: “My peace I give unto you.”On the way home we elected to take a drive all roundthe city, Mme. de Gingins and I in her carriage, whichwaited for us. The streets were already (at 10 a.m.)very crowded, but the people were quiet, it being soearly. I looked with sympathy at the faces ofnumbers of poor and honest-looking workmen, whoseemed to be anxious.

Oh, I never saw anything like the beauty of theRhone that day, rolling its magnificent waves andcurling, dancing waters along (the waters about whichRuskin has half a chapter of eloquent description).The main colour is a clear sapphire blue, shading offinto sky blues, purples and pale rose colours, andflecked with streaks of golden sunlight. Geneva is a221beautiful city, and the birds were singing, and theyoung 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 leadingabolitionists to assemble to hear the result of the poll,and, if necessary, to stay all night—sixty or seventyof us!—because it was well known if we had had avictory the vengeance of the tenanciers’ mob wouldhave made it perilous for any of us to pass through thestreets.

I shall never forget that memorable evening andnight. M. Favre is the most prominent man ofGeneva, belonging to the old nobility. His house isjust a little removed from the town, on a little risingground whence you see all Geneva lying like a mapbefore you. It is one of the fortresses of the oldnobles, before the Reformation, and it was there thatsome hundreds of Huguenot refugees from Francewere harboured by an ancestor of M. Favre in thetimes of Louis XIV. There is a huge stone archwayby which you enter a great courtyard, whence stairsascend in the open air to different parts of thefortress. It is all of solid rock and stone; no mobwould have a chance to enter, and here the refugeesof March 22nd, 1896, were received. When we firstwent about fourteen of us had dinner, and food waskept going in the dining-room till midnight for all theabolitionist presidents at the different urns who keptdropping in till 10 p.m. Those, who came from thecountry arrondissem*nts, of course got in ratherlate, some of them having narrowly escaped roughhandling. M. Bridel came last, and they telephonedfor news of him, but no answer came. His wife was222very pale and anxious, but at last he appeared. Thevoting in his quarter had continued late. Last ofall, M. de Meuron came from La Fusterie, whereall the votes had been collected and counted, andwhere the final result was given out. It was a greatshock and grief to all, and hard to bear. About fortyor fifty men (who had been at the urns all day) wereassembled 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 largeroom of the Huguenot fortress discussing all thecirc*mstances. As I looked at their good faces andheard their words, I felt more encouraged than I haveever yet been in Geneva. These were the men whomake corps d’élite, who lead forlorn hopes, andwho by this very defeat and disaster are welded into amore complete and convinced body of combatantsthan could ever have been formed by a victory, and Ifelt the strong brotherhood which had grown up amongthem 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, afterwardsthey proposed that we should resolve ourselves into acommittee, which we did, forming a circle. Thatconsultation was wonderfully practical, and to thepoint. Slowly, but surely, a spirit of resoluteness,and even encouragement, took the place of the firstfeeling of dismay. It was a memorable assembly;I shall never forget it.

Then we began to feel and to hear from ourfortress the beginning of the demoniacal orgies ofthat night. M. Favre made M. and Mme. de Meuron223stay all night, and a few others, as the threats of themob were rather alarming. We all stayed till nearlymidnight. We had among our faithful following anumber of humble men and women, who came innow and again to report on what was passing, andnext day the worst they had told us was more thanconfirmed. When the result of the poll was known,the leading tenanciers, with their banners andfollowing, forced their way into the large Church ofthe Fusterie, at the entrance of which the final resultof the voting had been made known, and then beganscenes and processions which had been organisedbeforehand. It is a pain to write of it; but it is wellthat the worst should be known, well that theGenevese should have had the awful revelation of thevileness of what they have been harbouring in theirmidst. You may know perhaps, that every houseof debauchery under Government sanction and protectionis obliged to hang up a red lamp over the door,as a guide to visitors. So that now, and especiallysince Sunday night, that powerful institution whichnow rules Geneva is designated as the “Lamperouge.” They had organised processions in case of avictory, with designs and red lamps. They marchedthrough the whole city, a mass of devilry and obscenitywhich, I suppose, could hardly be seen anywhere else,except perhaps in Paris. Soldiers had been postedall about the Fusterie, but nevertheless the “redlamps” rushed into the church and marched roundit inside, locking the gendarmerie out. The lattercould not even succeed in forcing their way round theoutside of the church, so dense was the crowd.Inside it seems the “red lamps” held a sort of service224to the devil—tramping, swearing, and singing songs ofthe utmost blasphemy and obscenity. Having “consecrated”their red lamps in the large church, theywent on to all the other churches, and filled the air infront of each with their blasphemies. Then branchesof the procession went running to the different placeswhich they hated most, and where they hoped to findsome abolitionists—first to the Young Men’s ChristianAssociation, but they had an avant-courrier in theperson of one of our scouts, who ran faster and toldthat the “red lamps” were coming, so that all themen assembled in that building had just time to getout and disperse, and only windows were left to bebattered in. They went to our Federation office, butit was locked up and all dark—M. Minod being withus in the Huguenot fortress. Then a number of themmade a furious rush to the Eaux Vives, to break intoM. de Meuron’s house, but it was also locked up andnot a soul in it. They demonstrated furiously infront of it. So through the long hours devilry reignedin this city, which on that early Sunday morning hadlooked so fair. It was an open and impudentsaturnalia, flaring its open shame before the eyes ofall, “La Lampe rouge” carried everywhere, like adivinity, and the decent part of the populationcowering before it, or getting out of sight.

In one matter the kind prayers of our friendswere answered. Just about midnight, when we inthe fortress wanted to get home, and anxieties werefelt as to our getting back without being attacked, atremendous rain fell for about an hour, though tillthen the sky had been clear. It seemed sent by God.It damped the unholy ardour of the followers of the225“Lampe rouge,” and drove many of them intotheir retreats, so that at that hour we were able toget home without being recognised, as there wasdarkness as well as heavy rain. I do not think therewas much bodily injury. At one moment, in front ofthe Fusterie, one of our presidents at the urns wasknocked down in the crowd, and seemed likely to betrampled, and a student of the university drew hissword (one of those swords concealed in a walkingstick) to defend our friend. A great commotionfollowed, and the student was arrested. There wasa great deal of violence, but no serious hurt. The“red lamps” finally assembled before the office of theGenevois, and the editor was called to harangue them.I think he felt a little ashamed of the devilry he hadhelped to call up, and begged them to keep quiet andgo 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 majorityagainst us. I sent you some of the voting papers.Is it any wonder that such a paper should puzzle theordinary elector? You know how stupid electorsoften are. I doubt if our own people in Englandwould all have voted right if the question had beenput to them in that complicated form. If the questionhad been, “Do you desire the abolition or themaintenance of the maisons tolérées?” every man,woman, and boy would have understood, because themaisons tolérées are as much in evidence and knownas the cathedral or the market-place. But thequestion put before the electors was226 “(1) Do youapprove of the projet de loi de l’initiative? Yes orno. (2) Do you approve of the projet de loi of theGovernment? Yes or no.” You can see what athrowing of dust in their eyes this was. Workingmen were asking, What does it mean?—honestlyasking; and you know that during the past fiveweeks our party were not allowed to hold meetings toinstruct the people. Every meeting was broken upby the “Lampes rouges,” and finally every hall androom was closed against us by a police order. Attemptingto speak in the streets or roads, our friendswere stoned and assaulted, and silenced by noise.Freedom of public meeting and freedom of speech nolonger exist in Geneva. You will see that stated inthe Press which is favourable to us again and again.If we had had those liberties it is believed that wemight have had a majority of votes. Workingwomen told us that their husbands were good men,but meant to abstain from voting altogether, becausethey 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 haddeeply injured La Patrie, and troubled Geneva, andspoiled the prospects of the Exhibition—thatforeigners had done this, i.e. Vaudois, Bernese,Germans, etc., and that all the agitators were paid byan English lady, who had been sent from Londonwith hundreds of pounds in her pocket. The poorpeople were misled by this kind of stuff. When oneconsiders all these traps and deceptions put beforethem, to say nothing of the drink, one almostwonders that there were found 4000 who voted forabolition.

227

To various friends.

April 7th, 1896.

We have been gaining true adherents every daysince the 22nd, persons who have been moved by theforce of circ*mstances and by their own conscienceopenly to join the Abolitionists. Among these areseveral professors of the university. I think I didnot explain in my last that one cause of our havingsuch a minority of votes is as follows: Party politicsrule at Geneva. The appearance of a new partyin the State, a party of Justice and Morality,displeased the Conservative, the Democratic, and theRadical parties alike. The Democratic especially, asthey are the majority, and most of our abolitionistfriends are Democrats. The “National party,” whichis above mere petty party politics, was of course astone of discord thrown among them, which disgustedthem much; and several voted against us on the22nd out of sheer anger and revenge. Yet the truthis working, and some are even now repenting of theirvote, while several abstained at the last moment.

On Monday morning, after Sunday night’shorrible scenes, I walked along in the sweet sunshineto our office to see how things looked, and there Ifound a group already of distinguished mengathered round M. Minod’s large table, who hadjust come in one by one to relieve their hearts andconsult together. We can recollect when we inEngland had the same experience in the midst ofgeneral or party politics. We were not agreeableto either side in Parliament. Troublesome “faddists”they called us, and an occasion of trouble anddivision among the different political parties. In228two great elections at least we troubled theGovernment considerably by the confusion webrought into the Liberal camp. In fact we wereobliged to make ourselves disagreeable in order to belistened to at all, and at last we prevailed. I tolda good deal of this to our Geneva friends, who aremuch reproached for sounding a note in the politicalcircles which is neither of one side nor the other,but altogether a new note. I recalled Christ’swords, “I am not come to bring peace on earth,but a sword.”

Another encouragement is the coming out of somany doctors. A few weeks ago we did but knowof one who was favourable; but only four days beforethe election thirty-three doctors made up theirminds, and even had their names printed as adherentsto 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 ofthe students of the university, and other youngmen. Those students had several meetings of theirown, called with a serious purpose, and not promptedfrom the outside. One of them reported to me afinal meeting they had among themselves for voting.Eighty-five per cent. of the students present declaredthemselves strongly in favour of Abolitionistprinciples. One young man was courageous enoughto get up and protest that an early introduction tovice was a sign of manliness, adding that many ofthe virtuous students were weak fellows, etc.! Theeighty-five went for him like a pack of young houndsafter some noisome wild animal, with howling andfury. The misguided young man judged it best229to get out of the room, which he did very rapidlyindeed. Of course there is a certain youthfulnessabout these manifestations, but it rejoiced our heartsto see so many of the young population inspiredwith just and generous principles. The youths ofthe “Etoile” too, who are of a humbler class insociety, were intelligently and ardently on our side.These poor fellows, with some of the university,formed themselves into a kind of body-guard tofollow and quietly surround M. de Meuron, Brideland others when they tried to hold meetings, and tostand between them and the showers of stones anddirt thrown at them. It was kind of them, poorboys! God will not forget it.

One of the things which made the mostimpression on me of all in Geneva was M. Favre’sprayer 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 confessionmade to us, to Switzerland, to the world. He spokeas a prophet, in broken sentences, and out of a heartbowed down under a sense of guilt and deepresponsibility, with a great need pressing on him to“cry aloud” as Jeremiah used to do. And he didnot beat about the bush as people too often do intheir prayers and confessions. He said quite simply,in a voice shaken with emotion,“Oh, how heartlessand cruel we have been, we Christians, all theseyears since 1875, when God sent His gentle messengerto us, of whom we heard with coldness anddisapproval. How cruel we have been! O God!we have left this little handful of despisedAbolitionists these twenty years, unhelped and230unheeded; left them without a word of sympathyand without friends, a little band, as we thought,influenced by some fanciful motive. All these yearswe have passed them by. Forgive us, O servants ofGod, forgive us! We have spoken of the higherlife and of consecration, and we have believed thatwe 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 wesee who Thy faithful ones are, O God—these humbleand just ones who have sown in tears these longyears, and whom Thou wilt recognise when theyshall be called home bearing their sheaves with them,while we—O brothers, let us fall down in the dustbefore Him.” And so he ended, as Daniel in hisgreat prayer of intercession, “O God, we have sinnedand our fathers have sinned. O God, forgive;O God, hear; O God, hearken and do.” I have notgot the words exactly (it was in French), but this isthe sense; and I listened almost in awe, as othersdid. It was the cry of distress, of a heart pent upwith the bitterness of repentance; a noble utteranceas of a true soul bowed in sackcloth and ashes.Therefore I am glad, glad, glad that all this hashappened, for how can repentance and new lifeever come to the careless, and to the most recklesssinners, unless it first comes to the “household ofGod?”

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 tosee him. He is, you recollect, our great opponent,editor of the Genevois. He received us with much231courtesy, and even gentleness, as if grateful for ourvisit. We had a long conversation, for about an hour.One thing in our conversation opened my eyes a littlemore on the situation. He said: “But, dear lady,what an awful thing, what a tyranny beyond allother tyrannies it would be, should your partytriumph, to have a renewal of the ancient sumptuarydiscipline, of the prying into the secrets of everyhousehold and of family life! It would be the mostwicked of tyrannies.” I was astonished, and withdifficulty persuaded him that such a thought was asdetestable to us as to him; that we had historicalevidence (in the Pilgrim Fathers) of the folly andfutility, as well as shame, of attempting to reachprivate immorality by the law, which means necessarilyby police and the most hateful espionage. Iwas thankful in my heart that since the beginning ofour crusade I had been convinced in my conscienceand understanding of the folly, and even wickedness,of all systems of outward repression of private immorality,for which men and women are accountableto God and their own souls; but not to the State.

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CHAPTER XVI.
PROPHETS AND PROPHETESSES.

The year 1896 was marked by the publication ofPersonal Reminiscences of a Great Crusade, in whichJosephine Butler gives a vivid history of the firstten years of the strenuous fight against the ContagiousDiseases Acts. She hoped to be able to continuethe history in a subsequent volume, but ill-healthprevented the fulfilment of this design.

In the following year the question of the healthof the Indian Army came very prominently againbefore the public eye. The passing of the Act of1895, which absolutely prohibited the compulsoryexamination of women, had been followed by amarked increase of disease, perhaps largely due tothe fact that the new measure had been accompaniedby the closing of the special hospitals in many of theCantonments, so that no opportunity was affordedof testing the effect of substituting the voluntarysystem of hospital treatment (always advocated byJosephine Butler and her fellow workers) for theold compulsory system. But, whatever the causemay have been, the statistics were such as to producea panic among persons, who were not accustomed tostudy statistics, and did not therefore realise thatfigures relating to a few years may often deceive,and that a true judgment can only be gained by carefulcomparison of facts and figures spread over longperiods. The panic was so great that a DepartmentalCommittee was appointed at the India Office toenquire into the matter; and the Governmentreceived several memorials on both sides of the233question. One of the memorials, praying for thereintroduction of the regulation system, was signedby women, including princesses and other ladies oftitle. This roused Josephine Butler to issue apassionate and powerful pamphlet, Truth beforeEverything.

My own countrywomen have been the first in theworld to set their seal to the infernal doctrine of thenecessity of vice, and to proffer to our ImperialGovernment before the whole world, what LadyFrederick Cavendish rightly styles their “counselsof despair.” The scene has changed indeed; weaccept the fact, and look it full in the face. Formy own part, I do so without alarm for our cause,and scarcely even with surprise, although my heartis wounded with a sense of shame, and I mourn forthose whose eyes are blinded to the truth. Men andwomen alike in the most exalted social classesfrequently possess extraordinarily little knowledgeof the conditions of life among the poor, and consequentlylittle sympathy with the humbler peoplewho are the most liable to suffer under grievancesimposed officially, over and above the hardshipsincidental to their condition. High rank itself tendsto confuse and obscure the mental vision on a subjectconcerning which, of all others, we need to know theinstincts and convictions of the people, and to makeroom for the expression of the great heart of toilingand suffering humanity, which still so largely beatstrue among us, and in all lands.

The Government however did not reintroduce theold regulation system, but while they expressly laiddown that no registration, and no periodical and234compulsory examination of women should be permitted,they suggested that the special diseases inquestion should be made notifiable and dealt within the same manner as other contagious diseases.Accordingly a new Cantonment Act was passed inthe same year, and new Cantonment Regulationsmade, under which women suspected of being diseasedmay be expelled from the Cantonments, unless theysubmit to medical treatment. Abolitionists havealways objected to these Regulations, which are stillin force, with some later modifications, because theyappear capable of being worked in such a way as toinvolve indirectly, but no less truly, the wholemethod of compulsion, which was inherent in theold system, and because the Act of 1895, whichexpressly prohibited registration and examination,has been repealed.

In May, 1897, Josephine Butler contributed toWings a short article on the “Joy of God,” part ofwhich is here given.

Jesus spoke much of His joy in His last wonderfulconversation with His disciples: “That my joy maybe in you, and that your joy may be full” (John xv, 11).His joy is His Father’s joy. I do not believe thatthat joy is ever interrupted. It flows on like a mightyriver, like God Himself, its source—infinite, unceasing,unfathomable joy; and Jesus offers us tobe sharers in it. It is not possible that the joyof God can be interrupted by the works of the devil,by his apparent present victories. God’s joycontinues, eternal like Himself, through all the evilsand sorrows and horrors of earth, and of the kingdomof darkness, for He sees beyond all. He knows thatthe end will be victory. Jesus feels for His people’ssufferings, and suffers with them; nevertheless235His joy is not diminished. It seemed to me oneday, as if for a moment I saw the Divine facelooking down at all that is taking place in these days,and (if I dare to express it) it seemed as if there weretears in those Divine and pitying eyes: yet all thetime there was a smile upon the lips, for while Hepitied He knew what the end would be, and Hesmiled.

It was a half-waking vision I had when I wasrecovering from illness at Lausanne. I felt as ifthe obstacles in the way of all our efforts for reformsand for blessing were like huge high walls blockingthe way and darkening the daylight on every side.But as I looked, and as I felt the pitying, smilingface of God, and all these walls got lower and lower,till they were quite low, and above and aroundthem all was God’s great sky, His open, clear, andglorious heavens, I sprang on the top of one of theselow walls (like some of the low vineyard walls inSwitzerland), and I shouted for joy and victory!

Later in the year she contributed a series of articlesto Wings, which were republished under the title,Prophets and Prophetesses: some thoughts for thepresent times. A French translation of this wasalso issued. The rest of the present chapter containsextracts from this volume.

How greatly are prophets and prophetessesneeded in these days, days in which the air is filledwith a confusion of voices—some of them mockingvoices, some of them wailing and sorrowful voices—whenfalse prophets abound, lying spirits, demonworshippers and materialists. The promise stands236in the Scriptures of God that He will send trueprophets and prophetesses in the latter days. Whereare they? Why is that promise not abundantlyfulfilled? It will be fulfilled if we, who believe Hisword, combine to ask its fulfilment. The word, toprophesy, is best translated by the learned as “toshow forth the mind of God” on any matter. Whata high gift! What a holy endowment this, to beenabled to show or set forth to man the mind orthought of God! In order to attain to that gift,the soul must live habitually in the closest unionwith God, in Christ, so as to realise the prayer of thesaint who cried, “Henceforth, O Lord, let me thinkThy thought and speak Thy speech.” Many even ofour holiest men and women live too active, toohurried a life, to be able to enter deeply into thethought of God, and thence to speak that thought tothe thirsty multitudes who are dimly seeking afterHim, and in their hearts crying, “Who will show usany good?”

That women as well as men were destined by Godto be prophets was fully acknowledged by St. Paul,by his acts as well as his words. He gave carefuldirections as to how women were to appear asprophetesses, so as to avoid the malicious criticismof the enemies of the new-born faith, ever on thewatch for some ground of accusation against theChristians. It is an astonishing and a melancholything that the churches and their ministers, and theChristian world in general through all these generations,should apparently have ignored or made lightof the following blessed fact, the fact that on the dayof Pentecost, the great day when the Holy Spirit237was poured forth on that multitude of all peoplesand nations gathered in Jerusalem, when the NewDispensation was inaugurated in which we now live,the Apostle Peter, in his magnificent first Pentecostalsermon, proclaimed the actual fulfilment on that day,and for all the days to come, of the promise of theprophet Joel, “I will pour out of my Spirit upon allflesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy;and on my servants and on my handmaidens I willpour out of my Spirit.”“This has come unto you,”said St. Peter, “which was spoken by the ProphetJoel.” Is it possible that the Church has everfully believed this, has ever truly heard or understoodthis mighty utterance from heaven, recorded firstin the Hebrew Scripture, and again at the greatinauguration of the Dispensation under which weare now living, a Dispensation of Liberty, Life,Impartiality, Equality, and Justice, in which thereis, or should be,“neither male nor female, neitherJew nor Greek”?

When Kepler, the great astronomer, was congratulatedon the wonderful discovery he had made—inwhat are now called Kepler’s Laws, on which Newtonbased his own still greater discoveries—he (Kepler),full of Christian humility, replied, “I have onlythought God’s thoughts after Him.” We need, andwe ask of God, prophets and prophetesses, seers,who will see as God sees, and who will judge of allthings in the light of God. They will be veryunpopular, these seers, if they are faithful. Manyof the humbler people will hear them gladly, but theworld will not love them. Quite the contrary.Conventional morality does not like to be disturbed;238the respectable as well as the disreputableprejudices of ages are hard to root up.

Never did the world and the Church need seersmore than at the present time. Looking at any ofthe great questions before us now—the relations ofnation to nation, and of the Anglo-Saxon race tothe heathen populations of conquered countries;questions of gold-seeking, of industry, of capitaland labour, of the influence of wealth, now so greata power in our country and its dependencies;questions of legal enactments, of the action ofGovernments, and innumerable social and economicproblems—we may ask, How much of the light ofheaven is permitted to fall on those questions?How many or how few are there among us who ask,and seek, and knock and wait, to know God’s thoughton these matters? The few, who do so, cease toaccept as a guide a daily newspaper, or the opinionof the Press generally, or the verdict of any class,theological, social, or political; nor even are theysatisfied to set their minds at rest by an appeal tothe best and wisest of the servants of God. Butin their measure they follow in the steps of theprophets of old. It is in the solitude of the soul,alone with God, that His thoughts are revealed.It is in great humility, in separation from the spiritof the world, in asking and receiving His spirit,“the spirit of truth,” which “shall guide us intoall truth,” that we learn to think His thoughts.

It requires much courage to be alone with God, toelect to retire for a time, and even for long times,and to listen to His voice only. It requires morecourage than is needed to meet human opposition239or to battle with an outward enemy, and is altogetherdifferent from worship in the congregation withothers around us. Let anyone who doubts thismake the trial, in humble determination, “I willnot let Thee go except Thou bless me,” until Thouadmittest me to the inner sanctuary of Thypresence, and speakest to me. For it is thenthat the keen searchlight of His presence revealsthe innermost recesses of the soul, so that the creaturewho has been bold enough to seek such a solitaryinterview with the Creator shall fall on his face,as Daniel did, in self-abasem*nt: “I Daniel fainted,and was sick certain days.” It is then that allwhich is of self, all subtle egotism—the egotismwhich takes such a multitude of forms—is searchedand hunted out of the soul. It cannot live in Hispresence. The praise of man becomes as dustbeneath the feet, and the soul trembles even toreceive any honour of men, or to be recognised inthis world as of any worth.

It is then also, that the great enemy of soulsessays to draw near, bringing all his forces to bearon that divinely bold but humbled creature, andseeking to wreck the blessing which he knows mustcome of such an interview between Christ and ahuman soul. It is then that he disputes every inchof the ground sought to be won on that day by theSaviour, and by the disciple whom His spirit hasstirred up to draw thus awfully near to Him. Jesuswas “led of the Spirit” into the wilderness to betempted of the Devil. It is in the very heart of thisgreat dispute between our God and Satan, and insuch a solitude, that some of the deepest truths are240learned, and that God speaks. Then the enemyis defeated, and only the light is left, the lightwhich was sought and which reveals God’s thought.And what is the sequel of such an encounter?There are many who can bear witness that the enemy,discouraged by the courage of the humble anddetermined soul, departs never to return, and thenit pleases the Lord sometimes, in His great love andpity, to grant to His child, in a measure, thatcommunion which the Hebrew saint had, withwhom God spoke face to face as a man speakswith his friend.

We are not all called to be teachers, or to declarealoud the mind of God; not all called to prophesy.But all are invited to draw near to Him, to comenearer and nearer, and the humblest, the leastgifted or least intelligent, who will elect to receive everat first hand and from the fountain-head, and notonly from secondary sources, light, life and knowledge,becomes, whether he knows it or not, amedium of spiritual life and true thoughts to others,in proportion to the grace given to him.

“Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither haveentered into the heart of man, the things which Godhath prepared for them that love Him. But Godhath revealed them unto us by His spirit; for theSpirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things ofGod.” These words are frequently understood tobe spoken of the other life beyond the grave, and ofthe beauties and glories of our heavenly home, which,as yet, no eye of those living on earth has ever seen.This limited interpretation is not warranted by the241latter half of the announcement, “But God hathrevealed them unto us by His Spirit.” The illuminationof the Spirit is not a promise of the future only;it is given here on earth to all who seek and wait forit in truth and singleness of heart. We are livingto-day under the dispensation of the Spirit, and thereis no limit to the fulness of the promise to those whoask.

Those things therefore, those hidden and deepthings of God which we cannot apprehend by thenatural eye or ear, and which cannot be conceived bythe highest and purest flights of imagination of onewhose thoughts do not yet flow in unison with God’sthoughts—those things may be revealed to us byHis Spirit; and they are so revealed to those whomfrom time to time He draws aside for solitary communionwith Him, and whom He may, if He wills,appoint to speak His speech to all who will hear.One needful condition for attaining to the seeing eyeand the hearing ear in the things of God is soul-leisure,quietness, calm and concentration of spirit.Earth’s voices must be silenced for a time, that thevoice of God—the“still small voice”—may beheard by the waiting soul. “In returning and restshall ye be saved. In quietness and in confidenceshall be your strength.”

I seem to hear a deep sigh from the heart of manya true servant of God, “faint yet pursuing,” whosesoul is athirst for the Living God and for the calmand the silence in which he may hear the Divinevoice, but who sees no way of escape from thepressing claims of earthly duty. The case of such(which has also been my own) calls forth my deepest242sympathy. “With God all things are possible.”Cease from conflict with circ*mstances, from this“toiling in rowing,” from this breathless swimmingagainst the tide. Put the matter into His hands.“There was silence in heaven about the space ofhalf an hour” at His command; silence even of theangelic voices. He can create a silence around you,and trace a clear path for your feet to enter into theHoly of Holies, where you shall find Him and hearHis voice.

But even then—perhaps you tell me—when thepressure of earthly claims is lightened, and a seasonis granted in which nothing from without holds youback, and you enter alone into His presence, eventhen it is found impossible to concentrate the mind,to shake off outward anxieties and the intrusion ofrestless thoughts concerning the work of your life.The well by which you rest is deep and full, but youhave “nothing to draw with.” The opportunity isthere, but the soul is dry, and the brain inexpressiblywearied. Again, “with God all things are possible,”and “all things are possible to him that believeth.”Put this also into His hands—this incapacity forrest, even when the hour of rest is granted. Heknows the deep desire of your heart to draw near toHim. Your desire for communion with Him isprompted and created by His own desire to drawnear to you, to grant you the anointed eyes of ahumble seer, and to impart to you His own deepsecrets of love.

But to many this thirst of the soul is unknown, oronce known is suffered to rest unslaked. Manycontinue to postpone and to subordinate the claims243of the spiritual life to the constantly pressing claims(sacred claims also) of their fellow creatures, and ofthe good works in which they are engaged. At thelast, when earth’s claims are fading and the spirit iscalled into the presence of God, conscience will speak,and the poor soul may reproach itself in the spirit ofthe lament which Shakespeare put into the mouth ofWolsey in his last moments: “O Cromwell, Cromwell!had I but served my God with half the zealthat I have served my king!” In the clearer lightof eternity all things assume their right proportion.We have worked, we have slaved for duty, we haveworn ourselves out in the service of humanity.That is good, that is noble; yet an inward voice willtell us in some silent hour that we should have workedbetter and served humanity better had we possessedthe moral force to withdraw at times from life’scrowded avenues, had we firmly refused some of thethousand claims which pressed upon us in order thatour speech and our action might have possessedmore of the Divine, more of “spirit and of life.”

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CHAPTER XVII.
THE STORM-BELL.

This was the motto of the Storm-Bell, a periodicalin which Josephine Butler published her thoughtsmonth by month from January, 1898, to August,1900. We give in this chapter some specimens ofthese thoughts of hers.

Sir James Stansfeld, the dear friend and leader ofour cause, has passed over to the other side. Thereare judgments on earth of men’s acts, and there arejudgments in heaven. It is not improbable that theparts of his life and character regarded as the leastpraiseworthy on earth will appear up there as thebrightest parts of all. He had nothing to gain, andmuch to lose by separating himself in a measure fromhis colleagues in office, and setting aside chances ofbrilliant promotion and political prestige in order todescend with us into the inferno of human woe, tobring a gleam of hope to that world of doomedwomen, who more than all human sufferers are castout from the favour of earth and the light of heaven.I have seldom met with a man who had so much ofthe woman’s heart in this matter. He had so deep a245respect for womanhood, even at its worst, and somuch tenderness for the fallen, that—like anothergreat friend of Mazzini—he felt“instinctively theimpulse to lift his hat when he met one of that sadsisterhood in the street, as a mark of his reverencefor her poor wrecked womanhood, which would nothave been ruined but for the co-operation (to use nosterner word) of the stronger being—man”.

When he first appeared for us in public, and foryears after, he was pretty well baited and abused innewspapers of the Saturday Review type as a “faddist,”a champion of the “shrieking sisterhood,” a“friend,” in fact, of “publicans and sinners.” Allthat is past for him. His record is in Heaven. Hedoes not need, he never needed, and never desiredthe poor praise of men. The quality which standsout the most prominently in my remembrance of himis his courage, his dauntless hope and confidence offinal victory in a good cause. That cheerful confidence,that pluck characterised him to the very last.I wish there were more like him in this. I neverremember to have heard a word from him indicatinga feeling of depression about our work, not even at itsdarkest times. Good workers in a good cause, evenwhen they know it to be God’s cause, sometimes fallinto a minor key, and utter sad wails concerning thegathering clouds, the dark outlook, and the power ofevil. I do not think, that with all his command ofspeech, our friend would have known how to formulateany such wail.

He was a born forlorn hope leader. No one is fitor safe to lead, or even I would say to follow, in amisunderstood and unpopular cause, or ever so246humble a forlorn hope, who has not attained to somuch of self-control as to be able to close his lips if hehas reason to fear any utterance may be comingforth from them which is not a note of victory.Courage and faith are highly infectious. A sigh, ora sad look, or a “but” from a leader is equallyinfectious, and not in a good sense. Sometimes theyare disastrous. And after all what is this kind ofcourage except moral faith? It is that faith in Godand in His eternal promise which removes mountains,and which sees hope in the darkest hour, and morethan hope—certainty of victory. The love of justiceand liberty was born in him; it was in his bones, so tospeak. From his youth upward he was an uncompromisingdefender of those principles, which havecontributed to the true greatness of England; and sofar he was, as he often said himself, a Conservative,for he was jealous for the conservation of principlesand truths, which Tories and Radicals alike lose sightof when personal and party ambition begins to takethe first place with them, to the exclusion of what isnobler and worthier than one’s wretched self or one’spoor party. He was also an international man in thebest sense. His friends, good men of other countries,felt the warmth of his friendship and thesoundness of his judgment to be untainted by narrowor insular prejudices.

A great Spanish politician, Señor Emilio Castelar,16published some thirty years ago a manifesto, in which247he set forth the doctrines and principles of what heconsidered a true and moderate Republicanism. Heexpressed his belief that Democracy can never attainto any lasting reforms and real progress unless it holdsin respect the best elements of national life—itshistory, religious faith, and most honourable traditions;and he therefore earnestly called upon theLiberals of Spain (a minority impatient of the stagnationof life in their nation) to give up their positionof conspirators, to avoid all violence, and to seekreform by organised and legal action, and so toeducate themselves and their countrymen for abetter state of government and national life. Hiswords and actions won for him and his group offriends the title of Los hombres de manana, “the menof to-morrow.”

For the salvation of our country, and indeed of theworld, we need that there should arise amongst usmen of to-morrow, and women of to-morrow, thatthere should be watchmen on all our watch-towers,more than in times past, who will “watch for themorning,” and be able, with a clear and unfalteringvoice, to answer the cry of their brethren, “Watchman,what of the night?” Such men and womenof to-morrow will possess a living, though often asilent power, in the midst of all the noise and hurryof our social and political life; they will be not onlythe party of true progress, but the party of trueconservatism, watchers for and guardians of thepreservation of precious principles which are constantlythreatened with destruction.

It is not enough to be wide-awake men of to-day.There is an urgent need for some among us to look248on in advance. We need seers as well as workers.History teaches us how much we need them, and howmuch of human suffering has been needlessly inflictedand prolonged by the want of such seers amongmen. Especially is this evident in the moral andpolitical life of a nation. A leader in politics of theearly half of the century, speaking of a wrong towhich he wished to put his hand in order to removeit, said, “We did not know, we did not perceive; andonly now we are learning, and only now we begin tosee.” There is a deep sadness in this confession, evenwhen humbly and honestly made. It brings to ourminds the words, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, if thouhadst known the things that belong to thy peace;but now they are hid from thine eyes.” It is wellto ask ourselves truthfully before God, “How farhas such ignorance the character of moral guilt?”And it is well that we should realise that that moralguilt of ignorance needs none the less to be repentedof and purged away because it is shared by thousandsand because it may even be chiefly laid to the chargeof generations gone by. Daniel the prophet was agreat patriot and a wise politician. His confessionwas, We and our fathers have sinned; and prophet-like,and like a high priest of the people, he pleadedwith God, as if he himself bore on his shoulders alonethe guilt of the whole nation, in the past and thepresent.

It is impossible for the Christian patriot to lookforward to the future of our English race, and eveninto the next few years, without some misgiving.The outlook also for the whole of Europe and of theworld seems charged with the clouds and portents249of a coming storm. “The morning cometh, and alsothe night.” The shadows of night will deepen, andthe darkness increase awhile, before the glad cry isheard: “The morning cometh.”“Now is comethe kingdom of our God and of His Christ.” Godgrant that heaven-taught spirits may again ariseamong us, not only one here and there, but many,like the stars appearing in the firmament as theshadows of evening deepen into night. God has suchin preparation, I cannot doubt. They are arising—theprophets and prophetesses, the seers of thelatter days. They are found and will be foundamong those who elect to live in the silence verynear to God, and who realise in the most tenderlyhuman sense the saving friendship of Christ.

A mother writes: “I fear he is going to the bad.”This she says of her son, her only son, who has lefthome to serve his country. “I fear he is going tothe bad, but I must,” she says, “be like the womanin the Bible, who came to Jesus to cast the devil outof her daughter, and would not leave Him till Hedid it.” Yes, poor mother, you must, you must.That is your only hope; and you will conquer, onlyhold on. A mother’s love is most like the love ofGod of any human love. He made the mother’sheart, and He knows it to its depths. Secrets havebeen revealed to mothers which have not beenshared by any other human being. Your heart isfixed, trusting in the Lord. You shall not be“afraid of evil tidings.” If troubling reports reachyou, and if things seem to have come to the worst,and friends speak coldly of your son, and shake their250heads (as even Christian friends will do) over yourhope and confidence, yet hold on. You havesuffered, they perhaps have not. They are“miserable comforters,” though they think they arespeaking truly, and for your good. Listen to thevoice of God only; look into the face of Jesus only—asshe did, the Syrophenician mother, of whom thedisciples only said, “Send her away.” Those, whohave never known a mother’s woes, know little of theconsolations God has for mothers, nor of the secretswhich He reveals to them. “I have been with Godin the dark. Go, you may leave me alone!” Thusa mother spoke concerning her dead son, whenneighbours bewailed him as a lost soul. “I have beenwith God in the dark,” not in the light only, whenthere is hope and outward evidence to cheer the heart,but in the dark. It is in the dark that His light shinesthe brightest. One hour with Him, alone, in thedark, in the gloom of despair and helpless woe, hastaught me more than years when I walked in the lightof happy and hopeful circ*mstances. I fear nothingnow, for I have been alone with God in the dark.Hold on, poor mother! Christ has given us His wordof honour. That is enough for you and me.

A picture is now held up before the eyes of thewhole world of the consequences which may waitupon an injustice inflicted on a single human being.All eyes are fixed upon the bitter conflict ragingaround the fate of that solitary prisoner in the Devil’sIsland. A combination of unusual and wondrouslysignificant circ*mstances has caused this case tobecome a cause célèbre, engrossing the interest of251the whole civilised world. We may thank Godindeed for the deep teachings of this terrible drama.But let us think for a moment of the thousands whohave suffered as much, and more than this typicalvictim; of the crushed hearts of the host of womenand men whose martyrdom has been known to nonebut God; or if known or guessed, has been unheeded,the sufferers being of humble rank, of charactersuspect, friendless, poor, and uncared for. Theircry has entered into the ears of the God of Sabaoth,as much as the “sorrowful sighing” of those nobleprisoners of to-day. That great injustice, againstwhich the “elect spirits” of France are so noblyprotesting, could scarcely have been perpetratedamong a people trained in respect for justice, and ina measure of self-restraint. It has beneath it afoundation of stricken souls and outraged hearts.It has been built up upon a Golgotha. Those whohave eyes to see are beginning to see that the smokeof the impious sacrifice of even one of the humblestand most insignificant of human beings may serve tocloud the heavens, and to shut out the favour ofGod from a nation; and what must it be when thatone is multiplied by thousands?

For thirty years past I have pleaded as well as Icould the cause of the outcast. The time may notbe long in which I shall be permitted to continue toplead it in this world. Pardon me then, Christianpeople—and all just men and just women, Christianor not—for uttering this cry from the depths of mysoul at this close of the year, and approaching closeof the century. The happiest of women myself inall the relations of life, God has done me the great252favour of allowing me in a manner to be, for thesethirty years, the representative of the outcast, of“the woman of the city who was a sinner.” It isher voice which I utter. Oh, hear it, I beseech you!It is by right of the great sorrow with which Godpierced my heart long ago for His outcasts, that Ispeak; a sorrow which will never be whollycomforted till the day when I shall see millions ofthose cold, dead hands now stretched upon thethreshold of our social and national life lifted to thethrone of God in adoring and wondering praise forHis final deliverance.“Thy dead men shall live”—allwho have been done to death in sorrow andanguish; and God shall wipe the tears from allfaces. And even for the present, for the near futurethere is hope, abundant hope, for Jehovah reigns,and the day of sifting has dawned.

My heart is often pained by hearing good womenreiterate the statement that “men cannot be expectedto exercise the self-restraint which is expectedof women.” They say, “Men cannot be strictlyvirtuous; we women do not know what they have toovercome, nor the force of their temptations; infact they must sin.” And women, even Christianwomen, whisper this the one to the other, even totheir daughters, and so the low standard is perpetuated.The women who foster this opinion seemnot to perceive that in announcing it they are(unconsciously probably) bringing a terrible accusationagainst God. They are representing Him as notonly an illogical, but a cruel and unjust Being.What are the facts? God has created man with a253conscience and with a will. He has given to man aLaw and has attached penalties to the breaking ofthat Law; and yet you say that He has so createdman that it is not possible for him to obey that Law.If this doctrine is widely accepted by women, it isno wonder that so many of them are atheists at heart.How can you, how can I reverence such a God asyou represent Him to be? You might as well askme to love and worship Baal or Moloch or Juggernautas such a God as that. But it is not as you say.Look a little deeper.

It has been imposed upon me from time to timeduring my long life work to speak with men on thispoint—not only with men of blameless life, but withothers who have fallen low. “Is it indeed the verytruth,” I have asked, “that you absolutely cannotresist temptation?” And the answer has generallybeen, if coming from an honest heart, “I couldresist if I determined to do so;” or,“I could oncehave resisted and overcome, but now——” Ah,there is the secret, the sorrowful truth! After repeatedand continual yielding, the will of man comesto be broken down. There comes upon him that mostfatal of all moral diseases, the paralysis of the will;what he could do once he can no longer do. Thewill is as the citadel of a beleaguered city; when thecitadel is taken the whole city yields, and then it maybe and is true that there comes a time when the mancannot any longer combat or resist.

Shall we then, in so terrible a case as this, seeingsuch men and such women gliding down the slipperyincline, regard them as hopeless, as beyond recovery?Shall we go on repeating the fatalist’s doctrine, which254we hear so much around us, that it cannot be helped,it must be so, the man must go on sinning, hecannot recover himself? No, a thousand times no.With God all things are possible. He can restorepower to the paralysed will, even as He can raise thedead. He does it, and we have seen with our eyesthese His miracles of power and love.

And how, you ask me, by what means may sucha restoration be accomplished? Replying from myown experience, I would say it is brought about veryfrequently by means of the divinely energised willsof others—chiefly of those creatures so dear to God,those mothers, wives, sisters, daughters and friendswho have, through the teaching of the heart and theinspiration of God, learned and embraced thatholiest of all ministries, the ministry of intercession.It has been said that the nearest, shortest way to aman’s heart is round by the throne of God. It istrue. Direct advice, counsel, and warning to thosewho err may sometimes be effectual, and especiallywith the young. But too often they are whollyuseless, and even excite antagonism. But the love,the power, the promise of God never fail.

But you tell me, “Oh, I am not good enough to prayfor others, and to receive answers to my prayer.”This is a great mistake. What is our goodness toGod? We are none of us good. Think of all thepeople mentioned in the Gospels who sought afterChrist. What was it that brought them to His feet?It was not their goodness, but their great needs, wantsand desires, their miseries, their sicknesses, theirdeep heart griefs, and the griefs and miseries of thosedear to them. Our only claim in coming to Him is255that we need Him and want Him. There is noneother. It is written that God “turned the captivityof Job when he prayed for his friends.” We learnto know God in drawing near to Him on behalf ofothers. We fathom the deeper treasures of His lovein pleading for those whom we love.

I hear people say sometimes, “But I have prayedfor So-and-so for weeks, for months, and I havereceived no answer.” This reminds me of a littleboy who made some childish request of God, andended his prayer by saying, “I will wait three weeks,God, and no more.” We limit God. We measurethe great work of His Spirit by the span of our littlelives. We must rise above that thought, withcourage and patience, and persistent trust andconfidence, remembering that His years are notlimited. He has all eternity to work in, all eternityin which to remember and fulfil our hearts’ desires.

When the case is one the issues of which reach intoeternity, when it is the bringing from darkness intolight of an immortal spirit, when it is the trainingand teaching of a soul, the correction of faults whichsometimes requires a whole life’s discipline, or theevolution of some great good from a family’s or anation’s griefs, then all childish impatience is out ofplace, foolish, and fatal often to the very fulfilmentof that which is desired. “Though it tarry, wait forit,” said the seer, “because it will surely come.”

But your sad hearts are asking still concerning thewanderers whom you love. Is there no balm inGilead? Is there no physician there? There is,there is. There is hope, not only for the weak anderring, but for the criminal who has been guilty of256the moral death of another, for him on whose headrests the guilt of cruelty and treachery. “Nazarene,Thou hast conquered,” were the last words of Julianthe Apostate, at the close of a lifetime of rebellionand defiance. The Nazarene is a great conqueror.The heart of the most scornful of the rebels againstGod’s holy laws may be broken, softened and laidbare to the healing dews of heaven; and his eyesmay be opened to see, like Hagar, close at hand awell of water which he knew not of.

In speaking of life and love to some of the mostfallen and wrecked of men and women, it has sometimesappeared as if I were speaking into the earsof a corpse, of one in whom there remains no longerany conscience or will to respond to the call of God.Sometimes I have been answered by the wildestblasphemies on the part of men, who later asked withhungry eyes, “Tell me truly, is there any hope forme?” Love is not easily persuaded that themoment of death has arrived. Love, like Rizpah,watches with a constancy stronger than death bythe silent corpses of her dearly beloved and longed-for,with all her strength denying that they shallbe given as carrion to the wolves and the vultures.

Suffer me to recall an incident, one only. Onentering the ward of a large city hospital, reservedfor women of the lowest class, I met the chaplainleaving the ward, his hands pressed upon his earsin order to shut out the sound of a torrent ofblasphemy and coarse abuse, hurled after him byone of the inmates to whom he had spoken as hisconscience had prompted him, and under a sinceresense of duty. I drew near to that woman. She257was hideous to look at, dying and raging; a marriedwoman who had had children and lost them, who hadlived the worst of lives, descending lower and lower.She had been kicked (as it proved, to death) by theman, her temporary protector. Her broken ribshad pierced some internal organ, and there was nocure possible. Though dying, she was hungry, asindeed she had been for years, and was tearing likea wild beast at some scraps of meat and breadwhich had been given to her. An unseen powerurged me to go near to her. Was it possible foranyone to love such a creature? Could she inspireany feeling but one of disgust? Yes, the Lordloved her, loved her still, and it was possible for onewho loved Him to love the wretch whom He loved.I do not recollect what I said to her, but it was lovewhich spoke. She gazed at me in astonishment,dropped her torn-up food, and flung it aside. Shetook my hand, and held it with a death-grip. Shebecame silent, gentle. Tears welled from the eyeswhich had been gleaming with fury. The poor soulhad been full to the brim of revenge and bitternessagainst man, against fate, against God. But nowshe saw something new and strange; she heardthat she was loved, she believed it, and wastransformed.

I loved her. It was no pretence, and she knew it.At parting I said, “I will come again,” and shegasped, “Oh, you will, you will!” I came againthe morning of the next day. The nurse told methat she died at midnight, quiet, humble, “aspeaceful as a lamb,” always repeating,258 “Has shecome back? She will come again. Is she coming?Yes, she will come again.” If I had been asked,as I sometimes am, “But had she any clear perceptionof her own sinfulness, did she understand, etc.?”I could give no answer. I know not. I only knowthat love conquered, and that He who inspired thelove which brought the message of His love to theshipwrecked soul knew what He was doing, anddoes not leave His work incomplete.

It is told among the many beautiful incidents ofthe early Church, that a young Roman soldier,converted to Christianity, and received as a catechumen,awaiting baptism, was called to serve in thefield with the legion to which he belonged. The nightafter a battle, he found himself lying under thestars wounded and faint. Near him a fellow-soldierin the same condition as himself was groaningheavily. The night was cold, and his comrade’swounds were exposed to the frosty air. “Take mycloak,” whispered Martin; and though in sore pain,and shivering himself, he folded his cloak tenderlyaround his comrade and fell asleep. Then there arosebefore him in his sleep a strange and beautiful vision.He saw in the skies a number of angelic beings andsaints in light, in the midst of whom stood theSaviour, clothed in “raiment white and glistening,”and—strange!—wearing on His kingly shoulders,over the resplendent white, the poor, torn, bloodstainedcloak of a Roman soldier. As Martin gazedin astonishment, the Saviour smiled, and turning toHis angelic attendants said,259 “Behold Me with thecloak which Martin the catechumen hath given Me!For inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of theleast of these my brethren, ye have done it untoMe.”

In one of the African provinces of Rome, partlyChristianised, there occurred in the second century asore famine. The inhabitants were driven to terriblestraits. In a certain town, it is recorded by oneof the old chroniclers, there lived a saintly bishop—notone of “my lords” of modern times, dwellingin a palace, but a humble shepherd or overseer of ascanty flock gathered out of the heathen city in whichhe dwelt. There lived in the same city a poor streetmusician, called Xanthus, an ignorant fellow of nogood reputation. When the famine had enduredsome months, and Xanthus’ body presented theappearance of a walking skeleton, he saw, one eveningin the twilight, a female form at the corner of astreet, with the figure and bearing of a refined lady,though closely veiled and wearing a poor, used, blackrobe. She was holding out her hand for alms andreceiving none, and worn and faint she yielded to thestress of hunger, and was about to accept the lastterrible resource of selling her own person to apasser-by, who was apparently far above want.Penetrated with a sudden feeling of pity and horror,Xanthus interposed, and reverently begged the ladyto accept of such poor help as he could give her.“Lady, I have little, but all I have shall be yoursuntil these times of tribulation are over.” She movedtowards him without replying, her tears alone provingher grateful acceptance of his aid. He led her backto her abode, and from that time forward he workedfor her day and night, plying to the utmost his poorskill as a musician, affecting a cheerful manner, and260adding to his fiddling various tricks and jokes toarrest the attention of the citizens who crossed hispath. Every day he brought to the lady (for such shewas) his modest gains, finding her food, and waitingon her, deeming it an honour that she should acceptthe help of such a creature as he.

The famine over, she was restored to her formerposition; but Xanthus fell ill, and his music andjokes were no more heard in the streets. Friendlessand forlorn, he lay dying, when the good bishopabove-named was visited in a dream by a heavenlymessenger, who bade him go to such a street and sucha house and find there a man called Xanthus, for“the Lord would have mercy on him.” Awakingfrom his sleep, the good bishop obeyed. He enteredthe place—more like a dog’s kennel than a humandwelling—where Xanthus lay. “Xanthus!” hecried, “the Lord Jesus Christ hath sent me to youto bring you glad tidings.”“How! to me—to me—yourGod has sent you to me! No, there is a mistake.I am the street-fiddler, Xanthus, the most miserable,God-forsaken of men—a man who has done nothingbut ill all his life.” Then the good bishop recalledto the memory of Xanthus (this having been revealedto him) the day when he turned back a temptedfellow-creature from sin, and the weeks in which hesustained her, at the cost of his own life; and headded, “The Lord bids me say to you, that, for thiscup of cold water you have given to one of Hisredeemed creatures, you shall in no wise lose yourreward. Your sins are forgiven. Christ says toyou, ‘This day you shall be with Me in paradise.’”And so it came to pass that Xanthus died that day,261his poor heart, it is said, broken; but not withsorrow; broken through excess of joy, through thethrill of astonished gladness at the heavenly greeting,and the wondrous announcement that the Lord ofGlory had deigned to notice and acknowledge theone redeeming act of his life. “Inasmuch as yehave done it unto one of the least of these Mybrethren, ye have done it unto Me.”

Not in the times of old, but quite lately, in HydePark, London, on a sultry day in summer, there layunder one of the trees a poor sheep, panting, dyingfrom the heat. By its side there kneeled a little raggedboy, a street arab, his tears marking gutters in thedust of his soiled face. He had run down to the wateragain and again and filled his little cloth cap withwater, which he held to the mouth of the sheep,bathing its nose and eyes, until it began to show signsof returning life, speaking to it all the time lovingwords such as his own mother may have spoken tohim. A gentleman walking near stopped, andlooking with amusem*nt at the child, said, “Youseem awfully sorry for that beast, boy.” Thecynical tone of the speaker seemed to grieve thelittle boy, and with a flushed face he replied, in a toneof indignant and tearful protest, “It is God’s sheep.”The gentleman grunted and walked away. I feltthe presence there of One who said to that child:“Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of theleast of these My brethren, you have done it untoMe.”

If the spirit of that boy were fully shared by evena fraction of our Christian population, the brutalityand sin of the vivisection of God’s creatures would262soon become a forbidden and unknown thing amongus. Our Lord’s words concerning the humblest ofthe animal creation are no mere figure of speech.He meant what He said. There is a penalty attachedto contempt for or oblivion of those words of His, asof every other word He spoke. “Are not fivesparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of themis forgotten before God.” The price of a sparrowwas half a farthing, but in case one of four sold mightpossibly be very small, ill-fed, and not worth its half-farthing,a fifth was “thrown in” to insure thepurchaser from loss. Yet even the presumablyworthless fifth sparrow was “not forgotten beforeGod.” When the prophet Jonah was in a badhumour because his prophecy of destruction toNineveh had not been fulfilled, and his shelteringgourd had withered, God said to him: “Thou hasthad pity on the gourd, which came up in a night,and perished in a night: and should not I spareNineveh, that great city, wherein are more thansixscore thousand persons that cannot discernbetween their right hand and their left hand; andalso much cattle?”“His mercies are over all Hisworks.” He cares for every living thing.

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CHAPTER XVIII.
TWO CONFERENCES.

An International Conference was held in Brusselsin 1899, for the purpose of considering and promotinginternational action for the preventive treatment ofvenereal diseases. As the programme of theConference was expressly limited to the administrativeand medical aspects of the question, andtook no account of matters of moral and social order,the Abolitionist Federation declined to take anypart officially in the proceedings, although individualmembers of the Federation accepted invitations toattend. The results of the Conference were asurprise to everyone, being in the nature of atriumph for Abolitionist principles. The prophets,who had been called together to bless the Regulationsystem, found themselves almost with one accordled by the spirit of truth to curse it. This Conference,and the Conference of the Federation which tookplace the same year at Geneva, were dealt with inThe Storm-Bell in three articles, which are here givenwith some omissions.

It was very impressive to me and others to hearat our Geneva Conference an account of the BrusselsConference from Dr. Fiaux of Paris, who hadattended it, and who with others had nobly foughtthe battle of the Abolitionists. His report was ofsuch a nature as to fill our hearts with thanksgiving,wonder and praise. The Conference of Brussels, as264my readers know, was convened with the confessedpurpose of proposing an appeal to the EuropeanGovernments to establish a uniform system ofRegulation—of in fact patching up, if possibleperfecting and making universal the unlawful anddegrading system which we oppose. The convenersof the Conference were however, it seems, sincere andopen-minded men; and the numerous medical andother disputants, who came delegated from differentcountries of Europe, and who were attached to theevil system, regarding only the material and medicalside of the great question, appear to have beenshaken in their views, and to have been compelled,even by the confessions of some leading Regulationists,to see that their theories are untenable, andthat the system they have so many years upheldis as it were hanging in rags, a miserable failure,an old worn out and infected garment, into whichit is worse than useless to introduce patches of newcloth.

Almost all the delegates, of whom the immensemajority were Regulationists, acknowledged duringthe Conference that they had come there to learn,implying that they had need of knowledge. Thereseemed to prevail an open-mindedness, which hadnot been anticipated. Some of the English medicaldelegates, full of the old prejudices in favour of thesystem of combined slavery and license, must havegone home knowing more than they did before.Finally two resolutions were passed. One of theresolutions was in favour of an appeal to all theGovernments to take measures for the better protectionof minor girls, in order to prevent their being265drafted into the service of organised vice; andanother was to the effect that it is desirable thatdoctors should be better educated in the matterof the maladies in question. These harmlessresolutions were voted unanimously.

An observant delegate wrote: “We all have theimpression that the Regulationists now fullyrecognise us (of the Federation) as a force which theymust in future reckon with.” A clearer idea of theinfluence, which was at work in winning for us thisvictory, was granted to me while listening toDr. Fiaux’s report at Geneva. He spoke of aninfluence which hovered over the Conference fromthe first day to the last; an influence whichrestrained, which prevented rash or erroneouspropositions, an influence which he believed toproceed from the gradually increasing tide ofawakened and changed public opinion, and to whichhe attributed a kind of spiritual force, a restrainingand guiding force. He asserted that it was feltby all, that it tended to check all violence ofopposition, and disposed the minds of the delegatesto accept a position of enquiry, and to begin againafresh the study of the question, rather than to holdto the conservation of the system, in which they couldnot any longer place absolute confidence. Morethan once Dr. Fiaux endeavoured to describe thisinfluence, raising his hands above his head toillustrate something which hovered over the assembly,resting above it and making itself felt. Those of us,who have asked that an influence above and beyondall, that we ourselves by our utmost effort canexercise, might come to our aid when the opposing266principles should thus meet in conflict, will understandwhat all this means, and will give thanks.

We have often watched the light thistledown, thewinged seed, mount in the air and disappear, carriedby the breeze who knows where? We only know itwill settle somewhere, drop, die, live again, and springup to bear in its turn “fruit after its kind.” Thecareer of that special seed is denounced bycultivators as mischievous. But there are good seedsalso with wings, which silently travel about theworld, plant themselves and bear fruit for which allmen bless them. It is of the latter kind that I wantto say a word.

I do not think that as yet any adequateappreciation of the character of our last SeptemberConference in Geneva, and its results, has appearedin our English Abolitionist Press. I should like, ifpossible, in some degree to supply that omission.That Conference has been spoken of in severalEnglish reports as “a Conference of members of theFederation.” It was not exactly so. It would bequite correct to say it was a Conference organisedby the Federation (and splendidly organised it wasby the brave little group of members of the Federationin Geneva). But we have never yet had such acrowded Conference organised by us, at which werepresent so few members of the Federation. We werea mere handful from England. Several of our allieswhom we generally see from other countries did notappear, while many of our prominent members onthe Continent and in England were prevented fromcoming by illness or other circ*mstances. Yet we267had crowded sessions every day and all day. Thestriking feature of that Conference was the influxto it of new adherents to our principles, many ofwhom we had never seen, or never even heard of.Adherents to our principles they were, but notmembers of the Federation; nor did they, with veryfew exceptions, become there and then members ofthe Federation. And herein lies the encouragementof which I wish to speak. It is in connection withthis fact that I wish my English friends to takecourage and thank God with me. They flocked tous—these new adherents to our principles fromFrance, from Belgium, from Germany, from Italy, etc.There were among them persons of many differentcreeds and opinions, and an extraordinary numberof leaders of the Press from different countries,more especially of that enlightened Press minorityin France who fought so hard and so noble a battle(in the Dreyfus case) in favour of justice. Therewere with us also many distinguished ladies—distinguishedmorally and intellectually—who for thefirst time greeted us as allies. Those who were at thepublic evening meeting in the Great Hall of theReformation must have been struck by the immensevariety of nationality, character, creed, and opinionof those who took part in it; and at the same timeby the perfect unity, heart, and downrightness ofthat vast assembly in regard to the great questionof Justice for which the Federation labours. Manywere asking,268 “How has this come about? Whatenergising and purifying wind has been blowingthrough Europe to bear towards us this newunexpected ‘cloud of witnesses’ to testify thattruth gains ground in its own mysteriousway?”

It seems to me that we—the Federation—arelike persons who, wishing to propagate some beautifulflower, should have carefully laid out a garden,hedged it round, dug it well, and then sown in itabundantly the seed which was to produce thebeautiful flower. We took great pains with ourgarden. We sowed our seeds in rows, neatly andmeasuredly, perhaps a little formally. We arrangedwith our under-gardeners, training them, and turningthem off if they did not suit. Perhaps we pottereda little sometimes, but always with the one desire atheart of seeing some day a great harvest of thisbeautiful flower—a flower of such pure colour, andwholesome hygienic qualities. Sometimes we sighed,in times of drought or of failure of “hands” for thework. But lo! a day came when the assembledgardeners, coming together to reckon up the resultsof their work, happened to look over the hedge,and with astonishment noted that the country allround, fields and hillsides, on which they had notbestowed any personal labour, were ablaze with theazure of the beautiful flower which they hadcultivated so carefully in their garden. They hadforgotten that seeds have wings, and that they couldsilently distance the garden fence and fly afar.So with the principles which we have cultivated.

There were at Geneva young men, pastors from theFrench provinces, whose prayers at our morningdevotional meetings were an echo of the depths ofmy own heart; and there were young women,some very young, looking in whose faces I asked269myself, “How and where have these young peoplelearned that zeal for justice, that pity for oppressedwomanhood, and that grave view of life which weof the Federation could however never, and lessnow than ever, imagine to be the monopoly ofexperienced workers?”

The Conference of Brussels pre-eminently broughtto us the lesson of the “Winged Seed.” The speechof Dr. Fiaux, of Paris, who came from thatConference to Geneva to tell us its results, was tome full of teaching of which possibly the speakerhimself was not wholly conscious. It told of thepower and silent progress of a truth carried abroadby the Spirit which “bloweth where it listeth.”The lesson of the “Winged Seed” goes far beyondour own special crusade. We may apply it in thedarkest times. For Truth (like Love) cannot die.Therefore we will take heart and labour on, thoughthe End is not yet.

A very friendly critic, in giving a report of theGeneva Conference in September last, asked thequestion, “Where was Mrs. Butler?” when somesentiment or proposition was announced whichseemed not quite in harmony with the principles ofthe Federation. He added, “But doubtless hersilence was to be attributed to her desire to hold theFederation together. She is naturally concernedabout the Organisation.” I wish to answer thequestion, and to rectify the mistaken impression.I was absent from the discussion in question. I amnot able to listen to discussions from morning tonight, owing to diminished strength of body, and I270must leave matters in the hands of younger andabler combatants. But on the other matter, mysupposed attachment to our organisation, I want tosay a word. I have no faith whatever inorganisations except so far as they are a useful meansfor making known a truth or dispensing help to thosewho need it, and when they are completelysubordinated to those ends. They are apt to becomea snare to those who invent them and work them,unless great care is taken to revive continuallywithin them the life by which alone they can usefullyexist.

The history of the Jesuits and that of some othergreat organised societies are monuments of theidolatrous tendency in human beings, of their habitof degenerating to the worship of some giganticand intricate earthly creation from that of theUnseen, the Living God. Such organisations maybecome in time the instruments of a propagandismthe very opposite of that proposed by their founders;and they may end by following in the stately marchof a cruel and murderous Juggernaut, crushing thelife out of men and women, and all bespattered withthe “blood of the poor innocents.” Short of sucha ghastly development as this, vast organisations(the leaders of which may come to be themselvesmisled by pride or vanity, or the praise of man, toimagine that the life is still in their wheels when it isfast passing out from them) become effete, lifelessand unfruitful. The more they are in evidencebefore the world, the more showy they become, themore do they lose real power. Their hold on Godis insensibly loosened, their members forget the271command to “call no man master.” There creepsin upon them frequently a tyrannising spirit. Theirleaders become a prey to the great delusion of theRussian ecclesiastical tyrant, that uniformity is abeautiful thing, and that it represents power.Uniformity is not a beautiful thing. There is nouniformity in God’s creation, either in the naturalor the spiritual world. The insistence on uniformitycrushes out individuality and hinders initiative.It clips the wings of the best human gifts andcapacities. It introduces the opposite of that“glorious liberty of the children of God,” which setseach soul free to develop into that good thing whichHe created it to become. “You shall all speakalike, all work in the same way, all adopt the samemanner, and obey implicitly the same rule.” Thiscommand is itself paralysing to freedom and toindividual development and power. But when itcomes to, “You shall all think alike, all believe thesame things, all receive what your leaders teach,and act in accordance with a uniform creed,” thenthere comes down a spiritual blight, which ultimatelyleaves a body without a soul. It is best then thatsuch an organisation should break up and disappear.If its existence is prolonged it may become thetenement of a spiritual influence which is directlyevil, while still wearing the outward garb of what wasoriginally good.

But our humble Abolitionist Federation! Is itlikely to incur such a fate? No, I do not believe itever will, for up to now it has continued humble;moreover it has never been strongly centralised,and never in any sense has it been tyrannised over by272those who may be called its leaders. It is a unionof free workers, who are at liberty to work along theirown lines and in their own methods, in each countryand each group. I hope it will not surprise any ofmy readers if I say that I should not grieve or begreatly disturbed if our Federation were to break upand fall to pieces to-morrow. Observe that I do nothere speak of the people who form it, of the friends andfellow-workers of years past, as well as of welcomenew-comers whom I trust and love. These are thelife of the work. They are the living beings in whosesouls reside the deep conviction, the strength ofprinciple, and the unselfish purpose which havecarried on our propagandist work till now, andwhich will continue to carry it on, with or withoutany special organisation. These persons will alwayshave a warm place in my heart, for they have beenand are my revered “yoke-fellows” in a just andholy cause; and when their own life-work is overthey will bequeath to those who come after themthe spirit which alone has made our labours fruitful.All my care is for the principle which we have beencalled to proclaim, not for the machinery throughwhich the drudgery of the work has been facilitated.God does not need our poor machinery. He cancreate other methods of spreading a truth, if thosenow existing had better come to an end.

There is a deep meaning in that mysterious visionof Ezekiel, of the living creatures and the wheels.They were together lifted up from the earth, andguided through space wherever God willed; thewheels, wheel within wheel, an intricate mechanism,moved upwards and onwards, with the ease and273power of a soaring eagle, because the Spirit was inthe wheels, the Spirit which was as lamps of fireand as lightning. I have sometimes thought if theSpirit had left those creatures and that mass ofwheels, with what a crash they would have comedown to the ground! So long as we have thatSpirit, even our wheels will have life, and our humbleorganisation will continue, as it has done till now,to glide past all dangers, and to win true hearts toour cause.

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CHAPTER XIX.
MEMORIES.

When I received the announcement of the passingaway, at ninety years of age, of Mr. Arthur Albright,my thoughts were carried back to many years ago. Ifelt a kind of peace in the thought that this braveChristian has been permitted to live to such a ripe oldage. It is an encouragement to us all to observe, aswe do in so many cases, that the most strenuousworkers for justice and truth, who have been foremostin the ranks of combatants for the right, areoften strengthened in body and in nerves to endurefor a greater number of years than others who perhapslive more for themselves.

I have not seen Mr. Albright for very many years.In the seventies I frequently met him at the annualmeetings of the Friends at Devonshire House. Oneincident stands out very vividly in my mind, and Imay be permitted to recall it just in the manner inwhich it comes back to me. In the earliest years ofour agitation for repeal (I think it was in 1870) I wasat Birmingham, where naturally my message wasreceived with unhesitating cordiality by leadingmembers of the Society of Friends. Among thesestood foremost Mr. Arthur Albright and his friendand relative Mr. John E. Wilson, who have both nowgone to their rest. (My most intimate friends in the275whole matter were Mr. and Mrs. Kenway, in whosehouse I always stayed in Birmingham.) After alarge meeting held there, there was a discussion as towhether it would not be well at once to attack theBritish stronghold of Regulation, viz. Plymouth,where already that system had begun to bear itscorrupt and tragic fruits, there having been alreadyseveral suicides of poor girls forcibly brought withinits tyranny. These Quaker gentlemen put it to me,Was I willing to go, because they felt that, at thatperiod of our crusade the cause must be presentedprominently as a woman’s cause, and be representedby women? I answered, “Yes; probably it isright to go.” These gentlemen replied that theywould with pleasure charge themselves with anyexpenses that the journey and the meetings mightinvolve. Well, I packed up my things, and with asomewhat trembling heart, counteracted by thesupreme love of battle which was born in me, I wentwith a few friends to the railway station to proceedto Plymouth. There I was somewhat startled tofind myself closely followed on the platform by thesetwo friends above mentioned. Mr. Albright was tall,straight, thin, and in figure as in principles, as firmas a bar of iron. Mr. Wilson was also tall, broader,and perhaps more imposing looking. I turned tothank them for their kindness in coming to see me off.The reply in a very gentle voice was, “Oh, we gowith thee; we could not leave thee alone.” Therecame, I recollect, to my heart quite a thrill at thatmoment of admiration and gratitude. I thought tomyself, “This is true chivalry.” These were responsiblebusiness men, who had their duties every day in276Birmingham. I do not think that either of themwere great speakers. Mr. Albright was a silent man,but his few words were weighty, and his convictionswere immovable; he was one of those Quakers whomthe poet Whittier described as “a non-conductoramong the wires.” They came with me to Plymouth,together with other early friends of our cause. At thegreat and stormy meeting which we had there theystood by me, sat behind me when I had to speak, andI felt that their presence was a tower of strength,though they said so little. The day of our meetingwas a day of overpowering heat. The battle inwhich we were engaged was equally hot, and theQuaker calm of my kind friends was better to methan even the breeze that blew through the openwindows. These may seem to be trifling remembrances,but, strange to say, such memories livesometimes in the brain when greater things areforgotten.

Long ago I asked a gift of God—companionshipwith Christ. Shall I murmur because He, havinggranted my request, grants it not in the way that Iexpected? I thought of Mary sitting at His feet,hearing His word calmly, happy and wise; but thatis not the companionship He grants me to-day (GoodFriday). To-day it is the companionship with Himof the penitent malefactor, nailed to a neighbouringcross. I cannot grasp His hand, nor sit at His feet,nor lean on His breast as the beloved disciple did,for I am bound hand and foot, stretched on my crosstill every nerve and muscle strains and aches. I canonly turn my head to that side where the Lord hangs277in pain also, so near that I can hear His breathing,His sighs, the beating of His heart; but separated bythe cross. The cross which brings me so near to Himis the hindrance to a still nearer approach. I canspeak to Him in few and faint words from my cross toHis, but without the tranquil rest and consolationwhich I once knew in His presence, and such as thefamily of Bethany knew, whom He loved. But didHe not also love that dying malefactor? and didnot those two, in some sense, resemble each other asthey hung there, a spectacle to men and angels,more than Martha or Mary resembled Him as theysat at His feet, or ministered to Him with busyhands?

I recall these things to sustain me in the midst ofmournful questionings. He has chosen the mannerof our companionship, and therefore it is dear to me.No pleasant walks on the slopes of the Mount ofOlives, no evening converse or public teaching on theshores of the lake or on the green hillside, no sweetministerings by the wayside or in humble dwellingsto His human needs. These are not His choice forme. In the morning of life I chose for myself—Ichose the beautiful and good things set before me;and now in the evening, when the shadows are closinground, He chooses for me. If I have worn a crown ofroses, shall I not gladly change it for one of thorns, ifit brings me nearer? When my earthly paradisefaded, and its best human companionship was withdrawn,and I was left alone, then my Lord rememberedmy first request—for companionship with Him.And how could He choose better than He had chosen—toshare His solitude, to know the sweet and awful278companionship of suffering, of darkness, of the visionof the whole world’s sin, for which He was woundedto death, and of the slow hours counted in silent pain?I thank thee, O God!

The following message was written for the Conferenceof the Federation held in Paris in June,1900.

In the midst of all that is now being done to promotea higher morality and to win men, our soldiers andothers, to accept the higher standard, there is still,I think, a tendency to forget, or at least to feel less,our responsibility towards the immediate and thesaddest victims of the social evil—the women, theyoung girls of the so-called outcast class. May I oncemore put in a plea for them? Unable now to workamong them in any practical way, yet the thought ofthem is ever with me. There are memories whichnothing can efface, forms which visit me again in thenight season, faces which look through the mists ofthe past and seem to plead for some word from me,some reminder addressed to our busy workers andnoble social reformers—a word to recall to them that279“we are still in bonds; we are still in State prison-houses,in beleaguered cities where a famine of all thatheart and soul crave, and the disease-impregnatedatmosphere are wearing us out and holding us untilthe last breath of hope is extinguished and we die;and yet no sound of any relieving army reaches ourears, no glad tramp of swiftly-flying horses bearingour deliverers; no cry from the watch-tower,Relief is on the way! We are here while you arepreaching purity, more manliness to men, morecourage to women, more love for humanity. Haveyou forgotten us?” From the Maisons tolerées ofGeneva, of Paris, of Berlin, from slave pens andprisons all over the Continent comes this cry to thosewho have ears to hear.

At the meeting of our Abolitionist Federationabout to be held in Paris will that voice be heard, orwill it be lost amidst the excitement of those days,amidst the pressure of a thousand interests and thevoices of appeal from many workers in innumerablegood causes? And yet a few streets distant thereare and will be abodes filled with human beings—oursisters, driven outside the pale of all law, hemmedround and crushed down by a cordon and by weightsof arbitrary police rules, slaves and prisoners towhom no light comes, to whom no word of hopepenetrates. They have been so welded into a compactclass by human egotism that even the good andkind among men and women are apt to forget thatthey are no more criminal than others who are free,and to look upon them as a peculiarly degradedportion of humanity.

May I recall a few memories? In Paris sometwenty or more years ago my husband and I, on ourway to an evening meeting, shortened our route bygoing through an obscure by-street. As we passedthere darted out of the darkness a girl gaily dressed,painted, but no fille de joie, no dressing or paint couldhide the marks of slavery and pain. She made forme, she threw her arms round my neck, her cheek forone moment pressed against mine, the tears coursingdown through the paint which hid the pallor underneath,and calling me by my name, she said (in280French), “We love you! Oh, we love you!” I hadno time to respond. She, seeing or feeling theapproach of a policeman or something, tore herselfaway and darted back into the darkness. Like ameteor out of the darkness this vision appeared, andinto the darkness it returned, leaving no trace behind.I never heard of her again. I know nothing. Whereis that spirit now? Where? I ask it of God. Shetold me she loved me (she and her doomed comrades).Shall I ever have the opportunity of returning to herthose dear words? We had been having meetings,in which sympathy was expressed for these captives.Some few of them, in spite of police surveillance, hadmanaged to creep into our meetings, and perhaps theyhad read something in the newspapers.

Dare I to ask our friends who will assemble in Paristo keep their ears open to this cry, and to rememberthat there, close by, in the midst of all the charms ofthe Exhibition, and the interest of social gatheringsand meetings on behalf of every good end, there, closeby, are crushed hearts and maddened spirits, whoseexistence as an officially acknowledged social necessityis a crime prophetic of woe for that charming cityen fête just now, but which must pass under acloud sooner or later, if for these and other slaves thesword of justice is not unsheathed?

In the years past I visited sometimes houses ofill-fame in my own country, where the law is with usand not against us in entering such places. I recallone day sitting in a room with some score of youngwomen of the unhappy sisterhood. They wereseated mostly on the floor around me, some with anexpression of weariness or indifference on their faces,281some hard, others gently inquisitive. I spoke tothem (do not be surprised, any friend who may readthis) of the sweetness of family life, of the blessing ofthe love of a pure and chivalrous man, and of happymarried life, of the love of little children, the gaiety,the gladness they shed in the home, of the delighteven of the humblest household work in such conditionsin a home where true love reigns, and of theaffection between a true husband and wife, whichdeepens and becomes more holy as life goes on. Wasit cruel? It might seem so. But the effect was notso. All round me there were heads bowed low; nomore hardness nor indifference, but tears dropping onclasped hands and faces hidden on the shoulders oftheir companions. The room seemed to be full ofthe sound of sighing and sobbing; it seemed to me awail—almost like the wail of lost spirits:“Too late!too late! That is not for us. Once we had now andthen such a dream, but now—nevermore!” Idropped on the floor to be nearer and in the midst ofthem, and spoke words which I cannot remember,but to this effect:“Courage, my darlings! Don’tdespair; I have good news for you. You are women,and a woman is always a beautiful thing. You havebeen dragged deep in the mud; but still you arewomen. God calls to you, as He did to Zion longago, ‘Awake, awake! Thou that sittest in the dust,put on thy beautiful garments.’ It may be that thepicture I have drawn is not for you, yet I dare toprophesy good for you, and happiness even in thislife; and I tell you truly that you can become, inthis life, something even better than a happy wifeand mother—yes, something better. You can help282to save others. You can be the friend and companionof Him who came to seek and to save thatwhich was lost. Fractures well healed make us morestrong. Take of the very stones over which you havestumbled and fallen, and use them to pave your roadto heaven. My beloved ones, I have come to tell youof a happiness in store for you, greater than anyearthly happiness.”

Did I speak to them of their sins? Did I preachthat the wages of sin is death? Never! What amI—a sinner—that I should presume to tell them thatthey were sinners? That would have stirred anantagonism in their hearts, a mental protest:“Perhapsyou are not much better than we. If you hadhad to go through what we have gone through, if youhad been neglected, poor, betrayed, kicked about bysociety——” Ah, yes, I knew all that; and I knewthat the vision of what they might have been hadstirred in every poor heart of them a sad, dreary senseof loss—of irreparable loss—and a keen sense of shameand of bitter regret that they were what they were.

And the seal set upon every such message was theseal of the blessed name of Christ the Lord, the Loverof the lost, the Friend of sinners; of Him whowelcomed the sinful woman, the sister of those whoare called in police reports “habitual prostitutes,”“abandoned women,” “recalcitrants,”“socialnuisances”; of Him who accepted her tears, whosuffered her to kiss His feet; of Him who said, “TheSon of Man is come to seek and to save that which islost”; the noble Shepherd who goes forth in searchof His lost sheep, following it over hill and dale, rockand torrent, and through the wide, waste wilderness283—till when? till He sees that that erring creaturedoes not want to be saved, is too stupid and silly andperverse, too tainted with vice to be saved, and thendoes He turn back and give it up? No. It iswritten: “He goeth after the sheep that is lost untilHe finds it.” How is it that the Chief Shepherd neverturns back (as we do) from the search after a lost soul,or His vast lost humanity? The answer comes tome—because of His faith. He had faith in God theFather, and He had faith also in that human naturecreated by God. He sees what we cannot see—thespark, all but extinguished, in the most wretchedsoul of man or woman, which can be fanned into aflame when the Divine breath breathes upon it.

We know that the words translated in ourScriptures, “Have faith in God,” are now more trulytranslated, “Have the faith of God.” In order tofollow our lost sheep until we find them—neverstopping short of that—it seems that we must have,in some degree at least, the faith of the Son of God;His faith in the creative power of the Father of thehuman race, who can create and recreate, and Hisfaith in the possibility of resurrection for every deadsoul.

Among those whom we call “lost women” I haveknown better rescuers of other lost women than Ihave known among the truest Christians who havekept firmly in the paths of righteousness. There areamong them—perhaps not many, but some—whoseardour and spirit of self-sacrifice in the work hasamazed us. Their own experience drives them on,and once given and having accepted such a work,they rise to a height, or rather, I might say, they284stoop to a depth, of self-abnegation which comes nearto the highest ideal of saintliness. “We are poorcreatures,” as one of them said; “we have donebadly. We can do little, but at least we may be ofuse in raking a few of our dear fellow-sinners out ofthe mud.” And they have raked them out of themud—those lost diamonds in the dust, trodden underfoot. They have plunged into the dust heaps andrefuse of society, and brought out thence treasureswhich, when cleansed—even as we all need to becleansed—become as the stars which shine for everand ever.

Is it any wonder that such memories visit one inthe night season, and that a prayer rises from the heartthat the God of Love may send a message of fire intothe hearts of our so-called purity workers, our highermorality pleaders, a message which will not beignored or set aside, but which will compel them toseek a way to the direct deliverance of these captivesand the breaking of their chains. And if theseworkers feel that this work is not theirs, or that theyare not fitted for it, or called to it, then I pray thatGod will prepare and call up a relief army, a forlornhope brigade from among the humble, the uneducated,the poor and unambitious, who are not so “awfullybusy” with good works that they cannot turn aside tolift the wounded or carry the dead; and that He willgive to this relief army to fight, in this humble butholy war with the inexpressible bravery, enduranceand self-sacrifice with which men are fighting to-dayin another war.

I know it will be said, as it is often said:285 “Butrescue work is such discouraging, such hopeless work.It is far better to act on public opinion, to elevate themorality of men, to educate the young in principlesof justice and purity, to strike at the root, at thecauses of prostitution. What you are counselling isbut ambulance work for picking up and helping thewounded. Is it not far better to abolish war, whichnecessitates ambulance work?” All this is quite true.I have preached it many a time myself. Nevertheless,while we are still in the midst of war can we, inthe name of pity, neglect our wounded and leave themto die? “This ought ye to have done, and not tohave left the other undone.”

Moreover womanhood is solidaire. We cannotsuccessfully elevate the standard of public opinionin the matter of justice to women, and of equality ofall in its truest sense, if we are content that a practical,hideous, calculated, manufactured and legally maintaineddegradation of a portion of womanhood isallowed to go on before the eyes of all. “Rememberthem that are in bonds, as being bound with them.”Even if we lack the sympathy which makes us feelthat the chains which bind our enslaved sisters arepressing on us also, we cannot escape the fact thatwe are one womanhood, solidaire, and that so long asthey are bound, we cannot be wholly and truly free.We continue to be dragged down from that rightplace and influence which we aim at by the deadweightof this accursed thing in the midst of us.

This year (1900) Josephine Butler wrote two booksabout the South African War. In the first, NativeRaces and the War, she endeavours to prove that thetreatment of the native races of South Africa, thoughit had286 “not yet in England or on the Continent beencited as one of the direct causes of the war,” reallylay “very near to the heart of the present trouble.”We suspect that the writing of this book was partlydue to the fact that her patriotic spirit recoiled at theviolent denunciations against England, especiallyby continental writers, for having entered upon thewar from base and covetous motives; but perhapsshe fell into the opposite extreme of exaggeratingthe faults of President Kruger’s Government. Inany case, whether or not she proves her thesis thatthe native question had anything to do with theorigin of the war, all will agree with her view, that“Great Britain will in future be judged, condemnedor justified according to her treatment of those innumerablecoloured races, over whom her ruleextends;” and that “race prejudice is a poisonwhich will have to be cast out if the world is ever tobe Christianised, and if Great Britain is to maintainthe high and responsible place among the nationswhich has been given to her.” In Silent Victoriesshe does not deal with controversial questions, buttells the simple story of humane and spiritual workcarried on amongst the troops by various religiousagencies, giving many pathetic incidents fromsoldiers’ letters from the front, which showed thatin the midst of the horrors of war silent victorieswere won in many hearts, lifted from selfishness totrue manhood and brotherliness.

Tolstoi’s latest novel, Resurrection, has beenreviewed by several well-known literary men on theContinent. In reading their able articles I amsurprised by the absence in them of any full appreciationof the vital chord which has been struck bythis master hand, on one side of the great questionof justice. The masculine reviewers (I speak ofcontinentals, not yet having read reviews which have287appeared in England) seem to have missed in ameasure hearing the note which goes straight toevery woman’s heart. The book might be calledthe amende honorable made by the masculine conscienceto the womanhood of the world, for thecenturies of wrong inflicted by the absence of therecognition of an equal moral standard for thesexes. It has brought hope to many, showing howthe truth is marching on, how the wingedseed has taken root, not only in obscure ground,and in humble minds, but in the mind of a greatgenius, whose voice has sounded aloud and afar thejustice of the movement, for which so many of ushave prayed and laboured, and the injustice underwhich so many have suffered and died—theirsorrows and their death taken no account of becausethey were the helpless victims of the tyranny appealedagainst.

The Resurrection which Tolstoi pictures is theresurrection of conscience in a man who arises to dothe whole of his duty towards a fallen woman, awoman of the streets in fact, whose first seducer hehad been. The book is full of sad and tragic scenes,depicted with the author’s unrivalled power; butit stands for truth, for justice, for the right, and inthe hand of the giant Tolstoi, it is like a clarionsounding the dawn of a new day. Millions will readthis book, appearing as it has done in severallanguages at the same moment, an accomplished workof art, a marvel of composition, of achievement,even of translation, for it is translated into Frenchby a masterly pen. No man having read it can helphaving heard the call of conscience.

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Madame Pieczynska, who has lived in Russia andPoland, wrote to me as follows: “For me this bookis a great event to be thankful for, even unto God.I am told that it is received with enthusiasm inRussia, though it has been mutilated by the censorbefore being allowed to appear. I hope you willshare our impressions about it. To some the hero’scharacter will probably appear invraisemblable. Letme assure you that it is nevertheless a true and notexceptional type of the Slavian youth of the period,more entire, more extreme in his tendencies, goodor bad, than English, French or Swiss men are.The Slavian race is not as yet like those others atthe climax of civilisation. It is still growing,ascending, shaping its characteristics, while theothers are mature or even growing old. In Russia,in Poland, there is not such a crowding of humanity;there is more room to expand, and to stretch out athought even to its last consequences. Hence wehave Nihilists, strange sects, and such men asNekhludow and Tolstoi, whilst in some countriesmediocrity reigns supreme, everyone elbowing hisneighbour closely, and allowing him no extraordinarymove, be it onward and upward, or downward.The hero of Tolstoi will undoubtedly be called bymany an exalté, but none the less ‘Truth will bejustified of her children.’”

Madame Pieczynska’s words are true, for in spiteof the reserves and objections which will fill the mindsof many readers of Resurrection, it is good and rightthat there should be foreshadowed for all men thequestion which will have to be faced and answeredin the great Day of Judgment by all seducers,289corrupters and despisers of women. I will notattempt to give the story, which has been reportedin many reviews; but will only add that there aresentences in the book, confessions of an awakened,“resurrected” conscience, and recitals which noAbolitionist among us could read unmoved, andwhich, when once read, will not easily be forgotten.It would be hopeless to endeavour to bring togetherhere in any adequate degree these remarkablepassages. The sister of the hero, a good, kind,prosperous, society woman, asks him with sincerity:“But do you believe it possible that a woman whohas lived such a life can ever again be really elevated,morally re-instated, and restored to the nobility ofwomanhood?” She waits for a reply, imaginingthat that question is the one which presses most onher brother’s mind, while he is thus determined tosacrifice all for his former victim. His reply embodiesa thought, which rarely, if ever, occurs evento the best of men. “That is not the questionwhich I have to answer. The question which I haveto answer is: Is there hope for me? Can I berehabilitated, morally restored, and elevated to thetrue dignity of manhood?”

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CHAPTER XX.
THE MORNING COMETH.

The death of her brother-in-law, Tell Meuricoffre,in the spring of 1900, and the death of his wife inthe autumn of the same year, were a great sorrowto Josephine Butler, increasing the feeling of lonelinessthat so often comes to the aged; but amid all herweakness and loneliness in these last years, hope,illimitable hope, was the dominant note of her soul,as she looked forward to the “smile and the ‘goodmorning’ with which God would greet her” on theother side.

To the Editor of the Shield.

April, 1900.

You ask me for a few words on the character andcareer of my brother-in-law, the Chevalier TellMeuricoffre, who fell asleep on Thursday, March 22nd.It would hardly be possible for me to write of himimpersonally, while even as a sister, to whom he wasvery dear, it is not quite easy. But I will try. Icannot speak of him in any direct connection withthe cause which your paper represents, for he nevercame personally to the front in our work, though insympathy he was with us and with his dear wife, mysister, who has been for several years a member ofour International Committee, and some of whosepublished letters reveal a deeper insight than I haveever observed in any other person into the intimate291relations of our question with the spiritual life ofindividuals and nations. Mr. Meuricoffre’s was avery full, varied and most useful life. Swiss byparentage, he was born and lived almost all hislife in Naples, where he fulfilled some of the highestcitizen functions in a manner to attract the esteemof his fellow-citizens of every nationality and creed.Now that he is gone a thousand testimonies arepouring in to his sterling worth, and to the affectionhe had inspired far and wide. He was the head andsupport of the Swiss Protestant colony in Naples—avery numerous society—and the promoter of countlessgood works, such as the International Hospital,which he created for the reception of strangersarriving in Naples, who did not find any such safe orgood treatment in the other hospitals of the city.Truth, purity, uprightness, singlemindedness, anda most munificent generosity were among hischaracteristics. Noblesse oblige seemed to be hismotto. He did not let his left hand know what hisright hand did. Besides his public acts of benevolence,he aided privately numbers of individualsand families whose needs or misfortunes were asecret to all except himself. He was the most open-handedof men. He and my husband were greatfriends, and in several points they resembled eachother. If the world were more largely peopled withsuch men as these two, we should not have needed,dear Editor, to maintain so continuous and arduousa struggle as we have had for justice and mercy atthe hands of men. Mr. and Mrs. Meuricoffre used tospend a part of each summer at their beautiful Swisshome on the borders of the Lake of Geneva; and292it was here that many delightful family gatheringstook place, assembling from Italy, England andFrance. We have golden memories of those times,where we (from England) used sometimes to rest, inorder to prepare ourselves for approaching conferencesof the Abolitionist Federation in Switzerland.Some of your readers may remember Mr.Meuricoffre’s presence at the conference in Berne in1896, and my sister’s words spoken in the sacristy ofthe large church at Colmar, the year before, whenshe pleaded for the poor child victims in Italy.

The occasion of the Colmar meeting, referred to inthe above letter, is described in the following extractfrom a journal kept by Josephine Butler in 1895.

This week at Colmar was altogether sweet. Mydarling Hatty made a lovely impression on all ourfriends. I shall never forget her words spoken ata preliminary meeting in our salon at the hotel,where arrangements for the week were discussed.One saw there was a tendency, in the preparing ofcertain resolutions, to drop to a lower standard inthe proclaiming of principles (in order to disarmopposition, it was said). Her few words spoken verygently, but firmly, led the whole company up to thehigher standard—that of Christ; and our old andvalued friend, Professor Felix Bovet, thanked herfor recalling them to that standard. At one of ourearly morning devotional meetings, which were heldin the sacristy of the large Protestant Church, hervoice went to my heart, and to that of many, as shestood up and prayed for poor Italy, and for Naples293especially, asking God to send some of His inspiredteachers and workers there. But most ofall there dwells in my heart the memory of thatearly morning when, before going to the sacristy,I went to her room. I had been ill and exhaustedall the day before. She kneeled down, half dressedas she was, and drew me down beside her, and puttingher arm round me, and drawing me close to her side,she poured out her soul in such a loving petition forme, weeping as she prayed, and yet with such firmfaith and loving assurance as people only have whenthey feel God very near, and realise His will togrant what is asked. Her voice sounded to me likethat of some ministering angel, pleading pleadingface to face with God—a voice trembling withemotion and yet steadied by the sense of the dearand awful presence of the Christ to whom she spoke.And her prayer was large and far-reaching, embracingthose dearest to us, and “the little ones, thelost lambs of Jesus.” Wonderful strength and healthwere given to me for the remaining days at Colmar.

In 1901 she published In Memoriam, HarrietMeuricoffre, consisting mainly of letters from hersister, which are written with a delicacy of literarystyle, and reveal the extreme sweetness of hercharacter. The following extract from one of theseletters shows how these two sisters were more thansisters—heart-friends:294 “How I wish I was near you;not that I could do anything, but I sometimes feelas if my intense love for you might almost surroundyou like the vapour which forms itself around thehuman hand, and enables it to plunge into moltenmetal at white heat, and not be scorched. I feelsure that God will keep you all through these days,and give you strength for each hour. At what hourhave you meetings for prayer? It is so sweet todraw near to Him early in the morning before all therumbling, and shouting and dust come betweenheaven and earth. Every morning, my best beloved,I will be holding you up to Him, between six andseven o’clock. Let a quick little thought of thiscross your mind while dressing. My whole heartis with you, and will be, every day and all thedays.”

In 1903 she published The Morning Cometh: ALetter to my Children, under the pseudonym of“Philalethes.” This little book, like The Lady ofShunem, is a Bible study, chiefly on those passageswhich point to the larger hope and the restitutionof all things. We give three extracts from it.

In the course of the last twenty years or so, andespecially in that of the last five or six years, a floodof light has been poured upon the meanings of thesacred writers, and most of all on the text of theteaching of Christ and His Apostles. This lighthas come gradually to me, and to many, like newlife. Up to the time that this light shone out fully,it has seemed that we had all received only half agospel of glad tidings; now it is a whole gospel, forwhich thousands have been waiting; and the joy itbrings is great, and will be greater, the more we enterinto and are made to understand the love of God andHis divine purpose for the salvation of all. “TheLarger Hope,” as this new light is sometimes called,and which might be called the Illimitable Hope, is295rapidly becoming more clearly seen and joyfullyaccepted.

The unscriptural teaching concerning eternalpunishment has created thousands of atheists,sceptics and defiant scoffers at Christianity, and hasmade many just-minded and tender-hearted peoplevery unhappy, bringing the grey hairs of many insorrow to the grave—in sorrow for a lost world—ora lost child (supposed through false teaching to belost, but not lost). Having conversed of late yearswith a few of such sorrowful persons, and with somewho have been driven by false representations of thecharacter of God to the verge of a complete and finalrejection of all faith in Him, I have seen the reliefit has brought when the other side has been setbefore them. I have seen countenances light upas with a new hope, and the man or woman addressedlike one who has thrown off a burden of years, andwho now begins to breathe freely, delivered from anintolerable oppression.

There is a story, told by an American poet, of anexplorer who was rowed down the River Amazon onenight from sunset to sunrise, the dark river glidingwith a serpent’s stillness between forests of gianttrees wound round with snake-like creepers.Suddenly at midnight a cry, a long despairing moanof solitude arises, a cry so full of agony and fear, thatthe heart of the traveller stands still as he listens.The oarsman starts, drops his oar, crosses himselfand whispers, “The cry of a lost soul.”“Nay, abird perhaps,” the traveller says.296 “No, señor, nota bird; we know it well. It is the tortured soul ofan infidel, an accursed heretic, that cries from hell.Poor fool! he shrieks for ever in the darkness forhuman pity and for prayer. May the saints strikehim dumb! Our Holy Mother has no prayer forhim; for having sinned to the end, he burns alwaysin the furnace of God’s wrath.” The traveller madeno answer to the baptised pagan’s cruel lie, whichlends new horror to the deepening shadows as theboat’s lamp burns dim, and the black water slidesalong without a sound or a ripple. But lifting hiseyes to the strip of the starry heavens visible betweenthe dark walls of forest, he sees the cross of pardon(the beautiful constellation, the Southern Cross)lighting up the tropical sky, and he urges aloud hisstrong plea: “Father of all, Thou lovest all; Thyerring child may be lost to himself, but never lost toThee. All souls are Thine. Through all guilt andshame, perverseness of will and sins of sense Thouforsakest not. Wilt Thou not, eternal source of good,change to a song of praise the cry of the lost soul?”And a sense of peace and assurance fell upon the soulof the traveller as the first streak of dawn summonedall nature to her morning song of praise.

You and I have been together among the Alps,in the early hours of the dawn, when all nature wasfreshly baptised with the dew of the morning, andsuch an exquisite purity was in the silent air, thatwe seemed to be breathing the heavenly ether of anew-born earth. And we have together looked uponthose pure, snow-covered peaks, those fair sentinelsof heaven, in the evening glow, bathed in the roseand gold of the setting sun; appearing at the last297moment of farewell to the day, as if lighted by somelight from within themselves. At such times wehave felt that it was hardly possible to imagineanything more beautiful, more awful in grandeurand purity than this. May it be that we shall seethese same familiar features renewed in the times ofthe new heavens and the new earth?—all thattends to decay and death, all storms, violence anddestructive forces done with for ever, and thisbeautiful earth again such as we have seen it andloved it at its best, but infinitely better and morebeautiful than its present earthly best. Its presentunrest, the violent and terrifying forces workingwithin its bosom are, it may be, the travail pangswhich will usher in the new earth.

To the Editor of the Shield.

January 1st, 1905.

I feel impelled, in spite of much physical weakness,to send a message of New Year’s greeting, throughyour organ, to such of my old friends and associatesin our Crusade who are still living, as well as to theyounger generation of workers, many of whom I havenever seen.

I believe we all realise that we are living in troubledtimes, both as to our own land and to the world ingeneral. I do myself realise it deeply. Yet no noteof discouragement is allowed by “the God of Hope”to sound in my soul. I say this emphatically—and myfriends may believe that this hope has not its sourcein any natural buoyancy, for I am suffering much.I should like just to reiterate the old everlasting298truth that “Jehovah reigns.” It is my beliefthat His presence among us will be felt in proportionas evil and perplexity increase on all sides. He hearsthe bitter cry which is arising from earth. The“distress of nations” spoken of in Scripture is Hisdistress who bore the sins and the griefs of the wholeworld. Do not, dear friends, think of Him as far off,and of His earth as a “God-forsaken planet.” It isstill always His earth, and at a time when faith seemsto decay, He will arise in His majesty and love.“He saw that there was no man, and wonderedthat there was no Intercessor; therefore His ownarm brought salvation.”

I am with you, my dear old and young companionsin arms—with you in spirit and in sympathy at thisseason and always.

This year she was able to welcome a great moralvictory for theAbolitionist cause. For the Extra-Parliamentary Commission, appointedby the French Government in 1902, though originally not counting morethan three Abolitionists among its seventy members, formally condemnedthe system of the Police des mœurs. It remains however to beseen what the French Chambers will do with the matter.

The following letter is a specimen of the touchingmanner, in which she mourned the loss of herfriends, as one by one they passed away.

To a friend.

March, 1905.

It would be difficult for me in my present circ*mstancesof weakness to write, as it has been suggested,the story of the life and work of my dear latecolleague, Margaret Tanner. Others, I trust, will299give the facts of her long and faithful career. ButI cannot refrain from writing to you a few wordsfrom my heart, about her who has so lately beencalled to her rest, and to the higher service which,I believe, is granted in that rest to those who havefaithfully served God on earth.

She and I have been allied in work since the autumnof 1869. It is a long retrospect, and many memoriescrowd upon me as I look back on our special work ofthe Ladies’ National Association. We have alwaysworked in perfect harmony, although differingmarkedly in natural character. To speak honestly,as one conscious of faults, which were howeveroverruled (for we were educated in the work itself towhich we were called), I was too impetuous, impulsiveand sometimes rash. The keen sense of injusticewhich possessed both her and me, was apt at timesto fill me with bitterness of soul. She, on thecontrary, was always calm, steady, equal, gentle—atrue representative of the Society of Friends.I think I never heard her say an unkind word ofanyone, or pass a harsh judgment on persons whowere unjust and cruel, although abhorring the injusticeand the cruelty. She was very humble, andwonderfully self-effacing. With all her gentleness,she had the utmost firmness, never wavering in theleast in principle; and her grasp of principle andher sense of justice were allied to a lifelong, tenaciousperseverance in duty, and in devotion to our causeto the very end. She would say that she owed muchto me. Few people guess how much I owed to her,to that firm, quiet individuality. She was full ofpity for the outcast and oppressed, and in this we300were wholly one. Her memory is very sweet andfragrant to me; and I am full of a grateful remembranceof the influence which her character has hadon me.

I recall many visits I made to Durdham Park,where she lived much, and worked with her sisters.The drawing-room meetings we held there, and thetraditional beautiful hospitality of Friends, are abright and peaceful memory to me. There wasinspiration in those meetings, and they were fruitfulin practical results. Lastly, may I say that I notedwith reverent love the spiritual ripening of thecharacter of that dear friend, towards the close of herlong life of faithful labours. Her love for me wasdeep and tender, and mine for her. The last timeI saw her, the light of Heaven was on her aged face,which bore the marks of the patience which had hadits perfect work.

What follows is part of the message sent by Josephine Butler on theoccasion of the thirtieth anniversary of the Federation, meeting atNeuchâtel in September, 1905.

The inception of our work, which has grown sowonderfully, began very much earlier than anyoneknows. You will be surprised perhaps, when youknow all. What I have to tell you illustrates twotruths, which are, to my mind, confirmed by the innerhistory of all vital evolutions of which we know anythingin the past history of the human race. Thefirst of these two truths or principles is, that in orderto produce a movement of a vital, spiritual nature301someone must suffer, someone must go through soretravail of soul before a living movement, outwardlyvisible, can be born. This was so in the greatestmovement of eternity—the evolution of the Christianfaith. To that end Christ suffered, as we know (in ameasure) to what a degree; but the depth andinfinitude of His suffering we cannot know. It iswhat the Greeks called “The unknown and unknowableagony.” Scripture speaks of the “travail of Hissoul.” In an infinitely smaller measure I believe thatthe evolution of any vitally good principle, or truth,must be and always is preceded by suffering, bytravail of soul.17 It is not all who join in the vitalmovement who need to suffer; by no means. Theirsufferings are less probably, as time goes on. Thetruth visibly born into the world carries with it theconviction and intellectual adhesion of a multitude ofgood and just persons. There is still labour andstrain, and weariness and disappointment, andinward conflict to be borne by those who join thegood cause; but not often, I think, the long, silentperiod of conception and child-bearing which precedesthe actual appearance of the living child in the world.This has a close connection with much that Christsaid about the hidden life of the seed sown in theKingdom of God. The smallest of seeds, He said,falls into the ground, remains long concealed there,apparently dead, unseen by any. But in time itappears an infant plant, and, as He said, becomes thegreatest of all trees, so that the birds of the air restin its branches.

The second truth which, I think, is illustrated by302our experience is this: a movement which is of God,of divine origin, and which is rooted in the will ofHim who is the God of Justice, is and must be precededby prayer. It must have its origin in His owninspiration. Therefore I feel that, in one sense, myown answer to the question,“Was our movement aChristian movement at the beginning?”—my ownanswer must be, “Yes, it was,” but not in the sense inwhich it is understood, or misunderstood, by some,such as Dr. Fournier, who think that a number of“women and clergymen,” a great party of orthodoxChristians, sprang up in England, in the name ofreligion, to lead this movement. It may seem aparadox, but it must be stated truly to my innercircle of friends, that this movement was born of God,secretly inaugurated by years of silent prayer—prayeroffered in the name of Jesus; and that atthe same time it was far from being a movementpatronised by Christians at first. Indeed the Christianchurches were only very slowly and gradually gainedto the condescension of looking at the question.Bishops and clergy, and ministers of differentdenominations poured upon our little early group allthe disdain they felt for us.

Our first years were a conflagration created bythe spark of wrath against injustice which our cry ofrevolt had produced. Our vast populations of themiddle and working classes, especially the latter, roseagainst the legislation we opposed, because it wasclass legislation. This fact was the iron whichentered into the soul of our English people; the factthat men of the upper classes had broken down ourancient safeguards, written in our Constitution since303the days of King John, in order that the sons of theupper classes might benefit (as was supposed) by thedestruction of the daughters of the people. Thewrath of the common people quickly broke into aflame which shook Parliament and our legislators,and in time took hold of the churches, and whichturned our country into a veritable battlefield forjustice, apart from all religious considerations. Iallow that there were among our working men a fewgroups of devout men, who held meetings quietly forprayer about that question, especially in Scotland;but the great question always was that of justice andclass selfishness. There were also, I must recall,individuals among the upper classes who were withus from the first—rare spirits whose sense of justicewas outraged by this legislation—certain Members ofParliament (of blessed memory), certain dignitariesof the Church—such as Canon Fowle, who scandalisedthe respectable community by preaching in hisCathedral on several occasions against the Regulation;such as my revered husband and a few of his clericalfriends; and one bishop, whose largeness of view, Ibelieve, was owing to his having been a colonialbishop, accustomed to hear the enlightened viewsof the poor heathen over whom he exercised hispastoral functions.

Some of the prominent workers with us from thefirst were Unitarians (including Sir James Stansfeld).I suppose that these would hardly be considered tobe orthodox by evangelical Christians. We neverasked of our adherents what their religious views ornon-views were. We joined hands with all who cameto us, and there were many malcontents among these,304people who had been ill-used by society, poorfailures, people who had been deeply wronged andwho longed for retribution; people whose woes criedto heaven, even if they had never learned to sendthe breath of prayer upwards to Him who bore allour woes.

From the first we had the adhesion and supportof noble Jews. I may mention Samuel Montagu,M.P. for Whitechapel, the Jews’ quarter in London.He, Montagu, is a “Hebrew of the Hebrews.” Hegave us personal and political help. Some of themembers of the Montefiore family joined us. TheChief Rabbi of London helped us. We had lettersof adhesion rapidly from Zadok Kahn, Grand Rabbinof Paris; from Astruc, Grand Rabbin of Brussels;and from Ben Israel, Grand Rabbin of Avignon.Ben Israel sent to me and my husband a remarkablebook which he had written on the heroic and prominentwomen, prophetesses and others, of the earlyHebrew times. His book showed an intelligent studyof the Hebrew Scriptures, and an innate and profoundrespect for womanhood. These Hebrews whom Ihave mentioned cannot certainly be ranked amongorthodox Christians; yet we felt they were an addedstrength to us.

I may mention that in 1875, when the firstBritish section of the Federation was formed, a distinguishedIndian, Babu Keshub Chunder Sen, joinedus, and was elected a member of our first InternationalCommittee. This committee was formed inLiverpool, where we resided then, and on it wereplaced men of various views, some of them decidedlyagnostic. Keshub Chunder Sen visited us in our305house in Liverpool, and our family were impressedby the sublime calm and elevation of his spirit, in thedeep conviction that good would triumph over evil.He was not a Christian.

I think I have said enough to show that wegathered all who desired justice, or who sufferedfrom injustice.

May I mention the order in which the tide ofdivinely-inspired persons or societies graduallygathered round us. This order, most curiously, isprecisely similar to that which existed in the case ofthe great war in America against negro slavery, whichyou know, was strongly upheld (I mean slavery was)by many of the churches in America. Our firstadherents were of the Society of Friends, the Quakers,that quiet and peaceful body of persons whose active,practical help is always offered to suffering peoples allthrough the world, in accordance with the rule ofGeorge Fox, the founder of their sect, who establishedthe “Committee for Sufferings.” It is the nobleobligation of this committee, which exists to this day,to look abroad over all the sufferings of the world,whatever they may be and in whatever land, and toendeavour to alleviate those sufferings. These dearpeople rallied to us very early. Among them myheart urges me to mention a few of the individuals ofthat body who joined us and aided us silently withunspoken prayer, and outwardly with brave andwonderful courage. I allude especially to my veryearly comrades, Margaret Tanner and Mary Priestman.The former has recently entered into her rest;the latter is now old and infirm. You can picturethese two ladies and myself, sitting face to face, in306gentle consultation. “What shall we do?” One ofthem replied, “Well, we must rouse the country.”Brave woman! So gentle, so Quakerly, yet convincedthat we three poor women must rouse thecountry. Indeed God does use the weak things ofthe world to confound the strong. So we formedgradually our “Ladies’ National Association,” themother, or rather the grandmother of all the societiesin which women worked. I should also like to recordthe memory of several noted Friends in Birmingham,who laboured for us, and some of whom are still alive.I recall too the name of Edward Backhouse, ofSunderland, a true prince of generosity, whosepowerful aid helped us through many difficulties inthe early days of our campaign. Mr. Thomassonwas a pillar of strength to us for many years. Theirnames are written in heaven.

The religious societies who gave us adherentsgradually were, as I have said, first the Friends,then the humblest communities, the PrimitiveMethodists, the Bible Christians, the United Methodists;then the Wesleyans, who later became apowerful aid to our cause, under the leadership ofthe late Hugh Price Hughes, a fiery-hearted Welshman,a convinced Abolitionist, and an eloquentpleader for justice. Then followed, but slowly,slowly, and with divided opinions, the Baptists andthe Congregationalists, among whom there were somewho remained blind to the meaning of our movementfor a very long time. The Scottish Churches slowlyfollowed, the narrowly Calvinistic character of someof them tending to cramp their sympathies. Two greatleaders of the more enlightened part spoke valiantly307for us as early as 1869. I refer to Dr. Guthrie andDr. Duff, the well-known missionary to India.Nevertheless some few years later, valiant corps ofAbolitionists were formed in Edinburgh, Glasgow andBridge of Allan, men and women, especially women,who laboured with Scottish tenacity and perseverancetill quite recent years. I think I have said enoughon this subject in reply to the objection that we havedeparted from our original position, or on the otherhand that we were a clique of pious people of nowidth of view.

May I add a few words to you, my friends, on asubject which is, I am sure, stirring many heartsjust now. You feel, I believe, as I do, thatChristianity, the true Church of Christ (I use the wordin its largest sense), is inclusive, and not exclusive.When the disciples of Christ saw a man casting outdevils, who was not a member of their group, theyforbade him to do so. What did the Master say?“Forbid him not, for he that is not against us is forus.” We have no intimation that this man everjoined the circle of the disciples, and yet of him theMaster said: “He is for us.” I have seen many justmen who give life-long labour to casting out the evilspirits of tyranny, oppression and injustice; andof these, whatever their formula of belief may be,the Judge of all will say, “Well done.” There aremany outside the Christian pale in whom the Spiritof Christ is working, and many of those who are nominallyantagonists of Christianity have been throwninto the position in which they are by the very forceof that Spirit within them which leads them to recoilfrom the manifest unchristliness of the teaching308of many of the churches and the intolerance of so-calledChristian governments. The true Church ofChrist is wider than all communions and creeds. Insome of those creeds our God has been so maligned,so caricatured, may I say, that many have beenturned into rebels, or apparently rebels, whose heartsare not really estranged from the true God. Thatpoor, unhappy and outwitted son of the PatriarchIsaac, who had in an evil hour sold his birthright fora miserable mess of pottage, cried with a loud andbitter cry: “Hast thou but one blessing, O myfather? Bless me, even me also, O my father!”Yes, the Eternal Father will bless the apparentlyrejected son. There is more than one blessing forthe sons of men, however much they may have erred,whose inmost hearts utter this bitter cry. TheGood Shepherd said: “I have other sheep whichare not of this fold. Them also I must bring, andthey will hear My voice!” There I rest.

You will pardon this expression of my heart’sconviction. I do not speak as an orthodox adherentof any church, but as one whom sorrow and lovehave taught that none of the great human family areforgotten by Him who redeemed them, by theEternal Father whose name is LOVE.

The following is part of the reply written byJosephine Butler to an Address sent to her fromthose present at this Neuchâtel Conference.

I should like, before concluding, to express in words athought which has come to me in my later experience.In the sacred writings there is a scene recorded309concerning the birth of Christ. The aged Simeon hadwaited all his life for the advent of the promisedMessiah. He took in his arms the infant Christ, andafter proclaiming Him as the promised Saviour of thehuman race to the end of time, he said to the motherof the Babe, “A sword shall pierce through thy ownsoul also, that the thoughts of many hearts may berevealed.” The sword-piercing of the heart ofwomanhood has been, and will continue to be, in aninfinitely humble degree the revealer of the thoughtsof men. The sorrow of the holy mother of Christ,the woman of the sword-pierced heart, is still bearingfruit.

In going from city to city on the continent ofEurope, I have felt that I must needs meet this sword-thrustwith open arms, and the promised result hasfollowed. The thoughts of many hearts have beenrevealed among the élite of earth, among whom Iinclude every creature of whatever rank, rich orpoor, whose regard is directed towards the light, whodesires justice and abhors injustice: the thoughtsof these begin to be expressed openly, in speech andin action. On the other hand, the thoughts arerevealed of those who desire at all costs to hold fasttheir base privileges, and to defend the means bywhich these privileges are safeguarded. Thethoughts of these also take expression in speech andin action. Silence and acquiescence are at an end.It is now war to the death through the revelation andoutward expression of men’s hearts for good and forevil. The sword-pierced heart of holy motherhood—amotherhood which lives by sympathy in many awoman who is not actually a mother—will continue310to work in this mission of revealing, and we know onwhich side will be the final victory.

When the question shall be asked, “What of thenight, brothers? What of the night?” the answerwhich I would leave with you, friends, is this:

My last words to you, in case I may not be permittedto remain long among you, will be words ofhope—all of hope. It cannot be said that now, aged,and often in pain and in much weakness, it is anynatural buoyancy which upholds me. It is a grantedhopefulness. The “Angel of the Dawn” is ever present.Deeply fixed in my soul is the conviction thatthe power and love of God are about to be manifestedin proportion to the troubles of our times, and farbeyond them. Is He not the Creator of the universe,of the myriads of the stars of heaven—God “oncemanifested in the flesh” in the person of the Christ?Everywhere—east, west, north, and south—thosewhose eyes are open see in this our day manifestationsof a spiritual power, of a loving, divine pressure onthe souls of men, of a holy compulsion bringing themto a new consciousness, and drawing them irresistiblyto the source of Light and Life. I believe that everyeffort, however humble, which is being made for thetriumph of good over evil will be found to be a contributiontowards the final victory, and towards thefulfilment of the Divine promise that the “knowledgeof the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters coverthe sea.” I am emboldened, therefore, to hand on toyou this message of joyful and undying hope, from311“the God of Hope and of all consolation.”

To a young worker in America.

February 26th, 1906.

You say that “many persons do not welcome newrecruits, lest they should make mistakes.” They willno doubt make some mistakes, but they will learn aswe did by our errors. This brings me to express thethought that has been uppermost in my mind for someyears past, viz. that the great hope for the futuremovement is in the young manhood of our day—in thegenerous heart of youth. Young women too mustand will come forward. But I press the fact of theneed of a great army of young men; for the great evilwhich we combat is the result of the egotism of men,and of the deeply-rooted idea that the sin of impurityis a greater sin in a woman than in a man. Thisunequal standard is the devil’s invention, and datesfrom very early times, in spite of the severe andsublime teaching in that matter of our Lord andSaviour Jesus Christ.

It must be the part of the young manhood of ourdays to make a place for womanhood, to restore themto their rightful position before the law of God, andbefore the laws of the land. And here I wish toemphasise the fact, that it is not only the pure andblameless of our youth who are called and who canwork effectually in this advance guard of the armyof the future. Let me tell you something of my ownlong experience. I have seen young men whose liveshave been far from blameless, some in whose heartsrankled an oppressive sense of the wasted past, evena terrible remorse—I have seen such throw themselvesinto the battle (not in a conspicuous position, to be312seen of men), in order to take a noble revenge againsttheir former selves, and die, if need be, as leadersof a forlorn hope, making merely a bridge of theirown dead selves for worthier comrades to pass overto victory.

So, I beseech you, let none of goodwill hold back.“Many a wounded soldier hath won the day.”Society is in peril from dangerous wounds which willnot close until the young, the brave, the reckless,for Christ’s sake shall throw themselves into theyawning gulf. Christ rejects none. It is to Hisglory that He is able to furnish precious materialout of the very rubbish of the earth, that He shouldgather up the fragments that remain that nothing belost, and direct to one holy end all these scatteredand desecrated energies.

Josephine Butler lived the last few years of herlife at Wooler, near to Milfield, the place of herbirth. There she died peacefully in her sleep, onDecember 30th, 1906, and was buried in the churchyardof Kirknewton, where many of her ancestorshad been buried.

Surely we may say of her, but very slightlyaltering the words of Bunyan: As she drew nighunto the beautiful Gate of the City, she asked,“What must I do in the Holy Place?” and theshining Ones answered,313 “Thou must there receivethe comfort of all thy toil, and have joy for all thysorrow; thou must reap what thou hast sown, eventhe fruit of all thy Prayers and Tears, and sufferingfor the King by the way. There also thou shaltserve Him continually, whom thou desired’st toserve in the World, though with much difficultybecause of the infirmity of thy flesh. There thineeyes shall be delighted with seeing, and thine earswith hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One.There thou shalt enjoy thy friends again, that aregone thither before thee; and there thou shalt withjoy receive even every one that follows into the HolyPlace after thee.” As she entered in at the Gate,then I heard in my Dream that all the bells in theCity rang again for joy, and that it was said untoher, “Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”

314

APPENDIX.
LIST OF JOSEPHINE E. BUTLER’S WRITINGS

Many of the above publications are out of print, but some ofthem may be obtained at the Offices of the Federation, 17 TothillStreet, Westminster, S.W., or 3 Rue du Vieux-Collège, Geneva.

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