MY CONVERSION
It was in August-September, 1908, at “The Green Lady Hostel,”
Littlehampton, the holiday house of the Esperance Girls’ Club, that
I met Mrs. Pethick Lawrence and Miss Annie Kenney. I was two or
three days in the house with them without discovering that they were
Suffragettes or that there was anything unusual about their lives.
But I realised at once that I was face to face with women of strong
personality, and I felt, though at first vaguely, that they represented
something more than themselves, a force greater than their own seemed
behind them. Their remarkable individual powers seemed illumined and
enhanced by a light that was apart from them as are the colours and
patterns of a stained-glass window by the sun shining through it. I
had never before come across this kind of spirituality. I have since
found it a characteristic of all the leaders in the militant section
of the woman’s movement, and of many of the rank and file. I was much
attracted by Mrs. Lawrence, and became intimate with her at once on the
strength of our mutual friendship for Olive Schreiner. We had, besides,
many other interests and sympathies in common. The first Sunday that
we were together, the girls of the club were asked to come in early
that evening, so that Jessie Kenney, Annie Kenney’s sister, who had
only recently been released from Holloway, might tell them of her
prison experiences. I then realised that I was amongst Suffragettes.
I immediately confessed to them that although I shared their wish for
the enfranchisement of women, I did not at all sympathise with the
measures they adopted for bringing about that reform. I had, however,
always been interested in prisons and recognised from the first that,
incidentally, the fact of many educated women being sent to gaol for a
question of conscience must do a great deal for prison reform, and I
was delighted at this opportunity of hearing first-hand something about
the inner life of a prison. I listened eagerly and was horrified at
some of the facts recorded. Amongst these I remember specially that the
tins in which the drinking water stood were cleaned with soap and brick
dust and not washed out, the tins being filled only once or at most
twice in twenty-four hours; the want of air in the cells; the conduct
of prison officials towards the prisoners.
Having betrayed my disapproval of the Suffragette “tactics,” which
seemed to me unjustified, unreasonable, without a sense of political
responsibility, and as setting a bad example in connection with a
reform movement of such prominence, there was naturally something
of coolness and reserve in my further intercourse with Mrs. Pethick
Lawrence and the Kenneys. But before their brief stay at the club came
to an end, I achieved a talk with each of the leaders.
One evening, after incessant rain, Annie Kenney and I marched
arm-in-arm round the garden, under dripping trees. I explained that
though I had always been for the extension of the suffrage to women, it
did not seem to me a question of prime urgency, that many other matters
of social reform seemed more important, and I thought class prejudice
and barriers more injurious to national welfare than sex barriers. I
was deeply impressed with her reply. She said, in a tone of utmost
conviction: “Well, I can only tell you that I, who am a working-class
woman, have never known class distinction and class prejudice stand
in the way of my advancement, whereas the sex barrier meets me at
every turn.” Of course, she is a woman of great character, courage and
ability, which gives her exceptional facilities for overcoming these
drawbacks, but her contention that such powers availed her nothing
in the face of sex prejudices and disabilities, and the examples
she gave me to bear out her argument, began to lift the scales of
ignorance from my eyes. She was careful to point out that the members
of her own family had been remarkably free from sex prejudice, and
her illustrations had no taint of personal resentment. She explained
how the lot of women being not understood of men, and they being the
only legislators, the woman’s part had always got laid on one side,
made of less importance, sometimes forgotten altogether. She told how
amongst these offices of women was the glorious act of motherhood and
the tending of little children. Was there anything in a man’s career
that could be so honourable as this? Yet how often is the woman who
bears humanity neglected at such times, so that life goes from her,
or she is given no money to support her child. I felt that through
Annie Kenney’s whole being throbbed the passion of her soul for other
women, to lift from them the heavy burden, to give them life, strength,
freedom, joy, and the dignity of human beings, that in all things
they might be treated fairly with men. I was struck by her expression
and argument, it was straightforward in its simplicity, yet there was
inspiration about her. All that she said was obvious, but in it there
was a call from far off, something inevitable as the voice of fate. She
never sounded a note of sex-antipathy; it was an unalloyed claim for
justice and equity of development, for women as for men.
Then Mrs. Pethick Lawrence and I, during a day’s motoring expedition,
achieved a rare talk out. She met all my arguments, all my prejudices
and false deductions with counter-arguments, and above all with facts
of which I had till then no conception. I trusted her because of what I
had learnt of her personality, her character, mind, wide education and
experience, and was to a certain extent at once impressed; still I only
half believed many of the things she reported, the real purport of her
statements did not yet sink into my soul as they were soon to do, fact
upon fact, result upon result, as I found out their truth for myself.
During my stay at Littlehampton I witnessed a scene which produced
a great impression upon my conscience. One morning, while wandering
through the little town, I came on a crowd. All kinds of people were
forming a ring round a sheep which had escaped as it was being taken to
the slaughter-house. It looked old and misshapen. A vision suddenly
rose in my mind of what it should have been on its native mountain-side
with all its forces rightly developed, vigorous and independent. There
was a hideous contrast between that vision and the thing in the crowd.
With growing fear and distress the sheep ran about more clumsily and
became a source of amusement to the onlookers, who laughed and jeered
at it. At last it was caught by its two gaolers, and as they carried
it away one of them, resenting its struggles, gave it a great cuff in
the face. At that I felt exasperated. I went up to the men and said,
“Don’t you know your own business? You have this creature absolutely in
your power. If you were holding it properly it would be still. You are
taking it to be killed, you are doing your job badly to hurt and insult
it besides.” The men seemed ashamed, they adjusted their hold more
efficiently and the crowd slunk away. From my babyhood I have felt a
burning indignation against unkindness to animals, and in their defence
I have sometimes acted with a courage not natural to me. But on seeing
this sheep it seemed to reveal to me for the first time the position
of women throughout the world. I realised how often women are held
in contempt as beings outside the pale of human dignity, excluded or
confined, laughed at and insulted because of conditions in themselves
for which they are not responsible, but which are due to fundamental
injustices with regard to them, and to the mistakes of a civilisation
in the shaping of which they have had no free share. I was ashamed to
remember that although my sympathy had been spontaneous with regard
to the wrongs of animals, of children, of men and women who belonged
to down-trodden races or classes of society, yet that hitherto I had
been blind to the sufferings peculiar to women as such, which are
endured by women of every class, every race, every nationality, and
that although nearly all the great thinkers and teachers of humanity
have preached sex-equality, women have no champions among the various
accepted political or moral laws which serve to mould public opinion of
the present day.
Nothing could have exceeded the patience, the considerate sympathy
even, with which both Annie Kenney and Mrs. Lawrence endured my
arguments, arguments, as I now realise them to have been, without
any genuine element, stereotyped and shallow. Before we parted, Mrs.
Lawrence said to me, and it was the only one of her remarks which
savoured in the least of the contempt which my attitude at that time
so richly deserved, “You are sufficiently interested in our policy to
criticise it, will you be sufficiently interested to study its cause
and read up our case?”
For two months I “read up” the subject as I had never read in my
life before; I took in the weekly paper _Votes for Women_, the only
publication which gave events as they happened, not as they were
supposed to happen. I attended as many meetings as I could, and the
breakfasts of released suffrage prisoners, whereat the spirit behind
this movement, its driving force, seemed best exemplified. Above all, I
watched current politics from a different point of view. I still held
back from being converted, I criticised and argued at every turn, over
every fresh demonstration of the W.S.P.U., but I began to realise of
what stuff the workers in the movement were made; what price they paid
for their services so gladly given; how far removed they were from any
taint of self-glorification, and how amazingly they played the game of
incessantly advertising the Cause without ever developing the curse
of self-advertisement. I have never been amongst people of any sort
who were so entirely free from self-consciousness, self-seeking and
self-vaunting.
At this juncture of my conversion I was much concerned with the
arguments of Anti-Suffragists. I wrote a pamphlet to refute their
points of view, as generally presented in newspapers and magazines. I
was always, as it were, stopping on my road to combat their attitude.
It was only after considerably longer experience that I realised
the waste of energy entailed by this process, since the practical
opposition which blocks the way to the legal removal of sex disability
is not due to those men or women who have courage to publicly record
their opposition, but to those who take shelter in verbally advocating
the cause, while at the same time opposing any effective move for its
achievement. Anti-suffrage arguments or agitations should, of course,
be met whenever they present themselves, but it soon became clear to
me that in private intercourse many people put them forward without
any conviction, merely as a way of opening the conversation, and while
at heart much more interested in the positive than the negative side
of the question. The same is true of public audiences. The assertive
claim to the value of voting rights for men, wherever these are
denied, is perennially educating the public to our contention; one
has but to catch them “at it” to illustrate the claim of women. The
drawbacks resulting from laws and customs based on sex bias are also
constantly put forward by Anti-Suffragist men themselves, when they
are not considering the possible infringement of their own monopolies.
Lord Cromer has headed the agitation against freedom for women in
Great Britain. When he was responsible for the welfare of Egypt,
he wrote, concerning the Prophet Mahomet: “Unfortunately the great
Arabian reformer of the seventh century was driven by the necessities
of his position to do more than found a religion. He endeavoured
to found a social system. The reasons why Islam as a social system
has been a complete failure are manifold. First and foremost Islam
keeps women in a position of marked inferiority.” He quotes Stanley
Lane Poole in corroboration: “The degradation of women in the East
is a canker that begins its destructive work early in childhood, and
has eaten into the whole system of Islam.” Lord Cromer then draws
conclusions worthy of the most ardent Suffragette: “Look now to the
consequences which result from the degradation of women in Mahomedan
countries. It cannot be doubted that the seclusion of women exercises
a baneful effect on Eastern society. The arguments on this subject
are indeed so commonplace that it is unnecessary to dwell on them.
It will be sufficient to say that seclusion, by confining the sphere
of women’s interest to a very limited horizon, cramps the intellect
and withers the mental development of one-half of the population in
Moslem countries.... Moreover, inasmuch as women, in their capacities
of wives and mothers exercise a great influence over the characters
of their husbands and sons, it is obvious that the seclusion of women
must produce a deteriorating effect on the male population, in whose
presumed interests the custom was originally established, and is still
maintained” (“Modern Egypt,” Vol. II., chapter entitled “Dwellers in
Egypt,” pp. 134, 155, 156, First Edition). The contention of woman
Suffragists could not be more reasonably presented. Add to this the
belief of Englishmen in the power of the vote to lift from degradation
and to widen the outlook of citizens; their attitude towards rebellions
on behalf of constitutional rights by Russians, Turks, Persians, and
Uitlanders of South Africa; the principles of every constitution in
which Britishers have had a hand, notably in Australasia and South
Africa, and the case is complete. To meet the Anti-Woman Suffragist
arguments, it is only necessary to quote their own utterances.
My own researches had shown me not only the grievous harm to women from
the inequalities of law and custom with regard to them, but that in
many matters concerning men, and in practically all questions relating
to children, the help of women was needed with an urgency that would no
longer justify delay. I learnt that before resorting to militancy the
women’s organisations had for many years past succeeded in obtaining
a majority of supporters in the House of Commons, and the backing
of leading men of both parties. It was startling to realise that the
professed advocacy of such men as Lord Beaconsfield, the late Lord
Salisbury and Mr. Arthur Balfour had not moved the Conservative party
in any way to assist their cause. When the Liberal Government was
returned to power in 1906, under the leadership of Sir Henry Campbell
Bannerman, he himself was a declared Suffragist, as were all but a few
of the men of most influence in his Cabinet, including Mr. Birrell,
Mr. Buxton, Mr. John Morley and Mr. John Burns. Sir Edward Grey and
Mr. Haldane had themselves introduced a Woman Suffrage Bill in 1889.
Mr. Lloyd George, Mr. Runciman and Mr. Winston Churchill, who joined
the Cabinet in 1908, were strong verbal advocates of votes for women.
The women had tried repeatedly, and always in vain, every peaceable
means open to them of influencing successive Governments. Processions
and petitions were absolutely useless. I saw the extreme need of
their position, the ineffectiveness of every method hitherto adopted
to persuade these professed Suffragists to put their theories into
practice. But I still held aloof from completely backing their militant
action owing to mistrustfulness bred of ignorance as to its true nature.
After six weeks I reached the stage when I had little left to say
against the movement and my enthusiasm for the workers in it was
considerable, but on the whole my attitude was of a negative order. I
was still not prepared to back my theoretic approval by action when,
on October 13, Mrs. Pankhurst, Mrs. Drummond and Christabel Pankhurst
were arrested for issuing the famous handbill calling upon the people
of London to witness the women’s deputation to the Prime Minister and
to help them “rush” the House of Commons.
At a crowded meeting at the Queen’s Hall the previous day, Monday,
October 12, the leaders announced that a warrant had been served upon
them and that at any moment the police might come in and arrest them
on the platform. The meeting was enthusiastically in their favour and
the announcement caused an outburst of indignation. This, however,
was instantly suppressed by the leaders, who explained that they were
under a compact with the managers of the hall never to use these weekly
meetings for any insubordinate demonstrations; that if the police
arrived and proceeded to arrest them they would only be carrying out
their orders; that if this happened, no interference, not a murmur
of resentment must come from the audience. After a few moments they
settled down under this decree with reluctant but strikingly obedient
resignation. Before long the police were announced to be at the door.
After some moments of interchanging messages with the leaders on the
platform, during which the suspense in the hall was tremendously taut,
the police left saying that the women arrested would have to report
themselves at Bow Street the following morning. The next day, Tuesday,
October 13, I called at the W.S.P.U. offices in Clement’s Inn to offer
my sympathy. I regretted that I was still not sufficiently in agreement
with their militant policy to join the deputation, but inquired
whether there were any lesser services which I could render them. I was
asked to try and approach the Home Secretary with a view to securing
1st Division treatment for the prisoners as political offenders instead
of ranking them, as hitherto, with criminals in the 2nd and 3rd
Divisions. From the first I had been in sympathy with this demand. To
publicly maintain that the Suffragists, even if their breaking of the
law were proved, had anything in common with the ordinary transgressor
for selfish ends, appeared to me ludicrous as well as tyrannous on
the part of the Government. I therefore willingly undertook the task,
although I was convinced that my efforts would meet with no immediate
success. I had already grasped this much of the spirit of the militants
that rightness of aim is the factor controlling their actions;
likeliness of achievement, in so far as this depends not on themselves
but on their opponents, is not a matter to be considered. Looking back
at the advance of their cause since militant action began in October,
1905, it seems to me that its amazing rapidity has been chiefly due
to the unswerving carrying out of this principle. At every stage the
militants selected a line of conduct, not in itself rebellious, but on
the contrary, morally and constitutionally in accordance with accepted
opinion and law. It has been the ignoring or deliberate repression
of their lawful claims which produced disturbances. The unreasoned
punishments which followed in no way altered the women’s need nor their
determined claim for legal redress. The sufferings of their comrades
merely heaped fuel on the fires of their enthusiasm and inevitably
exposed the reactionary nature of the Government’s attitude towards
them. I did not obtain 1st Division treatment for the prisoners, but my
observations during that memorable day made me a complete convert to
the policy of militancy.
From about 4 in the afternoon to 11.30 at night I was incessantly
on the move between Clement’s Inn, the House of Commons, Bow Street
Police Station and the private residence of the magistrate. I had ample
opportunity of noticing the nature of the crowd summoned by the famous
handbill and of studying the attitude of mind of the authorities,
of the Home Office, the magistrate, and of the police towards our
movement. The facts which I noted that day as a spectator were typical,
and corroborated afterwards in every respect when it came to my own
experience. The decisions of the Government as expressed through the
Home Office were pre-determined and detached from any consideration of
the political demand which was the root cause of the women’s rebellion.
The magistrate’s attitude was obviously affected, whether directly
or indirectly, by the Government’s lead. The political nature of the
offences of which our prisoners were accused was not admitted; their
purely nominal crimes were nevertheless punished with a severity
that was unheard of had they been judged as ordinary disturbers of
the peace. It was clear that the political motive of their actions
was recognised sufficiently to justify the authorities in assuming
that these actions would be continuous, an example to others, and a
dangerous appeal from an organised body, but the reason was ignored
when there was question of an inquiry into the political motive itself.
The police showed a much more straightforward and impartial attitude
whenever the conduct of our case was left entirely in their hands.
They never for a moment looked upon the suffrage prisoners as ordinary
rowdies, they realised that our motives were political and our actions
peaceable, but that our appeals were met in a quite different spirit
from those of other political agitators. The police, of course, in turn
came under the influence of those in authority over them, and when
under orders would knock us about in the streets, and accuse us in the
courts, according to the requirements imposed upon them. Under this
pressure, individual policemen would occasionally act with brutality
and unfairness, but in the main their treatment of Suffragists was
in striking contrast to that of the magistrates, the Home Office and
the Government. A great number of police constables are better versed
in the suffrage question and the woman question generally than most
politicians. They have been obliged to attend our meetings. They know
both the political and moral ethics of our policy. I have heard more
intelligent reasoning about votes for women from policemen (both when
my identity was known to them and when it was not) than has issued,
with but rare exceptions, from the House of Commons.
During the afternoon and evening of this day I had my first experience
of a suffrage crowd, immense in numbers, embracing every shade of
opinion on the question, from enthusiasm in favour to contemptuous or
angry hostility, largely interspersed with curiosity-mongers who were
fascinated by the fight although without interest for its cause. There
were men and women of all classes, but rowdyism was plainly not there,
and from that day forward I was convinced of the fact, self-evident
enough in all conscience, that the women never appealed to hooliganism
and that they had nothing to gain from and nothing to offer to that
element in the mob. The women, and the men too, who fight in this
cause, or assist it ever so remotely, have never been and never will be
of a self-seeking type, nor are they lovers of disturbance for its own
sake.
I first of all tried to interview the Home Secretary, Mr. Herbert
Gladstone,[1] at the House of Commons. I did not see him, but a
friendly member of Parliament acted as messenger boy between us. I
asked: (1) Would he use his powers to ensure that the three prisoners
should be sentenced to the 1st Division, and not to the 2nd Division
as though they were common criminals, which obviously they were not?
_Reply_: As the prisoners were not yet arrested he could not possibly
adjudicate on the question of their sentences. (2) If I returned at six
o’clock, the hour when they were to surrender to the summons, would he
then give me an answer? _Reply_: He had not the power, the question
rested with the police-court authorities; he had determined never to
interfere with sentences. (3) Would he give me a permit or some sort
of facilities to approach the magistrate? My messenger told me that it
would be useless to put this question, that Mr. Gladstone was in a
state of great anger over the whole proceedings, and that, even if he
had the power, nothing would induce him to help the Suffragettes to 1st
Division treatment. I then went to Bow Street Police Court. The crowds
were dense in Parliament Square, Parliament Street, and Trafalgar
Square, but extremely orderly. When I reached Bow Street it was past
six o’clock and the magistrate had left. On inquiring where I could
find him, I was ushered into an inner room before a superintendent who
wore a flat cap, not the usual policeman’s helmet. He was very civil,
but told me it was against the rules to give the private addresses
of magistrates and that Mr. Curtis Bennett would not be back until
ten o’clock the following morning for the Court. I put various other
questions. Though offering no practical assistance the answers led me
to realise a strangely unexpected atmosphere of sympathy, and after
a few moments hesitation I found myself telling this superintendent
the full purport of my mission. To my intense surprise he not only
expressed much approval, but burst out with a torrent of abuse against
the Government--“Why to goodness couldn’t the Prime Minister receive
the women’s deputation same as any other? The brunt of the whole
business falls on us, and it’s the beastliest job we’ve ever had.”
Then he added, “The prisoners are here now, in the cells, would you
like to see them?” I felt almost overwhelmed that so unworthy and
half-hearted a follower as myself should be the one to have this
grand opportunity, but, of course, I availed myself of it without a
moment’s hesitation. I was shown through a series of passages and up
a flight of stairs, where a wardress was in charge. This October day
was damp and foggy with the first sense of autumn chill, but as I was
led on towards the cells the atmosphere became perceptibly damper and
colder at every step, as in a vault. I realised for the first time
the actual meaning of the word “puanteur,” which haunts the pages of
Dostoievsky’s account of his imprisonments, the smell, as it were, of
deadness pervading, I should imagine, every building, however cleanly
washed, which is built and used to incarcerate human beings solely for
punitive purposes. I had never seen Mrs. Pankhurst except on a public
platform at moments when she was surrounded by public enthusiasm and
personal devotion, such as are rarely accorded even to great leaders.
My critical faculty is easily aroused by success, and although I
recognised the single-mindedness of her aims, the uprightness of her
character, the vigour of her intellect and convincing oratorical
gifts, the charm of her personality and, above all, the magnificent
power of her leadership, yet I had hitherto not felt drawn to this
remarkable woman. It was with no sense of hero-worship that in reply
to the wardress’ friendly question, “Which of the ladies do you wish
to see?” I answered, “Mrs. Pankhurst.” She went to a cell door, many
of which lined one side of a passage as the horse-boxes of a stable,
and drew aside the shutter of a small grating. I looked through into
a land of animal’s den, dimly lit and furnished only with a bare
wooden bench running along the side of the wall, and terminating
in a sanitary convenience. Standing erect as she moved towards the
grating, was a woman whose appearance struck awe into every fibre of
my being. A splendour of defiance and indignation pervaded her face,
yet she was controlled and her attitude conveyed no suggestion of
personal grievance. From that moment I recognised in her, and I have
held the vision undimmed ever since, the guardian protector of this
amazing woman’s movement, conscious not only of the thousands who
follow her lead to-day, but of the martyred generations of the past
and of the women of the future whose welfare depends upon the path
hewn out for them to-day. I seemed to grasp prophetically and all at
once the characteristic qualities which I learnt later on by closer
observation and experience. I saw that the quality of sternness, which
presented so unyielding a front to every opponent and every obstacle,
drew its force from deep fountains of understanding, of sympathy and
of love. While she most perfectly fulfilled her mission of pioneer,
and shirked none of the responsibilities accruing to the lead, yet the
efficiency and glamour attending the fulfilment of that mission were
due to her recognition of the elements behind her, as an arrow-head
derives its force from the construction of the whole weapon. The
seemingly miraculous power of leadership with which the controllers
of this militant movement are gifted is due to the fact that they too
are fellow servants of a cause which they recognise is of infinitely
greater importance than themselves or any other individual, they share
with the humblest member of the rank and file the sense of loyalty and
bond-allegiance to a common ideal--the welfare of women throughout the
world.
FOOTNOTE: [1] Afterwards Lord Gladstone.
I was advised by Mrs. Pankhurst how to turn my services to the best
account and not to mind about the 1st Division, as they themselves
could plead it in court, but to get them released for that night
or they would not be able to plead properly, from fatigue. After a
fruitless search of some hours for the magistrate in the wilds of West
Kensington and a return to the office at Clement’s Inn for further
instructions, I at last ran my quarry to ground somewhere near Olympia.
The magistrate, Mr. Curtis Bennett,[2] received me courteously, but
his face promptly assumed an official-defensive expression on learning
my quest. If I had come to ask him about the trial next day he must
request me not to proceed, since he must keep his mind unbiassed. I
explained that I was altogether new to the rules of the game which
he had at his fingers’ ends. That, as I was ignorant which questions
I might or might not put to him, it would be best for me to unburden
myself and for him to select which of my demands he could answer.
He saw the reason of this and kindly consented to the arrangement.
In reply, he could make no statement as to which Division he would
sentence the prisoners, nor could they be let out on bail that night,
because of the late hour at which they had responded to the summonses.
As to taking them food and bedding, that was a matter for the police to
decide, it was beyond his jurisdiction. I was thankful to hear this,
knowing that the police were not likely to offer objections when
matters were left solely to their care. I went back to Mrs. Pethick
Lawrence, and in a few minutes we had taken bedding and rugs and were
off to the police station at Bow Street. We found that a Member of
Parliament, Mr. James Murray, had visited our friends and ordered
everything they wanted from an hotel, making them as comfortable as
possible for the night.
FOOTNOTE: [2] Afterwards Sir Curtis Bennett, who since died in 1913.
The next day their trial took place. After the evidence of the police
had been taken, Christabel Pankhurst asked for an adjournment, in
order to take legal advice and to prepare a defence. This was granted
for one week. During the interval, Christabel secured the attendance
of Mr. Lloyd George, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and of Mr. Herbert
Gladstone, Home Secretary, as witnesses for the defence. The adjourned
hearing of the case on October 21 lasted from 10.30 to 7.30 at night,
with only two short intervals. The trial was immensely impressive, the
three figures stood up at different times, and it was obvious to all
who listened to the case that they were fighting against evil and were
in all things most essentially good, so that one was awed by them.
When the two members of the Cabinet gave evidence, the futility of the
part they played was most obvious and they presented an appearance
that was petty and contemptible to the last degree. There were a great
many other witnesses, of whom I was one, in support of the contention
that the crowd on the evening of October 13 was an orderly one, and
that no violence was done. At 7.30 Christabel Pankhurst said she had
still fifty witnesses to call, and the case was adjourned to Saturday,
October 24. It was owing to Mrs. Pankhurst’s speech on this occasion
that I felt taken hold of by the movement. Every sentence of it seemed
to be true, dignified, strong, entirely respectful. This passage I more
especially remember: “You know that women have tried to do something to
come to the aid of their own sex.... I was in the hospital at Holloway,
and when I was there I heard from one of the beds near me the moans
of a woman who was in the pangs of childbirth. I should like you to
realise how women feel at helpless little infants breathing their first
breath in the atmosphere of a prison. We believe that if we get the
vote we will find some more humane way of dealing with women than that.”
Mrs. Drummond made me feel faith in the woman’s movement, her type was
most lovable, full of daring for the enemies of woman, full of patience
in working for them, full of the most noble kind of humility in her
reverence for them.
Christabel Pankhurst was the sunrise of the woman’s movement, I cannot
describe her in any other way. The glow of her great vitality and
the joy of her being took hold of the movement and made it gladness.
Yet, her nature being so essentially a woman’s, there was a vein
of tenderness throughout her speech, and her strength lay in her
steadfast, resourceful and brilliant intellect.
With the exception of declining to give a pledge to keep the peace for
twelve months, a pledge which these women were quite unable to accept,
they had been guilty of no offence. Mrs. Pankhurst and Mrs. Drummond
were each sentenced to three months’ imprisonment, and Christabel
Pankhurst to ten weeks’ (two and a half months) imprisonment. It was
like darkness when these three were in prison. Mrs. Pethick Lawrence
and Sylvia Pankhurst, Christabel’s sister, kept the weekly meetings
going at the Queen’s Hall in a splendid way. Sylvia is an artist by
profession and an artist at heart, but whenever the women’s movement
wants her she is there for its bidding. She looked all that is most
modest and humble, but speaking seemed to come as a second nature to
her as to everyone of the Pankhursts, and at times I could not have
believed, but for having heard and seen, the splendid political speech
which came from that young girl. During this time I lived in the
country and seldom came to London. I needed no converting now and my
only wish was to convince my mother.