My own story
when I entered Holloway on that April day in 1913, it was with full
knowledge that I had before me a far more prolonged struggle than any
that the militant suffragists had hitherto faced. I have described the
hunger strike, that terrible weapon with which we had repeatedly broken
our prison bars. The Government, at their wits' end to cope with the
hunger strikers, and to overcome a situation which had brought the laws
of England into such scandalous disrepute, had had recourse to a
measure, surely the most savagely devised ever brought before a modern
Parliament.
In March of that year, while I was waiting trial on the charge of
conspiring to destroy Mr. Lloyd-George's country house, a bill was
introduced into the House of Commons by the Home Secretary, Mr. Reginald
McKenna, a bill which had for its avowed object the breaking down of the
hunger strike. This measure, now universally known as the "Cat and Mouse
Act," provided that when a hunger striking suffrage prisoner (the law
was frankly admitted to apply only to suffrage prisoners) was certified
by the prison doctors to be in danger of death, she could be ordered
released on a sort of a ticket of leave for the purpose of regaining
strength enough to undergo the remainder of her sentence. Released, she
was still a prisoner, the prisoner, or the patient, or the victim, as
you may choose to call her, being kept under constant police
surveillance. According to the terms of the bill the prisoner was
released for a specified number of days, at the expiration of which she
was supposed to return to prison on her own account. Says the Act:
"The period of temporary discharge may, if the Secretary of State
thinks fit, be extended on a representation of the prisoner that
the state of her health renders her unfit to return to prison. If
such representation be made, the prisoner shall submit herself, if
so required, for medical examination by the medical officer of the
above mentioned prison, or other registered medical practitioner
appointed by the Secretary of State.
The prisoner shall notify to the Commissioner of Police of the
Metropolis the place of residence to which she goes on her
discharge. She shall not change her residence without giving one
clear day's notice in writing to the Commissioner, specifying the
residence to which she is going and she shall not be temporarily
absent from her residence for more than twelve hours without giving
a like notice," etc.
The idea of militant suffragists respecting a law of this order is
almost humorous, and yet the smile dies before the pity one feels for
the Minister whose confession of failure is embodied in such a measure.
Here was a mighty Government weakly resolved that justice to women it
would not grant, knowing that submission of women it could not force,
and so was willing to compromise with a piece of class legislation
absolutely contrary to all of its avowed principles. Said Mr. McKenna,
pleading in the House for the advancement of his odious measure: "At the
present time I cannot make these prisoners undergo their sentences
without serious risk of death and I want to have power to enable me to
compel a prisoner to undergo the sentence, and I want that power in all
cases where the prisoner adopts the system of the hunger strike. At the
present moment, although I have the power of release, I cannot release a
prisoner without a pardon, and I have to discharge them for good. I want
the power of releasing a prisoner without a pardon, with the sentence
remaining alive.... I want to enforce the Law, and I want, if I can, to
enforce it without forcible feeding, and without undergoing the risk of
some one else's life."
Interrogated by several members, Mr. McKenna admitted that the "Cat and
Mouse" bill, if passed, would not inevitably do away with forcible
feeding, but he promised that the hateful and disgusting process would
be resorted to only when "absolutely necessary." We shall see later how
hypocritical this representation was.
Parliament, which had never had time to consider, beyond its initial
stages, a women's suffrage measure, passed the Cat and Mouse Act through
both houses within the limits of a few days. It was already law when I
entered Holloway on April 3rd, 1913, and I grieve to state that many
members of the Labour Party, pledged to support woman suffrage, helped
to make it into law.
Of course the Act was, from its inception, treated by the suffragists
with the utmost contempt. We had not the slightest intention of
assisting Mr. McKenna in enforcing unjust sentences against soldiers in
the army of freedom, and when the prison doors closed behind me I
adopted the hunger strike exactly as though I expected it to prove, as
formerly, a means of gaining my liberty.
That struggle is not a pleasant one to recall. Every possible means of
breaking down my resolution was resorted to. The daintiest and most
tempting food was placed in my cell. All sorts of arguments were brought
to bear against me--the futility of resisting the Cat and Mouse Act, the
wickedness of risking suicide--I shall not attempt to record all the
arguments. They fell against a blank wall of consciousness, for my
thoughts were all very far away from Holloway and all its torments. I
knew, what afterwards I learned as a fact, that my imprisonment was
followed by the greatest revolutionary outbreak that had been witnessed
in England since 1832. From one end of the island to the other the
beacons of the women's revolution blazed night and day. Many country
houses--all unoccupied--were fired, the grand stand of Ayr race course
was burned to the ground, a bomb was exploded in Oxted Station, London,
blowing out walls and windows, some empty railroad carriages were blown
up, the glass of thirteen famous paintings in the Manchester Art Gallery
were smashed with hammers--these are simply random specimens of the
general outbreak of secret guerilla warfare waged by women to whose
liberties every other approach had been barricaded by the Liberal
Government of free England. The only answer of the Government was the
closing of the British Museum, the National Gallery, Windsor Castle, and
other tourist resorts. As for the result on the people of England, that
was exactly what we had anticipated. The public were thrown into a state
of emotion of insecurity and frightened expectancy. Not yet did they
show themselves ready to demand of the Government that the outrages be
stopped in the only way they could be stopped--by giving votes to women.
I knew that it would be so. Lying in my lonely cell in Holloway, racked
with pain, oppressed with increasing weakness, depressed with the heavy
responsibility of unknown happenings, I was sadly aware that we were but
approaching a far goal. The end, though certain, was still distant.
Patience, and still more patience, faith and still more faith, well, we
had called upon these souls' help before and it was certain that they
would not fail us at this greatest crisis of all.
Thus in great anguish of mind and body passed nine terrible days, each
one longer and more acutely miserable than the preceding. Towards the
last, I was mercifully half unconscious of my surroundings. A curious
indifference took possession of my over-wrought mind, and it was almost
without emotion that I heard, on the morning of the tenth day, that I
was to be released temporarily in order to recover my health. The
Governor came to my cell and read me my licence, which commanded me to
return to Holloway in fifteen days, and meanwhile to observe all the
obsequious terms as to informing the police of my movements. With what
strength my hands retained I tore the document in strips and dropped it
on the floor of the cell. "I have no intention," I said, "of obeying
this infamous law. You release me knowing perfectly well that I shall
never voluntarily return to any of your prisons."
They sent me away, sitting bolt upright in a cab, unmindful of the fact
that I was in a dangerous condition of weakness, having lost two stone
in weight and suffered seriously from irregularities of heart action. As
I left the prison I was gratefully aware of groups of our women standing
bravely at the gates, as though enduring a long vigil. As a matter of
fact, relays of women had picketed the place night and day during the
whole term of my imprisonment. The first pickets were arrested, but as
others constantly arrived to fill their places the police finally gave
in and allowed the women to march up and down before the prison carrying
the flag.
At the nursing home to which I was conveyed I learned that Annie Kenney,
Mrs. Drummond, and our staunch friend, Mr. George Lansbury,[5] had been
arrested during my imprisonment, and that all three had adopted the
hunger strike. I also learned on my own account how desperately the
Government were striving to make their Cat and Mouse Act--the last stand
in their losing campaign--a success. Without regard to the extra expense
laid on the unfortunate tax payers of the country, the Government
employed a large extra force of police especially for this purpose. As
I lay in bed, being assisted by every medical resource to return to life
and health, these special police, colloquially termed "Cats," guarded
the nursing home as if it were a besieged castle. In the street under my
windows two detectives and a constable stood on guard night and day. In
a house at right angles to my refuge three more detectives kept constant
watch. In the mews at the rear of the house were more detectives, and
diligently patrolling the road, as if in expectation of a rescuing
regiment, two taxicabs, each with its quota of detectives, guarded the
highways.
All this made recovery slow and difficult. But worse was to come. On
April 30th, just as I was beginning to rally somewhat, came the news
that the police had swooped down on our headquarters in Kingsway and had
arrested the entire official force. Miss Barrett, associate editor of
_The Suffragette_; Miss Lennox, the sub-editor; Miss Lake, business
manager; Miss Kerr, office manager, and Mrs. Sanders, financial
secretary of the Union, were arrested, although not one of them had ever
appeared in any militant action. Mr. E. G. Clayton, a chemist, was also
arrested, accused of furnishing the W. S. P. U. with explosive
materials. The offices were thoroughly searched, and, as on a former
occasion, stripped of all books and papers. While this was being done
another party of police, armed with a special warrant, proceeded to the
printing office where our paper, _The Suffragette_, was published. The
printer, Mr. Drew, was placed under arrest and the material for the
paper, which was to appear on the following day, was seized. By one
o'clock in the afternoon the entire plant and the headquarters of the
Union were in the hands of the police, and to all appearances the
militant movement--temporarily at least--was brought to a full stop. In
my state of semi-prostration it at first seemed to me best to let the
week's issue of the paper lapse, but on second thought I decided that
even the appearance of surrender was not to be thought of. How we
managed it need not here be told, but we actually did, overnight, with
hardly any material, except Christabel's leading article, and with
hastily summoned helpers, get out the paper as usual, and side by side
with the morning journals which bore front page stories of the
suppression of the Suffragette organ, our paper sellers sold _The
Suffragette_. The front page bore, instead of the usual cartoon, the
single word in bold faced type--
"RAIDED,"
the full story of the police search and the arrests being related in the