HOLLOWAY REVISITED: MY FOURTH IMPRISONMENT
I determined that I would do my work alone. I was afraid that, if
I combined with others, I might fail them, through illness, when
they counted on me. Some days later Miss Lawless said she would come
too, and, as she kindly chose to do the job with me, all was well. I
selected a post office window in Victoria Street, on the left-hand
side, facing Westminster. I went to buy some stamps there the day
before to make sure of my bearings. I studied all the windows where it
would be safe, and where not safe, to do the work of smashing without
hurting anyone inside.
A friend, Mrs. MacLeod, came to see me the evening before, November
20, 1911. She brought me flowers, lovely lilies-of-the-valley and two
bunches of violets. She told me she had bought them in Piccadilly from
a girl that was sitting round the fountain. “They are for a friend of
mine who is going to fight for the women to-morrow”; she wasn’t sure
she had said it in a way the girl could understand. “Oh! May God bless
her, God bless them all! Here, lady, take this extra bunch of violets
for her.” She called this out enthusiastically, as she collected the
flowers.
This time I had a small hammer as well as three stones wrapped in
paper. The hammer, of course, was the safest as well as the most
efficient of my tools, but one had to be quite near to the window in
order to use it. Another dear friend, Dr. Alice Ker, came to me from
Liverpool on the day, Tuesday, November 21. She was coming to the fray
in Westminster, but she did not wish to get arrested. Towards six
o’clock we took a taxi and went together to the beginning of Victoria
Street. Then we got out and each went our own way. I walked up and down
the street, first along one side, then along the other, and I inspected
the side parallel streets. Victoria Street I had always supposed was
rather a long one, but on this occasion it was infinitely short, and
I seemed to pass the same people over and over again. Once I jumped
into a ’bus to go up again towards Westminster, and there I came across
many of my friends, who doubtless were going to the preliminary meeting
at Caxton Hall. At last when standing, as it seemed to me, for the
fiftieth time in front of a door with pillars, which was our trysting
place, I met Miss Lawless and soon after Miss Douglas Smith, who had
said she would join us for a little, as she had to go to all who were
“active” in Victoria Street. We turned into a “Lyons” for some tea, the
whole place was full of our friends and a detective or two. A cat was
there; she came to lie on my lap and I had to turn her off when we left.
The time was getting near; we were to wait until the clock struck 8; we
were none of us to move before and not much later. At last there was a
noise of many people coming round the corner of a street; it was Mrs.
Pethick Lawrence walking at the head of her Deputation. A large crowd
surrounded them and cheered them on their way to Westminster. Miss
Lawless and I had taken up our position already on the steps leading
to the post office we had selected. As soon as the Deputation had
passed, the clock of Big Ben began striking eight. I said, “I can wait
no longer,” and I turned and smashed the glass of two doors and one
window. I raised my arms and did it deliberately, so that every one in
the street could see. Miss Lawless smashed the windows to my right. We
were going down the steps and I was afraid no policemen had been near,
when two came from over the way. All was peaceable and friendly. My
policeman said to me with a smile, “I’ll take you this way, lady, see?
And that won’t inconvenience you.” With that he adjusted his grasp at
my elbow. I said to him: “Unless you are obliged, don’t hurry your pace
more than you can help,” and he walked at my pace through Westminster
to Cannon Row. He also disarmed me, taking my hammer. In Westminster
the crowd was immense and at the bottom of Whitehall, but we got
through all right, and Miss Lawless kept close behind me.
Cannon Row was already crowded with women. We stood in a closely packed
ring to give our names, and afterwards our names were called out before
we went upstairs. To my surprise and great delight Lady Sybil Smith
was there. I knew she herself had been wishing to go on a deputation
for some time. We were taken into the cells to be searched, but this
was not the grim business that it sounds. We were left to walk quite
by ourselves; a policeman showed us in and we were put four or five
together in a cell. The door was left open, and a wardress asked
respectfully if she might search us. We said, “Yes, most certainly,”
and began to deliver up our stones. The wardress’s face was all
kindness, and no sooner had the policeman gone away from the door than
she burst out with: “Oh! you ladies, I’d be with you to-morrow if
it weren’t for my child. I am a widow with one child. If only these
politicians knew what that meant! They can talk fine about the widow,
but when it comes to her earning a livelihood they don’t help her.” It
seemed wonderful, she understood. Meanwhile she was picking out the
stones from our pockets. We were allowed to go back to the central
room as soon as it was finished, we left a friend behind us in the
wardress. Upstairs, in the policemen’s billiard room, we sat in crowds,
and everything was noticeably different from last time. All was joy and
triumph, and there seemed the echo of these from the street. I felt
quite an old hand, and was going about the room collecting telegrams;
I had bought a packet of forms on the chance. A policeman was singled
out and stood waiting for them in a meek and respectful attitude. One
woman, who looked about sixty or sixty-five, had written a telegram but
had put no signature; I asked if there was to be none. She hesitated
for a moment and then added: “Well--put Mother.” I thought it must
be rather trying when it was a “daughter,” but much more when it was
a “mother,” and she getting on in years. There was a girl lying down
in the window recess where I had gone with my cough last time; she
was ashy pale. I went up to her and asked her if she felt ill. Her
face immediately lit up with a radiant smile--“I’m not ill now, but
I have been for three months.” I said how wonderful was the feeling
of the movement, as one realised the difference which a year had made
it was impossible that one should feel depressed, though one might be
depressed for oneself. “No,” she said, “I am never depressed now.” Had
she a mother? “Oh! mother would be here too, only she is a cripple.”
Mrs. Pethick Lawrence had come and was given a great cheer. She
looked well and beamingly happy. The Deputation had been much more
hustled about than we who had done damage, but still, there was no
real roughness that I could hear of, and they had been arrested
comparatively quickly. Mr. Lawrence’s welcome face came and he bailed
us out, though it was a long business this time. When we drove away,
every window in Whitehall bore the mark of the women upon it, with the
unmistakable smashing, till it looked, as I passed, as though every
window smiled.
On Wednesday, November 22, I sent off a telegram, saying that I was
arrested, to our organiser at Liverpool for a meeting at which I was
going to speak. It was a joint meeting of W.S.P.U., National Unionist
and Conservative Suffragists; Lord Selborne was to speak for the
Conservatives. It had been arranged when we were at peace with the
Government; that peace was now at an end. I then went to Bow Street.
There were crowds of women; we each took luggage and wraps, for under
Mr. Winston Churchill’s new rule we were allowed to wear our own
day and night clothes, and not obliged to have prison food. There
was no difference in being allowed to see visitors or have letters.
Books not dealing with current events were allowed, but one could not
take them out of prison. At Bow Street we were put into the big room
upstairs; again a policemen’s billiard room. Large as it was, it was
very crowded, and I kept my seat on my luggage in the passage outside.
Amongst others, there was a little American woman, whose husband stuck
by her like a man till he should be separated by imprisonment. They had
been in India, had heard much there about the Suffragettes, and one
lady with whom they had dined had warned him against his wife becoming
one of them. I saw there two Hertfordshire members, which did my
heart good, when I remembered that a little time ago the whole county
was asleep. Whenever I was able, I sat back on my luggage and wrote
letters; it was the only way I could escape from talking to everyone,
which was most delightful but I was very tired. We waited all day to
learn in the evening that we must return to-morrow. I went to my mother
from Bow Street who was staying in London at that time.
Three times this autumn, after making a speech, I had been taken with
heart-seizure and incapacitated for about a quarter of an hour. On
Thursday morning, November 23, I was ill, on waking, with a heart
collapse. In spite of my best efforts, I could scarcely hold up my head
or speak. Mrs. Francis Smith, one of my dearest friends, had come to my
rooms to see how I was, and she determined to call at Bow Street and
find out for me if I could not put off going there till the afternoon.
She came back, saying that she had had an interview with Inspector
A----, who had already shown great kindness to me, and he had said I
was not to trouble about the morning, that it would do quite well if
I came in the afternoon. I lay down on my bed till nearly 2 o’clock,
when I felt much better. Then I went to Bow Street. The woman who did
my room came with me and carried my luggage; she also fetched me milk
into the police station. She knew several of the policeman personally,
so she managed everything very easily. I went on a deputation with Mrs.
Haverfield and Mrs. Mansell-Moulin to Inspector A----, to say that
unless the women could be told on leaving whether they would be wanted
the next day, they would not go away. As this meant finding cells for
all of us--we were 220 women in all--probably we should have to be put
four or five in a cell together; it was speedily arranged and we were
told that night when we should be wanted; I was one of those who came
the following day. I went again that evening to my mother.
The next morning, Friday, November 24, I woke all right and went to
Bow Street quite happily. Before our trial we were taken down into the
passage next the police court, and put _vis-à-vis_ to the policemen who
had arrested us, as at my first trial. The magistrate was Sir Albert
de Rutzen, who was too old for his work. Miss Lawless was accused
with me. The hammers and stones were shown in witness against us, and
the damage estimated at £3 15_s_. Mr. Muskett, the prosecutor, in
totalling up my record, mentioned that I had been to Holloway after a
deputation to the House of Commons, and in Newcastle I was imprisoned
for throwing a stone at a motor car, but he did not mention “Jane
Warton” at Liverpool. When I reminded him that he had left her out,
he said testily, “Well, I’m very glad if I have.” I said it was quite
true that I used a hammer and stones to break windows. I realised that
this was the only effective means of protest left to us by a Government
which boasts of Liberalism and representation where men are concerned,
but ignores the elementary principles of representation where women are
concerned. Votes and riot are the only form of appeal to which this
Government will respond. They refuse us votes, we fall back on riot.
The wrongs they inflict on women are intolerable, and we will no longer
tolerate them---- Here the magistrate interrupted me; he could not
enter into a discussion on the subject, and referred to the fact that
Mr. Asquith had received a deputation last Friday. I said, “I heard Mr.
Asquith say he would do nothing in regard to women.” The magistrate
then advocated peaceful agitation. I answered that this Government
have said they will do absolutely nothing as a Government, and Mr.
Asquith is exactly where he was in 1908; all our peaceful agitation
has been valueless in his eyes. I said that although we committed the
acts alleged, we were not guilty of crime, our conduct being fully
justified by the circumstances of the case. “I appeal to you, Sir, to
vindicate the fundamental laws of liberty which our country has revered
for generations,” and with that I concluded. Miss Leslie Lawless said
that if to fight for one’s liberty was a crime, she was guilty, but she
pleaded not guilty, as that was the only protest that this Government
understood. Our sentence was one of a fine of 40_s._ and 37_s._ 6_d._
damage each, or fourteen days’ imprisonment--half the sentence that
I had received when I went to the House of Commons, doing absolutely
nothing and being mauled by the police.
We were not put into the cells, but again taken upstairs to a room
close to the larger one. There was my friend, Adela Smith, with Olive
Schreiner’s friend, Mrs. Purcell, and Mrs. Tudor, of St. Albans. All
these were not among the condemned, but had been let in to see their
friends. Towards half-past five Inspector A---- came and told me that
presently a taxi would be round to take me to Holloway, that there
would be a policeman inside, but that the other two could be any
“fellow criminals” I liked. I at once chose Mrs. Leigh, who had been
condemned to two months’ imprisonment, though she was said only to have
struck a policeman in defence of another woman. I was immensely proud
to take her with me. I also chose Miss Lawless. The policeman was in
plain clothes and very amiable. Miss Lawless discovered that she had
left her purse behind. We went back for it, and, on arriving at Bow
Street, I decided that the constable should get out with Miss Lawless,
put her in charge of another policeman, then return and mount guard on
us. He was delighted to do this. From the point of view of our safety,
of course, nothing could have been more absurd; we were not in the
courtyard of the police-station, and nothing would have been easier
than to open the door the other side of the pavement and, with the
noise of the street, Mrs. Leigh or I could have escaped. But it was
understood all round that this was not the game, and we waited quietly
for the policeman to return and, finally, Miss Lawless and the purse.
At Holloway all was civility; it was unrecognisable from the first time
I had been there. There were no reception cells for us, but we were
taken at once to our separate cells in D X, where, after a time the
Matron, and afterwards the doctor came to see us. Nothing could have
been more charming than the Matron--another woman than had been there
before. She asked me at once after Miss Davison; was she coming this
time? The Matron had been at Manchester when the hose-pipe had been
played on her. This she asked before two wardresses, and in a voice
of sympathetic intonation. I said I did not think she was coming this
time, but it would not be long probably before she was in prison again.
Then came Dr. Sullivan. His manner was kind, as it had always been,
but I no longer felt the same towards him since he had fed some of the
prisoners by force. He said at once, after testing my heart, that I
could not stay there, but must go at once to hospital. I said I was
much more comfortable where I was than in the general ward, and that
I could not sleep there. He said he meant to put me in a cell apart.
I was then moved over to the hospital side. There on the ground floor
was the superintendent officer I had known before. I smiled, but she
looked as if she did not recognise me. She went with me upstairs. “I
believe,” I said, as she opened a door, “it is the very same cell I had
before.” “No,” she answered, “the one next door,” and her reserve, to
my great delight, broke down. I unpacked my flannel sheets, my flannel
nightgown, and my long bed-socks, and made myself ready for the night.
It was almost unbelievable to have so much comfort in a place which
before had been the very acme of discomfort. They brought me a pint mug
of milk and a small white loaf before the night. It was about eight
o’clock by the time I got to bed, but the hours, I supposed, were the
same as they had been in Holloway before, and besides, I was dead tired.
The next day, Saturday, November 25, I felt ill in the morning. The
prison was scarce of food--at least, there were no vegetables; they
gave me bread and butter and a pudding for luncheon. The Governor came,
Dr. Scott, and he was amiability itself, I was only to take care of
myself. Since all was made easy, I stayed in bed that day.
The girl who was let in to wash my floor was fair-haired, with a most
pleasant and intelligent face. I longed to know about her, but a
wardress stood at the door looking on at her work all the time, and I
did not once catch her eye. On Sunday, November 26, I felt no better
and again stayed in bed. The second doctor, a new man, who was pleasant
in his manner, came to see me. In the morning when I had been let out
to the sink, the little prisoner who washed my floor met me coming out.
My back was turned for a moment; she patted my shoulder and said, in a
tone of voice of utmost comfort, “Cheer up!” By the time I looked round
she was off somewhere else and no one would have supposed that she had
communicated with me. After that I was determined to get some snatch
conversation with her when she was in my cell. When she washed out that
morning, I said to her--it was always the first thing--“How long have
you got?” “Three years,” was the answer. This greatly surprised me,
for Holloway was not the place for long sentences, but I could not ask
her then, there was not time to tell, only time for bare questions and
answers. I asked, “What was it for?” “Stealing my mother’s skirt,” she
said. This was more startling than ever. Where was the mother’s skirt
one could “steal”? But the wardress looked in and we were obliged to
stop. On another occasion she told me that she had been very ill on
first coming to Holloway, and that was why she had been kept there.
Another time she slipped this notice under the door, and signalled to
me by opening the gas-jet glass from the passage. On one side of the
little torn bit of paper was written, “Z-- A--, Boardstil Institution,
Hailsbray”; on the other side, “I shall be glad to hear from you
because I have no friends at all and it will cheer me up.” I longed to
speak to her, but I did not see her again after this. It was my last
morning in prison when she put this paper under the door. After I came
out I, of course, wrote to her, thanked her for her cheering words to
me, asked if I might go and see her, and sent her a little 3_d._ book
of extracts from my father’s poems. I sent these to the chaplain at
Aylesbury and asked him if he would deliver them. He sent my letter
back, saying that he would not be allowed to give it, for she had
already chosen as her correspondent her grandmother or some old lady.
I do not know anything of her, of her failings or virtues; I only know
that there was no loosening the net that clung round her so tightly for
three years.
On Sunday, November 26, in the afternoon I went out to exercise. This
was indeed a changed world. All of us assembled were walking about
arm in arm, as we liked, in rows facing each other, or round the
ground; some of us went apart in a little side-walk, all talking to
one another, and all, of course, wearing our own clothes. One or two
wardresses were there, but they were smiling all the time and chatted
with us. One of them asked me why I had not come to visit Holloway. I
told her that they would not allow “criminals” to come back except as
prisoners, that I had tried in vain. She said I could come as someone
who visited the cooking places, or something of that kind. I was afraid
I was too well known in Holloway, as I had paid rather frequent visits
to the Governor. I saw and walked with Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, arm in
arm, and nothing that we did caused any disturbance.
On Monday, November 27, I stayed in bed again, and at about 11 o’clock
the doctor came and offered me vegetable soup from outside, and massage
from my masseur-doctor, Mr. May. I said surely that would not be
allowed! He told me that of course in the ordinary course of things it
was not allowed, but, if I wished for it, he would see what he could
do. I refused all these offers, which were not, so far as I knew,
offered to the others. I heard after my release, how my dear friends
had put themselves about to get me all these things, and how my servant
had brought soup to the prison every day, which she had made. I had
a tin of biscuits sent in to me and some orange sweets. As I was not
feeling well, I was unable to eat these, but I managed to give a good
many to the girls who washed my cell. I only once got a look into the
general ward. I saw Mrs. Mansell-Moullin, Mrs. Mansel and others, but
it did not seem to be the thing for the prisoners from the cells to
go into the general ward. That night Mrs. Mansel came in to see me
from there. She and some others were to be released the next day. She
had suffered from influenza and had a bad time of it while she was in
prison. We had a long talk, and she gave me _The Man-made World_, by
Charlotte Perkins Gilman, to read, as a wonderful book that had just
come out. She was not allowed to take it out with her. The publisher,
Mr. Fisher Unwin, had kindly sent me the book, but I had not yet had
time to read it. I read it that night and found it all that she had
said--a most remarkable book. It is dedicated to a man, showing that
the woman’s movement has in it nothing, as is sometimes supposed,
against men, but only against the vices of some men. In a chapter
called “Crime and Punishment,” this passage struck me with intense
truth: “Does a child offend? Punish it! Does a woman offend? Punish
her! Does a man offend? Punish him! Does a group offend? Punish them!
‘What for?’ someone suddenly asks. ‘To make them stop doing it!’ ‘But
they have done it.’ ‘To make them not do it again, then.’ ‘But they do
it again and worse.’ ‘To prevent other people’s doing it, then.’ But it
does not prevent them--the crime keeps on. What good is your punishment
to crime? Its base, its prehistoric base, is simply retaliation.”
On Tuesday, November 28, I felt much better and went out to exercise in
the morning. While there I was summoned to see the Governor. He told
me that my fine had been paid anonymously and that I was free. Among
my friends there is none that I can think of who would have paid my
fine; my state of health, I suppose, after the forcible feeding, was
“dangerous,” and it was thought safest to pay the fine “officially.”
To my great surprise, the superintendent came with me to my flat.
She was very dear but quite “official.” As I had packed up my things
rather quickly, I felt ill and not inclined to talk much. She told me
how very overworked the superintendent officers had been with the 220
Suffragette prisoners there were this time, she herself sometimes not
getting to bed till one or two in the morning. She looked very tired
and I felt very sorry for her. It seemed hard that, when they made us
prisoners, so much extra work should fall upon the wardresses. When
we reached the Duke’s Road, I did not like to ask her into my rooms,
not knowing who would be there, so I said good-bye to her, kissed her,
and begged her to take back the taxi at my expense. This, however, she
refused to do; she preferred to go home by omnibus, and we parted at
the front door. I went upstairs and found three of my friends. We were
delighted to see each other, but they soon went away, and I rolled
wearily into bed.
I frequently had to lie up during the winter and spring months
that followed. On May 5, 1912, I had a stroke and my right arm was
paralysed; also, slightly, my right foot and leg. I was taken from my
flat to my sister Emily Lutyen’s house, and for many long months she
and my mother and Dr. Marion Vaughan were kindness itself to me. From
that day to this I have been incapacited for working for the Women’s
Social and Political Union, but I am with them still with my whole soul.
And what is this which yet comes to us from the prisons? The torture
of the “Cat-and-Mouse” Act and of forcible feeding! Oh! if only
people could know what these things signify! But surely they must
understand that they are barbarous practices such as we have not
tolerated for long in our prisons. “Cat-and-Mouse” Act--what does it
mean? The prisoner does not eat or drink, nothing to pass the lips;
it may be three days, it may be a week, it may be nine days. Then the
prisoner is let out, watched day and night, and taken back to prison,
back to hunger and thirst, till she is again at death’s door. This
they do twice, three times, four times, five times, till life is all
but out. Not yet have the Government admitted that they will stop
the “Cat-and-Mouse” torture short of death itself. And the forcible
feeding--what is that? The only possible excuse for it is that it
prolongs the prisoner’s sentence by so many days, so many weeks, and
that is all. But heed what it is. I have described it exactly as it
was done to me. See what it has meant in the recent case of Mary
Richardson. It took eight wardresses and one man to overcome her. On
two occasions it was said: “Twist her arms--the only way to unlock
them.” They held her feet by pressing in the hollow of her ankles.
Occasionally the doctor pressed her in the chest to hold her down. He
announced that he was going to use the stomach tube. As he could not
get through her teeth, he put his fingers to the extremity of her jaw,
and with his finger-nail deliberately cut her gum and cheek until her
mouth was bleeding badly. He then inserted the gag and stomach tube,
but she was so choked by the process that he stopped the feeding, and
said he would return to the nasal tube. This is inhuman, like the
feeding of a beast--no, of an insentient thing. Where is the gain?
A week or several weeks more of imprisonment, and you have let in
torture to our form of punishment; yes, and repeated torture, for these
prisoners are let out by the “Cat-and-Mouse” Act, and, on those ghastly
terms, the police will mount guard on them to seize them again if,
according to their judgment, they have regained sufficient fitness.
And why are these women imprisoned? Because they and many thousands, or
rather several millions, of women with them, have asked for the vote,
but the Government would not give it to them. For forty-five years
women have supported their demand in Parliament for enfranchisement
with ever increasing vigour. Petitions, processions, meetings and
resolutions all over the country were infinitely greater in number
than have been achieved for any other reform. When the Conciliation
Bill was framed, women waited to see what the Government would do for
them; the vote on the second reading of the Bill, for the second time,
was immense. Women listened to the pledges of the Government and they
seemed to hold out a certainty of the vote. Now, when these promises
have all been broken, women have taken to burning empty houses, railway
stations and stacks, though they have respected life and refrained from
wounding, as men would do for far less a cause. Yes, and they will burn
buildings until they are treated rationally as an equal part of the
human race.
I hear the cry go up from all parts of the country, “How long? How
long?” The time is fully ripe, when will women be represented in
Parliament by the vote, equally with men?
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.
SOME PRESS OPINIONS
“The author has written her book with a broadness of sympathy that
adds dignity and conviction to a document of commendable frankness.
It should serve as a presage of hope and reform for those who suffer
by our present penal system; it also sheds much needed light on the
hidebound officialism that is responsible for what Lady Constance
Lytton has experienced and portrayed. This is, perhaps, the first time
that the inequalities of treatment meted out to the rich and poor has
been so clearly expressed in book form.”
--_Athenæum._
“It is the clever and eloquent plea of a remarkable woman.”
--_Pall Mall Gazette._
“_A deeply impressive work_ ... holds the attention from the first,
and leaves an impression that is likely to prove indelible ... it
is impossible to read this narrative without being struck by the
sustained heroism that has been exhibited.”
--_Daily Telegraph._
“This sincere and illuminating book ... an extremely fine and
sensitive study of an English lady.”
--_Westminster Gazette._
“A very moving and remarkable addition to the literature of the
prison.... This unpretending and generous volume is likely to be one
of the classic books of reference in regard to the sufferings of the
revolutionary woman.”
--_Daily News._
“One of the most fascinating books you ever read.”
--_Manchester Courier._
“Her story is certainly impressive. As a piece of literature it is
admirable, and as a contribution to our knowledge of what prison life
is and of what its effect upon the individual may be it is important
and valuable.”
--_Liverpool Daily Post._
“Its direct and immediate appeal extends far beyond the confine of
any movement, however significant and great. It is a story for all
sorts and all conditions of women and men, irrespective of individual
differences in matters of political and social faith.”
--_Votes for Women._
“Constance Lytton is an incarnation of the Christ spirit, if ever
there was one. The story of her deeds--the motive that inspired
them--is worthy of being enshrined in the Sacred Books of the
race.”
--_Christian Commonwealth._
“... not politics but psychology, and a fluent and brilliant
exposition it is.”
--_Observer._
“... life itself, facts lived and suffered within the past year
or two, an autobiography written with the tears and blood of a
woman.... Her book is a tragic document which leaves a man sad and
wondering.”
--_Graphic._
A LIST OF
CURRENT FICTION
PUBLISHED BY
WILLIAM HEINEMANN
AT 21 BEDFORD ST., LONDON, W.C.
[Illustration: W H (Publisher’s logo)]
MR HEINEMANN will always be pleased to send periodically particulars
of his forthcoming publications to any reader who desires them. In
applying please state whether you are interested in works of Fiction,
Memoirs, History, Art, Science, etc.
THE DARK FLOWER
by JOHN GALSWORTHY
“Human emotion at the intensity that is begotten of
conflict insoluble, and not merely of satiable and sated
aspiration, is, at least, the novelist’s pre-occupation
in this volume. And, like the old tragedians, he stands
apart from his grim rendering of life, drawing no moral
save that of pity and terror.... One need scarcely say
that with this novel Mr. Galsworthy has added another to
his series of powerful, vivid, and sincere studies of
human nature. His characters stand out with the firmness
of life.”
--_Daily Telegraph._
Author of
MAN OF PROPERTY
THE ISLAND PHARISEES
THE PATRICIAN
A MOTLEY
COUNTRY HOUSE
FRATERNITY
THE INN OF TRANQUILITY
MOODS, SONGS & DOGGERELS
MARRYING OF HESTER RAINSBROOK
by J. A. REVERMORT
“This novel is permeated not only by real culture, but
by genuine insight into character, and the romance of
‘Hester Rainsbrook’ with the man whose dark background
she redeems is well worth reading. The minor characters,
too, stand out in excellent perspective.”
--_T.P.’s Weekly._
THE PERFECT WIFE
by JOSEPH KEATING
“It is all written in the gayest, happiest spirit
of light comedy ... the whole thing is cleverly and
entertainingly done ... the story holds you interested
and amused throughout.”
--_The Bookman._
“It is a pure comedy ... it makes excellent and
exciting and humorous reading. There is plenty of good
character-drawing to boot, and the writing is simple and
effective and often witty.... Mr. Keating has written a
very entertaining story, and we are grateful to him.”
--_Daily Chronicle._
THE MILKY WAY
by F. TENNYSON JESSE
“A light-hearted medley, the spirit and picturesqueness
of which the author cleverly keeps alive to the last
act.”
--_Times Literary Supplement._
“A book of youth and high spirits! That is the
definition of this altogether delightful ‘Milky Way’ ...
this wholly enchanting ‘Viv,’ her entourage ... as gay
and irresponsible as herself.... Miss Tennyson Jesse has
great gifts; skill and insight, candour, enthusiasm, and
a pleasant way of taking her readers into her confidence
... the final impression is that she enjoyed writing her
book just as much as this reviewer has enjoyed reading
it.”
--_Daily Mail._
INDISCRETIONS OF DR. CARSTAIRS
by A. de O.
“The art of the short story is a rare one, and A. de
O. not only possesses it in a general way, but adds to
it what seems to be the skill of a specialist in the
treatment of the professional motive inspiring all his
tales ... he is undeniably entertaining.”
--_Observer._
DIANA AND TWO SYMPHONIES
by FRANCIS TOYE
“There is much in this novel that goes crash
through sentimentalism, and there is some excellent
characterisation ... the whole breathes such a clear
desentimentalised air that it is invigorating.”
--_Daily News and Leader._
“The hose of common sense is turned on the persisting
remnants of the romance of Bohemianism.... The book
gives us the contrast between the trivial round of
‘respectable’ society and life among the intellectuals.”
--_Morning Post._
GOSLINGS
by J. D. BERESFORD
6/-
Author of “Joseph Stahl,” “A Candidate for Truth.”
“Many of the scenes of his book will live long in the
imagination. The book is packed with such striking
episodes, which purge the intellect, if not always the
soul, with pity and terror and wonder. Mr. Beresford
has, in fact, proved once again that, even if he may
appear somewhat unsympathetic on the emotional side, he
has an intellectual grasp as strong and as sure as that
of any living novelist.”
--_Morning Post._
“It is a wild and airy fantasy, and it embodies some
uncommonly grim home truths. A book of whose success it
is hardly possible to feel uncertain, unless the public
have lost all palate for a tale that can make them
thrill and make them think.”
--_Observer._
GROWING PAINS
by IVY LOW
(2nd Impression)
6/-
“It is a clever study of a modern young woman that Miss
Ivy Low has written, clever in its frank presentation
of the thoughts and actions of a somewhat over
self-conscious girl who wishes to find her place in the
world and fumbles and blunders in the seeking.”
--_Daily Telegraph._
THE AMBASSADRESS
by WILLIAM WRIOTHESLEY
6/-
“‘The Ambassadress,’ among many good and brilliant
points, has the supreme merit of knowing what it talks
about. It is the ‘_vie intime_’ itself of a brilliant
côterie. The play and interplay of the different
nationalities, the way in which their German background
affects them all, the little incidental scandals and
piquancies, the thumb-nail portraits of pretty, restless
women and blasé cynical men, with the sprinkling of
the strong and the sincere which is the salt of all
such brews; the beautiful natures of Alexa and of her
wonderful stepmother; the impression of the Wagner
opera, and the sudden plunge into the depths below the
music, which show that Mr. Wriothesley has some of the
gift of vision as well as observation; all these things
make the book a vivid and uncommon one that can hardly
fail to claim attention.”
--_Evening Standard._
THE SIXTY-FIRST SECOND
by OWEN JOHNSON
6/-
“What an excellent title, and what an excellent story is
so named!”
--_Evening News._
“The plot of the novel is ingenious, and the love
affair--though really a side issue--is conducted on
lines that are refreshingly original.”
--_Yorkshire Post._
THE KINGDOM
by HAROLD GOAD
6/-
“Its style and its fine handling will commend it to
the judicious, especially as, despite the knowledge it
displays of the monastic life of to-day and its insight
into the mystical temper, it reveals no bias other than
the artist’s sympathy with the struggles of a human
soul.”
--_The Times._
“The book is excellently written and is a clever study
of a man’s spiritual life.”
--_Daily Graphic._
JAMES HURD
by R. O. PROWSE
6/-
“Thoughtful, able and interesting novel. The story
cannot but enhance its author’s reputation.”
--_Scotsman._
GUTTER BABIES
by DOROTHEA SLADE
6/-
“She has brought from the heart of the slums some of
the most delicately pathetic and most quaintly humorous
stories that have ever been published. The gutter babies
really live and play and work and die in her delightful
realistic book, and one feels at the end as closely akin
to those small, wild people of the back streets and
alleys, as if one had stolen a little of Miss Slade’s
deep understanding and tender sympathy.
“An altogether pleasing and attractive book.”
--_Bookman._
A BAND OF BROTHERS
by CHARLES TURLEY
“The plot of ‘A Band of Brothers’ is not only excellent,
but quite original.... Mr. Turley’s book, though as
a story it will give abundant pleasure to juniors,
will appeal with even greater effect to parents and
guardians.”
--_Spectator._
“Mr. Turley has a greater gift for interpreting the mind
of the school boy and for envisaging his conditions,
than any living writer. We are inclined, after reading
‘A Band of Brothers,’ to say that he is our greatest
writer of school stories, not excluding Thomas Hughes.”
--_Pall Mall Gazette._
LU OF THE RANGES
by ELEANOR MORDAUNT
6/-
Author of “The Cost of It.”
“Miss Eleanor Mordaunt has the art, not only of
visualizing scenes with such imminent force that the
reader feels the shock of reality, but of sensating the
emotions she describes. A finely written book, full of
strong situations.”
--_Everyman._
VIRGINIA
by ELLEN GLASGOW
(2nd Impression)
6/-
Author of “Phases of an Inferior Planet.”
“From beginning to end the book is alive with absorbing
interest, and all the characters are convincing in their
realism. A sure touch is manifested throughout. It is
a striking work in style, in thought, in sympathy and
understanding. We expect something distinctive from this
author and her latest book splendidly fulfils our hopes.”
--_Daily Herald._
THE WOMAN THOU
GAVEST ME
by HALL CAINE
6/-
“The filling in of the story is marked by all Mr. Hall
Caine’s accustomed skill. There is a wealth of varied
characterisation, even the people who make but brief and
occasional appearances standing out as real individuals,
and not as mere names.... In description, too, the
novelist shows that his hand has lost nothing of its
cunning.... Deeply interesting as a story--perhaps
one of the best stories that Mr. Hall Caine has
given us--the book will make a further appeal to all
thoughtful readers for its frank and fearless discussion
of some of the problems and aspects of modern social and
religious life.”
--_Daily Telegraph._
“Hall Caine’s voice reaches far; in this way ‘The Woman
Thou Gavest Me’ strikes a great blow for righteousness.
There is probably no other European novelist who could
have made so poignant a tale of such simple materials.
In that light Mr. Hall Caine’s new novel is his greatest
achievement.”
--_Daily Chronicle._
Other NOVELS of HALL CAINE
(of which over 3 million copies have been sold).
“These volumes are in every way a pleasure to read. Of
living authors, Mr. Hall Caine must certainly sway as
multitudinous a following as any living man. A novel
from his pen has become indeed for England and America
something of an international event.”
--_Times._
Author of
THE BONDMAN 6/-, 2/-, 7d. net.
CAPT’N DAVEYS HONEYMOON 2/-
MY STORY 6/-, 2/- net.
THE WHITE PROPHET 6/-
THE ETERNAL CITY 6/-, 2/-
THE MANXMAN 6/-, 2/-
THE PRODIGAL SON 6/-
THE SCAPEGOAT 6/-, 7d. net.
THE CHRISTIAN 6/-, 2/-
THE GARDEN WITHOUT
WALLS
by CONINGSBY DAWSON
“ ... work of such genuine ability that its perusal is
a delight and its recommendation to others a duty....
It is a strong book, strong in every way, and it is
conceived and executed on a large scale. But long as it
is, there is nothing superfluous in it; its march is as
orderly and stately as the pageant of life itself ...
and it is a book, too, that grows on you as you read
it ... and compels admiration of the talent and skill
that have gone to its writing and the observation and
reflection that have evolved its philosophy of life.”
--_Glasgow Herald._
THE REWARD OF VIRTUE
by AMBER REEVES
6/-
“There is cleverness enough and to spare, but it is
... a spontaneous cleverness, innate, not laboriously
acquired.... The dialogue ... is so natural, so
unaffected, that it is quite possible to read it without
noticing the high artistic quality of it.... For a first
novel Miss Reeves’s is a remarkable achievement; it
would be a distinct achievement even were it not a first
novel.”
--_Daily Chronicle._
YONDER
by E. H. YOUNG
Author of “A Corn of Wheat.”
“The beauty of life shines through it all. The book is
more than a conventional love story. Nothing could be
more beautiful than the affection between Theresa and
her Father, and it is a touch for which alone the story
is worth reading. The Book is written throughout with
sympathy and dignity, and in places sounds a note of
poetry.”
--_Daily Mail._
THE TRUTH ABOUT CAMILLA
by GERTRUDE HALL
“I have not for a long time past come across a more
vivid personality in fiction.”
--_Punch._
“Camilla never fails the reader, and we are sure very
few readers will fail to give her enough admiration and
affection to satisfy her passionate amour propre. For
ourselves, we think her as delightful as she is amazing.
If this be a first adventure in fiction it is certainly
an extraordinarily good one, and the author is to be
congratulated on what, with little exaggeration, may be
described as a ‘tour de force.’”
--_Pall Mall Gazette._
THE MERRY MARAUDERS
by ARTHUR J. REES
“‘The Merry Marauders’ in no way belies its title. In a
gay, light-hearted fashion, whose fun is infectious, it
tells of the vicissitudes of a humble dramatic company
in their efforts to amuse New Zealand.... A book in
which there is a laugh on every page is a rare thing
now-a-days. And ‘The Merry Marauders’ have left us their
debtor.”
--_Outlook._
LESS THAN THE DUST
by MARY AGNES HAMILTON
6/-
“There is something delightfully fresh in the method of
treatment, something that seems to mark the passing of
another milestone in the work of the literary woman.
Literary is the right word, for Miss Hamilton’s style
bears the stamp of a natural purity of diction, while
her analysis of emotion and character is keen without
being over-protracted.”
--_Daily Telegraph._
SET TO PARTNERS
by Mrs. HENRY DUDENEY
6/-
Author of “A Runaway Ring,” “The Orchard Thief,” “A Large
Room,” etc.
“If we were asked to say what is in ‘Set to Partners’
that we find so arresting, we should be likely to place
the impression of reality which it conveys above its
grim choice of situation, or even above Mrs. Henry
Dudeney’s gift of delineating character, which is out
of the common and yet never vague ... a piece out of
life ... none will deny the splendid vitality of the
work, which is by far the best that Mrs. Dudeney has yet
done.”
--_Daily Graphic._
THE HIPPODROME
by RACHEL HAYWARD
6/-
Illustrated by CLARA WATERS.
A brightly coloured story, the scene of which is laid
in Barcelona. A young Irish girl who is dependent on
herself for a means of subsistence becomes a “star” turn
at a circus. While in the back-waters of that existence
she falls in with certain gentlemen of international
importance. She becomes their dupe and slave and passes
through many adventures. But there is a way of escape
and she takes it. Decidedly a book of swift movement and
keen excitement.
LIBBY ANN
by SADIE CASEY
“A delightful story of Irish village life, written with
intimate knowledge, and a very vivid pen, resulting in
a charming mosaic of small happenings, none of them
made magically interesting by the craft of the author.
If this is a first book, as it appears to be, it is a
grateful duty to welcome the writer to the realms of
fiction, and to hope that she will add many more such
works to her record.... This is an entirely charming
book, full of humour, and affording a particularly
interesting picture of life in rural Ireland.”
--_Daily Graphic._
KING ERRANT
by FLORA ANNIE STEEL
(2nd Impression)
6/-
Author of “On the Face of the Waters,” etc.
“Mrs. Steel has made for herself a high reputation by
the excellence of her Indian novels; in the vividness of
the Oriental picture which it presents her ‘King Errant’
stands on quite as high a level as her other books.
“Historically accurate and sufficiently absorbing,
and the results of Mrs. Steel’s careful study of his
character is that Baber stands out from the mists of
nearly four centuries as a very real and attractive
person.”
--_Times._
Author of
A PRINCE OF DREAMERS
THE FLOWER OF FORGIVENESS
FROM THE FIVE RIVERS
THE HOSTS OF THE LORD
IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD
IN THE PERMANENT WAY
MISS STUART’S LEGACY
ON THE FACE OF THE WATERS
THE POTTER’S THUMB
RED ROWANS
A SOVEREIGN REMEDY
VOICES IN THE NIGHT
and other stories.
O PIONEERS
by WILLA S. CATHER
“An admirably written tale of life in Nebraska.... The
pioneer spirit has been seized and rendered without
gesticulation, and the heroine is an altogether charming
and natural figure.”
--_T. P’s Weekly._
“Vivid pictures of the old country life of those early
pioneering years are provided, and the sunshine of
romance and the shadow of tragedy flit across the pages
and lift the story to fascinating heights at times.”
--_Scotsman._
THE MOUNTAIN APART
by JAMES PROSPER
“This is not merely a ‘clever’ novel, but a book of
marked originality, in which are neither villains
nor saints, but real people whom we come to know
intimately.... It is a book that should be read
carefully, and we wish its author the large public that
such work deserves.”
--_Academy._
THE LIFE MASK
6/-
by the Author of “He Who Passed.”
“A highly remarkable novel, with a plot both striking
and original, and written in a style quite distinctive
and charming.”
“Seldom, if ever, has a tale given me so genuine a
surprise or such an unexpectedly creepy sensation.”
--_Punch._
HE WHO PASSED
To M. L. G.
6/-
“As a story, it is one of the most enthralling I
have read for a long time.... Six--seven o’clock
struck--half-past-seven--and yet this extraordinary
narrative of a woman’s life held me absolutely
enthralled.... I forgot the weather; I forgot my own
grievances; I forgot everything, in fact, under the
spell of this wonderful book.... In fact the whole book
bears the stamp of reality from cover to cover. There
is hardly a false or strained note in it. It is the
ruthless study of a woman’s life.... If it is not the
novel of the season, the season is not likely to give us
anything much better.”--_The Tatler._
JOHN CHRISTOPHER:
I. Dawn and Morning.
II. Storm and Stress.
III. John Christopher in Paris
IV. The Journey’s End
by ROMAIN ROLLAND
each 6/-
Translated by GILBERT CANNAN. Author of “Little Brother,” etc.
“To most readers he will be a revelation, a new interest
in their lives. Take the book up where you will, and you
feel interested at once. You can read it and re-read it.
It never wearies nor grows irritating.”
--_The Daily Telegraph._
“His English exercises so easy an effect that the
reader has never for an instant the irritating sense of
missing beauties through the inadequacies of a borrowed
language; we have also compared it in many cases with
the original and found it remarkably accurate. Readers
may then be assured that they will lose but little of
Mr. Rolland’s beauty and wisdom, even though they are
unable to read him in the original, and Mr. Cannan is to
be warmly congratulated.”
--_The Standard._
“A noble piece of work, which must, without any doubt
whatever, ultimately receive the praise and attention
which it so undoubtedly merits.... There is hardly a
single book more illustrative, more informing and more
inspiring ... than M. Romain Rolland’s creative work,
‘John Christopher’.”
--_The Daily Telegraph._
=THE NOVELS OF DOSTOEVSKY=
Translated by CONSTANCE GARNETT
“By the genius of Dostoevsky you are always in the
presence of living, passionate characters. They are not
puppets, they are not acting to keep the plot in motion.
They are men and women--I should say you can hear
them breathe--irresistibly moving to their appointed
ends.”--_Evening News._
I. THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV
3/6 net
“No other writer perhaps has given to materials so ugly,
not merely strength and life, but grave pathos and
tragic beauty.”
--_Times._
II. THE IDIOT
3/6 net
“In many of his novels, Dostoevsky has contrasted
spiritual love and physical passion, but in no other has
the terror of the conflict culminated in such tragic
loneliness as in the final scene of ‘The Idiot.’”
--_Daily Chronicle._
THE POSSESSED
=THE NOVELS OF LEO TOLSTOY=
Translated by CONSTANCE GARNETT
ANNA KARENIN
2/6 net
WAR AND PEACE
3/6 net
“Mrs. Garnett’s translations from the Russian are always
distinguished by most careful accuracy and a fine
literary flavour.”
--_The Bookman._
“Mrs. Garnett’s translation has all the ease and vigour
which Matthew Arnold found in French versions of
Russian novels and missed in English. She is indeed so
successful that, but for the names, one might easily
forget he was reading a foreign author.”
--_The Contemporary Review._
THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT
by RICHARD DEHAN
(2nd Impression)
6/-
“There is real truth and pathos in the ‘Fourth Volume,’
originality in ‘The Tribute of Offa,’ and pith in nearly
all of them.”
--_Times._
“There is not one of the tales which will fail to
excite, amuse, entertain, or in some way delight the
reader.”
--_Liverpool Daily Post._
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
BETWEEN TWO THIEVES
(2nd Impression)
6/-
“The book is really an amazing piece of work. Its
abounding energy, its grip on our attention, its biting
humour, its strong, if sometimes lurid word painting
have an effect of richness and fullness of teeming life,
that sweeps one with it. What an ample chance for praise
and whole-hearted enjoyment. The thing unrols with a
vividness that never fails.”--_Daily News and Leader._
THE DOP DOCTOR
(_Now in its 16th Edition_).
2/- net
“Pulsatingly real--gloomy, tragic, humorous, dignified,
real. The cruelty of battle, the depth of disgusting
villainy, the struggles of great souls, the irony of
coincidence are all in its pages.... Who touches this
book touches a man. I am grateful for the wonderful
thrills ‘The Dop Doctor’ has given me. It is a novel
among a thousand.”
--_The Daily Express._
A LIKELY STORY
by WILLIAM DE MORGAN
6/-
“How delightful it all is.... Mr. De Morgan is worth
having for himself alone and for the point of view of
the world that he shows us.”
--_Standard._
“The book is great fun.... Much amusement, much cause
for sly chuckling throughout the book.... I have enjoyed
every line of it.”
--_T. P.’s Weekly._
“You cannot resist the charm of the narrator, who makes
you feel as if you were listening to an improvisation.”
--_The Spectator._
Author of
JOSEPH VANCE
ALICE FOR SHORT
AN AFFAIR OF DISHONOUR
IT NEVER CAN HAPPEN AGAIN
SOMEHOW GOOD
THE WEAKER VESSEL
by E. F. BENSON
6/-
“Among the writers of the present day who can make
fiction the reflection of reality, one of the foremost
is Mr. E. F. Benson. From the very beginning the
interest is enchained.”
--_Daily Telegraph._
Author of
JUGGERNAUT
*ACCOUNT RENDERED
AN ACT IN A BACKWATER
*THE ANGEL OF PAIN
*THE BOOK OF MONTHS
*THE CHALLONERS
*THE CLIMBER
THE HOUSE OF DEFENCE
*THE IMAGE IN THE SAND
*THE LUCK OF THE VAILS
*MAMMON & CO.
*PAUL
THE PRINCESS SOPHIA
*A REAPING
THE RELENTLESS CITY
*SCARLET AND HYSSOP
*SHEAVES
Each Crn. 8vo. Price 6/-.
Those volumes marked * can also be obtained in the Two Shilling
net Edition, and also the following volumes
THE OSBORNES
THE VINTAGE
DODO
⁂ “The Book of Months” and “A Reaping” form one volume
in this Edition.
21 BEDFORD STREET, LONDON, W.C.