CHAPTER IV

“More than we hoped, in that dark time, When, faint with watching, few, and worn, We saw no welcome day-star climb The cold, grey pathway of the morn.

“O weary hours! O night of years! What storms our darkling pathway swept, Where, beating back our thronging fears, By faith alone our march we kept.”

The year 1874 was a period of great depression and discouragement for our cause, while in that same year were recorded, more openly than ever before, the bold and vast designs of our opponents, the Regulationists, throughout Europe. For them it was the year of the greatest hope, and of the apparent approaching triumph of all their schemes.

Mr. Gladstone’s sudden resignation of office in the early part of the year, and the dissolution of Parliament, took the country by surprise and confused the reckonings of our Abolitionist party, who had for some years laboured, and with considerable success, to win the personal adhesion, one by one, of the members of the Parliament now dissolved. Our faithful Parliamentary leader, Mr. W. Fowler, lost his seat in the General Election which followed. Several of our best friends in the House also failed to secure their return to Parliament. But still more unfavourable for us was the excitement which prevailed during the spring and summer concerning several other political questions important for the people at large, causing our movement to take only a secondary place for the time, even in the minds of many who were truly convinced and in earnest about it. Our principles, indeed, seemed to be scarcely represented in the General Election. Those among us who understood the vital and far-reaching nature of those principles, and who had learned wherein our true strength lay, now held many grave and rather sorrowful consultations. It was at this time that one of our most solemn agreements was formed for united waiting upon God. An invitation was sent to our friends and allies throughout the United Kingdom to join, on a certain day, in groups in their own towns or neighbourhoods, in order definitely once more to place this sacred cause, and everything connected with it, in the hands of the Omnipotent Ruler of all.

It will be necessary to go back in order to trace the growth of the Regulation system in Europe, and the increasing audacity of the pretensions of certain medical and administrative cliques, culminating in a vast design, of which I am about to speak. This sketch shall be brief, for it is not my intention in these Reminiscences to enter into any of the medical and police details, which we were forced for many years to look into and judge. The aspects of the question on which these bear are set forth in other works, which are obtainable in England and on the Continent; for at the time of which I am now writing, a vast literature from the pens of the Regulationists had already been produced. I may mention the most important of the works on that side, namely: a ponderous volume by Dr. Jeannel, of Lyons; a large and, from the literary point of view, meritorious work by Dr. Mireur, of Marseilles; two books by M. Lecour, Prefect of the Morals’ Police in Paris, and others in German and other languages.

Up to the times of the First Empire in France, all regulations and laws directed against the social vice in the different countries of Europe were simply repressive, sometimes ferociously repressive, and in general taking effect upon the physically weaker sex only. Vicious men or women, who were hopelessly smitten by the greatest physical evil resulting from vice, were generally expelled or forcibly isolated. In some towns of France at one period such were hanged!

I have already indicated that it was during the profound disorganisation and misery produced by the wars of the First Empire that the system of the Police des Mœurs was first discussed, and in some cases established throughout the different countries of the European Continent. Gradually the contagion in favour of this oppressive and delusive scheme spread, until a complete network of regulations was formed, the meshes of which were drawn more tightly year by year. At first, in some countries, respect for individual liberty and for the private life of the humbler citizens, opposed a feeble barrier against the wholesale adoption of this system; but ultimately the hygienic question (considered solely from the materialistic point of view) dominated all others, and medical cliques sprang up in every country, claiming to be the sole repositories of wisdom concerning this great question which involves principles of justice, good government, economy, liberty, and virtue. This new-born medical tyranny, once having found its feet, never paused in its onward march, and it was generally acknowledged that the professional dictum of the doctors on this subject must become of absolute and exclusive authority. _Salis populi suprema lex_ was their boasted motto, applied in a very limited sense, however, and, because (of necessity) indissolubly linked with police and Governmental tyranny exercised over one sex alone, it became a falsehood and a mere cloak for the most selfish and cynical system ever devised by the materialistic egotist.

Having now grown bold, the defenders of this system began to feel that there was only one thing more needed to crown their success, one step further to be taken in order to complete this vast network. In 1825 the Belgian Society of Natural and Medical Science had thrown out a feeler in the direction of extending the system throughout the whole of Europe. Ten years afterwards, 1835, this question was again discussed in Brussels by the Medical Congress of Belgium. In 1841 the Council of Salubrity of Marseilles discussed the question, and resolved on the desirability of unity of action among all the different European administrations. In 1843 there again was held a deliberative meeting on the subject in the Belgian Academy of Medicine. In 1852 the “International Hygienic Congress” met in Brussels and discussed “the legislative and administrative measures necessary to impose upon all Communes the duty of carrying out the Regulations.” Finally, upon the invitation of the Belgian Government, the Belgian Superior Council of Hygiene elaborated in 1855 and 1856 a project for this purpose for all the Communes of their own Kingdom.

I cannot help remarking here on the fact that, while the public authorities in Belgium seem to have been the first to adopt, and, I might almost say, to devour greedily these evil principles first promulgated under Napoleon I., and while, up to some twelve years ago, the Belgian regulations were looked upon with profound respect by the defenders of this system in all countries as being the most perfect, the ideal form of this system, and the one which it was desirable should be imitated everywhere, later Belgian _authorities_, on the other hand, have been the first in Europe to take the initiative in endeavouring to throw off the yoke of this detestable tyranny. I say the Belgian authorities. In every other country the authorities have been slowly and with difficulty moved by the persistent action of different classes of the people, and the pressure of public opinion continued year after year. Nowhere except in Belgium has there been witnessed the remarkable sight of a Prime Minister with the majority of his colleagues in the Government, men of weight, and of serious character, deciding to endeavour themselves to bring about this reform which we advocate, and openly coming forward to announce their agreement with the principles of the Abolitionists. It is true that these honest men had been previously influenced—I may say, quietly educated—on the whole question by the “Belgian Society of Public Morality,” the prime mover in which was M. Jules Pagny, of Brussels, who afterwards had the powerful support of M. Emile de Laveleye, a Belgian himself. But till the year 1890, when we were invited to hold our International Congress in Brussels, and, indeed, up to the moment in which I am now writing, no Government of any country except that of Belgium has placed itself at the front of this movement, mastering the whole subject with an admirable humility and patience, and studying the best means of combating immorality, beginning with the abolition of this great public injustice and iniquity, State Regulation of vice.[4]

To return. It was the example of Brussels in 1856, probably, which influenced the doctors of Paris to promote a great demonstration by inviting the International Medical Congress to meet in that city in 1867. At that Congress the question of a universal application of the Police des Mœurs was considered. In order to give more _éclat_ to the measures there proposed, the Congress voted by acclamation, before beginning to discuss the question, that a Commission should be nominated at the end of the discussion which should be charged to visit the Governments of all countries to urge them to adopt a uniform system of medical police government in order to stamp out throughout the world the scourge of the physical effects of men’s vices. Among the numerous papers read on that occasion the most important was that of Dr. Jeannel, which entered minutely into all the international measures proposed to be adopted.

In 1869, the same year in which our organised opposition to the system arose in England, the question of international action in favour of regulated vice was discussed at a Conference at St. Petersburg. In the same year the well-known Dr. Crocq, of Brussels, and Dr. Rollet, of Lyons, presented at the Congress of Florence a report which they had been charged to draw up by the Congress at Paris. This report concluded with a petition from the Commission to the French Foreign Minister, praying him to further the appointment of an International Commission in order to “draw up a uniform regulation which should have the force of law in every country in the world.”

In 1873 the question was again brought forward in Vienna by the International Medical Congress held in that city. It had been somewhat cautiously, in the meanwhile, brought up at a Medical Congress in Rome in 1871, and again in Bordeaux early in 1873. It was at this Congress of Vienna, however, that the boldest and most triumphant note was sounded which had ever been heard from the Regulationist camp. The Congress demanded the prompt enactment of an international law in order to carry out their vast designs. A majority of the speakers on this occasion warmly recommended that the regulations of Brussels should be adopted as the model, one of them asserting, amidst the approbation of the listeners, that “_from the moment when prostitution shall become a regular and recognised institution, admitted and regulated by the State, its perfect organisation will become possible_.”[5]

We have strong evidence that the placing upon the English Statute Book of the law 1866–69 for the regulation of vice had greatly contributed to raise the hopes of the promoters of the international system which was aimed at. They looked upon the action of the English Parliament as a most happy presage; and from the year 1867 they had begun to act, with increasing determination, to multiply their assaults everywhere, and to arrogate to themselves the powers of legislators by drawing up endless Bills (_Projets de loi_) which they believed they would ultimately be able to impose on every nation. Everything pointed to the fact that they were about to strike a blow which should bring all the Governments of the civilised world down upon their knees before the great god of so-called medical science, and force them to conform to its will.

At this moment, however, a little cloud began to be visible on the edge of their vast and brilliant horizon. The Organising Committees of the Medical Congress of Philadelphia in 1876, and of one which was proposed for Geneva in 1877, learned with astonishment that certain doctors who were to be present at these meetings were coming prepared to oppose not only the great ideal International Project which had been so laboriously built up, but the principle and essence of the system of the Police des Mœurs itself. It would not do, they thought, to meet this opposition unprepared, or in any way to be drawn into a compromise. The Committees of these two Congresses therefore deemed it prudent simply to cut the question entirely out of their programmes!

From that time forward the International Regulation System which had been so imperiously demanded from the different Governments has been but rarely and very timidly defended. One may judge of the decline of the courage of the Regulationists by the ever feebler and fainter echoes of that demand which have been heard in every succeeding Regulationist Conference on the question, concluding by the Congress recently held at Lyons (in 1894), where the system of the Police des Mœurs only found three defenders.

On the 25th of June, 1874—the year of discouragement of which I have spoken—a few friends of the Abolitionist cause met to confer together at York. Their conference was in many respects a remarkable one. It consisted of a mere handful of the most steadfast supporters of the cause, who had come, some of them, from long distances. All were filled with a profound sense of the solemnity of the purpose which had brought them together. It was a time, as I have said, of deep depression in the work. Those who were present fully recognised the powerful array of organised forces against which they had to contend; they were filled with a kind of awe in the contemplation of those forces and the magnitude of the difficulties with which they were called to grapple. At the same time, every one of that group seemed animated by a deep and certain conviction that the cause would triumph. The circumstances under which this conference took place were such as to call strongly for the exercise of that faith which alone can animate reformers to contend against a sudden increase of an evil at whose destruction they aim. The voice of the Abolitionists had for a time been partially stilled by the clash of parties in the general election. For a time even the most energetic workers were unable to see what steps for the continuance of the work could most effectively be taken. Having hitherto felt themselves engaged in a battle for the abolition of the State sanction of vice in Great Britain only, they had become aware that a large and powerful organization on the Continent was seeking to increase the efficacy of the vice regulations, and for that purpose was appealing confidently to England to take the lead in organising under all the Governments of Europe an international scheme for the application of these regulations to every country, and to every seaport throughout the world.

After a period of silence for united prayer, the Rev. C. S. Collingwood, Rector of Southwick, Sunderland, addressed the little group around him in words which have never been forgotten by those who passed through the trial of faith of that year,—words which were assuredly inspired by God, and were His message to us at that period of anxious suspense. He said:—

“Our ceasing to be heard in Parliament for a time, or in the Press, or by public meetings, means necessarily so much clear gain to the other side. We have a most solemn charge, and cannot even maintain our ground except on the condition of ceaseless warfare. Much of the hostile pressure comes from abroad, and we shall do well to consider the propriety of carrying the war into the enemy’s country by establishing relations with leading and earnest opponents of the regulation of sin, say in France, Belgium, Prussia, Italy, etc., and stimulating opposition in these countries, and perhaps holding our own International Congress. There can be no doubt that in all the countries subjected to this degrading system, a few sparks would create a great fire of indignation and revolt against the immoral system.

“Observe the world-wide schemes of the enemy—they will not rest till the whole world is under their regulations; and they have hitherto got all they wanted, until they touched the sacred soil of England. From the moment when that desecration was known opposition commenced. North, South, East, West, the Regulationists have marched without let or hindrance, and they dream not yet of anything but further conquests. ‘What,’ we may imagine them saying, ‘what are trifling checks at the Cape of Good Hope, or in the United States, or in Bombay?[6] What is a temporary delay in England to a party whose plans embrace the whole wide world? There are plenty of other fields to occupy. Only keep up a steady fire upon England; she is the centre of the position; carry England and you are masters of the world.’

“We must not suppose that it is only the _Lancet_, or a Mr. Berkley Hill, or a Mr. Acton that we have to face. Behind them is a sort of International League of the doctors, supported by the institutions of Continental Europe. What (they ask) are a few women, a few noisy agitators, a few hundred thousand petitioners, a few superannuated prejudices? Yes, what are we,—only a few Christian Englishwomen and Englishmen—what are we against so-called science, and all the allies it invokes, against Kings and Prime Ministers, many-voiced over all the face of the earth? What, with International Medical Congresses, International Conferences, Governments looking on us with contempt and anger, newspapers stamping us out, the majority of a most influential profession smiling scorn on our protests, all kinds of figures arrayed against us, even the figures of our own insignificant minority, against the voice of civilised Europe—What are we to think?—to do? Should we not rest content with the verdict[7] of May, 1873, and leave the field to the undisputed possession of supervised vice? _No! a thousand times no!_ We will remember the victory over Amalek, ‘the first of the nations,’ by a feeble people sustained by prayer; we will think of the stripling David, how he defeated Goliath with a sling and a stone; we will mark the vanity of Sennacherib’s ‘great host’ and how it melted away before the might of God, invoked by the faithful Hezekiah; and time would fail to multiply encouraging facts which abound in modern as well as ancient times, and command those who defend God’s cause never to despair.

“Some of us must remember how hopeless we used to think the abolition of American slavery. The constitution of the United States, the political power of the South, the apathy of the North, the attitude of the religious bodies, all made it seem the wildest of hopes. But we have seen it abolished, and we will never despair in any struggle where we are sure God is on our side. It is the blessedness of history, both sacred and profane, that when all the force is spent, and the noise of the times is over, it tells us of the power of the pure, the just, the true, and the impuissance of whatever has arrayed itself against these angels of God. As ‘principles are rained in blood,’ so they have their dark hours, which daunt no true man nor woman, but drive them to God’s footstool, there to receive faith and strength for fresh encounters and new efforts. The weapons of our warfare are not carnal; we believe, and therefore we speak and fight; and comparatively few though we may be, we measure not our prospects of success by numbers, or weight, or metal; we recall those former Heaven-blessed struggles, in which the King’s soldiers were as few and as feeble as we, and we know that we shall succeed if we faint not.

“When Granville Sharp, in 1772, obtained the famous decision that a slave is free as soon as he touches English territory, he did not think it one of the first steps towards the general abolition of the slave trade and of slavery everywhere; but it was so; and thus, when some noble ones among us raised a cry of horror and indignation on finding that supervised vice had presumed to desecrate our English soil, they little guessed how far their voices would reach, nor what the work was upon which they unwittingly were entering, nor what the victories which they were to achieve. But they have already been able to produce great effects in Africa, Australia, and the United States; and, though still unsuccessful at home, we and they believe that the opposition which has commenced in England will obtain its utmost success here, and that a force of public opinion and true sentiment is being slowly generated which will cross all lands and seas, and in its progress sweep away everywhere the monstrous organisation of vice, against which we lift our voices to-day.”

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

This conference at York marked the first step in that great expansion of the movement which has called forth a protest against legalised vice in so many countries, resulting in an organised international opposition to that modern slave system. The meeting at York passed a formal resolution, not embracing any large scheme, but merely accepting, with approbation, a proposition to open correspondence with opponents of the Regulation system abroad, and requesting the Ladies’ National Association, who had already several foreign correspondents, to commence operations, with a view to stimulate public opinion in Continental countries.

This work of opening correspondence, in accordance with the resolution above mentioned, was, in its beginning, an apparently feeble, as it was, indeed, a laborious undertaking, carried on somewhat in the vague and in the dark. Having obtained a list of addresses of philanthropic workers in various countries in Europe, I posted a brief appeal to every address contained in it, in the hope of drawing forth some expression of sympathy in our objects.

One little incident may illustrate the manner in which, before and during that campaign, every effort seemed to be providentially guided.

In August of that year I picked up, by what we call chance, a little book containing the names and addresses of persons connected with some international benevolent organization. I addressed a few letters to some of these, making an appeal on this question. One of these was addressed to a Mr. Humbert, of Neuchâtel. It never reached its destination, and, had it done so, possibly might never have met with a response; but the Neuchâtel postman made a mistake, as postmen sometimes, though very seldom, do. In this case it was a happy mistake. He took the letter to another Mr. Humbert, Mr. Aimé Humbert, who opened it. He was no stranger to the question. He had for years said to himself, “When I am more free from other public work, I must turn to this terrible subject.”

Shortly afterwards I received a letter from Mr. Aimé Humbert, acknowledging my appeal as providential. I had told him of my projected visit to the Continent that same winter, and in reference to that he said:—“You are about to confront not only the snows of winter, but the ice that binds so many hearts on the Continent. Bring among us, then, the fire of that faith which can remove mountains. The breath of the most High can break the icebergs in pieces, and kindle a mighty conflagration.”

It was one of the most severe winters of this century (1874–1875), but the opposition of the elements seemed a little matter in comparison with that of the prejudice, blindness and passion which threatened at first to block the way to success in such an enterprise.

As Mr. Aimé Humbert occupied for so many years a very prominent position in our International Federation, I may here give a brief account of his career previous to our becoming acquainted with him.

He was born in 1819, in the Canton of Neuchâtel, educated at Lausanne and several of the German Universities, and married, in 1843, Marie Müller, daughter of the Secretary of the Royal Consistory of Wurtemburg. At the close of the revolution which severed Neuchâtel from the crown of Prussia, M. Humbert, who was one of the principal actors in securing the freedom of his Canton, was called to take a part in its Government, and filled for ten years the office of Minister of Public Instruction. Nominated at the same time a Member of the Federal Parliament, he occupied for one year the Post of President of the “Chambres des Etats Suisses.” The Federal Council charged him, in 1858, to act with the Minister Plenipotentiary of Switzerland, M. Kearn, in concluding the treaty of Paris concerning Neuchâtel. In 1862 he was entrusted by the Federal Council with a Mission to Japan, as Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary, to bring about a treaty of Commerce with Switzerland. His very excellent work on Japan, which has given him a status in Europe as a geographer, has been translated into English.

In his character as a scientific man he was also appointed a Member of the École Polytechnique of Zurich, Corresponding Member of the Geographical Society of Geneva, and a member of the Honorary Committee of the International Geographical Congress of Paris; besides being appointed President or Member of many other Literary and Scientific Societies.

But before I go on to speak of our first essay on the Continent, I must record an event at home which gave a great impulse to our cause.

The defeat of the Liberal party in this year (1874), freed Mr. Stansfeld from the restraints of office as a Minister of the Crown. In July Sir Harcourt Johnstone invited a number of Members of Parliament to his house to discuss the position of the Abolitionist question. Mr. Stansfeld went there with others, and proposed that Sir Harcourt himself should move in the House for leave to bring in a Bill for Repeal. This he did.

On the 15th October a great public meeting was held in the Colston Hall, Bristol, at which Mr. Stansfeld made his first public appearance as a champion of our cause. It was a notable occasion. He was surrounded on the platform by a number of the best and most devoted men and women, who had worked from the beginning, and who watched his entrance upon this field of battle with a very deep and solemn interest. It was the first time that an ex-Minister of the Crown, a distinguished and recognised leader of one of the great political parties, had appeared upon our platform. It would be difficult to exaggerate the value of such service to our cause; but Mr. Stansfeld brought to it not only his widely known name, but deep convictions, indomitable courage and great eloquence. This, his first speech for us, attracted the attention of the whole country, and led to a discussion of the question by the press of the country, which for a short time abandoned the “conspiracy of silence,” resuming it again, however, some weeks later. The _Times_ sincerely regretted “that a statesman of Mr. Stansfeld’s eminence should identify himself with such an hysterical crusade, in which it is impossible to take part without herding with prurient and cynical fanatics.” The _Saturday Review_ said that “Governments with real responsibility upon them cannot regard life with this primitive straightforwardness, and must be content to trust that what is required for the health of a people is also the most in harmony with Christianity.” Which was a supremely haughty way of saying that if the methods of Governments and Christianity did not agree, so much the worst for Christianity.[8]

After an address of extraordinary power, full of lucid argument, Mr. Stansfeld concluded with the following words:—“Full of a sense of special responsibility, I have dived down into the very depths of this question, and have impressed myself with the profound conviction that this system is immoral and unconstitutional, and calculated to degrade and debase the manhood and the womanhood of the country. I have watched the insidious materialism creeping over the country and entangling in the meshes of its wide-sweeping net many good men and good women unconscious whither they were going, and deceived by appeals made to them in the name of benevolence, and for the sake of diminishing physical suffering. I have seen good men and women, brave men and braver women master the intense repugnance which a refined and sensitive person must feel on such a subject; I have seen women with all their exquisite sensitiveness coming before the public to plead the cause of virtue against that of legalised vice; and I have marked these women hounded down, hooted at with unseemly language, gestures, and even threats, and I know that, were not the spirit of the law of this country too strong, their lives and persons might have been exposed to danger and to outrage, as the lives and persons of the Abolitionists of America were at the hands of the man-stealers and slave-holders of the South. I have marked these things. I have put my hand to the plough; I have cast in my lot with those men and women (for ever reverenced be their names!) who hitherto have led a hope which too long has seemed a forlorn hope; and never will I desist, and never will they desist, from this sacred agitation until these degrading laws are blotted out from the statute book for ever.”

Mr. Stansfeld made no vain boast on this occasion. He has kept his word. He has fulfilled his promise. In numberless meetings at home and abroad, on many important occasions, his powerful advocacy of our cause has been heard, and up to the present time, in spite of the pressure of other public duties, and of the encroaching disabilities of age, he has maintained the same attitude; he has lent his powerful aid to the great question of Abolition in India, and never fails in his interest and helpfulness in any part of the work in which we are engaged.[9]

I left England for the Continent in December, 1874, and reached Paris, accompanied by one of my sons, my husband and my other sons joining me ten days later.

I was armed with some good introductions, or rather affectionate recommendations from English friends to all and every one who might consent to hear my message. One of these was signed by Mr. William Shaen on behalf of our National Association, of which he was the able President for a long period of years. Another was from the Friends’ Abolitionist Society, and was signed by leading men and women among the Quakers. This body of Christians had gained the hearts of our Continental neighbours in a remarkable degree by their devotion to the sufferers (of both nationalities engaged) during and after the Franco-German War. I found their name a ready passport on several occasions. Lord Derby, our Foreign Minister at the time, very willingly gave me a letter, written from the Foreign Office, stating briefly my aims, and his desire for my safety and success. This last was useful in Paris.

It was bitterly cold. The streets of Paris were filled with melting snow, and a depressing fog hung over the city. After making several calls on members of the Protestant community, I went to the headquarters of the monstrous police tyranny in Paris. I gave an account of this visit, in writing, to one of our leading friends at home. I reproduce the letter here, as impressions recorded at the time are more vivid than those which we may try to revive after many years.

“_December, 1874._

“I spent a part of yesterday at the Prefecture of the Morals’ Police; it was an exceedingly painful visit to me. I was struck in the first place with the grandeur of the externals of the Prefect’s office, and the evidence of the political and social power wielded by that man Lecour. The office is one of those handsome blocks of buildings on the banks of the Seine. It has great gateways, within which guards are pacing up and down; a broad stone staircase, where guards stand at intervals; a number of official-looking men passing to and fro with papers, or accompanying people desiring an audience. I reached the top of the stone stairs and the Prefect’s outer door, over which in large gold letters were printed the words: ‘_Arrestations, Service des Mœurs_.’ I was faint and out of breath, and an old guard stared at me with curiosity as I gazed at those mendacious words, ‘Service of Morals.’ I knew it all before, but here the fact came upon me, with peculiar and painful vividness, that man had made woman his degraded slave by a decree which is heralded in letters of gold, and by a tyranny of procedure which, if it were applied to men, would soon set all Paris in flames, and not merely a few of its buildings. That _Service des Mœurs_ seemed a most impudent proclamation of the father of lies; it so clearly and palpably means the ‘_Service de Debauche_.’ M. Lecour’s whole conversation showed that it is debauchery and not morals that he is providing for and serving.

“I entered, and was kept waiting in an ante-room for half an hour, until the great man had dismissed certain business. At last a venerable servant, in livery covered with gold lace, directed me to follow him. He ushered me into Lecour’s audience chamber, a well-furnished room. His appointments and surroundings are more imposing than the room of any Minister of State that I have yet seen in England. There were two men in the room whose business was not yet concluded; why Lecour admitted me then I do not know; perhaps he was nervous about seeing me alone. He might have guessed that I would take stock of all I saw and heard. He was standing behind an imposing desk, with his visitors in front of him. He waved his hand majestically, and bade me be seated, telling the venerable servant to give me a newspaper to read. I pretended to look at the newspaper, but kept my ears open to every word which was spoken. What occurred left on my mind the most mournful impression. What a tragedy there seemed to be implied in the scene which passed! The first man Lecour asked to state his case was a gentlemanly elderly man, fatherly-looking, grave and sad; he spoke in a low, hoarse voice, and appeared to be making a great effort to repress his feelings; his voice and words were those of a man full of wrath and sorrow. I thought there was a look of suppressed vengeance about him. He leaned on an umbrella, clutching the handle tightly with both hands; there was a long altercation; on Lecour’s side flippancy, sentiment, many words, and an apparent desire to get rid of the man by a few promises while making out a case against a woman for whom this man had come to plead. Frequently the Prefect lowered his voice so that I could not catch his words, while, in the midst of his gesticulations and talk, the other man repeated three times in a voice which I can never forget: ‘But you accused her! you accused her!’ Then I heard Lecour detail in many and rapid words how the woman (she might have been the daughter of the elderly man; she was evidently some one dear to him) had at one time been guilty of ‘levity.’ He hinted something mysteriously about her antecedents having been questionable. I longed to fling back the charge and ask the Prefect of his own antecedents, and the present life of the men for whom he now provides shameful indulgence. Lecour then told of an interview he himself had had with the woman (this seemed fearfully to agitate the elderly man), in which he described how she wept and showed signs of deep distress. ‘I told her,’ said the Prefect, ‘that if I saw signs of a real repentance persevered in, I should _forgive_ her.’ These last words were spoken in a tone of conscious power and pride. The man Lecour appears to me—and I tried to judge without prejudice—very shallow, vain, talkative; his arguments are of the weakest; he has a certain dramatic cleverness, and acts all he says with face, arms and legs. His countenance is to me very repulsive, although his face, which is in the barber’s block style, might be called handsome as to hair, eyes, eyelashes, etc. He has a fixed smile, that of the hypocrite, though certainly he is _not_ exactly a hypocrite. He is simply a shallow actor, an acrobat, a clever stage-manager. Probably he persuades himself of what he is constantly saying to others; intoxicated with the sense of power, chattering and gesticulating like an ape, at the head of an office which is as powerful as that of the Roman Prefects of the City in the time of Rome’s corruption. And such is the man who stands in the position of holding in his hand, so to speak, the keys of heaven and hell, the power of life and death, for the women of Paris!

“The elderly man was not in the least consoled by the assurance ‘I would forgive her,’ and only repeated his sullen ‘but you accused her.’ I think he was pleading to get her name taken off the register of shame. That he did not succeed, and turned and left the room in silence with no salutation to the Prefect, should show to our Englishmen what a tyranny for _themselves_, as men and fathers, this horrible system may become. M. Jules Favre tells me that the head of the Government in France can do nothing without the consent of the Prefects of Police, permanent officials, stronger than the Government itself, and that MacMahon sends for these men first thing every morning to take counsel with them. Is it not a good deal like that wretched time in Rome, when the Pretorian Guards elected, deposed, or dictated to the Emperor of the time, and became themselves the most oppressive of tyrants?

“The second man who had an audience was of a different kind. He was a young, stout, overfed-looking man, and his conversation with Lecour was of a friendly character. The Prefect called him near to him behind his great desk, and much of the conversation was in whispers. It seemed to be concerning the internal economy of some of the protected houses of debauchery. The young man asked about the literature allowed in these houses, and Lecour deprecated certain journals, which were too republican, and ought not to be read by women. Lecour regulates the reading in these houses, and he turned to a great bundle of papers to show the young man those papers which were allowed. Lecour professed affection and esteem for the young man, and there was a kindness in his manner which contrasted strongly with his conduct towards the elderly man.

“Having dismissed his young protégé, the great man was ready for me. By this time anger had made me bold. I stood up before him, declining to sit. I told him who I was, and why I had come to Paris. He said he knew very well who I was. His manner became rather excited and uneasy. I continued all the time to look very steadily, but not rudely, at him. I knew that I, at least, was utterly sincere, and I inwardly invoked the presence of Him who is the searcher of hearts, that He might be there, a witness between us two. Instinctively, therefore, I kept my eyes fixed on the man to see if there was any sincerity in him. He became more and more talkative, as if to drown me with words; in fact, I could scarcely get a word spoken. I therefore just put a distinct question or two in the few pauses allowed, as if desirous of information, and then he started off volubly with his answers. This was useful to me, for he surely said much more than was prudent. I asked him the latest statistical results. He hesitated, but when I pressed for it he opened a desk and gave me a little book, the last written by himself, which has some curious matter in it. I asked if vice and disease were diminished or increased the last five years in Paris. He answered promptly, ‘Oh, increased, they go always increasing, continually increasing’; these were his words (in French, he does not speak a word of English). Then I tried to hold him to a point, and get him to tell me the causes of this increase. He attributed it solely to two things, which I think will surprise you, _i.e._, to the temporary ascendency of the Commune, and the increasing ‘coquetry’ of women. I could not restrain an expression of contempt at his last remark, which he seemed to think quite a satisfactory and exhaustive answer. I then made an onslaught, and said (looking up at a speck of blue sky, which I saw through the window, and holding on to it, as it were) that I—we—consider the whole system which he represents as an absurdity, because of its inequality of application; that men are immoral, and liable to the physical scourge of vice as well as women, while the system only attacks women; and that any theory of health, based on injustice and a supposed necessity for vice, must end in not only ridiculous and total failure, but in increased confusion and vice. He listened impatiently, still with his fixed smile. I purposely avoided speaking of morality or religion, and tried to nail him to the logical view of necessary failure through injustice and one-sidedness of application. Off he went again, denouncing women and their seductions. I interrupted him rather abruptly by reminding him that in this crime which he was denouncing, namely, prostitution, there were two parties implicated. I asked him if he had been so long at the Prefecture without its occurring to him that the men for whose health he labours, and for whom he enslaves women, are guilty in the same sense as women. This challenge as to the equality of guilt, and, perhaps, a little irony in my tone, roused him, and he became agitated and excited. He left his retreat, and came out into the room and paced up and down. He then acted, in the most disagreeable manner, an imaginary scene between a poor woman, a temptress, and a young man. He seemed to think that I was an ignoramus, and that this would convert me. He described in the old, hackneyed, sentimental manner with which we are familiar, an ‘honourable young man’ dining out, partaking _un peu généreusement_ of wine; a girl meets him, marks his unsteady gait—and then he acted how she would place her arm in his and tempt him. There was no comparison, he said, between the two: the man was simply careless; the woman was a deliberate, determined corrupter. ‘With what motive?’ I asked, ‘tell me, is it not often the case that the woman is poor, for I know that in Paris work is scarcely to be found just now; or else she is a slave in one of your permitted houses, and is sent out by her employers on what is their, rather than her, business?’ He smilingly denied this and said, ‘Oh, no, no, it was not poverty, it was simply coquetry.’ Then he said in a pompous and would-be impressive manner, ‘Madame, remember this, that women continually injure _honest_ men, but no man ever injures an honest woman.’ Then he stood as one who had cast down a challenge which could not be taken up. ‘Excuse me,’ I said, ‘you, yourself, have written otherwise in your book. Here you speak of “wives and honest girls injured by immoral and depraved men.”’ Then he changed his tone and replied, ‘Ah, yes, but all that belongs to the region of romance; I am only speaking of what can be recognised and forbidden by the police. The police cannot touch the region of romance; nor can the State. You would not desire that it should, would you?’ I replied that I desired justice, but that I could not expect justice in this matter at the hands of the police. Then he suddenly assumed a solemn expression and changed his line of argument. He said, ‘Madame, écoutez! moi, je suis religieux; I am as religious as yourself.’ Then he said, as a religious man, he must admire the punishment of vice (in women only), and that when you could not punish you must regulate; that among all the plans the world has ever tried, which is of any avail, and the thing of which I would myself become eventually the advocate, when I had had more experience, was his own system, the system of arrests, constant arrests of women. He kept reiterating that he was as religious as myself, and I said rather sharply, ‘That may be, sir; I did not come here, however, to speak to you about religion, but about justice.’ To me they are one. The religion he spoke of was merely a bit of sentiment unworthy of the name. I brought him back to the failure, hygienically, of his system, on account of its injustice. He shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘But who hopes to see perfect justice established? Who hopes for great hygienic results?’ ‘Those,’ I replied, ‘belong, I suppose, to the region of romance.’ I thanked him for his information, and asked him to be so good as to give me a letter which would admit me to the whole of the St. Lazare. (The St. Lazare was then entirely at the Prefect’s service, an immense prison, hospital, and general depôt for all the unhappy women of Paris, both for the vicious and those accused only of _vagabondage_, or who were seeking work and had no friends.) He summoned a secretary, and in a commanding way, directed him to write a letter giving me _carte blanche_ to see everything. When the man brought it back, Lecour sat down and wrote a postscript, in which he requested ‘that every facility should be given to the very honourable lady from England.’ Then he signed it largely and stamped it with the stamp of the Prefect. So now I can go about under his benign protection. I smiled as he wrote, thinking of the shadowy fears which some of my friends felt when I was leaving England, lest I should be seriously annoyed by the police. How wonderfully Providence turns things upside down! Here was the very head of the much-hated Morals’ Police himself sanctioning all I might wish to do with a great flourish, and full of vanity in the performance.

“I could now enter even any of the dreadful houses which are under his superintendence; his letter would be all-powerful. At the door, I suddenly remembered the case of an innocent Swiss girl I had found, whom his police are tormenting. I stated her case, assuming that he would at once give orders for her to be let alone. At this his smiling character suddenly changed for a moment. Almost spitting like a cat, he said, with sudden irritation, ‘Mais quelles bêtises vous ont-elles dit!’ and a strange expression came over his face. But he quickly recovered himself. He evidently was making an effort to produce a good impression, and to part friends. I felt very sad as I left his place.”