My own story
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."
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