CHAPTER I

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MRS. PANKHURST'S OWN STORY

[Illustration: E. Pankhurst]

MY OWN STORY

BY

EMMELINE PANKHURST

[Illustration: Logo]

ILLUSTRATED

LONDON

EVELEIGH NASH

1914

Copyright, 1914, by

HEARSTS'S INTERNATIONAL LIBRARY CO., INC.

_All rights reserved, including the translation into foreign

languages, including the Scandinavian._

CONTENTS

BOOK I

THE MAKING OF A MILITANT

CHAPTER PAGE

I 1

II 18

III 37

IV 57

BOOK II

FOUR YEARS OF PEACEFUL MILITANCY

CHAPTER PAGE

I 81

II 97

III 116

IV 131

V 149

VI 160

VII 166

VIII 185

BOOK III

THE WOMEN'S REVOLUTION

CHAPTER PAGE

I 205

II 221

III 249

IV 270

V 285

VI 303

VII 323

VIII 339

IX 350

ILLUSTRATIONS

Portrait of Mrs. Pankhurst _Frontispiece_

FACING

PAGE

Mrs. Pankhurst addressing a by-election crowd 74

Mrs. Pankhurst and Christabel hiding from the police

on the roof garden at Clements Inn, October, 1908 120

Christabel, Mrs. Drummond and Mrs. Pankhurst in the

dock, First Conspiracy Trial, October, 1908 126

Mrs. Pankhurst and Miss Christabel Pankhurst in prison

dress 132

Inspector Wells conducting Mrs. Pankhurst to the

House of Commons, June, 1908 140

Over 1,000 women had been in prison--Broad arrows in

the 1910 parade 170

The head of the deputation on Black Friday, November,

1910 178

For hours scenes like this were enacted on Black Friday,

November, 1910 180

Riot scenes on Black Friday, November, 1910 186

In this manner thousands of women throughout the

Kingdom slept in unoccupied houses over census night 194

The argument of the broken window pane 218

A suffragette throwing a bag of flour at Mr. Asquith

in Chester 260

Re-Arrest of Mrs. Pankhurst at Woking, May 26,

1913 312

Mrs. Pankhurst and Christabel in the garden of

Christabel's home in Paris 324

"Arrested at the King's gate!" May, 1914 348

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

The author wishes to express her deep obligation to Rheta Childe Dorr

for invaluable editorial services performed in the preparation of this

volume, especially the American edition.

FOREWORD

The closing paragraphs of this book were written in the late summer of

1914, when the armies of every great power in Europe were being

mobilised for savage, unsparing, barbarous warfare--against one another,

against small and unaggressive nations, against helpless women and

children, against civilisation itself. How mild, by comparison with the

despatches in the daily newspapers, will seem this chronicle of women's

militant struggle against political and social injustice in one small

corner of Europe. Yet let it stand as it was written, with

peace--so-called, and civilisation, and orderly government as the

background for heroism such as the world has seldom witnessed. The

militancy of men, through all the centuries, has drenched the world with

blood, and for these deeds of horror and destruction men have been

rewarded with monuments, with great songs and epics. The militancy of

women has harmed no human life save the lives of those who fought the

battle of righteousness. Time alone will reveal what reward will be

allotted to the women.

This we know, that in the black hour that has just struck in Europe, the

men are turning to their women and calling on them to take up the work

of keeping civilisation alive. Through all the harvest fields, in

orchards and vineyards, women are garnering food for the men who fight,

as well as for the children left fatherless by war. In the cities the

women are keeping open the shops, they are driving trucks and trams, and

are altogether attending to a multitude of business.

When the remnants of the armies return, when the commerce of Europe is

resumed by men, will they forget the part the women so nobly played?

Will they forget in England how women in all ranks of life put aside

their own interests and organised, not only to nurse the wounded, care

for the destitute, comfort the sick and lonely, but actually to maintain

the existence of the nation? Thus far, it must be admitted, there are

few indications that the English Government are mindful of the unselfish

devotion manifested by the women. Thus far all Government schemes for

overcoming unemployment have been directed towards the unemployment of

men. The work of women, making garments, etc., has in some cases been

taken away.

At the first alarm of war the militants proclaimed a truce, which was

answered half-heartedly by the announcement that the Government would

release all suffrage prisoners who would give an undertaking "not to

commit further crimes or outrages." Since the truce had already been

proclaimed, no suffrage prisoner deigned to reply to the Home

Secretary's provision. A few days later, no doubt influenced by

representations made to the Government by men and women of every

political faith--many of them never having been supporters of

revolutionary tactics--Mr. McKenna announced in the House of Commons

that it was the intention of the Government, within a few days, to

release unconditionally, all suffrage prisoners. So ends, for the

present, the war of women against men. As of old, the women become the

nurturing mothers of men, their sisters and uncomplaining helpmates. The

future lies far ahead, but let this preface and this volume close with

the assurance that the struggle for the full enfranchisement of women

has not been abandoned; it has simply, for the moment, been placed in

abeyance. When the clash of arms ceases, when normal, peaceful, rational

society resumes its functions, the demand will again be made. If it is

not quickly granted, then once more the women will take up the arms they

to-day generously lay down. There can be no real peace in the world

until woman, the mother half of the human family, is given liberty in

the councils of the world.

BOOK I

THE MAKING OF A MILITANT

Mrs. Pankhurst's Own Story

CHAPTER I

Those men and women are fortunate who are born at a time when a great

struggle for human freedom is in progress. It is an added good fortune

to have parents who take a personal part in the great movements of their

time. I am glad and thankful that this was my case.

One of my earliest recollections is of a great bazaar which was held in

my native city of Manchester, the object of the bazaar being to raise

money to relieve the poverty of the newly emancipated negro slaves in

the United States. My mother took an active part in this effort, and I,

as a small child, was entrusted with a lucky bag by means of which I

helped to collect money.

Young as I was--I could not have been older than five years--I knew

perfectly well the meaning of the words slavery and emancipation. From

infancy I had been accustomed to hear pro and con discussions of slavery

and the American Civil War. Although the British government finally

decided not to recognise the Confederacy, public opinion in England was

sharply divided on the questions both of slavery and of secession.

Broadly speaking, the propertied classes were pro-slavery, but there

were many exceptions to the rule. Most of those who formed the circle

of our family friends were opposed to slavery, and my father, Robert

Goulden, was always a most ardent abolitionist. He was prominent enough

in the movement to be appointed on a committee to meet and welcome Henry

Ward Beecher when he arrived in England for a lecture tour. Mrs. Harriet

Beecher Stowe's novel, "Uncle Tom's Cabin," was so great a favourite

with my mother that she used it continually as a source of bedtime

stories for our fascinated ears. Those stories, told almost fifty years

ago, are as fresh in my mind to-day as events detailed in the morning's

papers. Indeed they are more vivid, because they made a much deeper

impression on my consciousness. I can still definitely recall the thrill

I experienced every time my mother related the tale of Eliza's race for

freedom over the broken ice of the Ohio River, the agonizing pursuit,

and the final rescue at the hands of the determined old Quaker. Another

thrilling tale was the story of a negro boy's flight from the plantation

of his cruel master. The boy had never seen a railroad train, and when,

staggering along the unfamiliar railroad track, he heard the roar of an

approaching train, the clattering car-wheels seemed to his strained

imagination to be repeating over and over again the awful words, "Catch

a nigger--catch a nigger--catch a nigger--" This was a terrible story,

and throughout my childhood, whenever I rode in a train, I thought of

that poor runaway slave escaping from the pursuing monster.

These stories, with the bazaars and the relief funds and subscriptions

of which I heard so much talk, I am sure made a permanent impression on

my brain and my character. They awakened in me the two sets of

sensations to which all my life I have most readily responded: first,

admiration for that spirit of fighting and heroic sacrifice by which

alone the soul of civilisation is saved; and next after that,

appreciation of the gentler spirit which is moved to mend and repair the

ravages of war.

I do not remember a time when I could not read, nor any time when

reading was not a joy and a solace. As far back as my memory runs I

loved tales, especially those of a romantic and idealistic character.

"Pilgrim's Progress" was an early favourite, as well as another of

Bunyan's visionary romances, which does not seem to be as well known,

his "Holy War." At nine I discovered the Odyssey and very soon after

that another classic which has remained all my life a source of

inspiration. This was Carlyle's "French Revolution," and I received it

with much the same emotion that Keats experienced when he read Chapman's

translation of Homer--" ... like some watcher of the skies, When a new

planet swims into his ken."

I never lost that first impression, and it strongly affected my attitude

toward events which were occurring around my childhood. Manchester is a

city which has witnessed a great many stirring episodes, especially of a

political character. Generally speaking, its citizens have been liberal

in their sentiments, defenders of free speech and liberty of opinion. In

the late sixties there occurred in Manchester one of those dreadful

events that prove an exception to the rule. This was in connection with

the Fenian Revolt in Ireland. There was a Fenian riot, and the police

arrested the leaders. These men were being taken to the jail in a prison

van. On the way the van was stopped and an attempt was made to rescue

the prisoners. A man fired a pistol, endeavouring to break the lock of

the van door. A policeman fell, mortally wounded, and several men were

arrested and were charged with murder. I distinctly remember the riot,

which I did not witness, but which I heard vividly described by my older

brother. I had been spending the afternoon with a young playmate, and my

brother had come after tea to escort me home. As we walked through the

deepening November twilight he talked excitedly of the riot, the fatal

pistol shot, and the slain policeman. I could almost see the man

bleeding on the ground, while the crowd swayed and groaned around him.

The rest of the story reveals one of those ghastly blunders which

justice not infrequently makes. Although the shooting was done without

any intent to kill, the men were tried for murder and three of them were

found guilty and hanged. Their execution, which greatly excited the

citizens of Manchester, was almost the last, if not the last, public

execution permitted to take place in the city. At the time I was a

boarding-pupil in a school near Manchester, and I spent my week-ends at

home. A certain Saturday afternoon stands out in my memory, as on my way

home from school I passed the prison where I knew the men had been

confined. I saw that a part of the prison wall had been torn away, and

in the great gap that remained were evidences of a gallows recently

removed. I was transfixed with horror, and over me there swept the

sudden conviction that that hanging was a mistake--worse, a crime. It

was my awakening to one of the most terrible facts of life--that justice

and judgment lie often a world apart.

I relate this incident of my formative years to illustrate the fact that

the impressions of childhood often have more to do with character and

future conduct than heredity or education. I tell it also to show that

my development into an advocate of militancy was largely a sympathetic

process. I have not personally suffered from the deprivations, the

bitterness and sorrow which bring so many men and women to a realisation

of social injustice. My childhood was protected by love and a

comfortable home. Yet, while still a very young child, I began

instinctively to feel that there was something lacking, even in my own

home, some false conception of family relations, some incomplete ideal.

This vague feeling of mine began to shape itself into conviction about

the time my brothers and I were sent to school. The education of the

English boy, then as now, was considered a much more serious matter than

the education of the English boy's sister. My parents, especially my

father, discussed the question of my brothers' education as a matter of

real importance. My education and that of my sister were scarcely

discussed at all. Of course we went to a carefully selected girls'

school, but beyond the facts that the head mistress was a gentlewoman

and that all the pupils were girls of my own class, nobody seemed

concerned. A girl's education at that time seemed to have for its prime

object the art of "making home attractive"--presumably to migratory male

relatives. It used to puzzle me to understand why I was under such a

particular obligation to make home attractive to my brothers. We were on

excellent terms of friendship, but it was never suggested to them as a

duty that they make home attractive to me. Why not? Nobody seemed to

know.

The answer to these puzzling questions came to me unexpectedly one night

when I lay in my little bed waiting for sleep to overtake me. It was a

custom of my father and mother to make the round of our bedrooms every

night before going themselves to bed. When they entered my room that

night I was still awake, but for some reason I chose to feign slumber.

My father bent over me, shielding the candle flame with his big hand. I

cannot know exactly what thought was in his mind as he gazed down at me,

but I heard him say, somewhat sadly, "What a pity she wasn't born a

lad."

My first hot impulse was to sit up in bed and protest that I didn't want

to be a boy, but I lay still and heard my parents' footsteps pass on

toward the next child's bed. I thought about my father's remark for many

days afterward, but I think I never decided that I regretted my sex.

However, it was made quite clear that men considered themselves superior

to women, and that women apparently acquiesced in that belief.

I found this view of things difficult to reconcile with the fact that

both my father and my mother were advocates of equal suffrage. I was

very young when the Reform Act of 1866 was passed, but I very well

remember the agitation caused by certain circumstances attending it.

This Reform Act, known as the Household Franchise Bill, marked the first

popular extension of the ballot in England since 1832. Under its terms,

householders paying a minimum of ten pounds a year rental were given the

Parliamentary vote. While it was still under discussion in the House of

Commons, John Stuart Mill moved an amendment to the bill to include

women householders as well as men. The amendment was defeated, but in

the act as passed the word "man," instead of the usual "male person,"

was used. Now, under another act of Parliament it had been decided that

the word "man" always included "woman" unless otherwise specifically

stated. For example, in certain acts containing rate-paying clauses, the

masculine noun and pronoun are used throughout, but the provisions apply

to women rate-payers as well as to men. So when the Reform Bill with the

word "man" in it became law, many women believed that the right of

suffrage had actually been bestowed upon them. A tremendous amount of

discussion ensued, and the matter was finally tested by a large number

of women seeking to have their names placed upon the register as voters.

In my city of Manchester 3,924 women, out of a total of 4,215 possible

women voters, claimed their votes, and their claim was defended in the

law courts by eminent lawyers, including my future husband, Dr.

Pankhurst. Of course the women's claim was settled adversely in the

courts, but the agitation resulted in a strengthening of the

woman-suffrage agitation all over the country.

I was too young to understand the precise nature of the affair, but I

shared in the general excitement. From reading newspapers aloud to my

father I had developed a genuine interest in politics, and the Reform

Bill presented itself to my young intelligence as something that was

going to do the most wonderful good to the country. The first election

after the bill became law was naturally a memorable occasion. It is

chiefly memorable to me because it was the first one in which I ever

participated. My sister and I had just been presented with new winter

frocks, green in colour, and made alike, after the custom of proper

British families. Every girl child in those days wore a red flannel

petticoat, and when we first put on our new frocks I was struck with the

fact that we were wearing red and green--the colours of the Liberal

party. Since our father was a Liberal, of course the Liberal party ought

to carry the election, and I conceived a brilliant scheme for helping

its progress. With my small sister trotting after me, I walked the

better part of a mile to the nearest polling-booth. It happened to be in

a rather rough factory district, but we did not notice that. Arrived

there, we two children picked up our green skirts to show our scarlet

petticoats, and brimful of importance, walked up and down before the

assembled crowds to encourage the Liberal vote. From this eminence we

were shortly snatched by outraged authority in the form of a

nursery-maid. I believe we were sent to bed into the bargain, but I am

not entirely clear on this point.

I was fourteen years old when I went to my first suffrage meeting.

Returning from school one day, I met my mother just setting out for the

meeting, and I begged her to let me go along. She consented, and without

stopping to lay my books down I scampered away in my mother's wake. The

speeches interested and excited me, especially the address of the great

Miss Lydia Becker, who was the Susan B. Anthony of the English movement,

a splendid character and a truly eloquent speaker. She was the secretary

of the Manchester committee, and I had learned to admire her as the

editor of the _Women's Suffrage Journal_, which came to my mother every

week. I left the meeting a conscious and confirmed suffragist.

I suppose I had always been an unconscious suffragist. With my

temperament and my surroundings I could scarcely have been otherwise.

The movement was very much alive in the early seventies, nowhere more so

than in Manchester, where it was organised by a group of extraordinary

men and women. Among them were Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Bright, who were

always ready to champion the struggling cause. Mr. Jacob Bright, a

brother of John Bright, was for many years member of Parliament for

Manchester, and to the day of his death was an active supporter of woman

suffrage. Two especially gifted women, besides Miss Becker, were members

of the committee. These were Mrs. Alice Cliff Scatcherd and Miss

Wolstentholm, now the venerable Mrs. Wolstentholm-Elmy. One of the

principal founders of the committee was the man whose wife, in later

years, I was destined to become, Dr. Richard Marsden Pankhurst.

When I was fifteen years old I went to Paris, where I was entered as a

pupil in one of the pioneer institutions in Europe for the higher

education of girls. This school, one of the founders of which was Madame

Edmond Adam, who was and is still a distinguished literary figure, was

situated in a fine old house in the Avenue de Neuilly. It was under the

direction of Mlle. Marchef-Girard, a woman distinguished in education,

and who afterward was appointed government inspector of schools in

France. Mlle. Marchef-Girard believed that girls' education should be

quite as thorough and even more practical than the education boys were

receiving at that time. She included chemistry and other sciences in her

courses, and in addition to embroidery she had her girls taught

bookkeeping. Many other advanced ideas prevailed in this school, and the

moral discipline which the pupils received was, to my mind, as valuable

as the intellectual training. Mlle. Marchef-Girard held that women

should be given the highest ideals of honour. Her pupils were kept to

the strictest principles of truth-telling and candour. Myself she

understood and greatly benefited by an implicit trust which I am sure I

could not have betrayed, even had I felt for her less real affection.

My roommate in this delightful school was an interesting young girl of

my own age, Noemie Rochefort, daughter of that great Republican,

Communist, journalist, and swordsman, Henri Rochefort. This was very

shortly after the Franco-Prussian War, and memories of the Empire's

fall and of the bloody and disastrous Commune were very keen in Paris.

Indeed my roommate's illustrious father and many others were then in

exile in New Caledonia for participation in the Commune. My friend

Noemie was torn with anxiety for her father. She talked of him

constantly, and many were the blood-curdling accounts of daring and of

patriotism to which I listened. Henri Rochefort was, in fact, one of the

moving spirits of the Republican movement in France, and after his

amazing escape in an open boat from New Caledonia, he lived through many

years of political adventures of the most lively and picturesque

character. His daughter and I remained warm friends long after our

school-days ended, and my association with her strengthened all the

liberal ideas I had previously acquired.

I was between eighteen and nineteen when I finally returned from school

in Paris and took my place in my father's home as a finished young lady.

I sympathised with and worked for the woman-suffrage movement, and came

to know Dr. Pankhurst, whose work for woman suffrage had never ceased.

It was Dr. Pankhurst who drafted the first enfranchisement bill, known

as the Women's Disabilities Removal Bill, and introduced into the House

of Commons in 1870 by Mr. Jacob Bright. The bill advanced to its second

reading by a majority vote of thirty-three, but it was killed in

committee by Mr. Gladstone's peremptory orders. Dr. Pankhurst, as I have

already said, with another distinguished barrister, Lord Coleridge,

acted as counsel for the Manchester women, who tried in 1868 to be

placed on the register as voters. He also drafted the bill giving

married women absolute control over their property and earnings, a bill

which became law in 1882.

My marriage with Dr. Pankhurst took place in 1879.

I think we cannot be too grateful to the group of men and women who,

like Dr. Pankhurst, in those early days lent the weight of their

honoured names to the suffrage movement in the trials of its struggling

youth. These men did not wait until the movement became popular, nor did

they hesitate until it was plain that women were roused to the point of

revolt. They worked all their lives with those who were organising,

educating, and preparing for the revolt which was one day to come.

Unquestionably those pioneer men suffered in popularity for their

feminist views. Some of them suffered financially, some politically. Yet

they never wavered.

My married life lasted through nineteen happy years. Often I have heard

the taunt that suffragists are women who have failed to find any normal

outlet for their emotions, and are therefore soured and disappointed

beings. This is probably not true of any suffragist, and it is most

certainly not true of me. My home life and relations have been as nearly

ideal as possible in this imperfect world. About a year after my

marriage my daughter Christabel was born, and in another eighteen months

my second daughter Sylvia came. Two other children followed, and for

some years I was rather deeply immersed in my domestic affairs.

I was never so absorbed with home and children, however, that I lost

interest in community affairs. Dr. Pankhurst did not desire that I

should turn myself into a household machine. It was his firm belief that

society as well as the family stands in need of women's services. So

while my children were still in their cradles I was serving on the

executive committee of the Women's Suffrage Society, and also on the

executive board of the committee which was working to secure the Married

Women's Property Act. This act having passed in 1882, I threw myself

into the suffrage work with renewed energy. A new Reform Act, known as

the County Franchise Bill, extending the suffrage to farm labourers, was

under discussion, and we believed that our years of educational

propaganda work had prepared the country to support us in a demand for a

women's suffrage amendment to the bill. For several years we had been

holding the most splendid meetings in cities all over the kingdom. The

crowds, the enthusiasm, the generous response to appeals for support,

all these seemed to justify us in our belief that women's suffrage was

near. In fact, in 1884, when the County Franchise Bill came before the

country, we had an actual majority in favour of suffrage in the House of

Commons.

But a favourable majority in the House of Commons by no means insures

the success of any measure. I shall explain this at length when I come

to our work of opposing candidates who have avowed themselves

suffragists, a course which has greatly puzzled our American friends.

The Liberal party was in power in 1884, and a great memorial was sent

to the Prime Minister, the Right Honourable William E. Gladstone, asking

that a women's suffrage amendment to the County Franchise Bill be

submitted to the free and unbiased consideration of the House. Mr.

Gladstone curtly refused, declaring that if a women's suffrage amendment

should be carried, the Government would disclaim responsibility for the

bill. The amendment was submitted nevertheless, but Mr. Gladstone would

not allow it to be freely discussed, and he ordered Liberal members to

vote against it. What we call a whip was sent out against it, a note

virtually commanding party members to be on hand at a certain hour to

vote against the women's amendment. Undismayed, the women tried to have

an independent suffrage bill introduced, but Mr. Gladstone so arranged

Parliamentary business that the bill never even came up for discussion.

I am not going to write a history of the woman suffrage movement in

England prior to 1903, when the Women's Social and Political Union was

organised. That history is full of repetitions of just such stories as

the one I have related. Gladstone was an implacable foe of woman

suffrage. He believed that women's work and politics lay in service to

men's parties. One of the shrewdest acts of Mr. Gladstone's career was

his disruption of the suffrage organisation in England. He accomplished

this by substituting "something just as good," that something being

Women's Liberal Associations. Beginning in 1881 in Bristol, these

associations spread rapidly through the country and, in 1887, became a

National Women's Liberal Federation. The promise of the Federation was

that by allying themselves with men in party politics, women would soon

earn the right to vote. The avidity with which the women swallowed this

promise, left off working for themselves, and threw themselves into the

men's work was amazing.

The Women's Liberal Federation is an organisation of women who believe

in the principles of the Liberal party. (The somewhat older Primrose

League is a similar organisation of women who adhere to Conservative

party principles.) Neither of these organisations have woman suffrage

for their object. They came into existence to uphold party ideas and to

work for the election of party candidates.

I am told that women in America have recently allied themselves with

political parties, believing, just as we did, that such action would

break down opposition to suffrage by showing the men that women possess

political ability, and that politics is work for women as well as men.

Let them not be deceived. I can assure the American women that our long

alliance with the great parties, our devotion to party programmes, our

faithful work at elections, never advanced the suffrage cause one step.

The men accepted the services of the women, but they never offered any

kind of payment.

As far as I am concerned, I did not delude myself with any false hopes

in the matter. I was present when the Women's Liberal Federation came

into existence. Mrs. Gladstone presided, offering the meeting many

consolatory words for the absence of "our great leader," Mr. Gladstone,

who of course had no time to waste on a gathering of women. At Mrs.

Jacob Bright's request I joined the Federation. At this stage of my

development I was a member of the Fabian Society, and I had considerable

faith in the permeating powers of its mild socialism. But I was already

fairly convinced of the futility of trusting to political parties. Even

as a child I had begun to wonder at the _naive_ faith of party members

in the promises of their leaders. I well remember my father returning

home from political meetings, his face aglow with enthusiasm. "What

happened, father?" I would ask, and he would reply triumphantly, "Ah! We

passed the resolution."

"Then you'll get your measure through the next session," I predicted.

"I won't say that," was the usual reply. "Things don't always move as

quickly as that. But we passed the resolution."

Well, the suffragists, when they were admitted into the Women's Liberal

Federation must have felt that they had passed their resolution. They

settled down to work for the party and to prove that they were as

capable of voting as the recently enfranchised farm labourers. Of course

a few women remained loyal to suffrage. They began again on the old

educational lines to work for the cause. Not one woman took counsel with

herself as to how and why the agricultural labourers had won their

franchise. They had won it, as a matter of fact, by burning hay-ricks,

rioting, and otherwise demonstrating their strength in the only way that

English politicians can understand. The threat to march a hundred

thousand men to the House of Commons unless the bill was passed played

its part also in securing the agricultural labourer his political

freedom. But no woman suffragist noticed that. As for myself, I was too

young politically to learn the lesson then. I had to go through years of

public work before I acquired the experience and the wisdom to know how

to wring concessions from the English Government. I had to hold public

office. I had to go behind the scenes in the government schools, in the

workhouses and other charitable institutions; I had to get a close-hand

view of the misery and unhappiness of a man-made world, before I reached

the point where I could successfully revolt against it. It was almost

immediately after the collapse of the woman suffrage movement in 1884

that I entered upon this new phase of my career.

CHAPTER II

In 1885, a year after the failure of the third women's suffrage bill, my

husband, Dr. Pankhurst, stood as the Liberal candidate for Parliament in

Rotherline, a riverside constituency of London. I went through the

campaign with him, speaking and canvassing to the best of my ability.

Dr. Pankhurst was a popular candidate, and unquestionably would have

been returned but for the opposition of the Home-Rulers. Parnell was in

command, and his settled policy was opposition to all Government

candidates. So, in spite of the fact that Dr. Pankhurst was a staunch

upholder of home rule, the Parnell forces were solidly opposed to him,

and he was defeated. I remember expressing considerable indignation, but

my husband pointed out to me that Parnell's policy was absolutely right.

With his small party he could never hope to win home rule from a hostile

majority, but by constant obstruction he could in time wear out the

Government, and force it to surrender. That was a valuable political

lesson, one that years later I was destined to put into practice.

The following year found us living in London, and, as usual, interesting

ourselves with labour matters and other social movements. This year was

memorable for a great strike of women working in the Bryant and May

match factories. I threw myself into this strike with enthusiasm,

working with the girls and with some women of prominence, among these

the celebrated Mrs. Annie Besant. The strike was a successful one, the

girls winning substantial improvements in their working conditions.

It was a time of tremendous unrest, of labour agitations, of strikes and

lockouts. It was a time also when a most stupid reactionary spirit

seemed to take possession of the Government and the authorities. The

Salvation Army, the Socialists, the trade-unionists--in fact, all bodies

holding outdoor meetings--were made special objects of attack. As a

protest against this policy a Law and Liberty League was formed in

London, and an immense Free Speech meeting was held in Trafalgar Square,

John Burns and Cunningham Graham being the principal speakers. I was

present at this meeting, which resulted in a bloody riot between the

police and the populace. The Trafalgar Square Riot is historic, and to

it Mr. John Burns owes, in large part, his subsequent rise to political

eminence. Both John Burns and Cunningham Graham served prison sentences

for the part they played in the riot, but they gained fame, and they did

much to establish the right of free speech for English men. English

women are still contending for that right.

In 1890 my last child was born in London. I now had a family of five

young children, and for a time I was less active in public work. On the

retirement of Mrs. Annie Besant from the London School Board I had been

asked to stand as candidate for the vacancy, but although I should have

enjoyed the work, I decided not to accept this invitation. The next

year, however, a new suffrage association, the Women's Franchise League,

was formed, and I felt it my duty to become affiliated with it The

League was preparing a new suffrage bill, the provisions of which I

could not possibly approve, and I joined with old friends, among whom

were Mrs. Jacob Bright, Mrs. Wolstentholm-Elmy, who was a member of the

London School Board, and Mrs. Stanton Blatch, then resident in England,

in an effort to substitute the original bill drafted by Dr. Pankhurst.

As a matter of fact, neither of the bills was introduced into Parliament

that year. Mr. (now Lord) Haldane, who had the measure in charge,

introduced one of his own drafting. It was a truly startling bill,

royally inclusive in its terms. It not only enfranchised all women,

married and unmarried, of the householding classes, but it made them

eligible to all offices under the Crown. The bill was never taken

seriously by the Government, and indeed it was never intended that it

should be, as we were later made to understand. I remember going with

Mrs. Stanton Blatch to the law courts to see Mr. Haldane, and to protest

against the introduction of a measure that had not the remotest chance

of passing.

"All, that bill," said Haldane, "is for the future."

All their woman suffrage bills are intended for the future, a future so

remote as to be imperceptible. We were beginning to understand this even

in 1891. However, as long as there was a bill, we determined to support

it. Accordingly, we canvassed the members, distributed a great deal of

literature, and organised and addressed meetings. We not only made

speeches ourselves, but we induced friendly members of Parliament to go

on our platforms. One of these meetings, held in an East End Radical

club, was addressed by Mr. Haldane and a young man who accompanied him.

This young man, Sir Edward Grey, then in the beginning of his career,

made an eloquent plea for woman's suffrage. That Sir Edward Grey should,

later in life, become a bitter foe of woman's suffrage need astonish no

one. I have known many young Englishmen who began their political life

as suffrage speakers and who later became anti-suffragists or traitorous

"friends" of the cause. These young and aspiring statesmen have to

attract attention in some fashion, and the espousal of advanced causes,

such as labour or women's suffrage, seems an easy way to accomplish that

end.

Well, our speeches and our agitation did nothing at all to assist Mr.

Haldane's impossible bill. It never advanced beyond the first reading.

Our London residence came to an end in 1893. In that year we returned to

our Manchester home, and I again took up the work of the Suffrage

Society. At my suggestion the members began to organise their first

out-of-door meetings, and we continued these until we succeeded in

working up a great meeting that filled Free Trade Hall, and overflowed

into and crowded a smaller hall near at hand. This marked the beginning

of a campaign of propaganda among working people, an object which I had

long desired to bring about.

And now began a new and, as I look back on it, an absorbingly

interesting stage of my career. I have told how our leaders in the

Liberal Party had advised the women to prove their fitness for the

Parliamentary franchise by serving in municipal offices, especially the

unsalaried offices. A large number of women had availed themselves of

this advice, and were serving on Boards of Guardians, on school boards,

and in other capacities. My children now being old enough for me to

leave them with competent nurses, I was free to join these ranks. A year

after my return to Manchester I became a candidate for the Board of Poor

Law Guardians. Several weeks before, I had contested unsuccessfully for

a place on the school board. This time, however, I was elected, heading

the poll by a very large majority.

For the benefit of American readers I shall explain something of the

operation of our English Poor Law. The duty of the law is to administer

an act of Queen Elizabeth, one of the greatest reforms effected by that

wise and humane monarch. When Elizabeth came to the throne she found

England, the Merrie England of contemporary poets, in a state of

appalling poverty. Hordes of people were literally starving to death, in

wretched hovels, in the streets, and at the very gates of the palace.

The cause of all this misery was the religious reformation under Henry

VIII, and the secession from Rome of the English Church. King Henry, it

is known, seized all the Church lands, the abbeys and the convents, and

gave them as rewards to those nobles and favourites who had supported

his policies. But in taking over the Church's property the Protestant

nobles by no means assumed the Church's ancient responsibilities of

lodging wayfarers, giving alms, nursing the sick, educating youths, and

caring for the young and the superannuated. When the monks and the nuns

were turned out of their convents these duties devolved on no one. The

result, after the brief reign of Edward VI and the bloody one of Queen

Mary, was the social anarchy inherited by Elizabeth.

This great queen and great woman, perceiving that the responsibility for

the poor and the helpless rightfully rests on the community, caused an

act to be passed creating in the parishes public bodies to deal with

local conditions of poverty. The Board of Poor Law Guardians disburses

for the poor the money coming from the Poor Rates (taxes), and some

additional moneys allowed by the local government board, the president

of which is a cabinet minister. Mr. John Burns is the present incumbent

of the office. The Board of Guardians has control of the institution we

call the workhouse. You have, I believe, almshouses, or poorhouses, but

they are not quite so extensive as our workhouses, which are all kinds

of institutions in one. We had, in my workhouse, a hospital with nine

hundred beds, a school with several hundred children, a farm, and many

workshops.

When I came into office I found that the law in our district, Chorlton,

was being very harshly administered. The old board had been made up of

the kind of men who are known as rate savers. They were guardians, not

of the poor but of the rates, and, as I soon discovered, not very astute

guardians even of money. For instance, although the inmates were being

very poorly fed, a frightful waste of food was apparent. Each inmate was

given each day a certain weight of food, and bread formed so much of the

ration that hardly anyone consumed all of his portion. In the farm

department pigs were kept on purpose to consume this surplus of bread,

and as pigs do not thrive on a solid diet of stale bread the animals

fetched in the market a much lower price than properly fed farm pigs. I

suggested that, instead of giving a solid weight of bread in one lump,

the loaf be cut in slices and buttered with margarine, each person being

allowed all that he cared to eat. The rest of the board objected, saying

that our poor charges were very jealous of their rights, and would

suspect in such an innovation an attempt to deprive them of a part of

their ration. This was easily overcome by the suggestion that we consult

the inmates before we made the change. Of course the poor people

consented, and with the bread that we saved we made puddings with milk

and currants, to be fed to the old people of the workhouse. These old

folks I found sitting on backless forms, or benches. They had no

privacy, no possessions, not even a locker. The old women were without

pockets in their gowns, so they were obliged to keep any poor little

treasures they had in their bosoms. Soon after I took office we gave the

old people comfortable Windsor chairs to sit in, and in a number of ways

we managed to make their existence more endurable.

These, after all, were minor benefits. But it does gratify me when I

look back and remember what we were able to do for the children of the

Manchester workhouse. The first time I went into the place I was

horrified to see little girls seven and eight years old on their knees

scrubbing the cold stones of the long corridors. These little girls were

clad, summer and winter, in thin cotton frocks, low in the neck and

short sleeved. At night they wore nothing at all, night dresses being

considered too good for paupers. The fact that bronchitis was epidemic

among them most of the time had not suggested to the guardians any

change in the fashion of their clothes. There was a school for the

children, but the teaching was of the poorest order. They were forlorn

enough, these poor innocents, when I first met them. In five years' time

we had changed the face of the earth for them. We had bought land in the

country and had built a cottage system home for the children, and we had

established for them a modern school with trained teachers. We had even

secured for them a gymnasium and a swimming-bath. I may say that I was

on the building committee of the board, the only woman member.

Whatever may be urged against the English Poor Law system, I maintain

that under it no stigma of pauperism need be applied to workhouse

children. If they are treated like paupers of course they will be

paupers, and they will grow up paupers, permanent burdens on society;

but if they are regarded merely as children under the guardianship of

the state, they assume quite another character. Rich children are not

pauperized by being sent to one or another of the free public schools

with which England is blest. Yet a great many of those schools, now

exclusively used for the education of upper middle-class boys, were

founded by legacies left to educate the poor--girls as well as boys. The

English Poor Law, properly administered, ought to give back to the

children of the destitute what the upper classes have taken from them, a

good education on a self-respecting basis.

The trouble is, as I soon perceived after taking office, the law cannot,

in existing circumstances, do all the work, even for children, that it

was intended to do. We shall have to have new laws, and it soon became

apparent to me that we can never hope to get them until women have the

vote. During the time I served on the board, and for years since then,

women guardians all over the country have striven in vain to have the

law reformed in order to ameliorate conditions which break the hearts of

women to see, but which apparently affect men very little. I have spoken

of the little girls I found scrubbing the workhouse floors. There were

others at the hateful labour who aroused my keenest pity. I found that

there were pregnant women in that workhouse, scrubbing floors, doing the

hardest kind of work, almost until their babies came into the world.

Many of them were unmarried women, very, very young, mere girls. These

poor mothers were allowed to stay in the hospital after confinement for

a short two weeks. Then they had to make a choice of staying in the

workhouse and earning their living by scrubbing and other work, in

which case they were separated from their babies; or of taking their

discharges. They could stay and be paupers, or they could leave--leave

with a two-weeks-old baby in their arms, without hope, without home,

without money, without anywhere to go. What became of those girls, and

what became of their hapless infants? That question was at the basis of

the women guardians' demand for a reform of one part of the Poor Law.

That section deals with the little children who are boarded out, not by

the workhouse, but by the parents, that parent being almost always the

mother. It is from that class of workhouse mothers--mostly young servant

girls--which thoughtless people say all working girls ought to be; it is

from that class more than from any other that cases of illegitimacy

come. Those poor little servant girls, who can get out perhaps only in

the evening, whose minds are not very cultivated, and who find all the

sentiment of their lives in cheap novelettes, fall an easy prey to those

who have designs against them. These are the people by whom the babies

are mostly put out to nurse, and the mothers have to pay for their keep.

Of course the babies are very badly protected. The Poor Law Guardians

are supposed to protect them by appointing inspectors to visit the homes

where the babies are boarded. But, under the law, if a man who ruins a

girl pays down a lump sum of twenty pounds, less than a hundred dollars,

the boarding home is immune from inspection. As long as a baby-farmer

takes only one child at a time, the twenty pounds being paid, the

inspectors cannot inspect the house. Of course the babies die with

hideous promptness, often long before the twenty pounds have been spent,

and then the baby-farmers are free to solicit another victim. For years,

as I have said, women have tried in vain to get that one small reform of

the Poor Law, to reach and protect all illegitimate children, and to

make it impossible for any rich scoundrel to escape future liability for

his child because of the lump sum he has paid down. Over and over again

it has been tried, but it has always failed, because the ones who really

care about the thing are mere women.

I thought I had been a suffragist before I became a Poor Law Guardian,

but now I began to think about the vote in women's hands not only as a

right but as a desperate necessity. These poor, unprotected mothers and

their babies I am sure were potent factors in my education as a

militant. In fact, all the women I came in contact with in the workhouse

contributed to that education. Very soon after I went on the board I saw

that the class of old women who came into the workhouse were in many

ways superior to the kind of old men who came into the workhouse. One

could not help noticing it. They were, to begin with, more industrious.

In fact, it was quite touching to see their industry and patience. Old

women, over sixty and seventy years of age, did most of the work of that

place, most of the sewing, most of the things that kept the house clean

and which supplied the inmates with clothing. I found that the old men

were different. One could not get very much work out of them. They liked

to stop in the oakum picking-room, where they were allowed to smoke;

but as to real work, very little was done by our old men.

I began to make inquiries about these old women. I found that the

majority of them were not women who had been dissolute, who had been

criminal, but women who had lead perfectly respectable lives, either as

wives and mothers, or as single women earning their own living. A great

many were of the domestic-servant class, who had not married, who had

lost their employment, and had reached a time of life when it was

impossible to get more employment. It was through no fault of their own,

but simply because they had never earned enough to save. The average

wage of working women in England is less than two dollars a week. On

this pittance it is difficult enough to keep alive, and of course it is

impossible to save. Every one who knows anything about conditions under

which our working women live knows that few of them can ever hope to put

by enough to keep them in old age. Besides, the average working woman

has to support others than herself. How can she save?

Some of our old women were married. Many of them, I found, were widows

of skilled artisans who had had pensions from their unions, but the

pensions had died with the men. These women, who had given up the power

to work for themselves, and had devoted themselves to working for their

husbands and children, were left penniless. There was nothing for them

to do but to go into the workhouse. Many of them were widows of men who

had served their country in the army or the navy. The men had had

pensions from the government, but the pensions had died with them, and

so the women were in the workhouse.

We shall not in future, I hope, find so many respectable old women in

English workhouses. We have an old-age pension law now, which allows old

women as well as old men the sum of five shillings--$1.20--a week;

hardly enough to live on, but enough to enable the poor to keep their

old fathers and mothers out of the workhouse without starving themselves

or their children. But when I was a Poor Law Guardian there was simply

nothing to do with a woman when her life of toil ceased except make a

pauper of her.

I wish I had space to tell you of other tragedies of women I witnessed

while I was on that board. In our out-relief department, which exists

chiefly for able-bodied poor and dependent persons, I was brought into

contact with widows who were struggling desperately to keep their homes

and families together. The law allowed these women relief of a certain

very inadequate kind, but for herself and one child it offered no relief

except the workhouse. Even if the woman had a baby at her breast she was

regarded, under the law, as an able-bodied man. Women, we are told,

should stay at home and take care of their children. I used to astound

my men colleagues by saying to them: "When women have the vote they will

see that mothers _can_ stay at home and care for their children. You men

have made it impossible for these mothers to do that."

I am convinced that the enfranchised woman will find many ways in which

to lessen, at least, the curse of poverty. Women have more practical

ideas about relief, and especially of prevention of dire poverty, than

men display. I was struck with this whenever I attended the District

Conferences and the annual Poor Law Union Meetings. In our discussions

the women showed themselves much more capable, much more resourceful,

than the men. I remember two papers which I prepared and which caused

considerable discussion. One of these was on the Duties of Guardians in

Times of Unemployment, in which I pointed out that the government had

one reserve of employment for men which could always be used. We have,

on our northwest coast, a constant washing away of the fore shore. Every

once in a while the question of coast reclamation comes up for

discussion, but I had never heard any man suggest coast reclamation as a

means of giving the unemployed relief.

In 1898 I suffered an irreparable loss in the death of my husband. His

death occurred suddenly and left me with the heavy responsibility of

caring for a family of children, the eldest only seventeen years of age.

I resigned my place on the Board of Guardians, and was almost

immediately appointed to the salaried office of Registrar of Births and

Deaths in Manchester. We have registrars of births, deaths and marriages

in England, but since the act establishing the last named contains the

words "male person," a woman may not be appointed a registrar of

marriages. The head of this department of the government is the

registrar-general, with offices at Somerset House, London, where all

vital statistics are returned and all records filed.

It was my duty as registrar of births and deaths to act as chief census

officer of my district; I was obliged to receive all returns of births

and deaths, record them, and send my books quarterly to the office of

the registrar-general. My district was in a working-class quarter, and

on this account I instituted evening office hours twice a week. It was

touching to observe how glad the women were to have a woman registrar to

go to. They used to tell me their stories, dreadful stories some of

them, and all of them pathetic with that patient and uncomplaining

pathos of poverty. Even after my experience on the Board of Guardians, I

was shocked to be reminded over and over again of the little respect

there was in the world for women and children. I have had little girls

of thirteen come to my office to register the births of their babies,

illegitimate, of course. In many of these cases I found that the child's

own father or some near male relative was responsible for her state.

There was nothing that could be done in most cases. The age of consent

in England is sixteen years, but a man can always claim that he thought

the girl was over sixteen. During my term of office a very young mother

of an illegitimate child exposed her baby, and it died. The girl was

tried for murder and was sentenced to death. This was afterwards

commuted, it is true, but the unhappy child had the horrible experience

of the trial and the sentence "to be hanged by the neck, until you are

dead." The wretch who was, from the point of view of justice, the real

murderer of the baby, received no punishment at all.

I needed only one more experience after this one, only one more contact

with the life of my time and the position of women, to convince me that

if civilisation is to advance at all in the future, it must be through

the help of women, women freed of their political shackles, women with

full power to work their will in society. In 1900 I was asked to stand

as a candidate for the Manchester School Board. The schools were then

under the old law, and the school boards were very active bodies. They

administered the Elementary Education Act, bought school sites, erected

buildings, employed and paid teachers. The school code and the

curriculum were framed by the Board of Education, which is part of the

central government. Of course this was absurd. A body of men in London

could not possibly realise all the needs of boys and girls in remote

parts of England. But so it was.

As a member of the school board I very soon found that the teachers,

working people of the higher grade, were in exactly the same position as

the working people of the lower grades. That is, the men had all the

advantage. Teachers had a representative in the school board councils.

Of course that representative was a man teacher, and equally of course,

he gave preference to the interests of the men teachers. Men teachers

received much higher salaries than the women, although many of the

women, in addition to their regular class work, had to teach sewing and

domestic science into the bargain. They received no extra pay for their

extra work. In spite of this added burden, and in spite of the lower

salaries received, I found that the women cared a great deal more about

their work, and a great deal more about the children than the men. It

was a winter when there was a great deal of poverty and unemployment in

Manchester. I found that the women teachers were spending their slender

salaries to provide regular dinners for destitute children, and were

giving up their time to waiting on them and seeing that they were

nourished. They said to me, quite simply: "You see, the little things

are too badly off to study their lessons. We have to feed them before we

can teach them."

Well, instead of seeing that women care more for schools and school

children than men do and should therefore have more power in education,

the Parliament of 1900 actually passed a law which took education in

England entirely out of the hands of women. This law abolished the

school board altogether and placed the administration of schools in the

hands of the municipalities. Certain corporations had formerly made

certain grants to technical education--Manchester had built a

magnificent technical college--and now the corporations had full control

of both elementary and secondary education.

The law did indeed provide that the corporations should co-opt at least

one woman on their education boards. Manchester co-opted four women, and

at the strong recommendation of the Labour Party, I was one of the

women chosen. At their urgent solicitation I was appointed to the

Committee on Technical Instruction, the one woman admitted to this

committee. I learned that the Manchester Technical College, called the

second best in Europe, spending thousands of pounds annually for

technical training, had practically no provision for training women.

Even in classes where they might easily have been admitted, bakery and

confectionery classes and the like, the girls were kept out because the

men's trades unions objected to their being educated for such skilled

work. It was rapidly becoming clear to my mind that men regarded women

as a servant class in the community, and that women were going to remain

in the servant class until they lifted themselves out of it. I asked

myself many times in those days what was to be done. I had joined the

Labour Party, thinking that through its councils something vital might

come, some such demand for the women's enfranchisement that the

politicians could not possibly ignore. Nothing came.

All these years my daughters had been growing up. All their lives they

had been interested in women's suffrage. Christabel and Sylvia, as

little girls, had cried to be taken to meetings. They had helped in our

drawing-room meetings in every way that children can help. As they grew

older we used to talk together about the suffrage, and I was sometimes

rather frightened by their youthful confidence in the prospect, which

they considered certain, of the success of the movement. One day

Christabel startled me with the remark: "How long you women have been

trying for the vote. For my part, I mean to get it."

Was there, I reflected, any difference between trying for the vote and

getting it? There is an old French proverb, "If youth could know; if age

could do." It occurred to me that if the older suffrage workers could in

some way join hands with the young, unwearied and resourceful

suffragists, the movement might wake up to new life and new

possibilities. After that I and my daughters together sought a way to

bring about that union of young and old which would find new methods,

blaze new trails. At length we thought we had found a way.

CHAPTER III

In the summer of 1902--I think it was 1902--Susan B. Anthony paid a

visit to Manchester, and that visit was one of the contributory causes

that led to the founding of our militant suffrage organisation, the

Women's Social and Political Union. During Miss Anthony's visit my

daughter Christabel, who was very deeply impressed, wrote an article for

the Manchester papers on the life and works of the venerable reformer.

After her departure Christabel spoke often of her, and always with

sorrow and indignation that such a splendid worker for humanity was

destined to die without seeing the hopes of her lifetime realised. "It

is unendurable," declared my daughter, "to think of another generation

of women wasting their lives begging for the vote. We must not lose any

more time. We must act."

By this time the Labour Party, of which I was still a member, had

returned Mr. Keir Hardie to Parliament, and we decided that the first

step in a campaign of action was to make the Labour Party responsible

for a new suffrage bill. At a recent annual conference of the party I

had moved a resolution calling upon the members to instruct their own

member of Parliament to introduce a bill for the enfranchisement of

women. The resolution was passed, and we determined to organise a

society of women to demand immediate enfranchisement, not by means of

any outworn missionary methods, but through political action.

It was in October, 1903, that I invited a number of women to my house in

Nelson street, Manchester, for purposes of organisation. We voted to

call our new society the Women's Social and Political Union, partly to

emphasise its democracy, and partly to define its object as political

rather than propagandist. We resolved to limit our membership

exclusively to women, to keep ourselves absolutely free from any party

affiliation, and to be satisfied with nothing but action on our

question. Deeds, not words, was to be our permanent motto.

To such a pass had the women's suffrage cause come in my country that

the old leaders, who had done such fine educational work in the past,

were now seemingly content with expressions of sympathy and regret on

the part of hypocritical politicians. This fact was thrust upon me anew

by an incident that occurred almost at the moment of the founding of the

Women's Social and Political Union. In our Parliament no bill has a

chance of becoming a law unless it is made a Government measure. Private

members are at liberty to introduce measures of their own, but these

rarely reach the second reading, or debatable stage. So much time is

given to discussion of Government measures that very little time can be

given to any private bills. About one day in a week is given over to

consideration of private measures, to which, as we say, the Government

give facilities; and since there are a limited number of weeks in a

session, the members, on the opening days of Parliament, meet and draw

lots to determine who shall have a place in the debates. Only these

successful men have a chance to speak to their bills, and only those who

have drawn early chances have any prospect of getting much discussion on

their measures.

Now, the old suffragists had long since given up hope of obtaining a

Government suffrage bill, but they clung to a hope that a private

member's bill would some time obtain consideration. Every year, on the

opening day of Parliament, the association sent a deputation of women to

the House of Commons, to meet so-called friendly members and consider

the position of the women's suffrage cause. The ceremony was of a most

conventional, not to say farcical character. The ladies made their

speeches and the members made theirs. The ladies thanked the friendly

members for their sympathy, and the members renewed their assurances

that they believed in women's suffrage and would vote for it when they

had an opportunity to do so. Then the deputation, a trifle sad but

entirely tranquil, took its departure, and the members resumed the real

business of life, which was support of their party's policies.

Such a ceremony as this I attended soon after the founding of the

W. S. P. U. Sir Charles M'Laren was the friendly member who presided

over the gathering, and he did his full duty in the matter of formally

endorsing the cause of women's suffrage. He assured the delegation of

his deep regret, as well as the regret of numbers of his colleagues,

that women so intelligent, so devoted, etc., should remain

unenfranchised. Other members did likewise. The ceremonies drew to a

close, but I, who had not been asked to speak, determined to add

something to the occasion.

"Sir Charles M'Laren," I began abruptly, "has told us that numbers of

his colleagues desire the success of the women's suffrage cause. Now

every one of us knows that at this moment the members of the House of

Commons are balloting for a place in the debates. Will Sir Charles

M'Laren tell us if any member is preparing to introduce a bill for

women's suffrage? Will he tell us what he and the other members will

pledge themselves to _do_ for the reform they so warmly endorse?"

Of course, the embarrassed Sir Charles was not prepared to tell us

anything of the kind, and the deputation departed in confusion and

wrath. I was told that I was an interloper, an impertinent intruder. Who

asked me to say anything? And what right had I to step in and ruin the

good impression they had made? No one could tell how many friendly

members I had alienated by my unfortunate remarks.

I went back to Manchester and with renewed energy continued the work of

organising for the W. S. P. U.

In the spring of 1904 I went to the annual conference of the Independent

Labour Party, determined if possible to induce the members to prepare a

suffrage bill to be laid before Parliament in the approaching session.

Although I was a member of the National Administrative Council and

presumably a person holding some influence in the party, I knew that my

plan would be bitterly opposed by a strong minority, who held that the

Labour Party should direct all its efforts toward securing universal

adult suffrage for both men and women. Theoretically, of course, a

Labour party could not be satisfied with anything less than universal

adult suffrage, but it was clear that no such sweeping reform could be

effected at that time, unless indeed the Government made it one of their

measures. Besides, while a large majority of members of the House of

Commons were pledged to support a bill giving women equal franchise

rights with men, it was doubtful whether a majority could be relied upon

to support a bill giving adult suffrage, even to men. Such a bill, even

if it were a Government measure, would probably be difficult of passage.

After considerable discussion, the National Council decided to adopt the

original Women's Enfranchisement Bill, drafted by Dr. Pankhurst, and

advanced in 1870 to its second reading in the House of Commons. The

Council's decision was approved by an overwhelming majority of the

conference.

The new session of Parliament, so eagerly looked forward to, met on

February 13, 1905. I went down from Manchester, and with my daughter

Sylvia, then a student at the Royal College of Art, South Kensington,

spent eight days in the Strangers' Lobby of the House of Commons,

working for the suffrage bill. We interviewed every one of the members

who had pledged themselves to support a suffrage bill when it should be

introduced, but we found not one single member who would agree that his

chance in the ballot, if he drew such a chance, should be given to

introducing the bill. Every man had some other measure he was anxious to

further. Mr. Keir Hardie had previously given us his pledge, but his

name, as we had feared, was not drawn in the ballot. We next set out to

interview all the men whose names had been drawn, and we finally induced

Mr. Bamford Slack, who held the fourteenth place, to introduce our bill.

The fourteenth place was not a good one, but it served, and the second

reading of our bill was set down for Friday, May 12th, the second order

of the day.

This being the first suffrage bill in eight years, a thrill of

excitement animated not only our ranks but all the old suffrage

societies. Meetings were held, and a large number of petitions

circulated. When the day came for consideration on our bill, the

Strangers' Lobby could not hold the enormous gathering of women of all

classes, rich and poor, who flocked to the House of Commons. It was

pitiful to see the look of hope and joy that shone on the faces of many

of these women. We knew that our poor little measure had the very

slightest chance of being passed. The bill that occupied the first order

of the day was one providing that carts travelling along public roads at

night should carry a light behind as well as before. We had tried to

induce the promoters of this unimportant little measure to withdraw it

in the interests of our bill, but they refused. We had tried also to

persuade the Conservative Government to give our bill facilities for

full discussion, but they also refused. So, as we fully anticipated,

the promoters of the Roadway Lighting Bill were allowed to "talk out"

our bill. They did this by spinning out the debate with silly stories

and foolish jokes. The members listened to the insulting performance

with laughter and applause.

When news of what was happening reached the women who waited in the

Strangers' Lobby, a feeling of wild excitement and indignation took

possession of the throng. Seeing their temper, I felt that the moment

had come for a demonstration such as no old-fashioned suffragist had

ever attempted. I called upon the women to follow me outside for a

meeting of protest against the government. We swarmed out into the open,

and Mrs. Wolstenholm-Elmy, one of the oldest suffrage workers in

England, began to speak. Instantly the police rushed into the crowd of

women, pushing them about and ordering them to disperse. We moved on as

far as the great statue of Richard Coeur de Lion that guards the

entrance to the House of Lords, but again the police intervened. Finally

the police agreed to let us hold a meeting in Broad Sanctuary, very near

the gates of Westminster Abbey. Here we made speeches and adopted a

resolution condemning the Government's action in allowing a small

minority to talk out our bill. This was the first militant act of the

W. S. P. U. It caused comment and even some alarm, but the police

contented themselves with taking our names.

The ensuing summer was spent in outdoor work. By this time the Women's

Social and Political Union had acquired some valuable accessions, and

money began to come to us. Among our new members was one who was

destined to play an important role in the unfolding drama of the

militant movement. At the close of one of our meetings at Oldham a young

girl introduced herself to me as Annie Kenney, a mill-worker, and a

strong suffrage sympathiser. She wanted to know more of our society and

its objects, and I invited her and her sister Jenny, a Board School

teacher, to tea the next day. They came and joined our Union, a step

that definitely changed the whole course of Miss Kenney's life, and gave

us one of our most distinguished leaders and organisers. With her help

we began to carry our propaganda to an entirely new public.

In Lancashire there is an institution known as the Wakes, a sort of

travelling fair where they have merry-go-rounds, Aunt-Sallies, and other

festive games, side-shows of various kinds, and booths where all kinds

of things are sold. Every little village has its Wakes-week during the

summer and autumn, and it is the custom for the inhabitants of the

villages to spend the Sunday before the opening of the Wakes walking

among the booths in anticipation of tomorrow's joys. On these occasions

the Salvation Army, temperance orators, venders of quack medicines,

pedlars, and others, take advantage of the ready-made audience to

advance their propaganda. At Annie Kenney's suggestion we went from one

village to the other, following the Wakes and making suffrage speeches.

We soon rivalled in popularity the Salvation Army, and even the

tooth-drawers and patent-medicine pedlars.

The Women's Social and Political Union had been in existence two years

before any opportunity was presented for work on a national scale. The

autumn of 1905 brought a political situation which seemed to us to

promise bright hopes for women's enfranchisement. The life of the old

Parliament, dominated for nearly twenty years by the Conservative Party,

was drawing to an end, and the country was on the eve of a general

election in which the Liberals hoped to be returned to power. Quite

naturally the Liberal candidates went to the country with perfervid

promises of reform in every possible direction. They appealed to the

voters to return them, as advocates and upholders of true democracy, and

they promised that there should be a Government united in favour of

people's rights against the powers of a privileged aristocracy.

Now repeated experiences had taught us that the only way to attain

women's suffrage was to commit a Government to it. In other words,

pledges of support from candidates were plainly useless. They were not

worth having. The only object worth trying for was pledges from

responsible leaders that the new Government would make women's suffrage

a part of the official programme. We determined to address ourselves to

those men who were likely to be in the Liberal Cabinet, demanding to

know whether their reforms were going to include justice to women.

We laid our plans to begin this work at a great meeting to be held in

Free Trade Hall, Manchester, with Sir Edward Grey as the principal

speaker. We intended to get seats in the gallery, directly facing the

platform and we made for the occasion a large banner with the words:

"Will the Liberal Party Give Votes for Women?" We were to let this

banner down over the gallery rails at the moment when our speaker rose

to put the question to Sir Edward Grey. At the last moment, however, we

had to alter the plan because it was impossible to get the gallery seats

we wanted. There was no way in which we could use our large banner, so,

late in the afternoon on the day of the meeting, we cut out and made a

small banner with the three-word inscription: "Votes for Women." Thus,

quite accidentally, there came into existence the present slogan of the

suffrage movement around the world.

Annie Kenney and my daughter Christabel were charged with the mission of

questioning Sir Edward Grey. They sat quietly through the meeting, at

the close of which questions were invited. Several questions were asked

by men and were courteously answered. Then Annie Kenney arose and asked:

"If the Liberal party is returned to power, will they take steps to give

votes for women?" At the same time Christabel held aloft the little

banner that every one in the hall might understand the nature of the

question. Sir Edward Grey returned no answer to Annie's question, and

the men sitting near her forced her rudely into her seat, while a

steward of the meeting pressed his hat over her face. A babel of

shouts, cries and catcalls sounded from all over the hall.

As soon as order was restored Christabel stood up and repeated the

question: "Will the Liberal Government, if returned, give votes to

women?" Again Sir Edward Grey ignored the question, and again a perfect

tumult of shouts and angry cries arose. Mr. William Peacock, chief

constable of Manchester, left the platform and came down to the women,

asking them to write their question, which he promised to hand to the

speaker. They wrote: "Will the Liberal Government give votes to

working-women? Signed, on behalf of the Women's Social and Political

Union, Annie Kenney, member of the Oldham committee of the card-and

blowing-room operatives." They added a line to say that, as one of

96,000 organised women textile-workers, Annie Kenney earnestly desired

an answer to the question.

Mr. Peacock kept his word and handed the question to Sir Edward Grey,

who read it, smiled, and passed it to the others on the platform. They

also read it with smiles, but no answer to the question was made. Only

one lady who was sitting on the platform tried to say something, but the

chairman interrupted by asking Lord Durham to move a vote of thanks to

the speaker. Mr. Winston Churchill seconded the motion, Sir Edward Grey

replied briefly, and the meeting began to break up. Annie Kenney stood

up in her chair and cried out over the noise of shuffling feet and

murmurs of conversation: "Will the Liberal Government give votes to

women?" Then the audience became a mob. They howled, they shouted and

roared, shaking their fists fiercely at the woman who dared to intrude

her question into a man's meeting. Hands were lifted to drag her out of

her chair, but Christabel threw one arm about her as she stood, and with

the other arm warded off the mob, who struck and scratched at her until

her sleeve was red with blood. Still the girls held together and shouted

over and over: "The question! The question! Answer the question!"

Six men, stewards of the meeting, seized Christabel and dragged her down

the aisle, past the platform, other men following with Annie Kenney,

both girls still calling for an answer to their question. On the

platform the Liberal leaders sat silent and unmoved while this

disgraceful scene was taking place, and the mob were shouting and

shrieking from the floor.

Flung into the streets, the two girls staggered to their feet and began

to address the crowds, and to tell them what had taken place in a

Liberal meeting. Within five minutes they were arrested on a charge of

obstruction and, in Christabel's case, of assaulting the police. Both

were summonsed to appear next morning in a police court, where, after a

trial which was a mere farce, Annie Kenney was sentenced to pay a fine

of five shillings, with an alternative of three days in prison, and

Christabel Pankhurst was given a fine of ten shillings or a jail

sentence of one week.

Both girls promptly chose the prison sentence. As soon as they left the

court-room I hurried around to the room where they were waiting, and I

said to my daughter: "You have done everything you could be expected to

do in this matter. I think you should let me pay your fines and take you

home." Without waiting for Annie Kenney to speak, my daughter exclaimed:

"Mother, if you pay my fine I will never go home." Before going to the

meeting she had said, "We will get our question answered or sleep in

prison to-night." I now knew her courage remained unshaken.

Of course the affair created a tremendous sensation, not only in

Manchester, where my husband had been so well known and where I had so

long held public office, but all over England. The comments of the press

were almost unanimously bitter. Ignoring the perfectly well-established

fact that men in every political meeting ask questions and demand

answers of the speakers, the newspapers treated the action of the two

girls as something quite unprecedented and outrageous. They generally

agreed that great leniency had been shown them. Fines and jail-sentences

were too good for such unsexed creatures. "The discipline of the

nursery" would have been far more appropriate. One Birmingham paper

declared that "if any argument were required against giving ladies

political status and power it had been furnished in Manchester."

Newspapers which had heretofore ignored the whole subject now hinted

that while they had formerly been in favour of women's suffrage, they

could no longer countenance it. The Manchester incident, it was said,

had set the cause back, perhaps irrevocably.

This is how it set the cause back. Scores of people wrote to the

newspapers expressing sympathy with the women. The wife of Sir Edward

Grey told her friends that she considered them quite justified in the

means they had taken. It was stated that Winston Churchill, nervous

about his own candidacy in Manchester, visited Strangeways Gaol, where

the two girls were imprisoned, and vainly begged the governor to allow

him to pay their fines. On October 20, when the prisoners were released,

they were given an immense demonstration in Free-Trade Hall, the very

hall from which they had been ejected the week before. The Women's

Social and Political Union received a large number of new members. Above

all, the question of women's suffrage became at once a live topic of

comment from one end of Great Britain to the other.

We determined that from that time on the little "Votes For Women"

banners should appear wherever a prospective member of the Liberal

Government rose to speak, and that there should be no more peace until

the women's question was answered. We clearly perceived that the new

Government, calling themselves Liberal, were reactionary so far as women

were concerned, that they were hostile to women's suffrage, and would

have to be fought until they were conquered, or else driven from office.

We did not begin to fight, however, until we had given the new

Government every chance to give us the pledge we wanted. Early in

December the Conservative Government had gone out, and Sir Henry

Campbell-Bannerman, the Liberal leader, had formed a new Cabinet. On

December 21 a great meeting was held in Royal Albert Hall, London, where

Sir Henry, surrounded by his cabinet, made his first utterance as Prime

Minister. Previous to the meeting we wrote to Sir Henry and asked him,

in the name of the Women's Social and Political Union, whether the

Liberal Government would give women the vote. We added that our

representatives would be present at the meeting, and we hoped that the

Prime Minister would publicly answer the question. Otherwise we should

be obliged publicly to protest against his silence.

Of course Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman returned no reply, nor did his

speech contain any allusion to women's suffrage. So, at the conclusion,

Annie Kenney, whom we had smuggled into the hall in disguise, whipped

out her little white calico banner, and called out in her clear, sweet

voice: "Will the Liberal Government give women the vote?"

At the same moment Theresa Billington let drop from a seat directly

above the platform a huge banner with the words: "Will the Liberal

Government give justice to working-women?" Just for a moment there was a

gasping silence, the people waiting to see what the Cabinet Ministers

would do. They did nothing. Then, in the midst of uproar and conflicting

shouts, the women were seized and flung out of the hall.

This was the beginning of a campaign the like of which was never known

in England, or, for that matter, in any other country. If we had been

strong enough we should have opposed the election of every Liberal

candidate, but being limited both in funds and in members we

concentrated on one member of the Government, Mr. Winston Churchill. Not

that we had any animus against Mr. Churchill. We chose him simply

because he was the only important candidate standing for constituencies

within reach of our headquarters. We attended every meeting addressed by

Mr. Churchill. We heckled him unmercifully; we spoiled his best points

by flinging back such obvious retorts that the crowds roared with

laughter. We lifted out little white banners from unexpected corners of

the hall, exactly at the moment when an interruption was least desired.

Sometimes our banners were torn from our hands and trodden under foot.

Sometimes, again, the crowds were with us, and we actually broke up the

meeting. We did not succeed in defeating Mr. Churchill, but he was

returned by a very small majority, the smallest of any of the Manchester

Liberal candidates.

We did not confine our efforts to heckling Mr. Churchill. Throughout the

campaign we kept up the work of questioning Cabinet Ministers at

meetings all over England and Scotland. At Sun Hall, Liverpool,

addressed by the Prime Minister, nine women in succession asked the

important question, and were thrown out of the hall; this in the face of

the fact that Sir Campbell-Bannerman was an avowed suffragist. But we

were not questioning him as to his private opinions on the suffrage; we

were asking him what his Government were willing to do about suffrage.

We questioned Mr. Asquith in Sheffield, Mr. Lloyd-George in Altrincham,

Cheshire, the Prime Minister again in Glasgow, and we interrupted a

great many other meetings as well. Always we were violently thrown out

and insulted. Often we were painfully bruised and hurt.

What good did it do? We have often been asked that question, even by the

women our actions spurred into an activity they had never before thought

themselves capable of. For one thing, our heckling campaign made women's

suffrage a matter of news--it had never been that before. Now the

newspapers were full of us. For another thing, we woke up the old

suffrage associations. During the general election various groups of

non-militant suffragists came back to life and organised a gigantic

manifesto in favour of action from the Liberal Government. Among others,

the manifesto was signed by the Women's Co-operative Guild with nearly

21,000 members; the Women's Liberal Federation, with 76,000 members; the

Scottish Women's Liberal Federation, with 15,000 members; the

North-of-England Weavers' Association, with 100,000 members; the British

Women's Temperance Association, with nearly 110,000 members; and the

Independent Labour Party with 20,000 members. Surely it was something to

have inspired all this activity.

We decided that the next step must be to carry the fight to London, and

Annie Kenney was chosen to be organiser there. With only two pounds,

less than ten dollars, in her pocket the intrepid girl set forth on her

mission. In about a fortnight I left my official work as registrar in

the hands of a deputy and went down to London to see what had been

accomplished. To my astonishment I found that Annie, working with my

daughter Sylvia, had organised a procession of women and a demonstration

to be held on the opening day of Parliament. The confident young things

had actually engaged Caxton Hall, Westminster; they had had printed a

large number of handbills to announce the meeting, and they were busily

engaged in working up the demonstration. Mrs. Drummond, who had joined

the Union shortly after the imprisonment of Annie Kenney and Christabel,

sent word from Manchester that she was coming to help us. She had to

borrow the money for her railroad-fare, but she came, and, as ever

before and since, her help was invaluable.

How we worked, distributing handbills, chalking announcements of the

meeting on pavements, calling on every person we knew and on a great

many more we knew only by name, canvassing from door to door!

At length the opening day of Parliament arrived. On February 19, 1906,

occurred the first suffrage procession in London. I think there were

between three and four hundred women in that procession, poor

working-women from the East End, for the most part, leading the way in

which numberless women of every rank were afterward to follow. My eyes

were misty with tears as I saw them, standing in line, holding the

simple banners which my daughter Sylvia had decorated, waiting for the

word of command. Of course our procession attracted a large crowd of

intensely amused spectators. The police, however, made no attempt to

disperse our ranks, but merely ordered us to furl our banners. There

was no reason why we should not have carried banners but the fact that

we were women, and therefore could be bullied. So, bannerless, the

procession entered Caxton Hall. To my amazement it was filled with

women, most of whom I had never seen at any suffrage gathering before.

Our meeting was most enthusiastic, and while Annie Kenney was speaking,

to frequent applause, the news came to me that the King's speech (which

is not the King's at all, but the formally announced Government

programme for the session) had been read, and that there was in it no

mention of the women's suffrage question. As Annie took her seat I arose

and made this announcement, and I moved a resolution that the meeting

should at once proceed to the House of Commons to urge the members to

introduce a suffrage measure. The resolution was carried, and we rushed

out in a body and hurried toward the Strangers' Entrance. It was pouring

rain and bitterly cold, yet no one turned back, even when we learned at

the entrance that for the first time in memory the doors of the House of

Commons were barred to women. We sent in our cards to members who were

personal friends, and some of them came out and urged our admittance.

The police, however, were obdurate. They had their orders. The Liberal

government, advocates of the people's rights, had given orders that

women should no longer set foot in their stronghold.

Pressure from members proved too great, and the government relented to

the extent of allowing twenty women at a time to enter the lobby.

Through all the rain and cold those hundreds of women waited for hours

their turn to enter. Some never got in, and for those of us who did

there was small satisfaction. Not a member could be persuaded to take up

our cause.

Out of the disappointment and dejection of that experience I yet reaped

a richer harvest of happiness than I had ever known before. Those women

had followed me to the House of Commons. They had defied the police.

They were awake at last. They were prepared to do something that women

had never done before--fight for themselves. Women had always fought for

men, and for their children. Now they were ready to fight for their own

human rights. Our militant movement was established.

CHAPTER IV

To account for the phenomenal growth of the Women's Social and Political

Union after it was established in London, to explain why it made such an

instant appeal to women hitherto indifferent, I shall have to point out

exactly wherein our society differs from all other suffrage

associations. In the first place, our members are absolutely single

minded; they concentrate all their forces on one object, political

equality with men. No member of the W. S. P. U. divides her attention

between suffrage and other social reforms. We hold that both reason and

justice dictate that women shall have a share in reforming the evils

that afflict society, especially those evils bearing directly on women

themselves. Therefore, we demand, before any other legislation whatever,

the elementary justice of votes for women.

There is not the slightest doubt that the women of Great Britain would

have been enfranchised years ago had all the suffragists adopted this

simple principle. They never did, and even to-day many English women

refuse to adopt it. They are party members first and suffragists

afterward; or they are suffragists part of the time and social theorists

the rest of the time. We further differ from other suffrage

associations, or from others existing in 1906, in that we clearly

perceived the political situation that solidly interposed between us and

our enfranchisement.

For seven years we had had a majority in the House of Commons pledged to

vote favourably on a suffrage bill. The year before, they had voted

favourably on one, yet that bill did not become law. Why? Because even

an overwhelming majority of private members are powerless to enact law

in the face of a hostile Government of eleven cabinet ministers. The

private member of Parliament was once possessed of individual power and

responsibility, but Parliamentary usage and a changed conception of

statesmanship have gradually lessened the functions of members. At the

present time their powers, for all practical purposes, are limited to

helping to enact such measures as the Government introduces or, in rare

instances, private measures approved by the Government. It is true that

the House can revolt, can, by voting a lack of confidence in the

Government, force them to resign. But that almost never happens, and it

is less likely now than formerly to happen. Figureheads don't revolt.

This, then, was our situation: the Government all-powerful and

consistently hostile; the rank and file of legislators impotent; the

country apathetic; the women divided in their interests. The Women's

Social and Political Union was established to meet this situation, and

to overcome it. Moreover we had a policy which, if persisted in long

enough, could not possibly fail to overcome it. Do you wonder that we

gained new members at every meeting we held?

There was little formality about joining the Union. Any woman could

become a member by paying a shilling, but at the same time she was

required to sign a declaration of loyal adherence to our policy and a

pledge not to work for any political party until the women's vote was

won. This is still our inflexible custom. Moreover, if at any time a

member, or a group of members, loses faith in our policy; if any one

begins to suggest, that some other policy ought to be substituted, or if

she tries to confuse the issue by adding other policies, she ceases at

once to be a member. Autocratic? Quite so. But, you may object, a

suffrage organisation ought to be democratic. Well the members of the

W. S. P. U. do not agree with you. We do not believe in the

effectiveness of the ordinary suffrage organisation. The W. S. P. U. is

not hampered by a complexity of rules. We have no constitution and

by-laws; nothing to be amended or tinkered with or quarrelled over at an

annual meeting. In fact, we have no annual meeting, no business

sessions, no elections of officers. The W. S. P. U. is simply a suffrage

army in the field. It is purely a volunteer army, and no one is obliged

to remain in it. Indeed we don't want anybody to remain in it who does

not ardently believe in the policy of the army.

The foundation of our policy is opposition to a Government who refuse

votes to women. To support by word or deed a Government hostile to woman

suffrage is simply to invite them to go on being hostile. We oppose the

Liberal party because it is in power. We would oppose a Unionist

government if it were in power and were opposed to woman suffrage. We

say to women that as long as they remain in the ranks of the Liberal

party they give their tacit approval to the Government's anti-suffrage

policy. We say to members of Parliament that as long as they support any

of the Government's policies they give their tacit approval to the

anti-suffrage policy. We call upon all sincere suffragists to leave the

Liberal party until women are given votes on equal terms with men. We

call upon all voters to vote against Liberal candidates until the

Liberal Government does justice to women.

We did not invent this policy. It was most successfully pursued by Mr.

Parnell in his Home Rule struggle more than thirty-five years ago. Any

one who is old enough to remember the stirring days of Parnell may

recall how, in 1885, the Home Rulers, by persistently voting against the

Government in the House of Commons, forced the resignation of Mr.

Gladstone and his Cabinet. In the general election which followed, the

Liberal party was again returned to power, but by the slender majority

of eighty-four, the Home Rulers having fought every Liberal candidate,

even those, who, like my husband, were enthusiastic believers in Home

Rule. In order to control the House and keep his leadership, Mr.

Gladstone was obliged to bring in a Government Home Rule Bill. The

downfall, through private intrigue, and the subsequent death of Parnell

prevented the bill from becoming law. For many years afterward the Irish

Nationalists had no leader strong enough to carry on Parnell's

anti-government policy, but within late years it was resumed by Mr.

James Redmond, with the result that the Commons passed a Home Rule

Bill.

The contention of the old-fashioned suffragists, and of the politicians

as well, has always been that an educated public opinion will ultimately

give votes to women without any great force being exerted in behalf of

the reform. We agree that public opinion must be educated, but we

contend that even an educated public opinion is useless unless it is

vigorously utilised. The keenest weapon is powerless unless it is

courageously wielded. In the year 1906 there was an immensely large

public opinion in favour of woman suffrage. But what good did that do

the cause? We called upon the public for a great deal more than

sympathy. We called upon it to demand of the Government to yield to

public opinion and give women votes. And we declared that we would wage

war, not only on all anti-suffrage forces, but on all neutral and

non-active forces. Every man with a vote was considered a foe to woman

suffrage unless he was prepared to be actively a friend.

Not that we believed that the campaign of education ought to be given

up. On the contrary, we knew that education must go on, and in much more

vigorous fashion than ever before. The first thing we did was to enter

upon a sensational campaign to arouse the public to the importance of

woman suffrage, and to interest it in our plans for forcing the

Government's hands. I think we can claim that our success in this regard

was instant, and that it has proved permanent. From the very first, in

those early London days, when we were few in numbers and very poor in

purse, we made the public aware of the woman suffrage movement as it had

never been before. We adopted Salvation Army methods and went out into

the highways and the byways after converts. We threw away all our

conventional notions of what was "ladylike" and "good form," and we

applied to our methods the one test question, Will it help? Just as the

Booths and their followers took religion to the street crowds in such

fashion that the church people were horrified, so we took suffrage to

the general public in a manner that amazed and scandalised the other

suffragists.

We had a lot of suffrage literature printed, and day by day our members

went forth and held street meetings. Selecting a favourable spot, with a

chair for a rostrum, one of us would ring a bell until people began to

stop to see what was going to happen. What happened, of course, was a

lively suffrage speech, and the distribution of literature. Soon after

our campaign had started, the sound of the bell was a signal for a crowd

to spring up as if by magic. All over the neighbourhood you heard the

cry: "Here are the Suffragettes! Come on!" We covered London in this

way; we never lacked an audience, and best of all, an audience to which

the woman-suffrage doctrine was new. We were increasing our favourable

public as well as waking it up. Besides these street meetings, we held

many hall and drawing-room meetings, and we got a great deal of press

publicity, which was something never accorded the older suffrage

methods.

Our plans included the introduction of a Government suffrage bill at

the earliest possible moment, and in the spring of 1906 we sent a

deputation of about thirty of our members to interview the Prime

Minister, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman. The Prime Minister, it was

stated, was not at home; so in a few days we sent another deputation.

This time the servant agreed to carry our request to the Prime Minister.

The women waited patiently on the doorstep of the official residence,

No. 10 Downing Street, for nearly an hour. Then the door opened and two

men appeared. One of the men addressed the leader of the deputation,

roughly ordering her and the others to leave. "We have sent a message to

the Prime Minister," she replied, "and we are waiting for the answer."

"There will be no answer," was the stern rejoinder, and the door closed.

"Yes, there will be an answer," exclaimed the leader, and she seized the

door-knocker and banged it sharply. Instantly the men reappeared, and

one of them called to a policeman standing near, "Take this woman in

charge." The order was obeyed, and the peaceful deputation saw its

leader taken off to Canon Row Station.

Instantly the women protested vigorously. Annie Kenney began to address

the crowd that had gathered, and Mrs. Drummond actually forced her way

past the doorkeeper into the sacred residence of the Prime Minister of

the British Empire! Her arrest and Annie's followed. The three women

were detained at the police station for about an hour, long enough, the

Prime Minister probably thought, to frighten them thoroughly and teach

them not to do such dreadful things again. Then he sent them word that

he had decided not to prosecute them, but would, on the contrary,

receive a deputation from the W. S. P. U., and, if they cared to attend,

from other suffrage societies as well.

All the suffrage organisations at once began making preparations for the

great event. At the same time two hundred members of Parliament sent a

petition to the Prime Minister, asking him to receive their committee

that they might urge upon him the necessity of a Government measure for

woman suffrage. Sir Henry fixed May 19th as the day on which he would

receive a joint deputation from Parliament and from the women's suffrage

organisations.

The W. S. P. U. determined to make the occasion as public as possible,

and began preparations for a procession and a demonstration. When the

day came we assembled at the foot of the beautiful monument to the

warrior-queen, Boadicea, that guards the entrance to Westminster Bridge,

and from there we marched to the Foreign Office. At the meeting eight

women spoke in behalf of an immediate suffrage measure, and Mr. Keir

Hardie presented the argument for the suffrage members of Parliament. I

spoke for the W. S. P. U., and I tried to make the Prime Minister see

that no business could be more pressing than ours. I told him that the

group of women organised in our Union felt so strongly the necessity for

women enfranchisement that they were prepared to sacrifice for it

everything they possessed, their means of livelihood, their very lives,

if necessary. I begged him to make such a sacrifice needless by doing us

justice now.

What answer do you think Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman made us? He

assured us of his sympathy with our cause, his belief in its justice,

and his confidence in our fitness to vote. And then he told us to have

patience and wait; he could do nothing for us because some of his

Cabinet were opposed to us. After a few more words the usual vote of

thanks was moved, and the deputation was dismissed. I had not expected

anything better, but it wrung my heart to see the bitter disappointment

of the W. S. P. U. women who had waited in the street to hear from the

leaders the result of the deputation. We held a great meeting of protest

that afternoon, and determined to carry on our agitation with increased

vigor.

Now that it had been made plain that the Government were resolved not to

bring in a suffrage bill, there was nothing to do but to continue our

policy of waking up the country, not only by public speeches and

demonstrations, but by a constant heckling of Cabinet Ministers. Since

the memorable occasion when Christabel Pankhurst and Annie Kenney were

thrown out of Sir Edward Grey's meeting in Manchester, and afterward

imprisoned for the crime of asking a courteous question, we had not lost

an opportunity of addressing the same question to every Cabinet Minister

we could manage to encounter. For this we have been unmercifully

criticised, and in a large number of cases most brutally handled.

In almost every one of my American meetings I was asked the question,

"What good do you expect to accomplish by interrupting meetings?" Is it

possible that the time-honoured, almost sacred English privilege of

interrupting is unknown in America? I cannot imagine a political meeting

from which "the Voice" was entirely absent. In England it is invariably

present. It is considered the inalienable right of the opposition to

heckle the speaker and to hurl questions at him which are calculated to

spoil his arguments. For instance, when Liberals attend a Conservative

gathering they go prepared to shatter by witticisms and pointed

questions all the best effects of the Conservative orators. The next day

you will read in Liberal newspapers headlines like these: "The Voice in

Fine Form," "Short Shrift for Tory Twaddle," "Awkward Answers from the

Enemy's Platform." In the body of the article you will learn that "Lord

X found that the Liberals at his meeting were more than a match for

him," that "there was continued interruption during Sir So-and-so's

speech," that "Lord M fared badly last night in his encounter with the

Voice," or that "Captain Z had the greatest difficulty in making himself

heard."

In accordance with this custom we heckle Cabinet Ministers. Mr. Winston

Churchill, for example, is speaking. "One great question," he exclaims,

"remains to be settled."

"And that is woman suffrage," shouts a voice from the gallery.

Mr. Churchill struggles on with his speech: "The men have been

complaining of me----"

"The women have been complaining of you, too, Mr. Churchill," comes

back promptly from the back of the hall.

"In the circumstances what can we do but----"

"Give votes to women."

Our object, of course, is to keep woman suffrage in the foreground of

interest and to insist on every possible occasion that no other reform

advocated is of such immediate importance.

From the first the women's interruptions have been resented with

unreasoning anger. I remember hearing Mr. Lloyd-George saying once of a

man who interrupted him:

"Let him remain. I like interruptions. They show that people holding

different opinions to mine are present, giving me a chance to convert

them." But when suffragists interrupt Mr. Lloyd-George he says something

polite like this: "Pay no attention to those cats mewing."

Some of the ministers are more well bred in their expressions, but all

are disdainful and resentful. All see with approval the brutal ejection

of the women by the Liberal stewards.

At one meeting where Mr. Lloyd-George was speaking, we interrupted with

a question, and he claimed the sympathy of the audience on the score

that he was a friend to woman suffrage. "Then why don't you do something

to give votes to women?" was the obvious retort. But Mr. Lloyd-George

evaded this by the counter query: "Why don't they go for their enemies?

Why don't they go for their greatest enemy?" Instantly, all over the

hall, voices shouted, "Asquith! Asquith!" For even at that early day it

was known that the then Chancellor of the Exchequer was a stern foe of

women's independence.

In the summer of 1906, together with other members of the W. S. P. U., I

went to Northampton, where Mr. Asquith was holding a large meeting in

behalf of the Government's education bills. We organised a number of

outdoor meetings, and of course prepared to attend Mr. Asquith's

meeting. In conversation with the president of the local Women's Liberal

Association, I mentioned the fact that we expected to be put out, and

she indignantly declared that such a thing could not happen in

Northampton, where the women had done so much for the Liberal party. I

told her that I hoped she would be at the meeting.

I had not intended to go myself, my plans being to hold a meeting of my

own outside the door. But our members, before Mr. Asquith began to

speak, attempted to question him, and were thrown out with violence. So

then, turning my meeting over to them, I slipped quietly into the hall

and sat down in the front row of a division set apart for wives and

women friends of the Liberal leaders. I sat there in silence, hearing

men interrupt the speaker and get answers to their questions. At the

close of the speech I stood up and, addressing the chairman, said: "I

should like to ask Mr. Asquith a question about education." The chairman

turned inquiringly to Mr. Asquith, who frowningly shook his head. But

without waiting for the chairman to say a word, I continued: "Mr.

Asquith has said that the parents of children have a right to be

consulted in the matter of their children's education, especially upon

such questions as the kind of religious instruction they should receive.

Women are parents. Does not Mr. Asquith think that women should have the

right to control their children's education, as men do, through the

vote?" At this point the stewards seized me by the arms and shoulders

and rushed me, or rather dragged me, for I soon lost my footing, to the

door and threw me out of the building.

The effect on the president of the Northampton Women's Liberal

Association was most salutary. She resigned her office and became a

member of the W. S. P. U. Perhaps her action was influenced further by

the press reports of the incident. Mr. Asquith was reported as saying,

after my ejection, that it was difficult to enter into the minds of

people who thought they could serve a cause which professed to appeal to

the reason of the electors of the country by disturbing public meetings.

Apparently he could enter into the minds of the men who disturbed public

meetings.

To our custom of public heckling of the responsible members of the

hostile Government we added the practice of sending deputations to them

for the purpose of presenting orderly arguments in favour of our cause.

After Mr. Asquith had shown himself so uninformed as to the objects of

the suffragists, we decided to ask him to receive a deputation from the

W. S. P. U. To our polite letter Mr. Asquith returned a cold refusal to

be interviewed on any subject not connected with his particular office.

Whereupon we wrote again, reminding Mr. Asquith that as a member of the

Government he was concerned with all questions likely to be dealt with

by Parliament. We said that we urgently desired to put our question

before him, and that we would send a deputation to his house hoping that

he would feel it his duty to receive us.

Our first deputation was told that Mr. Asquith was not at home. He had,

in fact, escaped from the house through the back door, and had sped away

in a fast motor-car. Two days later we sent a larger deputation, of

about thirty women, to his house in Cavendish Square. To be accurate,

the deputation got as near the house as the entrance to Cavendish

Square; there the women met a strong force of police, who told them that

they would not be permitted to go farther.

Many of the women were carrying little "Votes for Women" banners, and

these the police tore from them, in some cases with blows and insults.

Seeing this, the leader of the deputation cried out: "We will go

forward. You have no right to strike women like that." The reply, from a

policeman near her, was a blow in the face. She screamed with pain and

indignation, whereupon the man grasped her by the throat and choked her

against the park railings until she was blue in the face. The young

woman struggled and fought back, and for this she was arrested on a

charge of assaulting the police. Three other women were arrested, one

because, in spite of the police, she succeeded in ringing Mr. Asquith's

door-bell and another because she protested against the laughter of

some ladies who watched the affair from a drawing-room window. She was a

poor working-woman, and it seemed to her a terrible thing that rich and

protected women should ridicule a cause that to her was so profoundly

serious. The fourth woman was taken in charge, because after she had

been pushed off the pavement, she dared to step back. Charged with

disorderly conduct, these women were sentenced to six weeks in the

Second Division. They were given the option of a fine, it is true, but

the payment of a fine would have been an acknowledgment of guilt, which

made such a course impossible. The leader of the deputation was given a

two months' sentence, with the option of a fine of ten pounds. She, too,

refused to pay, and was sent to prison; but some unknown friend paid the

fine secretly, and she was released before the expiration of her

sentence.

About the time these things were happening in London, similar violence

was offered our women in Manchester, where John Burns, Lloyd-George, and

Winston Churchill, all three Cabinet Ministers, were addressing a great

Liberal demonstration. The women were there, as usual, to ask government

support for our measure. There, too, they were thrown out of the

meeting, and three of them were sent to prison.

There are people in England, plenty of them, who will tell you that the

Suffragettes were sent to prison for destroying property. The fact is

that hundreds of women were arrested for exactly such offences as I have

described before it ever occurred to any of us to destroy property. We

were determined, at the beginning of our movement, that we would make

ourselves heard, that we would force the Government to take up our

question and answer it by action in Parliament. Perhaps you will see

some parallel to our case in the stand taken in Massachusetts by the

early Abolitionists, Wendell Phillips and William Lloyd Garrison. They,

too, had to fight bitterly, to face insult and arrest, because they

insisted on being heard. And they were heard; and so, in time, were we.

I think we began to be noticed in earnest after our first success in

opposing a Liberal candidate. This was in a by-election held at

Cockermouth in August, 1906. I shall have to explain that a by-election

is a local election to fill a vacancy in Parliament caused by a death or

a resignation. The verdict of a by-election is considered as either an

indorsement or a censure of the manner in which the Government have

fulfilled their pre-election pledges. So we went to Cockermouth and told

the voters how the Liberal party had fulfilled its pledges of democracy

and lived up to its avowed belief in the rights of all the people. We

told them of the arrests in London and Manchester, of the shameful

treatment of women in Liberal meetings, and we asked them to censure the

Government who had answered so brutally our demand for a vote. We told

them that the only rebuke that the politicians would notice was a lost

seat in Parliament, and that on that ground we asked them to defeat the

Liberal candidate.

How we were ridiculed! With what scorn the newspapers declared that

"those wild women" could never turn a single vote. Yet when the

election was over it was found that the Liberal candidate had lost the

seat, which, at the general election a little more than a year before,

had been won by a majority of 655. This time the Unionist candidate was

returned by a majority of 609. Tremendously elated, we hurried our

forces off to another by-election.

Now the ridicule was turned to stormy abuse. Mind you, the Liberal

Government still refused to notice the women's question; they declared

through the Liberal press that the defeat at Cockermouth was

insignificant, and that anyhow it wasn't caused by the Suffragettes; yet

the Liberal leaders were furiously angry with the W. S. P. U. Many of

our members had been Liberals, and it was considered by the men that

these women were little better than traitors. They were very foolish and

ill-advised, into the bargain, the Liberals said, because the vote, if

won at all, must be gained from the Liberal party; and how did the women

suppose the Liberal party would ever give the vote to open and avowed

enemies? This sage argument was used also by the women Liberals and the

constitutional suffragists. They advised us that the proper way was to

work for the party. We retorted that we had done that unsuccessfully for

too many years already, and persisted with the opposite method of

persuasion.

Throughout the summer and autumn we devoted ourselves to the by-election

work, sometimes actually defeating the Liberal candidate, sometimes

reducing the Liberal majority, and always raising a tremendous sensation

and gaining hundreds of new members to the Union. In almost every

neighbourhood we visited we left the nucleus of a local union, so that

before the year was out we had branches all over England and many in

Scotland and Wales. I especially remember a by-election in Wales at

which Mr. Samuel Evans, who had accepted an officership under the Crown,

had to stand for re-election. Unfortunately no candidate had been

brought out against him. So there was nothing for my companions and me

to do but make his campaign as lively as possible. Mr.--now Sir

Samuel--Evans was the man who had incensed women by talking out a

suffrage resolution introduced into the House by Keir Hardie. So we went

to two of his meetings and literally talked him out, breaking up the

gatherings amid the laughter and cheers of delighted crowds.

On October 23d Parliament met for its autumn session, and we led a

deputation to the House of Commons in another effort to induce the

Government to take action on woman suffrage. In accordance with orders

given the police, only twenty of us were admitted to the Strangers'

Lobby. We sent in for the chief Liberal whip, and asked him to take a

message to the Prime Minister, the message being the usual request to

grant women the vote that session. We also asked the Prime Minister if

he intended to include the registration of qualified women voters in the

provisions of the plural voting bill, then under consideration. The

Liberal whip came back with the reply that nothing could be done for

women that session.

[Illustration: MRS. PANKHURST ADDRESSING A BY-ELECTION CROWD]

"Does the Prime Minister," I asked, "hold out any hope for the women

for any session during this Parliament, or at any future time?" The

Prime Minister, you will remember, called himself a suffragist.

The Liberal whip replied, "No, Mrs. Pankhurst, the Prime Minister does

not."

What would a deputation of unenfranchised men have done in these

circumstances--men who knew themselves to be qualified to exercise the

franchise, who desperately needed the protection of the franchise, and

who had a majority of legislators in favour of giving them the

franchise? I hope they would have done at least as much as we did, which

was to start a meeting of protest on the spot. The newspapers described

our action as creating a disgraceful scene in the lobby of the House of

Commons, but I think that history will otherwise describe it. One of the

women sprang up on a settee and began to address the crowd. In less than

a minute she was pulled down, but instantly another woman took her

place; and after she had been dragged down, still another sprang to her

place, and following her another and another, until the order came to

clear the lobby, and we were all forced outside.

In the melee I was thrown to the floor and painfully hurt. The women,

thinking me seriously injured, crowded around me and refused to move

until I was able to regain myself. This angered the police, who were

still more incensed when they found that the demonstration was continued

outside. Eleven women were arrested, including Mrs. Pethick Lawrence,

our treasurer, Mrs. Cobden Sanderson, Annie Kenney and three more of our

organisers; and they were all sent to Holloway for two months. But the

strength of our movement was proved by the number of volunteers who

immediately came forward to carry on the work. Mrs. Tuke, now Hon.

Secretary of the W. S. P. U., joined the Union at this time. It had not

occurred to the authorities that their action would have this effect.

They thought to crush the Union at a blow, but they gave it the greatest

impetus it had yet received. The leaders of the older suffrage

organisations for the time forgot their disapproval of our methods, and

joined with women writers, physicians, actresses, artists, and other

prominent women in denouncing the affair as barbarous.

One more thing the authorities failed to take into account. The

condition of English prisons was known to be very bad, but when two of

our women were made so ill in Holloway that they had to be released

within a few days, the politicians began to tremble for their prestige.

Questions were asked in Parliament concerning the advisability of

treating the Suffragettes not as common criminals but as political

offenders with the right to confinement in the First Division. Mr.

Herbert Gladstone, the Home Secretary, replied to these questions that

he had no power to interfere with the magistrates' decisions, and could

do nothing in the matter of the suffragettes' punishment. I shall ask

you to remember this statement of Mr. Herbert Gladstone's, as later we

were able to prove it a deliberate falsehood--although really the

falsehood proved itself when the women, by Government order, were

released from prison when they had served just half their sentences.

The reason for this was that an important by-election was being held in

the north of England, and we had distributed broadcast throughout the

constituency hand bills telling the electors that nine women, including

the daughter of Richard Cobden, were being held as common criminals by

the Liberal Government who were asking for their votes.

I took a group of the released prisoners to Huddersfield, and they told

prison stories to such effect that the Liberal majority was reduced by

540 votes. As usual the Liberal leaders denied that our work had

anything to do with the slender majority by which the party retained the

seat, but among our souvenirs is a handbill, one of thousands given out

from Liberal headquarters:

+------------------------------+

| MEN OF HUDDERSFIELD |

| DON'T BE MISLED |

| BY SOCIALISTS, SUFFRAGETTES |

| OR TORIES |

| VOTE FOR SHERWELL |

+------------------------------+

Meanwhile, other demonstrations had taken place before the House of

Commons, and at Christmas time twenty-one suffragettes were in Holloway

Prison, though they had committed no crime. The Government professed

themselves unmoved, and members of Parliament spoke with sneers of the

"self-made martyrs." However, a considerable group of members, strongly

moved by the passion and unquenchable ardor of this new order of

suffragists, met during the last week of the year and formed a

committee whose object it was to press upon the government the necessity

of giving the franchise to women during that Parliament. The committee

resolved that its members would work to educate a wider public opinion

on the question, and especially to advocate suffrage when addressing

meetings in their constituencies, to take Parliamentary action on every

possible occasion, and to induce as many members of Parliament as

possible to ballot for the introduction of a suffrage bill or motion

next session.

Our first year in London had borne wonderful fruits. We had grown from a

mere handful of women, a "family party" the newspapers had derisively

called us, to a strong organisation with branches all over the country,

permanent headquarters in Clements Inn, Strand; we had found good

financial backing, and above all, we had created a suffrage committee in

the House of Commons.

BOOK II

FOUR YEARS OF PEACEFUL MILITANCY

CHAPTER I

The campaign of 1907 began with a Women's Parliament, called together on

February 13th in Caxton Hall, to consider the provisions of the King's

speech, which had been read in the national Parliament on the opening

day of the session, February 12th. The King's speech, as I have

explained, is the official announcement of the Government's programme

for the session. When our Women's Parliament met at three o'clock on the

afternoon of the thirteenth we knew that the Government meant to do

nothing for women during the session ahead.

I presided over the women's meeting, which was marked with a fervency

and a determination of spirit at that time altogether unprecedented. A

resolution expressing indignation that woman suffrage should have been

omitted from the King's speech, and calling upon the House of Commons to

give immediate facilities to such a measure, was moved and carried. A

motion to send the resolution from the hall to the Prime Minister was

also carried. The slogan, "Rise up, women," was cried from the platform,

the answering shout coming back as from one woman, "Now!" With copies of

the resolution in their hands, the chosen deputation hurried forth into

the February dusk, ready for Parliament or prison, as the fates decreed.

Fate did not leave them very long in doubt. The Government, it

appeared, had decided that not again should their sacred halls of

Parliament be desecrated by women asking for the vote, and orders had

been given that would henceforth prevent women from reaching even the

outer precincts of the House of Commons. So when our deputation of women

arrived in the neighbourhood of Westminster Abbey they found themselves

opposed by a solid line of police, who, at a sharp order from their

chief, began to stride through and through the ranks of the procession,

trying to turn the women back. Bravely the women rallied and pressed

forward a little farther. Suddenly a body of mounted police came riding

up at a smart trot, and for the next five hours or more, a struggle,

quite indescribable for brutality and ruthlessness, went on.

The horsemen rode directly into the procession, scattering the women

right and left. But still the women would not turn back. Again and again

they returned, only to fly again and again from the merciless hoofs.

Some of the women left the streets for the pavements, but even there the

horsemen pursued them, pressing them so close to walls and railings that

they were obliged to retreat temporarily to avoid being crushed. Other

strategists took refuge in doorways, but they were dragged out by the

foot police and were thrown directly in front of the horses. Still the

women fought to reach the House of Commons with their resolution. They

fought until their clothes were torn, their bodies bruised, and the last

ounce of their strength exhausted. Fifteen of them did actually fight

their way through those hundreds on hundreds of police, foot and

mounted, as far as the Strangers' Lobby of the House. Here they

attempted to hold a meeting, and were arrested. Outside, many more women

were taken into custody. It was ten o'clock before the last arrest was

made, and the square cleared of the crowds. After that the mounted men

continued to guard the approaches to the House of Commons until the

House rose at midnight.

The next morning fifty-seven women and two men were arraigned, two and

three at a time, in Westminster police court. Christabel Pankhurst was

the first to be placed in the dock. She tried to explain to the

magistrate that the deputation of the day before was a perfectly

peaceful attempt to present a resolution, which, sooner or later, would

be presented and acted upon. She assured him that the deputation was but

the beginning of a campaign that would not cease until the Government

yielded to the women's demand. "There can be no going back for us," she

declared, "and more will happen if we do not get justice."

The magistrate, Mr. Curtis Bennett, who was destined later to try women

for that "more," rebuked my daughter sternly, telling her that the

Government had nothing to do with causing the disorders of the day

before, that the women were entirely responsible for what had occurred,

and finally, that these disgraceful scenes in the street must

cease--just as King Canute told the ocean that it must roll out instead

of in. "The scenes can be stopped in only one way," replied the

prisoner. His sole reply to that was, "Twenty shillings or fourteen

days," Christabel chose the prison sentence, and so did all the other

prisoners. Mrs. Despard, who headed the deputation, and Sylvia

Pankhurst, who was with her, were given three weeks in prison.

Of course the raid, as it was called, gave the Women's Social and

Political Union an enormous amount of publicity, on the whole,

favourable publicity. The newspapers were almost unanimous in condemning

the Government for sending mounted troops out against unarmed women.

Angry questions were asked in Parliament, and our ranks once more

increased in size and ardour. The old-fashioned suffragists, men as well

as women, cried out that we had alienated all our friends in Parliament;

but this proved to be untrue. Indeed, it was found that a Liberal

member, Mr. Dickinson, had won the first place in the ballot, and had

announced that he intended to use it to introduce a women's suffrage

bill. More than this, the prime minister, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman,

promised to give the bill his support. For a time, a very short time, it

is true, we felt that the hour of our freedom might be at hand, that our

prisoners had perhaps already won us our precious symbol--the vote.

Soon, however, a number of professed suffragists in the House began to

complain that Mr. Dickinson's bill, practically the original bill, was

not "democratic" enough, that it would enfranchise only the women of the

upper classes--to which, by the way, most of them belonged. That this

was not true had been proved again and again from the municipal

registers, which showed a majority of working women's names as qualified

householders. The contention was but a shallow excuse, and we knew it.

Therefore we were not surprised when Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman

departed from his pledge of support, and allowed the bill to be talked

out.

Following this event, the second Women's Parliament assembled, on the

afternoon of March 20, 1907. As before, we adopted a resolution calling

upon the Government to introduce an official suffrage measure, and again

we voted to send the resolution from the hall to the Prime Minister.

Lady Harberton was chosen to lead the deputation, and instantly hundreds

of women sprang up and volunteered to accompany her. This time the

police met the women at the door of the hall, and another useless,

disgraceful scene of barbarous, brute-force opposition took place.

Something like one thousand police had been sent out to guard the House

of Commons from the peaceful invasion of a few hundred women. All

afternoon and evening we kept Caxton Hall open, the women returning

every now and again, singly and in small groups, to have their bruises

bathed, or their torn clothing repaired. As night fell the crowds in the

street grew denser, and the struggle between the women and the police

became more desperate. Lady Harberton, we heard, had succeeded in

reaching the entrance to the House of Commons, nay, had actually managed

to press past the sentries into the lobby, but her resolution had not

been presented to the Prime Minister. She and many others were arrested

before the police at last succeeded in clearing the streets, and the

dreadful affair was over.

The next day, in Westminster police court, the magistrate meted out

sentences varying from twenty shillings or fourteen days to forty

shillings or one month's imprisonment. Two of the women, Miss Woodlock

and Mrs. Chatterton, who had left Holloway only a week before, were, as

"old offenders," given thirty days without the option of a fine. Another

woman, Mary Leigh, was given thirty days because she offended the

magistrate's dignity by hanging a "Votes for Women" banner over the edge

of the dock. Those of my readers who are unable to connect the word

"militancy" with anything milder than arson are invited to reflect that

within the first two months of the year 1907 the English Government sent

to prison one hundred and thirty women whose "militancy" consisted

merely of trying to carry a resolution from a hall to the Prime Minister

in the House of Commons. Our crime was called obstructing the police. It

will be seen that it was the police who did the obstructing.

It may be asked why neither of these deputations was led by me

personally. The reason was that I was needed in another capacity, that

of leader and supervisor of the suffrage forces in the field to defeat

Government candidates at by-elections. On the night of the second

"riot," while our women were still struggling in the streets, I left

London for Hexham in Northumberland, where by our work the majority of

the Liberal candidate was reduced by a thousand votes. Seven more

by-elections followed in rapid succession.

Our by-election work was such a new thing in English politics that we

attracted an enormous amount of attention wherever we went. It was our

custom to begin work the very hour we entered a town. If, on our way

from the station to the hotel, we encountered a group of men, say, in

the market-place, we either stopped and held a meeting on the spot, or

else we stayed long enough to tell them when and where our meetings were

to be held, and to urge them to attend. The usual first step, after

securing lodgings, was to hire a vacant shop, fill the windows with

suffrage literature, and fling out our purple, green, and white flag.

Meanwhile, some of us were busy hiring the best available hall. If we

got possession of the battle-ground before the men, we sometimes

"cornered" all the good halls and left the candidate nothing but

schoolhouses for his indoor meetings. Truth to tell, our meetings were

so much more popular than theirs that we really needed the larger halls.

Often, a candidate with the Suffragettes for rivals spoke to almost

empty benches. The crowds were away listening to the women.

Naturally, this greatly displeased the politicians, and it scandalised

many of the old-fashioned Liberal partisans. In one place, I think it

was Colne Valley in Yorkshire, an amusing instance of masculine

hostility occurred. We had arrived on a day when both Conservative and

Liberal committees were choosing their candidates, and we thought it a

good opportunity to hold a series of outdoor meetings. We tried to get

a lorry for a rostrum, but the only man in town who had these big vans

to let disapproved of Suffragettes so violently that he wouldn't let us

have one. So we borrowed a chair from a woman shopkeeper, and went at

it. Soon we had a large crowd and an interested audience. We also got

the attention of a number of small boys with pea-shooters, and had to

make our speeches under a blistering fire of dried peas.

While I was speaking the fire ceased, to my relief--for dried peas

sting. I continued my speech with renewed vigor, only to have one of my

best points spoiled by roars of laughter from the crowd. I finished

somehow, and sat down; and then it was explained to me that the

pea-shooters had been financed by one of the prominent Liberals of the

town, another man who disapproved of our policy of opposing the

Government. As soon as the ammunition gave out this man furnished the

boys with a choice supply of rotten oranges. These were not so easily

handled, it appeared, for the very first one went wild, and struck the

chivalrous gentleman violently in the neck. This it was that had caused

the laughter, and stopped the attack on the women.

We met with some pretty rough horse-play, and even with some brutality,

in several by-elections, but on the whole we found the men ready, and

the women more than ready, to listen to us. We tamed and educated a

public that had always been used to violence at elections. We even tamed

the boys, who came to the meetings on purpose to skylark. When we were

in Rutlandshire that spring three schoolboys came to see me and told me,

shyly, that they were interested in suffrage. They had had a debate on

the subject at their school, and although the decision had been for the

other side, all the boys wanted to know more about it. Wouldn't I please

have a meeting especially for them? Of course I consented, and I found

my boy audience quite delightful. Indeed, I hope they liked me half as

well as I did them.

All through the spring our by-election work continued with amazing

success, although our part in the Government losses was rarely admitted

by the politicians. The voters knew, however. At an election in Suffolk,

where we helped to double the Unionist vote, the successful candidate,

speaking to the crowd from his hotel window, said, "What has been the

cause of the great and glorious victory?" Instantly the crowd roared,

"Votes for Women!"--"Three cheers for the Suffragettes!" This was not at

all what the successful candidate had intended, but he waved his hand

graciously and said, "No doubt the ladies had something to do with it."

The newspaper correspondents were not so reluctant to acknowledge our

influence. Even when they condemned our policy, they were unsparing in

their admiration for our energy, and the courage and ardour of our

workers. Said the correspondent of the London _Tribune_, a Liberal paper

hostile to our tactics: "Their staying power, judging them by the

standards of men, is extraordinary. By taking afternoon as well as

evening meetings, they have worked twice as hard as the men. They are

up earlier, they retire just as late. Women against men, they are

better speakers, more logical, better informed, better phrased, with a

surer insight for the telling argument."

After a summer spent in strengthening our forces, organising new

branches, holding meetings--something like three thousand of these

between May and October--invading meetings of Cabinet Ministers--we

managed to do that about once every day--electioneering, and getting up

huge demonstrations in various cities, we arrived at the end of the

year. In the last months of the year, I directed several hotly contested

by-elections, at one of which I met with one of the most serious

misadventures of my life.

This by-election was held in the division of Mid-Devon, a stronghold of

Liberalism. In fact, since its creation in 1885, the seat has never been

held by any except a Liberal member. The constituency is a large one,

divided into eight districts. The population of the towns is a rough and

boisterous one, and its devotion, blind and unreasoning, to the Liberal

party has always reflected the rude spirit of the voters. A Unionist

woman told me, shortly after my arrival, that my life would be unsafe if

I dared openly to oppose the Liberal candidate. She had never dared, she

assured me, to wear her party colours in public. However, I did

speak--in our headquarters at Newton Abbott, the principal town of the

division, at Hull, and at Bovey Tracey. We held meetings twice a day,

calling upon the voters to "beat the Government in Mid-Devon, as a

message that women must have votes next year." Although some of the

meetings were turbulent, we were treated with much more consideration

than either of the candidates, who, not infrequently, were howled down

and put to flight. Often the air of their meetings was thick with

decayed vegetables and dirty snowballs. We had some rather lively

sessions, too. Once, at an outdoor meeting, some young roughs dragged

our lorry round and round until it seemed that we must be upset, and

several times the language hurled at us from the crowd was quite unfit

for me to repeat. Still, we escaped actual violence until the day of the

election, when it was announced that the Unionist candidate had won the

seat by a majority of twelve hundred and eighty. We knew instantly that

the deepest resentment of the Liberals would be aroused, but it did not

occur to us that the resentment would be directed actively against us.

After the declaration at the polls, my companion, Mrs. Martel, and I

started to walk to our lodgings. Some of our friends stopped us, and

drew our attention to the newly elected Unionist member of Parliament,

who was being escorted from the polling place by a strong guard of

police. We were warned that our safety demanded an immediate flight from

the town. I laughingly assured our friends that I was never afraid to

trust myself in a crowd, and we walked on. Suddenly we were confronted

by a crowd of young men and boys, clay-cutters from the pits on the edge

of town. These young men, who wore the red rosettes of the Liberal

party, had just heard of their candidate's defeat, and they were mad

with rage and humiliation. One of them pointed to us, crying: "They did

it! Those women did it!" A yell went up from the crowd, and we were

deluged with a shower of clay and rotten eggs. We were not especially

frightened, but the eggs were unbearable, and to escape them we rushed

into a little grocer's shop close at hand. The grocer's wife closed and

bolted the door, but the poor grocer cried out that his place would be

wrecked. I did not want that to happen, of course, so I asked them to

let us out by the back door. They led us out the door, into a small back

yard which led into a little lane, whence we expected to make our

escape. But when we reached the yard we found that the rowdies,

anticipating our move, had surged round the corner, and were waiting for

us.

They seized Mrs. Martel first, and began beating her over the head with

their fists, but the brave wife of the shopkeeper, hearing the shouts

and the oaths of the men, flung open the door and rushed to our rescue.

Between us we managed to tear Mrs. Martel from her captors and get her

into the house. I expected to get into the house, too, but as I reached

the threshold a staggering blow fell on the back of my head, rough hands

grasped the collar of my coat, and I was flung violently to the ground.

Stunned, I must have lost consciousness for a moment, for my next

sensation was of cold, wet mud seeping through my clothing. Sight

returning to me, I perceived the men, silent now, but with a dreadful,

lowering silence, closing in a ring around me. In the centre of the ring

was an empty barrel, and the horrid thought occurred to me that they

might intend putting me in it. A long time seemed to pass, while the

ring of men slowly drew closer. I looked at them, in their drab clothes

smeared with yellow pit-clay, and they appeared so underfed, so puny and

sodden, that a poignant pity for them swept over me. "Poor souls," I

thought, and then I said suddenly, "Are none of you _men_?" Then one of

the youths darted toward me, and I knew that whatever was going to

happen to me was about to begin.

At that very moment came shouts, and a rush of police who had fought

their way through hostile crowds to rescue us. Of course the mob turned

tail and fled, and I was carried gently into the shop, which the police

guarded for two hours, before it was deemed safe for us to leave in a

closed motor-car. It was many months before either Mrs. Martel or I

recovered from our injuries.

The rowdies, foiled of their woman prey, went to the Conservative Club,

smashed all the windows in the house, and kept the members besieged

there through the night. The next morning the body of a man, frightfully

bruised about the head, was found in the mill-race. Throughout all this

disorder and probable crime, not a man was arrested. Contrast this, if

you like, with the treatment given our women in London.

The King opened Parliament in great state on January 29, 1908. Again his

speech omitted all mention of woman suffrage, and again the W. S. P. U.

issued a call for a Women's Parliament, for February 11th, 12th and

13th. Before it was convened we heard that an excellent place in the

ballot had been won by a friend of the movement, Mr. Stanger, who

promised to introduce a suffrage bill, February 28th was the day fixed

for the second reading, and we realised that strong pressure would have

to be brought to bear to prevent the bill being wrecked, as the

Dickinson bill had been the previous year. Therefore, on the first day

of the Women's Parliament, almost every woman present volunteered for

the deputation, which was to try to carry the resolution to the prime

minister. Led by two well-known portrait painters, the deputation left

Caxton Hall and proceeded in orderly ranks, four abreast, toward the

House of Commons. The crowds in the streets were enormous, thousands of

sympathisers coming out to help the women, thousands of police

determined that the women should not be helped, and thousands of curious

spectators. When the struggle was over, fifty women were locked up in

police-court cells.

The next morning, when the cases were tried, Mr. Muskett, who prosecuted

for the Crown, and who was perhaps a little tired of telling the

Suffragettes that these scenes in the streets must cease, and then

seeing them go on exactly as if he had not spoken, made a very severe

and terrifying address. He told the women that this time they would be

subject to the usual maximum of two months' imprisonment, with the

option of a fine of five pounds, but that, in case they ever offended

again, the law had worse terrors in store for them. It was proposed to

revive, for the benefit of the Suffragettes, an Act passed in the reign

of Charles II, which dealt with "Tumultuous Petitions, either to the

Crown or Parliament." This Act provided that no person should dare to go

to the King or to Parliament "with any petition, complaint,

remonstrance, declaration or other address" accompanied with a number of

persons above twelve. A fine of one hundred pounds, or three months'

imprisonment, might be imposed under this law. The magistrate then

sentenced all but two of the women to be bound over for twelve months,

or to serve six weeks in the second division. Two other women, "old

offenders," were given one month in the third division, or lowest class.

All the prisoners, except two who had very ill relatives at home, chose

the prison sentence.

The next day's session of the Women's Parliament was one of intense

excitement, as the women reviewed the events of the previous day, the

trials, and especially the threat to revive the obsolete Act of Charles

II, an act _which was passed to obstruct the progress of the Liberal

party, which came into existence under the Stuarts, and under the second

Charles was fighting for its life_. It was an amazing thing that the

political descendants of these men were proposing to revive the Act to

obstruct the advance of the women's cause, fighting for its life under

George V and his Liberal government. At least, it was evidence that the

Government were baffled in their attempt to crush our movement.

Christabel Pankhurst, presiding over the second session of the Women's

Parliament, said: "At last it is realized that women are fighting for

freedom, as their fathers fought. If they want twelve women, aye, and

more than twelve, if a hundred women are wanted to be tried under that

act and sent to prison for three months, they can be found."

I was not present at this session, nor had I been present at the first

one. I was working in a by-election at South Leeds, the last of several

important by-elections in great industrial centres, where our success

was unquestioned, except by the Liberal press. The elections had wound

up with a great procession, and a meeting of 100,000 people on Hounslet

Moor. The most wonderful enthusiasm marked that meeting. I shall never

forget what splendid order the people kept, in spite of the fact that no

police protection was given us; how the vast crowd parted to let our

procession through; how the throngs of mill women kept up a chorus in

broad Yorkshire: "Shall us win? Shall us have the vote? We shall!" No

wonder the old people shook their beads, and declared that "there had

never been owt like it."

CHAPTER II

With those brave shouts in my ears, I hurried down to London for the

concluding session of the parliament, for I had determined that I must

be the first person to challenge the Government to carry out their

threat to revive the old Act of Charles II. I made a long speech to the

women that day, telling them something of my experiences of the past

months, and how all that I had seen and heard throughout the country had

only deepened my conviction of the necessity for women's votes. "I

feel," I concluded, "that the time has come when I must act, and I wish

to be one of those to carry our resolution to Parliament this afternoon.

My experience in the country, and especially in South Leeds, has taught

me things that Cabinet Ministers, who have not had that experience, do

not know, and has made me feel that I must make one final attempt to see

them, and to urge them to reconsider their position before some terrible

disaster has occurred."

Amid a good deal of excitement and emotion, we chose the requisite

thirteen women, who were prepared to be arrested and tried under the

Charles II "Tumultuous Petitions" Act. I had not entirely recovered from

the attack made upon me at Mid-Devon, and my wrenched ankle was still

too sensitive to make walking anything but a painful process. Seeing me

begin almost at once to limp badly, Mrs. Drummond, with characteristic,

blunt kindness, called to a man driving a dog-cart and asked him if he

would drive me to the House of Commons. He readily agreed, and I mounted

to the seat behind him, the other women forming in line behind the cart.

We had not gone far when the police, who already surrounded us in great

force, ordered me to dismount. Of course I obeyed and walked, or rather

limped along with my companions. They would have supported me, but the

police insisted that we should walk single-file. Presently I grew so

faint from the pain of the ankle that I called to two of the women, who

took hold of my arms and helped me on my way. This was our one act of

disobedience to police orders. We moved with difficulty, for the crowd

was of incredible size. All around, as far as eye could see, was the

great moving, swaying, excited multitude, and surrounding us on all

sides were regiments of uniformed police, foot and mounted. You might

have supposed that instead of thirteen women, one of them lame, walking

quietly along, the town was in the hands of an armed mob.

We had progressed as far as the entrance to Parliament Square, when two

stalwart policemen suddenly grasped my arms on either side and told me

that I was under arrest. My two companions, because they refused to

leave me, were also arrested, and a few minutes later Annie Kenney and

five other women suffered arrest. That night we were released on bail,

and the next morning we were arraigned in Westminster police court for

trial under the Charles II Act. But, as it turned out, the authorities,

embarrassed by our readiness to test the act, announced that they had

changed their minds, and would continue, for the present, to treat us as

common street brawlers.

This was my first trial, and I listened, with a suspicion that my ears

were playing tricks with my reason, to the most astonishing perjuries

put forth by the prosecution. I heard that we had set forth from Caxton

Hall with noisy shouts and songs, that we had resorted to the most

riotous and vulgar behaviour, knocking off policemen's helmets,

assaulting the officers right and left as we marched. Our testimony, and

that of our witnesses, was ignored. When I tried to speak in my own

defence, I was cut short rudely, and was told briefly that I and the

others must choose between being bound over or going to prison, in the

second division, for six weeks.

I remember only vaguely the long, jolting ride across London to Holloway

Prison. We stopped at Pentonville, the men's prison, to discharge

several men prisoners, and I remember shuddering at the thought of our

women, many of them little past girlhood, being haled to prison in the

same van with criminal men. Arriving at the prison, we groped our way

through dim corridors into the reception-ward, where we were lined up

against the wall for a superficial medical examination. After that we

were locked up in separate cells, unfurnished, except for low, wooden

stools.

It seemed an endless time before my cell door was opened by a wardress,

who ordered me to follow her. I entered a room where another wardress

sat at a table, ready to take an inventory of my effects. Obeying an

order to undress, I took off my gown, then paused. "Take off

everything," was the next order. "Everything?" I faltered. It seemed

impossible that they expected me to strip. In fact, they did allow me to

take off my last garments in the shelter of a bath-room. I shivered

myself into some frightful underclothing, old and patched and stained,

some coarse, brown woollen stockings with red stripes, and the hideous

prison dress stamped all over with the broad arrow of disgrace. I fished

a pair of shoes out of a big basket of shoes, old and mostly mismates. A

pair of coarse but clean sheets, a towel, a mug of cold cocoa, and a

thick slice of brown bread were given me, and I was conducted to my

cell.

My first sensations when the door was locked upon me were not altogether

disagreeable. I was desperately weary, for I had been working hard,

perhaps a little too hard, for several strenuous months. The excitement

and fatigue of the previous day, and the indignation I had suffered

throughout the trial, had combined to bring me to the point of

exhaustion, and I was glad to throw myself on my hard prison bed and

close my eyes. But soon the relief of being alone, and with nothing to

do, passed from me. Holloway Prison is a very old place, and it has the

disadvantages of old places which have never known enough air and

sunshine. It reeks with the odours of generations of bad ventilation,

and it contrives to be at once the stuffiest and the draughtiest

building I have ever been in. Soon I found myself sickening for fresh

air. My head began to ache. Sleep fled. I lay all night suffering with

cold, gasping for air, aching with fatigue, and painfully wide awake.

The next day I was fairly ill, but I said nothing about it. One does not

expect to be comfortable in prison. As a matter of fact, one's mental

suffering is so much greater than any common physical distress that the

latter is almost forgotten. The English prison system is altogether

mediaeval and outworn. In some of its details the system has improved

since they began to send the Suffragettes to Holloway. I may say that

we, by our public denunciation of the system, have forced these slight

improvements. In 1907 the rules were excessively cruel. The poor

prisoner, when she entered Holloway, dropped, as it were, into a tomb.

No letters and no visitors were allowed for the first month of the

sentence. Think of it--a whole month, more than four weeks, without

sending or receiving a single word. One's nearest and dearest may have

gone through dreadful suffering, may have been ill, may have died,

meantime. One was given plenty of time to imagine all these things, for

the prisoner was kept in solitary confinement in a narrow, dimly-lit

cell, twenty-three hours out of the twenty-four. Solitary confinement is

too terrible a punishment to inflict on any human being, no matter what

his crime. Hardened criminals in the men's prisons, it is said, often

beg for the lash instead. Picture what it must be to a woman who has

committed some small offence, for most of the women who go to Holloway

are small offenders, sitting alone, day after day, in the heavy silence

of a cell--thinking of her children at home--thinking, thinking. Some

women go mad. Many suffer from shattered nerves for a long period after

release. It is impossible to believe that any woman ever emerged from

such a horror less criminal than when she entered it.

Two days of solitary confinement, broken each day by an hour of silent

exercise in a bitterly cold courtyard, and I was ordered to the

hospital. There I thought I should be a little more comfortable. The bed

was better, the food a little better, and small comforts, such as warm

water for washing, were allowed. I slept a little the first night. About

midnight I awoke, and sat up in bed, listening. A woman in the cell next

mine was moaning in long, sobbing breaths of mortal pain. She ceased for

a few minutes, then moaned again, horribly. The truth flashed over me,

turning me sick, as I realised that a life was coming into being, there

in that frightful prison. A woman, imprisoned by men's laws, was giving

a child to the world. A child born in a cell! I shall never forget that

night, nor what I suffered with the birth-pangs of that woman, who, I

found later, was simply waiting trial on a charge which was found to be

baseless.

The days passed very slowly, the nights more slowly still. Being in

hospital, I was deprived of chapel, and also of work. Desperate, at last

I begged the wardress for some sewing, and she kindly gave me a skirt of

her own to hem, and later some coarse knitting to do. Prisoners were

allowed a few books, mostly of the "Sunday-school" kind. One day I

asked the chaplain if there were not some French or German books in the

library, and he brought me a treasure, "_Autour de mon Jardin_," by

Jules Janin. For a few days I was quite happy, reading my book and

translating it on the absurd little slate they gave us in lieu of paper

and pencil. That slate was, after all, a great comfort. I did all kinds

of things with it. I kept a calendar, I wrote all the French poetry I

could remember on it, I even recorded old school chorals and old English

exercises. It helped wonderfully to pass the endless hours until my

release. I even forgot the cold, which was the harder to bear because of

the fur coat, which I knew was put away, ticketed with my name. I begged

them for the coat, but they wouldn't let me have it.

At last the time came when they gave me back all my things, and let me

go free. At the door the Governor spoke to me, and asked me if I had any

complaints to make. "Not of you," I replied, "nor of any of the

wardresses. Only of this prison, and all of men's prisons. We shall raze

them to the ground."

Back in my comfortable home, surrounded by loving friends, I would have

rested quietly for a few days, but there was a great meeting that night

at Albert Hall, to mark the close of a week of self-denial to raise

money for the year's campaign. Women had sold papers, flowers, toys,

swept crossings, and sung in the streets for the cause. Many women, well

known in the world of art and letters, did these things. I felt that I

should be doing little if I merely attended the meeting. So I went. My

release was not expected until the following morning, and no one thought

of my appearing at the meeting. My chairman's seat was decorated with a

large placard with the inscription, "Mrs. Pankhurst's Chair." After all

the others were seated, the speakers, and hundreds of ex-prisoners. I

walked quietly onto the stage, took the placard out of the chair and sat

down. A great cry went up from the women as they sprang from their seats

and stretched their hands toward me. It was some time before I could see

them for my tears, or speak to them for the emotion that shook me like a

storm.

The next morning I, with the other released prisoners, drove off to

Peckham, a constituency of London, where the W. S. P. U. members were

fighting a vigorous by-election. In open brakes we paraded the streets,

dressed in our prison clothes, or exact reproductions of them.

Naturally, we attracted a great deal of attention and sympathy, and our

daily meetings on Peckham Rye, as their common is known, drew enormous

crowds. When polling day came our members were stationed at every

polling booth, and many men as they came to the booths told us that they

were, for the first time, voting "for the women," by which they meant

against the Government. That night, amid great excitement, it was made

known that the Liberal majority of 2,339 at the last general election

had been turned into a Conservative majority of 2,494. Letters poured

into the newspapers, declaring that the loss of this important Liberal

seat was due almost entirely to the work of the Suffragettes, and many

prominent Liberals called upon party leaders to start doing something

for women before the next general election. The Liberal leaders, with

the usual perspicacity of politicians, responded not at all. Instead

they beheld with approval the rise to highest power the arch-enemy of

the suffragists, Mr. Asquith.

Mr. Asquith became prime minister about Easter time, 1908, on the

resignation, on account of ill health, of Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman.

Mr. Asquith was chosen, not because of any remarkable record of

statesmanship, nor yet because of great personal popularity--for he

possessed neither--but simply because no better man seemed available

just then. He was known as a clever, astute, and somewhat unscrupulous

lawyer. He had filled several high offices to the satisfaction of his

party, and under Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman had been Chancellor of the

Exchequer, a post which is generally regarded as a stepping-stone to the

Premiership. The best thing the Liberal press found to say of the new

Premier was that he was a "strong" man. Generally in politics this term

is used to describe an obstinate man, and this we already knew Mr.

Asquith to be. He was a bluntly outspoken opponent of woman suffrage,

and it was sufficiently plain to us that no methods of education or

persuasion would ever prove successful where he was concerned. Therefore

the necessity of action on our part was greater than ever.

Such an opportunity presented itself at once through changes that took

place in the new Cabinet. According to English law, all new comers into

the Cabinet are obliged to resign their seats in Parliament and offer

themselves to their constituencies for re-election. Besides these

vacancies there were several others, on account of death or elevations

to the peerage. This made necessary a number of by-elections, and the

Women's Social and Political Union once more went into the field against

the Liberal candidates. I shall deal no further with these by-elections

than is necessary to show the effect of our work on the Government, and

its subsequent effect on our movement--which was to force us into more

and more militancy. I shall leave it to the honest judgment of my

readers to place where it ought rightly to be placed the responsibility

for those first broken windows.

We selected as our first candidate for defeat Mr. Winston Churchill, who

was about to appeal to his constituency of North West Manchester to

sanction his appointment as president of the Board of Trade. My daughter

Christabel took charge of this election, and the work of herself and her

forces was so successful that Mr. Churchill lost his seat by 420 votes.

All the newspapers acknowledged that it was the Suffragettes who had

defeated Mr. Churchill, and one Liberal newspaper, the London _Daily

News_, called upon the party to put a stop to an intolerable state of

affairs by granting the women's demand for votes.

Another seat was immediately secured for Mr. Churchill, that of Dundee,

then strongly--in the merely party sense--Liberal, and therefore safe.

Nevertheless, we determined to fight Mr. Churchill there, to defeat him

if possible, and to bring down the Liberal majority in any case. I took

personal charge of the campaign, holding a very large meeting in

Kinnaird Hall on the evening before Mr. Churchill's arrival. Although he

felt absolutely sure of election in this Scottish constituency, Mr.

Churchill dreaded the effect of our presence on the Liberal women. The

second meeting he addressed in Dundee was held for women only, and

instead of asking for support of the various measures actually on the

government's programme, the politician's usual method, he talked about

the certainty of securing, within a short time, the Parliamentary

franchise for women. "No one," he declared, "can be blind to the fact

that at the next general election woman suffrage will be a real,

practical issue; and the next Parliament, I think, ought to see the

gratification of the women's claims. I do not exclude the possibility of

the suffrage being dealt with in this Parliament." Mr. Churchill

earnestly reiterated his claim to be considered a true friend of the

women's cause; but when pressed for a pledge that his Government would

take action, he urged his inability to speak for his colleagues.

This specious promise, or rather, prophecy of woman suffrage at some

indefinite time, won over a great many of the Liberal women, who

forthwith went staunchly to work for Mr. Churchill's election. Dundee

has a large population of extremely poor people, workers in the jute

mills and the marmalade factories. Some concessions in the matter of the

sugar tax, timely made, and the announcement that the new Government

meant to establish old age pensions, created an immense wave of Liberal

enthusiasm that swept Mr. Churchill into office in spite of our work,

which was untiring. We held something like two hundred meetings, and on

election eve, five huge demonstrations--four of them in the open air and

one which filled a large drill hall. Polling day, May 9th, was very

exciting. For every Suffragette at the polling-booths there were half a

dozen Liberal men and women, handing out bills with such legends as

"Vote for Churchill, and never mind the women," and "Put Churchill in

and keep the women out." Yet for all their efforts, Mr. Churchill polled

2200 votes less than his Liberal predecessor had polled at the general

election.

In the first seven by-elections following Mr. Asquith's elevation to the

premiership, we succeeded in pulling down the Liberal vote by 6663. Then

something happened to check our progress. Mr. Asquith received a

deputation of Liberal members of Parliament, who urged him to allow the

Stanger suffrage bill, which had passed its second reading by a large

majority, to be carried into law. Mr. Asquith replied that he himself

did not wish to see women enfranchised, and that it would not be

possible for the Government to give the required facilities to Mr.

Stanger's bill. He added that he was fully alive to the many defects of

the electoral system, and that the Government intended, "barring

accidents," to bring in a reform bill before the close of that

Parliament. Woman suffrage would have no place in it, but it would be so

worded that a woman-suffrage amendment might be added if any member

chose to move one. In that case, said Mr. Asquith, he should not

consider it the duty of the Government to oppose the amendment if it

were approved by a majority of the House of Commons--_provided_ that the

amendment was on democratic lines, and that it had back of it the

support, the strong and undoubted support, of the women of the country

as well as the present electorate.

One would not suppose that such an evasive utterance as this would be

regarded in any quarter as a promise that woman suffrage would be given

any real chances of success under the Asquith Government. That it was,

by many, taken quite seriously is but another proof of the gullibility

of the party-blinded public. The Liberal press lauded Mr. Asquith's

"promise," and called for a truce of militancy in order that the

Government might have every opportunity to act. Said the _Star_, in a

leader typical of many others: "The meaning of Mr. Asquith's pledge is

plain. Woman's suffrage will be passed through the House of Commons

before the present Government goes to the country."

As for the women's Liberal Associations, they were quite delirious with

joy. In a conference called for the purpose of passing resolutions of

gratitude, Lady Carlisle said: "This is a glorious day of rejoicing. Our

great Prime Minister, all honour to him, has opened a way to us by which

we can enter into that inheritance from which we have been too long

debarred."

At the two following by-elections, the last of the series, enormous

posters were exhibited, "Premier's Great Reform Bill: Votes for Women."

We tried to tell the electors that the pledge was false on the face of

it; that the specious proviso that the amendment be "democratic" left no

doubt that the Government would cause the rejection of any practical

amendment that might be moved. Our words fell on deaf ears, and the

Liberal majorities soared.

Just a week later Mr. Asquith was questioned in the House of Commons by

a slightly alarmed anti-suffragist member. The member asked Mr. Asquith

whether he considered himself pledged to introduce the reform hill

during that Parliament, whether he meant to allow such a bill to carry a

woman-suffrage amendment, if such were moved, and whether, in that case,

the suffrage amendment would become part of the Government policy.

Evasive as ever, the Prime Minister, after some sparring, replied, "My

honourable friend has asked me a question with regard to a remote and

speculative future." Thus was our interpretation of Mr. Asquith's

"promise" justified from his own lips. Yet the Liberal women still clung

to the hope of Government action, and the Liberal press pretended to

cling to it. As for the Women's Social and Political Union, we prepared

for more work. We had to strike out along a new line, since it was

evident that the Government could, for a time at least, neutralise our

by-election work by more false promises. Consistent with our policy, of

never going further than the Government compelled us to go, we made our

first action a perfectly peaceable one.

On the day when the Stanger bill had reached its second reading in the

House, and several days after I had gone to Holloway for the first time,

Mr. Herbert Gladstone, the Home Secretary, made a speech which greatly

interested the Suffragettes. He professed himself a suffragist, and

declared that he intended to vote for the bill. Nevertheless, he was

confident that it could not pass, because of the division in the

Cabinet, and because it had no political party united either for or

against it. Woman suffrage, said Mr. Gladstone, must advance to victory

through all the stages that are required for great reforms to mature.

First academic discussion, then effective action, was the history of

men's suffrage; it must be the same with women's suffrage. "Men,"

declared Mr. Gladstone, "have learned this lesson and know the necessity

for demonstrating the greatness of their movement, and for establishing

that _force majeure_ which actuates and arms a Government for effective

work. That is the task before the supporters of this great movement.

Looking back at the great political crises in the thirties, the sixties

and the eighties, it will be found that the people did not go about in

small crowds, nor were they content with enthusiastic meetings in large

halls; they assembled in their tens of thousands all over the country.

"Of course," added Mr. Gladstone, "it is not to be expected that women

can assemble in such masses, but power belongs to masses, and through

this power a Government can be influenced into more effective action

than a Government will be likely to take under present conditions."

The Women's Social and Political Union determined to answer this

challenge. If assembling in great masses was all that was necessary to

convince the Government that woman suffrage had passed the academic

stage and now demanded political action, we thought we could undertake

to satisfy the most skeptical member of the Cabinet. We knew that we

could organise a demonstration that would out-rival any of the great

franchise demonstrations held by men in the thirties, sixties, and

eighties. The largest number of people ever gathered in Hyde Park was

said to have approximated 72,000. We determined to organise a Hyde Park

demonstration of at least 250,000 people. Sunday, June 21, 1908, was

fixed for the date of this demonstration, and for many months we worked

to make it a day notable in the history of the movement. Our example was

emulated by the non-militant suffragists, who organised a fine

procession of their own, about a week before our demonstration. Thirteen

thousand women, it was said, marched in that procession.

On our demonstration we spent, for advertising alone, over a thousand

pounds, or five thousand dollars. We covered the hoardings of London and

of all the principal provincial cities with great posters bearing

portraits of the women who were to preside at the twenty platforms from

which speeches were to be made; a map of London, showing the routes by

which the seven processions were to advance, and a plan of the Hyde Park

meeting-place were also shown. London, of course, was thoroughly

organised. For weeks a small army of women was busy chalking

announcements on sidewalks, distributing handbills, canvassing from

house to house, advertising the demonstration by posters and sandwich

boards carried through the streets. We invited everybody to be present,

including both Houses of Parliament. A few days before the demonstration

Mrs. Drummond and a number of other women hired and decorated a launch

and sailed up the Thames to the Houses of Parliament, arriving at the

hour when members entertain their women friends at tea on the terrace.

Everyone left the tables and crowded to the water's edge as the boat

stopped, and Mrs. Drummond's strong, clear voice pealed out her

invitation to the Cabinet and the members of Parliament to join the

women's demonstration in Hyde Park. "Come to the park on Sunday," she

cried. "You shall have police protection, and there will be no arrests,

we promise you." An alarmed someone telephoned for the police boats, but

as they appeared, the women's boat steamed away.

What a day was Sunday, June 21st--clear, radiant, filled with golden

sunshine! As I advanced, leading, with the venerable Mrs.

Wolstenholm-Elmy, the first of the seven processions, it seemed to me

that all London had turned out to witness our demonstration. And a

goodly part of London followed the processions. When I mounted my

platform in Hyde Park, and surveyed the mighty throngs that waited there

and the endless crowds that were still pouring into the park from all

directions, I was filled with amazement not unmixed with awe. Never had

I imagined that so many people could be gathered together to share in a

political demonstration. It was a gay and beautiful as well as an

awe-inspiring spectacle, for the white gowns and flower-trimmed hats of

the women, against the background of ancient trees, gave the park the

appearance of a vast garden in full bloom.

The bugles sounded, and the speakers at each of the twenty platforms

began their addresses, which could not have been heard by more than half

or a third of the vast audience. Notwithstanding this, they remained to

the end. At five o'clock the bugles sounded again, the speaking ceased,

and the resolution calling upon the Government to bring in an official

woman-suffrage bill without delay was carried at every platform, often

without a dissenting vote. Then, with a three-times-repeated cry of

"Votes for Women!" from the assembled multitude, the great meeting

dispersed.

The London _Times_ said next day: "Its organisers had counted on an

audience of 250,000. That expectation was certainly fulfilled, and

probably it was doubled, and it would be difficult to contradict any one

who asserted that it was trebled. Like the distances and the number of

the stars, the facts were beyond the threshold of perception."

The _Daily Express_ said: "It is probable that so many people never

before stood in one square mass anywhere in England. Men who saw the

great Gladstone meeting years ago said that compared with yesterday's

multitude it was as nothing."

We felt that we had answered the challenge in Mr. Gladstone's

declaration that "power belongs to the masses," and that through this

power the Government could be influenced; so it was with real hope that

we despatched a copy of the resolution to the Prime Minister, asking him

what answer the Government would make to that unparalleled gathering of

men and women. Mr. Asquith replied formally that he had nothing to add

to his previous statement--that the Government intended, at some

indefinite time, to bring in a general reform bill which _might_ be

amended to include woman suffrage. Our wonderful demonstration, it

appeared, had made no impression whatever upon him.

CHAPTER III

Now we had reached a point where we had to choose between two

alternatives. We had exhausted argument. Therefore either we had to give

up our agitation altogether, as the suffragists of the eighties

virtually had done, or else we must act, and go on acting, until the

selfishness and the obstinacy of the Government was broken down, or the

Government themselves destroyed. Until forced to do so, the Government,

we perceived, would never give women the vote.

We realised the truth of John Bright's words, spoken while the reform

bill of 1867 was being agitated. Parliament, John Bright then declared,

had never been hearty for any reform. The Reform Act of 1832 had been

wrested by force from the Government of that day, and now before

another, he said, could be carried, the agitators would have to fill the

streets with people from Charing Cross to Westminster Abbey. Acting on

John Bright's advice, we issued a call to the public to join us in

holding a huge demonstration, on June 30th outside the House of Commons.

We wanted to be sure that the Government saw as well as read of our

immense following. A public proclamation from the Commissioner of

Police, warning the public not to assemble in Parliament Square and

declaring that the approaches to the Houses of Parliament must be kept

open, was at once issued.

We persisted in announcing that the demonstration would take place, and

I wrote a letter to Mr. Asquith telling him that a deputation would wait

upon him at half-past four on the afternoon of June 30th. We held the

usual Women's Parliament in Caxton Hall, after which Mrs. Pethick

Lawrence, eleven other women, and myself, set forth. We met with no

opposition from the police, but marched through cheering crowds of

spectators to the Strangers' Entrance to the House of Commons. Here we

were met by a large group of uniformed men commanded by Inspector

Scantlebury, of the police. The inspector, whom I knew personally,

stepped forward and demanded officially, "Are you Mrs. Pankhurst, and is

this your deputation?"

"Yes," I replied.

"My orders are to exclude you from the House of Commons."

"Has Mr. Asquith received my letter?" I asked.

For answer the inspector drew my letter from his pocket and handed it to

me.

"Did Mr. Asquith return no message, no kind of reply?" I inquired.

"No," replied the inspector.

We turned and walked back to Caxton Hall, to tell the waiting audience

what had occurred. We resolved that there was nothing to do but wait

patiently until evening, and see how well the public would respond to

our call to meet in Parliament Square. Already we knew that the streets

were filled with people, and early as it was the crowds were increasing

rapidly. At eight we went out in groups from Caxton Hall, to find

Parliament Square packed with a throng, estimated next day at least

100,000. From the steps of public buildings, from stone copings, from

the iron railings of the Palace Yard, to which they clung precariously,

our women made speeches until the police pulled them down and flung them

into the moving, swaying, excited crowds. Some of the women were

arrested, others were merely ordered to move on. Mingled cheers and

jeers rose from the spectators. Some of the men were roughs who had come

out to amuse themselves. Others were genuinely sympathetic, and tried

valiantly to help us to reach the House of Commons. Again and again the

police lines were broken, and it was only as the result of repeated

charges by mounted police that the people's attacks were repelled. Many

members of Parliament, including Mr. Lloyd-George, Mr. Winston

Churchill, and Mr. Herbert Gladstone, came out to witness the struggle,

which lasted until midnight and resulted in the arrest of twenty-nine

women. Two of these women were arrested after they had each thrown a

stone through a window of Mr. Asquith's official residence in Downing

Street, the value of the windows being about $2.40.

This was the first window-breaking in our history. Mrs. Mary Leigh and

Miss Edith New, who had thrown the stones, sent word to me from the

police court that, having acted without orders, they would not resent

repudiation from headquarters. Far from repudiating them, I went at once

to see them in their cells, and assured them of my approval of their

act. The smashing of windows is a time-honoured method of showing

displeasure in a political situation. As one of the newspapers,

commenting on the affair, truly said, "When the King and Queen dine at

Apsley on the 13th inst. they will be entertained in rooms the windows

of which the Duke of Wellington was obliged to protect with iron

shutters from the fury of his political opponents."

In Winchester a few years ago, to give but one instance, a great riot

took place as a protest against the removal of a historic gun from one

part of the town to another. In the course of this riot windows were

broken and other property of various kinds was destroyed, very serious

damage being done. No punishment was administered in respect of this

riot and the authorities, bowing to public opinion thus riotously

expressed, restored the gun to its original situation.

Window-breaking, when Englishmen do it, is regarded as honest expression

of political opinion. Window-breaking, when Englishwomen do it, is

treated as a crime. In sentencing Mrs. Leigh and Miss New to two months

in the first division, the magistrate used very severe language, and

declared that such a thing must never happen again. Of course the women

assured him that it would happen again. Said Mrs. Leigh: "We have no

other course but to rebel against oppression, and if necessary to resort

to stronger measures. This fight is going on."

The summer of 1908 is remembered as one of the most oppressively hot

seasons the country had known for years. Our prisoners in Holloway

suffered intensely, some being made desperately ill from the heat, the

bad air, and the miserable food. We who spent the summer campaigning

suffered also, but in less degree. It was a tremendous relief when the

cool days of autumn set in, and it was with renewed vigour that we

prepared for the opening day of Parliament, which was October 12th.

Again we resolved to send a deputation to the Prime Minister, and again

we invited the general public to take part in the demonstration. We had

printed thousands of little handbills bearing this inscription: "Men and

Women, Help the Suffragettes to Rush the House of Commons, on Tuesday

Evening, October 13th, at 7:30."

On Sunday, October 11th, we held a large meeting in Trafalgar Square, my

daughter Christabel, Mrs. Drummond and I speaking from the plinth of the

Nelson monument. Mr. Lloyd-George, as we afterward learned, was a member

of the audience. The police were there, taking ample notes of our

speeches. We had not failed to notice that they were watching us daily,

dogging our footsteps, and showing in numerous ways that they were under

orders to keep track of all our movements. The climax came at noon on

October 12th, when Christabel, Mrs. Drummond and I were each served with

an imposing legal document which read, "Information has been laid this

day by the Commissioner of Police that you, in the month of October, in

the year 1908, were guilty of conduct likely to provoke a breach of the

peace by initiating and causing to be initiated, by publishing and

causing to be published, a certain handbill, calling upon and inciting

the public to do a certain wrongful and illegal act, viz., to rush the

House of Commons at 7:30 P.M. on October 13th inst."

[Illustration: MRS. PANKHURST AND CHRISTABEL HIDING FROM THE POLICE ON

THE ROOF GARDEN AT CLEMENTS INN

_October, 1908_]

The last paragraph was a summons to appear at Bow Street police station

that same afternoon at three o'clock. We did not go to Bow Street police

station. We went instead to a crowded "At Home" at Queen's Hall, where

it can be imagined that our news created great excitement. The place was

surrounded by constables, and the police reporters were on hand to take

stenographic reports of everything that was said from the platform. Once

an excited cry was raised that a police inspector was coming in to

arrest us. But the officer merely brought a message that the summons had

been adjourned until the following morning.

It did not suit our convenience to obey the adjourned summons quite so

early, so I wrote a polite note to the police, saying that we would be

in our headquarters, No. 4 Clements Inn, the next evening at six

o'clock, and would then be at his disposal. Warrants for our arrests

were quickly issued, and Inspector Jarvis was instructed to execute them

at once. This he found impossible to do, for Mrs. Drummond was spending

her last day of liberty on private business, while my daughter and I had

retreated to another part of Clements Inn, which is a big, rambling

building. There, in the roof-garden of the Pethick Lawrence's private

flat, we remained all day, busy, under the soft blue of the autumn sky,

with our work and our preparations for a long absence. At six we walked

downstairs, dressed for the street. Mrs. Drummond arrived promptly, the

waiting officers read the warrants, and we all proceeded to Bow Street

in cabs. It was too late for the trial to be held. We asked for bail,

but the authorities had no mind to allow us to take part in the "rush"

which we had incited, so we were obliged to spend the night in the

police station. All night I lay awake, thinking of the scenes which were

going on in the streets.

The next morning, in a courtroom crowded to its utmost capacity, my

daughter rose to conduct her first case at law. She had earned the right

to an LL.B. after her name, but as women are not permitted to practise

law in England, she had never appeared at the bar in any capacity except

that of defendant. Now she proposed to combine the two roles of

defendant and lawyer, and conduct the case for the three of us. She

began by asking the magistrate not to try the case in that court, but to

send it for trial before a judge and jury. We had long desired to take

the Suffragettes' cases before bodies of private citizens, because we

had every reason to suspect that the police-court officials acted under

the direct commands of the very persons against whom our agitation was

directed. Jury trial was denied us; but after the preliminary

examination was over the magistrate, Mr. Curtis Bennett, allowed a

week's adjournment for preparation of the case.

On October 21st the trial was resumed, with the courtroom as full as

before and the press table even more crowded, for it had been widely

published that we had actually subpoenaed two members of the

Government, who had witnessed the scenes on the night of October 13th.

The first witness to enter the box was Mr. Lloyd-George. Christabel

examined him at some length as to the meaning and merits of the word

rush, and succeeded in making him very uncomfortable--and the charge

against ourselves look very flimsy. She then questioned him about the

speeches he had heard at Trafalgar Square, and as to whether there had

been any suggestion that property be destroyed or personal violence

used. He admitted that the speeches were temperate and the crowds

orderly. Then Christabel suddenly asked, "There were no words used so

likely to incite to violence as the advice you gave at Swansea, that the

women should be ruthlessly flung out of your meeting?" Mr. Lloyd-George

looked black, and answered nothing. The magistrate hastened to the

protection of Mr. Lloyd-George. "This is quite irrelevant," he said.

"That was a private meeting." It was a public meeting, and Christabel

said so. "It was a private meeting _in a sense_," insisted the

magistrate.

Mr. Lloyd-George assumed an air of pompous indignation when Christabel

asked him, "Have we not received encouragement from you, and if not from

you from your colleagues, to take action of this kind?" Mr. Lloyd-George

rolled his eyes upward as he replied, "I should be very much surprised

to hear that, Miss Pankhurst."

"Is it not a fact," asked Christabel, "that you yourself have set us an

example of revolt?" "I never incited a crowd to violence," exclaimed

the witness. "Not in the Welsh graveyard case?" she asked. "No!" he

cried angrily. "You did not tell them to break down a wall and disinter

a body?" pursued Christabel. He could not deny this but, "I gave advice

which was found by the Court of Appeal to be sound legal advice," he

snapped, and turned his back as far as he could in the narrow

witness-box.

Mr. Herbert Gladstone had asked to be allowed to testify early, as he

was being detained from important public duties. Christabel asked to

question one witness before Mr. Gladstone entered the box. The witness

was Miss Georgiana Brackenbury, who had recently suffered six weeks'

imprisonment for the cause, and had since met and had a talk with Mr.

Horace Smith, the magistrate, who had made to her a most important and

damaging admission of the government's interference in suffragists'

trials. Christabel asked her one question. "Did Mr. Horace Smith tell

you in sentencing you that he was doing what he had been told to do?"

"You must not put that question!" exclaimed the magistrate. But the

witness had already answered "Yes." There was an excited stir in the

courtroom. It had been recorded under oath that a magistrate had

admitted that Suffragettes were being sentenced not by himself,

according to the evidence and according to law, but by the Government,

for no one could possibly doubt where Mr. Horace Smith's orders came

from.

Mr. Gladstone, plump, bald, and ruddy, in no way resembles his

illustrious father. He entered the witness-box smiling and confident,

but his complacence vanished when Christabel asked him outright if the

Government had not ordered the Commissioner of Police to take this

action against us. Of course the magistrate intervened, and Mr.

Gladstone did not answer the question. Christabel tried again. "Did you

instruct Mr. Horace Smith to decide against Miss Brackenbury, and to

send her to prison for six weeks?" That too was objected to, as were all

questions on the subject.

All through the examination the magistrate constantly intervened to save

the Cabinet Minister from embarrassment, but Christabel finally

succeeded in making Mr. Gladstone admit, point by point, that he had

said that women could never get the vote because they could not fight

for it as men had fought.

A large number of witnesses testified to the orderly nature of the

demonstration on the 13th, and then Christabel rose to plead. She began

by declaring that these proceedings had been taken, as the legal saying

is, "in malice and vexation," in order to lame a political enemy. She

declared that, under the law, the charge which might properly be brought

against us was that of illegal assembly, but the Government had not

charged us with this offence, because the Government desired to keep the

case in a police court.

"The authorities dare not see this case come before a jury," she

declared, "because they know perfectly well that if it were heard before

a jury of our countrymen we should be acquitted, just as John Burns was

acquitted years ago for taking action far more dangerous to the public

peace than we have taken. We are deprived of trial by jury. We are also

deprived of the right to appeal against the magistrate's decision. Very

carefully has this procedure been thought out."

Of the handbill she said: "We do not deny that we issued this bill; none

of us three has wished to deny responsibility. We did issue the bill; we

did cause it to be circulated; we did put upon it the words 'Come and

help the suffragettes rush the House of Commons.' For these words we do

not apologise. It is very well known that we took this action in order

to press forward a claim, which, according to the British constitution,

we are well entitled to make."

In all that the Suffragettes had done, in all that they might ever do,

declared my daughter, they would only be following in the footsteps of

men now in Parliament. "Mr. Herbert Gladstone has told us in the speech

I read to him that the victory of argument alone is not enough. As we

cannot hope to win by force of argument alone, it is necessary to

overcome by other means the savage resistance of the Government to our

claim for citizenship. He says, 'Go on, fight as the men did.' And then,

when we show our power and get the people to help us, he takes

proceedings against us in a manner that would have been disgraceful even

in the old days of coercion. Then there is Mr. Lloyd-George, who, if any

man has done so, has set us an example. His whole career has been a

series of revolts. He has said that if we do not get the vote--mark

these words--we should be justified in adopting the methods the men had

to adopt, namely, pulling down the Hyde Park railings." She quoted Lord

Morley as saying of the Indian unrest: "'We are in India in the presence

of a living movement, and a movement for what? For objects which we

ourselves have taught them to think are desirable objects; and unless we

can somehow reconcile order with satisfaction of those ideals and

aspirations, the fault will not be theirs, it will be ours--it will mark

the breakdown of British statesmanship.'--Apply those words to our

case," she continued.

[Illustration: CHRISTABEL, MRS. DRUMMOND AND MRS. PANKHURST IN THE DOCK,

FIRST CONSPIRACY TRIAL

_October, 1908_]

"Remember that we are demanding of Liberal statesmen that which is for

us the greatest boon and the most essential right--and if the present

Government cannot reconcile order with our demand for the vote without

delay, it will mark the breakdown of their statesmanship. Yes, their

statesmanship has broken down already. They are disgraced. It is only in

this court that they have the smallest hope of being supported."

My daughter had spoken with passion and fervour, and her righteous

indignation had moved her to words that caused the magistrate's face to

turn an angry crimson. When I rose to address the Court I began by

assuming an appearance of calmness which I did not altogether feel. I

endorsed all that Christabel had said of the unfairness of our trial and

the malice of the Government; I protested against the trial of political

offenders in a common police court, and I said that we were not women

who would come into the court as ordinary law-breakers. I described Mrs.

Drummond's worthy career as a wife, a mother, and a self-sustaining

business woman. I said, "Before you decide what is to be done with us,

I should like you to hear from me a statement of what has brought me

into the dock this morning." And then I told of my life and experiences,

many of which I have related in these pages of what I had seen and known

as a Poor Law Guardian and a registrar of births and deaths; of how I

had learned the burning necessity of changing the status of women, of

altering the laws under which they and their children live, and of the

essential justice of making women self-governing citizens.

"I have seen," I said, "that men are encouraged by law to take advantage

of the helplessness of women. Many women have thought as I have, and for

many, many years have tried, by that influence of which we have been so

often reminded, to alter these laws, but we find that influence counts

for nothing. When we went to the House of Commons we used to be told,

when we were persistent, that members of Parliament were not responsible

to women, they were responsible only to voters, and that their time was

too fully occupied to reform those laws, although they agreed that they

needed reforming.

"We women have presented larger petitions in support of our

enfranchisement than were ever presented for any other reform; we have

succeeded in holding greater public meetings than men have ever held for

any reform, in spite of the difficulty which women have in throwing off

their natural diffidence, that desire to escape publicity which we have

inherited from generations of our foremothers. We have broken through

that. We have faced hostile mobs at street corners, because we were told

that we could not have that representation for our taxes that men have

won unless we converted the whole of the country to our side. Because we

have done this, we have been misrepresented, we have been ridiculed, we

have had contempt poured upon us, and the ignorant mob have been incited

to offer us violence, which we have faced unarmed and unprotected by the

safeguards which Cabinet Ministers enjoy. We have been driven to do

this; we are determined to go on with this agitation because we feel in

honour bound. Just as it was the duty of your forefathers, it is our

duty to make the world a better place for women than it is to-day.

"Lastly, I want to call attention to the self-restraint which was shown

by our followers on the night of the 13th, after we had been arrested.

Our rule has always been to be patient, exercise self-restraint, show

our so-called superiors that we are not hysterical; to use no violence,

but rather to offer ourselves to the violence of others.

"That is all I have to say to you, sir. We are here, not because we are

law-breakers; we are here in our efforts to become law-makers."

The burly policemen, the reporters, and most of the spectators were in

tears as I finished. But the magistrate, who had listened part of the

time with his hand concealing his face, still held that we were properly

charged in a common police court as inciters to riot. Since we refused

to be bound over to keep the peace, he sentenced Mrs. Drummond and

myself to three months' imprisonment, and Christabel to ten weeks'

imprisonment. It was destined to be a kind of imprisonment the

authorities had never yet been called upon to deal with.

CHAPTER IV

My first act on reaching Holloway was to demand that the Governor be

sent for. When he came I told him that the Suffragettes had resolved

that they would no longer submit to being treated as ordinary

law-breakers. In the course of our trial two Cabinet Ministers had

admitted that we were political offenders, and therefore we should

henceforth refuse to be searched or to undress in the presence of the

wardresses. For myself I claimed the right, and I hoped the others would

do likewise, to speak to my friends during exercise, or whenever I came

in contact with them. The Governor, after reflection, yielded to the

first two demands, but said that he would have to consult the Home

Office before permitting us to break the rule of silence. We were

accordingly allowed to change our clothing privately, and, as a further

concession, were placed in adjoining cells. This was little advantage to

me, however, since within a few days I was removed to a hospital cell,

suffering from the illness which prison life always inflicts on me. Here

the Governor visited me with the unwelcome news that the Home Secretary

had refused to allow me the privilege of speech with my fellow

prisoners. I asked him if I might, when I was strong enough to walk,

take exercise with my friends. To this he assented, and I soon had the

joy of seeing my daughter and the other brave comrades, and walking

with them in the dismal courtyard of the prison. Single file we walked,

at a distance of three or four feet from one another, back and forth

under the stony eyes of the wardresses. The rough flags of the pavement

hurt our feet, shod in heavy, shapeless prison boots. The autumn days

were cold and cheerless, and we shivered violently under our scanty

cloaks. But of all our hardships the ceaseless silence of our lives was

worst.

At the end of the second week I decided I would no longer endure it.

That afternoon at exercise I suddenly called my daughter by name and

bade her stand still until I came up to her. Of course she stopped, and

when I reached her side we linked arms and began to talk in low tones. A

wardress ran up to us, saying: "I shall listen to everything you say." I

replied: "You are welcome to do that, but I shall insist on my right to

speak to my daughter." Another wardress had hastily left the yard, and

now she returned with a large number of wardresses. They seized me and

quickly removed me to my cell, while the other suffrage prisoners

cheered my action at the top of their voices. For their "mutiny" they

got three days' solitary confinement, and I, for mine, a much more

severe punishment. Unrepentant, I told the Governor that, in spite of

any punishment he might impose on me, I would never again submit to the

silence rule. To forbid a mother to speak to her daughter was infamous.

For this I was characterised as a "dangerous criminal" and was sent into

solitary confinement, without exercise or chapel, while a wardress was

stationed constantly at my cell door to see that I communicated with no

one.

[Illustration: MRS. PANKHURST AND MISS CHRISTABEL PANKHURST IN PRISON

DRESS]

It was two weeks before I saw any of my friends again, and meantime the

health of Mrs. Drummond had been so seriously impaired that she was

released for hospital treatment. My daughter also, I learned, was ill,

and in desperation I made application to the Board of Visiting

Magistrates to be allowed to see her. After a long conference, during

which I was made to wait outside in the corridor, the magistrates

returned a refusal, saying that I might renew my application in a month.

The answer then, they said, would depend on my conduct. A month! My girl

might be dead by that time. My anxiety sent me to bed ill again, but,

although I did not know it, relief was already on its way. I had told

the visiting magistrates that I would wait until public opinion got

within those walls, and this happened sooner than I had dared to hope.

Mrs. Drummond, as soon as she was able to appear in public, and the

other suffrage prisoners, as they were released, spread broadcast the

story of our mutiny, and of a subsequent one led by Miss Wallace Dunlop,

which sent a large number of women into solitary confinement. The

Suffragettes marched by thousands to Holloway, thronging the approaches

to the prison street. Round and round the prison they marched, singing

the Women's Marseillaise and cheering. Faintly the sound came to our

ears, infinitely lightening our burden of pain and loneliness. The

following week they came again, so we afterwards learned, but this time

the police turned them back long before they reached the confines of

the prison.

The demonstrations, together with a volley of questions asked in the

House of Commons, told at last. Orders came from the Home Office that I

was to see my daughter, and that we were to be allowed to exercise and

to talk together for one hour each day. In addition, we were to be

permitted the rare privilege of reading a daily newspaper. Then, on

December 8th, the day of Christabel's release, orders came that I, too,

should be discharged, two weeks before the expiration of my sentence.

At the welcome breakfast given us, as released prisoners, at Lincoln's

Inn Hotel, I told our members that henceforth we should all insist on

refusing to abide by ordinary prison rules. We did not propose to break

laws and then shirk punishment. We simply meant to assert our right to

be recognised as political prisoners. We reached this point after due

reflection. We first set ourselves not to complain of prison, not to say

anything about it, to avoid it, to keep away from all side issues, to

keep along the straight path of political reform, to get the vote;

because we knew that when we had won it we could reform prisons and a

great many other abuses as well. But now that we had had in the witness

box the admission of Cabinet Ministers that we are political offenders,

we should in future demand the treatment given to men political

offenders in all civilised countries. "If nations," I said, "are still

so governed that they make political offenders, then Great Britain is

going to treat her political offenders as well as political offenders

are treated by other nations. If it were the custom to treat political

offenders as ordinary offenders against the well-being of society are

treated, we should not have complained if we were treated like that; but

it is not the international custom to do it, and so, for the dignity of

the women of the country, and for the sake of the consciences of the men

of the country, and for the sake of our nation amongst the nations of

the earth, we are not going to allow the Liberal government to treat us

like ordinary law-breakers in future."

I said the same thing that night in a great meeting held in Queen's Hall

to welcome the released prisoners, and, although we all knew that our

determination involved a bitter struggle, our women endorsed it without

a moment's hesitation. Had they been able to look forward to the events

which were even then overshadowing us, could they have foreseen the new

forms of suffering and danger that lay in waiting, I am certain that

they would still have done the same thing, for our experiences had

taught us to dispense with fear. Whatever of timidity, of shrinking from

pain or hardship any of us had originally possessed, it had all

vanished. There were no terrors that we were not now ready to face.

The year 1909 marks an important point in our struggle, partly because

of this decision of ours, never again to submit to be classed with

criminals; and partly because in this year we forced the Liberal

Government to go on record, publicly, in regard to the oldest of

popular rights, the right of petition. We had long contemplated this

step, and now the time seemed ripe for taking it.

In the closing days of 1908 Mr. Asquith, speaking on the policy to be

carried out in 1909, commented on the various deputations he was obliged

at that time to receive. They called on him, he said, "from all quarters

and in all causes, on an average of something like two hours on three

days in every week." The deputations all asked for different things,

and, although all of the things could not possibly be included in the

King's speech, Mr. Asquith was inclined to agree that many of them ought

to be included. This declaration from the Prime Minister that he was

constantly receiving deputations of men, and listening favourably to

their suggestions of what policies to pursue, aroused in the

Suffragettes feelings of deep indignation. This in part they expressed

on January 25th, when the first meeting of the Cabinet Council took

place. A small deputation from the W. S. P. U. proceeded to Downing

Street to claim the right to be heard, as men were heard. For knocking

at the door of the official residence four of the women, including my

sister, Mrs. Clark, were arrested and sent to prison for one month.

A month later the seventh of our Women's Parliaments was called against

this and against the fact that no mention of women had been included in

the King's speech. Led by Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, Lady Constance Lytton

and Miss Daisy Solomon, a deputation of women endeavoured to carry the

resolution to the House of Commons. They were promptly arrested and,

next day, were sent to prison on sentences of from one to two months.

The time was rapidly approaching when the legality of these arrests

would have to be tested. In June of the year 1909 the test was made.

It will be remembered that we had endeavoured to force the authorities

to make good their threat to charge us under the obsolete Charles II

"Tumultuous Petitions Act," which prescribes severe penalties for

persons proceeding to Parliament in groups of more than twelve for the

purpose of presenting petitions. It had been stated that if we were

charged under that act our case would be given a hearing before a judge

and jury instead of a police magistrate. Since this was exactly what we

desired to have happen we had sent deputation after deputation of more

than twelve persons, but always they were tried in police courts, and

were sent to prison often for periods as long as that prescribed in the

Charles II Act. Now we determined to do something still more ambitious;

we resolved to test, not the Charles II Act, but the constitutional

right of the subject to petition the Prime Minister as the seat of

power.

The right of petition, which has existed in England since the earliest

known period, was written into the Bill of Rights which became law in

1689 on the accession of William and Mary. It was, in fact, one of the

conditions attaching to the accession of the joint monarchs. According

to the Bill of Rights, "It is the right of subjects to petition the King

and all commitments, and prosecutions for such petitionings are

illegal." The power of the King having passed almost completely into

the hands of Parliament, the Prime Minister now stands where the King's

majesty stood in former times. Clearly, then, the right of the subject

to petition the Prime Minister cannot be legally denied. Thus were we

advised, and in order to keep within the strict letter of the law, we

accepted the limitations of the right of petition laid down in the

Charles II Act, and decided that our petition should be carried to the

House of Commons by small groups of women.

Again I called together, on the evening of June 29th, a Parliament of

women. Previously I had written to Mr. Asquith stating that a deputation

of women would wait on him at the House of Commons at eight o'clock in

the evening. I wrote him further that we were not to be refused, as we

insisted upon our constitutional right to be received. To my note the

Prime Minister returned a formal note declining to receive us.

Nevertheless we continued our preparations, because we knew that the

Prime Minister would continue to decline, but that in the end he would

be forced to receive us.

An incident which occurred a week before the date of the deputation was

destined to have important consequences. Miss Wallace Dunlop went to St.

Stephen's Hall in the House of Commons, and marked with printer's ink on

the stone work of the Hall an extract from the Bill of Rights. The first

time she made the attempt she was interrupted by a policeman, but two

days later she succeeded in stamping on the ancient walls the reminder

to Parliament that women as well as men possess constitutional rights,

and that they were proposing to exercise those rights. She was arrested

and sentenced to prison for one month, in the third division. The option

of a heavy fine was given her, which of course she refused. Miss Wallace

Dunlop's prison term began on June 22d. Perhaps her deed had something

to do with the unusual interest taken in the approaching deputation, an

interest which was shown not only by the public but by many members of

Parliament. In the House of Commons a strong feeling that the women

ought this time to be received manifested itself in many questions put

to the Government. One member even asked leave to move the adjournment

of the House on a matter of urgent public importance, namely the danger

to the public peace, owing to the refusal of the Prime Minister to

receive the deputation. This was denied, however, and the Government

mendaciously disclaimed all responsibility for what action the police

might take toward the deputation. The Home Secretary, Mr. Gladstone,

when asked by Mr. Kier Hardie to give instructions that the deputation,

if orderly, should be admitted to St. Stephen's, replied: "I cannot say

what action the police ought to take in the matter." Our Women's

Parliament met at half past seven on the evening of June 29th, and the

petition to the Prime Minister was read and adopted. Then our deputation

set forth. Accompanying me as leader were two highly respectable women

of advanced years, Mrs. Saul Solomon, whose husband had been Prime

Minister at the Cape, and Miss Neligan, one of the foremost of the

pioneer educators of England. We three and five other women were

preceded by Miss Elsie Howey, who, riding fast, went on horse-back to

announce our coming to the enormous crowds that filled the streets. She,

we afterward learned, progressed as far as the approaches to the House

of Commons before being turned back by the police. As for the

deputation, it pressed on through the crowd as far as St. Margaret's

Church, Westminster, where we found a long line of police blocking the

road. We paused for a moment, gathering strength for the ordeal of

trying to push through the lines, when an unexpected thing happened. An

order was given from some one, and instantly the police lines parted,

leaving a clear space through which we walked towards the House. We were

escorted on our way by Inspector Wells, and as we passed the crowd broke

into vociferous cheering, firmly believing that we were after all to be

received. As for myself I did little speculating as to what was about to

happen. I simply led my deputation on as far as the entrance to St.

Stephen's Hall. There we encountered another strong force of police

commanded by our old acquaintance, Inspector Scantlebury, who stepped

forward and handed me a letter. I opened it and read in aloud to the

women. "The Prime Minister, for the reasons which he has already given

in a written reply to their request, regrets that he is unable to

receive the proposed deputation."

I dropped the note to the ground and said: "I stand upon my rights, as a

subject of the King, to petition the Prime Minister, and I am firmly

resolved to stand here until I am received."

[Illustration: INSPECTOR WELLS CONDUCTING MRS. PANKHURST TO THE HOUSE OF

COMMONS

_June, 1908_]

Inspector Scantlebury turned away and walked rapidly towards the door

of the Strangers' Entrance. I turned to Inspector Jarvis, who remained,

to several members of Parliament and some newspaper men who stood

looking on, and begged them to take my message to the Prime Minister,

but no one responded, and the Inspector, seizing my arm, began to push

me away. I now knew that the deputation would not be received and that

the old miserable business of refusing to leave, of being forced

backward, and returning again and again until arrested, would have to be

re-enacted. I had to take into account that I was accompanied by two

fragile old ladies, who, brave as they were to be there at all, could

not possibly endure what I knew must follow. I quickly decided that I

should have to force an immediate arrest, so I committed an act of

technical assault on the person of Inspector Jarvis, striking him very

lightly on the cheek. He said instantly, "I understand why you did

that," and I supposed then that we would instantly be taken. But the

other police apparently did not grasp the situation, for they began

pushing and jostling our women. I said to the inspector: "Shall I have

to do it again?" and he said "Yes." So I struck him lightly a second

time, and then he ordered the police to make the arrests.

The matter did not end with the arrest of our deputation of eight women.

In recurring deputations of twelve the Suffragettes again and again

pressed forward in vain endeavour to reach the House of Commons. In

spite of the fact that the crowds were friendly and did everything they

could to aid the women, their deputations were broken up by the police

and many of the women arrested. By nine o'clock Parliament Square was

empty, an enormous force of mounted police having beaten the people back

into Victoria Street and across Westminster Bridge. For a short time all

looked tranquil, but soon little groups of women, seven or eight at a

time, kept appearing mysteriously and making spirited dashes toward the

House. This extraordinary procedure greatly exasperated the police, who

could not unravel the mystery of where the women came from. As a matter

of bygone history the explanation is that the W. S. P. U. had hired

thirty offices in the neighborhood, in the shelter of which the women

waited until it was time for them to sally forth. It was a striking

demonstration of the ingenuity of women opposing the physical force of

men, but it served still another purpose. It diverted the attention of

the police from another demonstration which was going on. Other

Suffragettes had gone to the official residence of the First Lord of the

Admiralty, to the Home Office, the Treasury and Privy Council Offices,

and had registered their contempt for the Government's refusal to

receive the deputation by the time-honoured method of breaking a window

in each place.

One hundred and eight women were arrested that night, but instead of

submitting to arrests and trial, the Women's Social and Political Union

announced that they were prepared to prove that the Government and not

the women had broken the law in refusing to receive the petition. My

case, coupled with that of the Hon. Mrs. Haverfield, was selected as a

test case for all the others, and Lord Robert Cecil was retained for the

defence. Mr. Muskett, who conducted the case for the prosecution, tried

to prove that our women had not gone to the House of Commons to present

a petition, but this was easily demonstrated to be an unwarranted claim.

The speeches of the leader, the official articles published in our

newspaper, _Votes for Women_, and the letters sent to Mr. Asquith, not

to speak of the indisputable facts that every member of the deputation

carried a copy of the petition in her hand, furnished evidence enough of

the nature of our errand. The whole case of the subject's right of

petition was then brought forward for discussion. Mr. Muskett spoke

first, then our council, Mr. Henle, then Lord Robert Cecil. Last of all

I spoke, describing the events of June 29th. I told the magistrate that

should he decide that we and not the Government had been guilty of an

infraction of the law, we should refuse to be bound over, but should all

choose to go to prison. In that case we should not submit to being

treated like criminals. "There are one hundred and eight of us here

to-day," I said, pointing to the benches where my fellow-prisoners sat,

"and just as we have thought it is our duty to defy the police in the

street, so when we get into prison, as we are political prisoners, we

shall do our best to bring back into the twentieth century the treatment

of political prisoners which was thought right in the case of William

Cobbett, and other political offenders of his time."

The magistrate, Sir Albert de Rutzen, an elderly, amiable man, rather

bewildered by this unprecedented situation, then gave his decision. He

agreed with Mr. Henle and Lord Robert Cecil that the right of petition

was clearly guaranteed to every subject, but he thought that when the

women were refused permission to enter the House of Commons, and when

Mr. Asquith had said that he would not receive them, the women acted

wrongly to persist in their demands. He should, therefore, fine them

five pounds each, or sentence them to prison for one month in the second

division. The sentence would be suspended for the present until learned

counsel could obtain a decision from a higher court on the legal point

of the right of petition.

I then put in a claim for all the prisoners, and asked that all their

cases might be held over until the test case was decided, and this was

agreed to, except in regard to fourteen women charged with

window-breaking. They were tried separately and sent to prison on

sentences varying from six weeks to two months. Of them later.

The appeal against Sir Albert de Rutzen's decision was tried in a

Divisional Court early in December of that year. Lord Robert Cecil again

appeared for the defence, and in a masterly piece of argumentation,

contended that in England there was and always had been the right of

petition, and that the right had always been considered a necessary

condition of a free country and a civilised Government. The right of

petition, he pointed out, had three characteristics: In the first place,

it was the right to petition the actual repositories of power; in the

second place, it was the right to petition in person; and in the third

place, the right must be exercised reasonably. A long list of historical

precedents were offered in support of the right to petition in person,

but Lord Robert argued that even if these did not exist, the right was

admitted in the Charles II "Tumultuous Petitions Act," which provides

"That no person or persons whatsoever shall repair to His Majesty or

both or either Houses of Parliament upon pretence of presenting or

delivering any petition, complaint, remonstrance, or declaration or

other address, accompanied with excessive number of people ..." etc. The

Bill of Rights had specially confirmed the right of petition in so far

as the King personally was concerned. "The women," pursued Lord Robert,

"had gone to Parliament Square on June 29th in the exercise of a plain

constitutional right, and that in going there with a petition they had

acted according to the only constitutional method they possessed, being

voteless, for the redress of their grievances."

If then it were true, as contended, the subject not only possessed the

right to petition, but to petition in person, the only point to be

considered was whether the right had been exercised reasonably. If

persons desired to interview the Prime Minister, it was surely

reasonable to go to the House of Commons, and to present themselves at

the Strangers' Entrance. Mrs. Pankhurst, Mrs. Haverfield and the others

had, as the evidence showed, proceeded along the public highway and had

been escorted to the door of the House of Commons by an officer of the

police, and could not therefore, up to that point, have been acting in

an unlawful manner. The police had kept clear a large open space

opposite the House of Commons, the crowd being kept at a certain

distance away. Within the open space there were only persons having

business in the House of Commons, members of the police force and the

eight women who formed the deputation. It could not possibly be

contended that these eight women had caused an obstruction. It was true

that a police officer told them that the Prime Minister was not in the

House of Commons, but when one desired an interview with a Member of

Parliament one did not make his request of a casual policeman in the

street. Moreover, the police did not possess any authority to stop

anyone from going into the House of Commons.

The letter given the women, in which the Prime Minister said that he

could not or would not see them, had been cited. Now, had the Prime

Minister, in his letter, said that he could not or would not see the

women at that time, that the time was not convenient; but that he would

at some future time, at a more convenient time, receive them, that would

have been a sufficient answer. The women would not have been justified

in refusing to accept such an answer, because the right to petition must

be exercised reasonably. But the letter contained an unqualified

refusal, and that, if we allow the right of petition to exist, was no

answer at all. Last of all Lord Robert argued that if there is a right

to petition a Member of Parliament, then it must be incumbent on the

part of a Member of Parliament to receive the petition, and that no one

has a right to interfere with the petitioner. If the eight women were

legally justified in presenting their petition, then they were also

justified in refusing to obey the orders of the police to leave the

place.

In an address full of bias, and revealing plainly that he had no

accurate knowledge of any of the events that had led up to the case in

hand, the Lord Chief Justice delivered judgment. He said that he

entirely agreed with Lord Robert Cecil as to the right to present a

petition to the Prime Minister, either as Prime Minister or as a Member

of Parliament; and he agreed also that petitions to the King should be

presented to the Prime Minister. But the claim of the women, he said,

was not merely to present a petition, but to be received in a

deputation. He did not think it likely that Mr. Asquith would have

refused to receive a petition from the women, but his refusal to receive

the deputation was not unnatural, "in consequence of what we know did

happen on previous occasions."[1]

Referring to the Metropolitan Police Act of 1839, which provides that it

shall be lawful for the Commissioner of Police to make regulations and

to give instructions to the constable for keeping order, and for

preventing any obstruction of thoroughfares in the immediate

neighbourhood of the House of Commons, and the Sessional Order

empowering the police to keep clear the approaches to the House of

Commons, the Lord Chief Justice decided that I and the other women were

guilty of an infraction of the law when we insisted on a right to enter

the House of Commons. The Lord Chief Justice therefore ruled that our

conviction in the lower court had been proper, and our appeal was

dismissed with costs.

Thus was destroyed in England the ancient constitutional right of

petition, secured to the people by the Bill of Rights, and cherished by

uncounted generations of Englishmen. I say the right was destroyed, for

of how much value is a petition which cannot be presented in person? The

decision of the high court was appalling to the members of the

W. S. P. U., as it closed the last approach, by constitutional means, to

our enfranchisement. Far from discouraging or disheartening us, it

simply spurred us on to new and more aggressive forms of militancy.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] Mr. Asquith had never, since becoming Prime Minister, received a

deputation of women, nor had he ever received a deputation of the W. S.

P. U. So it was absurd of the Lord Chief Justice to speak of "what did

happen, on previous occasions."

CHAPTER V

Between the time of the arrest in June and the handing down of the

absurd decision of the Lord Chief Justice that although we, as subjects,

possessed the right of petition, yet we had committed an offence in

exercising that right, nearly six months had passed. In that interval

certain grave developments had lifted the militant movement onto a new

and more heroic plane. It will be remembered that a week before our

deputation to test the Charles II Act, Miss Wallace Dunlop had been sent

to prison for one month for stamping an extract from the Bill of Rights

on the stone walls of St. Stephen's Hall. On arriving at Holloway on

Friday evening, July 2nd, she sent for the Governor and demanded of him

that she be treated as a political offender. The Governor replied that

he had no power to alter the sentence of the magistrate, whereupon Miss

Wallace Dunlop informed him that it was the unalterable resolution of

the Suffragettes never again to submit to the prison treatment given to

ordinary offenders against the law. Therefore she should, if placed in

the second division as a common criminal, refuse to touch food until the

Government yielded her point. It is hardly likely that the Government or

the prison authorities realised the seriousness of Miss Wallace Dunlop's

action, or the heroic mould of the Suffragettes' character. At all

events the Home Secretary paid no attention to the letter sent him by

the prisoner, in which she explained simply but clearly her motives for

her desperate act, and the prison authorities did nothing except seek

means of breaking down her resistance. The ordinary prison diet was

replaced by the most tempting food, and this instead of being brought to

her cell at intervals, was kept there night and day, but always

untouched. Several times daily the doctor came to feel her pulse and

observe her growing weakness. The doctor, as well as the Governor and

the wardresses argued, coaxed and threatened, but without effect. The

week passed without any sign of surrender on the part of the prisoner.

On Friday the doctor reported that she was rapidly reaching a point at

which death might at any time supervene. Hurried conferences were

carried on between the prison and the Home Office, and that evening,

June 8th, Miss Wallace Dunlop was sent home, having served one-fourth of

her sentence, and having ignored completely all the terms of her

imprisonment.

On the day of her release the fourteen women who had been convicted of

window breaking received their sentences, and learning of Miss Wallace

Dunlop's act, they, as they were being taken to Holloway in the prison

van, held a consultation and agreed to follow her example. Arrived at

Holloway they at once informed the officials that they would not give up

any of their belongings, neither would they put on prison clothing,

perform prison labour, eat prison food or keep the rule of silence.

The Governor agreed for the moment to allow them to retain their

property and to wear their own clothing, but he told them that they had

committed an act of mutiny and that he would have to so charge them at

the next visit of the magistrates. The women then addressed petitions to

the Home Secretary, demanding that they be given the prison treatment

universally allowed political offenders. They decided to postpone the

hunger strike until the Home Secretary had had time to reply. Meanwhile,

after a vain appeal for more fresh air, for the weather was stiflingly

hot, the women committed one more act of mutiny, they broke the windows

of their cells.

We learned this from the prisoners themselves. Several days after they

had gone to prison, my daughter Christabel and Mrs. Tuke, filled with

anxiety for their fate, gained admission to an upper story room of a

house overlooking the prison. Calling at the top of their voices and

waving a flag of the Union, they succeeded in attracting the prisoners'

attention. The women thrust their arms through the broken panes, waving

handkerchiefs, Votes for Women badges, anything they could get hold of,

and in a few shouted words told their tale. That same day the visiting

magistrates arrived, and the mutineers were sentenced to terms of seven

to ten days of solitary confinement in the punishment cells. In these

frightful cells, dark, unclean, dripping with moisture, the prisoners

resolutely hunger struck. At the end of five days one of the women was

reduced to such a condition that the Home Secretary ordered her

released. The next day several more were released, and before the end

of the week the last of the fourteen had gained their liberty.

The affair excited the greatest sympathy all over England, sympathy

which Mr. Gladstone tried to divert by charging two of the prisoners

with kicking and biting the wardresses. In spite of their vigorous

denials these two women were sentenced, on these charges, one to ten

days and the other to a month in prison. Although still very weak from

the previous hunger strike, they at once entered upon a second hunger

strike, and in three days had to be released.

After this each succeeding batch of Suffragette prisoners, unless

otherwise directed, followed the example of these heroic rebels. The

prison officials, seeing their authority vanish, were panic stricken.

Holloway and other women's prisons throughout the Kingdom became perfect

dens of violence and brutality. Hear the account given by Lucy Burns of

her experience:

"We remained quite still when ordered to undress, and when they told us

to proceed to our cells we linked arms and stood with our backs to the

wall. The Governor blew his whistle and a great crowd of wardresses

appeared, falling upon us, forcing us apart and dragging us towards the

cells. I think I had twelve wardresses for my share, and among them they

managed to trip me so that I fell helplessly to the floor. One of the

wardresses grasped me by my hair, wound the long braid around her wrist

and literally dragged me along the ground. In the cell they fairly

ripped the clothing from my back, forcing on me one coarse cotton

garment and throwing others on the bed for me to put on myself. Left

alone exhausted by the dreadful experience I lay for a time gasping and

shivering on the floor. By and by a wardress came to the door and threw

me a blanket. This I wrapped around me, for I was chilled to the bone by

this time. The single cotton garment and the rough blanket were all the

clothes I wore during my stay in prison. Most of the prisoners refused

everything but the blanket. According to agreement we all broke our

windows and were immediately dragged off to the punishment cells. There

we hunger struck, and after enduring great misery for nearly a week, we

were one by one released."

How simply they tell it. "After enduring great misery--" But no one who

has not gone through the awful experience of the hunger strike can have

any idea of how great that misery is. In an ordinary cell it is great

enough. In the unspeakable squalor of the punishment cells it is worse.

The actual hunger pangs last only about twenty-four hours with most

prisoners. I generally suffer most on the second day. After that there

is no very desperate craving for food. Weakness and mental depression

take its place. Great disturbances of digestion divert the desire for

food to a longing for relief from pain. Often there is intense headache,

with fits of dizziness, or slight delirium. Complete exhaustion and a

feeling of isolation from earth mark the final stages of the ordeal.

Recovery is often protracted, and entire recovery of normal health is

sometimes discouragingly slow.

The first hunger strike occurred in early July. In the two months that

followed scores of women adopted the same form of protest against a

Government who would not recognise the political character of their

offences. In some cases the hunger strikers were treated with unexampled

cruelty. Delicate women were sentenced, not only to solitary

confinement, but to wear handcuffs for twenty-four hours at a stretch.

One woman on refusing prison clothes was put into a straightwaistcoat.

The irony of all this appears the greater when it is considered that, at

this precise time, the leaders of the Liberal Party in the House of

Commons were in the midst of their first campaign against the veto power

of the Lords.

On September 17th a great meeting was held in Birmingham, on which

occasion Mr. Asquith was to throw down his challenge to the Lords, and

to announce that their veto was to be abolished, leaving the people's

will paramount in England. Of course the Suffragettes seized this

opportunity for a demonstration. This course was perfectly logical.

Denied the right of petition, shut out now from every Cabinet Minister's

meeting, the women were forced to take whatever means that remained to

urge their cause upon the Government. Mrs. Mary Leigh and a group of

Birmingham members addressed a warning to the public not to attend Mr.

Asquith's meeting as disturbances were likely to happen. From the time

that the Prime Minister and his Cabinet left the House of Commons until

the train drew in to the station at Birmingham they were completely

surrounded with detectives and policemen. The precautions taken to

guard Mr. Asquith have never been equalled except in the case of the

Tsar during outbreaks of revolution in Russia. From the station he was

taken by an underground passage a quarter of a mile in length to his

hotel, where he dined in solitary state, after having been carried

upstairs in a luggage lift. Escorted to the Bingley Hall by a strong

guard of mounted police, he was so fearful of encountering the

Suffragettes that he entered by a side door. The hall was guarded as for

a siege. Over the glass roof a thick tarpaulin had been stretched. Tall

ladders were placed on either side of the building, and firemen's hose

were laid in readiness--not to extinguish fires, but to play upon the

Suffragettes should they appear at an inaccessible spot on the roof. The

streets on every hand were barricaded, and police, in regiments, were

drawn up to defend the barricades against the onslaughts of the women.

Nobody was allowed to pass the barricades without showing his entrance

tickets to long files of police, and then the ticket holders were

squeezed through the narrow doors one by one.

Their precautions were in vain, for the determined Suffragettes found

more than one way in which to turn Mr. Asquith's triumph into a fiasco.

Although no women gained access to the hall, there were plenty of men

sympathisers present, and before the meeting had proceeded far thirteen

men had been violently thrown out for reminding the Prime Minister that

"the people" whose right to govern he was professing to uphold, included

women as well as men. Outside, mingling in the vast crowds, bands of

women attacked the barricades, the outer barricades being thrown down in

spite of the thousands of police. From the roof of a neighbouring house

Mrs. Leigh and Charlotte Marsh tore up dozens of slates and threw them

on the roof of Bingley Hall and in the streets below, taking care,

however, to strike no one. As Mr. Asquith drove away the women hurled

slates at the guarded motor car. The fire hose was brought forth and the

firemen were ordered to turn the water on the women. They refused, to

their credit be it said, but the police, infuriated by their failure to

keep the peace, did not scruple to play the cold water on the women as

they crouched and clung to the dangerous slope of the roof. Roughs in

the streets flung bricks at them, drawing blood. Eventually the women

were dragged down by the police and in their dripping garments marched

through the streets to the police station.

The Suffragettes who had rushed the barricades and flung stones at Mr.

Asquith's departing train received sentences from a fortnight to one

month, but Miss Marsh and Mrs. Leigh were sent to prison for three and

four months respectively. All of the prisoners adopted the hunger

strike, as we knew they would.

Several days later we were horrified to read in the newspapers that

these prisoners were being forcibly fed by means of a rubber tube thrust

into the stomach. Members of the Union applied at once both at the

prison and at the Home Office to learn the truth of the report, but all

information was refused. On the following Monday at our request, Mr.

Keir Hardie, at question time in the House, insisted on information from

the Government. Mr. Masterman, speaking for the Home Secretary,

reluctantly admitted that, in order to preserve the dignity of the

Government and at the same time save the lives of the prisoners,

"hospital treatment" was being administered. "Hospital treatment" was

the term used to draw attention from one of the most disgusting and

brutal expedients ever resorted to by prison authorities. No law allows

it except in the case of persons certified to be insane, and even then

when the operation is performed by skilled nursing attendants under the

direction of skilled medical men, it cannot be called safe. In fact, the

asylum cases usually die after a short time. _The Lancet_, perhaps the

best known medical journal in the language, published a long list of

opinions from distinguished physicians and surgeons who condemned the

practice as applied to the suffrage prisoners as unworthy of

civilisation. One physician told of a case which had come under his

observation in which death had occurred almost as soon as the tube had

been inserted. Another cited a case where the tongue, twisted behind the

feeding tube, had, in the struggle, been almost bitten off. Cases where

food had been injected into the lungs were not unknown. Mr. C.

Mansell-Moullin, M.D., F.R.C.S., wrote to _The Times_ that as a hospital

surgeon of more than thirty years' experience he desired indignantly to

protest against the Government's term "Hospital treatment" in connection

with the forcible feeding of women. It was a foul libel, he declared,

for violence and brutality have no place in hospitals. A memorial signed

by 116 well-known physicians was addressed to the Prime Minister

protesting against the practice of forcible feeding, and pointing out to

him in detail the grave dangers attaching to it.

So much for medical testimony against a form of brutality which

continued and still continues in our English prisons, as a punishment

for women who are there for consciences' sake. As for the testimony of

the victims, it makes a volume of most revolting sort. Mrs. Leigh, the

first victim, is a woman of sturdy constitution, else she could scarcely

have survived the experience. Thrown into Birmingham prison after the

Asquith demonstration, she had broken the windows of her cell, and as a

punishment was sent to a dark and cold punishment cell. Her hands were

handcuffed, behind her during the day, and at night in front of her body

_with the palms out_. She refused to touch the food that was brought to

her, and three days after her arrival she was taken to the doctor's

room. What she saw was enough to terrify the bravest. In the centre of

the room was a stout chair resting on a cotton sheet. Against the wall,

as if ready for action stood four wardresses. The junior doctor was also

on hand. The senior doctor spoke, saying: "Listen carefully to what I

have to say. I have orders from my superior officers that you are not to

be released even on medical grounds. If you still refrain from food I

must take other measures to compel you to take it." Mrs. Leigh replied

that she did still refuse, and she said further that she knew that she

could not legally be forcibly fed because an operation could not be

performed without the consent of the patient if sane. The doctor

repeated that he had his orders and would carry them out. A number of

wardresses then fell upon Mrs. Leigh, held her down and tilted her chair

backward. She was so taken by surprise that she could not resist

successfully that time. They managed to make her swallow a little food

from a feeding cup. Later two doctors and the wardresses appeared in her

cell, forced Mrs. Leigh down to the bed and held her there. To her

horror the doctors produced a rubber tube, two yards in length, and this

he began to stuff up her nostril. The pain was so dreadful that she

shrieked again and again. Three of the wardresses burst into tears and

the junior doctor begged the other to desist. Having had his orders from

the Government, the doctor persisted and the tube was pushed down into

the stomach. One of the doctors, standing on a chair and holding the

tube high poured liquid food through a funnel almost suffocating the

poor victim. "The drums of my ears," she said afterwards, "seemed to be

bursting. I could feel the pain to the end of the breast bone. When at

last the tube was withdrawn it felt as if the back of my nose and throat

were being torn out with it."

In an almost fainting condition Mrs. Leigh was taken back to the

punishment cell and laid on her plank bed. The ordeal was renewed day

after day. The other prisoners suffered similar experiences.

CHAPTER VI

The militant movement was at this point when, in October, 1909, I made

my first visit to the United States. I shall never forget the excitement

of my landing, the first meeting with the American "reporter," an

experience dreaded by all Europeans. In fact the first few days seemed a

bewildering whirl of reporters and receptions, all leading up to my

first lecture at Carnegie Hall on October 25th. The huge hall was

entirely filled, and an enormous crowd of people thronged the streets

outside for blocks. With me on the stage were several women whom I had

met in Europe, and in the chair was an old friend, Mrs. Stanton Blatch,

whose early married life had been spent in England. The great crowd

before me, however, was made up of strangers, and I could not know how

they would respond to my story. When I rose to speak a deep hush fell,

but at my first words: "I am what you call a hooligan--" a great shout

of warm and sympathetic laughter shook the walls. Then I knew that I had

found friends in America. And this all the rest of the tour

demonstrated. In Boston the committee met me with a big grey automobile

decorated in the colours of our Union, and that night at Tremont Temple

I spoke to an audience of 2,500 people all most generous in their

responsiveness. In Baltimore professors, and students from Johns

Hopkins University acted as stewards of the meeting. I greatly enjoyed

my visit to Bryn Mawr College and to Rosemary Hall, a wonderful school

for girls in Connecticut. In Chicago, I met, among other notable people,

Miss Jane Addams and Mrs. Ella Flagg Young, superintendent of schools.

My visit to Canada will always be remembered, especially Toronto, where

the mayor, dressed in the chains of his office, welcomed me. I met too

the venerable Goldwin Smith, since dead.

Everywhere I found the Americans kind and keen, and I cannot say too

much for the wonderful hospitality they showed me. The women I found

were remarkably interested in social welfare. The work of the women's

clubs struck me very favourably, and I thought these institutions a

perfect basis for a suffrage movement. But at that time, 1909, the

suffrage movement in the United States was in a curious state of

quiescence. A large number of women with whom I came in contact appeared

to think it only just that they should have a vote, but few seemed to

realise any actual need of it. Some, it is true, were beginning to

connect the vote with the reforms for which they were working so

unselfishly and so devotedly. It was when talking with the younger women

that I came to feel that under the surface of things in America, a

strong suffrage movement was stirring. Those young women, leaving their

splendid colleges to begin life were realising in a very intelligent

fashion that they needed and would be obliged to secure for themselves a

political status.

On December 1st I sailed on the _Mauretania_ for England, and on

arriving I learned that the prison sentence which hung over me while the

petitions case had been argued, was discharged, some unknown friend

having paid my fine while I was on the ocean.

The year 1910 began with a general election, precipitated by the House

of Lords' rejection of Mr. Lloyd-George's 1909 budget. The Liberal Party

went to the country with promises of taxes on land values. They promised

also abolition of the veto power of the Lords, Irish Home Rule,

disestablishment of the Church of Wales, and other reforms. Woman

suffrage was not directly promised, but Mr. Asquith pledged that, if

retained in office, he would introduce an electoral reform bill which

could be amended to include woman suffrage. The Unionists under the

leadership of Mr. Balfour, had tariff reform for their programme, and

they offered not even a vague promise of a possible suffrage measure.

Yet we, as usual, went into the constituencies and opposed the Liberal

Party. We had no faith in Mr. Asquith's pledge, and besides, if we had

failed to oppose the party in power we should but have invited Mr.

Asquith and Mr. Balfour to enter into an agreement not to deal with the

suffrage, with the view of keeping the cause permanently outside

practical politics. We were in something of the same position as the

Irish Nationalists in 1885, when neither the Liberal nor the

Conservative leaders would include home rule in their programme. The

Irish opposed the Liberal Party, with the result that it was returned by

such a narrow majority that the Liberal Government was dependent on the

Irish vote in Parliament in order to remain in office. On this account

they were obliged to bring in a Home Rule Bill.

The other suffrage societies and many of the Liberal women begged us not

to oppose the Liberal party at this election. We were implored to waive

our claim "just this once" in view of the importance of the struggle

between the Commons and the House of Lords over the budget. We replied

that the same plea had been made in 1906 when we were implored to waive

our claim "just this once" on account of the fiscal issue. For women

there was only one political issue, we said, and that was the issue of

their own enfranchisement. The dispute between the Lords and the Commons

was far less vital than the claims of the people--represented in this

case by women--to be admitted to citizenship. From our point of view

both Houses of Parliament were unrepresentative until women had a voice

in choosing legislators and influencing law making.

We opposed Liberal candidates in forty constituencies, and in almost

every one of these the Liberal majorities were reduced and no less than

eighteen seats were wrested from the Liberal candidates. It really was a

terrible election for the Government. Mr. Asquith travelled from one

constituency to another accompanied by a body guard of detectives, and

official "chuckers out," whose sole duty was to eject women, and men as

well, who interrupted his meetings on the question of Votes for Women.

The halls where he spoke had the windows boarded up or the glass covered

with strong wire netting. Every thoroughfare leading to the halls was

barricaded, traffic was suspended, and large forces of police were on

guard. The most extraordinary precautions were taken to protect the

Prime Minister. At one place he went to his meeting strongly guarded and

by way of a secret pathway that led through gooseberry bushes and a

cabbage patch to a back door. After the meeting he escaped through the

same door and was solemnly guided along a path heavily laid with sawdust

to deaden his footsteps, to a concealed motor car, where he sat until

the crowd had all dispersed.

The other ministers had to resort to similar precautions. They lived

under the constant protection of body-guards. Their meetings were

policed in a manner without precedent. Of course no women were admitted

to their meetings, but they got in just the same. Two women hid for

twenty-five hours in the rafters of a hall in Louth where Mr.

Lloyd-George spoke. They were arrested, but not until after they had

made their demonstration. Two others hid under a platform for twenty-two

hours in order to question the Prime Minister. I could continue this

record almost indefinitely.

We had printed a wonderful poster showing the process of forcible

feeding, and we used it on hoardings everywhere. We told the electors

that the "Liberal Party," the people's friend, had imprisoned 450 women

for the crime of asking for a vote. They were torturing women at that

time in Holloway. It was splendid ammunition and it told. The Liberal

Party was returned to power, but with their majority over all sections

of the House of Commons swept away. The Asquith Government were

dependent now for their very existence on the votes of the Labour Party

and the Irish Nationalists.

CHAPTER VII

The first months of 1910 were occupied by the re-elected Government in a

struggle to keep control of affairs. A coalition with the Irish party,

the leaders of which agreed, if the Home Rule bill were advanced, to

stand by the budget. No publicly announced coalition with the Labour

Party was made at that time, Keir Hardie, at the annual conference of

the party, announcing that they would continue to be independent of the

Government. This was important to us because it meant that the Labour

Party, instead of entering into an agreement to give general support to

all Government measures, would be free to oppose the Government in the

event of the continued withholding of a franchise bill. Other things

combined to make us hopeful that the tide had turned in our favour. It

was hinted to us that the Government were weary of our opposition and

were ready to end the struggle in the only possible way, providing they

could do so without appearing to yield to coercion. We therefore, early

in February, declared a truce to all militancy.

Parliament met on February 15th and the King's speech was read on

February 21st. No mention of women's suffrage was made in the speech nor

was any private member successful in winning a place in the ballot for a

suffrage bill. However, since the situation, on account of the proposed

abolition of the Lord's power of veto, was strained and abnormal, we

decided to wait patiently for a while. It was confidently expected that

another general election would have to be held before the contentions

between the two Houses of Parliament were settled, and this event

unquestionably would have occurred, not later than June, but for the

unexpected death of King Edward VII. This interrupted the strained

situation. The passing of the King served as an occasion for the

temporary softening of animosities and produced a general disposition to

compromise on all troubled issues. The question of women's

enfranchisement was taken up again in this spirit, and in a manner

altogether creditable to the members with whom the movement originated.

A strictly non-party committee on women's suffrage had been established

in the House of Commons in 1887, mainly through the efforts of Miss

Lydia Becker, whom I have mentioned before as the Susan B. Anthony of

the English suffrage movement. In 1906, for reasons not necessary to

enumerate, the original committee had been allowed to lapse, the Liberal

supporters of women's suffrage forming a committee of their own. Now, in

this period of good feeling, at the suggestion of certain members, led

by Mr. H. N. Brailsford, not himself a member of Parliament, formed

another non-party body which they called the Conciliation Committee. Its

object was declared to be the bringing together of the full strength of

suffragists of the House of Commons, regardless of party affiliation,

and of framing a suffrage measure that could be passed by their united

effort. The Earl of Lytton accepted the chairmanship of the committee

and Mr. Brailsford was made its secretary. The committee consisted of

twenty-five Liberals, seventeen Conservatives, six Irish Nationalists,

and six members of the Labour Party. Under difficulties which I can

hardly hope to make clear to American readers the committee laboured to

frame a bill which should win the support of all sections of the House.

The Conservatives insisted on a moderate bill, whilst the Liberals were

concerned lest the terms of the bill should add to the power of the

propertied classes. The original suffrage bill, drafted by my husband.

Dr. Pankhurst, giving the vote to women on equal terms with men, was

abandoned, and a bill was drawn up along the lines of the existing

municipal franchise law. The basis of the municipal franchise is

occupation, and the Conciliation Bill, as first drafted, proposed to

extend the Parliamentary vote to women householders, and to women

occupiers of business premises paying ten pounds rental and upwards. It

was estimated that about ninety-five per cent. of the women who would be

enfranchised under the bill were householders. This, in England, does

not mean a person occupying a whole house. Any one who inhabits even a

single room over which he or she exercises full control is a

householder.

The text of the Conciliation Bill was submitted to all the suffrage

societies and other women's organisations, and it was accepted by every

one of them. Our official newspaper said editorially: "We of the Women's

Social and Political Union are prepared to share in this united and

peaceful action. The new bill does not give us all that we want, but we

are for it if others are also for it."

It seemed certain that an overwhelming majority of the House of Commons

were for the bill, and were prepared to vote it into law. Although we

knew that it could not possibly pass unless the Government agreed that

it should, we hoped that the leaders of all parties and the majority of

their followers would unite in an agreement that the bill should pass.

This settlement by consent is rare in the English Parliament, but some

extremely important and hard fought measures have been carried thus. The

extension of the franchise in 1867 is a case in point.

The Conciliation Bill was introduced into the House of Commons on June

14th, 1910, by Mr. D. J. Shackleton, and was received with the most

extraordinary enthusiasm. The newspapers remarked on the feeling of

reality which marked the attitude of the House towards the bill. It was

plain that the members realised that here was no academic question upon

which they were merely to debate and to register their opinions, but a

measure which was intended to be carried through all its stages and to

be written into English law. The enthusiasm of the House swept all over

the Kingdom. The medical profession sent in a memorial in its favour,

signed by more than three hundred of the most distinguished men and

women in the profession. Memorials from writers, clergymen, social

workers, artists, actors, musicians, were also sent. The Women's Liberal

Federation met and unanimously resolved to ask the Prime Minister to

give full facilities to the bill. Some advanced spirits in the

Federation actually proposed to send then and there a deputation to the

House of Commons with the resolution, but this proposal was rejected as

savouring too much of militancy. A request for an interview was sent to

Mr. Asquith, and he replied promising to receive, at an early day,

representatives of both the Liberal Women's Federation and of the

National Union of Women's Suffrage Societies.

The joint deputation was received by Mr. Asquith on June 21st, and Lady

M'Laren, as a representative of the Women's Liberal Federation, spoke

very directly to her party's leader. She said in part: "If you refuse

our request we shall have to go to the country and say you, who are

against the veto of the House of Lords, are placing a veto on the House

of Commons by refusing to allow a second reading of this bill."

Mr. Asquith replied warily that he could not decide alone on such a

serious matter, but would have to consult his Cabinet, the majority of

whom, he admitted, were suffragists. Their decision, he said, would be

given in the House of Commons.

[Illustration: OVER 1,000 WOMEN HAD BEEN IN PRISON--BROAD ARROWS IN THE

1910 PARADE]

The Women's Social and Political Union arranged a demonstration in

support of the Conciliation Bill, the greatest that had, up to that

time, been made. It was a national, indeed an inter-national affair in

which all the suffrage groups took part, and its massed ranks were so

great that the procession required an hour and a half to pass a given

point. At the head marched six hundred and seventeen women, white clad

and holding long silver staves tipped with the broad arrow. These were

the women who had suffered imprisonment for the cause, and all along the

line of march they received a tribute of cheers from the public. The

immense Albert Hall, the largest hall in England, although it was packed

from orchestra to the highest gallery, was not large enough to hold all

the marchers. Amid great joy and enthusiasm Lord Lytton delivered a

stirring address in which he confidently predicted the speedy advance of

the bill. The women, he declared, had every reason to believe that their

enfranchisement was actually at hand.

It was true that the time for passing a suffrage bill was ripe. Not in

fifty years had the way been so clear, because the momentary absence of

ordinary legislation left the field open for an electoral reform bill.

Yet when the Prime Minister was asked in the House of Commons whether he

would give the members an early opportunity for discussion, the answer

was not encouraging. The Government, said Mr. Asquith, were prepared to

give time before the close of the session for full debate and division

on second reading, but they could not allow any further facilities. He

stated frankly that he personally did not want the bill to pass, but the

Government realised that the House of Commons ought to have an

opportunity, if that was their deliberate desire, for effectively

dealing with the whole question.

This cryptic utterance was taken by the majority of the suffragists, by

the press and by the public generally to mean that the Government were

preparing gracefully to yield to the undoubted desire of the House of

Commons to pass the bill. But the Women's Social and Political Union

were doubtful. Mr. Asquith's remark was ambiguous, and was capable of

being interpreted in several ways. It could mean that he was prepared to

accept the verdict of the majority and let the bill pass through all its

stages. That of course would be the only way to allow the House

opportunity effectively to deal with the whole question. On the other

hand Mr. Asquith might be intending to let the bill pass through its

debating stages and be afterwards smothered in committee. We feared

treachery, but in view of the announcement that the Government had set

apart July 11 and 12 for debate on the second reading, we preserved a

spirit of waiting calm. July 26th had been fixed as the day for the

adjournment of Parliament, and if the bill was voted on favourably on

the 12th there would be ample time to take it through its final stages.

When a bill passes its second reading it is normally sent upstairs to a

Grand Committee which sits while the House of Commons is transacting

other business, and thus the committee stage can proceed without special

facilities. The bill does not go back to the House until the report

stage is reached, at which time the third and last reading occurs. After

that the bill goes to the House of Lords. A week at most is all that is

required for this procedure. A bill may be referred to the Whole House,

and in this case it cannot be brought up for its committee stage unless

it is given special facilities. In our paper and in many public

speeches we urged that the members vote to send the bill to a Grand

Committee.

Some days before the bill reached its second reading it was rumoured

that Mr. Lloyd-George was going to speak against it, but we refused to

credit this. Unfair to women as Mr. Lloyd-George had shown himself in

various ways, he had consistently posed as a staunch friend of women's

suffrage, and we could not believe that he would turn against us at the

eleventh hour. Mr. Winston Churchill, whose speech to the women of

Dundee I quoted in a previous chapter, the promoters of the Bill also

counted upon, as it was known that he had more than once expressed

sympathy with its objects. But when the debates began we found both of

these ardent suffragists arrayed against the bill. Mr. Churchill, after

making a conventional anti-suffrage speech, in which he said that women

did not need the ballot, and that they really had no grievances,

attacked the Conciliation Bill because the class of women who would be

enfranchised under it did not suit him. Some women, he conceded, ought

to be enfranchised, and he thought the best plan would be to select

"some of the best women of all classes" on considerations of property,

education and earning capacity. These special franchises would be

carefully balanced, "so as not on the whole to give undue advantage to

the property vote against the wage earning vote." A more fantastic

proposal and one less likely to find favour in the House of Commons

could not possibly be imagined. Mr. Churchill's second objection to the

bill was that it was anti-democratic! It seemed to us that anything was

more democratic than his proposed "fancy" franchises.

Mr. Lloyd-George said that he agreed with everything Mr. Churchill had

said "both relevant and irrelevant." He made the amazing assertion that

the Conciliation Committee that had drafted the bill was a "committee of

women meeting outside the House." And that this committee said to the

House of Commons not only that they must vote for a women's suffrage

bill but "You must vote for the particular form upon which we agree, and

we will not even allow you to deliberate upon any other form."

Of course these statements were wholly false. The Conciliation Bill was

drafted by men, and it was introduced because the Government had refused

to bring in a party measure. The suffragists would have been only too

glad to have had the Government deliberate on a broader form of

suffrage. Because they refused to deliberate on any form, this private

bill was introduced.

This fact was brought forward in the course of Mr. Lloyd-George's

speech. It had been urged, said he, that this bill was better than none

at all, but why should that be the alternative? "What is the other?"

called out a member, but Mr. Lloyd-George dodged the question with a

careless "Well, I cannot say for the present."

Later on he said: "If the promoters of this bill say that they regard

the second reading merely as an affirmation of the principle of women's

suffrage, and if they promise that when they re-introduce the bill it

will be in a form which will enable the House of Commons to move any

amendment either for restriction or extension I shall be happy to vote

for this bill."

Mr. Philip Snowden, replying to this, said: "We will withdraw this bill

if the Right Honourable gentleman, on behalf of the Government, or the

Prime Minister himself will undertake to give to this House the

opportunity of discussing and carrying through its various stages

another form of franchise bill. If we cannot get that, then we shall

prosecute this bill."

The Government made no reply at all to this, and the debate proceeded.

Thirty-nine speeches were made, the Prime Minister showing plainly in

his speech that he intended to use all his power to prevent the bill

becoming law. He began by saying that a franchise measure ought never to

be sent to a Grand Committee, but to one of the Whole House. He said

also that his conditions, that the majority of women should show beyond

any doubt that they desired the franchise, and that the bill be

democratic in its terms, had not been complied with.

When the division was taken it was seen that the Conciliation Bill had

passed its second reading by a majority of 109, a larger majority than

the Government's far famed budget or the House of Lords Resolution had

received. In fact no measure during that Parliament had received so

great a majority--299 members voted for it as against 190 opposed. Then

the question arose as to which committee should deal with the bill. Mr.

Asquith had said that all franchise bills should go to a Committee of

the Whole House, so that in the division his words moved many sincere

friends of the bill to send it there. Others understood that this was a

mischievous course, but were afraid of incurring the anger of the Prime

Minister. Of course all the anti-suffragists voted the same way, and

thus the bill went to the Whole House.

Even then the bill could have been advanced to its final reading. The

House had time on their hands, as virtually all important legislative

work was halted because of the deadlock between the Lords and the

Commons. Following the death of the King a conference of leaders of the

Conservative and the Liberal Parties had been arranged to adjust the

matters at issue, and this conference had not yet reported. Hence

Parliament had little business on hand. The strongest possible pressure

was brought to bear upon the Government to give facilities to the

Conciliation Bill. A number of meetings were held in support of the

bill. The Men's Political Union for Women's Enfranchisement, the Men's

League for Women's Suffrage and the Conciliation Committee held a joint

meeting in Hyde Park. Some of the old school of suffragists held another

large meeting in Trafalgar Square. The Women's Social and Political

Union, on July 23rd, which was the anniversary of the day in 1867 on

which working men, agitating for their vote, had pulled down the Hyde

Park railings, held another enormous demonstration there. A space of

half a square mile was cleared, forty platforms erected, and two great

processions marched from east and west to the meeting. Many other

suffrage societies co-operated with us on this occasion. On the very

day of that meeting Mr. Asquith wrote to Lord Lytton refusing to allow

any more time for the bill during that session.

Those who still had faith that the Government could be induced to do

justice to women set their hopes on the autumn session of Parliament.

Resolutions urging the Government to give the bill facilities during the

autumn were sent, not only by the suffrage associations but from many

organisations of men. The Corporations of thirty-eight cities, including

Liverpool, Manchester, Glasgow, Dublin and Cork, sent resolutions to

this effect. Cabinet Ministers were besieged with requests to receive

deputations of women, and since the country was on the verge of a

general election, and the Liberal Party wanted the services of women,

their requests could not altogether be ignored. Mr. Asquith, early in

October, received a deputation of women from his own constituency of

East Fife, but all he had to tell them was that the bill could not be

advanced that year. "What about next year?" They asked, and he replied

shortly: "Wait and see."

It had been exceedingly difficult, during these troublous days, to hold

all the members of the W. S. P. U. to the truce, and when it became

perfectly apparent that the Conciliation Bill was doomed, war was again

declared. At a great meeting held in Albert Hall on November 10th, I

myself threw down the gage of battle. I said, because I wanted the whole

matter to be clearly understood by the public as well as by our members:

"This is the last constitutional effort of the Women's Social and

Political Union to secure the passage of the bill into law. If the Bill,

in spite of our efforts, is killed by the Government, then first of all,

I have to say there is an end of the truce. If we are met by the

statement that there is no power to secure on the floor of the House of

Commons time for our measure, then our first step is to say, 'We take it

out of your hands, since you fail to help us, and we resume the

direction of the campaign ourselves.'"

Another deputation, I declared, must go to the House of Commons to carry

a petition to the Prime Minister. I myself would lead, and if no one

cared to follow me I would go alone. Instantly, all over the hall, women

sprang to their feet crying out, "Mrs. Pankhurst, I will go with you!"

"I will go!" "I will go!" And I knew that our brave women were as ever

ready to give themselves, their very lives, if need be, for the cause of

freedom.

The autumn session convened on Friday, November 18th, and Mr. Asquith

announced that Parliament would be adjourned on November 28th. While his

speech was in progress, 450 women, in small groups, to keep within the

strict letter of the law, were marching from Caxton Hall and from the

headquarters of the Union.

[Illustration: THE HEAD OF THE DEPUTATION ON BLACK FRIDAY

_November, 1910_]

How to tell the story of that dreadful day, Black Friday, as it lives in

our memory--how to describe what happened to English women at the behest

of an English Government, is a difficult task. I will try to tell it as

simply and as accurately as possible. The plain facts, baldly stated, I

am aware will strain credulity.

Remember that the country was on the eve of a general election, and that

the Liberal Party needed the help of Liberal women. This fact made the

wholesale arrest and imprisonment of great numbers of women, who were

demanding the passage of the Conciliation Bill, extremely undesirable

from the Government's point of view. The Women's Liberal Federations

also wanted the passage of the Conciliation Bill, although they were not

ready to fight for it. What the Government feared, was that the Liberal

women would be stirred by our sufferings into refraining from doing

election work for the party. So the Government conceived a plan whereby

the Suffragettes were to be punished, were to be turned back and

defeated in their purpose of reaching the House, but would not be

arrested. Orders were evidently given that the police were to be present

in the streets, and that the women were to be thrown from one uniformed

or ununiformed policeman to another, that they were to be so rudely

treated that sheer terror would cause them to turn back. I say orders

were given and as one proof of this I can first point out that on all

previous occasions the police had first tried to turn back the

deputations and when the women persisted in going forward, had arrested

them. At times individual policemen had behaved with cruelty and malice

toward us, but never anything like the unanimous and wholesale brutality

that was shown on Black Friday.

The Government very likely hoped that the violence of the police

towards the women would be emulated by the crowds, but instead the

crowds proved remarkably friendly. They pushed and struggled to make a

clear pathway for us, and in spite of the efforts of the police my small

deputation actually succeeded in reaching the door of the Strangers'

Entrance. We mounted the steps to the enthusiastic cheers of the

multitudes that filled the streets, and we stood there for hours gazing

down on a scene which I hope never to look upon again.

At intervals of two or three minutes small groups of women appeared in

the square, trying to join us at the Strangers' Entrance. They carried

little banners inscribed with various mottoes, "Asquith Has Vetoed Our

Bill," "Where There's a Bill There's a Way," "Women's Will Beats

Asquith's Won't," and the like. These banners the police seized and tore

in pieces. Then they laid hands on the women and literally threw them

from one man to another. Some of the police used their fists, striking

the women in their faces, their breasts, their shoulders. One woman I

saw thrown down with violence three or four times in rapid succession,

until at last she lay only half conscious against the curb, and in a

serious condition was carried away by kindly strangers. Every moment the

struggle grew fiercer, as more and more women arrived on the scene.

Women, many of them eminent in art, in medicine and science, women of

European reputation, subjected to treatment that would not have been

meted out to criminals, and all for the offence of insisting upon the

right of peaceful petition.

[Illustration: FOR HOURS SCENES LIKE THIS WERE ENACTED ON BLACK FRIDAY

_November, 1910_]

This struggle lasted for about an hour, more and more women successfully

pushing their way past the police and gaining the steps of the House.

Then the mounted police were summoned to turn the women back. But,

desperately determined, the women, fearing not the hoofs of the horses

or the crushing violence of the police, did not swerve from their

purpose. And now the crowds began to murmur. People began to demand why

the women were being knocked about; why, if they were breaking the law,

they were not arrested; why, if they were not breaking the law, they

were not permitted to go on unmolested. For a long time, nearly five

hours, the police continued to hustle and beat the women, the crowds

becoming more and more turbulent in their defence. Then, at last the

police were obliged to make arrests. One hundred and fifteen women and

four men, most of them bruised and choked and otherwise injured, were

arrested.

While all this was going on outside the House of Commons, the Prime

Minister was obstinately refusing to listen to the counsels of some of

the saner and more justice-loving members of the House. Keir Hardie, Sir

Alfred Mondell and others urged Mr. Asquith to receive the deputation,

and Lord Castlereagh went so far as to move as an amendment to a

Government proposal, another proposal which would have compelled the

Government to provide immediate facilities to the Conciliation Bill. We

heard of what was going on, and I sent in for one and another friendly

member and made every possible effort to influence them in favour of

Lord Castlereagh's amendment. I pointed to the brutal struggle that was

going on in the square, and I begged them to go back and tell the others

that it must be stopped. But, distressed as some of them undoubtedly

were, they assured me that there was not the slightest chance for the

amendment.

"Is there not a single _man_ in the House of Commons," I cried, "one who

will stand up for us, who will make the House see that the amendment

must go forward?"

Well, perhaps there were men there, but all save fifty-two put their

party loyalty before their manhood, and, because Lord Castlereagh's

proposal would have meant censure of the Government, they refused to

support it. This did not happen, however, until Mr. Asquith had resorted

to his usual crafty device of a promise of future action. In this

instance he promised to make a statement on behalf of the Government on

the following Tuesday.

The next morning the suffrage prisoners were arraigned in police court.

Or rather, they were kept waiting outside the court room while Mr.

Muskett, who prosecuted on behalf of the Chief Commissioner of Police,

explained to the astounded magistrate that he had received orders from

the Home Secretary that the prisoners should all be discharged. Mr.

Churchill it was declared, had had the matter under careful

consideration, and had decided that "no public advantage would be gained

by proceeding with the prosecution, and accordingly no evidence would

be given against the prisoners."

Subdued laughter and, according to the newspapers, some contemptuous

booing were raised in the court, and when order was restored the

prisoners were brought in in batches and told that they were discharged.

On the following Tuesday the W. S. P. U. held another meeting of the

Women's Parliament in Caxton Hall to hear the news from the House of

Commons. Mr. Asquith said: "The Government will, if they are still in

power, give facilities in the next Parliament for effectively proceeding

with a franchise bill which is so framed as to admit of free amendment."

He would not promise that this would be done during the first year of

Parliament.

We had demanded facilities for the Conciliation Bill, and Mr. Asquith's

promise was too vague and too ambiguous to please us. The Parliament now

about to be dissolved had lasted a scant ten months. The next one might

not last longer. Therefore, Mr. Asquith's promise, as usual, meant

nothing at all. I said to the women, "I am going to Downing Street. Come

along, all of you." And we went.

We found a small force of police in Downing Street, and we easily broke

through their line and would have invaded the Prime Minister's residence

had not reinforcements of police arrived on the scene. Mr. Asquith

himself appeared unexpectedly, and as we thought, very opportunely.

Before he could have realised what was happening he found himself

surrounded by angry Suffragettes. He was well hooted and, it is said,

well shaken, before he was rescued by the police. As his taxicab rushed

away some object struck one of the windows, smashing it.

Another Cabinet Minister, Mr. Birrell, unwittingly got into the midst of

the melee, and I am obliged to record that he was pretty thoroughly

hustled. But it is not true that his leg was injured by the women. His

haste to jump into a taxicab resulted in a slightly sprained ankle.

That night and the following day windows were broken in the houses of

Sir Edward Grey, Mr. Winston Churchill, Mr. Lewis Harcourt and Mr. John

Burns; and also in the official residences of the Premier and the

Chancellor of the Exchequer.

That week 160 Suffragettes were arrested, but all except those charged

with window-breaking or assault were discharged. This amazing court

action established two things: First, that when the Home Secretary

stated that he had no responsibility for the prosecution and sentencing

of Suffrage prisoners, he told a colossal falsehood; and second, that

the Government fully realised that it was bad election tactics to be

responsible for the imprisonment of women of good character who were

struggling for citizenship.

CHAPTER VIII

Almost immediately after the events chronicled in the preceding chapter

I sailed for my second tour through the United States. I was delighted

to find a thoroughly alive and progressive suffrage movement, where

before had existed with most people only an academic theory in favour of

equal political rights between men and women. My first meeting, held in

Brooklyn, was advertised by sandwich women walking through the principal

streets of the city, quite like our militant suffragists at home. Street

meetings, I found, were now daily occurrences in New York. The Women's

Political Union had adopted an election policy, and throughout the

country as far west as I travelled, I found women awakened to the

necessity of political action instead of mere discussion of suffrage.

My second visit to America, like my first one, is clouded in my memory

with sorrow. Very soon after my return to England a beloved sister, Mrs.

Mary Clarke died. My sister, who was a most ardent suffragist and a

valued worker in the Women's Social and Political Union, was one of the

women who was shockingly maltreated in Parliament Square on Black

Friday. She was also one of the women who, a few days later, registered

their protest against the Government by throwing a stone through the

window of an official residence. For this act she was sent to Holloway

prison for a term of one month. Released on December 21st, it was plain

to those who knew her best that her health had suffered seriously from

the dreadful experience of Black Friday and the after experience of

prison. She died suddenly on Christmas day, to the profound sorrow of

all her associates. Hers was not the only life that was sacrificed as a

result of that day. Other deaths occurred, mostly from hearts weakened

by overstrain. Miss Henria Williams died on January 2nd, 1911, from

heart failure. Miss Cecelia Wolseley Haig was another victim. Ill

treatment on Black Friday resulted in her case in a painful illness

which ended, after a year of intense suffering, in her death on December

21st, 1911.

It is not possible to publish a full list of all the women who have died

or have been injured for life in the course of the suffrage agitation in

England. In many cases the details have never been made public, and I do

not feel at liberty to record them here. A very celebrated case, which

is public property, is that of Lady Constance Lytton, sister of the Earl

of Lytton, who acted as chairman of the Conciliation Committee. Lady

Constance had twice in 1909 gone to prison as a result of suffrage

activities, and on both occasions had been given special privileges on

account of her rank and family influence. In spite of her protests and

her earnest pleadings to be accorded the same treatment as other

suffrage prisoners, the snobbish and cowardly authorities insisted in

retaining Lady Constance in the hospital cells and discharging her

before the expiration of her sentence. This was done on a plea of her

ill health, and it was true that she suffered from a valvular disease of

the heart.

[Illustration: RIOT SCENES ON BLACK FRIDAY

_November, 1910_]

Smarting under the sense of the injustice done her comrades in this

discrimination, Lady Constance Lytton did one of the most heroic deeds

to be recorded in the history of the suffrage movement. She cut off her

beautiful hair and otherwise disguised herself, put on cheap and ugly

clothing, and as "Jane Warton" took part in a demonstration at

Newcastle, again suffering arrest and imprisonment. This time the

authorities treated her as an ordinary prisoner. Without testing her

heart or otherwise giving her an adequate medical examination, they

subjected her to the horrors of forcible feeding. Owing to her fragile

constitution she suffered frightful nausea each time, and when on one

occasion the doctor's clothing was soiled, he struck her contemptuously

on the cheek. This treatment was continued until the identity of the

prisoner suddenly became known. She was, of course, immediately

released, but she never recovered from the experience, and is now a

hopeless invalid.[2]

I want to say right here, that those well-meaning friends on the outside

who say that we have suffered these horrors of prison, of hunger strikes

and forcible feeding, because we desired to martyrise ourselves for the

cause, are absolutely and entirely mistaken. We never went to prison in

order to be martyrs. We went there in order that we might obtain the

rights of citizenship. We were willing to break laws that we might force

men to give us the right to make laws. That is the way men have earned

their citizenship. Truly says Mazzini that the way to reform has always

led through prison.

The result of the general election, which took place in January, 1911,

was that the Liberal Party was again returned to power. Parliament met

on January 31st, but the session formally opened on February 6th with

the reading of the King's speech. The programme for the session included

the Lords' veto measure, Home Rule, payment for members of Parliament,

and the abolishment of plural voting. Invalid insurance was also

mentioned and certain amendments to the old age pension bill. Women's

suffrage was not mentioned. Nevertheless, we were singularly lucky, the

first three places in the ballot being secured by members of the

Conciliation Committee. Mr. Philips, an Irish member, drew the first

place, but as the Irish party had decided not to introduce any bills

that session, he yielded to Sir George Kemp, who announced that he would

use his place for the purpose of taking a second reading debate on the

new Conciliation Bill. The old bill had been entitled: "A Bill to give

the Vote to Women Occupiers," a title that made amendment difficult. The

new bill bore the more flexible title, "A Bill to Confer the

Parliamentary Franchise on Women," thus doing away with one of Mr.

Lloyd-George's most plausible objections to it. The L10 occupation

clause was omitted, doing away with another objection, that of the

possibility of "faggot voting," that is, of a rich man conferring the

vote on a family of daughters by the simple expedient of making them

tenants of slices of his own property. The Conciliation Bill now read:

"1. Every woman possessed of a household qualification within the

meaning of the Representation of the People Act (1884) shall be entitled

to be registered as a voter, and when registered to vote in the county

or borough in which the qualifying premises are situated.

"2. For the purposes of this Act a woman shall not be disqualified by

marriage for being registered as a voter, provided that a husband and

wife shall not both be registered as voters in the same Parliamentary

borough or county division."

This bill met with even warmer approval than the first one, because it

was believed that it would win votes from those members who felt that

the original measure had fallen short of being truly democratic.

Nevertheless, the Prime Minister showed from the first that he intended

to oppose it, as he had all previous suffrage measures. He announced

that all Fridays up to Easter and also all time on Tuesdays and

Wednesdays usually allowed for private members' bills were to be

occupied with consideration of Government measures. Hardly a Liberal

voice was raised against this arbitrary ruling. The Irish members indeed

were delighted with it, since it gave the Home Rule Bill an advantage.

The Labour members seemed complacent, and the rest of the coalition were

indifferent. One back bench Liberal went so far as to rise and thank the

Prime Minister for the courtesy with which the gagging process was

accomplished. There was some show of fight made by the Opposition, but

Conservative indignation was tempered by the reflection that the

precedent established might be followed to advantage when their party

came into power.

Sir George Kemp then announced that he would take May 5th for the second

reading of the Conciliation Bill, and the supporters of the bill,

according to their various convictions, set to work to further its

interests. The conviction of the W. S. P. U. was that Mr. Asquith's

Government would never allow the bill to pass until they were actually

forced to do so, and we adopted our own methods to secure a definite

pledge from the Government that they would give facilities to the bill.

In April of that year the census was to be taken, and we organised a

census resistance on the part of women. According to our law the census

of the entire kingdom must be taken every ten years on a designated day.

Our plan was to reduce the value of the census for statistical purposes

by refusing to make the required returns. Two ways of resistance

presented themselves. The first and most important was direct resistance

by occupiers who should refuse to fill in the census papers. This laid

the register open to a fine of L5 or a month's imprisonment, and thus

required the exercise of considerable courage. The second means of

resistance was evasion--staying away from home during the entire time

that the enumerators were taking the census. We made the announcement of

this plan and instantly there ensued a splendid response from women and

a chorus of horrified disapproval from the conservative public. The

_Times_ voiced this disapproval in a leading article, to which I

replied, giving our reasons for the protest. "The Census," I wrote, "is

a numbering of the people. Until women count as people for the purpose

of representation in the councils of the nation as well as for purposes

of taxation, we shall refuse to be numbered."

On the subject of laws made by men--without the assistance of women--for

the protection of women and children, I have a very special feeling.

From my experience as poor law guardian and as Registrar of Births and

Deaths, I know how ridiculously, say rather how tragically, these laws

fall short of protection. Take for instance the vaunted "Children's

Charter" of 1906, the measure which spread Mr. Lloyd-George's fame

throughout the world. A volume could be filled with the mistakes and the

cruelties of that Act, the object of which is the preservation and

improvement of child life. A distinguishing characteristic of the Act is

that it puts most of the responsibility for neglect of children on the

backs of the mothers, who, under the laws of England, have no rights as

parents. Two or three especially striking cases of this kind came into

notice about this time, and gave the census resistance an additional

justification.

The case of Annie Woolmore was a very pitiful one. She was arrested and

sentenced to Holloway for six weeks for neglecting her children. The

evidence showed that the woman lived with her husband and children in a

miserable hovel, which would have been almost impossible to keep clean

even if there had been water in the house. As it was the poor soul, who

was in ill health and weakened by deprivation, had to carry all the

water she used across a great distance. The children as well as the

house were very dirty, it was true, but the children were well nourished

and kindly treated. The husband, a labourer, out of work much of the

time, testified that his wife "starved herself to feed the kids." Yet

she had violated the terms of the "Children's Charter" and she went to

prison. I am glad to say that owing to the efforts of suffragists she

was pardoned and provided with a better home.

Another case was that of Helen Conroy, who was charged with living in

one wretched room, with her husband and seven children, the youngest a

month old. According to the law the mother was forbidden to have this

infant in bed with her overnight, yet part of the charge against her was

that the child was found sleeping in a box of damp straw. Doubtless she

would have preferred a cradle, or even a box of dry straw. But direst

poverty made the cradle impossible and the conditions of the tenement

kept the straw damp. Both parents in this instance were sent to prison

for three months at hard labour. The magistrate casually remarked that

the house in which these poor people lived had been condemned two years

before, but some respectable property owner was still collecting rents

from it.

Another poor mother, evicted from her home because she could not pay the

rent, took her four children out into the open country, and when found

was sleeping with them in a gravel pit. She was sent to prison for a

month and the children went to the workhouse.

These sorry mothers, logical results of the subjection of women, are

enough in themselves to justify almost any defiance of a Government who

deny the women the right to work out their destinies in freedom. No

pledge having been secured from the Prime Minister by April 1st, we

carried out, and most successfully, our census resistance. Many

thousands of women all over the country refused or evaded the returns. I

returned my census paper with the words "No vote no census" written

across it, and other women followed that example with similar messages.

One woman filled in the blank with full information about her one man

servant, and added that there were many women but no more persons in her

household. In Birmingham sixteen women of wealth packed their houses

with women resisters. They slept on the floors, on chairs and tables,

and even in the baths. The head of a large college threw open the

building to 300 women. Many women in other cities held all night parties

for friends who wished to remain away from home. In some places

unoccupied houses were rented for the night by resisters, who lay on the

bare boards. Some groups of women hired gipsy vans and spent the night

on the moors.

In London we gave a great concert at Queen's Hall on Census night. Many

of us walked about Trafalgar Square until midnight and then repaired to

Aldwich skating rink, where we amused ourselves until morning. Some

skated while others looked on, and enjoyed the admirable musical and

theatrical entertainment that helped to pass the hours. We had with us a

number of the brightest stars in the theatrical world, and they were

generous in their contributions. It being Sunday night, the chairman had

to call on each of the artists for a "speech" instead of a song or other

turn. An all-night restaurant near at hand did a big business, and on

the whole the resisters had a very good time. The Scala Theatre was the

scene of another all-night entertainment.

There was a good deal of curiosity to see what the Government would

devise in the way of a punishment for the rebellious women, but the

Government realised the impossibility of taking punitive action, and Mr.

John Burns, who, as head of the Local Government Board, was responsible

for the census, announced that they had decided to treat the affair with

magnanimity. The number of evasions, he declared, was insignificant. But

every one knew that this was the exact reverse of the facts.

[Illustration: IN THIS MANNER THOUSANDS OF WOMEN THROUGHOUT THE KINGDOM

SLEPT IN UNOCCUPIED HOUSES OVER CENSUS NIGHT]

The Conciliation Bill was debated on May 5th and passed its second

reading by the enormous majority of 137. And now the public and a

section of the press united in a strong demand that the Government yield

to the undoubted will of the House and grant facilities to the bill. The

Conciliation Committee sent a deputation of members to the Prime

Minister to remind him of his pre-election promise that the House of

Commons should have an opportunity of dealing with the whole question

of woman suffrage, but they succeeded only in getting his assurance that

he had the matter under consideration. Late in the month the

announcement was made in the House that the Government would not grant

facilities during that session, but, since the new bill fulfilled the

conditions named by the Prime Minister, and was now capable of

amendment, the Government recognised it to be their duty to grant

facilities in some session of the present Parliament. They would be

prepared next session, when the bill had been again read for the second

time, either as a result of obtaining a good place in the ballot, or (if

that did not happen) by a grant of a Government day for the purpose, to

give a week, which they understood to be the time suggested as

reasonable by the promoters for its further stages.

This pledge was made in order to deter the W. S. P. U. from making a

militant demonstration in connection with the coronation of the King.

Keir Hardie asked if the Government would, by means of a closure or

otherwise, make certain that the bill would go through in the week, and

the Prime Minister replied, "No, I cannot give an assurance of that

kind. After all, it is a problem of the very greatest magnitude."

This reply seemed to make the Government's pledge practically worthless.

The Conciliation Committee also realised the possibilities of the bill

being talked out, and Lord Lytton wrote to Mr. Asquith and asked him for

assurances that the facilities offered were intended not for academic

discussion but for effective opportunity for carrying the bill. He also

asked that the week offered should not be construed rigidly but that,

providing the committee stage were got through in the time, additional

days for the report and third reading stages might be forthcoming.

Reasonable opportunity for making use of the closure was also asked. To

Lord Lytton's letter the Prime Minister replied as follows:

_My dear Lytton_--In reply to your letter on the subject of the

Women's Enfranchisement Bill, I would refer you to some

observations recently made in a speech at the National Liberal Club

by Sir Edward Grey, which accurately expresses the intention of the

Government.

It follows (to answer your specific inquiries), that the "week"

offered will be interpreted with reasonable elasticity, that the

Government will interpose no reasonable obstacle to the proper use

of the closure, and that if (as you suggest) the bill gets through

committee in the time proposed, the extra days required for report

and third reading will not be refused.

The Government, though divided in opinion on the merits of the

bill, are unanimous in their determination to give effect, not only

in the letter but in the spirit, to the promise in regard to

facilities which I made on their behalf before the last general

election.

Yours etc.,

H. H. ASQUITH.

Sceptical up to this point, the W. S. P. U. was now convinced that the

Government were sincere in their promise to give the bill full

facilities in the following year. We held a joyful mass meeting in

Queen's Hall and I again declared that warfare against the Government

was at an end. Our new policy was the inauguration of a great holiday

campaign, with the object of making victory in 1912 absolutely certain.

Electors must be aroused, members of Parliament held to their

allegiance. Women must be organised in order that questions that vitally

affect the social welfare of the country might be placed before them. I

chose Scotland and Wales as the scenes of my holiday labours.

I may say that our confidence was fully shared by the public at large.

The belief in Mr. Asquith's pledge was accurately reflected in a leader

published in _The Nation_, which said: "From the moment the Prime

Minister signed the frank and ungrudging letter to Lord Lytton which

appeared in last Saturday's newspapers, women became, in all but the

legal formality, voters and citizens. For at least two years, if not for

longer, nothing has been lacking save a full and fair opportunity for

the House of Commons to translate its convictions into the precise

language of a statute. That opportunity has been promised for next

session and promised in terms and under conditions which ensure

success."

The only thing, as we thought, that we had to fear were wrecking

amendments to the bill, and in the new by-election policy which we

adopted we worked against all candidates of every party who would refuse

to promise, not only to support the Conciliation Committee to carry the

bill, but also to vote against any amendment the committee thought

dangerous. We believed that we had covered every possibility of

disaster. But we had something yet to learn of the treachery of the

Asquith Ministry and their capacity for cold-blooded lying.

Mr. Lloyd-George from the first was an open enemy of the bill, but since

we had no doubt of the sincerity of the Prime Minister, we could only

conclude that Mr. Lloyd-George had detached himself from the main body

of the Government and had become the self-constituted leader of the

opposition. In an address to a large Liberal group Mr. Lloyd-George

advised that Liberal members be asked to ballot for a place for a

"democratic measure," in order that such a measure might claim the Prime

Minister's pledge for facilities next session. In one or two other

speeches he made vague allusions to the possibilities of introducing

another suffrage bill. His own idea was to amend the bill to give a vote

to wives of all electors--making married women voters in virtue of their

husband's qualification. The inevitable effect of such an amendment

would be to wreck the bill, since it would have enfranchised about

6,000,000 women in addition to the million and a half who would benefit

by the original terms of the bill. Such a wholesale addition to the

electorate was never known in England; the number enfranchised by the

Reform Bill of 1832 being hardly more than half a million. The Reform

Bill of 1867 admitted a million new voters, and that of 1884 perhaps two

millions. The absurdity of Mr. Lloyd-George's proposition was such that

we did not regard it seriously. We did not allow his opposition to give

us serious alarm until a day in August when a Welsh member, Mr. Leif

Jones, asked the Prime Minister from the floor of the House, whether he

was aware that his promise for facilities for the Conciliation Bill in

the next session was being claimed exclusively for that bill, and asked

further for a statement that the promised facilities would be equally

granted to any other suffrage bill that might secure a second reading

and was capable of amendment. Mr. Lloyd-George, speaking for the

Government, replied that they could not undertake to give facilities to

more than one bill on the same subject, but that any bill which,

satisfying these tests, secured a second reading, would be treated by

them as falling within their engagements.

Astounded at this plain evasion of a sacred promise, Lord Lytton again

wrote to the Prime Minister, reviewing the entire matter, and asking for

another statement of the Government's intentions. The following is the

text of Mr. Asquith's reply:

_My dear Lytton_--I have no hesitation in saying that the promises

made by, and on behalf of the Government, in regard to giving

facilities to the Conciliation Bill, will be strictly adhered to,

both in letter and in spirit.

Yours sincerely,

H. H. ASQUITH.

August 23, 1911.

Again we were reassured, and our confidence in the Premier's pledge

remained unshaken throughout the campaign, although Mr. Lloyd-George

continued to throw out hints that the promises of facilities for the

bill were altogether illusory. We could not believe him, and when, two

months later, I was asked in America: "When will English women vote?" I

replied with perfect conviction, "Next year."

This was in Louisville, Kentucky, where I attended the 1911 Annual

Convention of the National American Woman Suffrage Association.

I remember this third visit to the United States with especial

pleasure. I was the guest in New York of Dr. and Mrs. John Winters

Brannan, and through the courtesy of Dr. Brannan, who is at the head of

all the city hospitals, I saw something of the penal system and the

institutional life of America. We visited the workhouse and the

penitentiary on Blackwell's Island, and although I am told that these

places are not regarded as model institutions, I can assure my readers

that they are infinitely superior to the English prisons where women are

punished for trying to win their political freedom. In the American

prisons, much as they lacked in some essentials, I saw no solitary

confinement, no rule of silence, no deadly air of officialdom. The food

was good and varied, and above all there was an air of kindness and good

feeling between the officials and the prisoners that is almost wholly

lacking in England.

But, after all, in the United States as in other countries, the problem

of the relations between unfranchised women and the State remains

unsolved and unsatisfactory. One night my friends took me to that sombre

and terrible institution, the Night Court for Women. We sat on the bench

with the magistrate, and he very courteously explained everything to us.

The whole business was heart-breaking. All the women, with one

exception--an old drunkard--were charged with solicitation. Most of them

were of high type by nature. It all seemed so hopeless, and it was clear

that they were victims of an evil system. Their conviction was a

foregone conclusion.

The magistrate said that in most cases the reason for their coming

there was economic. One case of a little cigar maker, who said very

simply that she only went on the streets when out of work, and that when

in work she earned $8 a week, was very tragic and touching. I could not

keep the Night Court out of my speeches after that. The whole dreadful

injustice of women's lives seemed mirrored in that place.

I went as far west as the Pacific Coast on this visit, spending

Christmas day in Seattle, and for the first time seeing a community

where women and men existed on terms of exact equality. It was a

delightful experience. As I wrote home to our members, the men of the

western States seemed to my eyes eager, earnest, rough men, building a

great community in a great hurry, but never have I seen greater respect,

courtesy and chivalry shown to women than in that one Suffrage State it

has been my privilege to visit.

I am getting a little ahead of my story, however. It was in November,

when I was in the city of Minneapolis, that a crushing blow descended on

the English suffragists. I learned of this through cabled despatches in

the newspapers and from private cables, and was so staggered that I

could scarcely command myself sufficiently to fill my immediate

engagements. This was the news, that the Government had broken their

plighted word and had deliberately destroyed the Conciliation Bill. My

first wild thought, on hearing of this act of treachery, was to cancel

all engagements and return to England, but my final decision to remain

afterwards proved the right one, because the women at home, without a

moment's loss of time, struck the answering blow, guided by that

insight which has been characteristic of every act of the members of our

Union. I did not return to England until January 11, 1912, and by that

time great deeds had been done. Our movement had entered upon a new and

more vigorous stage of militancy.

FOOTNOTE:

[2] Lady Constance Lytton's story has been thrillingly told in her book

"Prisons and Prisoners," Heinemann.

BOOK III

THE WOMEN'S REVOLUTION

CHAPTER I

Parliament had reassembled on October 25th, 1911, and the first move on

the part of the Government was, to say the least of it, rather

unpropitious. The Prime Minister submitted two motions, the first one

empowering them to take all the time of the House during the remainder

of the session, and the second guillotining discussion on the Insurance

Bill so as to force the measure through before Christmas. One day only

was allotted to the clauses relating to women in that bill. These

clauses were notoriously unfair; they provided for sickness insurance of

about four million women and unemployment insurance of no women at all.

Under the provision of the bill eleven million men were ensured against

sickness and about two and a half million against unemployment. Women

were given lower benefits for the same premium as men, and premiums paid

out of the family income were credited solely to the men's account. The

bill as drafted provided no form of insurance for wives, mothers and

daughters who spent their lives at home working for the family. It

penalised women for staying in the home, which most men agree is women's

only legitimate sphere of action. The amended bill grudgingly allowed

aside from maternity benefits, a small insurance, on rather difficult

terms, for workingmen's wives.

Thus the re-elected Government's first utterance to women was one of

contempt; and this was followed, on November 7th, by the almost

incredible announcement that the Government intended, at the next

session, to introduce a manhood suffrage bill. This announcement was not

made in the House of Commons, but to a deputation of men from the

People's Suffrage Federation, a small group of people who advocated

universal adult suffrage. The deputation, which was very privately

arranged for, was received by Mr. Asquith, and the then Master of

Elibank (Chief Liberal Whip). The spokesman asked Mr. Asquith to bring

in a Government measure for universal adult suffrage, including adult

women. The Prime Minister replied that the Government had pledged

facilities for the Conciliation Bill, which was as far as they were

prepared to go in the matter of women's suffrage. But, he added, the

Government intended in the next session to introduce and to pass through

all its stages a genuine reform bill which would sweep away existing

qualifications for the franchise, and substitute a single qualification

of residence. The bill would apply to adult males only, but it would be

so framed as to be open to a woman suffrage amendment in case the House

of Commons desired to make that extension and amendment.

This portentous announcement came like a bolt from the blue, and there

was strong condemnation of the Government's treachery to women. Said the

_Saturday Review_:

With absolutely no demand, no ghost of a demand, for more votes

for men, and with--beyond all cavil--a very strong demand for votes

for women, the Government announce their Manhood Suffrage Bill and

carefully evade the other question! For a naked, avowed plan of

gerrymandering no Government surely ever did beat this one.

The _Daily Mail_ said that the "policy which Mr. Asquith proposes is

absolutely indefensible." And the _Evening Standard and Globe_ said: "We

are no friends of female suffrage, but anything more contemptible than

the attitude assumed by the Government it is difficult to imagine."

If the Government hoped to deceive any one by their dishonest reference

to the possibility of a woman suffrage amendment, they were

disappointed. Said the _Evening News_:

Mr. Asquith's bombshell will blow the Conciliation Bill to

smithereens, for it is impossible to have a manhood suffrage for

men and a property qualification for women. True, the Premier

consents to leave the question of women's suffrage to the House,

but he knows well enough what the decision of the House will be.

The Conciliation Bill had a chance, but the larger measure has none

at all.

I have quoted these newspaper leaders to show you that our opinion of

the Government's action was shared even by the press. Universal suffrage

in a country where women are in a majority of one million is not likely

to happen in the lifetime of any reader of this volume, and the

Government's generous offer of a possible amendment was nothing more

than a gratuitous insult to the suffragists.

The truce, naturally, came to an abrupt end. The W. S. P. U. wrote to

the Prime Minister, saying that consternation had been aroused by the

Government's announcement, and that it had been decided accordingly to

send a deputation representing the Women's Social and Political Union to

wait upon himself and the Chancellor of the Exchequer, on the evening of

November 21st. The purpose of the deputation was to demand that the

proposed manhood suffrage bill be abandoned, and that in its place

should be introduced a Government measure giving equal franchise rights

to men and women. A similar letter was despatched to Mr. Lloyd-George.

Six times before on occasions of crisis had the W. S. P. U. requested an

interview with Mr. Asquith, and each time they had been refused. This

time the Prime Minister replied that he had decided to receive a

deputation of the various suffrage societies on November 17th,

"including your own society, if you desire it." It was proposed that

each society appoint four representatives as members of the deputation

which would be received by the Prime Minister and the Chancellor of the

Exchequer.

Nine suffrage societies sent representatives to the meeting, our own

representatives being Christabel Pankhurst, Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, Miss

Annie Kenney, Lady Constance Lytton and Miss Elizabeth Robins.

Christabel and Mrs. Lawrence spoke for the Union, and they did not

hesitate to accuse the two Ministers to their faces of having grossly

tricked and falsely misled women. Mr. Asquith, in his reply to the

deputation, resented these imputations.

He had kept his pledge, he insisted, in regard to the Conciliation

Bill. He was perfectly willing to give facilities to the Bill, if the

women preferred that to an amendment to his reform bill. Moreover, he

denied that he had made any new announcement. As far back as 1908 he had

distinctly declared that the Government regarded it as a sacred duty to

bring forward a manhood suffrage bill before that Parliament came to an

end. It was true that the Government did not carry out that binding

obligation, and it was also true that until the present time nothing

more was ever said about a manhood suffrage bill, but that was not the

Government's fault. The crisis of the Lord's veto, had momentarily

displaced the bill. Now he merely proposed to fulfil his promise made in

1908, and also his promise about giving facilities to the Conciliation

Bill. He was ready to keep both promises. Well he knew that those

promises were incompatible, that the fulfilment of both was therefore

impossible, and Christabel told him so bluntly and fearlessly. "We are

not satisfied," she warned him, and the Prime Minister said acidly: "I

did not expect to satisfy _you_."

The reply of the W. S. P. U. was immediate and forceful. Led by Mrs.

Pethick Lawrence, our women went out with stones and hammers and broke

hundreds of windows in the Home Office, the War and Foreign Offices, the

Board of Education, the Privy Council Office, the Board of Trade, the

Treasury, Somerset House, the National Liberal Club, several post

offices, the Old Banqueting Hall, the London and South Western Bank, and

a dozen other buildings, including the residence of Lord Haldane and

Mr. John Burns. Two hundred and twenty women were arrested and about 150

of them sent to prison for terms varying from a week to two months.

One individual protest deserves mention because of its prophetic

character. In December Miss Emily Wilding Davison was arrested for

attempting to set fire to a letter box at Parliament Street Post Office.

In court Miss Davison said that she did it as a protest against the

Government's treachery, and as a demand that women's suffrage be

included in the King's speech. "The protest was meant to be serious,"

she said, "and so I adopted a serious course. In past agitation for

reform the next step after window-breaking was incendiarism, in order to

draw the attention of the private citizens to the fact that this

question of reform was their concern as well as that of women."

Miss Davison received the severe sentence of six months' imprisonment

for her deed.

To this state of affairs I returned from my American tour. I had the

comfort of reflecting that my imprisoned comrades were being accorded

better treatment than the early prisoners had known. Since early in 1910

some concessions had been granted, and some acknowledgment of the

political character of our offences had been made. During the brief

period when these scant concessions to justice were allowed, the hunger

strike was abandoned and prison was robbed of its worst horror, forcible

feeding. The situation was bad enough, however, and I could see that it

might easily become a great deal worse. We had reached a stage at which

the mere sympathy of members of Parliament, however sincerely felt, was

no longer of the slightest use. Reminding our members this, in the first

speeches made after returning to England I asked them to prepare

themselves for more action. If women's suffrage was not included in the

next King's speech we should have to make it absolutely impossible for

the Government to touch the question of the franchise.

The King's speech, when Parliament met in February, 1912, alluded to the

franchise question in very general terms. Proposals, it was stated,

would be brought forward for the amendment of the law with respect to

the franchise and the registration of electors. This might be construed

to mean that the Government were going to introduce a manhood suffrage

bill or a bill for the abolition of plural voting, which had been

suggested in some quarters as a substitute for the manhood suffrage

bill. No precise statement of the Government's intentions was made, and

the whole franchise question was left in a cloud of uncertainty. Mr. Agg

Gardner, a Unionist member of the Conciliation Committee, drew the third

place in the ballot, and he announced that he should reintroduce the

Conciliation Bill. This interested us very slightly, for knowing its

prospect of success to have been destroyed, for we were done with the

Conciliation Bill forever. Nothing less than a Government measure would

henceforth satisfy the W. S. P. U., because it had been clearly

demonstrated that only a Government measure would be allowed to pass the

House of Commons. With sublime faith, or rather with a deplorable lack

of political insight, the Women's Liberal Federation and the National

Union of Women's Suffrage Societies professed full confidence in the

proposed amendment to a manhood suffrage bill, but we knew how futile

was that hope. We saw that the only course to take was to offer

determined opposition to any measure of suffrage that did not include as

an integral part, equal suffrage for men and women.

On February 16th we held a large meeting of welcome to a number of

released prisoners who had served two and three months for the window

breaking demonstration that had taken place in the previous November. At

this meeting we candidly surveyed the situation and agreed on a course

of action which we believed would be sufficiently strong to prevent the

Government from advancing their threatened franchise bill. I said on

this occasion:

"We don't want to use any weapons that are unnecessarily strong. If the

argument of the stone, that time-honoured official political argument,

is sufficient, then we will never use any stronger argument. And that is

the weapon and the argument that we are going to use next time. And so I

say to every volunteer on our demonstration, 'Be prepared to use that

argument.' I am taking charge of the demonstration, and that is the

argument I am going to use. I am not going to use it for any sentimental

reason, I am going to use it because it is the easiest and the most

readily understood. Why should women go to Parliament Square and be

battered about and insulted, and most important of all, produce less

effect than when we throw stones? We tried it long enough. We submitted

for years patiently to insult and assault. Women had their health

injured. Women lost their lives. We should not have minded if that had

succeeded, but that did not succeed, and we have made more progress with

less hurt to ourselves by breaking glass than ever we made when we

allowed them to break our bodies.

"After all, is not a woman's life, is not her health, are not her limbs

more valuable than panes of glass? There is no doubt of that, but most

important of all, does not the breaking of glass produce more effect

upon the Government? If you are fighting a battle, that should dictate

your choice of weapons. Well, then, we are going to try this time if

mere stones will do it. I do not think it will ever be necessary for us

to arm ourselves as Chinese women have done, but there are women who are

prepared to do that if it should be necessary. In this Union we don't

lose our heads. We only go as far as we are obliged to go in order to

win, and we are going forward with this next protest demonstration in

full faith that this plan of campaign, initiated by our friends whom we

honour to-night, will on this next occasion prove effective."

Ever since militancy took on the form of destruction of property the

public generally, both at home and abroad, has expressed curiosity as to

the logical connection between acts such as breaking windows, firing

pillar boxes, et cetera, and the vote. Only a complete lack of

historical knowledge excuses that curiosity. For every advance of men's

political freedom has been marked with violence and the destruction of

property. Usually the advance has been marked by war, which is called

glorious. Sometimes it has been marked by riotings, which are deemed

less glorious but are at least effective. That speech of mine, just

quoted, will probably strike the reader as one inciting to violence and

illegal action, things as a rule and in ordinary circumstances quite

inexcusable. Well, I will call the reader's attention to what was, in

this connection, a rather singular coincidence. At the very hour when I

was making that speech, advising my audience of the political necessity

of physical revolt, a responsible member of the Government, in another

hall, in another city, was telling his audience precisely the same

thing. This Cabinet Minister, the right Honourable C. E. H. Hobhouse,

addressing a large anti-suffrage meeting in his constituency of Bristol,

said that the suffrage movement was not a political issue because its

adherents had failed to prove that behind this movement existed a large

public demand. He declared that "In the case of the suffrage demand

there has not been the kind of popular sentimental uprising which

accounted for Nottingham Castle in 1832 or the Hyde Park railings in

1867. There has not been a great ebullition of popular feeling."

The "popular sentimental uprising" to which Mr. Hobhouse alluded was the

burning to the ground of the castle of the anti-suffrage Duke of

Newcastle, and of Colwick Castle, the country seat of another of the

leaders of the opposition against the franchise bill. The militant men

of that time did not select uninhabited buildings to be fired. They

burned both these historic residences over their owners' heads. Indeed,

the wife of the owner of Colwick Castle died as a result of shock and

exposure on that occasion. No arrests were made, no men imprisoned. On

the contrary the King sent for the Premier, and begged the Whig

Ministers favourable to the franchise bill not to resign, and intimated

that this was also the wish of the Lords who had thrown out the bill.

Molesworth's History of England says:

These declarations were imperatively called for. The danger was

imminent and the Ministers knew it and did all that lay in their

power to tranquillise the people, and to assure them that the bill

was only delayed and not finally defeated.

For a time the people believed this, but soon they lost patience, and

seeing signs of a renewed activity on the part of the anti-suffragists,

they became aggressive again. Bristol, the very city in which Mr.

Hobhouse made his speech, was set on fire. The militant reformers burned

the new gaol, the toll houses, the Bishop's Palace, both sides of

Queen's Square, including the Mansion House, the custom house, the

excise office, many warehouses, and other private property, the whole

valued at over L100,000--five hundred thousand dollars. It was as a

result of such violence, and in fear of more violence, that the reform

bill was hurried through Parliament and became law in June, 1832.

Our demonstration, so mild by comparison with English men's political

agitation, was announced for March 4th, and the announcement created

much public alarm. Sir William Byles gave notice that he would "ask the

Secretary of State for the Home Department whether his attention had

been drawn to a speech by Mrs. Pankhurst last Friday night, openly and

emphatically inciting her hearers to violent outrage and the destruction

of property, and threatening the use of firearms if stones did not prove

sufficiently effective; and what steps he proposes to take to protect

Society from this outbreak of lawlessness."

The question was duly asked, and the Home Secretary replied that his

attention had been called to the speech, but that it would not be

desirable in the public interest to say more than this at present.

Whatever preparations the police department were making to prevent the

demonstration, they failed because, while as usual, we were able to

calculate exactly what the police department were going to do, they were

utterly unable to calculate what we were going to do. We had planned a

demonstration for March 4th, and this one we announced. We planned

another demonstration for March 1st, but this one we did not announce.

Late in the afternoon of Friday, March 1st, I drove in a taxicab,

accompanied by the Hon. Secretary of the Union, Mrs. Tuke and another of

our members, to No. 10 Downing Street, the official residence of the

Prime Minister. It was exactly half past five when we alighted from the

cab and threw our stones, four of them, through the window panes. As we

expected we were promptly arrested and taken to Cannon Row police

station. The hour that followed will long be remembered in London. At

intervals of fifteen minutes relays of women who had volunteered for the

demonstration did their work. The first smashing of glass occurred in

the Haymarket and Piccadilly, and greatly startled and alarmed both

pedestrians and police. A large number of the women were arrested, and

everybody thought that this ended the affair. But before the excited

populace and the frustrated shop owners' first exclamation had died

down, before the police had reached the station with their prisoners,

the ominous crashing and splintering of plate glass began again, this

time along both sides of Regent Street and the Strand. A furious rush of

police and people towards the second scene of action ensued. While their

attention was being taken up with occurrences in this quarter, the third

relay of women began breaking the windows in Oxford Circus and Bond

Street. The demonstration ended for the day at half past six with the

breaking of many windows in the Strand. The _Daily Mail_ gave this

graphic account of the demonstration:

From every part of the crowded and brilliantly lighted streets came

the crash of splintered glass. People started as a window shattered

at their side; suddenly there was another crash in front of them;

on the other side of the street; behind--everywhere. Scared shop

assistants came running out to the pavements; traffic stopped;

policemen sprang this way and that; five minutes later the streets

were a procession of excited groups, each surrounding a woman

wrecker being led in custody to the nearest police station.

Meanwhile the shopping quarter of London had plunged itself into a

sudden twilight. Shutters were hurriedly fitted; the rattle of iron

curtains being drawn came from every side. Guards of

commissionaires and shopmen were quickly mounted, and any

unaccompanied lady in sight, especially if she carried a hand bag,

became an object of menacing suspicion.

At the hour when this demonstration was being made a conference was

being held at Scotland Yard to determine what should be done to prevent

the smashing of windows on the coming Monday night. But we had not

announced the hour of our March 4th protest. I had in my speech simply

invited women to assemble in Parliament Square on the evening of March

4th, and they accepted the invitation. Said the _Daily Telegraph_:

By six o'clock the neighbourhood Houses of Parliament were in a

stage of siege. Shop keepers in almost every instance barricaded

their premises, removed goods from the windows and prepared for the

worst. A few minutes before six o'clock a huge force of police,

amounting to nearly three thousand constables, was posted in

Parliament Square, Whitehall, and streets adjoining, and large

reserves were gathered in Westminster Hall and Scotland Yard. By

half past eight Whitehall was packed from end to end with police

and public. Mounted constables rode up and down Whitehall keeping

the people on the move. At no time was there any sign of danger....

The demonstration had taken place in the morning, when a hundred or more

women walked quietly into Knightsbridge and walking singly along the

streets demolished nearly every pane of glass they passed. Taken by

surprise the police arrested as many as they could reach, but most of

the women escaped.

[Illustration: THE ARGUMENT OF THE BROKEN WINDOW PANE]

For that two days' work something like two hundred suffragettes were

taken to the various police stations, and for days the long procession

of women streamed through the courts. The dismayed magistrates found

themselves facing, not only former rebels, but many new ones, in some

cases, women whose names, like that of Dr. Ethel Smyth, the composer,

were famous throughout Europe. These women, when arraigned, made clear

and lucid statements of their positions and their motives, but

magistrates are not schooled to examine motives. They are trained to

think only of laws and mostly of laws protecting property. Their ears

are not tuned to listen to words like those spoken by one of the

prisoners, who said: "We have tried every means--processions and

meetings--which were of no avail. We have tried demonstrations, and now

at last we have to break windows. I wish I had broken more. I am not in

the least repentant. Our women are working in far worse condition than

the striking miners. I have seen widows struggling to bring up their

children. Only two out of every five are fit to be soldiers. What is the

good of a country like ours? England is absolutely on the wane. You only

have one point of view, and that is the men's, and while men have done

the best they could, they cannot go far without the women and the

women's views. We believe the whole is in a muddle too horrible to think

of."

The coal miners were at that time engaging in a terrible strike, and the

Government, instead of arresting the leaders, were trying to come to

terms of peace with them. I reminded the magistrate of this fact, and I

told him that what the women had done was but a fleabite by comparison

with the miners' violence. I said further: "I hope our demonstration

will be enough to show the Government that the women's agitation is

going on. If not, if you send me to prison, I will go further to show

that women who have to help pay the salaries of Cabinet Ministers, and

your salary too, sir, are going to have some voice in the making of the

laws they have to obey."

I was sentenced to two months' imprisonment. Others received sentences

ranging from one week to two months, while those who were accused of

breaking glass above five pounds in value, were committed for trial in

higher courts. They were sent to prison on remand, and when the last of

us were behind the grim gates, not only Holloway but three other women's

prisons were taxed to provide for so many extra inmates.

It was a stormy imprisonment for most of us. A great many of the women

had received, in addition to their sentences, "hard labour," and this

meant that the privileges at that time accorded to Suffragettes, as

political offenders, were withheld. The women adopted the hunger strike

as a protest, but as the hint was conveyed to me that the privileges

would be restored, I advised a cessation of the strike. The remand

prisoners demanded that I be allowed to exercise with them, and when

this was not answered they broke the windows of their cells. The other

suffrage prisoners, hearing the sound of shattered glass, and the

singing of the Marseillaise, immediately broke their windows. The time

had long gone by when the Suffragettes submitted meekly to prison

discipline. And so passed the first days of my imprisonment.