My own story
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.
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.
CHAPTER II
The panic stricken Government did not rest content with the imprisonment
of the window breakers. They sought, in a blind and blundering fashion,
to perform the impossible feat of wrecking at a blow the entire militant
movement. Governments have always tried to crush reform movements, to
destroy ideas, to kill the thing that cannot die. Without regard to
history, which shows that no Government have ever succeeded in doing
this, they go on trying in the old, senseless way.
For days before the two demonstrations described in the last chapter our
headquarters in Clement's Inn had been under constant observation by the
police, and on the evening of March 5th an inspector of police and a
large force of detectives suddenly descended on the place, with warrants
for the arrest of Christabel Pankhurst and Mr. and Mrs. Pethick
Lawrence, who with Mrs. Tuke and myself were charged with "conspiring to
incite certain persons to commit malicious damage to property." When the
officers entered they found Mr. Pethick Lawrence at work in his office,
and Mrs. Pethick Lawrence in her flat upstairs. My daughter was not in
the building. The Lawrences, after making brief preparations drove in a
taxicab to Bow Street Station, where they spent the night. The police
remained in possession of the offices, and detectives were despatched
to find and arrest Christabel. But that arrest never took place.
Christabel Pankhurst eluded the entire force of detectives and uniformed
police, trained hunters of human prey.
Christabel had gone home, and at first, on hearing of the arrest of Mr.
and Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, had taken her own arrest for granted. A
little reflection however showed her the danger in which the Union would
stand if completely deprived of its accustomed leadership, and seeing
that it was her duty to avoid arrest, she quietly left the house. She
spent that night with friends who, next morning, helped her to make the
necessary arrangements and saw her safely away from London. The same
night she reached Paris, where she has since remained. My relief, when I
learned of her flight, was very great, because I knew that whatever
happened to the Lawrences and myself, the movement would be wisely
directed, this in spite of the fact that the police remained in full
possession of headquarters.
The offices in Clement's Inn were thoroughly ransacked by the police, in
a determined effort to secure evidence of conspiracy. They went through
every desk, file and cabinet, taking away with them two cab loads of
books and papers, including all my private papers, photographs of my
children in infancy, and letters sent me by my husband long ago. Some of
these I never saw again.
The police also terrorised the printer of our weekly newspaper, and
although the paper came out as usual, about a third of its columns were
left blank. The headlines, however, with the ensuing space mere white
paper produced a most dramatic effect. "History Teaches" read one
headline to a blank space, plainly indicating that the Government were
not willing to let the public know some of the things that history
teaches. "Women's Moderation" suggested that the destroyed paragraph
called for comparison of the women's window breaking with men's greater
violence in the past. Most eloquent of all was the editorial page,
absolutely blank except for the headline, "A Challenge!" and the name at
the foot of the last column, Christabel Pankhurst. What words could have
breathed a prouder defiance, a more implacable resolve? Christabel was
gone, out of the clutches of the Government, yet she remained in
complete possession of the field. For weeks the search for her went
relentlessly on. Police searched every railway station, every train,
every sea port. The police of every city in the Kingdom were furnished
with her portrait. Every amateur Sherlock Holmes in England joined with
the police in finding her. She was reported in a dozen cities, including
New York. But all the time she was living quietly in Paris, in daily
communication with the workers in London, who within a few days were
once more at their appointed tasks. My daughter has remained in France
ever since.
Meanwhile, I found myself in the anomalous position of a convicted
offender serving two months' prison sentence, and of a prisoner on
remand waiting to be charged with a more serious offence. I was in very
bad health, having been placed in a damp and unwarmed third division
cell, the result being an acute attack of bronchitis. I addressed a
letter to the Home Secretary, telling him of my condition, and urging
the necessity of liberty to recover my health and to prepare my case for
trial. I asked for release on bail, the plain right of a remand
prisoner, and I offered if bail were granted now to serve the rest of my
two months' sentence later on. The sole concessions granted me, however,
were removal to a better cell and the right to see my secretary and my
solicitor, but only in the presence of a wardress and a member of the
prison clerical staff. On March 14th Mr. and Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, Mrs.
Tuke and myself were brought up for preliminary hearing on the charge of
having, on November 1, 1911, and on various other dates "conspired and
combined together unlawfully and maliciously to commit damage, etc." The
case opened on March 14th in a crowded courtroom in which I saw many
friends. Mr. Bodkin, who appeared for the prosecution, made a very long
address, in which he endeavoured to prove that the Women's Social and
Political Union was a highly developed organisation of most sinister
character. He produced much documentary evidence, some of it of such
amusing character that the court rocked with stifled laughter, and the
judge was obliged to conceal his smiles behind his hand. Mr. Bodkin
cited our code book with the assistance of which we were able to
communicate private messages. His voice sank to a scandalised half
whisper as he stated the fact that we had presumed to include the sacred
persons of the Government in our private code. "We find," said Mr.
Bodkin portentously, "that public men in the service of His Majesty as
members of the Cabinet are tabulated here under code names. We find that
the Cabinet collectively has its code word "Trees," and individual
members of the Cabinet are designated by the name, sometimes of trees,
but I am also bound to say the commonest weeds as well." Here a ripple
of laughter interrupted. Mr. Bodkin frowned heavily, and continued:
"There is one," he said solemnly, "called Pansy; another one--more
complimentary--Roses, another, Violets, and so on." Each of the
defendants was designated by a code letter. Thus Mrs. Pankhurst was
identified by the letter F; Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, D; Miss Christabel
Pankhurst, E. Every public building, including the House of Commons, had
its code name. The deadly possibilities of the code were illustrated by
a telegram found in one of the files. It read: "Silk, thistle, pansy,
duck, wool, E. Q." Translated by the aid of the code book the telegram
read: "Will you protest Asquith's public meeting to-morrow evening but
don't get arrested unless success depends on it. Wire back to Christabel
Pankhurst, Clements Inn."
More laughter followed these revelations, which after all proved no more
than the business-like methods employed by the W. S. P. U. The laughter
proved something a great deal more significant, for it was a plain
indication that the old respect in which Cabinet Ministers had been held
was no more. We had torn the veil from their sacro-sanct personalities
and shown them for what they were, mean and scheming politicians. More
serious from the point of view of prosecution was the evidence brought
in by members of the police department in regard to the occurrences of
March 1st and 4th. The policemen who arrested me and my two companions