diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 05:41:02 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 05:41:02 -0800 |
| commit | 5caaa5400353bd16aea48badc4798f22eb09cc9d (patch) | |
| tree | 53f19a304fd29943c25007d7b0003134c0e4f451 | |
| parent | 4e3413d3505e7d9f40dba229087683d3ff0f38e6 (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52944-0.txt | 9836 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52944-0.zip | bin | 223294 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52944-h.zip | bin | 562615 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52944-h/52944-h.htm | 13678 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52944-h/images/acorn.jpg | bin | 738 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52944-h/images/catalog_logo.jpg | bin | 11642 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52944-h/images/constance_lytton.jpg | bin | 92162 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52944-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 96205 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52944-h/images/jane_warton.jpg | bin | 85250 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52944-h/images/medallion.jpg | bin | 29875 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52944-h/images/title_logo.jpg | bin | 8722 -> 0 bytes |
14 files changed, 17 insertions, 23514 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..37d7bc0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52944 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52944) diff --git a/old/52944-0.txt b/old/52944-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 06e6ff3..0000000 --- a/old/52944-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9836 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Prisons & Prisoners, by Constance Lytton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Prisons & Prisoners - Some Personal Experiences - -Author: Constance Lytton - -Release Date: August 31, 2016 [EBook #52944] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONS & PRISONERS *** - - - - -Produced by MWS, Fay Dunn and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - - -Words in italics are marked with _underscores_. - -Words in small capitals are shown in UPPER CASE. - -Words marked with =equals signs= were originally printed in bold, -italics and were underlined. - -The names under the photographs were originally handwritten. - -Footnotes have been moved to the end of paragraphs. - -The photograph of Jane Warton has been moved, the page number in the -list of illustrations refers to its original position in the book. - -Variant spelling, misspelt names and inconsistent hyphenation are -retained, a few palpable printing errors have been corrected. - -The ⁂ character was originally printed as an inverted asterism. - - - - -PRISONS AND PRISONERS - - - - - +----------------------------------------+ - | MY FATHER | - | | - | PERSONAL AND SPIRITUAL REMINISCENCES | - | | - | By ESTELLE W. STEAD | - | | - | Demy 8vo. Price 10/- net | - | | - | LONDON WILLIAM HEINEMANN | - +----------------------------------------+ - - - - -[Illustration: - _Holman & Paget, photographers_ - _Emery Walker Ph. Sc._ - - Constance Lytton] - - - - - PRISONS & PRISONERS - - SOME PERSONAL EXPERIENCES - - By CONSTANCE LYTTON AND - JANE WARTON, SPINSTER - - - WITH PORTRAITS - - [Illustration: W H (Publisher’s logo)] - - LONDON WILLIAM HEINEMANN - - - - -_Copyright_, 1914. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - - DEDICATION. - - I. INTRODUCTION 1 - - II. MY CONVERSION 9 - - III. A DEPUTATION TO THE PRIME MINISTER 31 - - IV. POLICE COURT TRIAL 54 - - V. HOLLOWAY PRISON: MY FIRST IMPRISONMENT 68 - - VI. THE HOSPITAL 92 - - VII. SOME TYPES OF PRISONERS 114 - - VIII. “A TRACK TO THE WATER’S EDGE” 138 - - IX. FROM THE CELLS 173 - - X. NEWCASTLE: POLICE STATION CELL 201 - - XI. NEWCASTLE PRISON: MY SECOND IMPRISONMENT 222 - - XII. JANE WARTON 234 - - XIII. WALTON GAOL, LIVERPOOL: MY THIRD IMPRISONMENT 259 - - XIV. THE HOME OFFICE 296 - - XV. THE CONCILIATION BILL 311 - - XVI. HOLLOWAY PRISON REVISITED: MY FOURTH IMPRISONMENT 320 - - - - -PUBLISHER’S NOTE - - -_The Publisher hopes that fault will not be found if he disclaims -agreement with some of Lady Constance Lytton’s views expressed in -this volume, notwithstanding the fact that he is glad to offer it to -the public. He feels that personal disagreement over details should -not hinder him from publishing this splendid story of heroism and -unselfishness._ - - - - -DEDICATION TO PRISONERS - - -When, for a short while, I shared your lot, I asked myself through all -my waking hours if there were any friendly thought which could act -beneficently for all prisoners, no matter how various the training -of their previous lives, no matter whether distress of circumstance, -drunkenness, selfish action, cruelty, or madness had been the cause -which brought them into prison. - -And there seemed this one thing. It is a single idea, but needs many -words to give it shape. - -Lay hold of your inward self and keep tight hold. Reverence yourself. -Be just, kind and forgiving to yourself. For the inner you of yourself -is surely the only means of communication for you with any good -influence you may once have enjoyed or hope some day to find, the only -window through which you can look upon a happier and more lovable -life, the only door through which some day you will be able to escape, -unbarring it to your own release from all that is helpless, selfish, -and unkind in your present self. - -Public opinion, which sent you to prison, and your gaolers, who have to -keep you there, are mostly concerned with your failings. Every hour of -prison existence will remind you of these afresh. Unless you are able -to keep alight within yourself the remembrance of acts and thoughts -which were good, a belief in your own power to exist freely when you -are once more out of prison, how can any other human being help you? If -not the inward power, how can any external power avail? - -But if you have this comforter within you, hourly keeping up -communication with all that you have known and loved of good in your -life, with all the possibilities for good that you know of--in your -hands, your mind, your heart--then when you are released from prison, -however lonely you may be, or poor, or despised by your neighbours, you -will have a friend who can really help you. - -There will be people who visit you in prison, and who watch over you -at first when you come out. They will try to help you, but unless they -truly understand your lot, understanding your goodness as well as -your badness, and sympathising with your badness as well as with your -goodness, they will seem far off from you. Who knows, though, but what -you may help them? In my ignorance and impudence I went into prison -hoping to help prisoners. So far as I know, I was unable to do anything -for them. But the prisoners helped me. They seemed at times the direct -channels between me and God Himself, imbued with the most friendly and -powerful goodness that I have ever met. - -Prisoners, I wish I could give to you, for your joy, something of the -help you gave to me, and that in many ways I could follow your example. - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PORTRAIT OF LADY CONSTANCE LYTTON _Frontispiece_. - - PORTRAIT OF JANE WARTON, SPINSTER _to face p. 114_. - - - THE MEDALLION ON COVER BY MISS SYLVIA PANKHURST WITH GRATEFUL THANKS. - - - - -CHAPTER I - -INTRODUCTION - - -Some of the experiences which I have to record are of so unusual a -character that I think it will help to a better understanding on the -part of my readers if I briefly outline the drift of my existence -before I became aware of the women’s movement, and in touch with that -section of it known as the “Militant Suffragettes.” - -My father had been dead fifteen years and I was thirty-nine years -old in 1906, when my narrative begins. I lived with my mother in the -country. Two sisters and two brothers had left the home when they -were young--the sisters to marry, the brothers to train for and enter -their professions. I assumed, as did all my friends and relations, -that, being past the age when marriage was likely, I should always -remain at home. In my early girlhood I had a yearning to take up -music professionally; again, after father’s death, when unexpected -financial misfortunes caused my mother great anxiety, I had longed to -try my hand at journalism; and once more, a few years later, I had -the same ambition. But these wishes, finding no favour, had in each -case eventually to be repressed, and in 1906 I had neither equipment, -training nor inclination for an independent life. - -I had been more or less of a chronic invalid through the greater part -of my youth. An overmastering laziness and a fatalistic submission -to events as they befell were guiding factors in my existence. I was -passionately fond of animals and of children, music was a great delight -to me; otherwise I was not given to intellectual pursuits. So far as -I know, I was an average ordinary human being, except perhaps for an -exaggerated dislike of society and of publicity in any form. I had many -intimate friends, both men and women, and also children. Such mental -training as I have known was chiefly due to intercourse with them. I -owed to them, as well as to my mother and many members of my family, a -happy life, in spite of considerable physical suffering. - -In 1896 and successive years I had given secretarial help to my aunt, -Mrs. C. W. Earle, in the writing of her wonderfully delightful books, -beginning with “Pot Pourri from a Surrey Garden.” She insisted that, -in return for my small and mostly mechanical services, we should share -the profits of the sale. The book ran into many editions, and she held -to her bargain, but I never felt as if I had a right to the money. Her -widely sympathetic and stimulating companionship had a great influence -on my mind. Thanks to her investigations in theories of diet, I became -a strict vegetarian. My health gained in all directions and I gradually -freed myself from the so-called “constitutional” rheumatism from which -I had suffered since my infancy. I realised, too, that all these years -I had caused untold suffering that I might be fed, and determined that -in future the unnatural death of an animal should not be necessary to -make up my bill of fare. My vitality increased, but the notion of a -vocation apart from my family and home remained as foreign to my ideas -as it was then to the average British spinster of my class. - -In the year 1906 my godmother, Lady Bloomfield, died. She had shown me -much kindness and I had never found an opportunity to serve her in any -way, the generosity had been all on her side; yet, at her death, she -left me some money, without any conditions as to how I should spend -it. It gave me a strange new feeling of power and exhilaration. I look -back upon this event as being spiritually the starting point in my -new life, of which this book will tell, although, from the practical -point of view, it seems only by a series of coincidences that my after -experiences were evolved from it. - -I looked about me with a view to spending the money. I had a fancy -to put it to some public use. The commonly accepted channels of -philanthropy did not appeal to me. I shifted my inquiries in other -directions. I remember that at this time I was chiefly occupied -with the idea that reformers were for the most part town dwellers, -their philosophy and schemes attuned to those surroundings. There -seemed to me need for a counteracting influence to attempt reform and -regeneration on behalf of country dwellers. The noiseless revolution -which had been worked in a few decades by the system of compulsory -education seemed to me tainted throughout by the ideals of townsfolk. -The influence of teachers and clergy, of public authorities in general, -sets before the nation’s children and their parents ideals which mould -them into townsfolk. Country craft and country lore grow less, and -are less honoured in every decade. There is no room for them in the -national curriculum. This tendency, nevertheless, seems unnatural, -imposed by a species of force on a reluctant though inarticulate -people. Some temperaments cannot acclimatise themselves to town -dwelling. The life of cities will always appear to them artificial, -repellent from the physical conditions it imposes and the mental -outlook resulting from these. Rain, earth and air are better scavengers -than any municipal corporation. The ceaseless cleansing, yet never -making clean, of town existence has from my childhood fretted my -imagination and produced a sense of incarceration. In towns, the earth -is laid over with tombstones, metalled roads or floors of wood. Avenues -of bricks and mortar shut out a great part of the sky, limiting into -a mere ceiling the heavens which should be our surrounding. A town -had always seemed to me a “deterrent” workhouse at best, and often a -punitive prison besides. - -The monster of industrialism, which followed in the wake of -the discovery of steam and the dethroning of handicraft by -artificially-propelled machinery, may one day be bridled and controlled -so as to be a servant of humanity, a fellow worker in the day-to-day -glory of creation; but for the present it is still a wild beast, a -dragon at large, dealing pestilence and death with its fiery breath, -combated in panic, its evils evaded rather than faced, its power a -nightmare breeding fear and subjection. Instead of harnessing this -new force to every branch of our existence, ordering it to serve us -at our command, we have cringed before it, left our normal lives and -drained our energies to congregate in its grimy temples and worship at -its shrine. Poor, blind force that it is, we are determined to make -it an idol, and for sake of the return in money which its mechanical -rotations produce, we have been willing to sacrifice the interests both -of the human beings which should control it and of the soil, the land, -which alone can produce the raw material for its task. - -How to transform this Moloch from a tyrannous master to a helpful, -submissive friend, that was the problem which seemed to cry out for -solution above all others. I looked around to see how the needs of -country folk were able to express themselves, and everywhere there was -presented to my inquiries a complicated machinery of administration -both national and local--voting rights for election of parliamentary, -municipal, county, district and parish councils. But this machinery was -apparently born and bred of urban conditions, super-imposed upon the -rural districts, in no way native to them, not of spontaneous growth. -This succession of councils, instituted with the apparent purpose of -watching one another, and, if necessary, bringing pressure to bear -upon one another, were for the most part lifeless formalities, having -no organic life, no breath of reality to set them in motion. The only -function which gives them any tangible vitality is their power of -imposing taxation and levying rates. You find in the country districts -that members of these different bodies are the same individuals. The -parish councillor who is expected to bring pressure to bear on the -district councillor, who again must appeal, if need be, to the county -councillor, is one and the same person who, as likely as not, is also -the representative of the district on the board of guardians, and he is -sure to be selected again to work the administrative machinery of every -new device that comes along for the amelioration of social evils. In -other words, the elective principle is a farce in rural districts. The -electorate are dead both to their powers and their duties. They live, -in fact, under a system which is anything but representative. They live -rather, under the devitalised husk of the feudal system, the poorer -members of the community dependent, in the worst sense, upon those -who are their social superiors, but no longer receiving from them any -security of well-being, and neither class extending to the other, with -rare exceptions, either the loyalty or devotion which seem to have been -bound up with the feudal traditions of our forefathers. Was it possible -to wake up this inert mass, so that they should co-operate with one -another, and thus be strong enough to grasp the present machinery of -national Government, and either utilise it or alter it to one better -suited to their needs? - -Each of my inquiries in turn led me back to the individuals concerned, -to the human beings themselves. What were their homes, their ambitions, -thoughts, beliefs? What guidance do they give to those who wish to -serve them? I groped my way blindly and acquired knowledge only in a -negative sense by a series of failures. I gleaned two general precepts -from my investigations. They were these: It is useless to try and help -the lives of a community without consulting the individuals whom you -hope to benefit, and that to benefit the life conditions of men does -not necessarily benefit the life conditions of women, although their -interests may be apparently identical as to social grade, locality, -religious and other beliefs. - -After a series of barren experiments, I stumbled by chance on a piece -of social radium, a regenerative agency that bore good fruit and that -contained an element of spontaneous joy most refreshing compared to the -oppressive straight-jackets of national or private philanthropists. -I heard of the revival of folk songs and dances. I went to see and -hear them. The first performance opened the door for me into a new -paradise. The Esperance Club of working girls had been the means of -bringing to life researches of antiquarian musical students. This -club had evidently been for many years an unusually successful social -enterprise, but the discovery of a lost treasure in the shape of -traditional songs and dances gave it a new inspiration. Both words and -tunes of the songs have come, generation after generation, from the -heart of the English folk. Each generation, each individual who has -sung them, has added or omitted some little touch, so that in these -songs, which have been mostly collected from old men and women over -eighty years of age, is expressed the very soul of English national -sentiment. The same with the dances. They were traditional in families -or localities, they had been handed down from father to son, and were -as truly folk dances as the songs were folk songs. Songs and dances -alike are full of life on the land and love of the land, of flowers, -animals and crops, of the daily lives of men, women and children. -Dramatic, tragic and comic incidents find spontaneous expression, and -every one of them tells of a vigorous and mainly joyous existence. The -girls of this club learnt the Morris dance first from two Oxfordshire -countrymen. Both the dances and songs were acquired easily “by a sort -of spiritual sixth sense,” as if the rhythm and meaning of them were -latent in their being and were easily re-awakened. The girls not -only learnt quickly, but were inspired to teach others, young girls -of seventeen and eighteen showing an amazing facility and power of -organisation in this matter. One of these came, at my eager request, to -teach in our village, and, after one week, men, women and children were -alive with these friendly, joy-giving, native arts. The following year -a girl teacher came to us again with renewed success. - -In the autumn, 1908, I was invited by the secretary of the club, Miss -Mary Neal, herself a wonderful organiser, to share a seaside holiday -with her girls. In those days I never left home save for family -reasons, or for some very exceptional matter. I, therefore, refused -the invitation. I happened to mention the proposal the next day to -my mother. She said: “Why don’t you go?” I immediately went, little -realising that this visit would lead to a most unexpected series of -experiences. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -MY CONVERSION - - -It was in August-September, 1908, at “The Green Lady Hostel,” -Littlehampton, the holiday house of the Esperance Girls’ Club, that -I met Mrs. Pethick Lawrence and Miss Annie Kenney. I was two or -three days in the house with them without discovering that they were -Suffragettes or that there was anything unusual about their lives. -But I realised at once that I was face to face with women of strong -personality, and I felt, though at first vaguely, that they represented -something more than themselves, a force greater than their own seemed -behind them. Their remarkable individual powers seemed illumined and -enhanced by a light that was apart from them as are the colours and -patterns of a stained-glass window by the sun shining through it. I -had never before come across this kind of spirituality. I have since -found it a characteristic of all the leaders in the militant section -of the woman’s movement, and of many of the rank and file. I was much -attracted by Mrs. Lawrence, and became intimate with her at once on the -strength of our mutual friendship for Olive Schreiner. We had, besides, -many other interests and sympathies in common. The first Sunday that -we were together, the girls of the club were asked to come in early -that evening, so that Jessie Kenney, Annie Kenney’s sister, who had -only recently been released from Holloway, might tell them of her -prison experiences. I then realised that I was amongst Suffragettes. -I immediately confessed to them that although I shared their wish for -the enfranchisement of women, I did not at all sympathise with the -measures they adopted for bringing about that reform. I had, however, -always been interested in prisons and recognised from the first that, -incidentally, the fact of many educated women being sent to gaol for a -question of conscience must do a great deal for prison reform, and I -was delighted at this opportunity of hearing first-hand something about -the inner life of a prison. I listened eagerly and was horrified at -some of the facts recorded. Amongst these I remember specially that the -tins in which the drinking water stood were cleaned with soap and brick -dust and not washed out, the tins being filled only once or at most -twice in twenty-four hours; the want of air in the cells; the conduct -of prison officials towards the prisoners. - -Having betrayed my disapproval of the Suffragette “tactics,” which -seemed to me unjustified, unreasonable, without a sense of political -responsibility, and as setting a bad example in connection with a -reform movement of such prominence, there was naturally something -of coolness and reserve in my further intercourse with Mrs. Pethick -Lawrence and the Kenneys. But before their brief stay at the club came -to an end, I achieved a talk with each of the leaders. - -One evening, after incessant rain, Annie Kenney and I marched -arm-in-arm round the garden, under dripping trees. I explained that -though I had always been for the extension of the suffrage to women, it -did not seem to me a question of prime urgency, that many other matters -of social reform seemed more important, and I thought class prejudice -and barriers more injurious to national welfare than sex barriers. I -was deeply impressed with her reply. She said, in a tone of utmost -conviction: “Well, I can only tell you that I, who am a working-class -woman, have never known class distinction and class prejudice stand -in the way of my advancement, whereas the sex barrier meets me at -every turn.” Of course, she is a woman of great character, courage and -ability, which gives her exceptional facilities for overcoming these -drawbacks, but her contention that such powers availed her nothing -in the face of sex prejudices and disabilities, and the examples -she gave me to bear out her argument, began to lift the scales of -ignorance from my eyes. She was careful to point out that the members -of her own family had been remarkably free from sex prejudice, and -her illustrations had no taint of personal resentment. She explained -how the lot of women being not understood of men, and they being the -only legislators, the woman’s part had always got laid on one side, -made of less importance, sometimes forgotten altogether. She told how -amongst these offices of women was the glorious act of motherhood and -the tending of little children. Was there anything in a man’s career -that could be so honourable as this? Yet how often is the woman who -bears humanity neglected at such times, so that life goes from her, -or she is given no money to support her child. I felt that through -Annie Kenney’s whole being throbbed the passion of her soul for other -women, to lift from them the heavy burden, to give them life, strength, -freedom, joy, and the dignity of human beings, that in all things -they might be treated fairly with men. I was struck by her expression -and argument, it was straightforward in its simplicity, yet there was -inspiration about her. All that she said was obvious, but in it there -was a call from far off, something inevitable as the voice of fate. She -never sounded a note of sex-antipathy; it was an unalloyed claim for -justice and equity of development, for women as for men. - -Then Mrs. Pethick Lawrence and I, during a day’s motoring expedition, -achieved a rare talk out. She met all my arguments, all my prejudices -and false deductions with counter-arguments, and above all with facts -of which I had till then no conception. I trusted her because of what I -had learnt of her personality, her character, mind, wide education and -experience, and was to a certain extent at once impressed; still I only -half believed many of the things she reported, the real purport of her -statements did not yet sink into my soul as they were soon to do, fact -upon fact, result upon result, as I found out their truth for myself. - -During my stay at Littlehampton I witnessed a scene which produced -a great impression upon my conscience. One morning, while wandering -through the little town, I came on a crowd. All kinds of people were -forming a ring round a sheep which had escaped as it was being taken to -the slaughter-house. It looked old and misshapen. A vision suddenly -rose in my mind of what it should have been on its native mountain-side -with all its forces rightly developed, vigorous and independent. There -was a hideous contrast between that vision and the thing in the crowd. -With growing fear and distress the sheep ran about more clumsily and -became a source of amusement to the onlookers, who laughed and jeered -at it. At last it was caught by its two gaolers, and as they carried -it away one of them, resenting its struggles, gave it a great cuff in -the face. At that I felt exasperated. I went up to the men and said, -“Don’t you know your own business? You have this creature absolutely in -your power. If you were holding it properly it would be still. You are -taking it to be killed, you are doing your job badly to hurt and insult -it besides.” The men seemed ashamed, they adjusted their hold more -efficiently and the crowd slunk away. From my babyhood I have felt a -burning indignation against unkindness to animals, and in their defence -I have sometimes acted with a courage not natural to me. But on seeing -this sheep it seemed to reveal to me for the first time the position -of women throughout the world. I realised how often women are held -in contempt as beings outside the pale of human dignity, excluded or -confined, laughed at and insulted because of conditions in themselves -for which they are not responsible, but which are due to fundamental -injustices with regard to them, and to the mistakes of a civilisation -in the shaping of which they have had no free share. I was ashamed to -remember that although my sympathy had been spontaneous with regard -to the wrongs of animals, of children, of men and women who belonged -to down-trodden races or classes of society, yet that hitherto I had -been blind to the sufferings peculiar to women as such, which are -endured by women of every class, every race, every nationality, and -that although nearly all the great thinkers and teachers of humanity -have preached sex-equality, women have no champions among the various -accepted political or moral laws which serve to mould public opinion of -the present day. - -Nothing could have exceeded the patience, the considerate sympathy -even, with which both Annie Kenney and Mrs. Lawrence endured my -arguments, arguments, as I now realise them to have been, without -any genuine element, stereotyped and shallow. Before we parted, Mrs. -Lawrence said to me, and it was the only one of her remarks which -savoured in the least of the contempt which my attitude at that time -so richly deserved, “You are sufficiently interested in our policy to -criticise it, will you be sufficiently interested to study its cause -and read up our case?” - -For two months I “read up” the subject as I had never read in my -life before; I took in the weekly paper _Votes for Women_, the only -publication which gave events as they happened, not as they were -supposed to happen. I attended as many meetings as I could, and the -breakfasts of released suffrage prisoners, whereat the spirit behind -this movement, its driving force, seemed best exemplified. Above all, I -watched current politics from a different point of view. I still held -back from being converted, I criticised and argued at every turn, over -every fresh demonstration of the W.S.P.U., but I began to realise of -what stuff the workers in the movement were made; what price they paid -for their services so gladly given; how far removed they were from any -taint of self-glorification, and how amazingly they played the game of -incessantly advertising the Cause without ever developing the curse -of self-advertisement. I have never been amongst people of any sort -who were so entirely free from self-consciousness, self-seeking and -self-vaunting. - -At this juncture of my conversion I was much concerned with the -arguments of Anti-Suffragists. I wrote a pamphlet to refute their -points of view, as generally presented in newspapers and magazines. I -was always, as it were, stopping on my road to combat their attitude. -It was only after considerably longer experience that I realised -the waste of energy entailed by this process, since the practical -opposition which blocks the way to the legal removal of sex disability -is not due to those men or women who have courage to publicly record -their opposition, but to those who take shelter in verbally advocating -the cause, while at the same time opposing any effective move for its -achievement. Anti-suffrage arguments or agitations should, of course, -be met whenever they present themselves, but it soon became clear to -me that in private intercourse many people put them forward without -any conviction, merely as a way of opening the conversation, and while -at heart much more interested in the positive than the negative side -of the question. The same is true of public audiences. The assertive -claim to the value of voting rights for men, wherever these are -denied, is perennially educating the public to our contention; one -has but to catch them “at it” to illustrate the claim of women. The -drawbacks resulting from laws and customs based on sex bias are also -constantly put forward by Anti-Suffragist men themselves, when they -are not considering the possible infringement of their own monopolies. -Lord Cromer has headed the agitation against freedom for women in -Great Britain. When he was responsible for the welfare of Egypt, -he wrote, concerning the Prophet Mahomet: “Unfortunately the great -Arabian reformer of the seventh century was driven by the necessities -of his position to do more than found a religion. He endeavoured -to found a social system. The reasons why Islam as a social system -has been a complete failure are manifold. First and foremost Islam -keeps women in a position of marked inferiority.” He quotes Stanley -Lane Poole in corroboration: “The degradation of women in the East -is a canker that begins its destructive work early in childhood, and -has eaten into the whole system of Islam.” Lord Cromer then draws -conclusions worthy of the most ardent Suffragette: “Look now to the -consequences which result from the degradation of women in Mahomedan -countries. It cannot be doubted that the seclusion of women exercises -a baneful effect on Eastern society. The arguments on this subject -are indeed so commonplace that it is unnecessary to dwell on them. -It will be sufficient to say that seclusion, by confining the sphere -of women’s interest to a very limited horizon, cramps the intellect -and withers the mental development of one-half of the population in -Moslem countries.... Moreover, inasmuch as women, in their capacities -of wives and mothers exercise a great influence over the characters -of their husbands and sons, it is obvious that the seclusion of women -must produce a deteriorating effect on the male population, in whose -presumed interests the custom was originally established, and is still -maintained” (“Modern Egypt,” Vol. II., chapter entitled “Dwellers in -Egypt,” pp. 134, 155, 156, First Edition). The contention of woman -Suffragists could not be more reasonably presented. Add to this the -belief of Englishmen in the power of the vote to lift from degradation -and to widen the outlook of citizens; their attitude towards rebellions -on behalf of constitutional rights by Russians, Turks, Persians, and -Uitlanders of South Africa; the principles of every constitution in -which Britishers have had a hand, notably in Australasia and South -Africa, and the case is complete. To meet the Anti-Woman Suffragist -arguments, it is only necessary to quote their own utterances. - -My own researches had shown me not only the grievous harm to women from -the inequalities of law and custom with regard to them, but that in -many matters concerning men, and in practically all questions relating -to children, the help of women was needed with an urgency that would no -longer justify delay. I learnt that before resorting to militancy the -women’s organisations had for many years past succeeded in obtaining -a majority of supporters in the House of Commons, and the backing -of leading men of both parties. It was startling to realise that the -professed advocacy of such men as Lord Beaconsfield, the late Lord -Salisbury and Mr. Arthur Balfour had not moved the Conservative party -in any way to assist their cause. When the Liberal Government was -returned to power in 1906, under the leadership of Sir Henry Campbell -Bannerman, he himself was a declared Suffragist, as were all but a few -of the men of most influence in his Cabinet, including Mr. Birrell, -Mr. Buxton, Mr. John Morley and Mr. John Burns. Sir Edward Grey and -Mr. Haldane had themselves introduced a Woman Suffrage Bill in 1889. -Mr. Lloyd George, Mr. Runciman and Mr. Winston Churchill, who joined -the Cabinet in 1908, were strong verbal advocates of votes for women. -The women had tried repeatedly, and always in vain, every peaceable -means open to them of influencing successive Governments. Processions -and petitions were absolutely useless. I saw the extreme need of -their position, the ineffectiveness of every method hitherto adopted -to persuade these professed Suffragists to put their theories into -practice. But I still held aloof from completely backing their militant -action owing to mistrustfulness bred of ignorance as to its true nature. - -After six weeks I reached the stage when I had little left to say -against the movement and my enthusiasm for the workers in it was -considerable, but on the whole my attitude was of a negative order. I -was still not prepared to back my theoretic approval by action when, -on October 13, Mrs. Pankhurst, Mrs. Drummond and Christabel Pankhurst -were arrested for issuing the famous handbill calling upon the people -of London to witness the women’s deputation to the Prime Minister and -to help them “rush” the House of Commons. - -At a crowded meeting at the Queen’s Hall the previous day, Monday, -October 12, the leaders announced that a warrant had been served upon -them and that at any moment the police might come in and arrest them -on the platform. The meeting was enthusiastically in their favour and -the announcement caused an outburst of indignation. This, however, -was instantly suppressed by the leaders, who explained that they were -under a compact with the managers of the hall never to use these weekly -meetings for any insubordinate demonstrations; that if the police -arrived and proceeded to arrest them they would only be carrying out -their orders; that if this happened, no interference, not a murmur -of resentment must come from the audience. After a few moments they -settled down under this decree with reluctant but strikingly obedient -resignation. Before long the police were announced to be at the door. -After some moments of interchanging messages with the leaders on the -platform, during which the suspense in the hall was tremendously taut, -the police left saying that the women arrested would have to report -themselves at Bow Street the following morning. The next day, Tuesday, -October 13, I called at the W.S.P.U. offices in Clement’s Inn to offer -my sympathy. I regretted that I was still not sufficiently in agreement -with their militant policy to join the deputation, but inquired -whether there were any lesser services which I could render them. I was -asked to try and approach the Home Secretary with a view to securing -1st Division treatment for the prisoners as political offenders instead -of ranking them, as hitherto, with criminals in the 2nd and 3rd -Divisions. From the first I had been in sympathy with this demand. To -publicly maintain that the Suffragists, even if their breaking of the -law were proved, had anything in common with the ordinary transgressor -for selfish ends, appeared to me ludicrous as well as tyrannous on -the part of the Government. I therefore willingly undertook the task, -although I was convinced that my efforts would meet with no immediate -success. I had already grasped this much of the spirit of the militants -that rightness of aim is the factor controlling their actions; -likeliness of achievement, in so far as this depends not on themselves -but on their opponents, is not a matter to be considered. Looking back -at the advance of their cause since militant action began in October, -1905, it seems to me that its amazing rapidity has been chiefly due -to the unswerving carrying out of this principle. At every stage the -militants selected a line of conduct, not in itself rebellious, but on -the contrary, morally and constitutionally in accordance with accepted -opinion and law. It has been the ignoring or deliberate repression -of their lawful claims which produced disturbances. The unreasoned -punishments which followed in no way altered the women’s need nor their -determined claim for legal redress. The sufferings of their comrades -merely heaped fuel on the fires of their enthusiasm and inevitably -exposed the reactionary nature of the Government’s attitude towards -them. I did not obtain 1st Division treatment for the prisoners, but my -observations during that memorable day made me a complete convert to -the policy of militancy. - -From about 4 in the afternoon to 11.30 at night I was incessantly -on the move between Clement’s Inn, the House of Commons, Bow Street -Police Station and the private residence of the magistrate. I had ample -opportunity of noticing the nature of the crowd summoned by the famous -handbill and of studying the attitude of mind of the authorities, -of the Home Office, the magistrate, and of the police towards our -movement. The facts which I noted that day as a spectator were typical, -and corroborated afterwards in every respect when it came to my own -experience. The decisions of the Government as expressed through the -Home Office were pre-determined and detached from any consideration of -the political demand which was the root cause of the women’s rebellion. -The magistrate’s attitude was obviously affected, whether directly -or indirectly, by the Government’s lead. The political nature of the -offences of which our prisoners were accused was not admitted; their -purely nominal crimes were nevertheless punished with a severity -that was unheard of had they been judged as ordinary disturbers of -the peace. It was clear that the political motive of their actions -was recognised sufficiently to justify the authorities in assuming -that these actions would be continuous, an example to others, and a -dangerous appeal from an organised body, but the reason was ignored -when there was question of an inquiry into the political motive itself. -The police showed a much more straightforward and impartial attitude -whenever the conduct of our case was left entirely in their hands. -They never for a moment looked upon the suffrage prisoners as ordinary -rowdies, they realised that our motives were political and our actions -peaceable, but that our appeals were met in a quite different spirit -from those of other political agitators. The police, of course, in turn -came under the influence of those in authority over them, and when -under orders would knock us about in the streets, and accuse us in the -courts, according to the requirements imposed upon them. Under this -pressure, individual policemen would occasionally act with brutality -and unfairness, but in the main their treatment of Suffragists was -in striking contrast to that of the magistrates, the Home Office and -the Government. A great number of police constables are better versed -in the suffrage question and the woman question generally than most -politicians. They have been obliged to attend our meetings. They know -both the political and moral ethics of our policy. I have heard more -intelligent reasoning about votes for women from policemen (both when -my identity was known to them and when it was not) than has issued, -with but rare exceptions, from the House of Commons. - -During the afternoon and evening of this day I had my first experience -of a suffrage crowd, immense in numbers, embracing every shade of -opinion on the question, from enthusiasm in favour to contemptuous or -angry hostility, largely interspersed with curiosity-mongers who were -fascinated by the fight although without interest for its cause. There -were men and women of all classes, but rowdyism was plainly not there, -and from that day forward I was convinced of the fact, self-evident -enough in all conscience, that the women never appealed to hooliganism -and that they had nothing to gain from and nothing to offer to that -element in the mob. The women, and the men too, who fight in this -cause, or assist it ever so remotely, have never been and never will be -of a self-seeking type, nor are they lovers of disturbance for its own -sake. - -I first of all tried to interview the Home Secretary, Mr. Herbert -Gladstone,[1] at the House of Commons. I did not see him, but a -friendly member of Parliament acted as messenger boy between us. I -asked: (1) Would he use his powers to ensure that the three prisoners -should be sentenced to the 1st Division, and not to the 2nd Division -as though they were common criminals, which obviously they were not? -_Reply_: As the prisoners were not yet arrested he could not possibly -adjudicate on the question of their sentences. (2) If I returned at six -o’clock, the hour when they were to surrender to the summons, would he -then give me an answer? _Reply_: He had not the power, the question -rested with the police-court authorities; he had determined never to -interfere with sentences. (3) Would he give me a permit or some sort -of facilities to approach the magistrate? My messenger told me that it -would be useless to put this question, that Mr. Gladstone was in a -state of great anger over the whole proceedings, and that, even if he -had the power, nothing would induce him to help the Suffragettes to 1st -Division treatment. I then went to Bow Street Police Court. The crowds -were dense in Parliament Square, Parliament Street, and Trafalgar -Square, but extremely orderly. When I reached Bow Street it was past -six o’clock and the magistrate had left. On inquiring where I could -find him, I was ushered into an inner room before a superintendent who -wore a flat cap, not the usual policeman’s helmet. He was very civil, -but told me it was against the rules to give the private addresses -of magistrates and that Mr. Curtis Bennett would not be back until -ten o’clock the following morning for the Court. I put various other -questions. Though offering no practical assistance the answers led me -to realise a strangely unexpected atmosphere of sympathy, and after -a few moments hesitation I found myself telling this superintendent -the full purport of my mission. To my intense surprise he not only -expressed much approval, but burst out with a torrent of abuse against -the Government--“Why to goodness couldn’t the Prime Minister receive -the women’s deputation same as any other? The brunt of the whole -business falls on us, and it’s the beastliest job we’ve ever had.” -Then he added, “The prisoners are here now, in the cells, would you -like to see them?” I felt almost overwhelmed that so unworthy and -half-hearted a follower as myself should be the one to have this -grand opportunity, but, of course, I availed myself of it without a -moment’s hesitation. I was shown through a series of passages and up -a flight of stairs, where a wardress was in charge. This October day -was damp and foggy with the first sense of autumn chill, but as I was -led on towards the cells the atmosphere became perceptibly damper and -colder at every step, as in a vault. I realised for the first time -the actual meaning of the word “puanteur,” which haunts the pages of -Dostoievsky’s account of his imprisonments, the smell, as it were, of -deadness pervading, I should imagine, every building, however cleanly -washed, which is built and used to incarcerate human beings solely for -punitive purposes. I had never seen Mrs. Pankhurst except on a public -platform at moments when she was surrounded by public enthusiasm and -personal devotion, such as are rarely accorded even to great leaders. -My critical faculty is easily aroused by success, and although I -recognised the single-mindedness of her aims, the uprightness of her -character, the vigour of her intellect and convincing oratorical -gifts, the charm of her personality and, above all, the magnificent -power of her leadership, yet I had hitherto not felt drawn to this -remarkable woman. It was with no sense of hero-worship that in reply -to the wardress’ friendly question, “Which of the ladies do you wish -to see?” I answered, “Mrs. Pankhurst.” She went to a cell door, many -of which lined one side of a passage as the horse-boxes of a stable, -and drew aside the shutter of a small grating. I looked through into -a land of animal’s den, dimly lit and furnished only with a bare -wooden bench running along the side of the wall, and terminating -in a sanitary convenience. Standing erect as she moved towards the -grating, was a woman whose appearance struck awe into every fibre of -my being. A splendour of defiance and indignation pervaded her face, -yet she was controlled and her attitude conveyed no suggestion of -personal grievance. From that moment I recognised in her, and I have -held the vision undimmed ever since, the guardian protector of this -amazing woman’s movement, conscious not only of the thousands who -follow her lead to-day, but of the martyred generations of the past -and of the women of the future whose welfare depends upon the path -hewn out for them to-day. I seemed to grasp prophetically and all at -once the characteristic qualities which I learnt later on by closer -observation and experience. I saw that the quality of sternness, which -presented so unyielding a front to every opponent and every obstacle, -drew its force from deep fountains of understanding, of sympathy and -of love. While she most perfectly fulfilled her mission of pioneer, -and shirked none of the responsibilities accruing to the lead, yet the -efficiency and glamour attending the fulfilment of that mission were -due to her recognition of the elements behind her, as an arrow-head -derives its force from the construction of the whole weapon. The -seemingly miraculous power of leadership with which the controllers -of this militant movement are gifted is due to the fact that they too -are fellow servants of a cause which they recognise is of infinitely -greater importance than themselves or any other individual, they share -with the humblest member of the rank and file the sense of loyalty and -bond-allegiance to a common ideal--the welfare of women throughout the -world. - - FOOTNOTE: [1] Afterwards Lord Gladstone. - -I was advised by Mrs. Pankhurst how to turn my services to the best -account and not to mind about the 1st Division, as they themselves -could plead it in court, but to get them released for that night -or they would not be able to plead properly, from fatigue. After a -fruitless search of some hours for the magistrate in the wilds of West -Kensington and a return to the office at Clement’s Inn for further -instructions, I at last ran my quarry to ground somewhere near Olympia. -The magistrate, Mr. Curtis Bennett,[2] received me courteously, but -his face promptly assumed an official-defensive expression on learning -my quest. If I had come to ask him about the trial next day he must -request me not to proceed, since he must keep his mind unbiassed. I -explained that I was altogether new to the rules of the game which -he had at his fingers’ ends. That, as I was ignorant which questions -I might or might not put to him, it would be best for me to unburden -myself and for him to select which of my demands he could answer. -He saw the reason of this and kindly consented to the arrangement. -In reply, he could make no statement as to which Division he would -sentence the prisoners, nor could they be let out on bail that night, -because of the late hour at which they had responded to the summonses. -As to taking them food and bedding, that was a matter for the police to -decide, it was beyond his jurisdiction. I was thankful to hear this, -knowing that the police were not likely to offer objections when -matters were left solely to their care. I went back to Mrs. Pethick -Lawrence, and in a few minutes we had taken bedding and rugs and were -off to the police station at Bow Street. We found that a Member of -Parliament, Mr. James Murray, had visited our friends and ordered -everything they wanted from an hotel, making them as comfortable as -possible for the night. - - FOOTNOTE: [2] Afterwards Sir Curtis Bennett, who since died in 1913. - -The next day their trial took place. After the evidence of the police -had been taken, Christabel Pankhurst asked for an adjournment, in -order to take legal advice and to prepare a defence. This was granted -for one week. During the interval, Christabel secured the attendance -of Mr. Lloyd George, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and of Mr. Herbert -Gladstone, Home Secretary, as witnesses for the defence. The adjourned -hearing of the case on October 21 lasted from 10.30 to 7.30 at night, -with only two short intervals. The trial was immensely impressive, the -three figures stood up at different times, and it was obvious to all -who listened to the case that they were fighting against evil and were -in all things most essentially good, so that one was awed by them. -When the two members of the Cabinet gave evidence, the futility of the -part they played was most obvious and they presented an appearance -that was petty and contemptible to the last degree. There were a great -many other witnesses, of whom I was one, in support of the contention -that the crowd on the evening of October 13 was an orderly one, and -that no violence was done. At 7.30 Christabel Pankhurst said she had -still fifty witnesses to call, and the case was adjourned to Saturday, -October 24. It was owing to Mrs. Pankhurst’s speech on this occasion -that I felt taken hold of by the movement. Every sentence of it seemed -to be true, dignified, strong, entirely respectful. This passage I more -especially remember: “You know that women have tried to do something to -come to the aid of their own sex.... I was in the hospital at Holloway, -and when I was there I heard from one of the beds near me the moans -of a woman who was in the pangs of childbirth. I should like you to -realise how women feel at helpless little infants breathing their first -breath in the atmosphere of a prison. We believe that if we get the -vote we will find some more humane way of dealing with women than that.” - -Mrs. Drummond made me feel faith in the woman’s movement, her type was -most lovable, full of daring for the enemies of woman, full of patience -in working for them, full of the most noble kind of humility in her -reverence for them. - -Christabel Pankhurst was the sunrise of the woman’s movement, I cannot -describe her in any other way. The glow of her great vitality and -the joy of her being took hold of the movement and made it gladness. -Yet, her nature being so essentially a woman’s, there was a vein -of tenderness throughout her speech, and her strength lay in her -steadfast, resourceful and brilliant intellect. - -With the exception of declining to give a pledge to keep the peace for -twelve months, a pledge which these women were quite unable to accept, -they had been guilty of no offence. Mrs. Pankhurst and Mrs. Drummond -were each sentenced to three months’ imprisonment, and Christabel -Pankhurst to ten weeks’ (two and a half months) imprisonment. It was -like darkness when these three were in prison. Mrs. Pethick Lawrence -and Sylvia Pankhurst, Christabel’s sister, kept the weekly meetings -going at the Queen’s Hall in a splendid way. Sylvia is an artist by -profession and an artist at heart, but whenever the women’s movement -wants her she is there for its bidding. She looked all that is most -modest and humble, but speaking seemed to come as a second nature to -her as to everyone of the Pankhursts, and at times I could not have -believed, but for having heard and seen, the splendid political speech -which came from that young girl. During this time I lived in the -country and seldom came to London. I needed no converting now and my -only wish was to convince my mother. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -A DEPUTATION TO THE PRIME MINISTER - - -Throughout this month of January, 1909, I became convinced that -I should be justified in offering myself as a member of the next -deputation to the Prime Minister to demand the removal of women’s -disabilities to the Parliamentary franchise. I became a member of the -Women’s Social and Political Union, and on January 28 I wrote to Mrs. -Pethick Lawrence offering myself for the deputation. I did not tell -anybody but her of my decision. On the 30th I received her answer, -accepting my offer. - -On February 24 I went up to London from Homewood, without telling -mother of the plan and actually without saying good-bye to her, as she -went out to the village before I started. I wrote her the following -letter at King’s Cross Station, but did not post it till later in the -day:-- - - “Wednesday, February 24, 1909. - - “MY ANGEL MOTHER,--I don’t know whether I shall post this to you or - see you first. I want to have a letter ready. - - “Don’t be startled or afraid. I have something to tell you which--with - the help of recent presentiments--you, I know, are half expecting to - hear. - - “If you ever see this letter it will mean that after joining the - deputation I have been arrested and shall not see you again until I - have been to Holloway. For months I have been planning this letter to - you, but now that the time has come, it is not any easier to write - for that. Of course, my hope has been all along that I should be - able to take you into my confidence, that I should have the perhaps - all-undeserved yet heaven-like joy of knowing that though you could - not share all my views, yet that you would understand why I held them, - and, granted these, you would further understand my action and the - great sacrifice which I know it means to you. My darling Muddy, you - will never know, I trust, the pain it is to have to do this thing - without your sympathy and help--with, on the contrary, the certainty - that it shocks you and hurts you and makes you suffer in numberless - ways. Hardly a day has passed but what I have tried to feel my way - with you, tried to convert you--not to my theoretic views, difference - there does not matter, but to my intended conduct in connection with - them. Every day I have failed. If I decided to do this thing, absolute - secrecy was necessary, for, the whole of these police regulations - being arbitrarily ordered and special to the case, they would never - arrest me, not, I mean, unless I really broke the law, if they knew - who I was. Unless I had your sympathy and understanding, it was, of - course, hopeless to count on your secrecy. I had two alternatives, - to give up the plan, or to keep it and deceive you about it. I chose - this last. For your sake I have tried never to tell you an actual - lie in words. I have not done this, and that is, perhaps, why you - have your suspicions. But to my conscience that is no easier. It was - my intention to deceive you, and I have deceived you, and, for all - practical purposes, successfully. Once the intention is to deceive, it - seems to me not to make any difference how it is done. - - “You will be angry. If it could be only that. But you will be hurt - through and through. As I write the words their meaning is acute in my - mind and heart. You will hardly care to know, but I must tell you what - has decided me to take this torturing step. - - “Prisons, as you know, have been my hobby. What maternity there - lurks in me has for years past been gradually awakening over the - fate of prisoners, the deliberate, cruel harm that is done to them, - their souls and bodies, the ignorant, exasperating waste of good - opportunities in connection with them, till now the thought of them, - the yearning after them, turns in me and tugs at me as vitally and - irrepressibly as ever a physical child can call upon its mother. - - “The moment I got near the Suffragettes the way to this child of mine - seemed easy and straight. But I knew the temptation to think this must - make me doubly sure of my ground. I have felt from the first that I - could not take this woman’s movement merely as an excuse for Holloway. - I have waited till my conviction was genuine and deep at every point, - and till the opportunity occurred for facing the police regulations in - a way possible to my whole nature, temperament, conscience. There are - several other things which the Suffragettes do, which I would not and - could not do. - - “I finally made up my mind in about the middle of January, and soon - after wrote to Mrs. Pethick Lawrence. Enclosed is her answer. I had - not recently been seeing them, or going to meetings, or in any way - specially communicating with them. I took the decision entirely on - myself, in no way consulted her nor asked her advice; even had they - not accepted me in the deputation I should have joined outside. - - “About the physical discomforts part of Holloway, don’t be distressed - for that. These are already nothing to what they were. And I am such - a muff, what remains of hardship will be wholesome for me--really - ‘reformatory’ for me as imprisonment seldom is to others. If I could - only know that you will help me face it, it would be nothing to me. - It’s my journeying after the hobby that sucks up my soul like a tide, - my Nile sources, my Thibet, my Ruvenzori. If you, my splendid Mother, - will only help me in spirit that the little spark of Sven Hedin shall - not fail in me. I am no hero, but the thought of other travellers’ - much worse privations on that road will, I believe, fizzle up my - flimsy body enough for what is necessary, and if only I knew you were - helping me in your heart I should not, could not, fail, Muddy darling. - - “You can’t forgive me now, but perhaps you will some day. Whatever you - feel towards me, whatever I do, I shall still be always - - “Your most loving and devoted - - “CON. - - “The account papers, tradesmen addresses, wages paper, are in the - lift-up place of desk on dining-room writing table. I expect I shall - be away from you a month. The others will cling round you. If I were - going a trip abroad you would not resent the separation. In my little - warm cupboard nest in Holloway my only thought of the outer world will - be of you. I shall try anyhow to get back to you to-night. - - “CON.” - -I went to 4, Clement’s Inn, lunched there with Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, -Christabel, Mrs. Pankhurst and Mrs. Tuke; Miss Neal came too. She -kindly undertook to post my letter to mother and buy me a brush and -comb and toothbrush in case we should be sent to the 1st Division. - -I had a cracking headache and felt quite dazed. They kindly put me to -lie down in the upstairs rest room boudoir, where Mrs. Pankhurst and -Christabel had remained hidden from the police on October 14, 1908. - -At about six o’clock we had supper. I ate next to nothing. Miss Elsa -Gye, who had been summoned by telegraph to come and assist me through -the Deputation, was at supper. She was a delightful girl, young and -fresh-looking. I had been told that she was just engaged to be married, -and I felt it was horrible that she should risk weeks of imprisonment -solely because of me. - -I had disguised myself by doing my hair in an early-Victorian way, so -that the police, if on the look out for me, should not recognise me and -so be tempted not to arrest me; for people whose relatives might make a -fuss effectively are considered awkward customers. - -At about seven Miss Gye and I set out and hailed a taxi. I found I -had left my ticket behind for the Caxton Hall Meeting. So I flew back -to Clement’s Inn to get it. It was a raw, cold night, but I had been -advised to dispense with my muff and boa, as these, I was told, would -almost certainly be torn to shreds “in the hustling”; this gave one a -rather gruesome warning of what was to be expected from the handling -of the police. We were each given a copy of the resolution which was -to be put to the meeting. As we drove to Caxton Hall, it suddenly -struck me that I had not sufficiently learnt up my part. “What does -one have to do?” I asked. “I suppose I must do something to show -that I mean business.” “Oh, no,” my companion answered, “you needn’t -bother about what you’ll do. It will all be done _to_ you. There is -only one thing you must remember. It is our business to go forward, -and whatever is said to you and whatever is done to you, you must on -no account be turned back.” That seemed to me at the time, and has -seemed to me ever since, to be the essence of our militant tactics. -I afterwards heard it yet better summarised by Mrs. Pankhurst: “Our -demand is just and moderate. We press our cause reasonably and in a -law-abiding spirit, but in such a way that we give the Government but -two alternatives--either to do us justice or to do us violence.” My -companion also told me that if the police became too violent, I could -cut matters short and ensure instant arrest by the semblance of making -a speech or collecting a crowd round me for that purpose, since these -offences constituted a breach of the peace. Miss Gye and I sat in the -body of the hall, we had on the “Votes for Women” sashes and were to -join the Deputation unostentatiously as it left the building. - -The appearance of the Deputation on the platform was remarkable for the -look of dignity and pathetic earnestness of the members, many of them -white-haired, and one or two young and pretty girls.[3] The speeches -seemed to be very much to the point. I could hardly listen to them for -the distracting thought of when my mother would hear about me and what -she would think and feel; but I had no wish to shirk, and never for a -moment did I doubt that I had done right. - - FOOTNOTE: [3] The Deputation was composed of our leader Mrs. Pethick - Lawrence, Miss Daisy Solomon, Mrs. Vans Agnew Corbett, Miss Una - Dugdale, Miss Madeline Petre, Miss E. H. Chesshire, Mrs. Caprina - Fahey, Miss M. Barnet, Miss Margaret Davies Colley, Miss Margaret - E. Rodgers, Miss Mary Allen, Miss Ellen Pitman, Miss Maud Freeman, - Mrs. Katherine Richmond, Miss Mary Lethune, Miss M. Adair Roberts, - Miss Leslie Lawless, Miss Caroline Townsend, Mrs. Tyson, Miss M. - Tyson, Miss Ainsworth, Mrs. Lamartine Yates, Miss M. E. Thompson, - Miss Helen Kirkpatrick Watts, Miss Kate Walsh, Miss Sara Carwin, Mrs. - Saul Solomon, who was not eventually arrested, and Miss Elsa Gye and - myself brought the number to twenty-nine. - -Many friends had seen and not recognised me, at which I was delighted. -Others did recognise me, and seeing I had the sash on, which meant the -Deputation, they looked immensely surprised. - -Presently the Deputation came down from the platform, formed up in -couples, headed by Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, and marched out of the hall. -Miss Gye and I joined in behind the sixth or seventh couple. We were -thirty women in all. By this time I had a feeling of exhilaration -that the moment for my own independent action had come at last. I had -a vague notion that I should have to encounter physical difficulties, -but since I had merely to meet them and endure them, knowing that I -could lay no claim to overcoming these by physical powers of which I -was deficient, the way from that moment seemed plain and easy. I felt -proud to be one of the active ones at last, to be the companion of -these women in particular, whom I had watched on the platform, and to -know that the Deputation was headed by one of our leaders who had first -revealed the woman’s movement to me. - -The following resolution was put to the meeting and carried with -acclamation: “That this Parliament of women expresses its indignation -that while every measure in the King’s Speech vitally affects the -interests of their sex, and while heavier financial burdens are to -be laid upon woman tax-payers, the Government have not included in -the programme for the session a measure to confer the Parliamentary -vote upon duly qualified women. The women here assembled call upon -the Government to introduce and carry into law this session a measure -giving votes to women on the same terms as to men. - -“A Deputation is hereby appointed, to whom is entrusted the duty of -forthwith conveying this resolution to the Prime Minister at the House -of Commons and eliciting his reply.” - -A copy was then handed to each member of the Deputation. - -Of all the undesirable possibilities before me, I dreaded most lest -by some horrible twist of fate the leaders of the Deputation should -be refused admittance, and I, if recognised, should have the lonely -privilege thrust upon me of being received. I had never made a regular -speech, and two attempts I had made at narrating my experiences of -the previous October to a village audience had not been reassuring. -My own point of view was definite enough, but I did not feel equipped -to speak for others. When deciding to go on the Deputation I had, -however, taken stock of my representative character and asked myself -for which group of women I should stand, what was my atom’s share in -this movement if I did not strain after any vicarious office but merely -added my own personal weight to the scale? Without doubt I myself was -one of that numerous gang of upper class leisured class spinsters, -unemployed, unpropertied, unendowed, uneducated, without equipment -or training for public service, economically dependent entirely upon -others, not masters of their own leisure, however oppressively abundant -that might seem to the onlooker. In a class where property runs with -primogeniture, the first-born, if a female, is overlooked. In a class -the whole status of which is based on property, on wealth to live at -ease and in luxury, property is only dealt out to women, if at all, -after male relatives have been served first, and then, as a rule, in -much less proportion. Posts of honour and remuneration are barred to -them in nearly all professions, in even those few they are allowed -to enter. They remain almost invariably without honour of titles or -lands or wealth, even where their services have been sought. Posts of -Government are exclusively for men, with the sole exception of the -Sovereign. Trained to luxury and untrained to remunerative work, they -are for the most part dependents from childhood to the grave. A maiming -subserviency is so conditional to their very existence that it becomes -an aim in itself, an ideal. Driven through life with blinkers on, -they are unresentful of the bridle, the rein and the whip, uncritical -of the direction in which they are driven, unmindful of the result -to others as well as to themselves of their maintainer’s beliefs and -policy, whatever they may be. The bride at the sacred ritual of her -marriage festival hears from her husband the words, “With this ring -I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods I -thee endow.” She knows at the time and she learns yet more intimately -as life goes on that those words have no practical bearing, and that -at her husband’s death the greater part of even that property which -had been seemingly made over to her during his lifetime will pass -from her hands at the wane of her lonely existence, when she needs -it most, into those of her son or some more distant relative. The -literal, practical, interpretation of that husband’s vow--yes, of the -vow even of good and well-intentioned husbands--most usually is: “With -this ring I thee bind, with my body I thee control, with none of my -worldly goods I thee endow.” As a widow more often than not she sinks, -because of her financial position, to a social state out of touch with -all her past life. But at least the wives, the widows, generally have -children through whom their powers of service to their families and -to the community in general are to a certain extent developed and -recognised, and which give them a certain insight into the realities of -existence. They also have known well-being and vicarious honour through -their husbands. But to the single woman, the old maid of later years, -the paralysing worship of incapacity dominates life, the chain of -limitations and restrictions is but seldom broken, and never overcome -save by exceptional force of character or ability. Even then how often -it is only the beating of wings against unyielding and maiming bars; -freedom, if attained, rendered useless by lack of preparation in the -competition against trained and privileged beings of the male sex, and -the vain ambition ends in a seeming mutiny, nothing more--a distortion, -an abnormality, an untidiness of creation. - -I could stand indeed for the superfluous spinster, but who would -listen to a messenger from this mute array, who cares for the blind, -the lamed, the maimed and the dumb? The fearful unnecessity of their -disablement awakes no pity, no heart softens at thought of them, no -politician would feel his conscience pricked by the narration of their -grievances. A yoke so submitted to, so uselessly endured, can claim no -reverence of martyrdom. But before condemning those who submit to it, I -wish that our critics could realise what it means to be born under this -yoke and then try to shake it off. - -It is easy to see that if women are to appeal effectively to a modern -parliament for the rights of liberty and representation which so long -have been recognised among men, it must be through the working women, -the bread-winning woman. Her situation is easily comparable to that -of the working-class man who quite recently has had himself to fight -in order to win his denied claim to freedom, a fact which he, and -others for him, still remember. The aristocracy, the landed proprietor, -the middle-class trader, each in turn was driven to claim and fight -for these same rights. But their struggle was of long ago, their -security in this right has remained unshaken for so many generations -that they have clean forgotten what it would mean to be without it. -It is by the side of the most recent victors that women must put -in their claim. With this class, the working-class women, though -at all times at one with them in point of sympathy from theoretic -understanding of their troubles and needs, I was not in direct touch -and laid no first-hand experiences that I could share with them. I -read the petitions of factory workers, of the sweated home workers, -of the professions--teachers, nurses, medical women--with respect and -whole-hearted sympathy, but how could I stand for them when I was not -equipped to represent them? - -This was my state of mind until, walking from Holloway to the City in -one of our Suffragette processions, I heard for the first time with -my own ears the well-worn taunt “Go home and do your washing.” This -awoke in me a magic response. Since the days of my earliest childhood -washing had held great charm for me, and as a result I had revered -the washers exceptionally. In my youth, the pursuit was associated -exclusively with laundry-workers, but in later years I realised that, -except in that small proportion of houses where servants are kept, -every woman is a laundrymaid, and that in every house throughout the -land, or indeed throughout the world, the cleaning and the washing are -done mainly by women, by wives and mothers, their girl children or -women servants. Washing, the making clean that which had been dirty, -and making the crumpled and uncomfortable things smooth, was my hobby. -I was an amateur scrubber and laundry-woman in the same spirit as other -unemployed females dabble in water-colour drawings or hand embroidery. -But much as I personally enjoyed occasional experimenting in the craft, -it was easy to imagine how irksome the occupation might become if -one were driven to it week by week with no release, under unsuitable -conditions, without the necessary equipment, in a small house or single -room, surrounded by children, with a stinted water supply, inadequate -firing utensils, a weary body and a mind distraught as to how to exist -from day to day. From the moment I heard that “washing” taunt in the -street, I have had eyes for the work of the washers. If there is one -single industry highly deserving of recognition throughout the world of -human existence and of representation under parliamentary systems, it -surely is that of the washers, the renewers week by week, the makers -clean. - -I determined, if I should find myself the solitary representative of -the Deputation and its untrained spokeswoman, I should point to the -collars and shirt fronts of the gentlemen who received me and claim the -freedom of citizenship for the washers. As I stepped out from Caxton -Hall, through the grime of a foggy February evening, I caught sight -of white collars here and there in the crowd, like little flashing -code-signals beckoning to us across the darkness. The gnarled hands, -the bent backs, the tear-dimmed eyes of those that had washed them -white seemed to cry out, “Remember us. Don’t be afraid to speak for -us if you get through to the presence of those who know nothing, heed -nothing of our toil.” I said in my heart, “I shall remember, and I -shall not be afraid in their presence.” - -We had scarcely stepped into the street before we found ourselves -hedged in by a ∧ shaped avenue of police, narrowing as we advanced. -They asked no questions, said nothing, but proceeded to close upon -us from either side. My companion and I kept together. Very soon all -breath seemed to have been pressed out of my body, but remembering the -order of the day, “Don’t be turned back,” I tried to hold my ground -even when advance was out of the question. Miss Gye, however, soon -realised the situation and pulled me back, saying, “We are not yet -in Parliament Square; we must manage to get there somehow; let’s try -another way.” The police had forced themselves between the ranks of the -Deputation, keeping them apart and trying also to sever the couples, -but Miss Gye and I managed to regain hold of each other. I had not been -able to reconnoitre in the morning as I had intended. The whereabouts -of Caxton Hall was unknown to me, and in the darkness I felt quite at -sea as regards direction. We soon got clear of the police and found -ourselves in a friendly crowd who half hindered, half pushed, us -along. But I was already so incapacitated by breathlessness I could -not lift my chest and head. I had repeatedly to stop, and, but for -the kindly assistance of my companion and an unknown man and woman of -the crowd, I should have been unable to get any further. The main body -of the Deputation had made for the strangers’ entrance of the House of -Commons, near the House of Lords. I saw none of them again until we met -in the police station. In Parliament Square we soon became entangled -in a thick crowd, some of them friendly, as many not, the great bulk -curiosity-mongers. Miss Gye and I were, of course, recognisable as -members of the Deputation by our sashes, and though at first whenever -the police or the crowd pushed us apart she managed to return to me, -we eventually got completely separated and lost sight of each other. -My two stranger friends in the crowd, however, not being marked by -badges were always returning to my help. The occasion most literally -turned out to be one for “deeds, not words.” Being doubled up for want -of breath, I could scarcely see where I was going, but my instinct led -me to avoid the police in every way that I could. They were placed -about in twos and threes in no apparent special formation, but now and -then one came to a whole line of them, standing shoulder to shoulder. -I was during most of the time physically incapable of speech. I only -twice was able to express myself in words, on both occasions when I was -lifted off my feet and relieved of the toil of dragging my own body. -First when the crowd wedged me up against a policeman, I said to him: -“I know you are only doing your duty and I am doing mine.” His only -answer was to seize me with both his hands round the ribs, squeeze -the remaining breath out of my body and, lifting me completely into -the air, throw me with all his strength. Thanks to the crowd I did -not reach the ground; several of my companions in more isolated parts -of the square were thrown repeatedly on to the pavement. Another time -a policeman turned me round and, holding my arms behind me, drove me -ahead of him for several yards at a great pace. So that his violence -would not land me on to my face I exerted what pressure I could to -steady my feet. No doubt this looked very “violent” on my part to some -of the crowd who jeered and booed. I said to them, in gasps: “You ask -women to behave in a womanly way; do you think this is treating them in -a manly way?” Twice again I was thrown as before described. I offered -no resistance to this whatever, and being of light weight for my size, -I feared that I was becoming a specially desirable victim for the -experts in this line. Each time I was thrown to a greater distance and -the concussion on reaching the ground was painful and straining, though -in each case the crowd acted for me as sort of buffers. When seized -for the throw there is also a feeling of wrenching throughout the -body. But I gained in the direction of the House nevertheless, always -assisted by the crowd. The stranger woman in particular, a German lady -who was tall, well-built, and of considerable strength, had managed to -keep near me. Three times, after each of the “throws,” she came to my -help and warded off the crowd while I leant up against some railings, -or against her shoulder to recover my breath. Several times I said to -her, “I can’t go on; I simply can’t go on.” She answered, “Wait for a -little, you will be all right presently.” At the time and ever since I -have felt most inexpressibly grateful to this stranger friend. - -I was goaded on most of all, perhaps, by the fear that I should be -taken off by an ambulance--I heard that some were about--and, if so, -that all I had achieved so far would have to be faced again, probably -with renewed difficulty. Flashes of vivid light and the sound of a -slight muffled explosion came about from time to time. I did not know -what these were, they added to the sense of incomprehensibleness and -general confusion. It was only towards the end of the day I realised -that they were the newspaper photographers’ flashlights. The irony of -their attentions seemed great. - -It was cheering to find that in spite of everything I had gained -ground and was quite near to the House. The police were now far less -numerous, standing only in small groups of twos and threes. Several of -these to my surprise let me pass quite close by them unmolested. The -prospect of actually entering the House seemed now not unattainable. My -utterly dishevelled condition, my inability for want of breath to stand -upright or to string more than two words together at a time, should -have enhanced the nightmare of possibly being admitted to the presence -of the Prime Minister. But strange to say that fear had left me. The -instinct for achievement engendered by the rebuffs of the police, the -indignation aroused by the fact that such treatment of a deputation -of voteless citizens had been deliberately ordered and sanctioned by -the Government, had for the moment cured all fears as to my personal -inadequacy as a spokesman. I found myself at the gates of the members’ -entrance. No crowd was near and only two policemen stood, ordinary -wise, at either side of the gate. They did not seem to be noticing -me. I straightened my back to assume as much of a normal appearance -as possible. I passed through the gate. At this the policeman nearest -to me turned and seized my arm. Expecting to be thrown as before, I -tried to hold my ground and said, “Please let me pass,” or words to -that effect. Another policeman promptly took me by the other arm and -I was led off at a great pace. The effort to try and realise what was -happening seemed to use up the last remnant of physical power at my -disposal. I supposed I was being led away, as I had been warned was -sometimes done as a means of disheartening the women, to some distant -and lonely street. But there was nothing of roughness or insult in the -attitude of the police who held me. I thought perhaps I had fainted -or fallen without knowing it and that they were ambulance men. I felt -unable to cope with the problem, my eyes shut and my head fell forward. -We seemed to be going a long way. “How shall I ever get back from -here,” I wondered. Presently there was an alteration in the sounds of -our footsteps and in the gestures of the men. I opened my eyes and -looked up. Close in front of me, over a doorway, was a blue lamp with -the words “Police Station” printed upon it. I knew then that I had been -arrested. The discovery was positively life-giving. To think that it -was over, that the struggle would not have to begin all over again! I -was able to lift my head and walk fairly easily; the crushing sense -of failure was gone. When anticipating events, and trying to prepare -myself for the various stages of the ordeal before me, I had supposed -that one of the worst moments would be this of being actually “had up,” -when I should find myself in the police station and know the first -step towards prison had been taken; that there could be no going back. -When it came to actual experience, Cannon Row police station had all -the attractions of a harbour after a storm. From the moment I set foot -inside this domain of the police nothing could exceed their courtesy -and even sympathy. In a large, nondescript kind of waiting room I -was taken up to a table at which a policeman sat making entries in a -ledger. I was asked my name, address, age, vocation, etc. I wondered -whether I was the only one that had been arrested, but presently two -more of the Deputation came in. The delight at seeing again some of my -companions was very great; it was only then I fully realised how the -isolation from the others had added to the toil and gruesomeness of the -struggle in Parliament Square. We were taken up to a large sort of club -room, in which there were billiard tables. Several of the Deputation -were already there. We were eager, of course, to hear each other’s -experiences. I quickly realised that I had had an unusually good time -of it. Several of them had been thrown on to the ground, some kicked, -one had had her thumb dislocated, another had a sprained ankle. One had -her face streaming with blood from a blow on the nose. Before long Mrs. -Pethick Lawrence joined us. It was a curious sensation on seeing her, -of mingled delight that she was with us again, and indignation that a -woman such as she is should have been arrested. The word quickly went -round that we were to conceal as best we might our various injuries. -It was no part of our policy to get the police into trouble. Except -where they were given definite orders to the contrary, they did their -best for us, and whenever they themselves controlled the situation -their good will towards us was most marked. I remember that the most -difficult thing to disguise was the wounded nose of Miss Dugdale, when -a policeman came up to inquire whether any were hurt or if a doctor -were wanted for us. - -It was here, at Cannon Row, that I first tasted the delights of that -full, unfetterd companionship which is among the greatest immediate -rewards of those who work actively in this cause. No drudgery of -preliminary acquaintanceship has to be got through, no misdoubting -inquiries as to kindred temperaments or interests. The sense of -unity and mutual confidence is complete and begins from the first -unhesitatingly. It was most noticeable, as it had been to me before -when a mere looker-on, that this unity, so far from tending to -produce uniformity of type, had the very opposite effect, it enhanced -individuality. One felt like so many different bolts and cranks and -wheels of a machine, each bringing a different quality to serve a -different purpose for the smooth working of the whole. For the first -time in my life I felt of some use; since we all were so different from -each other, it seemed we could each contribute something to the general -solidarity of experience, of opinion, of conduct. - -The throwing about had brought on an aggressive cough which at first -checked my ardour to brisk up with my companions. I found refuge in -a distant bow window where there was a seat, and where I managed to -allay the worst of my cough. Presently a wardress appeared. I asked her -if we might have a glass of water for myself and one other woman who -had a badly hurt ankle. She was most kind and quickly brought several -glasses. I wrote a letter to my mother, reassuring her as to our having -got through all right, assuming that some account of the way the women -had been treated would appear in the press the next morning, and -knowing how great would be her anxiety in consequence. As I recovered -from the excessive spasms of the cough, I was able to talk to some -of my companions. I felt, for about the fiftieth time since I had -come in touch with the W.S.P.U., ashamed of myself in their presence. -They were drawn from many different grades of society. Several were -women of considerable intellectual gifts, a good many were from the -leisured class, some belonged to the working class. Most of them could -look back on lives of much more useful service to the community than -I could boast, many had made sacrifices greater than my own to join -the Deputation, several were running much graver risk, physically, -in facing the hardship of prison than I incurred. Some had to face -a situation in their homes more distressing even than my own. My -little share of difficulty and sacrifice, of risk and dread, which had -completely filled my horizon for so many weeks, seemed insignificant -enough now. Time passed very slowly, but rather from intensity of -interest, acuteness of minute observation, than from boredom. We were -to be detained until the House of Commons rose. At last at about eleven -the light in the Clock Tower went out and our good friend, Mr. Pethick -Lawrence, appeared and bailed us out for the night. One by one we again -passed before a seated head constable and his book, and were handed an -official paper requiring us to appear at Bow Street the next morning. - -I had made no arrangements as to where I should spend the night, -my chief concern having been to keep secret my share in the day’s -proceedings till they were over. I felt stunned and cold as ice. I -was in a sense, of course, satisfied and glad that, at least, I had -shared what the other women had endured, but for the first time during -that day it had come before me forcibly that, not only the Government, -but the general public too were to a great extent responsible for the -official treatment of the Deputation. I shuddered when I remembered -the crowd of curiosity mongers, most of them “respectable” looking -people who had treated the whole thing as a kind of cock-fight, and who -took sides with the baiters or the baited, according to their apparent -likeliness of victory. It was revolting, the kind of thing I could not -have believed of a London crowd unless I had myself witnessed it. It -made me feel ashamed to the marrow of my bones.[4] - - FOOTNOTE: [4] I met a lady, Winifred, Lady Arran, in July, 1911, - who told me that she had been in Parliament Square and had seen our - Deputation. She saw and recognised me. “But,” she said, “you seemed - not to realise that all the men in the crowd were for you.” - -I took a four-wheeler and made for my youngest sister’s house in -Bloomsbury Square. On the way, by as it seemed a strange coincidence, -I passed my eldest sister, who was just emerging from a theatre with a -friend. I stopped and spoke to her. She apparently did not notice my -dishevelled condition or suspect that I had been with the Deputation. -She told me that she too was staying in Bloomsbury Square. Arrived -there, I found my hostess in bed. I asked her if she could put me -up. “You’ve been with the Deputation?” she asked. “Yes.” “You’ve not -been arrested yourself?” “Yes.” Her look of mingled sympathy and -satisfaction was life-giving, I shall never forget it. Both my sisters -were immensely kind and helpful. The house was full and I shared a -bed with my eldest sister. All night she kept her strong arm round my -heart and steadied my throbbing body which, owing to the attentions -of the police, continued to shake all night. Several times in the -night my sister said with great distress, “Oh! Con, you are not fit to -go to prison;” but she of course, was thinking only of the physical -side of things. We were able to discuss what best could be done to -comfort Mother. Neither of my sisters ever tried to persuade me to take -advantage of any possible way out from imprisonment if it should be -offered at the trial. They knew my decision could only have been taken -after deep and prolonged consideration and for reasons good enough in -my estimation to outweigh all those against. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -POLICE COURT TRIAL - - -In the morning we telephoned to mother, supposing she would have -received my letter, telling her of the trial at Bow Street that -morning, but begging her not to come up for it unless she specially -wished to do so. This telephone message was, unfortunately, the first -news that reached her of my arrest, and was a great shock to her. She -could not have caught a train that would have brought her in time to -Bow Street; my eldest sister, Betty Balfour, and my eldest brother, -Vic, went down to her later in the day. I felt happier than I had -done for a long time. I knew that the first news would be the worst -to her, that had now reached her, all else would seem unimportant in -comparison; the most difficult, most dreaded part of my job was over. -I felt less ill in health than the day before, only played out. My -one anxiety was lest I should break down physically and be dismissed -from the prison at once “on medical grounds.” The wish to avoid this -contingency was about as stimulating a tonic as could be desired. It -had exactly the same happy effect upon me as some people seem to derive -from a glass of brandy. - -My sister, Betty Balfour, drove with me in a hansom to Bow Street. A -considerable crowd was waiting outside the police station; we elbowed -our way through them with great difficulty and only by the help -of the police, to whom we appealed to ease matters “for one of the -accused.” I felt dazed with the press of people. Before long I found -myself in a sort of loose-box guard-room, or wide passage, where all -my fellow criminals and many of their friends were assembled. Many of -my personal friends were there and most heart-gladdeningly kind to me. -I had concocted a short speech, explaining the reasons of my action. -I was told it was not very likely that the magistrate would allow me -to deliver it; my friends kindly helped me to condense it as much -as possible. It consisted of about four short paragraphs, sentences -bearing on the reasonableness, justice and urgency of our demand. I -remember nothing of it but these words: “I have been more proud to -stand by my friends in their trouble than I have ever been of anything -in my life before.” - -Presently there was a roll call and we were all told off to the various -policemen who had taken us prisoners. I had been so exhausted at the -moment of my capture the night before that I had not realised what sort -of a human being underlay the helmet and uniform responsible for my -arrest. In the morning I saw that he was a particularly pleasant-spoken -and obliging man, who seemed to understand all about it from our point -of view. He explained what I had to do. We were first congregated in a -sort of waiting-room with a wooden bench round the wall, and then, as -our time drew near, we were called out into a narrow passage where the -particular policemen who were charging us stood facing us against the -opposite wall. It looked as if we were _vis à vis_ partners waiting -for a country dance to strike up. We went into the court as our names -were called. I was thankful that I knew a little of the hang of the -business from having been present at the trial of Mrs. Pankhurst, -Christabel Pankhurst and Mrs. Drummond. It is the absolutely unknown -element in these kinds of ceremonies that adds considerably to their -fearfulness. My name came rather early on the list. I was thankful that -at least this time I had not to go into the awe-inspiring witness-box. -Sir Albert de Rützen was the magistrate; he seemed old for the work. -His manner throughout was querulous rather than dignified. The feeling -of publicity and exposure struck me as completely odious; I was -extremely nervous and rather dazed. I remember thinking, “If I feel -like this, what must it be for the ordinary prisoners, whether guilty -or not, who, day after day, file into this court?” I had a vague sense -that friends were present amongst the crowd at the back of the court, -but the mechanism of the official proceedings and the individuals who -worked it seemed all at enmity with us--all, that is, except my partner -the policeman. His look, manner and voice were so friendly that the -set phrases in which he told of my conduct in Parliament Square and -consequent arrest had a strangely incongruous and unreal ring about -them. Not that he accused me of anything very terrible. He reported -that I had pushed past him exclaiming, “I must see Mr. Asquith, I must -get to Mr. Asquith.” I had never said anything of the kind, but no -doubt, in the policeman’s estimation, this was a remark in keeping with -my actions, and he thought it most probable that I had said words to -that effect. I did not comment on the charge. It seemed all to be known -and settled beforehand, and the processes which had to be got through -seemed more or less farcical and unreal. When allowed to speak, I -managed hastily to blurt out some of my speech, but I felt that nobody -listened. - -The sentence was one month, with the alternative of being bound over to -“keep the peace.” I was immensely relieved that there was no fine. At -the same time the length of the sentence was a surprise and somewhat -of a shock, although I had prepared myself for it. It seemed hardly -believable that what I had done was really considered worthy of four -weeks in prison. I must, nevertheless, have heard, though the fact did -not penetrate into my mind, that Miss Joachim and several others had, -less than a year ago, been given three months for this crime of going -on a deputation--they, like myself, were first offenders. - -On leaving the court we were taken downstairs to the cells. Four or -five of us were put together. I was in one with Miss Daisy Solomon, -Miss Elsa Gye, my guide and friend of the day before, Miss Dugdale -and a sympathetic young girl unknown to me. These cells are narrow -compartments, unfurnished, except for a wide wooden bench running -the entire length of one wall and terminating in a lavatory seat. -This was unconcealed and without any means of drawing water from -within the cell. It was periodically flushed with water by a pulley -communicating with all the cells from outside. The door had a small -grating of iron bars, through which one could look and speak to -people outside. Many of our friends came by in the passage and spoke -to us through this grille. They also brought us some sandwiches and -fruit--very acceptable. This was the worst moment for the friends, -and several mothers who came to say goodbye to their daughters must -have left feeling very miserable. I felt thankful that my mother was -not there. For me, it seemed the best moment for many a long day. My -part was over, so far as initiative and activities were concerned, -the rest required only enduring, always a much easier job to my lazy -temperament. My sisters and youngest brother came to bid me goodbye. -Some other friends came and said “Well done,” or words of that kind. -Christabel Pankhurst came. She said “Thank you,” and seemed grateful -for my share in the day’s work. This was a most unlooked-for honour and -joy, from that moment I felt a very privileged and happy person. The -sound of her voice and the look in her eyes remained stamped upon my -mind, and played the part of a sort of talisman of consolation whenever -the trials of my imprisonment weighed upon my spirits. - -As for the physical hardships of prison, these had been the first items -to be measured and prepared for when deciding to go on the Deputation; -of all the anticipatory difficulties they had been the least, and it -was a comfort to think that now, before long, one would know the worst -in this respect. I felt considerably exhausted still from the battering -about the day before, and I had a craving to be alone. Unlimited hours -of “solitary confinement” were the most desirable paradise I could -vision to myself. - -It was a time of longer waiting than I had ever thought a single day -could contain. Already one began to taste that peculiar feature, most -markedly characteristic of the whole of prison life, that of being in -ignorance of what is going on outside your cell, of why you are being -kept there, and of what will happen to you when the keys jangle, bolts -rattle, the door is thrown open and you are ordered out. We passed -the time recommending to each other various dodges of how to keep in -touch while in prison. Knocks on the cell walls with a brush or boot, -and at the hour when the wardresses went to meals it was said to be -possible to communicate by speaking on the hot water pipe, which runs -through all the cells, at the point where it touches the wall. We were -to maintain the right to talk to each other at associated labour. Mrs. -Pankhurst had obtained the right to speak to her daughter when they -were in prison together. Otherwise the silence rule, at all other times -we were told, was very rigidly enforced. I showed my companions some -leg and arm exercises which I urged them to do, so as to counteract the -want of exercise and general stagnation of life which makes so many -people ill in prison. We had great fun over this. We were all able to -send messages and little scraps of letters to our relations. I was -distressed that the stranger girl seemed to have no friends, and no -one came to the grille to ask for her. It spoilt the pleasure of our -visitors. She seemed of a very retiring and unassertive nature, and I -did not like to make inquiries as to how we could help her communicate -with her friends for fear that she had none. Happily, just before the -passage was cleared of all visitors, three kind-looking women came to -the window and she sprang up. They were her friends. - -The courtesy of the police continued, and Christabel Pankhurst and a -few others were allowed to remain talking to us for some time after the -general public had been sent out of the passage communicating with the -cells. - -Knowing that we had yet a long day before us, we in turns took -advantage of the lavatory end of the cell, the others mounting -guard in a group round the grating to ensure privacy. This was my -first experience of the publicity attending this process throughout -prison life. It is, without doubt, one of the greatest trials to the -better-educated prisoner; my sympathy went out especially to the -younger members of our Deputation and to all young prisoners. - -At about 2.30 there came a jangling of keys, rattling of bolts, and the -cell doors were thrown open. We came out and lined up in the passage -outside, and our names were called out in the order of our arrest. -There were again some delays and waiting in different passages. One -seemed to be dealt with much like goods at a custom house, certain -facts about one being recurringly inquired after, investigated, noted -in a book, and the goods then passed on for the same process to take -place elsewhere. Eventually we filed out into a courtyard where the -prison van, “Black Maria,” as the hull of a great dead ship, awaited -her cargo. The grim appearance of that celebrated vehicle had always -been a signal to me, when passing it in the street, for having to -repress an instinct to follow it, an awed reverence for the distressful -plight of those inside it, an almost maddening craving to know what -had been the cause of their law-breaking, the nature of their crimes, -how far their present degradation could morally uplift them, what was -happening to their human belongings, what would happen to themselves -when they were once more free, whether indignation, revolt, dull -indifference, remorse, or the harrowingly abject penitence so frequent -in suffering beings was uppermost in their minds. Now I myself was one -of the criminals. I should know the sensations from actual experience, -literally from within. Of course I in no sense regarded myself as a -criminal, and was aware of a detached spectator’s commentary running -through my mind all the while. It suddenly struck me, perhaps, after -all, this is a sensation common to many criminals. A good number of -them no doubt either know they have not, or think they have not, -committed the offence for which they are condemned. Many, while -admitting their acts, probably have a moral standard with regard to -them quite different from that which controls the law. Others, perhaps, -like myself, think their acts were entirely justified and right; -some, again, would feel consciously and aggressively at war with all -recognised standards. - -I had several times seen men arrested and male prisoners in the -streets, travelling, outside prisons and police courts, but I had never -seen any women prisoners. Suddenly the picture of them and of women’s -crimes came into my mind with a rush. Who were the women who, day by -day, trod the very stones on which my feet now stood, whose eyes would -look up, a few minutes after mine, to the terrifying form of Black -Maria? How and why had they broken the law, in what way were they -enemies of Society? The impress of their feet seemed to be one with -mine, and up from that criminals’ pavement their mind seemed to get -into my own. Child-burdened women who were left without money, without -the means or opportunity or physical power to earn it, who had stolen -in order to save their lives and that of their children,--thieves! -Women who from their childhood had been trained to physical shame, -women who at their first adolescence had borne children by their own -fathers under circumstances when resistance was inconceivable. Women -who had been seduced by their employers. Women deceived and deserted -by their friends and lovers. Women employed by their own parents for -wage-earning prostitution. Women reduced to cruelty after being for -years the unconsulted churning mills for producing in degradation -and want and physical suffering the incessant annual babies of an -undesired family. Women who had been stolen in their bloom and -imprisoned for purposes of immoral gain. If amongst such women, such -criminals, there are many who are professionally thieves, prostitutes -“by choice,” immoral “past redemption” as it is called, sodden with -drink, undermined by drug taking, their maternity transformed into -cruelty, their brains worn to madness, what cause is there for surprise -or reproach, and what hope is there of cure by imprisonment? Before -they took to these muddy lanes have they not been driven out from the -fair road? What was their training, what their choice from the start? -Are not the doors of the professions and many trades still barred to -them? Their right to work, a fair value for their work, is it not -denied to them? When they undertake the burdensome but joyous labour -of maternity, is there any security to them of physical respect and -choice, of economic security, of rewardful honour and social influence? -Where is the recognition of the woman’s great service, how is she -helped to render it suitably and efficiently; does the State, the race, -the family, the individual, see to it that she has her reward? - -I moved forward after the others. Black Maria looked like a sort of -hearse with elephantiasis--warranted to carry many coffins concealed -in her body and to bear them to as many graves. She fairly set one -shuddering. To get inside her seemed a sort of living death, certainly, -most literally, entry into another world. For a moment I hesitated and -thought, “Suppose I refuse to get in?” The mere notion called up the -forces arrayed against one and made me realise my utter helplessness. -The gates, the bolts, locks and chains, the cells we had just left, the -court and magistrate, the high walls all around, the enormous policemen -on every hand. The one who stood at the open door of the van said, -“Come along, please.” His words were civil enough and linked one back -to the normal outer world, but his voice and beckoning gesture were -authoritative and the sense of physical power seemed to wedge one in. -It was clear that henceforth all one’s actions would be initiated and -carried out without choice, solely by necessity of obedience. - -The policeman who had special charge of us for the journey was a man -of jovial disposition, and he cracked witticisms as he played his -’bus-conductor’s part. We readily responded to his mood. An antidote -was needed to the grimness of the proceedings, but the merriment was -by no means all forced. As soon as I laid aside the remembrance of the -real prisoners and limited the outlook to that of our own immediate -experience, the comic element was rampant and seemed to dig one in -the ribs, making me laugh with heartiness. We were all, it seemed, -playing some ludicrous, babyish game, unsuited to our years, but all -the more absurd for that. The ’bus-conductor-policeman got inside; we -followed him one by one into the narrow central gangway that forms -the spinal marrow of Black Maria. On either side are tiny separate -cells, like the compartments of a cupboard, the doors of which when -opened completely obstruct the passage so that only one prisoner at a -time can be admitted or released. On first getting in it seems quite -dark, and the sensation of being rapidly pushed into a very small -hole, squeezed back, the door shut and locked to the accompanying -sound of banging and much jangling and turning of keys, is extremely -disagreeable. The cell contains a seat and is ventilated by a grating -in the door, by groups of small holes on either side, in the floor at -one’s feet, and by a wire-netted ventilator running under the roof of -the van, as in a ’bus. The cell was so small that my legs, which are -long, had to be tucked up almost under my chin; I could imagine that -in hot weather the want of air would be oppressive, but though the -sense of being so closely confined was disagreeable, the draughts from -the ventilators seemed to play upon one almost excessively and I felt -very cold. When the cells were all filled the passage was duly packed -with prisoners, standing one against the other like tinned sardines. -As the van was not high enough to admit of standing upright, this -must have been a most tiring position. Presently there was a final -shutting and locking of the outer door, in which was a small grating -window, as we know it from the outside. Then followed a rumbling jerk -and Black Maria’s great overcharged body began her long, jolting drive -to Holloway. The sensation reminded me of a bathing machine when it -sets out for the sea, but the noise and jolting and darkness were all -greater in degree. We tried to communicate with each other, to find -out who was in which cell and who was standing in the passage. We -started singing the Women’s Marseillaise and other of our songs. Those -in the passage managed to put a scarf with our colours through the -ventilator under the coachman’s seat, others passed a scarf through -the grating window of the door at the opposite end. These feats were, -of course, communicated to the whole Maria-full of us, and the news -that the police were allowing the scarves to remain was greeted with -much cheering. Possibly, the driver was unconscious of his magnanimous -action, since the scarf end, I expect, flowed out somewhere near his -feet. The colours every now and then were seen and loudly cheered -by friends in the street. This woke in me an appreciation of the -colours and understanding of their meaning in a way I had not grasped -before. There is so little need for symbolism in these days of print, -newspapers, advertisements, etc., but our movement has had to combat -all the conditions of an era of darkness, ignorance, and barbaric -repression. When newspapers will not accept, publishers will not print, -and booksellers will not sell the true facts concerning us, then a -rapid means of irrepressible communication had to be sought through the -symbolism of colours, purple, white and green--justice, purity, hope. -Wherever you see them you know we are there, and you know our meaning. - -I joined in the songs for as long as I could and in the -counter-cheering whenever we had a cheer from the streets, but I soon -withdrew into the luxury of my solitude. I was exhilarated and happy -in mind, but my physical exhaustion was considerable. The physical tax -of the Deputation and the nervous tax of the trial proceedings had -strained my powers to their uttermost. At last I was alone with myself. -The sense of release from the necessity of keeping up appearances, -of having to put on a good front, was great. I wondered how often -the occupants of my cell in that black hive must have felt the same -after the anguish, suspense, complication of fears, connected with -their trial. I noticed that if for a moment I entertained the idea -of initiative, action, the wish to touch normal existence, to be and -behave like an ordinary being, then the sense of subjection, of being -buried alive was all but insufferable and might quickly drive one to -the verge of insanity. But the physical exhaustion which leads to the -craving for inanition, for solitude and privacy, turned that locked-up -slice of the van into a welcome sanctuary. - -After a long drive, for seemingly the better part of an hour, the -sounds changed and Black Maria quivered over a courtyard pavement, -filling us with expectations of arrival. The jolting and noise ceased, -the doors were unlocked, one by one as we had been packed in we emerged -again and were quickly ushered into Holloway Prison, through what -seemed a back door in a yard surrounded by high walls. It made no -particular impression upon me. It might have been another police court, -less dingy and more clean. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -HOLLOWAY PRISON - - -When we arrived at the prison we formed up along a passage in the order -of our arrest. We were taken in charge by two or three wardresses who, -without a word or sign of greeting, went through the routine of taking -our names, ages, sentences, etc. Then we were removed into waiting -cells, three or four of us to each one. I found myself, to my joy, in -a cell with our leader, Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, Miss Leslie Lawless and -Mrs. Fahey, daughter of the great sculptor Gilbert. Strength came back -into my bones with delight at being with Mrs. Lawrence. She having -been in the prison before gave us various directions and advice. The -cell was small and old, the walls and ceiling were dirty, the window -of grained glass looked extremely dingy; but Mrs. Lawrence said that -in all probability we should eventually be put into new and very clean -cells. There was only one stool. Mrs. Lawrence had to sacrifice herself -and sit on it, as we none of us would do so in her presence. We ranged -ourselves at her feet on the floor, some of us leaning back against -the wall. I was very happy to meet Mrs. Fahey, her father and mine had -known one another; everything about her had the indication that she was -a good woman and probably would become a great one. - -I remember vaguely that conversation turned on to personal yarns as -to how we had severally fared during the Deputation, what had first -brought us into the movement, the experiences of ex-prisoners. We were -to try and claim associated labour and the right to speak to each other -at that time. All other rules so far as we could grasp them were to -be rigidly observed. If anything in the prison routine seemed to us -unjust we were to petition the Home Secretary about it, or ask for an -interview with the Governor. If we were ill or felt that any part of -the prison life was being seriously injurious to our health, we were -to ask to see the doctor. But my recollection of the two or three -hours spent in this cell are vague and shadowy. I was at the end of my -tether, and the craving to be alone overtopped everything else. Soon -after we were inside a light was lit from without, and I noticed for -the first time a curious aperture in the thick wall to the left of the -door. A piece of grained glass near to the passage side of this hole, -shielded the light which was lit from outside. The cell was thus lit -up with rays as from a bull’s eye lantern. These details interested me -very much. I was fascinated in a grim sort of way by the “eye” in the -door of which I had heard so much. An oval wedge-shaped indentation -in the thick nail-studded door, at about the height of one’s head, -was finished off in the centre by a small circular bit of glass about -the size of a large eye-glass. On the passage side of the door this -was overlaid with a bit of wood which could be turned aside like the -flap over a key-hole, for the warders and others to take a look at the -prisoner, unobserved, whenever they chose. - -Presently there was a rattling of keys, the lock turned with what -seemed a thundering sound and the door burst open. I thought it must -be some remarkable and unexpected event that had caused so much hurry -and noise, a fire perhaps had broken out, but this was my first -introduction to the prison door drill; the thunder and rattle and haste -I was soon to learn were the invariable accompaniments of being visited -for no matter what cause. The door was opened only a very little way. -No face was to be seen, but a hand thrust in four tins of food and -loaves of bread on to a little shelf in the corner of the cell nearest -to the door. This was our supper--the last meal before the night. The -little brown loaves looked appetising, and we were hungry. The kind of -breakfast one eats before one’s first “trial” is nothing sumptuous, -and the sandwiches brought in by our friends made an excellent but not -too substantial lunch. The slice of cold pressed meat lying at the -bottom of a dirty-looking tin was not attractive, and the cocoa in a -can of the same metal was positively repellent. We most of us ate some -bread, one was bold enough to try the cocoa, no one sampled the meat. I -thought I would keep my loaf as a sleeping draught for whenever bedtime -came to this seemingly endless day. - -Some time after supper had been let in upon us, the door was again -opened and “Lytton” was summoned to an unknown presence. I was -conducted to a room where a lady in a bonnet stood waiting to receive -me. She was the Matron. She told me in a civil and considerate manner -that she had a letter for me from my mother which she had been allowed -to give to me. I wondered if my mother were ill or inordinately -distressed at my sentence. I had a great longing to take the letter, -but I had prepared myself for special privileges being extended to me -and I was determined not to profit by anything of the sort unless I -could also secure it for my companions. I asked: “Is it not against -prison rules that I should have the letter?” She looked surprised, -but promptly answered, “We make the rules as the occasion calls for, -and you have been allowed to receive this letter.” “Will the other -Suffrage prisoners also be allowed to receive letters?” She hesitated, -but eventually said decisively, “No.” “Then I am afraid I can’t have -this letter either.” In spite of my effort to conceal it, I think she -saw or guessed my great desire to have the letter, for the look in -her eyes became very kind and she pleaded with me to take the letter. -I shook my head. Then she told me it was within the ordinary rules -that she should read the letter to me. I hesitated for a moment; there -might be something sacredly private in the letter and it seemed such -desecration that strangers should know what my mother felt. Then I -glanced at the envelope and realised that it had been officially opened -and probably read already. So I agreed. The letter had been written -under the agitation of the news about me and was not easily legible -in places, so that the matron, although she did her best, could not -decipher some passages, and the tension of deferred anxiety as to its -contents made my mind and hearing dull from overstrain. As a result, -I received the impression that my mother was more angry with me than -was actually the case. She did not speak of being ill or broken down -herself, and I felt I could bear everything but that; but the imagined -degree of her disapproval shadowed the whole of my imprisonment without -cause. However, when I was handed the letter on my release and read it -for myself, I found in it so much more sympathy than I expected that -the rebound of joy made up for everything. My mother had sent it by -her maid to London, telling her to deliver it into the hands of the -Governor with a covering letter to him asking him kindly to give it to -me. She had thought out all this most considerately so that at least -I might be reassured about herself, and be spared any unnecessary -anxiety. The maid, on arriving at Holloway Prison, had sent my mother’s -card up to the Governor as a passport to his presence and asking if -she, the maid, might see him. He understood it to mean that mother -herself was there, and he came rushing down the stairs in hot haste to -greet her! Poor man, how relieved he must have been to find it was only -her maid! - -After the Matron had finished reading the letter I, for the moment, -forgot all wish to restrict my privileges into line with those of other -Suffragettes. I asked, “Can I write an answer to this letter?” “No.” -“Nor send a message?” The Matron shook her head. On returning to my -companions in the waiting cell I told them what had taken place. My -mind was filled with thoughts of my mother and I remember no details -until the door was again thrown open and a wardress told us to line -up in the passage, preparatory to inspection by the medical officer. -It was good to see the rest of the Deputation once more. We were -told to open our dresses and underclothes at the neck so that our -chests might be examined. There was some further waiting, during which -time I was able to take note of the wardresses, several of whom were -waiting about and superintending us while others came and went. They -were fine-looking women, young and vigorous, most of them had good -figures and all of them had beautifully-kept hair which gave me a deal -of pleasure to look at. They wore uniforms more or less in the style -of hospital nurses. Most of them wore dresses of dark blue cloth with -nurse-like, small black bonnets and strings. Some had holland dresses -with aprons, and black velvet bows on their heads. They held themselves -very upright, and their general bearing brought to my mind certain -types of the chaperon’s bench at Court balls. - -I had made up my mind to ask the doctor for a few medical privileges. -I dreaded lest he was coming round to inspect and question us as we -stood in the passage, or that we should have to go before some “board” -or “committee” of men. To my relief I found that we were being shown -into a room singly, and when it came to my turn I found there only one -individual, a young man sitting at a table with a big book in front -of him. I stood beside him and answered his questions with regard to -my age, whether I was married or single, what illnesses I had had, -etc. He then tapped my lungs and examined my heart with a stethoscope. -An infancy and youth of chronic rheumatism had affected my heart, -and the treatment I had received as member of the Deputation had -taxed it severely. Moreover, the news of my mother’s distress, the -prison sounds of keys and bolts, the look of the cells, and my fears -lest the doctor should take alarm at my flimsy physique and order my -dismissal from the prison, each added considerably to my agitation of -that moment. The doctor’s impassive face and manner changed to one of -concerned inquiry after testing my heart. He asked many questions, -and seemed with difficulty to believe when I told him that strict -vegetarianism had cured my chronic rheumatism and that it was six -years since I had anything of an attack. I asked to be allowed flannel -underclothing and vegetarian food. It was a new and strange experience -to be so closely examined by a doctor and not to learn anything of his -verdict. I longed to ask him “What are you going to report about me?” -but I knew that I could do nothing if he should answer “Dismiss you,” -and I was anxious to end the interview as soon as possible. - -After the medical examination we were soon taken off, separately, to -the changing room. Here my trinkets, money, watch, the combs in my -hair, and everything in my pocket were taken from me and a list made, -which I had to sign. I had a great longing to keep my handkerchiefs. -A wardress sitting at a desk with a large book on it asked a further -string of questions as to age, name, address, place of birth, previous -convictions. As I gave “Vienna, Austria,” for the place of my birth, my -father having been in the diplomatic service, I thought how impossible -it would have seemed had some seer foretold, at the time of my birth -in an official residence, that I was destined to be imprisoned in -Holloway as a common criminal. A description of the prisoner’s personal -appearance was also entered in the book. It was a comic moment when the -wardress looked up with her head on one side, as any portrait painter -might do, to investigate the colour of one’s hair and eyes. During all -these processes I had a first opportunity of noticing the manner of -the wardresses which so many Suffragette friends had described to me, -but which had conveyed no clear impression to my mind. I noticed that -there was no inflection in the voice when speaking to prisoners, nor -did the wardresses look at them when addressing them. As a prisoner, it -was almost impossible to look in the eyes of my keepers, they seemed to -fear that direct means of communication; it was as if the wardresses -wore a mask, and withdrew as much as possible all expression of their -own personality or recognition of it in the prisoner. At first, the -impression received was as of something farcical. I remember that it -amused me immensely and absorbed my attention with a sort of fascinated -curiosity. But this soon went off, and made way for a chilling, -deadening impression. When later on I saw it applied to the ordinary -prisoner, to my companions, to our leader, Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, it -aroused in me a feeling of indignation and strong resentment. - -One corner of this room was divided off by a curtain. I was told to -go behind it and take off my clothes. As I removed them one by one -I wondered what would have been my experiences by the time I should -see them again. I was handed a cotton chemise, woollen stockings and -a petticoat. In this queer get-up I was taken to be weighed and -then shown to a bath. The bath compartments were close together in a -passage, like stalls in a stable, each one only just large enough to -contain the bath and a few inches of standing room at one end. The -door was of the cowshed order, about three feet deep, space above and -below, and without a fastening. As I was ushered into one of these, -an ordinary 3rd Division prisoner handed me a bundle of clothes and a -pair of laced shoes. She had a charming, sympathetic face, and I never -shall forget the look of deep kindness in her eyes and in her voice as -she whispered to me, “If the shoes are too small, ask the officer and -she’ll let you have a larger pair.” My tired body, my very soul, seemed -to bask in comfort at her words. I looked and nodded my thanks to her, -afraid to speak, for I had been warned how we might get the prisoners -into trouble by breaking the silence rule with them. - -“So this is the bath of evil fame,” I thought, as I put down the -bundle of clothes on the floor and pulled the cowshed door after me. -For the most part, whatever bit of prison life I had heard about as -specially objectionable seemed to me less bad than I had expected, and -being prepared I was forearmed to put up with it without grumbling. -But the much-abused, dirty bath which had been so often described by -our prisoners, surpassed all expectations. The paint was blistered -and broken to a surface of mottled unevenness in a way to gather the -scum from the water into a thousand crevices every time the bath was -used. Whatever the original colour of the paint might have been, it -was now of a dull mud colour, sufficiently dirty-looking to arouse -every sort of suspicion, but not dark enough to conceal the marks of -the scum most recently added to the crevices. A large but well-worn -scrubbing brush was the only washing appliance, whether for the purpose -of scrubbing the bath or the bather was not stated, probably it was -used indiscriminately for both. I had been given a small towel of -oatmeal-coloured coarse linen striped with red, and a piece of soap -wrapped up in a rag of white flannelette. The water was clean and -delightfully hot. I tried to concentrate my mind on these two great -merits and to raise a sense of present luxury by remembering that this -was the last bath I should be able to indulge in for a week. The soap -had a smell of disinfectant like dog soap, clean and hygienic enough, -no doubt, but under the circumstances a disagreeable reminder of its -anti-verminous properties. The towel, which at first sight seemed -ludicrously small and inadequate for the purpose of drying a body so -large as mine, disclosed with use an almost miraculous faculty for -not absorbing moisture. It left one to dry by dint of friction; my -admiration for this towel grew even greater on closer acquaintance -with it. Then came the moment for the clothes. They certainly looked -a most repellent heap, and it was some time before I recognised their -respective uses, and could decide in what order to put them on. I was -pleased to see that the flannel garments promised by the doctor were -there. Some of my companions, although they asked for and received -permission for the same privilege, did not get any flannel clothes -until the second week, and some not through the whole term of their -imprisonment. Warmth being my first consideration I started off with -a low-necked flannel shirt without sleeves. It was patched in many -places, the patches being so coarsely joined that one could easily -trace their pattern from sensation while wearing it. The flannel was of -numerous shades of yellow and grey, stained in many places, and freely -marked with the broad arrow stamped on in black ink. The original -cut of the shirt had evidently been nondescript. It was very short, -reaching barely below the hips and low at the neck, and the patches set -in at random had added variety and counter design in many directions. -It looked like the production of a maniac. For propaganda purposes it -was an absolutely priceless garment and I determined that, if possible, -it should accompany me out of prison, for the enlightenment of those -critics who are appalled at the leniency of the prison treatment of -Suffragettes. Next I put on a chemise of unbleached, coarse cotton, -striped with red, fairly high at the neck, but without sleeves. This -however, was long to the knees and from its ample voluminous width was -one of the most warmth-producing of the garments. A pair of stays made -without bones but exceedingly stiff and straight in shape. They had -no fastenings and had to be laced up each time; the lace had no metal -tag so that it was a slow process. These stays were so unyielding that -I found it impossible to tie my petticoats around the sheer precipice -of their make, and the very next day I had the courage to dispense -with them. Flannel drawers, short like footballing “shorts,” ditto of -unbleached cotton. A very short flannel petticoat. An old-fashioned -under-petticoat of coarse, linseed-coloured material, thickly pleated -into a cotton band at the waist--it stuck out almost like a crinoline. -Then came the dress, skirt of dark green serge, pleated in same way -as the petticoat and tied with black tape strings, the shirt of same -material fastened by a single button at the neck; this was the only -garment with long sleeves. A blue check apron which tied in the shirt -and gave a very neat appearance. Finally, a small Dutch cap of starched -white calico, tied under the chin with tapes. These caps are full of -stains, from hairpin rust, etc., when seen from within, but outwardly -they have an extremely clean and attractive appearance, redeeming the -degraded look of the dress and decidedly becoming to many of the women. -They pleased me immensely from the first and were a constant joy to my -eyes in all my imprisonments. Two check dusters were supplied, one as a -handkerchief to hang from the apron string, one to be folded diagonally -and worn round the neck, under the serge shirt. I always have thought -this the most comfortable neck covering imaginable and the short -time it takes to put on was a daily renewed pleasure compared to the -complicated neck apparatus of more civilised modern garments with their -innumerable hooks and eyes, pins, brooches, etc. The drawback to this -duster-necktie was that it was identical with the handkerchief-duster, -and, as they were changed from week to week, there was no means of -knowing whether one’s neckerchief of one week had not been the nose -kerchief of another prisoner on previous occasions. As the clothes came -from the laundry with many stains, unironed, unmangled, and looking -in many respects as if they had not been washed, this detail of the -handkerchiefs remained throughout my time in prison one of the most -trying of the physical and minor disagreeables. All the clothes were -marked with the broad arrow, if light in colour they were marked with -black ink or some kind of tar-like sticky substance; if the clothes -were dark, as the petticoat and dress, then with whiting. The stockings -were of thick, rough wool, most irritating to the skin but warm. I -never had a pair that were long enough to cover my knees, and as the -drawers stopped short of the knees in the opposite direction I had the -chance of sampling the knee part of a Highlander’s dress. I thought it -very uncomfortable. Woollen strips were given for garters; I thought -these practical and hygienic. Last of all I turned to the shoes. They -were immensely heavy and looked large enough for a giant, they were new -and exceedingly stiff. After a great struggle I managed to get them on, -but they were so uncomfortable that I remembered the advice of the kind -woman and took them off again. I supposed that now would be my only -chance of asking for another pair, and, although I never have been able -to muster much courage in facing rebuffs, I had an impression that I -should not grow any bolder as prison life went on. It is comparatively -easy to plead or protest on behalf of some general principle, but to -do so for personal advantage was a more effortful business, and yet it -seemed foolish to go in for needless discomforts when a remedy had been -almost officially suggested. I gathered up my soap and towel and put -my head over the cowshed door to inquire if I might come out. My eyes -fell on a prisoner waiting in the passage. She was of the 2nd Division, -for she wore a green dress; those of the 3rd Division wear brown. Her -face had a genial expression and broke into a radiant smile as our eyes -met. I thought I had never seen a more attractive-looking being. In -spite of the subservient humility which the prison uniform conveys, the -look of self-mastery and consequent dignity was prominently expressed -in every line of her face and of her whole form. I felt drawn to -her by a feeling of mixed curiosity and sympathy and determined to -communicate with her if possible. It never occurred to me that she was -a Suffragette. She was Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, as the smile in her eyes -betrayed before many moments had passed. My delight at recognising her -was quickly succeeded by an almost irrepressible wave of indignant -feeling that she should be subjected to these outward symbols of -criminality and shame. However little they were able to degrade her, -the authorities had sentenced her to wear them with that intent. The -futility and injustice of their action seemed to me at that moment -about on a par with each other. - -A wardress told me I might come out. I picked up my shoes and went with -them in my hand to an “officer” who seemed to be the most authoritative -person present. I said to her, “I find these shoes are rather small for -me. Could you kindly let me have a bigger pair?” She seemed not to have -heard what I said, did not look my way, but shouted past me into the -air, speaking in a loud voice, very rapidly, and without any variety of -intonation in a way that sounded strange and unnatural, as if she were -proclaiming an edict written by another person: “It’s -- no -- good -- -complaining -- about -- those; they’re -- the -- largest -- size -- -in -- stock; you -- can’t -- have -- any -- others -- so -- you’d -- -better -- make -- the -- best -- of -- them.” As soon as I realised -that she was answering me I felt very curious and interested. “So that -is what it means,” I thought, “being in prison.” It required no flight -of the imagination, no tags of theory, to understand what the effect of -this manner would be on an ordinary prisoner. - -Mrs. Lawrence and I waited together in the passage. Presently a -wardress came up to us with a paper in her hand and began reading out -the prison rules, which we were told had to be strictly observed under -pain of punishment. There were a great many dealing with a variety of -subjects. She read very fast like a wooden automaton, as if she herself -were weary of this too frequent job. Although I had heard of many of -the rules before from previous prisoners, I could with difficulty catch -the drift, and it struck me how little the ordinary prisoner would be -able to glean from this hurried reading of rules absolutely new to her, -framed in official language often far beyond her comprehension. - -We were then led off through various corridors, taken out of doors and -into another building, weighed a second time, and taken up a staircase. -At the top we were told to remove our shoes and carry them in our -hands. In the passage there were cells with locked gates that looked -very grim, and locked doors behind them. One door opposite the stairs -was open and the gate only closed. This was unlocked for us and we -were ushered into a large high room. A fire burned brightly at one end -and beds were ranged on either side of the walls. It was evidently a -hospital ward. We were shown to the beds nearest the fire-place, on -either side of it, and told they would be ours. Mrs. Lawrence came over -to me and whispered, “They have put us in hospital.” The one thing -on which my hopes had centred throughout that seemingly eternal day -was the prospect of being completely alone at the end of it. Now that -was not to be. For the first time I was taken unawares, had made no -preparation for the contingency; I felt quite unnerved and could have -sobbed like a child. The fact that I was to remain with Mrs. Lawrence -was my only consolation. - -The ward was large and high, with big windows of grained glass at -either end, opened at the top by pulleys so that one could not see out, -but the ventilation was perfect. There were grating ventilators as well -as the windows. It was well warmed by hot pipes running the length of -one wall and by a large coal fire. The furnishings of the fire-place -were both comic and grimly suggestive. A cage of thick iron bars -covered it, from the mantelpiece to the floor, the cage had a central -gate fastened by a padlock and inside this prison was a poker chained -to the side of the grate, as if it could not be trusted not to run away -and escape through the iron bars of the cage. I looked round to see how -much of lunacy, or violent criminality, such as were suggested by these -precautions, was represented amongst the present inmates. There were -ten beds in all, but only four or five occupants; most of them were -already in bed--one looked extremely ill. A wardress, like a nurse, in -a holland gown, came in accompanied by a 3rd Division prisoner carrying -a wicker tray fitted with bottles containing drugs--the “poison-basket” -I called it; it returned regularly twice a day. A dark-looking mixture -was poured into a little cup and handed to me. I explained that I -never took drugs and begged to be excused. “You’ve got to swallow that -to-night--those are my orders, there’s no choice about it. You can ask -the medical officer about it to-morrow.” I supposed that responsibility -for my refusal would fall upon the wardress, so I drank it down. - -We were given slippers to replace the coarse nailed shoes which were -not allowed to be worn in hospital on account of the polished wooden -floor. The slippers were of yellow leather, blackened by much use. -They were extremely dirty, both outside and in, and I made up my mind -never to wear them without the protection of a stocking. Mine were not -a pair, each one had an independence of size and shape which seemed to -endow them with almost human personality; but they were comfortable, -and I grew strangely fond of them before the end of my time. Our -beds were already made; we were each brought a night-gown of coarse, -unbleached calico striped with an occasional red line and marked at -intervals with the broad arrow in tar-like ink; it had long sleeves. We -were also provided with a short, grey flannel dressing-gown and a small -tooth-brush. We were told to undress and to tie up our day clothes in -our aprons, all but the caps; these being both white and starched were -treated with the utmost reverence. I discovered that this arrangement -was most detrimental to the appearance of the apron the next day. Some -prison rules, however trivial and apparently unimportant, are rigidly -enforced, others after the first instructions are never referred to -again. This was one of those, luckily, for an appearance of neatness in -the prisoners depends entirely upon the cap and apron. I soon ventured -upon a different plan of damping the apron over night, folding it -evenly as for ironing and binding it tightly round the heating pipe -whenever I could secure a share of that much sought-after luxury, for -the pipe was not on my side of the ward. This device was successful to -the point of giving me a ludicrous amount of pleasure. When the clothes -were dealt out from the laundry once a week they looked as if they -had been washed in cold water by a child, but the hot-pipe dodge soon -gave them quite a presentable look. In the free world I am accustomed -to sleep in flannel sheets, woollen under-clothes, and a hot bottle, -also with two flannel pillows. The prison equipment was, of course, -not of that order. I took off the dress, stiff petticoat, stays and -neckerchief, but kept on all the rest of the day clothing and wore it -under my night-gown. I also kept on the night-gown in the day time, as -it was the only under-garment with long sleeves. This flagrant break of -the regulations on my part was either not observed or was winked at by -the authorities while I remained in hospital. - -The bedsteads were of iron, the bedding much more luxurious than I had -expected--two mattresses, a pillow, three blankets and calico sheets, -unbleached, with red stripes, and marked frequently with the broad -arrow, as was the rest of the bedding. My sheet, where turned over at -the head, had a large stain, as if oil had been dropped upon it. The -stain was dry, but, nevertheless, extremely objectionable to look at. -I remade the bed, putting the other end of the sheet at the top, only -to find that the stains were everywhere. I seem to have been specially -unfortunate in my outfit on arrival, for both this sheet and my flannel -shirt were more revolting in appearance than anything I saw again in -the whole course of my imprisonments. In one respect I was lucky. My -dress skirt, though painted here and there with the broad arrow and not -new, was yet quite clean and of a convenient length; some of us had to -submit to a skirt that touched the ground, an undesirable length in a -place where dust abounds abnormally and no clothes brush is available, -or else so short that the legs were disagreeably exposed and gave -the appearance of a child’s dress. My dress shirt was quite new, had -evidently not been worn before, a luxury which I much appreciated, -since the sleeves were worn next to the skin and it was made of -non-washing material. - -At each end of the bed was a small iron shelf. At the head were kept -a pint mug for water, tooth-brush, soap, towel, brush and comb. On -the shelf at the foot were a Bible, prayer book, hymn book, small -devotional book, called “The Narrow Way,” and an instructive book on -domestic hygiene, “A Perfect Home and How To Keep It.” This contained -two chapters on the necessity of perfect ventilation in sleeping -rooms, the want of which gave rise to ceaseless complaints from the -Suffragettes in the cells, and the attempt to instruct prisoners by -means of a book, while denying them the primal need therein declared -to be essential, seemed a cruel as well as a rather ludicrous form of -sarcasm. - -We proceeded to undress. I took down my hair, which in those days I -wore puffed out round the head by means of fluffing the inner hair. -The hair brush was of the size and shape of a small shoe brush, black -and with black bristles which, in this particular brush of mine, were -almost worn away. The comb was like a doll’s comb, exactly the size -of my first finger. Though my hair was not particularly abundant, -I struggled in vain for the first two days to get it completely -disentangled with these utterly inadequate tools. There were no looking -glasses anywhere in the prison except, so I heard it rumoured, in the -doctor’s room, but I never saw it when there. I did not attempt to -dress my hair, but did it up in a tight “bun” at the back of my head. -This not only seemed to me most suitable for the prison cap and dress, -but also I had an eye to seizing the advantages of the prison life. -If one was not to have the comforts and luxuries of free, civilised -existence, I thought one had better shed as many as possible of its -burdens; I have always ranked hair dressing as one of these. Some -ex-prisoners had told me that the hair pins we took into prison in -our hair would have to suffice us till our release. Others said that -more could be obtained for the asking. I very soon found out that -asking for extras of this kind generally produced a refusal and often -something of a scolding as well, so that I limited my requests to those -which would, I thought, be of general advantage to others as well as -to myself. I never saw any hair pins being given out, and by the day -of my release my own supply had fallen to three. Despite this lazy -decision on my part I had the greatest admiration for those prisoners -who took a contrary view and who in the teeth of difficulties, such -as no looking glass, an ever-diminishing supply of hair pins, and the -brush and comb as described, yet managed to produce elaborately dressed -heads of hair. Amongst the Suffragettes, a large proportion of them had -remarkably beautiful and abundant hair, which when, towards the end of -my sentence, I saw them in the exercise yard gave me an immense amount -of pleasure. Some of these managed to dress their hair in puffed out -and fashionable ways. Amongst the ordinary prisoners I remember one -in particular who, in the way of hair dressing, excited my admiration -almost to the point of awe. She could boast of no good looks, her face -and her hair were of almost the same shade of pale sand-colour. Through -all the week-days, whenever I saw her, a generous portion of her front -hair was rolled up with bits of the thin, brown toilet paper, of which -a practically unlimited supply is served out to each prisoner, and -which is put to a great variety of uses. On Sunday morning the curl -papers were there as usual, but on Sunday afternoon the bond-hair was -made free and a glory of frizzled hair encircled and brightened her -poor, tired face. This adherence to outer-world Sabbatarian tradition -and conformity to the requirements of orthodox public opinion had a -meaning, an artistic and moral expression almost, in prison, such -as they lack when occurring in ordinary life. The good-will and -neighbourliness of which, no doubt, they were the outward symbol, had -met with their reward, for this woman was allowed a share in some of -the more privileged duties of the prison service. - -I felt very tired as I laid down in the bed, but my brain was screwed -to a pitch of nervous excitement that drove away all possibility of -sleep. The bed and pillow were stonily hard. My pulses beat against the -pillow; the stuffing of it gave back a sort of rattling echo to every -beat. A naked gas jet immediately in front of my eyes was alight all -night. At a long table underneath it sat a wardress reading or sewing -at her own clothes. One of the patients in a bed next but one to mine -seemed to be very ill. She tossed and turned continually, as if in a -high fever, and her voice sounded parched as she coughed or called out -in a half delirious sleep. My distress for her grew as I watched her. -The wardress took not the smallest notice of her. I kept on scheming -as to how I could help her, but my courage repeatedly failed me. At -last I could bear it no longer. I went up to her bed and whispered, “Is -there anything I can do for you?” She answered, “I should like a little -water.” I took the pint mug of white earthenware from the shelf behind -her. It was empty; I took it to the wardress. “May I get that patient -some water?” I asked. She nodded assent. I went to a washing-stand with -two jugs and basins on it that stood against the wall opposite the -entrance door. The wardress beckoned to me and pointed towards another -door which led to a small vestibule giving on to a sink and lavatory. -This door was kept locked in the day time, but now it was open, another -door leading from the vestibule to the landing being locked at night. -I drew some fresh water from the tap. The water in Holloway seemed -to be like mountain water, better than any I have ever tasted in a -town--I suppose because the dry air in prison combined with much dust -makes one very thirsty. The prisoner thanked me most gratifyingly and -told me she was very ill with influenza. I ventured to whisper before -leaving her, “Are you a Suffragette?” “Rather,” came the prompt reply, -and her face brightened at the word. She was a nurse, Miss Povey, of -the Freedom League. The wardress herself had a hard, hacking, bronchial -cough, which must have hurt her a good deal. I longed to suggest -various things to her to ease it, but I had not the courage. Though I -was immensely tired, all possibility of sleep seemed to go further and -further from me, and I was too much on view for my thoughts to rest -on my home and our people. Finally, I settled down to watching the -wardress and the other prisoners, and wondering who they were and what -their crimes. I had never seen many people in bed at night before. It -was amusing to watch their various ways of lying and gestures, but none -of them seemed to be really asleep, or only for very short spells at a -time. The wardress had meals brought to her, and there would be short -snatches of whispered conversation with the wardress who brought them -in. It seemed to me that it must be an appalling way of passing one’s -time. There was not the interest of a night nurse nor the excitement of -a policeman on the beat. There was a large clock at one end of the ward -above a swing door leading to a lavatory. It was an unexpected luxury -to be able to watch the time. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE HOSPITAL - - -At about 5.15 a.m. the stillness of the prison was broken by many -sounds. One of the unexpected things in prison life are the number of -sounds one hears which one cannot interpret at the time, and which are -never accounted for afterwards. One early morning sound, or rather -wrenching noise, seemed to come from the ward or passages below our -own, as if a giant iron fender, with the fireirons loose and rattling -within it, were being dragged from one end of the building to the other. - -At home I am no early riser, and I had looked forward with most -cowardly dread to the prison routine in this respect. The puritanical -elements in my character, which hitherto had failed to drill the rest -of me on this point, took on a triumphant air of sanctimonious glee -with the expectation that a fundamental reform would be wrought in me -by at least this portion of my punishment. But neither the fears of -my vices nor the hopes of my virtues were realised. To rise at 5.30 -requires no heroism, under any conditions, when you have been allowed -to retire to rest at 6.30 or even earlier; but when in addition your -bed is extremely uncomfortable, your pillow seems stuffed with thunder, -you have with difficulty been able to keep warm, and when you have -scarcely been able to sleep a wink all night, then the virtue necessary -to make you rise early is _nil_. - -At 5.30 punctually, a little 3rd Division prisoner, who slept in one of -the infirmary cells along our passage, came in to clean the grate and -light the fire. She moved very quickly and did her work with precision -and dexterity. She had a most attractive and lovable face, refined -features and a beautiful expression. I wondered for what crime she had -been sent to prison. She wore several stripes on her arm denoting good -conduct during a protracted sentence. - -Soon after this the wardress came near my bed and said it was time to -get up. She told me to make my bed and gave me what she called a duster -for the purpose of cleaning the iron bedstead. The duster was a strip -of thick sail-cloth, which moved the dust but refused to absorb it. I -dusted every part of the iron, turned the mattresses and re-made the -bed. A thin counterpane of blue check gave a rather pleasing finish. -This had to be folded in a particular way at the foot of the bed so as -to fall over the side in rectangular fashion. The wardress came up to -show me how to do it. It required a certain dodge which pleased me very -much, as did all the other old-maidish fads of the kind in the prison -routine. But I found that no two experts achieved this bed-cover fold -in quite the same way. On that first morning several of the prisoners, -two wardresses, and one of the overseeing wardresses (“officers” is the -correct term) came up to my bed and refolded the corners of the bed -cover, saying, “You haven’t got that quite right,” or “That’s wrong; -this is the way you should do it.” - -We took it in turns to wash. Hot water was brought by the 3rd Division -servant of the ward in jugs. There were two crockery basins on the -washing-stand, which stood against the wall in the centre of the ward. -Such appointments seemed positively luxurious, but one detail was -sorely lacking, and its absence marred all the rest--privacy. - -When dressed a superintendent “officer” came into the ward. She looked -extremely severe. She asked, “Had I dusted my bed thoroughly before I -made it?” “Yes.” “Had I turned up the movable half of the iron frame, -and dusted it underneath?” “No, I did not know there was a part that -turned up.” She said that was wrong, that another morning I must be -sure and do it, but she did not tell me to make the bed again. I was -fortunate, for I heard afterwards that this same officer took hold of -the bedclothes and threw them all off without explaining to their owner -anything of what it was about. - -Breakfast was brought in at about 6.30. The patients who were well -enough to be out of bed laid the cloth and put out plates from a small -cupboard hung on the wall near the door. Then a wardress and two 3rd -Division prisoners carried in the hot milk and tea in large cans, -loaves of bread, a small supply of butter and boiled eggs. The tea -was ladled out from the cans with a long tin spoon and poured into -the earthenware mugs. It looked as if it must make a great mess, but -was always very skilfully done. The mugs and plates, I was pleased to -notice, were made of leadless glaze. In ordinary life I have always -considered hot boiled milk a very disagreeable drink, but that -morning, after the long wide-awake night, it seemed to me positive -nectar. In hospital we were allowed white bread; it was of excellent -quality, made of seconds flour. Tea and eggs are no part of my diet, -so I was limited to the milk and bread and butter, but they were dealt -out abundantly, all except the butter, which was fresh and of fairly -good quality. Those of us who were well sat at the table all together -and waited on the patients in bed. We were not supposed to talk to -each other, but we were allowed to communicate to a certain extent in -whispers. We were very much amused at each other’s appearance in the -strange clothes and cap. - -After breakfast we cleared the table, the gate of the ward was unlocked -and we carried the crockery to baskets on the floor in the passage. -From there the 3rd Division prisoners took them and washed them out in -the bath room cell next door. The hospital wardress had to stand at -the gate all the time that we were doing this. Some wardresses allowed -us sometimes to come and go freely; others, or the same wardresses on -different days, would allow only one of us out of the ward at a time. -This and all other rules of the kind would hardly ever be told to us in -so many words, but suddenly the wardress would step out and block the -way, laying her hand upon us without a word as if we were animals. This -being handled when there is no occasion for it seems very insulting. -Like all these prison methods, it seemed curious and interesting when -first done to oneself, but aroused a feeling of indignation when one -saw it being done to others. It gave one the feeling of belonging to a -race apart, something degraded and imbecile, despised not only for the -particular crime one had committed but as an all-round inferior being. -The moral influence of this kind of treatment is rubbed in afresh -through every hour of prison life and has a bad moral influence on both -prisoners and wardresses. It seemed, moreover, quite unnecessary. - -After breakfast the chief wardress who had reproved us for not lifting -up the movable section of the beds, beckoned me to her--“Take off your -slippers. Bring your shoes; you have to go before the Senior Medical -Officer.” This made me anxious. I knew quite well that I was not in a -state of ill-health to cause the release of an ordinary prisoner; I -knew, too, that many suffrage prisoners had been kept in prison when -much more seriously ill than I was. But I remembered the specially -constructed rule which had sanctioned a letter being delivered to -me, and I was on the look-out for more privileges of the kind. The -wish was strong in me to have personal experience of the inflictions -which a Liberal Government thought suitable to woman Suffragists, to -share every incident of the treatment which my leaders and friends -had suffered in our cause and to gain some experience of prison life -from within for the sake of one day being equipped to work for prison -reforms. - -Outside the ward I was told to put on my shoes. I hated those shoes -with the vigorous hatred of a child. The laces had no tags, my fingers -were very cold, and being hurried up by the wardress made them the more -awkward. I was given a cloak of green cloth and taken downstairs. -The staircase was of stone and, with my feet encased in these thick -unyielding shoes, I was afraid of slipping. I laid my hand on the -banister to steady myself. “If you must have hold of that rail, can’t -you use the uprights? Don’t you see the top’s polished, you’ll soil -it.” This remark was made by the wardress who shouted past me with a -sort of bark. At the foot of the stairs she pulled at my cloak, “Got -it on inside out, is that how you mean to wear it?” This was said in -the same voice, but I thought I caught something of a twinkle in her -eye as if she were not without a sense of humour and would welcome an -appeal to the same. I noted this for future experimenting, but was at -the moment unable to take advantage of it. I felt mentally stunned, -physically cowed, morally indignant, a blend of sensations which I -think must be common to many prisoners. - -The doctor’s room was a sort of office well lit by several large -windows. The Senior Medical Officer was a different man from the doctor -who had inspected us the previous night. I had expected a struggle -on the question of tonics, but to my delight he quickly agreed that -I should survive without drugs. He spoke in an ordinary voice, his -expression of face and the things he said were quite natural, he -treated me as though I were an ordinary mortal. After even twelve hours -of prison customs this seemed a remarkable and gladdening thing. Up -till that moment I had incessantly wished that I should some day be -able to tell the officials the entirely harmful impression conveyed -by their manner to the prisoners. It was obvious that this official -manner was quite detached from the individual personality of those -who assumed it. They looked and spoke in this way, not to serve their -private ends, but in compliance with some strangely mistaken tradition, -as a matter of conformity. When under the heel of it, one felt a -conviction that no reform of prison regulations would alter the maiming -influence of prison life until this tradition were altered. Now, on -the contrary, I felt equally desirous of proclaiming that here was an -individual with an innate gift to usefully fill the part of prison -official; he had mastered the fundamental matter of treating prisoners -as he would treat other human beings. I think this doctor tried some -slight persuasion to obtain my release by consenting to be bound over. -He quickly saw, however, that my imprisonment was not due to any hasty -or unconsidered act, and he did not press the matter for long. - -It was agreed that I should go back to bed for the benefit of my heart -condition. After the prolonged strain I was only too glad to do this. -The morning, however, was taken up with many visits of inspection. -The Governor made his rounds in a formal way and never relaxed his -official muscles, but he seemed kindly, nevertheless, and I felt sorry -for him having to play what I supposed was a disagreeable game for him. -The matron wore a quite different expression from when I had seen her -the evening before. She looked very tired, and I wondered whether any -part of her work gave her satisfaction. The Chaplain, too, looked ill -and I thought what a harrowing life his must be, always pouring out -sympathy for sorrows and sufferings that he had no power to relieve. -He came up to my bed with a smile and said, in a voice well-flavoured -with contempt: “Well, you must have done something very wicked to -find yourself in here?” I was surprised, supposed he meant it for a -joke; supposed, too, that possibly from his point of view it was an -entirely comic thing that we should be in prison. But it seemed odd -that his imagination and sympathy should not at least have led him to -inquire first what was our point of view in the matter, and he seemed -not to consider it possible that our actions should have entailed -self-sacrifice and the pain of bringing anxiety to those we loved. I -answered: “If I had thought what I did very wicked, I should not have -done it.” - -At ten o’clock hot milk was again brought into the ward for those who -wished for it, also fruit, but, to my great relief, this was optional. -The morning was taken up with cleaning the ward. The 3rd Division -prisoner by a series of processes and with the aid of a long-handled -polisher, first swept, then beeswaxed, then polished the wooden floor. -She did it with the skill of an expert and her graceful gestures were -a pleasure to watch. She never paused for a moment in her work except -when the entry of some official necessitated a temporary suspension. - -Then followed a polishing of metal fixtures and dusting of the walls, -shelves, books, etc. To my great joy, the patients not in bed were -ordered to take part in the dusting. It was a means of practising -my favourite hobby of cleaning, also of keeping warm, of helping -the little 3rd Division prisoner, and occasionally exchanging a -whispered word with her, though this was rarely achieved. The dust -was continuously stirred throughout the morning, moved from the floor, -then from the wall. The grey fluff that came from the bedding and -floated about the floor gathered a certain amount of dust as it was -swept up and eventually burnt in the fire, but no damping or reasonable -process to get rid of the dust was used, so that shelves, books, beds, -were no sooner dusted than they were again covered as before. On one -or two occasions I ventured to damp my duster, but this, of course, -made it very dirty, which result met with disfavour. It was no doubt -felt that as the more vigorous patients had nothing much better to -do, they might as well go on dusting throughout the morning. In an -ordinary home the daily processes of sweeping and dusting always seem -to me absurdly laborious, elaborate and inadequate; the workers at -these household crafts having had so little share in the application of -modern invention to their toil, and little appeal on behalf of public -service and utility has been made to women of higher education and -greater leisure than the workers themselves. The housecraft of prison, -as one watched it day by day, pressed one’s thoughts on to the subject. -The collecting of dust by means of damp cloths immediately followed by -a dry rubber would certainly be more effective. - -At about twelve the midday food was served, it was the most solid -meal in the twenty-four hours. It consisted every day of fried fish, -potatoes, cabbage, bread, butter and a custard pudding or boiled rice -pudding made with eggs. I, being a vegetarian, did not eat fish. After -some days I had the courage to ask for a rice pudding made without -eggs and was allowed this. The food was good and well cooked, but the -absolute monotony of the bill of fare was a great trial to some of the -prisoners, more especially the bed patients. - -In the afternoon, those who were allowed out exercised for an hour -walking round and round a yard with high walls to it. We were exercised -at a different time from ordinary prisoners. We were not allowed to -talk to each other and had to walk single file one behind the other at -a given distance apart. As there were never more than four or five of -us from the hospital a certain amount of laxness was allowed. We could -go our own pace, the faster walkers from time to time overtaking the -slower and now and then one was allowed to stop and lean up against -the wall. The weather was cold, we had frost and snow, during most of -my time in Holloway, and being used to furs, gloves and muffs, I felt -the cold very much especially in my hands. The only extra garment for -out of doors was an unlined cloth cape with hood attached. This was -warmer than it looked. I used to do arm exercises as I walked to stir -my blood. The discomfort of the shoes prevented any joy in walking, -there was no yield in the soles and the hard leather pressed the feet -in a way to make every footstep a consideration. I have sensitive feet -and may have suffered more in this respect than others, but to judge -from appearance the tread and gait of all prisoners is laborious and -artificial, affecting the hang of the whole body, on account of the -shoes. - -I did not go out for the first two or three days. In the afternoon -the sense of fatigue overcame one. Unless the patients were ill enough -to undress and get into bed, they were not allowed to lie on it, we, -however, sometimes sat on a chair close to the bed, leaned our heads -upon the pillow and slept. - -Some read books, others did needlework, others tended the bed patients. - -I am a little deaf, and found it a tiring business after no sleep -at night to hold intercourse by means of whispers, the only form -of conversation allowed, but nevertheless this was far the most -interesting occupation available. People are inclined to be -communicative, although total strangers to each other, when cut off -from their homes and friends and all sharing the same fate. I heard -life stories in Holloway hospital that would fill many novels. I -wondered, as I have always done, how it is that people can trouble to -read books when romance, adventure, comedy, tragedy and pathos are to -hand at all times in more living form and with far greater variety of -event and character. - -At about five the supper was brought in, the food being the same as -at breakfast. I sometimes kept back a potato from the midday meal to -eat cold with the bread and butter. As soon as this was cleared away -we were let out in turns to the bath-room, where a hot foot bath was -provided, and privacy. This was a most welcome luxury. Two mornings -after we had been in, a screen was put round the washing table so that -the morning ablutions became more effective. From this time forward I -experienced nothing to complain of in the washing line. - -These first days of prison, although immensely interesting, were, -nevertheless, longer in point of time than anything I remember in life, -not excluding early childhood. The novelty of every detail and the fact -that observation was sharpened to a pitch only known at moments of -great emotion, no doubt partly accounted for this. - -I knew that my eldest sister had intended to come and visit me as soon -as she could get a permit; I supposed she would have no difficulty. -The first and second day went by and she did not come. I became a -prey to a morbid depression of spirits. Being completely cut off from -previous existence, one rapidly fell into the belief that all friends -and belongings had discarded and forgotten one. This state of mind was -one of the most melancholy experiences of prison. It seems childish and -absurdly unreasonable when remembered after release. It nevertheless -was bitterly real at the time, and a few hours within prison walls were -sufficient to develop the illusion. As with so many other prisoner -sensations, it is akin to child life, engendered from complete -helplessness, subjection to others, ignorance and uninformedness as to -what is happening outside the cramped horizon of the life to which one -is subject. The sense of continuous expectancy and comfort for present -distressful monotony in the belief that undreamed of good might happen -at any moment is also very similar to the mental outlook of children. - -The next day, February 26, Mrs. Pethick Lawrence was summoned out of -the ward. She came back radiant, having had a visit from her husband. -Her happiness and the news she brought back of the outer world shed -joy upon us all, but, nevertheless, I had the feeling all the more -strongly that my own people had forgotten me, since they, I argued, -could have obtained the same privileges as Mr. Lawrence. The ordinary -prisoner is usually allowed a visitor only after the first month of the -sentence has expired. - -The members of the Freedom League were in great excitement, expecting -that their leader would be coming to prison that day and very likely -be sent to hospital. She had been arrested at the head of a deputation -when the other members of the Freedom League had been imprisoned, but -her case had been remanded. In the afternoon the prayer card at the -head of one of the spare beds was altered to one of Roman Catholic -prayers. This was taken to indicate beyond doubt the coming of Mrs. -Despard. I read the Roman Catholic card and thought it compared -favourably, in point of suitability to prisoners, with the selection -made by the Church of England. The hymns, biblical passages and prayers -were more tender and personal and less concerned with misdoing. They -were rather childish, but, as I have pointed out, prisoners resemble -children. - -In the evening, when the curfew hour of our bedtime was already past, a -stranger prisoner, a very remarkable looking woman with white hair, a -fine face, and stately carriage came into the ward, and was immediately -recognised by her followers as their deservedly beloved leader. She -came up to greet Mrs. Lawrence, and they were about to shake hands with -cordiality when the wardress interfered, angrily forbidding them to -touch one another. - -When the poison basket came round that night, I noticed with -admiration and envy Mrs. Despard’s dignified but effectively determined -refusal of the proffered tonic. She discarded the hospital whisper and -said out loud to the drug dispenser: “I have never taken medicine in -my life and I am not going to begin now; I will explain to the doctor -to-morrow.” She was a most vigorous lady. I have never heard of a -prisoner before or since who slept soundly through the first night of -sentence. She walked round the exercise yard, too, at a pace beyond my -powers. I was fortunate in achieving one very interesting conversation -with her, when she told me of how the women’s workrooms instituted -under the recent Local Government Board’s Central Unemployment Fund had -been closed down, on the ground that they were not self-supporting, -although they were worked at less loss and at far less cost per head -than some of the workshops for unemployed male workers. £28,000 was -said to have been spent on one farm colony for men which had produced -only £1,000 return. Yet there was no complaint, no talk of closing -down because of its unremunerative character. £750 had been allotted -for widows’ and single women’s workrooms. These, too, were worked at a -loss as there was not sufficient sale for the clothes they made, and -because of this loss, small in total and far smaller in proportion than -in the men’s work, the room was closed. To our great surprise Mrs. -Despard was released “on medical grounds,” after serving only a week of -her sentence, although she was in robust health. The weekly paper _The -Christian Commonwealth_ had taken up her case and the House of Commons -was circularised by the editor, Mr. Dawson. This is supposed to have -moved the Home Office to clemency. - -One of the patients who slept in a separate cell, but came to the -ward for meals, had a particularly attractive face and personality. -She was exceptionally gentle and courteous in her manner, but her -outward calm nevertheless suggested a reserve of inward force; her -eyes had a way of lighting up suddenly with sympathy, pathos, or fun. -I longed to have a free talk with her. Her name was Mrs. Clarke; she -was one of three Suffragettes, the others being Miss Irene Dallas and -Miss Douglas Smith, who had been arrested on a deputation to Downing -Street on January 24. I had sent in my name for the larger deputation -to the House of Commons. I had been invited to go instead on this -smaller one to Downing Street, but I had refused. When I saw the women -afterwards who had undertaken this much more disagreeable job than -mine, I felt again thoroughly ashamed of myself. I should say they were -all three unusually sensitive to the odiousness of the errand which -had appalled me to the point of shirking it. I did not realise until -after she had left the prison that Mrs. Clarke was a sister of Mrs. -Pankhurst.[5] These three were released on the morning of February 27. -We could just hear the sounds of their welcome and the band playing the -_Marseillaise_ outside the prison, but, of course, could see nothing -through the high, grained-glass windows. One was filled with a great -longing to join them. This was after only thirty-six hours of prison, -I imagined what it must be to those under long sentences when a fellow -prisoner is released. - - FOOTNOTE: [5] Mrs. Clarke was released from Holloway the second time - on December 23, 1910. She died on December 25, 1910. - -On that day, Saturday, at about the time for our exercise, one of -the superior officers came into the ward and, singling me out from -the others, ordered me to leave my slippers, bring my shoes to put -on outside and follow her. I had already learnt the order of the -daily routine, and every event that was slightly exceptional filled -me with hope that my turn had come for a “visitor,” but I had had -several disappointments in this line and so steeled myself not to -expect too readily. I was taken across the yard of the main entrance -and ushered through a part of the prison where I had not been before -to a row of rooms looking like small offices with glass doors, giving -on to a passage. On the door to which I was led was written the word -“Solicitor,” and almost before I had time for joyous conjectures as -to who my “visitor” could be, the door was opened and my sister, -Betty Balfour, was facing me. It was like seeing the sun after a long -time of darkness. I only then realised to what an extent the gloom of -prison surroundings and anxiety about my home people had taken hold -of my mind. The sight of my sister did not dispel them, but seemed -to take me from within their grip to an independent position outside -of them, the physical trials of my fellow Suffragettes in our ward, -the anti-happiness get up of the prison building, clothing, food, -equipment, and the general vitality-destroying framework of the prison -system and its officials, seemed suddenly to be a thing apart from me -instead of one with my very self. - -We were told to seat ourselves on opposite sides of a small table and -not to touch each other nor pass anything from one to the other. The -door was left open and the wardress sat just outside so as to hear, -and if necessary control our communications. She was a benignant, -kindly woman whom I had not seen before; she reminded me of Madeleine -de Rohan, of the Theatre Français, in _Le Monde où l’on s’ennui_. -She was dignified, gentle, sympathetic. I was nevertheless afraid of -her, or rather of the office which she filled, and wished her miles -away. I never saw her again, either during my month in Holloway or on -the many occasions when I have since revisited it on behalf of other -prisoners. I have tried several times to write down my impressions -of this “visit” from my sister. I have to own myself beaten. The joy -of it seems so exaggerated, I cannot trust myself to convey it for -publication. All prison sensations are exaggerated from the point of -view of those out of prison, that is their essential characteristic. -Still more exaggerated must a genuine description of them seem to a -prison official who is used to witness without sharing them. For men -and women who have experienced them, it is never again possible to -discredit their intensity or to be contemptuous towards those who try -to give expression to them. My own recollections of prison are isolated -from other parts of my life by a kind of halo of reverence. Awe comes -over me whenever they are in my mind; this awe and reverence are twice -as powerful in connection with those moments when joy had her turn, -and these rare occasions of gladness outweigh from their importance the -much more numerous experiences of gloom, anxiety, anger and physical -suffering. - -After twenty minutes of eager and joyful ecstasy of communication, -during which I drank in the sight and sound of my sister’s loved -personality, the wardress told us that our time was up and I was taken -away. My sister and I were allowed to kiss each other before parting. -When I got back to hospital I had three very distinct sensations. -That of having experienced a good thing which was over; distress at -not being able to impart my joy to my companions nor discuss it with -them, since none of them knew my sister; indignation when I realised -that no ordinary prisoner, who needed the help of joy so much more -than I did, and no Suffragette prisoner without influential friends, -would be able to have a similar experience until after the first -month of imprisonment. In the practical sense more especially, for -the settlement of business and family affairs, it is on first being -imprisoned that letters and interviews are needed by prisoners. - -The glow of my own happiness, however, triumphed over all else until -bed time, when with a perversity born, I suppose, of the accumulated -fatigue of recent days and nights, the one flaw in my sister’s -visit came uppermost in my thoughts and possessed my brain with an -unconquerable tyranny. Some days before the deputation, she had been -in correspondence with a leading Conservative M.P., one whose lifelong -belief in Woman Suffrage had become a little rusty. The questions he -put to my sister proved that he had not kept pace with recent events -in the movement and was unaware of the tremendous demand made by women -themselves for the vote as evidenced by the resolutions, petitions, -and unreceived deputations of organised societies of working and -professional women, quite apart from the unions that had sprung up -everywhere expressly in support of the Suffrage. I had sent her a -collection of printed evidence to this effect for the benefit of her -correspondent and I inquired of her eagerly that afternoon as to the -result. She told me that she had unfortunately lost the papers. I was -annoyed and wasted several minutes of our precious time together in -reproof. The memory of my anger came back to me now in exaggerated -dimensions. Why had I allowed myself to be reproachful to her? She had -been so dear to me, so prompt and efficient in her efforts to come and -see me, so comforting in her wealth of sympathy, and I had rewarded her -with reproaches! As I went back over the scene, my heart was wrung with -longing to send her some little message of good-will and my inability -to do so appeared to me then as nothing short of a tragedy. For the -fiftieth time in those first hours of imprisonment I seemed to be and -to feel like a child, at the mercy of fluctuating emotions extreme in -their intensity. I longed to be alone, but that night the ward patients -kept unusually wide awake and I had to restrain myself over and over -again. As the night wore on, the avenue of beds became less troubled, a -sense of privacy grew in proportion and at last I gave way to my grief -and sobbed. I covered my face in the bedclothes, but in spite of this -precaution the wardress heard me and before long she came and stood by -my side. I expected a scolding. She very seldom took any notice of the -patients till morning, I knew it was her business to reprove me, but on -looking up at her face I saw that the customary mask-like expression -had vanished. She was kind, she inquired tenderly why I was crying, -sat down on my bed and held my hands, told me that my sister would not -remember my reproaches but would be unhappy if she knew of my present -distress. She did not laugh at me, she showed as much sympathy as a -friend. It was a great surprise. She stayed talking to me in whispers -for a considerable time, though looking continually towards the door as -if in fear of being detected in a kindness, for through the night as -through the day, she was liable to unseen inspection through the locked -gate and open door, or through the spy-hole of the door when closed. -I was most deeply grateful to her, it was a delightful discovery that -underneath her rigid exterior she was an unspoiled human being. I -longed to return her kindness and ventured to propose that I should rub -her chest to ease her hacking cough. At first she would not hear of it, -but at last, after I had fetched some ointment from the bed-head of -one of the patients who had a cough, she consented and allowed me to -open her dress. She seemed much afraid and told me she would probably -be dismissed if we were seen. My attempts to allay her distress eased -my own mind of its childish trouble, for which reason she had probably -allowed me to help her. I would gladly have talked to her all night -about prisoners, the working conditions of wardresses, her own life, -but this, of course, was forbidden. She soon went back to her table, -her face resumed its former expression and I never again held any -intercourse with her. If the horrors of prison existence are enshrined -in an atmosphere of nightmare, the rare happy moments have the glamour -of a good dream. This kind act of the night-wardress remains as one of -the sunlit flower patches of my time in Holloway. - -The next morning after the superior officer had been her rounds taking -temperatures, she beckoned me to her. “What have you been complaining -about?” she asked sharply. “I haven’t been complaining,” I answered. -“Yes, you have--you complained of something to a visitor.” I then -remembered that, when reassuring my sister as to my health and to -prove to her the genuineness of my statements as to prison conditions -being in no way harmful to me, I had mentioned two things which proved -rather trying, viz., that my underclothes and stockings were too short -to cover my knees, and the fact that one small towel had to do service -for all purposes during a week. I reported this to the wardress, but -explained that I had mentioned these not in complaint but to prove to -my sister that my discomforts were insignificant. “Well,” she retorted, -“next time you have anything to complain of come to me with it--if -not I shall get into trouble.” This seemed the very reverse of prison -regulations, for usually the trouble was caused by anything out of the -ordinary being granted to a prisoner. From that time forward I was -supplied with two towels, one of them renewed every week, and two rolls -of flannel bandages were brought to me to cover my knees. I supposed -that the ordinary cells, to which I expected soon to be transferred, -would be much colder than the hospital, so I held the flannel bandages -in reserve. After I came out of prison I heard that my family were -troubled, knowing how dependent I was upon warm underclothes, -especially at night. My eldest brother had interviewed the head of the -Prison Commissioners Department, Sir Evelyn Ruggles-Brise, who had said -that I should at once be supplied with bed-socks. Bed-socks, of course, -do not grow in prisons. They were represented, I suppose, by my flannel -bandages, but the official statement had the desired result of quieting -my family’s anxiety. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -SOME TYPES OF PRISONERS - - -There was no chapel for us on Sunday and it seemed an unusually long -day. My thoughts yearned towards my home people, and I rehearsed -the joy of my sister’s visit over and over again. The excitement of -seeing her had now given way to a wholesome and relaxed fatigue and -I looked forward to another night with a sure expectation of sleep. -In the evening at about six o’clock, our bed time, a new patient was -brought into the ward. She was carried in by 3rd Division prisoners, -helped by a head officer, sitting upright in an ordinary armchair with -carrying poles attached to the arms. She looked extremely ill and ashy -pale. She was evidently in great pain, though she did not groan or -call out. There was nothing in the way she was treated to suggest a -surgical case, and I concluded that she had been brought in for some -fever or acute internal complaint; from the look on her face I thought -it not unlikely that she might die in the night. She was a stranger -to me and after the first few minutes my instinct was to turn away -and not look at her, remembering the distressing sense of publicity -which I myself had felt so acutely on first coming to hospital. The -news quickly spread in the ward that she was a member of the Freedom -League, by name Mrs. Meredith Macdonald. She had several friends in -the ward, but they scarcely recognised her when she was first brought -in. They told me that she had fallen down that morning in the exercise -yard, which was slippery from frost, and had injured her leg at the -hip joint. I soon got to know her myself and talked much with her. No -nurse was in attendance on her during the night, only the ordinary -night officer (wardress). The anguish of acute suffering in this -newcomer and her harrowingly unassisted condition, drove all thoughts -of my own people from my mind and all question of sleep from my eyes. -The accident had taken place at about 9.30 a.m. She had slipped over a -small gutter and fallen with great suddenness to the ground. She lay -for several minutes stunned in the snow. The wardress in charge ordered -her to “go into the middle,” where those who cannot walk fast drag -round in a smaller circle, but she did not attempt to move. Some of her -fellow prisoners came to her assistance, they were immediately ordered -away by the officers. She looked across the yard to the wardress of her -own corridor who then came to help her. “I have hurt my thigh,” she -said; “I think I had better go in.” The wardress answered, “Very well.” -As soon as she began to walk she felt pain in the hip bone and put -her hand on the wardress’s shoulder for support. It was a very short -distance to her block (D X) of the building and on reaching it she was -handed over to another wardress who suggested she should sit down and -rest before going up to her cell. She was about to do this when her -right leg collapsed completely under her and she would have fallen, -but that a wardress held her up and put her into a chair. She was then -told to go upstairs “before you get any stiffer.” The leg was useless, -but by help of the double banisters she hopped up two flights to her -cell, an older wardress from the upper corridor lending her assistance. -She had no control over her foot and said to the elder wardress that -there must be something wrong. The wardress answered, “I am afraid -you have injured the muscles and that is a very painful thing,” and -offered to put her to bed. She could not face the additional pain of -being undressed. About half an hour later a doctor and the hospital -superintendent visited her, and she was subjected to extreme pain by a -reckless testing. She herself suspected a fracture and suggested having -recourse to X-rays as the only means of satisfactorily testing this. -She pleaded the special need in her case of, if possible, retaining her -walking power on account of her young children. The doctor sent her -a draught to ease the pain, but this was quite ineffective. She lay -in her cell all day unable to keep still for long on account of the -pressure of the injured part on the mattress, and yet every move was -exquisitely painful. In the evening the doctor came again and renewed -his agonising overhauling. She was then removed to hospital, the chair -in which they carried her, having no foot rest, the injured leg came in -frequent contact with the porters, causing her the intensest pain. It -is not surprising that she looked more dead than alive on reaching the -ward. - -The injury and the rough methods of investigation combined produced a -feverish and most painful condition in the patient. The case was taken -over by another doctor (Dr. Sullivan) who at least handled the injury -much less brutally, but no attempt was made to treat it surgically. -A slight wound in the lower part of the leg was occasionally dressed -and bandaged by the hospital wardress, who visited us twice a day -when temperatures were taken and drugs distributed. There was no -other nursing whatever. The doctor’s examinations consisted only of -measurements to compare the length of the injured leg with the healthy -one. Nothing was done, in recognition of fracture, to reset the bones -or keep the limb in one position, no weight was applied to stretch -the shorter injured leg; there seemed to be no aim in the doctor’s -recommendations beyond that of helping to restore a bruised bone by -as nearly a natural use of it as the patient could be urged to make. -A circular air-cushion was supplied and extra pillows; also a night -table by the side of the patient’s bed, and a bed pan was kept in the -ward which could be used for bed-patients with the voluntary assistance -either of the wardress in charge or of the fellow-prisoners. Mrs. -Macdonald was kept in bed for the first few days, but the extremely -painful pressure from lying on the injured bone with the legs in -flat position caused her incessant restlessness, and before long she -begged leave to get up and sit in an armchair. This was allowed and -soon she was urged to move about, walk and use the leg as much as -possible. In spite of the most heroic efforts, the last recommendation -was impossible. She moved about leaning on a chair by way of crutch -and getting up or sitting down with the help of her fellow-prisoners. -The complete loss of control over the injured leg pointed, in my -estimation, to much more serious harm than mere bruising. I felt the -greatest indignation from that first evening of her entrance among us -at the way this prisoner was treated. Her suggestion about the X-rays -was ignored, her request to the Governor, and eventually her petition -to the Home Secretary, that she might be visited by her own doctor was -refused. When the doctors talked with her about her case they seemed to -pay no attention to her own views, but rather accentuated the official -prison manner of ignoring individuals as though she had been a child or -an irresponsible person. Yet there was no trace of exaggeration or a -tendency to work up grievances over her own case. Through all her acute -and continuous physical suffering she showed keen powers of observation -and a sense of humour that constantly relieved the nightmare of horror -with which I watched her pain. Her heroism under physical suffering -surpassed anything I have ever come across or imagined possible. During -the nights I was with her in the ward, about four or five, I slept very -little myself and whenever I looked at her she was awake. I did not -once see her asleep by day or night while I was with her in prison. It -is only since seeing her in free life that I have been able to compare -her face under normal conditions and realised the intensity of distress -which must have caused the continually strained expression she had in -Holloway, varied at times by contortions due to acute pain. Yet she -spoke little of her sufferings, seldom complained of anything, never -once was irritable under her trials or indignant at the treatment of -them, never once groaned or cried. She was uniformly patient, gentle, -self-contained, considerate of others. - -I still was unable to get any sleep at night, but when a few days had -gone by I ventured to make up my bed so that I faced the wall instead -of the ward. This gave a greater sense of privacy and sheltered my -eyes from the blinding light of the naked gas jet. I very much missed -a habit I have of doing various physical exercises before going to -bed. About halfway through the night I made amends for this by going -to the little ante-room near the sink and lavatory, the door of which -communicating with the ward was left unlocked at night. Here, taking it -corner ways, there was just room for me to stretch my arms full length. -I consider it was thanks to this midnight practice that I was able to -keep my digestion in better order than is usual among prisoners. - -Hospital patients are not allowed to go to the daily service in chapel, -but occasionally we were taken down to a morning service, in the nature -of family prayers, which was held in the ward below ours. This was -given over mostly to feeble-minded patients, several of whom were in -bed. My place was always the same, close to the bed of a woman whose -face will haunt me, I think, as long as I live. I never saw her move, -she lay quite flat, her head alone appearing above the bed clothes. -She took no part in the service and seemed to be unconscious of it. -She was young, her skin was remarkably smooth and devoid of expressive -lines, but yellow as if she had jaundice. Her appearance illustrated -to me the meaning of despair more clearly than I have seen it hitherto -in any living being. She was entirely passive and unresentful, but if -hope had tried to enter into her mind it would find no lodging there. -It seemed to me that neither life nor death had anything to offer her, -nor was there anything she possessed of which they could rob her. While -I stood or sat through the service my back was turned on her, but when -I knelt down I was facing her. One could not feel pity for her--there -was a rigid dignity and detachedness about her as of someone living -in an atmosphere different from our own. All my thoughts and prayers -were bent towards her, but I never had the sensation of in any way -communicating with her. - -I noticed regretfully that there were no hymns, hardly any passages -from the Bible were read, the prayers selected were of a dolorous -order, and the greater part of the time was taken up by an address -from the chaplain. He spoke to us of the temptation in the wilderness, -how that Christ was tempted in the same way that we are, but that -He was good and we were bad. He instanced how wrong it would be if, -when we were hungry, we yielded to the temptation of stealing bread. -At this remark an old woman stood up. She was tall and gaunt, her -face seamed with life, her hands gnarled and worn with work. One saw -that whatever her crimes might have been she had evidently toiled -incessantly. At this moment her face wore an expression of strained -intensity as though some irresistible tide of inward emotion had forced -her to act. The tears streamed down her furrowed cheeks as she said -in a pleading, reverent voice, “Oh, sir, don’t be so hard on us.” The -wardresses immediately came up to her, took her by the shoulders and -hustled her out of the ward; we never saw her again. The Chaplain -did not answer nor even look at her, and continued his address as if -nothing had happened. A feeling of passionate indignation took hold -of me, succeeded by the feeling of helplessness and irresponsibility -which stifles vitality and above all every good impulse in prison. -Sympathy for the ejected prisoner, disagreement with the man who -officially represented the teaching of Christianity, neither of these -thoughts could find vent in words or actions; they become stored up -in a brooding, malignant attitude of resentment towards the whole -prison system, its infamous aim, its profound unreason, and the cruelly -devitalising distortion of its results. - -When we were back in our ward the Chaplain came to visit us. This time, -he knew who I was. I asked him about the prison library which was under -his charge. I wished to send some books when I was free, amongst others -George Moore’s story of “Esther Waters.” I thought that novel ought -to be in every woman’s prison because of the heroic and triumphant -struggle depicted in it of the mother of an illegitimate child. I -asked the Chaplain if he knew it and would allow me to send it. He -answered that he did not know the book, and added, “But your ladyship -is such a good judge of literature, I should leave the choice of books -entirely to you.” Whenever officials visited the ward we were supposed -each to stand at the foot of the bed allotted to us. Complete silence -was the rule. This remark of the Chaplain’s was, therefore, overheard -by many of my fellow-prisoners. From that moment I was nick-named -“your ladyship.” As soon as the official round was over several of -us came together and, as was inevitable, compared the attitude of -the Chaplain towards the prisoner who had appealed to him during his -address and towards myself. It was on this occasion I first noticed -that the dress-jacket I wore was different from those of my companions; -mine was evidently quite new and without the broad arrow markings. A -fellow-prisoner, Miss Povey, member of the Freedom League, to whom I -had brought a glass of water during the first night, came to my rescue. -She was now sufficiently recovered to be out of bed during part of the -day. She had a great sense of humour and immediately responded to my -need. We seized a brief moment when the wardress was standing in the -doorway, we took shelter behind the open door and swopped each other’s -serge shirts. She was small made and for once this portion of the -clothing had been more or less well adapted to our respective sizes. -The sleeves of my shirt were half a length longer than she required, -and though she put a large tuck in them they retained their superfluity -of size. The sleeves of her shirt did not reach my wrists and as the -solitary button at the neck did not secure the closing of the jacket -down the front, I had continually to be pulling it together again in -the course of the day. It was marked in many places with the broad -arrow, but had been so well worn, as the lining of the neck and cuffs -attested, that the white paint of the markings had almost chipped off -in several places. From this time onward it became a sort of game to -watch for the privileges that were accorded to me. Prisoners who had -been in before explained that until I came there were never knives and -forks supplied as we now enjoyed, the fare, too, had been made more -luxurious. - -After three or four days I had practically recovered from the effects -of the treatment meted out to the Deputation, and, but for the want -of sleep and its results, had regained my normal health. I was very -anxious to leave the hospital, partly because I wanted to share the lot -of the bulk of my Suffragette companions and to ensure that they should -benefit by whatever unusual privileges were accorded to me. Secondly, -I wished to know from my own experience the routine life of ordinary -prisoners and to see more of them, which I supposed would be possible -away from the ward. Finally, my appetite for solitude grew from hour -to hour. I feared that continued lack of sleep (I am a slave to sleep) -might tell on me in a way to seriously handicap my health and cause my -friends and belongings anxiety after my release, which could easily be -avoided. Consequently, every morning when the Governor and doctor came -on their round I asked leave to go to “the other side,” as the ordinary -cell buildings were called. My monotonous request was as monotonously -refused from day to day. The Governor replied that I must first -obtain consent from the doctors, the doctors insisted that my heart -was in a condition to make the routine of floor-washing, plank bed, -etc., injurious to me. One of the doctors did not trouble to continue -feeling my pulse, he simply dismissed my request to be moved with the -statement, “As for you, you are suffering from serious heart disease, -you can’t be let out of hospital.” - -To harden myself for the cell routine I shared more and more in the -cleaning processes of the ward. Besides the emptying of basins and -dusting the walls as high as my arms could reach, the big table had -to be moved for floor polishing, and I helped the little 3rd Division -ward-cleaner with this. She was very small and worked unremittingly all -day. She used to flush very much over the floor-polishing, although she -was most dexterous with the heavy, long-handled polisher, and did all -her duties with admirable labour-saving skill and sequence. I wondered -how much her heart condition was considered. I felt a great interest -in her. Her face, expression, and manners were those of an essentially -good woman, she was intelligent, had a sense of humour, was loyal to -both the officials and her fellow-prisoners; she seemed in every way -above the average of mortals. I wondered what offence against the law -could have brought her to prison, she had several bars on her sleeve, -implying a long sentence. I found she had committed one of the most -grievous crimes which it is possible to commit, the most unnatural, and -opposed to all that lies at the root well-being of a race or nation. -She had killed her own child. Yet when I came to know the facts, it -seemed to me that her actions were fully accounted for, and even -had her child-killing been more deliberate than it actually was, it -was impossible to condemn this action in a human being who had been -squeezed by such opposing forces. Her story was told me in snatches -partly by the other prisoners, partly by one of the wardresses, and -partly by herself as I used to kneel by her side to put floor refuse -into the fire at the rare moments when the enormous padlock of the -fender door had been released. Her story was this. She was a servant, -and had been seduced by her master. She, of course, was dismissed from -his service. When the child was born, he had at first contributed to -its support, but after a while had ceased to do so and disappeared, -leaving no address. She had taken the greatest pride in bringing up her -child, a boy, to whom she was devoted. Her cell was one of those just -outside the general ward. It was sometimes used for the reception of -visitors to hospital patients who were too ill to go across the way. -When this happened she always asked the prisoners eagerly on their -return, “Did you see the photo of my boy?” Having been in prison many -months she was allowed to receive and keep this photograph. To return -to her story, as time went on the struggle to maintain herself and her -child was considerable. She made a friend, a man of her own class, who -knew her history, respected her for her good motherhood and promised -to marry her as soon as a sufficiently good job came his way. Before -long the job was said to have been offered him, marriage was in sight, -and they plighted their troth with the seal which knows no undoing. The -work failed, marriage prospects paled, her friend deserted her and she -found herself faced with the prospect which she now understood only too -well, of disabled health, unemployment, disgrace, and a second child to -maintain unaided. She kept on at her employment--in a laundry--until -the very hour of her premature confinement. Then worn out in body and -spirit, and quite alone at the moment of her trouble, she had in her -distraction and misery strangled her baby. She went on with her work -at the laundry. It was the father of her child who gave her up to the -police; according to one rendering, he did so because she was so ill he -thought it the only way to secure for her “a rest.” She had an uncle, -a citizen of London, a publican, who used his influence on her behalf -at her trial so that she was condemned on the charge of “concealment -of birth,” not of child-murder. Prisoners are allowed visitors once a -month, but no one had been to see her for several months. I determined -I should be one of her visitors as soon as I was again free, so -that we might hold a sustained conversation of a kind impossible to -fellow-prisoners. - -I often tell the story of this girl as an example of the neglect of -women’s interests and the consequent need for the recognition of their -citizenship so that legislation and administrators of the law should -be responsible to both sexes. My listeners have sometimes commented: -“But what difference could the vote make? and how could legislation -alter these admittedly tragic situations?” At this very time (March, -1909) the women of Norway who had recently been enfranchised, but had -not yet exercised the vote, were drafting a bill for the protection -of illegitimate children. I think there could not be a better example -of how a fundamental change could be made in both the educative and -protective side of legislation as between men and women, pre-eminently -just and without any reactionary vindictiveness on the part of women. -The essence of this law is simply recognition of the fact that -every child has two parents and that the burden and responsibility -of producing children should, therefore, be shared by both in so -far as law can secure equality. According to this Norwegian law, -_the mother is given the right during pregnancy to inform the local -authorities of the name of the father. The man whose name is given -may deny responsibility within fourteen days. If he does not, he is -registered as the father; if he denies it the burden of proof rests -with the mother. The father can be compelled to support the mother -for three months before_ (in England the law gives her no claim upon -the father until after the birth of the child), _and, in certain -instances, for nine months after confinement, and he is bound to -support the child until it is sixteen years old_. A man at the time -of intimacy is comparatively willing to undertake his share of these -situations; after the lapse of many months he is more inclined to -try and shirk them. In the case of denial on the part of the man, -how much easier it would be for the woman to prove her case when the -friendship had been recent and witnesses could be brought forward in -support of corroborating evidence. Ten or twelve months later such -witnesses have often dispersed or their memories grown hazy. Owing to -the undefended, economically unsupported position of these mothers, -certain results inevitably follow--loss of respectable situations and -consequent necessity for the women to have recourse to more precarious, -more laborious, and worse paid employment, with their lowered social -status pressing heavily upon them in every direction. These conditions, -reacting on the exceptional physical state of the mother, claim their -inevitable toll from the life-blood of the child. It is not surprising -that the deaths of illegitimate children are nearly double those of -children born in wedlock; for 1911, the statistics, the latest issued, -show deaths of infants under one year in England and Wales, in wedlock -249.37 per thousand births, illegitimate 489.99. With the mother’s -maintenance secured, something tangible is being done to save the -health as well as the life of future generations. _The woman can draw -the amount of her claim through the local authorities who recover -it from the father._ This is an immense safeguard. Constantly under -the legal conditions here, when the mother’s claim has been proved, -admitted by the father and paid by him for a few weeks, he moves away -before long, leaving no address and the woman, even if she knows of his -whereabouts, cannot enforce her claim without irksome and difficult -legal procedure. It is far easier for the public authority to pursue -him, but even if this proves in some cases impossible, it is better for -the State to lose its money than the life or health of its citizens. -The State always pays in the end. _The child has the right to bear the -father’s name and, in the event of his intestacy, has the same rights -of succession as his legitimate children._ Just imagine how this clause -would alter the outlook of parents when educating their sons, more -especially in those spheres of society where such unions on the part of -men are almost invariably with women of a lower class than their own, -and it is these unions which produce tragic and evil results far more -socially and racially injurious than illegitimate unions among men and -women of the same class.[6] - - FOOTNOTE: [6] This bill, I believe, was passed in Norway, with some - alterations. - -Another of the hospital patients, a member of our Deputation, Miss -Leslie Lawless, was gravely ill with her lungs. She seemed in a high -fever and we were very anxious about her. The prison clothes hang -loosely upon one, and, though this is healthy in principle, they -seem draughty and cold after modern garments, such as close-fitting -undervests, etc. She had caught a severe chill waiting about for more -than an hour in the draughty passages after the reception bath. She had -been very ill and suffered much in her cell before being brought, only -after the third day, to hospital. Mrs. Duval, a member of the Freedom -League, was another really suffering patient. She had come up to London -to see the results of the Freedom League Deputation. She was walking -about the street when the Deputation had already been arrested. She -was not taking part in any form of disturbance or demonstration. She -was arrested on the ground that she was “known to be one of them.” Two -gentlemen, total strangers, who witnessed her arrest, volunteered to -come into court and speak on her behalf. She was nevertheless found -guilty and sentenced to six weeks’ imprisonment. She had twice been -in prison before; she had not intended to risk arrest as she was in a -very delicate state of health, having suffered considerably from her -previous imprisonments. She was now in hospital with acute neuritis and -a most irritating rash. She had many children at home and was anxious -about them, not having been able to make adequate arrangements for them -owing to her sudden and unexpected imprisonment. When I looked into her -suffering face and heard from our whispered conversation that this was -her third imprisonment I felt overcome. I envied her courage, but felt -myself quite incapable of following her example. - -Flowers were provided by the prison authorities, both in our ward and -the one below; sometimes, too, our friends sent them to us. We were not -allowed to know from whom they came, and they could not be destined -for any particular prisoner, but flowers are expert ambassadors, and -their messages of good-will from our friends were generally understood. -They had to be taken out of the ward at night and returned to the -ward in the morning; they had to be refreshed, the water changed and -dead leaves picked off. I usurped this office. I feel ashamed, on -looking back, to remember with what selfish greed I took it over, -never giving the others a choice or chance in the matter. The joy of -handling the flowers seemed like food and rest rolled into one. All -the patients rejoiced in them. When a new lot were sent in they were -handed round for each prisoner to see them and smell them at close -quarters. Their appearance in prison used to remind me of Filippino -Lippi’s Florentine picture of the Virgin appearing through the sky with -a trail of coloured angels behind her to St. Bernard in his ascetic and -joyless surroundings. They brought moments of rapture which revitalised -one’s spirit and counteracted many of the stunning effects of prison -existence. Some people whom I told of this have resented the fact -that prisoners should be given the joy of flowers, but unless it be -recognised as part of the punitive system to impose physical illness, I -think the prison hospital authorities are to be congratulated on their -wisdom in this respect; the flowers did more than the drug-basket to -heal our complaints. - -One of the reasons I took on as many housemaiding jobs as I could -was that it enabled me to be let out of the ward for the emptying of -slops, and this afforded a good opportunity for seeing and occasionally -communicating with ordinary prisoners. They seemed to come and go -pretty quickly from our floor of the hospital, and I seldom saw any -of them more than twice or three times. The prisoner’s dress has a -wonderfully disguising and unifying power, and it was a never-ending -interest to try quickly to diagnose the type of prisoner, so as to -make the most of any possible communication by whispers. Washing up -was done in the bath-room cell and the door left open. Sometimes the -handling of plates would prove that such work was unaccustomed and -uncongenial, others were skilled but sullen and grudging in their -service, some again would be keen and willing and showed the pathetic -eagerness of a newcomer to inquire as to rules, to be friendly with her -fellow-prisoners, to court the approval or advice of the wardresses. -But such liveliness was not the fashion and was always repressed. One -could watch the light and spirit of these human beings wane, as a -lamp wanes for want of oil. Sometimes many days would go by without -opportunity for the smallest communication with ordinary prisoners, -then again there would be occasions of unexpected good luck. Once when -emptying a basin at the sink a little woman, newcomer, who was dusting -the top of the walls and fittings with a long-handled broom, came close -up behind me. In prison one seems to develop eyes at the back of one’s -head and that kind of cunning which is engendered in human beings and -animals who are much restricted. I realised that no official eye for -the moment was upon us. The splashing of the tap covered the sound of -our low voices; without looking round, without changing expression -or gesture so as not to arouse suspicion, the following conversation -took place. _Self_: “The dust collects quickly here, doesn’t it?” -_Prisoner_: “Yes, how long have you got?” (The invariable first -question for all prisoners.) _Self_: “A month.” _Prisoner_: “I’m on -remand for a week.” _Self_: “What is it for?” _Prisoner_: “Attempted -suicide.” _Self_: “Poor you. Why did you do that?” _Prisoner_: “Well, -I had a pot of trouble and I thought it was the quickest way out.” -_Self_: “I remember feeling like that too, once, but I don’t now.” -_Prisoner_: “And nor do I now, life’s sweet while it lasts, isn’t it?” -This with a beaming smile. We had meanwhile exchanged furtive glances -at each other. She had a round, rose-like face, with a look of abundant -health and kindliness. Apparently, the “pot of trouble” had been of no -long duration. _Self_: “It seems odd to send people here for suicide?” -_Prisoner_ (eagerly): “Yes, it does indeed. It seems a shame.” Then, -with some hesitation, “What are you in for?” _Self_: “Suffragette.” -She looked at me wonderingly, as if she supposed this to be the -technical term for some form of vice unknown to her, though her -sympathy and respect were not withdrawn. We were, however, interrupted -at this point and I was summoned to return with my much scrubbed basin -to the ward. I never saw the little rose-like face again. - -Beside the sink there was a tiny sash window about the level of my -head. When this was open I could catch sight of the yard where remand -prisoners exercised. I was surprised to see that many of them wore -prison dress. This meant either that they had been made to change -their clothes, or that remand and convicted prisoners were exercising -together. Seeing a great number of prisoners in a group was a most -depressing sight. They were packed quite close, touching each other as -they went round the narrow asphalt path in single file. They nearly -all of them looked ill. Their faces wore an expression of extreme -dejection; the lifeless, listless way they walked, enhanced the look of -entire detachment of one from the other; in spite of being so closely -herded, each seemed in a world of her own individual sorrow. Anxiety, -suffering, bitterness, and a harrowing tale of want or degradation was -told by the clothes of those not in prison dress. The procession was -more heartrending than anything my imagination could have conceived; -it took away my breath to look at them. Why are they there? What has -driven these poor wrecks into this harbour? What is being done for -them here to give them courage, self-reliance, hope, belief in better -possibilities for themselves and their children, opportunity to mend -their own lives, better conditions of work, fairer payment, and above -all a more honourable recognition of their services as women, of -their needs, and of their rights; the vitality to fight for their own -welfare against unjust handicaps, prejudiced ignorance of their wants -and tyrannous repression of their attempts to cry out for wider labour -markets? - -We of the remand hospital No. 2 most often exercised in this same yard -in the afternoon. We were only about six in number, sometimes only -two or three, but, since seeing the procession of the morning, their -personalities seemed to haunt the yard. I thought of them as beads of -a necklace, detached, helpless and useless, and wondered how long it -would be before they were threaded together by means of the women’s -movement into a great organised band, self-expressive yet co-ordinated, -and ruled by the bond of mutual service. The test of a chain’s strength -is in its weakest link. Where is our chain weakest? Not in the wretched -victims who daily paced this yard, not in the debtor, the drunkard, the -thief, the hooligan, the prostitute, the child murderer. These miseries -were mostly the direct outcome of harmful and unjust laws. Amongst -the few that remain of spontaneously criminal type, their number is -insignificant, their influence negligible; they act as cautions rather -than instigators, although they call for all the remedial forces which -the State or individuals can devote to them. They themselves are -diseased exceptions, but they belong to groups of women, home workers, -wage earners, skilled craftswomen, who have kept alight the old -traditions of serviceableness, utility, and the powers of women. They -have already made many efforts to unite and to preserve their nobility -of independence. They, moreover, are quick to respond and eager to -serve the modern women’s movement. No, the weakest link in the chain of -womanhood is the woman of the leisured class. Isolated and detached, -she has but little sense of kinship with other women. For her there is -no bond of labour, no ties of mutual service; her whole life is spent -in the preservation of appearances, and she seems hardly ever to probe -down to the bone of realities. Child-having remains her glory, the one -bit of full-livedness in an otherwise most arid desert. This is the one -basis on which she feels herself united to other women, and the wrongs -and sufferings of child-bearers stand out as the exception on which you -can sometimes get her to move on behalf of other women. Until these -women can be educated as to the lives of the bulk of women, brought -up against the laws with regard to them that now disgrace the statute -book, made to feel the horror of custom which still undermines their -own existence, and to burst through the gilded bars which hold their -own lives in bondage, they act upon the social organism in a way that -is almost wholly harmful. Only when their eyes have been opened will -their “influence” and “example” bear out a reasonable meaning of those -words and their position of privilege make them worthy to lead. - -As I had watched the prisoners I saw before me a counter-procession -of women of this leisured class, herded as I have so often seen them -at ball-rooms and parties, enduring the labours, the penalties, -of futile, superficial, sordidly useless lives, quarrelling in -their marriage market, revelling in their petty triumphs, concerned -continually with money, yielding all opinion to social exigencies, -grovelling to those they consider above them, despising and crushing -those they think beneath them, pretending to be lovers of art and -intellect, but concerned at heart only with the appearance of being -so. Subservient to a superficial morality, tested not by the question, -“What has been done?” but “What is the general opinion about what has -been done?” And immediately the procession of Holloway yard seemed -human, dignified, almost enviable by the side of that other. It is -these leisured women the women’s movement has hitherto cast aside. -They are the dross, the dead fruit. All others have responded in some -way, however feeble their power of service, when they have heard the -call; but these have not. As I thought of them my pity moved from the -procession in Holloway to these other women. Success is impossible for -a social system that takes no heed to its outcasts, the pathological -victims of national existence are the symptoms which can lead us to -diagnose its fundamental flaws. Whether or not the women alive to-day -in the ruling class can be cured is of comparatively little importance, -but clearly the causes which have brought them forth must be altered -at the root. The conditions which go to produce a ruling caste are -shifting their ground throughout the world. Such things are moulded -by involuntary forces; they cannot, except in the immediate future, -be foreshadowed or decreed. But it is now obvious that, whatever this -basis, women must have a fair and honourable share in it. Rulers -of the best are not reared by bondwomen. The bi-sexual powers must -be released at all costs in those sections of the community which, -whether by intellect, by birth, or by wealth, have the guiding reins of -national life in their hands. The question of what that basis shall be -is an altogether separate matter. Who can turn the force of our women’s -movement in that direction, who can be a missionary to preach war in -their peace-bedeadened country? The answer that came to me in Holloway, -and ever since it has seemed to me the only answer, was this--the -example of working class organisations, and above all, of those few -splendid women who have given their lives to lead this movement. Where -doctrine, precept and example all fail to penetrate, the spirit of -sacrifice, which wakes an echo in all human hearts, will find a way. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -“A TRACK TO THE WATER’S EDGE” - - -On March 2, as a result of my pleading to be dismissed from the -hospital, I was put to sleep in a separate cell along the passage of -our ward. This cell had a floor of unpolished wooden boards, contained -a fixed iron bedstead, movable washing stand furnished with tin -utensils, a wooden chair, a square plank fixed to the wall near the -door as a table, and a corner shelf under the window to hold Bible, -prayer and hymn book, prayer card, list of rules, salt cellar, toilet -paper, slate and slate pencil. A small basket to contain my clothes was -kept under the bed. A bell near the door communicated with the outer -passage. The cell was lit by a thickly barred window of small panes of -glass, having in the centre a box-like apparatus, with a lid, opened -by a rope pulley to let in the air without enabling one to see out, as -in church windows. There was a grating ventilator below the window. In -the wall of the cell giving on to the passage was a glazed aperture, -through which the cell was lighted at night from a gas-jet, as in the -“reception” cell. Besides the heavily metalled door, these hospital -cells had iron gates, so that the door could be left open when patients -had to be watched. At eight o’clock the night wardress went her rounds, -lifting the spy hole and shouting through the door “All right?” to -which the prisoners have to answer “Yes.” If they are asleep, the -question is repeated until they wake and answer it. The gas was then -lowered to a light by which it would have been difficult to read, but -not extinguished. It was explained to me afterwards, when I pleaded for -darkness, that I was an “observation” case on account of my “serious -heart disease.” The luxury of privacy after five nights and days of -unrelieved publicity seemed very great, and as soon as this last -“inspection” was over my imagination conjured up into my presence every -friend I have ever had, including my dog who died twenty years ago. I -held intercourse with them, “dreamed true,” and had a happy time. I -then rolled round and gave myself up to perfect sleep. - -After, as it seemed, a very short night, I woke with a start and a -feeling of great horror. I supposed I had had a bad dream, but quickly -realised that the nightmare was on the waking side of my existence. -I sat up in bed. There was a sound of footsteps which I could not at -first locate or interpret. They came nearer, clear foot-falls and a -shuffling sound in between, as if some of the feet were reluctant and -were being dragged along. Then a voice in great distress, half shriek, -half groan, that came in broken snatches. The sounds came rapidly -nearer and grew more definite. The massive walls of the building -seemed to become thin and the doors flimsy with the penetrating -noise. I expected that any moment these night-wanderers might enter -my cell, I supposed it was a case of delirium tremens or madness. The -footsteps stopped. A violent scuffle was apparently taking place. -Then followed a jangle of keys, the banging of a gate, more turning -of keys, and I realised that a frenzied woman had been shut into the -cell below mine. She immediately seized hold of the gate and shook it -so that it rattled on its hinges, suggesting almost more than human -strength. The wolf-like barking sounds of her voice turned into a -human yell as she screamed out, “Nurse! Nurse! Let me out.” It seemed -a most reasonable remark. The words broke the spell of horror and woke -instead my intensest sympathy. She was expressing the one desire that -is constantly uppermost in prisoners’ minds, the walls echoed it as -a thought most familiar to them. The gate shivered unceasingly under -her onslaught as she hurled herself against it, and her words came -at intervals, “Nurse! Nurse! Open the gate.” The sounds suggested in -turn madness, fury, despair. I strained to interpret and understand, -but there was no clue. I yearned to console her. Presently footsteps -came outside my door, a rattling of keys and locks, my door was burst -open and a wardress I had not seen before put her head in, saying, “I -thought you might be startled.” Her face was inflexible and revealed -nothing. I threw out questions, “Was it a maternity case?” “Was she -ill?” “Why was she so wild?” but the door was slammed to without any -answer being given. However, even this attention was a relief and -unfroze my blood a little. I wondered if the other prisoners, if the -poor distracted woman herself in the cell below, had been offered as -much consolation. - -I was kept in bed that morning until after the rounds of inspection. -The Governor was very civil. He urged me to give the required assurance -and bind myself over “to be of good behaviour,” that I might leave the -prison. He asked if I had “considered” my mother. I have no doubt he -thought it his duty to talk in this way, and probably he was trying -to be kind as well. At the time, however, his insinuation seemed more -like a blow in the face. The words rushed to my lips: “If you knew -my Mother, if you had seen her only once, you would know that it was -impossible to risk causing her anxiety without immensely considering -it,” but I restrained myself and merely said: “I am not the only woman -here who has a mother.” I remembered that when Mrs. Pankhurst had been -imprisoned she had been punished for exchanging a few words with her -daughter. The Governor then brought out a stethoscope to examine my -heart. This was surprising, as I had not realised that he was a doctor. -He urged tonics, but did not insist. Eventually I consented to take -maltine and a banana after the mid-day meal, as they were distressed -that I was so thin. - -The shrieks and cries from the cell below had grown less towards -morning, but they were renewed at intervals throughout the day. When I -went into the general ward the horror of the night was still hanging -over my companions. A wardress told one of us that the woman had killed -her child and been put into the condemned cell after being sentenced -to be hanged. After my release it was officially stated that the woman -who had been sentenced to death for baby-murder had been perfectly -quiet and that the “condemned cell” was in a part of the prison far -removed from the remand hospital. The shrieks we had heard were those -of a mad woman, under remand for larceny, who had since been removed -to a workhouse infirmary. The distressful cries went on intermittently -for several days, after which they lapsed into groans like those of -the dying. My longing to communicate with her became at moments almost -unendurable. I hoped she would die; she seemed too far gone in distress -for any other remedy. One morning before it was light I thought I heard -the throaty sound of the death rattle from her cell. After that she was -removed, whether dead or alive I could never find out until after my -release. - -I went into the general ward for the greater part of the day. I made -my bed and dusted my cell, but was not allowed to wash the floor or -clean the tin utensils because of my “heart disease.” The quieter -nights enabled me to eat more food, and I think I gained in weight -and became generally restored to quite normal health. It was obvious -that no ordinary prisoner nor Suffragette prisoner would, in my state -of health, have been put in hospital, and that I was being kept there -either to give me a soft time or for some other impenetrable reason. -I told the Senior Medical Officer that unless I were allowed to the -“other side” I should feel obliged to protest by means which he would -probably regret when it was too late. He looked very much alarmed, -but my threat produced no practical result. I then asked leave to -petition the Home Secretary, a right allowed to all prisoners. Blue -official paper, ink and a pen were brought to my cell, only one sheet -of paper being allowed, but it was a large one. I forget the wording -of my letter. I stated that I had been rather severely knocked about -by the police while on a peaceable Deputation to the House of Commons -to petition that, when the accepted conditions for which voting rights -are granted have been fulfilled the vote should follow, in the case -of women as of men, a claim which he, the Home Secretary himself, -and a majority of the Cabinet and House of Commons had recognised as -just. That I therefore was grateful for the privilege of being placed -in hospital during the first few days, where the careful and kindly -treatment of the officials and excellent food had quickly restored -me to my normal health. I told how I had asked permission to join my -companions in the cells, but hitherto had asked in vain. I explained -that the cell routine of floor scrubbing, tin polishing, etc., would be -no exceptional exertion in my case, since I was an amateur scrubber, -having patronised that craft in much the same spirit in which other -unemployed women took up water-colour drawing or hand-embroidery. -I found that my fellow prisoners were kept in the cells when much -more seriously ill than I was, and I was driven reluctantly to the -conclusion that the preferential treatment meted out to me was for no -better reason than that I had influential friends whose criticism, if -my health should suffer in prison, was feared by the authorities. I -resented such favouritism on the part of officials, both as a Liberal -in politics, as a believer in the teachings of Christ, and as a woman, -and if the special treatment of my case continued I should feel bound -on my release to make it known from every platform of our campaign -throughout the country. I found there was a tradition amongst prisoners -that petitions to the Home Secretary were always in vain. As I put -forward a moderate and reasonable request, consistent with the prison -regulations, I hoped it would serve as an instance for proving this -tradition to be false. This letter, perhaps, gave a slightly coloured -version of the hospital _régime_, but I knew that, in spite of their -aims to the contrary, officials are human, and that if I could express -some sort of praise that was fairly justified, my letter would be more -likely to reach the higher dignitaries and be attended to by them. -Perhaps, I thought, the combination of a very reasonable request with -an allowance of judicious flattery might even result in the request -being granted. - -The following day I noticed a peculiar and welcome expression on the -faces of various officials as of a smile hidden behind the mask, -plainly indicating that my letter had been read in Holloway, however -much the valentine might be destined for waste-paper basket furniture -at the Home Office. I piled on my good behaviour and ate as much food -as I could, to conciliate the prison authorities. On the third day -following I received a written answer, a formal statement that my -petition had been received, but that the Home Secretary did not see -his way to granting it. This led to further altercations with the -Governor and doctor. They insisted that the cell _regime_ would be too -severe for me. I replied that unless they allowed me to experience it -for myself I should probably carry away an exaggerated version of the -hardships imposed on my companions. They pleaded that my exceptional -physique and heart disease required “rest.” I answered that prison -was not a “rest cure” and that in the case of my fellow prisoners, -more especially of Miss Lawless and Mrs. Meredith Macdonald, no such -reverend attention had been paid to their physical needs. Every day I -put forward the request and argued the point, always in vain. I felt -that the time had come to carry out my threat. My mind brooded on what -form it should take, but for various reasons it had to be deferred. I -had contracted the cold which was rampant in the ward. The prisoner’s -handkerchief, a duster hanging from the waist of the skirt which did -service for a week, was an inevitable conveyer of infection. This -forbidding form of handkerchief became doubly a trial with a cold in -the head. I used when at exercise to hold it out as I walked, in the -style of a bull-fighting matador, in order to dry it and shake it out, -and I used toilet paper in its stead whenever opportunity offered, but -no efforts could counteract the disgusting overuse and exposure of the -duster. I determined not to press my request to go to the cells while -there was any rational excuse for keeping me in hospital. When my cold -was wearing off I had the misfortune to meet with an accident and cut -myself with some broken crockery. This necessitated bandaging, and -again I put off my threat. The days went by with unvarying monotony. -Although I had known for several weeks of my decision to go on the -Deputation and had full time to prepare for a likely imprisonment, I -was continually remembering some concern of my home life, the wheels of -which would be getting clogged in my absence. At first these thoughts -were very worrying and kept my mind continually on the fret at my -inability to communicate with the outside world, but the realisation -of one’s helplessness gradually subdued these desires. One day, -however, I heard from a more experienced “gaol-bird” that permission -to write a letter was sometimes granted if “on business.” I promptly -determined to try for this privilege, since it had been granted to -other Suffragists. I chose a matter connected with the village in -which I lived, so that the fact of my being “all right,” as the cell -inspectors put it, might be conveyed to my mother. I asked leave to -write to the Rector’s wife about a flower show committee of which -I was secretary. Leave was granted. I was asked to confine myself -exclusively to the “business” for which permission had been given; -the luxury of writing it was nevertheless very great. Later on I was -allowed to write a second letter to a friend on the Stock Exchange who -manages my money affairs. I wanted some money for a prisoner friend -who was to be released before me. Cheque books were, of course, not -available in prison, and although a letter to my banker would probably -have been sufficient, I thought a personal friend would be more likely -to let the news of my continued “all right”-ness filter through to my -mother, although I was not allowed to send a definite message. There -seemed, too, something attractive in addressing a letter direct from -Holloway to the Stock Exchange, as I did not know my friend’s private -address. This letter, of course, required an answer which I was allowed -to receive and keep. The rule for prisoners is that letters addressed -to them by a spontaneous correspondence from outside are forbidden, -but if permission is granted to a prisoner to write a letter which -requires an answer, that answer can be received and kept. This answer -was about the money I had asked for, duly enclosed, and contained also -a casual reference to a remote relative. “I suppose you have heard -that X. has been down with influenza.” Evidently the writer assumed -that I had been carrying on my correspondence as usual. I ungratefully -wished that if I was to be allowed news of the outside world it might -have been an item connected with my more immediate belongings. But the -letter gave me a pleasure difficult to describe, bringing, as it did, a -ventilating whiff of ordinary human, free existence into prison life. I -clung to every particle of it, envelope and all, and generally carried -it about in my clothes for fear it should be destroyed while I was -out of my cell; no love-letter was ever more watchfully guarded by a -girl of sixteen. It, of course, had been opened and read before it was -delivered to me. - -I pleaded that as the cell prisoners were allowed a change of -vegetables, cabbage, onions, haricot beans, succeeding each other -in turn at the midday meal, the hospital patients might be allowed -the same, anyhow the bed patients, to whom the daily cabbage became -extremely distasteful through monotony. The medical officer who took -the inspection rounds that morning was not favourable to petitions of -this kind. He answered gruffly, “If you were given the variety, depend -upon it you’d be petitioning before long to be put back on one kind -only,” and the daily cabbage continued. But one gets used to snubs in -prison and before long I tried again. For three days in succession we -had been given salt butter of a rather rancid kind, instead of fresh -butter as had been supplied before. I kept a small sample of it in a -saucer and showed it to the Senior Medical Officer when he came round. -This man, according to my experience, was uniformly obliging, just as -if he had been an ordinary man and not a prison official. He did not -scoff, but took the saucer in his hands and marched out of the ward -with it, saying: “I think I had better see to this myself.” We were not -given salt butter again. Emboldened by this success when next he came I -put the vegetable question before him. He said nothing, but from that -time forward we were given a change every day. - -One day there was a stir in the atmosphere owing to an unusual event, -the fortnightly visit of the Visiting Magistrates was due. This was -an opportunity for prisoners to air their grievances. Experience had -taught us that, at any rate as regards Suffragettes, prison officials -and Visiting Magistrates were one and the same authority, indeed -prison officials, Prison Commissioners, Home Office, police, and -police Magistrates, all played to the same tune as conducted by the -attitude of the Government, and we knew that there was no tribunal of -an independent character to which we could make appeal. Nevertheless, -as a matter of principle, we left no stone unturned to get injustice -redressed by constitutional means. Among the hospital patients there -were several cases of glaring injustice. The false charge before -mentioned on which Mrs. Duval (Freedom League) had been arrested and -sentenced to six weeks’ imprisonment. Mrs. Pethick Lawrence’s sentence -of two months when other second offenders in the same Deputation -were given only four weeks and some six, and when Mrs. Despard, also -a prominent leader, had been sentenced to only one month (second -imprisonment) and released after one week “on medical grounds,” her -health at the time being excellent. Finally, the disgraceful medical -diagnosis and treatment of Mrs. Macdonald after her accident in the -yard. Mrs. Macdonald and Mrs. Duval were unable to leave their beds to -appear before the Magistrates. Mrs. Macdonald decided not to appeal -on her own behalf. The Magistrates were not medical men and an appeal -against the doctor would have been useless and perhaps would have -aroused fresh prejudice against her. She was allowed to send a written -communication suggesting some excellent reforms on general lines for -prison management. - -That afternoon, when I was locked into my cell, at an unexpected hour -a wardress ushered in a gentleman, apparently an official, whom I had -not seen before. I expected him to order my dress to be opened and -to begin stethoscoping my heart--that was the usual procedure when a -male official appeared. Instead he stood before me and said with some -dignity: “I am Sir Alfred Reynolds.” The name conveyed nothing to me, -so I did not answer, but merely bowed. He went on to ask if I wanted -anything, to say he might be seeing Lord Lytton soon and did I want any -message conveyed to him or to my home. The sense of bewilderment which -prisoners feel when the unusual happens, breaking into the monotonous -routine of their lives without explanation, overcame me. I did not -know with what object the stranger put these questions, the wildest -interpretations rushed through my mind--that the authorities were -seeking some fresh excuse to release me, that my home people had heard -some untrue report and were in a panic, that there was some underlying -purpose connected with my fellow prisoners, to which I had no clue. My -instinct was to be on my guard, and to shield myself against intrusion. -I answered coldly that I was “All right, thank you,” and that I had no -messages to send. That evening I was told that this gentleman was one -of the Visiting Magistrates. After my release I realised that he was a -neighbour in our county of Hertfordshire and knew my brother. It was -very kind of him to visit me in that considerate way and I much regret -that I did not respond to his friendliness at the time. - -Mrs. Lawrence put her case, guarded by a wardress, standing before the -seated board of Magistrates. They had nothing to say in explanation or -defence of her sentence, but offered no redress. - -On Friday, March 12, I had an unexpected and altogether delightful -surprise. In the afternoon I was summoned out of the ward and taken -across the yard. Was I being changed to the other side? A deliriously -joyful thought suggested itself, could it be a visitor? I had already -had my due in this respect, but several visitors were occasionally -allowed to prisoners. Since privileges towards me were the order of the -day it was a possibility. I was shown into the same “solicitor’s” room -as before; this time it was empty. I was left in charge of a wardress -I had not seen before; she was very amiable. I felt quite distraught -with the unusual excitement, and with the torrent of questions that -ramped through my brain. Although I had had no reason to expect -another visitor, I had recently longed for one with accelerated zest -because of the patient with the injured leg. I had grown daily more -exasperated over the attitude of the authorities towards her case, and -felt that the seeming brutality on their part was probably due to an -official inability to realise all that it entailed to this suffering -woman, that if only one could get the facts known outside the prison -a reconsideration might bring about the granting of some of the very -moderate requests she had made with regard to her release, and also -by exposure of her treatment make it unlikely that physically injured -prisoners should be subject to the same hardships in future. She was -a woman of abnormal courage, and in spite of her crippled condition -was planning to go straight home by rail to Marlow on the day of her -release. She did not keep a servant; her three children who had been -cared for by friends were to return with her. It seemed to me she was -unfit for her ordinary life and I was most anxious that she should see -a surgeon before attempting the journey by rail. I urged her, too, -to make some arrangement for being nursed in her own house or to go -for a while to a “home” or hospital. For all these matters it was -imperative that she should see her husband and discuss possible plans -with him. She asked leave of the Governor to write to him. This was -refused unless she obtained a permit from the Home Secretary. It took -three days to write to and obtain an answer from the Home Office. When -the reply came, permission was granted to write to her husband, but no -mention was made as to his visiting her. The prison authorities would -not allow this without a further permit from the Home Office. There -was no time to receive and act upon this before her release. When I -compared such treatment of an urgently needful situation with my own, -the ease with which I obtained leave direct from the prison authorities -to write two letters, one of them of no particular importance, and the -ease with which two of my relatives had been allowed to visit me, I -felt exasperated. The action of the authorities made no pretence at -inflexible, even-handed justice, and the partiality shown was all on -behalf of the prisoner who needed it least. - -After a few minutes, to my surprise and intense delight, my eldest -brother was shown in. He gave me good news of those at home. Before -long I was pouring out to him the facts and my pent-up commentary -concerning Mrs. Macdonald, in spite of frequent protests from the -wardress, who exclaimed from time to time that it was against the rules -to make communications to outsiders about fellow-prisoners or the -prison authorities. This time I was careful not to reprove my loved -visitor for anything, and before our all-too-short interview came to -an end I was able to send a message to my sister to make good my -regrets about her visit. - -The variety of leniency of the different officials, and of the same -officials on different days, gave a certain savour of adventure to the -dreariness of prison life. Here are two instances of the brighter side. -Mrs. Lawrence and I were one afternoon allowed to walk up and down -the length of the ward side by side talking in low voices. She told -me about the early days of the militant movement and supplemented my -book-study of that miraculous fairy tale in which I was now privileged -to take part. As I listened and reproached myself continually with -the thought, “Women had all this to face and I was not helping them,” -there seemed a positive charm in the trials of imprisonment--the -suffering about my home people, the grim sights and sounds of our -surroundings, the rudeness of prison officers, the physical discomforts -of unaccustomed clothing, thunder-stuffed pillows, etc. Now that I -passed the nights in a cell and came into the ward only for meals and -part of the day, I noticed with keener insight how remarkably the -atmosphere of leadership clung round Mrs. Pethick Lawrence. Her clothes -and the disciplined routine were exactly the same in her case as in -ours, she conformed to all the rules and seemed to adapt herself to -the life as if it had been of her choice and not imposed upon her. Yet -the authority, and above all, the wisdom in her personality seemed -to shine out more prominently even than they did in free life when -she was controlling the many departments of the office at Clement’s -Inn for which she was responsible, or of the public movement from a -platform. Everyone came to her for advice, even the prison officers -seemed instinctively to refer matters to her. It was, for once, quite -intelligible why they had separated her from the bulk of the Suffragist -prisoners by putting her in hospital. It was obvious that her control -over them would far outweigh the authority of prison rules and rulers -should she choose to exert it. The reason given, however, was that -she too was suffering from heart disease, but this medical verdict -did not prevent her being sent to the cells, where the full prison -labour of floor washing and tin polishing was exacted of her, as soon -as our shorter sentences had expired and she was left to finish her -unjustifiably longer term in solitude. - -Another unexpected privilege had been carefully planned so that the -joy of it was spread over several days. The Freedom League prisoners -were soon to be released. We schemed a jollification to take place on -the Sunday evening before their departure. The Sabbath day reflected -national customs in prison as outside. The morning was characterised -by clean clothing and an unusual rigidity of behaviour, but towards -the latter half of the afternoon the air of solemnity wore away, some -of the officers had an afternoon off, bringing back with them an -indefinable sense of the outer world, and the evening hours sometimes -produced an atmosphere almost of amiability. Much would depend on -whether a lovable wardress, who often did duty in our ward and had -shown herself invariably friendly towards us, should be “on” or “off.” -The patients, who had increased to nine, were all of them now out of -bed during part of the day. We were to gather round the fire, and to -tell yarns, stories or poems, as if we were in camp in the free world. -A sense of excitement and expectancy pervaded the ward all day. I felt -as children do before a self-schemed escapade into the dominions of -forbidden joys, my delight only slightly marred by the prospect of -having to contribute to the recitations, a performance not at all in -my line. I spent the spare moments of the day trying to remember and -write down on my slate Coventry Patmore’s poem “The Toys.” Parts of it -had constantly floated into my mind while in Holloway from the striking -resemblance between prisoners and children. I treasured more especially -the actual list of toys which the child, a seven times breaker of the -law, when punished and dismissed “with hard words and unkiss’d,” had -put beside his bed:-- - - “A box of counters and a red-vein’d stone, - A piece of glass abraded by the beach, - And six or seven shells, - A bottle with bluebells, - And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art - To comfort his sad heart.” - -When evening came after the supper meal our little plot developed with -unexpected smoothness. The kindly wardress was in charge, activity and -“inspection” in the passage outside subsided altogether and we were -left to our own devices. What chairs there were we set round the fire -and the rest of the company sat on the floor. An unwonted expression -of happiness beamed from the fire-lit faces of these prison-clad -individuals, drawn together from many parts of the country and from -widely-differing walks of life. Each one contributed her share to -our spontaneous entertainment. Even the wardress, completely casting -aside her official manner and addressing herself deferentially to -Mrs. Lawrence, for whom she had a great admiration, told a pathetic -little story with a surprising gift of narration and concentrated -expression. I remember I had dreaded lest one or two of the company -besides myself should not be “up” to an adequate contribution, and -that our little entertainment would be marred by those uncomfortable -moments of both conscious and unconscious failure such as are common -to “social” gatherings, no matter where they take place. However, -everyone played up. There was great variety in the different speakers, -each in turn adding a new element to the programme, each was good of -its kind and there was no need for pity anywhere. My friend with the -injured leg contributed a remarkable political poem of her own making, -but far the most artistic items were given by Mrs. Lawrence. She told -us first an Arab story which she had heard from a Dragoman sitting -round a real camp fire in Egypt. It was full of the detail dear to the -East, which suited the associations of superfluous time in our then -experience. It was intricate and humorous, lifting our minds completely -out of our present surroundings. She was pressed for “more.” She then -repeated Olive Schreiner’s “Three Dreams in a Desert.” I had read -this allegory many years ago when it was first published. I remember -that the painter Watts and my father had been enthusiastic over the -poetical beauty of these “Dreams.” Their lyrical force, the imaginative -woof and warp of their parables and the dignified cadence of their -language had impressed me in my youth so that I read them many times -for sheer emotional joy, but their meaning had evidently not penetrated -to me. Olive Schreiner, more than any one other author, has rightly -interpreted the woman’s movement and symbolised and immortalised it by -her writings. Now after even so short an experience of the movement -as I had known, this “Dream” seemed scarcely an allegory. The words -hit out a bare literal description of the pilgrimage of women. It fell -on our ears more like an A B C railway guide to our journey than a -figurative parable, though its poetic strength was all the greater for -that. The woman wanderer goes forth to seek the Land of Freedom.... -“‘_How am I to get there?’ The old man, Reason, answers, ‘There is -one way and one only. Down the banks of Labour, through the water of -suffering. There is no other._’ ... ‘Is there a track to show where -the best fording is?’ ... ‘_It has to be made_....’ And she threw from -her gladly the mantle of ancient-received opinions she wore, for it -was worn full of holes. And she took the girdle from her waist that -she had treasured so long, and the moths flew out of it in a cloud. -And he said, ‘_Take the shoes of dependence off your feet._’ And she -stood there naked but for one white garment that clung close to her, -the garment of Truth, which she is told to keep. She is given a staff, -Reason, ‘a stick that curled.’ ‘_Take this stick, hold it fast. In that -day when it slips from your hand you are lost. Put it down before you, -where it cannot find a bottom, do not set your foot._’ The woman having -discarded all to which she had formerly clung cries out: ‘For what do -I go to this far land which no one has ever reached? I am alone! I am -utterly alone!’ But soon she hears the sound of feet, ‘a thousand times -ten thousand and thousands of thousands and they beat this way.’ ... -‘_They are the feet of those that shall follow you._’ ... ‘_Have you -seen the locusts how they cross a stream? First one comes down to the -water’s edge, and it is swept away, and then another comes and then -another, and at last with their bodies piled up a bridge is built and -the rest pass over._’ ... And of those that come first some are swept -away, and are heard of no more; their bodies do not even build the -bridge? ... ‘_What of that? They make a track to the water’s edge._’” -And in the last dream she sees in that land of Freedom where Love is no -longer a child but has grown to a man. “On the hills walked brave women -and brave men, hand in hand. And they looked into each other’s eyes, -and they were not afraid.” - -We dispersed and went back to our hard beds, to the thought of our -homes, to the depressing surroundings of fellow prisoners, to the -groans and cries of agonised women--content. As I laid my head on the -rattling pillow I surrendered my normal attitude towards literature, -and thought “There is some point, some purpose in it after all.” - -Since I had left the general ward there were more opportunities for -the officers to show kindness without being detected in “favouritism,” -and I had come to be on very good terms with several of them. Even the -ward superintendent, who made a special hobby of outward severity, had -relaxed on several occasions. For instance, she stood in the doorway -one morning watching me make my bed. She remarked, with the same -outward air of contempt that was habitual to her, but with a kindly -look in her eyes: “You’re not much used to that, I expect?” I answered: -“Do you think I do it so badly?” She smiled and seemed distressed -that I had interpreted her that way. Her anxiety that I should put -on flesh while under her charge made her almost motherly at times. I -accounted for my small appetite by explaining that I did not spend -myself in prison life. “Don’t know about spending yourself, but how -about your sensitiveness? Doesn’t that ‘spend’ you?” This taunt was -because when she renewed the plasters on my cut, which she did very -skilfully, I winced a good deal. The sticky plaster adhered closely -and the process of removing it generally made me feel faint. I didn’t -know till she said this that she had even noticed it, but her contempt -was softened by a kind smile. I had determined to begin my strike in -real earnest the following week if I failed by reasonable pleadings -to get sent to the cells. I was anxious that the responsibility of -my bad behaviour should not fall on her, and I wished to make very -clear that I had no malicious intentions towards her, or anyone else, -beyond giving proof to the doctors that I should be better the “other -side.” She was extremely busy and her visits to me never lasted more -than a few seconds. I took the first opportunity to say unconcernedly -and not looking at her, but with the hope of arousing her curiosity -sufficiently for her consent: “If you should have a spare minute -before Sunday, come in to me when I am in my cell, I want to ask you -something.” She looked surprised, but said nothing and avoided me for -the rest of the day. The following afternoon she looked in hurriedly, -saying in her most official voice: “What is it you want?” I resented -the scolding tone and answered without humility, as one would to a -fellow-being outside, “Come near to me, I want to speak to you, but -only if you can spare the time.” I was lying on my bed, a privilege -I was allowed in the separate cell. She came in, pushed the door to, -stood close to my bed-side and said again gruffly, “What is it?” I -reached out my hand to take hers, but meeting with no response I drew -it in again. I did not want to get angry with the rebuffs of her -officialdom, so I kept my eyes down as I said: “I like you because -you have always treated me the same as the others, yet you have never -really been unkind to me. I want to ask you something now, because -by Sunday either I shall have had leave to go to the other side or I -shall have begun my strike in real earnest and you will be getting more -and more angry with me.” She stooped down and said in a low voice of -extreme tenderness as if I had been a child: “Why, I have never been -angry with you yet.” I looked up into her eyes. They were lit with -kindliness and her whole face beamed on me with genial goodwill. It -was a surprising change. The personality was the same, but the mask -was off and I realised something of the sacrifice it must be to this -woman continually to conceal her good nature under so forbidding a -manner. I felt more than ever how wasteful and unreasonable is a -system which represses the natural powers of good influence in such -a woman and exacts of her, in their stead, an attitude towards the -prisoners of so much less worth. Her kindness made my determination -to carry out my strike at all costs a much harder job than any amount -of her official hardness and reproof would have done. If it had been -for any less object than a matter of principle I could not have done -it. “No,” I answered, “but I haven’t yet begun my strike seriously.” I -added: “I don’t wish to discuss that now. I want you to tell me when -you could come and see us after I am out. Mother will wish to thank -you for being kind to me, and to hear about my wicked ways from you. -You must come down to us in the country. We are on this line and quite -near London.” Her face grew serious again, but remained without the -official mask. She shook her head. “That’s impossible,” she said with -decision, “it would be against the rules.” “There are no prison rules -for me once I am free again, and you surely have some holidays when -you can do as you like.” “No, that would be quite against the rules.” -I pleaded afresh and with determination. She then tried another tack, -said that she had friends of her own to visit in the little time at -her disposal. I answered she must bring one of these with her and they -would spend the day together with us. But she would have none of it. I -said she, of course, felt obliged to rub in the rules and regulations -while I was prisoner under her charge and that I respected her for -that. It was obvious, however, that such rules would have nothing to -do with me once I was free again, that I should write to her after my -release, as an ordinary outsider, and make fresh suggestions. I had in -mind several instances in which prisoners and warders had continued -friendly after release. I asked her to give me her home address or, at -least, to tell me her Christian name, for, as several of her sisters -were also prison officers in Holloway, I did not want my letter to go -to them. She, however, would not tell me any of these things. I asked -why it would be against the rules. She answered, “We are not allowed -to hold communication with ex-prisoners,” and vouchsafed no further -explanation. I said I thought we Suffragettes might be looked upon -as different from the ordinary ex-prisoners. She remained adamant. I -felt fresh enmity for the system which continually admitted variation -from its rules on the side of less kindness or for reasons of snobbish -privilege, but which showed itself rigid and unelastic when it was a -case of reasonable, unharmful good-will. But, of course, I immensely -respected this woman’s loyalty to the system she served and her -punctilious adherence to its rules. She had, nevertheless, let go her -own voice and her own smile just once upon me. They remained among the -joy experiences of Holloway. I wondered if she had ever shown them to -the poor woman who screamed and groaned in the cell below mine, or to -the yellow-faced patient in the lower ward. - -I began my strike gently; I knocked off all diet extras, such as the -maltine and its accompanying banana or the pudding at the mid-day -meal, and kept to the food which would be mine the other side, viz., -_Breakfast_: Brown bread, butter, milk. _Mid-day_: Brown bread, -potatoes, one vegetable. _Supper_: Brown bread, butter, milk. Both -doctors and wardresses talked of the plank bed as one of the hardships -likely to be too much for me in the cells, so I took one of the two -mattresses from my bed and slept with it on the floor. I clambered up -on the furniture and cleaned the windows of my cell to show I could do -some extra housemaiding without harm. The first night of my floor-bed I -was left undisturbed. The second night, at the time of the “All right?” -rounds, the hospital superintendent came in. To my surprise she was -not angry, did not scold. She asked quite gently and interestedly why -I was lying on the floor. “Because the doctors suggest that I would -get ill or die if I laid on a wooden bed instead of an iron one, so I -am just showing that I can manage it all right; I am very comfortable, -thanks.” But she didn’t go away. The cell, of course, was small, the -fixed bedstead down the centre of it taking up most of the floor-room, -so I had laid the mattress cross-ways under the bed, my head sticking -out on one side, my feet on the other. The wardress suggested that if I -woke suddenly in the night I might hit and hurt myself against the bed. -I assured her that sleep in Holloway was not of a kind heavy enough to -wake from it unconsciously. It was true I had enjoyed such a sleep one -night, the first in my private cell, but the ghastly sounds of human -desperation and suffering by which it had been broken had driven away -sound sleep for the remainder of my imprisonment. At last she went -away. The following night she again came and argued about the bed. She -said she would worry lest harm should happen while she was responsible -for me and it would drive away her own rest. I respected her for at -last using a sensible form of argument, but for the moment I did not -relent. When she had gone, however, I managed by judicious shifting of -the movable furniture to find room for the mattress along the wall with -my head behind the door. I rang my bell, the night wardress appeared. -Peremptory fashion, I sent her with an invitation to the superintendent -to come again if she had not yet gone to bed. The wardress positively -laughed at my effrontery, but evidently delivered my message, for in -a few minutes my friend the superintendent returned. She tried to -look severe, but a broad grin enveloped her face when she saw my new -contrivance. “However much I jump about now, I can’t hurt myself. Will -you be able to sleep all right?” I asked. She said she would try, and -left me. - -My continued appeals to the authorities to treat me as they did my -fellow-prisoners and not keep me in hospital now that I was in normal -health, having proved unavailing, I entered upon the last phase of -my strike. I had decided to write the words “Votes for Women” on my -body, scratching it in my skin with a needle, beginning over the -heart and ending it on my face. I proposed to show the first half of -the inscription to the doctors, telling them that as I knew how much -appearances were respected by officials, I thought it well to warn them -that the last letter and a full stop would come upon my cheek, and be -still quite fresh and visible on the day of my release. My difficulty -was to find suitable tools. My skin proved much tougher than I had -expected and the small needle supplied to me for sewing purposes was -quite inadequate. I procured another and stronger one for darning my -stockings, but neither of them produced the required result. I thought -of a hairpin but had only three left of these precious articles and -could not make up my mind to spare one. I had the good luck, however, -while exercising, to find one, the black enamel of which was already -partially worn off. I cleaned and polished it with a stone under my -cloak as I walked the round. The next morning before breakfast I set -to work in real earnest and, using each of these implements in turn, -I succeeded in producing a very fine V just over my heart. This was -the work of fully twenty minutes, and in my zeal I made a deeper -impression than I had intended. The scratch bled to a certain extent. -I had no wish for a blood-poisoning sequel, and, fearing the contact -with the coarse prison clothes, when the wardress came to fetch me -for breakfast I asked her for a small piece of lint and plaster. On a -previous occasion I had been allowed these without further inquiry, -when the frosty weather, cold water, and lack of gloves had produced -a sore on my hand. But this time the superintendent herself appeared -and refused to produce the dressing without hearing for what purpose -it was required. I was anxious to proceed further with my inscription -before letting the authorities know of it, fearing that it was not -yet sufficient to be imposing and that all tools might be taken from -me. However, thanks to our previous conversations, my friend was -suspicious. She ordered me to show the scratch. She looked very much -startled on seeing it and asked how it had happened. I explained. She -at first did not know how to take it, but evidently did not think it a -laughing matter, to my great relief, for I hoped this meant the misdeed -was grave enough to suggest to the authorities that I was becoming an -awkward customer in hospital. She was restrained in manner, but looked -rather angry as she solemnly applied a large piece of lint and many -plasterings which, to my delight, gave the scratch a quite imposing -look, as if half my chest had been hacked open. So that no blame should -fall on her, I gave her all the information for which she asked and -the incriminating tools were gathered together as if they had been -witnesses in a detective case. After breakfast I was summoned into -the presence of the Governor and given a scolding, but no sentence of -punishment was passed and I remained in doubt as to whether my evil -deed had been sufficiently impressive. Later on I was taken down to the -Senior Medical Officer. Scolding was not in his line and the official -requirements of the occasion were evidently effortful to him, but his -laborious sermon of reproofs was all the more punitive on that account. -As he had invariably been kind to me and civil to all other prisoners, -I was sorry to have to vex him. I reminded him of the warning I had -previously given and how often I had patiently renewed my request in -a reasonable way before having recourse to these stronger measures. -Of course he had to pretend that he saw not the remotest connection -between his refusal to let me leave hospital and my “outrageous” -conduct of the morning. He and the ward superintendent, who ushered -me into his presence and exposed the scratched “V” for his inspection, -were evidently much put out. I felt all a craftsman’s satisfaction -in my job. The V was very clearly and evenly printed in spite of the -varying material of its background, a rib bone forming an awkward bump. -As I pointed out to the doctor, it had been placed exactly over the -heart, and visibly recorded the pulsation of that organ as clearly -as a watch hand, so that he no longer need be put to the trouble of -the stethoscope. I also explained how useful the mark would be at the -inquest, to which he had alluded, when they wanted quickly to extract -the heart in proof that its “serious disease” was responsible for -my demise and not the prison regimen. But he was not in a mood for -chaff and became more and more distraught as to how to deal with the -situation. At last he hit on a brilliant idea and said, “If you go on -like this we shall have to dismiss you from the prison altogether.” -I could have congratulated him with both hands for this really -understanding remark. It was obvious that such a sentence wouldn’t at -all meet with my aims, and would secure my return to good behaviour if -anything could. He had effectively checkmated me, at any rate for the -moment. I promptly capitulated and capped this suggestion by saying: -“I think I had better be sent back to the general ward; I seem to -give a lot of extra trouble in the separate cell.” The superintendent -wardress exclaimed with gusto, “Yes, you do,” and the doctor jumped at -the suggestion. As there were now only ten days before our release I -had decided to push through my efforts to get to the cells regardless -of all else, but I was exceedingly anxious about the patient with the -injured leg. Her release was due, with other members of the Freedom -League, the next day (Wednesday, March 17). I had a feeling that I -could to a certain degree watch over her welfare and was to this extent -glad of the opportunity to return to the hospital. While waiting for -the hospital gate to be unlocked a small gang of ordinary prisoners -had for some reason or another congregated in the passage and blocked -the way. My friend, the superintendent, took the opportunity to give -me a severe scolding in their presence. Now that the extent of my -criminality had been duly notified and received, as it were, official -recognition, her pent up indignation let fly and she gave me a regular -dressing down. She did not, of course, allude to the nature of my -crime; this was left to the imagination of the onlookers, but, as -on all other occasions of the kind that I can recall, the sympathy -of prisoners turns automatically to a fellow-prisoner, not to the -officials. Intercourse by means of speech being forbidden, the language -of the eyes becomes perfected. Inquiry, interest, fellow-feeling, -loyalty, encouragement, sympathy of the best, all these emotions are -expressed in prisoners’ eyes in a way that outbids the meaning of words -and the intonations of the voice. I respected this superintendent as -before, because of the impartiality with which she treated me, but this -example of public reproof before other prisoners was typical of the way -this sort of prison discipline defeats its own ends. - -Mrs. Macdonald was still suffering acutely. She had been taken out -of the ward for the injury to be photographed by X-rays. She was -carried up and down the stairs, as before, in a chair with no rest -for the feet. She had been told that the photographs had not been -distinct and left them “none the wiser,” but “Depend upon it,” said -the doctor, “you had better keep moving about as much as you can.” The -prison authorities recognised that she was unfit to travel by rail. -As she had no home in London and could not afford to rent rooms, they -proposed sending her to a hospital. For various reasons, the thought -of an ordinary public hospital was extremely repellent to her. The -prison officials now discussed the matter with her and seemed to show a -certain amount of interest and even kindness towards her. - -My wound being the nominal ground on which I had been returned to -hospital, it had to be treated with official respect. The ward -superintendent told me she would come and inspect it the last thing -before she went to bed herself. I looked forward to this opportunity of -pacifying her displeasure with me, but when she came she was already -in her most benignant mood. My chief concern was to inquire her view -as to my chances of ever being sent to the other side. “They’ll never -send you out of hospital, nothing you can do will make any difference, -so what’s the use of going on trying?” In some mysterious way this -despairing speech of hers put new mettle into me, and I determined I -would renew my attempts. To reassure her with regard to my villainous -intentions I told her that the doctor had hit on a really effective -deterrent by threatening to turn me out of prison. “That’s what you -deserve,” she said, severely, but with something of a wink. “So you -think,” I retorted. - -The hospital atmosphere soon drew my thoughts away from my strike and -its object. Several of the patients were less restless than when I -had last been amongst them. The night wardress with the hacking cough -had been changed. The sick patients had agreed to make no complaints -for fear they should get her into trouble or perhaps be given a more -disagreeable wardress in her place. But when our numbers had been -increased by a patient who was in fairly vigorous health but for the -most painful neuritis in her arm, she found the continuous disturbance -of her all too precious sleep intolerable and she reported the -wardress’s cough to the doctor. We were then all questioned and had to -admit the fact, whereupon we were given another night wardress. This -one, as had been feared, was more rigid in her ways and interpreted -the absurdly inhuman prison regulations literally. For instance, one -night a patient who was quite incapable of moving out of bed had been -given medicine which disturbed her during the night. The wardress -at first refused to wait upon her, but after reluctantly consenting -to do this, she then refused to empty the slops. A fellow-prisoner -volunteered to do this, but was not allowed. At last, after putting -the patient to much distress, the wardress did the work. On hearing of -this the next morning I was indignant and reported the matter to the -ward superintendent. She answered, “The officer was quite within her -rights. She is not a nurse and it is no part of her duty to wait on the -patients. She was quite right, too, not to allow the other patients to -do it.” I expostulated as to the brutality of putting a patient who -was really ill to such distress and on the unwholesomeness of having -slops in the ward all night. “The only thing that can be done in such a -case,” she replied, “would be to ring the night bell for me.” As this -woman was on her feet for sixteen hours, from six in the morning to ten -at night, the patients would be most reluctant to disturb her, apart -from the fact that they would never dream of this being the right thing -to do unless they had been specially informed of the regulation. - -I found that my poor friend of the injured leg was suffering more than -ever. I did my best to ease her pain by rubbing and trying to lift -the cruel pressure from the disturbed bones. The wardress did not -interfere with me as I had rather expected she would, but the next -morning she said, “I must report you for being out of bed half the -night.” When the doctor came on his rounds he had, I suppose, received -the “report,” for he shook his head at me reprovingly but with a kind -look as if he at least understood the motive of my most recent crime. -I felt very despondent all day. The members of the Freedom League were -released that morning, all except Mrs. Duval, who had to serve a longer -sentence, and Mrs. Macdonald, as the authorities had not yet decided -what was to happen to her on release. - -In the afternoon the sun shone brightly and the air was full of that -indefinable sense of spring. The “spring-running” of the jungle seemed -to penetrate even through prison walls and into the minds of prison -officials. Whether because of this or for some less good cause we were -accorded exceptional benefits. Hospital patients who had not been out -before were allowed to come to exercise and we were told to walk in -couples, arm-in-arm, the healthier patients supporting the others. -Amazing privilege! It seemed like a bit of heaven. We, of course, -discarded the “silence” rule at the same time. We were exercised in -a larger space, not one of the narrowly-enclosed exercise yards. The -prison officials passed by--Governor, Matron, doctors--but they made no -comment at the unusual sight, seemed, on the contrary, quite pleased as -we grinned our pleasure boldly into their faces. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -FROM THE CELLS - - -The following morning, Thursday, March 18, I was again summoned before -the Governor. He looked as if he had an important announcement to -make to me. “Do you still wish to leave the hospital?” he asked. I -was afraid this might mean my dismissal. “Do you mean going to the -other side?” I said. He answered “Yes.” “Rather!” I exclaimed, and -could hardly contain myself for surprise and delight. He proceeded to -explain: “The weather having changed, the medical officer gives his -consent to your being moved to the cells.” I should not be allowed to -scrub my floor nor do any of the routine “labour,” but if my health and -behaviour (!) remained good, I might be moved next day. - -The weather, of course, had changed many times since we had been in -Holloway, varieties of cold or mild, damp or dry succeeding each other -day by day, after the familiar fashion of our national climate in -February and March. But I was too well content to be sarcastic over the -reasons given for the official surrender to my request. I simply said -“Thank you very much indeed.” I had already announced this decision -to several of the ward patients, when the superintendent came on her -rounds and I rushed up to her unceremoniously with, “Have you heard -my good news?” Her official mood was on and she ordered me off with a -“Hush! not now.” I gathered from various questions put to me by the -Governor that the authorities hoped I had not told of my carving-strike -to the other patients. It would never do, of course, to conciliate the -wishes of a striker! But I was not able to comfort them on this score, -and my triumph was public as well as complete. - -Later in the morning the superintendent took me before the Senior -Medical Officer. With him it was a real temptation to say, “If now, -why not before?” to point out how effective had been the behaviour -which two days previously he had professed to find so incomprehensible, -also to draw the analogy between this little prison episode and the -women’s fight for the vote--a reasonable demand, continuously pressed -in a reasonable way and with great patience; result, blank refusal on -the part of responsible powers. Militant action, by means of strike -and protest; result, anger, condemnation, and the request is granted. -The vote is not yet granted to women, but who now doubts that “they’ll -get it” before long; but I restrained myself and trusted that the -lesson would sink home unassisted. The doctor pointed to a chair by the -side of his desk for me to sit while he sounded me. In my excitement -I forgot all prison decorum and shook him cordially by the hand. He -and the ward superintendent seemed nearly as pleased as I was myself. -I felt how differently the prison system would work and with what -different results if the officials were more often allowed to please -themselves by pleasing their prisoners. - -That afternoon Mrs. Macdonald was released and sent, by arrangement -with the Prison Commissioners, to a private hospital. The ward -superintendent accompanied her, but on the return of this officer no -word escaped her as to how the patient had stood the transit, nor as -to the result of the further radiograph which had been taken the day -before. As soon as I was released, I heard that her leg was broken -and had been from the first. A committee was formed for her care and -her redress. The Home Secretary, Mr. Gladstone, was sure that the leg -had been broken before and refused to read our statement. It was not -till 1910, when Mr. Winston Churchill was made Home Secretary, that he -read the case and paid her £500 compensation. She was taken to another -hospital and had a serious operation to her leg. Had it been treated at -once, the fractured bone would have been restored to its own length, -but after about eighteen days of her being in prison, when nothing was -done for it, the bone had overlapped and the muscles hardened round -it. This, of course, inevitably shortened the bone. The operation was -successful, but she is lame for life. - -The only item in the cell-life routine to which I looked forward with -considerable misgiving was discarding the hospital slippers and having -to wear the hard shoes continuously all day. I felt quite absurdly -pleased with the reward of my efforts. At the mid-day meal I drank, -or rather ate, the doctor’s health in rice pudding and insisted that -the wardress in charge should do the same. That day there happened to -be on duty one of the outwardly least human of her kind, but my good -spirits were irrepressible, and these being so rarely seen in prison, -they gave me a certain air of authority, I suppose, for her severity -melted and she ate the rice pudding, as ordered, with even the flicker -of a smile. - -The luxury of a bath was allowed once a week, my turn was due that -evening. The superintendent said: “If I let you have it, will you -promise me not to cut yourself about or any nonsense of that kind?” -I answered: “Is it likely now that I’ve achieved all that I’ve been -struggling for?” That evening, when she came to my bed for a last -inspection, I said, “You see, they have given way after all.” “Yes,” -she answered; “I never thought they would, but there, you never can -tell what is happening behind the scenes.” I cordially agreed with -this last sentiment. “That is why,” I answered, “one should never grow -disheartened when things seem to be impossible.” - -The next morning, while dusting the ward, the little 3rd Division -cleaner came up to me and, without looking at me after the manner of -prisoners, said in a low voice, “I shall miss you.” I took her to mean -that my housemaiding had to a certain extent lightened her labours, and -I was filled with pride; I have seldom received praise that gave me -more pleasure. I redoubled my energies and turned over and dusted the -beds that were unoccupied. The superintendent passed and said, “What -are you doing there?” I explained. “Oh!” she answered, “That’s good -of you.” It’s wonderful how luck, good or bad, never comes singly. -Everything seemed to win approval that day. - -In the afternoon I was sewing a new stripe on to Mrs. Duval’s sleeve, a -good conduct badge that had been dealt out to her, as the first month -of her sentence had been served (she was in for six weeks), when a -stranger wardress came into the ward and summoned me to “bring your -things and come with me.” This meant the other side at last! Now that -the long-fought privilege was actually mine I felt self-reproachful at -leaving Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, but she thought I had done right to try -and join the others. No time was allowed for goodbyes. As I retreated -through the gate I waved the hated shoes at my companions, in token -of my good wishes. I was made to change all my clothes. The wardress -was reluctant to allow me to wear my nightdress, as I had done from -the first in the day time. I insisted, fearing that I might catch cold -without it, and I promised the doctor to care for my health in every -way if allowed out of hospital. She relented, but told me I must inform -the matron about it. I was taken over to the new building “D X,” and -shown to a cell on the third floor, No. 10. It was very clean, had no -bars on the window and no gate, and was in every respect much brighter -looking and without so much of the death’s-head element as the hospital -cell I had just left in the older part of the prison. It had a hot pipe -and, to my surprise, was considerably warmer than the hospital cell or -general ward, so that the official excuse about the change of weather -seemed less to the point than ever. After depositing the sheets, -towel, soap, etc., which I had brought with me, I was taken to join -the others, who were sitting at associated labour on the ground floor -passage. The building had a strange appearance, as of an enormous bird -cage. The cells are ranged on either side of a barrack-like hall giving -on to narrow galleries with iron rails. The different storeys are -reached by a small iron stairway in the centre. These and the balconies -are covered over with wire netting for the prevention of suicide, a -precaution in every way most characteristic of the prison system, -a symbol of the suicide of its own success. The wire netting gives -the building an abnormal appearance; newcomers question “Why is it -there?” The explanation fills the mind with horror and revolt. A deeper -investigation into prison life brings to light the fact that nothing is -done to prevent or counteract the desire for suicide in prisoners, the -evil is only met by artificial prevention of its consequences when the -mutilation of all spontaneous wishes, human instincts and reasonable -paths of self-interest have engendered the passionate longing to cease -existing. - -The moment of joining my companions was most exhilarating. They -were sitting on chairs placed in regular rows, knitting stockings -or sewing women’s underclothes and men’s shirts. I was put into a -vacant place about six rows from the front. Patients who had returned -to the cells from hospital had spread the news of my continued but -vain attempts to rejoin the bulk of my fellow-prisoners, so that my -appearance among them caused great surprise. Some of them were almost -unrecognisably changed by the prison dress, others I was distressed -to see looked extremely ill, but, as the news spread amongst them of -my presence, they looked my way in turn and gave me a welcoming smile -that momentarily changed prison into paradise. I quickly understood -that the right we had claimed to talk with one another at associated -labour had been effectively maintained, but for the sake of not getting -the wardresses into trouble we talked only in low voices or whispers -to our immediate neighbours. The greatest eagerness, of course, was -for news of Mrs. Lawrence. She had sent a special message of thanks to -Mrs. Corbett and to Miss Carling, news having reached the hospital that -these two had been particularly active in maintaining the rights and -decencies that had been won by our predecessors through much hardship, -also in their efforts to secure fresh reforms of the same kind. These -were mostly connected with ordinary prison routine and affected -the welfare of all prisoners besides ourselves. They were, amongst -others--the use of an earthenware mug for drinking purposes instead of -a tin; permission to empty slops more frequently; a chair with a back -to it had been substituted for the stool; a better standard of food, -cooking and clothing through complaint whenever these were amiss; the -right to appeal direct to the Governor--previously the applications -to see the Governor had frequently not been delivered, this being, of -course, more especially the case when it was suspected that complaint -would be made about any of the officers; protest whenever prisoners -were unjustly punished for offences they had not committed; the right -to speak to each other at associated labour. - -The prisoners near me were eager to point out these two valiant women -and cordially endorsed the report of their splendid persistency. They -were sitting near the front, and it was several days before I achieved -getting a place near enough to convey to them Mrs. Lawrence’s message. -They were immensely pleased. One of the reforms for which they had -asked most continuously, but always in vain, was for alteration in the -lavatory doors. These, which we nick-named “the cowsheds,” were only -about three feet in depth and left a space of one foot from the ground, -there was no lock or bolt or catch of any kind and they could not be -fastened. As the lavatories occupied a position next door to the sink -and in the very centre of the gallery, there was no sense of privacy -whatever. Both feet and head of the occupant could be seen from the -passage, and in the hurried passing to and fro of prisoners to the sink -to draw water or empty slops the lavatory door was frequently flung -open. The excuse given for this arrangement was that it was in the -interests of cleanliness and because of the tendency amongst prisoners -to commit suicide. If they were invisible or could lock themselves -in, it was stated that besides foul behaviour they would seize the -opportunity to kill themselves. Obviously neither of these precautions -were necessary in the case of Suffragettes, and we pleaded that when -our numbers exceeded sixteen, the number of cells to which a lavatory -was provided, one might be set apart for our use. With the W.S.P.U. -and Freedom League together the Suffragette prisoners during my time -amounted to about forty. We asked that a bolt should be put on the -inside of the door, and a curtain hung from the top of the doorway. -This would have been easy and inexpensive, and the wardress in charge -could, at any time necessary, draw the curtain and open the bolt from -outside the door. It is difficult to see how this arrangement would be -harmful even to the ordinary prisoner. The modern cells are fitted with -electric light, the lamps of which have glass shades. The prisoners -are locked into these cells and pass the night without inspection. If -they intended suicide nothing would be easier than to break the glass -and open a vein with it. The lavatories contain no such easy implements -for suicide. The almost unanimous experience of our prisoners, and -of many ordinary prisoners with whom I have compared notes since my -release, is that prison life disorganises digestion. The unaccustomed -food, the many hours of sitting still, the want of air, the inability -to leave the cell except at stated times, and the great depression of -spirit, are all of them certain to produce digestive disorders. Bread -is the staple food of prisoners. The prison brown bread is excellent -in quality and in nutritive properties to those who can digest it, -but to most moderns, of whatever class or sex, it is an unaccustomed -food. To some people it is too coarse and acts as an irritant, while -producing the opposite effect on others. The white bread of the -hospital, also excellent of its kind, though not so irritating, is also -not easily digested because of the stagnant life and small quantity -of vegetables or butter allowed. The part played by the drug-basket -in prison routine, and the surprise of its attendant if purgatives -were not required, is proof sufficient that prison conditions in this -matter are abnormal. The cells are supplied with tin chambers fitted -with a lid which can be used in an emergency, but the close atmosphere -of the cells makes this extremely undesirable to people trained in any -sense of cleanliness. Every cell has an electric bell for summoning -a wardress, but frequently no notice is taken of such a summons, and -the bells are often out of order and do not work. Many of our Suffrage -prisoners have had their health permanently impaired, some have had to -undergo operations, as a result of the prison life in these respects. -From the writings of ordinary prisoners and from what I have heard from -them direct, digestive disorders seem to be common to most prisoners. -My own comparative immunity I ascribe to the following precautions: -Doing physical exercises twice or three times a day, saving potatoes -from the midday dinner so that I had some vegetable food at every -meal; keeping my allowance of bread until it was stale; the extra milk -and butter allowed to vegetarians; the freedom from drug taking made -possible by these precautions; the privileges extended to me in the -way of occasional permission to leave my cell out of the drill routine -limitations. - -After we had returned to our cells the Matron came to visit me. I -reported the fact that I was wearing my nightgown under my day clothes. -She said I could not be allowed to do this without special permission -from the medical officer. I accordingly put in “an application” to see -him the next day. - -I think there must be something of Asiatic origin in me, for, contrary -to Western customs, I never feel that meals are a suitable time for -conviviality, but, on the contrary, that eating should be in solitude. -I enjoyed the change to the cell routine in this respect. It was good -to have always the same drinking mug, the cleaning of which I had -done myself, and I was glad to be rid of the hospital tablecloth, -for this was changed only once a week, and the over-filled dishes of -fish and vegetables, as well as tea and milk, left their mark upon -it abundantly, so that during the last days of the week it presented -anything but an appetising appearance. In the cells, milk was poured -into my own pint mug, vegetables were served in an unpolished tin which -looked very dirty and sometimes smelt objectionably, but the potatoes -were in their skins and I ate of the vegetables only that part which -did not touch the tin. A tin plate and spoon were provided in the -cells, and a curious piece of tin, oblong in shape, doubled over up one -side to make a rounded surface and corrugated on the other to make an -uneven saw-like edge, was handed in with the meal to serve as knife. -This I used as it was put out again with the empty tins, but I soon -learned that if the plate and spoon were greased with food it was very -difficult to get them clean again, as they can only be washed in cold -water. The pail of water allowed to stand in the cell quickly became -greasy itself, and there was no time, when let out to the tap to draw -water, to wash up these things at the sink. I therefore used some of -the freely supplied brown toilet paper to cover my plate and helped -myself with my fingers instead of the spoon as they were much easier -to wash. We were allowed a small supply of hot water at the same time -that supper, consisting of hot milk and bread, was brought round. It -was rather a trial that under conditions where luxuries were scarce, -two should be supplied together in a way to make the full enjoyment -of them both impossible. I preferred a hot wash to a hot supper and -performed my ablutions first. - -I had hoped that having left hospital I should be allowed to sleep -in the dark, but it was a disappointment to find I was still an -“observation case” because of my “heart disease.” I did not sleep much -and when morning came I felt strangely tired, but supposed it was due -to the unusual excitement of rejoining my companions and of having -at last attained to “the other side.” One of the hospital patients -had kindly given me elaborate instructions as to the mysterious and -dexterous craft of bed-rolling in the cells. As the failure to achieve -this correctly was a frequent cause of reproof and as the instructions -given by wardresses were often inadequate I was very grateful for -this special training. I remember that the patient, Mrs. Manson, of -the Freedom League, was reading George Elliot’s “Mill on the Floss,” -and it was on the cover of this book that she elaborated to me the -furniture of the cell, where each thing should be placed and how the -bedding was to be folded, then rolled into a kind of Swiss-roll coil. -In the cells the mattress is stuffed with some kind of chaff, a not -uncomfortable form of bedding if not stuffed too full. But mine was -a new one, it seemed filled to its utmost capacity, so that it was -as hard as a pincushion to lie upon, and it was only after repeated -efforts, requiring my utmost strength for about fifteen minutes, that -I succeeded at last in curling it up and buttoning it together in the -required fashion. I was sufficiently exhausted after doing this to -necessitate a long pause before I started afresh on the folding of -the sheets and blankets which had to be done with minute exactness. -Much more prolonged physical labours in hospital had never produced -this effect upon me even during the first days when my heart was -in an actively disturbed state. I wondered whether there was some -health-maiming condition in this much-yearned-after “other side” which -had really justified my retention in hospital. I then remembered the -ventilation system of the cells against which Suffragette prisoners -had made such a determined stand. The Governor and doctors had never -once mentioned this lack of air in the cells as among their reasons -for keeping me out of them, but now I became convinced that this was -the cause of my faintness. Beyond a general feeling of what might be -described as extreme slackness I did not notice anything peculiar -until I exerted myself, but then the absolutely stagnant quality of -the atmosphere seemed to overwhelm me. The window had no opening of -any kind, the sixteen small panes of glass in their wooden framework -were hermetically sealed. There were three ventilators in all, but on -placing my hand upon them there was no feeling whatever of a current -of air. The window was not fogged, so proving that the air was not yet -vitiated to that degree, but whatever the scientific diagnosis of the -results of this ventilation, there could be no doubt to an occupant of -the cell that it was difficult to breathe in it after the eleven or -twelve hours of close confinement.[7] - - FOOTNOTE: [7] In the Report of the Commissioners of Prisons for - the year ending March 31, 1911 (Part I.), the Surveyor of Prisons - tells that: “The provision of opening panes and clear glass in cell - windows has been continued ... another two years’ work (if funds are - forthcoming) should complete the prisons.” Two years to wait--and for - want of money from the richest exchequer in the world! But they would - have waited much longer if it had not been for the Suffragettes. - -During the morning, following on my “application,” I was visited by -the medical officer. I put the request, as ordered by the Matron, of -wearing my nightgown in the day time. He turned to the wardress and -said, “What an extraordinary request to put before a doctor. That -has nothing to do with me.” I explained that the leaving off of this -garment would probably affect my health injuriously, but as it was -contrary to prison discipline a doctor’s permit was required. He made -some contemptuous remarks, but, when pressed, reluctantly gave his -consent. This seems a very trifling incident as I record it here, -but I vividly remember how it seemed another link in the chain of -degradation which is forged afresh continuously around every prisoner. -Some exceptional treatment becomes necessary, one is ordered to apply -for it through some particular channel, on application the prisoner is -refused, reproved or laughed at, as if this were a fresh instance of -misdeed or foolishness. In this instance I reminded the doctor that the -authorities were anxious that my health should be good at my release, -and that in making this request I was assisting them, otherwise I -should prefer to go without a privilege which would not be extended -equally to all prisoners under like conditions. I had intended bringing -forward the question of ventilation, but felt that it would be useless -to appeal to this particular official, who had invariably treated all -my requests as unreasonable. On looking back after my release on this -man’s conduct, it has occurred to me that possibly he adopted his -attitude towards me from a righteous indignation at the orders for -specially favourable treatment which were ordered for my case from -headquarters. I have heard from other Suffragette prisoners and also -from ordinary prisoners of his considerate kindness to them on several -occasions. I afterwards told the Chief Medical Officer about the -airlessness of these cells, I think with some effect. - -We were exercised in the morning, not in the afternoon as from the -hospital. It was a moment of great delight to see my companions in the -yard, where I had a better view of them than at associated labour. We -were exercised in sections of about sixteen at a time for an hour, in -the central yard of the prison, as it seemed, a triangular yard flanked -by high walls of the oldest blocks of cells and adjoining the high -central tower, which enables Holloway prison to stand as a landmark -for many miles distant. It can be seen from the Great Northern Railway -on the line between Holloway and Finsbury Park Stations. I never -look at it without recalling the sensations that gripped my soul and -checked my breath when I first set eyes on this inner yard. It seemed -the quintessence of prison, the very heart of it. The length of each -side of the rough, triangular formation is, I should think, about -twenty-four feet. The walls facing south-west and east are very high, -so that a deep shadow lies across the yard at all hours; on the right, -as we entered from D X, is a low walled building used apparently, for -cooking and laundry purposes and facing south. This seems to be a -more modern erection, and from its low, single-storey construction is -responsible for most of the sunlight allowed to enter the enclosure. -The remarkable feature of the yard, which caused the first feeling of -horror that has remained a nightmare in my mind ever since, is the -tier upon tier of cell shutters, they could not be called windows, in -the two high walls giving on to the yard. They are designed to let in -the very minimum of light or air, the shuttered layers of wood are, -moreover, coated with refuse of the pigeons which fly freely about the -yard, and are in every other respect a great delight to prisoners. -The prison from here looks like a great hive of human creeping things -impelled to their joyless labours and unwilling seclusion by some -hidden force, the very reverse of natural, and which has in it no -element of organic life, cohesion, or self-sufficing reason. A hive of -hideous purpose from which flows back day by day into the surrounding -city a stream of evil honey, blackened in the making and poisonous in -result. The high central tower seemed to me a jam pot, indicative of -the foul preserve that seethed within this factory for potting human -souls. - -Sometimes, in momentary reaction from the pent-up feelings of -indignation and revolt, which were chronic with me during my -imprisonments, I could have laughed out loud at the imbecility and -pathos of human fallibility, that civilised (?) educated beings could -continue such processes by way of ridding themselves from the dangers -and active harmfulness of crime. Wardresses stood at different points -of the yard. Whenever in our march round there was a tendency for -the single file to draw closer together, the wardresses would say -nothing, but catch hold of one of us by the arm until the spacing was -again correct. This handling of prisoners instead of appealing to -their ordinary intelligence was typical of the mistaken routine, as in -hospital, imposed upon prison officials. - -Once, to my delight, I recognised among these superintending wardresses -one who had been with us, and exceptionally kind, in hospital. I hoped -that she would manage somehow to give me news of Mrs. Pethick Lawrence -and possibly also of my friend with the injured leg, whose fate I -thought must surely have filtered through to the wardresses. For some -days no opportunity occurred, although this officer smiled at me once -or twice with a friendly recognition that was quite unofficial, but -only at carefully chosen moments, showing that such a smile would not -be allowed by higher authorities. At last, when I purposely crowded up -rather near to the prisoner ahead of me, she took the opportunity to -check my progress by putting her arm in front of me in the recognised -fashion, meanwhile telling me in a hasty whisper and without looking -at me, just as prisoners communicate, that Mrs. Lawrence was well, but -that Mrs. Macdonald had been found to have a fractured hip-joint and -would have to stay in hospital a long while. - -Although my cell was considerably warmer than that in the hospital, -I still had not grown accustomed to the insufficiency of my -underclothing, and as now there was no worse condition of things ahead -of me I put into use the strip of flannel that had been given me for -knee-binders. I found that either they slipped off immediately or had -to be bound so tight that they impeded circulation and the free use of -the limbs. As one had to be constantly kneeling down for bed making, -etc., this device proved quite impracticable. Fearing lest fresh -suggestion on my part would have to be passed by a series of officials -and finally submitted to the judgment of a doctor who might, as in -the nightgown question, satirically exclaim that this was a point not -suitable to put to him, I took advantage of the light that was left -on all night, and during the uninspected hours sewed the strips of -flannel on to the flannel drawers; this enabled me to tuck them into -the stockings knickerbocker-wise. - -The chaplain kindly came to visit me and remained for quite a long -talk. He is the only male prison official who visits the prisoners -without an attendant, the Governor and Deputy Governor being -accompanied generally by the Matron, and the medical officer by -a hospital attendant or wardress. He told me that many prisoners -after release wrote to him with gratitude for his kindness and help; -nevertheless he seemed to me to have but little fellow-feeling for -the flocks he shepherded in Holloway. I appealed to him, in a way -I had not been able to do within hearing of the other patients in -the hospital, about the case of Mrs. Macdonald. I told how it seemed -to me an instance of the way in which prison officials left to -themselves could not possibly have shown such brutality and neglect -as was actually the case, had not the tradition of the prison system -exacted a lower standard of conduct than was natural. I summed up the -special grievances--her being made to walk across the yard, to walk -up the three flights of stairs, being left a whole day in her cell -before being conveyed to hospital, the refusal of the doctors to use -the X-rays for investigation in the first instance, the contempt with -which they had ignored the suggestions of this unusually intelligent -woman, the refusal to allow her to see a doctor from outside when she -was dissatisfied with their diagnosis, in spite of the fact that she -could not in any sense be regarded as a criminal, having been charged -for “obstruction” only when on a perfectly peaceable deputation to the -House of Commons. The difficulties put in the way of her communication -with her husband relative to her release. The cruel, needless -physical suffering as well as mental worry which such treatment had -entailed, perhaps resulting in maiming her for life. He had no word of -sympathy to offer in connection with this case, and when I compared -the treatment with that meted out to myself, when much greater -consideration was shown with much less need, he took the official line -that all that was done by officials must be right, and that his own -wife had had a similar fall, some friends had advised X-rays, others -had said they would be useless. Nothing was done, the injury turned -out to be slight and her recovery had been complete. At the time he -was using such arguments to me, it was already known that in Mrs. -Macdonald’s case the hip-joint had been fractured. - -I know that it is a very serious matter to tell of these things in a -published book. I shall be reminded that officials are unable to answer -back or to defend themselves in public. It must, however, be remembered -that prisoners are in a yet more defenceless position, and that having -personally witnessed and experienced the effect on prisoners of certain -kinds of official infallibility, it is a matter of conscience to speak -out. But in all these instances it is the bad tradition, the wrong -standard of conduct exacted, not the personal character of officials, -that has to be attacked. This chaplain, given ordinary surroundings, -would no doubt be according to his light a well-meaning, and according -to his powers a well-doing man. If his work were in a West End parish -or in a rural district among people whom he genuinely revered, I can -conceive that his sympathy and understanding would be considerable. -The blame of his attitude towards prisoners should rest on those who -selected him for a prison job and on the many elements responsible for -a system which instils contempt for the prisoner as a fundamental tenet -of the prison official. I was told by a fellow-prisoner, a Suffragette, -who on admission had entered her religious beliefs under the title -“atheist,” that this chaplain several times discussed religious -matters with her in a spirit of tolerant reverence for points of view -differing from his own. The combination of the two offices, priest -and prison official, seem to be almost incompatible, anyhow while the -prison system rests upon its present basis. It would be more suitable -if religious and moral teachers could come into the prison solely as -representatives of the ethical bodies they represent. They could then -offer their spiritual guidance and consolations to the unfortunate -inmates, as they would to free individuals, without in any way -compromising the “system” or the officials who have to carry it out. - -On Sunday we were allowed to go to Holy Communion. This impressed one -very strangely. An attempt was made to treat one more freely, combined -with many of the same restrictions as at other times. There were about -ten or twelve women altogether, of whom about six were Suffragettes. To -our great delight Mrs. Lawrence was one of them. It seemed ages since I -had left her, and I was delighted to see her again. The beautiful words -of the service were almost more than one could bear, and every one of -them seemed to contain freedom. It seemed as if we must be holding -it privately among ourselves. “Drink ye all of this, for this is My -Blood of the New Testament, which is shed for you and for many for the -remission of sins: Do this as oft as ye shall drink it, in remembrance -of Me.” Yet there was the wardress with her face from which neither -good nor bad could be told, neither kind nor unkind, and the face of -the parson which seemed of the very nature of officialdom. After the -service we left the chapel by different doors, Mrs. Lawrence’s batch -and ours, and we did not see each other again. - -The next morning when we were returning, through the many halls of the -building, single file, our huge boots ringing out on the stone floor, -at one door a hospital superintendent stood and said to each one as she -passed: “Any application for the doctor?” When it came to my turn, I -saw that it was my friend from the hospital, but no look of recognition -betrayed itself in her face. She put out her arm to stop me and wheeled -me round to the back. When several others had passed her she turned to -me, began quickly undoing my dress and said rapidly, but with still -no look of recognition: “Well, have you been all right?” “Oh, yes,” -I said, “but surely you are not going to look at it here?” She made -no answer, but began to inspect me even more quickly. I insisted on -turning my back on the long file which seemed never to end. She asked -kindly questions, and said she would come and see the other wound that -afternoon. She did not come, however, but sent one of the younger -superintendents. She came once in the early morning, and it was very -nice to see her again; it was the last time. - -On one of the latter days a girl was wrongfully accused of laughing in -chapel, and confined to her cell in consequence the following day. It -is possible that someone was guilty of this. The severity which some -of the wardresses used at chapel seated above the prisoners, one at -every two or three rows, their backs to the altar and their attention -completely taken up with the prisoners, gave one a strange sensation -in church; it took away all reverence of the usual kind, and made -one nervous and possibly inclined to laugh. But, as it happened, the -girl punished for this offence was far removed from the possibility -of laughing. She was one of those I had noticed with particularly long -hair; it must have reached below her knees. We had come away together -once from an Albert Hall meeting in a four-wheel cab when I had been -lucky in securing it, and a wet evening made me invite strangers who -were anxious to get away. She was particularly deferential and modest -in her ways, her manner in chapel was irreproachable, and that she -was picked out for punishment was most singularly ill-judged. We -volunteered punishment of the same order as hers, and neither chapel, -exercise, nor concerted labour had the benefit of us during the day. - -The last days were spent in burning excitement. Nothing that I can -say will explain the feeling I had that I was going to be free once -more. The food, the clothes, the getting up at 5.30 a.m., these -were bad enough, but they were as nothing compared to the incessant -brutal treatment of the official manner, as with Mrs. Macdonald more -especially, but also with Mrs. Duval, Miss Lawless, and others; in the -constantly being ordered about and spoken to as if one had no feelings -or perceptions, there was nothing but an extreme severity of manner -without the smallest variation. On the third or fourth day before our -last, someone had a visitor while we were at associated labour. On her -return along the line she said to me: “A speech is expected of you; -they hope great things of you at the feast.” My heart gave one bound. -This meant release without a doubt, but a speech! How was it such a -thing was expected of me? “I’ll simply tell some of the things that -take place here,” I thought, and I felt that this was necessary. - -The morning of March 24 we were released. My excitement was great, I -had not slept, and from 4.30 onwards it was impossible to keep quiet. -At 5.30 we were called in the regulation way and towards 7 we were -taken down to other cells. I was put into one with a stranger whom I -had not seen before. She was a servant, a lady’s maid, who had left her -last place, or, rather, they had left her, because of her opinions. -She had determined to go in for the Deputation, although probably it -would mean that she got no place again.[8] The cell where we were was -dirty and smelt horribly, but I said nothing, hoping that my companion -would not notice it. She soon did, however, for the smell nearly made -her faint. I was given a packet of letters--a large heap from friends -and strangers all the world over. At the head of the telegrams was a -two-sheet one from our baker in the country, sent off the moment I was -a prisoner, addressed to “The Castle where Suffragettes are confined, -Holloway,” most anxious about my food, and might he send the special -bread he always made for me! I read my mother’s letter again and again; -it was all kindness, and I could hardly wait to see her. We were -arranged in a long, close file, in the same order in which we had been -ushered in, and put to stand in the big gateway. I never knew what it -was that kept us, but there we stood for nearly an hour. A wardress or -two were watching us, and we were not allowed to move. At last the big -doors were unbolted, we were half pushed from where we stood, we were -out in the open--we were free. My sister and her eldest girl and boy -had somehow gained permission to come within the outer gates. I saw -them and forgot all else. There was no release-breakfast feast; we were -told that we were to meet that evening at the Inns of Court Hotel and -make our speeches there. - - FOOTNOTE: [8] I heard afterwards that the married daughter of the - lady she was last with had taken her gladly and at once. - -Some days had passed when I went back to the prison. I thought I should -be glad to get within reach of the ordinary prisoner, I in no way -dreaded it. I had more to find out about X., the 3rd Division prisoner -of the hospital. But, strangely enough, when I saw the big tower of -Holloway, that looked quite different from anything else, and which -brought back the inevitable picture of the women that go in, are kept -in durance, and let out again to a life more horribly unnatural, I felt -my legs begin to shake, and by the time I was shown in to the Governor, -who kindly saw me, it was all I could do to walk upstairs. I could not -see X.; they said that someone else had been to visit her that month. I -got in touch with her case through the Prisoners’ Aid Society but they -said that she was being “attended to” by another lady. - -I went again to Holloway the morning that X. was to be released. Her -freedom was due at 8 a.m. Two women and her little boy were waiting for -her, they had kept the boy from all harm during the long months of her -imprisonment. They didn’t know where she was going to live, or what -she would do, they had heard nothing from her. Soon after eight the -great doors swung open, and the prisoners for that morning were let -out, but there was no X., among them. I inquired at the door, but they -would give no information there. After waiting another three-quarters -of an hour I put in an appeal to see the Governor. The little boy of -four years old had waited more than an hour outside, I had petitioned -for him and one of the women to wait inside, but in vain. I was shown -up to the Governor, who kindly saw me and made inquiries for me about -X.’s case. She was booked to go out that morning, but was waiting for -her uncle, a well-to-do man, to take her away. I said her little boy -was there, might he not spend the time with her, as she would be taking -him away. The answer was “No.” The Governor said it was a case in which -the Chaplain and a lady visitor had taken a special interest, that he -knew very little about it. He asked me very kindly to wait in his room, -but as he had nothing more to tell me I went back to the women outside. -They told me more fully about X. She seems to have been in every way a -good and hard-working woman. She had killed her child, knowing that it -would be impossible to keep it alive. The man, the father, lived in the -same street, but now he had gone, they did not know where. They hoped -that she would come back and live where she had been before, but they -feared the rich uncle, a publican. X. had been to live with him and her -aunt when quite a young girl, but they had insisted that she must tout -the men for them, and engage in illegal intercourse as an attraction. -She had run away, and would not live with them. At her trial the uncle -had been called in, and he, being a Citizen of London, had kindly -managed that she should be tried only for concealment of birth. He had -done well for her at the trial, but now they feared he would get hold -of her again. My feelings were indeed torn when I had to tell them the -Governor’s news. They had kept the child without help from anybody, -sometimes it was a very hard thing, but they had always kept it in -good health. Presently a tall man came by and went into the prison. -About a quarter of an hour after he came out. X. was with him. She -walked head down, her face in tears. Scarcely knowing what she did, she -advanced towards her little boy, stretched out both arms and gave him -a passionate embrace. He had rushed towards her calling out “Mother!” -Then, sobbing as if her heart would break, she followed the man to the -public-house opposite. The two women made as if they would follow her, -and I slipped into her hand a letter I had written in case I did not -see her. The man then rounded on the women, and driving them away with -his hand, said: “Keep away, we don’t want you--your money shall be paid -you all right,” and he fled along the pavement, taking X. by the arm. -We went and had some belated breakfast at a shop. I took the address of -the women and the little boy, but I unfortunately lost it when I was -abroad. I had given them mine, but I have never heard of them from that -day. - -I went abroad with my mother, and in the meanwhile things happened -apace in England. The deputations, in ever-increasing numbers, -succeeded one another with imprisonments of two or three months. The -officials treated all the deputations with the utmost indifference. -Miss Wallace Dunlop wrote up on the walls of the House of Commons: -“Women’s Deputation, June 29. Bill of Rights. It is the right of all -subjects to petition the King. All commitments and prosecutions for -such petitioning are illegal.” This is one of the most fundamental laws -of Great Britain, but the vote has rendered it unnecessary for men. For -this she was given one month’s imprisonment, and she it was who began -the hunger strike, and was let free after four days. For several months -succeeding prisoners followed Miss Dunlop’s fine example, and the Home -Secretary, Mr. Herbert Gladstone, let them out after four or five -days, some of them were kept five or six days. When they were let out -they were released unconditionally. Towards the middle of September, -Mr. Gladstone thought that he would make another move and, instead of -releasing them, he had them fed by force in the prisons. The horror -this created was at first small, for there were but few people who -realised what it meant. I shall never forget the impression that it -made on me. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -NEWCASTLE: POLICE STATION CELL - - -I was at Birmingham in October, 1909, and I had two meetings with -Mrs. Pankhurst. Whenever this happened one felt most singularly -useless beside that great woman. I was overcome by the sense of being -superfluous, and oppressed at having to go through the same ordeal -in the evening. After the first meeting she took me with her to a -nursing home to see the girl who had been the first to be released -after the hunger-strike and forcible feeding. It was a fine evening, -and a beautiful red light lit up the window as we came in; against it -was merely the shadow of a girl, sitting in an arm-chair. She did not -look ill in an ordinary way, but young and fresh, only so absolutely -thin and wasted, it would not have surprised us if life had gone out. -She told her story very simply, just the bare facts and nothing more. -She had been fed for a month. Mrs. Pankhurst, in cross-questioning -her, elicited some of the horrors. She had resisted the gag as long as -possible, then, with the increasing weakness, she had not the strength -to resist much. Yes, the tube was a long one, pushed down the throat, -in spite of all attempts to prevent it, and into the stomach. The -feeling was that the tube was absolutely choking you, and when it was -withdrawn that it dragged after it the whole of your inside. - -She looked absolutely ethereal as she smiled at us and said “Good-bye.” -For several days her face haunted me, it was startlingly like -something. Then I remembered the paintings of Fra Angelico in the -Chapel of St. Mark’s at Florence. I bought one of the little sixpenny -editions of his pictures. There it was, the thing I had seen lately, -the look of spiritual strength shining through physical weakness. -I looked through the book to choose one specially like the girl at -Birmingham; there were several that reminded me of her. I had looked -at these pictures in my younger days, and their great beauty had given -me joy, but I had felt annoyed with the man for painting beings so -inhuman, women that were ethereal but so little real, a look of purity -that no living creature has. Now I had longed for them, having seen the -thing portrayed in life. As I looked through the book, I turned over -suddenly on a picture that was quite different. There was a crowd of -women, real women, doing battle with men. One hit out at a soldier--the -men were soldiers--another thrust out her arm, and with her hand over -his face, kept him away with all the strength she could, a third had -been thrown to the ground, but, with a face of raging despair was -thrusting out in every direction. The soldiers were simply carrying out -their duty, an order had gone forth and they obeyed it; in the arms -of the women were little babies, they had been told to kill them, and -they did as they were told. In a seat above, looking on quite calmly, -was Herod. It was the Massacre of the Innocents. The picture made a -deep impression upon me, yet it all seemed so small compared with -the unnecessary death rates of now. I was, just then, reading some -facts that dealt with the death rate of infants. I found in one of the -booklets by J. Johnston, Esq., M.D., 1909, this passage: “The first -big fact which faces us upon this subject is that while the death rate -for England and Wales for 1906 was 15.4, the infantile mortality--the -death rate of children under twelve months--was 132.” This means that -one in eight of the children born in this country dies before its first -birthday--a death roll of 339 per day--a massacre of the innocents -greater than that of King Herod at Bethlehem. And this wholesale -slaughter of young life goes on, not for one day, as did that historic -butchery, but is repeated every day, every week, every month, year in -and year out, until in the year 1906 the army of baby martyrs reached -a grand total of 123,895. Well might the African monarch, King Khama, -say, “You English take great care of your goods, but you throw away -your children.” - -I left that room in Birmingham in a maze of feelings. An angel had been -in my presence and I, who agreed with all she did, had left her and -many others to go through with this alone. My mind was made up. I would -take the very next opportunity of making my protest with a stone. - - * * * * * - -On Friday, October 8, Christabel Pankhurst and I were on our way to -Newcastle. We were seated opposite to each other in the midst of a -crowded third-class carriage. It was on this occasion that I realised, -as I had not yet done, the wonderful character, the imperturable good -temper, the brilliant intellect of my companion. As we could not talk -in this crowded train, I showed her some letters and papers on which I -wanted her advice, or which I wanted her to know about. Whether they -were print, typewritten, or manuscript, she had read them all in a -moment, so as to discuss them with me afterwards. When we arrived at -Newcastle we found that we had accompanied Mr. Lloyd George; there -was a small crowd that welcomed him and that cheered half-heartedly. -We went, after depositing our things at an hotel, to join an outdoor -meeting. Christabel spoke. I sold _Votes for Women_ in the crowd, -which, though a large one, was mostly composed of out-of-work men, -who took little interest in what was said. We drove round the town -in honour of Miss New, who had just come out of prison, and went to -a tea in her honour in an hotel where some fifty or sixty women were -assembled. After this there was a strange meeting in the ground-floor -room of a lodging-house. There were twelve women; we were all intending -stone-throwers, and Christabel was there to hearten us up and to go -into details about the way in which we were to do it. Mrs. Brailsford -was there, whose husband was lately on the staff of the _Daily News_; -he and Mr. Nevinson had resigned their posts because of the shameful -way in which that paper and the Liberal Government had forsaken the -women. - -I had made up my mind that I was going to throw a stone--that was -as sure as death, but the manner of it was going to be my own; I -was equally sure of that. I was not sure of “the stone-throwers.” -I had vaguely felt that they would have different reasons from mine -for this errand, that perhaps, though they could not be more certain -than myself, they would mind it less. I had not been in the room with -them five minutes before I realised that I was mistaken. I was the -“hooligan,” if there were one amongst them. One I specially remember. -She was pretty, with a great deal of fair hair. She had not, I thought, -the look of determination, of silent, unhesitating determination, which -gave an air of inflexibility to the others. She leaned forward and -asked many questions: the wardresses, would they, too, be disagreeable, -would they pull down her hair and tear out the tortoise-shell combs? -One somehow knew by her voice that she was not ready, she asked her -questions as if something of a nightmare was in her mind; they were -asked quite simply, but seemed to say, “Oh! save me from this!” I asked -Christabel, when alone with her at the hotel, if I might tell her -there was no need for her to do it, that I thought she was not quite -prepared. “Of course,” she answered, “if she does not feel up to it, -let her stand aside. One cannot tell how one is going to feel, she has -never done anything before.” Not long ago Mrs. Pethick Lawrence had met -her, it was at a bazaar. She wore a big hat and looked as remote as it -is possible to look from stone throwing. She expressed the greatest -admiration for the militants. “There is only one thing,” she said, -“which I cannot think worth while--that they should go to prison.” I -was to get her out of it the next morning, the day of Lloyd George’s -meetings and of our militancy. - -That evening there was an immense meeting at the drill hall where -Christabel was to speak, but before she began a gang of about forty -students howled and threw squibs, so that nothing could be heard. When -she got up for a moment the applause drowned everything, but it soon -was again impossible to hear her. The students broke up the seats and -threw everything about. Then some ten of them charged the platform. -A row of stewards hastily ranged themselves and tried to check their -advance, but their arms were wrenched apart, until the husband of one -of them took his turn and gave it to one of the students, whereupon the -other men turned tail and ran. At this man coming forward the police -interfered, they had been appealed to in vain by some of the stewards. -It was most difficult not to help them, but I had sworn to keep myself -till the next day. The row made by the other students went on unabated. -Meanwhile, Christabel remained perfectly good-tempered. For the first -quarter of an hour she spoke up, but as it was impossible for her -voice to carry above the noise she lowered her voice and spoke only to -reporters. The next day her speech appeared in full in all the local -press. - -The next morning, October 9, we were to meet early at the same -lodging-house. The morning papers were full of Mr. Lloyd George, and in -biographical sketches emphasised the glory of his having been militant, -and successfully militant, through several questions that he cared -about in his early days. It was different in the lodging-house from -the night before. All was hurry and determination. Two of the women -had gone already to deliver their stony messages. The organiser, a -very straightforward and reasonable woman, was sending each one to a -different place. She said, “There is a stone wants to be put through -the door of the Palace Theatre in the Haymarket. It must be done at -once or the gang of detectives will have become too thick.” A firm -voice said: “I’ll go.” It was the young girl with fair hair who had -asked so many questions the night before, and whom I was going to set -free. “Oh, no,” said the organiser, “this job will have to be done -alone--two would be detected at once.” “I’ll go.” It was like a force -of nature that reiterated this, and there was something of adamant at -the back of the voice. She picked up two or three papers to sell, and -was out in the street before we any of us knew what she was doing. I -dashed after her. I couldn’t believe that there was so much change in -her since the night before. I moved quickly, but it was only down the -street that led out of the lodging-house street that I caught her up. -“I had thought of getting you out of it, because you seemed too young -to do the work,” I said. “That was last night; to-day all is quite -different.” “But let me try and say what I have in my mind. You are -going to throw a stone. Think, as you lift your arm to do it, of the -majority in the House of Commons who for years have said they are for -Votes for Women, who over and over again for twenty years have voted -for the second reading of a Woman’s Bill, and were quite content that -it should stop there. Think of the nearly total Cabinet for Woman -Suffrage when the Liberals came in, under a Suffrage Prime Minister, -but all attempts to pass a Bill were treated as futile. Think of the -women who work with a sweated wage, who have not the energy to rebel, -who are cloaked with poverty; the thousands who, stricken with poverty -more hideous than we can think of on one side, and tempted with money -on the other, sink into a life of shame, which is endured for five -or six years, till death releases them. Think of Lloyd George, whose -speech is always fair but who carefully prevents anything being done -for women. Think of the women who have been sent to prison for their -protest against these things, who have hunger-struck as a fresh protest -and who now have been fed by force. Then throw your stone and make it -do its work.” - -“Thank you,” she said, “thank you.” I looked up at her, as I had not -liked to do till that minute. A changed being stood before me. I had -noticed that she had changed from the night before, she had changed -unbelievably at this minute, and all that strength, determination, -complete forgetfulness of self could give her, were with her now. - -We parted. I went back to the others. The next thing I heard of her -was in the other office, where we provided ourselves with stones. A -little girl of about sixteen, who kept on running messages for us, came -rapidly into the room. “Miss X.,” she said, “has thrown her stone, -broken her window, and been arrested.” Then she went out. From that -moment I knew that all was well. Miss X. got through the two days -in the police-court, the trial, the hunger strike, and the forcible -feeding that followed for the space of fourteen days, as did the -others. Her body was weakness, but her soul was strength. - -No particular job was given to me. Miss Emily Davison and I were to -keep together. It was still early, and first we had to make sure of our -stones. We went to the other office to get them. I was doing up mine -in brown paper, double thick. “You will not be able to throw those,” -said the organiser, “if there is the least bit of wind, it will get -inside and send them you don’t know where.” That was true. I found -some much thinner paper which kept closely round the stone. I took -four or five. On each one I wrote a different thing, I think they were -all taken from Mr. Lloyd George’s recent speech. I put them into my -pockets and went out. Miss Davison had been speaking from every part -of the town during the last week. I recommended her to buy another -hat for partial disguise. We went into a hat shop and did so. In the -shop there was a fascinating little black kitten which it was hard -to leave. Then we went into an eating shop, thinking it was as well -to have some luncheon. The shop was overpoweringly stuffy and hot. I -had not met Miss Davison before, and it was most interesting to hear -her experiences. Still, we could neither of us speak nor listen with -anything but effort. We decided to go and see what it was like at the -Haymarket, a large, open space, where the car with Mr. Lloyd George -would probably pass. There was still more than an hour before he could -come. The crowd was already considerable. Nearly every woman that I saw -looked friendly; this was probably my imagination, but it did me good. -The Suffragettes were greatly thought of that day. The place, we found, -was divided in two by a hoarding of about ten feet in height; there -was a space, guarded by police, that could be opened to let a carriage -through. We looked round at the windows of all the adjacent buildings, -but they were not of an official or of a sufficiently conspicuous -character for our stones. Presently a man in front of us--the crowd -now was pretty thick--was twirling round one of his cards in his hands -which were folded behind him. He then held it up, so that we could -see there was writing on it. At last his signals grew more desperate. -One of us took the card from him. On it was written his deferential -greeting, that he knew what we were out for, could he help us in any -way, run messages for us or anything? We answered, writing on the other -side, that we thanked him cordially, but as we had no particular job, -it was best for him to “wait and see.” He had a kindly face and looked -the right sort, but we thought it was just as well that this was the -true answer. There was a monument to the soldiers who had died in the -war in the midst of the open space. Their names were written on it, and -the little boys were clambering up the monument to see above the crowd. -They had died for their country, that was the one fact which seemed to -stand out very clearly from the monument. Yes, nobly, and in a good -fight, they had died--where is the statue to the women who had given -their lives to the nation? - -We heard cheering in the distance, it was the arrival of Mr. Lloyd -George at the theatre, he having driven by another way. My companion -began to think that our chance was over until the evening. A feeling -came over me that I could not wait any longer, and that somehow or -other I must throw my stone. As it would anyhow be but symbolical, it -seemed to me one could find an occasion as well here as elsewhere. One -thing, however, I was determined upon--it must be more zealously done, -more deliberate in its character than the stone-throwing at ordinary -windows, which had been done lately. I was determined that when they -had me in court my act should inevitably be worse than that of other -women. At this moment there was a hurry in the crowd, the police were -making a clearing and opening the carriage entrance for a motor-car. We -found ourselves on the very edge of the crowd. As the motor appeared, -I whispered to Miss Davison: “Is this any good?” “Not the least in -the world,” was her reply, “just one of the motors coming back.” I -knew this, of course, but the instinct was too much for me. To throw a -stone against the car as it ran along the side was dangerous, as there -were two men in the front. I stepped out into the road, stood straight -in front of the car, shouted out “How can you, who say you back the -women’s cause, stay on in a Government which refuses them the vote, and -is persecuting them for asking it,” and threw a stone at the car, but -very low down. I thought I had thrown it too low, so that it would -not hit the car. I was going on, in the space of time which seemed -infinitely long, to tell the car to turn back and get their answer from -Mr. Lloyd George, then call to the people to come through the gap and -hear his answer. I had time to think out all this. Miss Davison came to -my side, and I saw someone take hold of her before she could throw her -stone. Then two plain-clothes detectives caught hold of me, but what -was my intense surprise, without any violence whatever. They simply -led me back through the crowd which surged around on every side. I had -thought there were no actual friends where we stood, but I at once saw -one or two ready to come and help me if I wanted it. So I was still -and said not a word. My part was finished, and I saw that anything -said might easily cause a tremendous disturbance at those close -quarters. Miss Davison was arrested at the same time, though she had -done nothing, and we were led away together. It was a business getting -through the crowd. When we had left the Haymarket the crush was very -much less, and the two detectives in plain clothes who were responsible -for me walked on either side without touching me. This went rather -strangely with the newspaper contention that I was “very excitable.” -Another incident which got put into the papers was, that when we were -going down a main street, two tramcars, going different ways, were -about to meet. This pressed the crowd that followed us and pushed us -all together. We were walking, of course, in the roadway. A little girl -with a baby in a perambulator and a small boy on foot had got on to the -island and were wishing to pass to the pavement, being afraid of the -two trams. I realised that I was the policeman of that show. I stopped -and just held out my hand to the detective on my right. We let the baby -and its leaders pass, then we moved on. - -We were taken to the central police station of the town. The police -here were most civil, and, indeed, kind. We gave our names and -addresses, and then we waited in the main room. Poor Miss Davison -was very distressed at doing nothing. Her heroism had to wait for -another day.[9] Mrs. Baines came into the police court and spoke to -us. I was filled with disappointment that I had not been able to do -more. She told me that she was quite content, that I had thrown my -stone straight, and, she believed, hit the car. She was delightfully -encouraging, and made one think one had done well. Presently Mrs. -Brailsford joined us, she had done exactly what she meant to do, and -with a hatchet had hit one of the barricades. - - FOOTNOTE: [9] Soon after this Miss Davison was forcibly fed in - Manchester Prison, and, on barricading her cell, the hose-pipe was - played upon her from the window, a process of force that caused - her infinite pain. She fainted, and it was many days before she - recovered. She owed her life probably to being released from prison, - and to the fact that she was a great swimmer, used to the shock - of cold water and to withstanding its force. In 1913 she met her - death with the most heroic courage at the Derby race. It was her - opportunity of proclaiming to the whole world, perhaps heedless till - then, that women claim citizenship and human rights. She stood in - front of the race and was knocked down by the King’s horse Anmer, - rendered unconscious, and died the following Sunday, June 8. Millions - of people, not only in our own but other countries, knew, from this - act, that there are women who care so passionately for the vote and - all it means that they are willing to die for it. - -I noticed in this central police station a large iron cage. It was -empty, and we wondered what purpose it could serve. On one of the -benches a little boy was sitting, of about seven or eight years old. He -had on ragged clothes, but seemed quite happy with a cup of soup which -he had been given. It seemed odd though to bring small children to such -a place, with nothing but policemen, although several of these were -good-natured. - -After we had been here a considerable time and were joined by some -of our companions, we heard that it was unlikely they would allow us -bail, and we were taken off to the cells. Who could have believed that -in the central police station of a place like Newcastle they could be -so dirty? Mine was No. 2. It was on the left side of a broad gangway, -which could be shut off by an iron gate. It was October and inclined to -be dark, and when I was first put into the cell it was impossible to -see what it was like or what it contained. It was rather high, the very -small window opposite the doorway was either of foggy glass or grimed -with dirt, it scarcely lit up anything but itself. To the right was a -plank, rather wide and long, and with a kind of bolster made of wood. -This was all for seat or bed. When the evening light was lit above the -door, where it was barred with iron on the side of the cell, I saw -that the wood was filthy. There was a plenitude of fleas, but no lice. -Under the window to the right was a lavatory, it was extremely dirty, -the water could only be turned on from outside. There was a ledge about -three feet high, which sheltered the seat. Under the window, but this -I could not see till the second day, was a men’s urinal, there was a -gutter in the floor for this, but no water. The cleanliness of the wall -can be imagined. The smell in the cell was continuously foul.[10] I was -very tired, but only liked to sit, not lie, on the bed. - - FOOTNOTE: [10] I have been in police station cells in several other - places--a variety in London and two in Liverpool--but never have I - seen anything like this. The other cells were scrupulously clean. - -After what seemed a very long time, a policeman summoned me, and said -we were all to have food together in the wardresses’ room. As I was let -out I noticed seven of the others being let out too--Winifred Jones, -Ellen Wines Pitman, Kathleen Brown, Kitty Marion, Dorothy Pethick and -Emily Davison. Mrs. Brailsford was the only one I did not see. The -four others--Violet Bryant, Ellen Pitfield, Lily Asquith and Dorothy -Shallard--had all done their work the previous evening, and had been -sentenced on this, Saturday, morning to two weeks’ imprisonment. -It was, of course, a joy to see them. It seemed so very long since -that morning. When we had passed the central police office, and were -ushered into the wardresses’ room, it appeared that Mrs. Brailsford -was shut into the wardresses’ bedroom--whether for a more honourable -imprisonment, she being a woman whose public work none could call -deficient in selflessness and courage, or whether because she was a -“dangerous criminal,” having used a hatchet in making her mark on -the barricade, we did not know. I remember catching sight of her as -the door was opened to let in a cup of tea. There she sat, calm and -erect, and Mr. Brailsford, who had been let in to see her, in piteous -trouble, having the one thought--“Will my wife be fed by force--how can -they dare to do it? How will she be able to bear it?” - -Most of the others I had not seen before, yet I felt exuberant delight -at being with them. One only I knew well, and that was Miss Ellen -Pitman. She was in the Deputation of February and, after being in -prison some ten days, she was brought to the hospital for neuralgic -pains in her leg. She was a trained nurse, we had got to know each -other well, and her fine face will always be very dear to me. We now -got to know the wardresses--they were as kind to us as possible. -I was so tired I could scarcely see, and after a time we retired -to rest. There was a deafening noise; the cells were filled mostly -with drunkards, for it was Saturday. Thundering blows on the doors, -accompanied by a string of oaths, went on all through the night. The -police were very kind to them, bringing them fresh water to drink, -chaffing them and coaxing them. No bedding of any kind or rugs were -provided by the police, but our friends outside were most wonderfully -good to us, and, when they found we were not to be bailed out, they -were busy collecting rugs and blankets. At about 12 they sent me -in a rug and a sort of air-cushion bed, which would have been most -delightful, but I tried every end in vain, I didn’t know how to put air -into it. I was stiff for several days from my rest on the plank, but I -owed it to the friends that I did not have two nights of it. On Sunday -they brought a mattress instead of the air bed, and my flannel sheets -which gave me a restful night. - -On Sunday I sent for the district visitor, supposing she would be a -woman, but was told there was no district visitor; a police-court -missionary? not one either; finally, I sent for the doctor. My -complaint was that no toilet paper was provided, and no sanitary towels -for the women. Prisoners are kept from Saturday afternoon until Monday. -I said, were not these people the same as those who go to prison, they -have these necessaries there? “I don’t know about a prison, I’m sure -they would never use them in Police Station cells.” Exactly the same -remark was made about the prisons, but all the same these things were -instituted and now used by prisoners. I begged that, at least, they -might be kept in charge of the wardress. - -Not long after I had seen the doctor, I was summoned out to see someone -else. To my great delight it was Mrs. Pankhurst. She was all sympathy, -and it was delightful seeing her. - -I was had out of my cell yet another time, for my name, age, etc., -to be “taken down” by a policeman in a book. I was able to look over -the book as he wrote, and I saw, to my intense surprise, that the law -brought three charges against me, first, of assault on Sir Walter -Runciman, who was in the car; secondly, of malicious injury to the car -at £4; thirdly, of disorderly behaviour in a public place. I felt very -exalted to think I had done so much, and thought that three months was -the least they could give me. I could not help being pleased to think -that the car had contained the host of Mr. Lloyd George, not merely the -chauffeur. But what pleased me most was the £4 damage. How I could -have done it was indeed a mystery, but I was glad to know that the -stone had not gone on the ground, as I had feared. As I went through -the central room on one of these occasions, the cage which I had seen -before, to my astonishment, was inhabited--by a man, I expected to see -some fierce brute, but he was small, frail and miserably degraded, -without power to do anyone an injury, with marks of abnormal weakness -in his face. When I saw him, the feeling came over me with a great -tide, that I should throw myself at his feet and try to bear something -of his burden, because if I had done my duty, and if my contemporary -women and those who went before had done their duty, we should have -given him another life, by securing better, more human conditions, for -himself and for his mother who gave him birth. He had lived in that -terrible state of things which make it hardly possible to survive. -Here, at any rate, was a man intensely feeble in his body, and he was -put in an iron cage as the only suitable place! - -We were called out and made to stand at the doors of our cells. -Presently, the plain-clothes police came to “learn our faces,” and -after looking at us steadfastly for some minutes, we were put back -again. - -The food was brought for us by our friends from outside, who provided -for us deliciously, and we had our meals all together in the -wardresses’ room. Only Mrs. Brailsford never appeared, being shut in -the inner room, but we sent her some of our food. On Sunday night, the -wardress had brought us a little basin with some warm water to our -cells, which was indeed a boon. - -That Sunday night the police were most kind, they allowed me to sit -at a table outside my cell and write. My cell was much too dark for -writing. To-night the place was more full of noise than it had been -before. The wild yells, and blows on the doors, made my hand shake so -that at first I could not write, but by holding the pencil, lent to me -by the police, over the paper, it came sufficiently legibly at last. -I wrote to my mother and my sister. I also wrote to the _Times_ the -following letter, from the eleven[11] who were imprisoned:-- - - “SIR,--We ask you to give us our last opportunity, before we go - through the ordeal awaiting us in Newcastle Prison, of explaining to - the public the action which we are now about to take. - - “We want to make it known that we shall carry on our protest in our - prison cells. We shall put before the Government by means of the - hunger-strike four alternatives: To release us in a few days; to - inflict violence upon our bodies; to add death to the champions of our - cause by leaving us to starve; or, and this is the best and only wise - alternative, to give women the vote. - - “We appeal to the Government to yield, not to the violence of our - protest, but to the reasonableness of our demand, and to grant the - vote to the duly qualified women of the country. We shall then serve - our full sentence quietly and obediently and without complaint. Our - protest is against the action of the Government in opposing Woman - Suffrage, and against that alone. We have no quarrel with those who - may be ordered to maltreat us. - - “Yours sincerely, - - “LILY ASQUITH. - “JANE E. BRAILSFORD. - “KATHLEEN BROWN. - “VIOLET BRYANT. - “ELLEN PITFIELD. - “DOROTHY SHALLARD. - “WINIFRED JONES. - “CONSTANCE LYTTON. - “KITTY MARION. - “DOROTHY PETHICK. - “ELLEN W. PITMAN. - - “CENTRAL POLICE STATION, - “NEWCASTLE, - “_October 10, 1909_.” - - FOOTNOTE: [11] I handed this letter to a friend on Monday morning. At - the trial Miss Davison was dismissed, so her name was taken from the - signatures. - -I wrote on the wall of my cell my name and the words which rung in my -head over and over again, from the Book of Joshua: “Only be thou strong -and very courageous.” - -I received a letter in the police cell, saying that I had thrown my -stone not far from a family residence of relatives of ours--did I not -feel it hence a double disgrace? In answer to this I had thought some -time. Who were those for whom we fought? I seemed to hear them in my -cell, the defenceless ones who had no one to speak for their hungry -need. The sweated workers, the mothers widowed with little children, -the women on the streets, and I saw that their backs were bent, their -eyes grown sorrowful, their hearts dead without hope. And they were not -a few, but thousands upon thousands. Side by side I considered what -they could do, what they had done, where women had the vote. The wife -has half her husband’s wages, by law, and when he does not give it, -she can have the amount paid direct to her. She is given money for her -children by the State when her husband dies. When she is not married, -if she has a child she is paid for it, not by the father direct, but -through the public authority, and she has not to apply to the father -for her money. I thought of all these helpless women, of the Parliament -that had given its theoretic consent for over twenty years, but refused -to pass a Bill, and I thought what are my relations? I do not know, -but if anything, they are for us, and if they are still asleep, in the -fog of the “don’t know and don’t care,” am I bound to consider their -dreaming? - -I wrote on the wall:-- - - “To defend the oppressed, - To fight for the defenceless, - Not counting the cost.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -NEWCASTLE PRISON: MY SECOND IMPRISONMENT - - -The next morning, Monday, October 11, we got up early, with a sense -of excitement that we were to be “tried.” We were allowed to wash in -a basin arrangement all together. The water was cold, but clean and -fresh. The roll towel was horrible, I have never seen anything so -dirty--blood had freely been wiped upon it. Nothing could surpass the -kindness and civility of the wardresses. One, who thought only of the -hunger-strike, cried as we left. We were then led off to the cells -upstairs, which were rather cleaner and much lighter. A man came to -mend something outside my window; it was open and I could see out by -two or three square inches. He looked in at me with great curiosity, -but without ill-will. I had the policeman’s pencil still, and wrote -on a paper to hand up to him that he should not be afraid of the -Suffragettes, but help them to get the vote. I was still thinking about -it when the police began to rattle the keys, so I refrained, although -it was some time before they came to fetch me. - -They led us forth to the other side of the building where the court -was. We waited in a passage underneath it, and were led up in turns to -the prisoner’s box. The others, who had done nothing but break glass, -were sentenced to the 3rd Division and hard labour for fourteen days, -and some a month, without any option. Mrs. Brailsford and I were both -given the alternative of being bound in money sureties for a year. -In reality, this offered us no alternative, but in the estimation of -the magistrate, I, who had done deliberately most harm, was given the -option of going free, while the others, who were many of them younger -than I was, first offenders and all had done much less damage than I -had, were prisoners beyond their recall. - -When it was my turn, I was prepared for the three charges I had seen -on the paper the day before. First came the charge of assault on Sir -Walter Runciman. I said that I did not know it was Sir Walter Runciman -in the car, and that I threw the stone low down, so that it should not -hit the chauffeur or anyone. They did not take up this charge. Then -came the charge of damage, at which I was well pleased. But the man -facing the magistrate, the clerk, who conducts most of the affairs in -several courts I have been into, would not let this charge come on. -He said that I had evidently not intended the damage to the car, and -that part of the case was dismissed. I tried to tell him that I had no -concern for the motor-car, and, though I didn’t know how a stone so -small could have done so much harm, I was not in the least concerned -over the £4 worth of damage, but he would not let me speak and passed -on to the third charge, “disorderly behaviour in a public place.” I put -in, with a loud voice, “My disorderly behaviour of throwing a stone -with violence in a public place was deliberate and intentional.” After -this, they could not but go on with it, since the whole court had heard -what I had said. They apparently treated me as a lunatic, and began to -ask if it was through not knowing what I was doing that I had thrown a -stone? “If I had not known what I was about to do, I should not have -held a stone in my hand,” I answered. - -I had made up my mind, at one time of the trial, that I would deny the -tales that had circulated about the Suffragettes and Mr. Lloyd George’s -children. It had been said that we tried to kidnap them, that we had -wished for their illness, and all kinds of invented evil. Who are the -Suffragettes that they should make war on children? If the child of Mr. -Lloyd George were ill or in any way suffering, we were sorry, we were -sympathetic, as with every other child, and we were sad for him as the -loving father of that child. I tried to speak, when I first was called -on, and repeatedly afterwards, but I was always stopped and could -get no innings. Finally, the magistrates convicted me of “disorderly -behaviour with intent to disturb the peace,” and bound me over, -myself in the sum of £50 and two sureties of £25 each, to be enforced -for twelve months; in default, one month’s imprisonment in the 2nd -Division. I, of course, had no option of finding sureties for twelve -months, and was sentenced to the month’s imprisonment. My companion, -Miss Davison, was dismissed, as she had literally done nothing. - -Mrs. Brailsford, who had struck at the barricade with an axe, was also -given the option of being bound over, which she, of course, refused, -with the alternative of a month’s imprisonment in the 2nd Division. She -had not, as I had, committed any offence before. She was a splendid -woman who had gone out to help with the Macedonian relief fund in -1903. She had fed the hungry and nursed the sick and wounded until she -contracted typhus fever. The whole “trial” was unworthy of the name--it -was a device whereby Mrs. Brailsford and I should be separated from the -others and treated with more respect, I having been the only one to do -a glaring act and an, apparently, harmful or greatly risky one. The -others, without exception, were treated to the 3rd Division. - -We were put again into a van, but had only a short way to drive. -We were shown into a passage of the prison where the governor came -and spoke to us. He was very civil, and begged us not to go on the -hunger-strike. Then the Matron came, a charming and very refined woman, -who walked with a stick, being lame. Miss Davison had headed our -little band of twelve; when she was dismissed, Miss Dorothy Pethick, -Mrs. Pethick Lawrence’s youngest sister, was our head and spoke for -us. Her face had all the beauty that freshness, youth and grace could -give it, and with it all for her age--she was twenty-seven--there was -a wonderful strength about it. She spoke civilly to the Governor, but -in a very determined way. He could not do enough for us. “Don’t break -your windows--please don’t break your windows.” “We will not break -them if they can open. You must understand that we have come here, not -to please ourselves; we have pleaded for windows to open in the cells -through two years in vain. Now we break the glass to make more sure. It -is for the poor things who are shut up in these little cells for weeks -and months at a time. Whether they know it or not, their bodies know -it--it is all that is bad for them to sleep and live in a room supposed -to be ventilated, without a window, and to be given a book telling them -elaborately how a window may be kept open in all weathers by placing a -board in front of it on a slant, will not make things any better. And -what is more, if you feed us by force, we shall break every window we -can lay hands on.” “Very well,” said the Governor, “choose your own -cells; come round and see.” Then, with the Governor and Matron, we -went round. Several cells were shown to us. We were left in some that -were small but new--the windows did not open. Finally, Mrs. Brailsford -and I were taken to different cells on the ground floor where we were -separated completely from the others. We were allowed to have our doors -open all the time, and some iron gates only shut us in. Compared with -Holloway, their good manners made a great difference, but the kindness -about the cells was mostly put on; at least, they had not windows -that opened, so they could do little. Mrs. Brailsford and I had cells -next door to each other, we spoke together frequently all day. The -wardresses were dear northern women, affectionate in their ways. The -Matron we found to be even more charming than she looked. She took Mrs. -Brailsford and me for exercise, and we talked to her nearly the whole -time. She was quite a Suffragette and understood our rebellion. - -There was no attempt to put us into prison clothes; we had small -packages of things with us. My underclothes were not all that one -could wish after two days and nights in the police-station cells. They -were amongst other things covered with fleas, and I had at my trial, -and on various occasions, become exceedingly hot, which, now that the -hunger-strike had begun, was exchanged for extreme cold. The prospect -of a month in them as they were was extremely undesirable. I wrote to -the Home Secretary, as I was told this was the only means, but I knew -that anything I asked for from him might as well be let alone. - -The first day, Tuesday, was fairly fine. At exercise in the morning -we looked around and we noticed some broken glass windows. We shouted -“Votes for Women, Hurrah! Hurrah!” but were not sure of any response. -They had put our companions, of two days before us, into the punishment -cells. We were scarcely back in our cells before there were hasty -footsteps; they slammed our doors shut, we could only dimly hear the -steps as they passed our cells and then above. Soon after we heard -shrieks, always coming from the same direction. It seemed as if the -others were being fed by force. During about half an hour the sounds -were terrible. Then the doctors, two of them, came to us. They had on -white jackets, as if they had just come from an operation, as indeed -they had. I said to them, “You have been feeding our friends by force?” -One of them answered, “Well, yes, we were bound to have a food trial -with one or two of them.” They felt my pulse, first one, then the -other; they felt it over again, then they went out. Mrs. Brailsford and -I discussed the feeding of our friends, which had sounded most awful; -we did not know what to do. We had, of course, not touched any food -since our breakfast in the police-station cells. We ourselves had met -with nothing but kindness. - -The knotting in my stomach from lack of food was fairly painful by the -second night. Whenever I fell asleep I woke with my knees curled under -my chin. I had also a great aching in my back, probably through fatigue -and the plank bed in the police-station. The night wardress was very -kind to me. I asked once if she couldn’t come in and rub my back just a -little. “Why, my dear, the gate’s locked and I have nae got the key.” -Mrs. Brailsford said she felt well in every way, save that she could do -nothing but think of the other prisoners who were being fed by force. -When we walked round the exercise yard on Wednesday morning it was -snowing hard. It made me think of Robert Buchanan’s poem, “The Ballade -of Judas Iscariot.” - - “’Twas the wedding guests cried out within, - And their eyes were fierce and bright-- - ‘Scourge the soul of Judas Iscariot - Away into the night!’ - - “The Bridegroom stood in the open door, - And he waved hands still and slow, - And the third time that he waved his hands - The air was thick with snow. - - “And of every flake of falling snow - Before it touched the ground, - There came a dove, and a thousand doves - Made sweet doves’ sound. - - “’Twas the body of Judas Iscariot - Floated away full fleet, - And the wings of the dove that bore it off - Were like its winding-sheet. - - “’Twas the Bridegroom stood at the open door - And beckon’d, smiling sweet; - ’Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot - Stole in, and fell at his feet.” - -As I looked upon that dreary scene I saw the prison walls, the cell -windows, looking more like tiny shutters, the infinitesimal small -windows of the punishment cells in the ground below where we were. The -Matron stood on a ledge above us. She was considerate and kind in all -her ways. We were either alone and quite unguarded or else she was with -us. One evening, when a wardress was letting me back into my cell, I -heard the most melancholy sound of a woman calling out to herself again -and again, in a tone of uttermost misery. As always, I thought, in a -prison, no one answered her, no one said anything. Presently there came -the Matron’s consoling voice. Very gently I heard it on the floor above -ours, it sounded almost like a mother’s voice: “Oh! there is that poor -woman again. Can’t you some of you go and comfort her?” And some one -did, for all was quiet after that. I watched at my gate all day, and -was pleased to notice that the prisoners who worked outside the cells -moved happily, ran about with a springing step and seemed like ordinary -servants about their work. How different this was from Holloway! - -The first morning the Chaplain came to visit me. He was a -pleasant-looking man, with a fine beard. He laughed as he told me he -was the father of fifteen children; he said this as he left. I longed -to tell him I hoped that he had had at least two wives to bring them -into the world! - -The second morning, Wednesday, October 13, when the doctors came, I -stood in the corner of my cell with my arms crossed and my fingers -caught in my nostrils and my mouth. It was the best position I knew -of for them not to be able to feed me by nose or mouth without having -first a considerable struggle. They came, and after I saw that they had -no tube I came out from my corner and let them both look at my heart. -They thumped, each of them in turn, and felt my pulse as well. Then -they appeared to be agreed and went out. I said to them, “You seemed -to be puzzled by my heart; I can tell you about it if you like.” But -they had made up their minds about something, and did not want any help -from me. Later in the day they came in again with another man in their -company. I was again in the corner, my hands in my mouth and nose, but -they brought no feeding things. At first I thought the third man was -another prison official; but soon, from the way they talked to him, I -gathered that he was an outside doctor, apparently from London. He was -very civil. He tapped my heart repeatedly and then brought out a tube, -which at first I thought was a feeding tube, but it was only another -way of testing the heart. He was about a quarter of an hour or twenty -minutes over the whole thing, then they went out. - -As I had no answer from the Home Office, though I had written on the -Monday of my arrival in the prison, I thought I would begin to wash -some of my things, as the doctors would not come back unless to feed -me, and that would be nearer six o’clock. I washed my brush and a -few other things in the large pail of my cell, then asked if I might -empty it, and as I did this, I held the things some seconds under the -tap. It was only cold water, of course, but I was glad of even that. -I then put them on the chair to dry as best they might, and lay down -on my plank bed, for the pain in my back was terrible, when a wardress -came in and announced that I was released, because of the state of my -heart! Though this was fairly evident from the visit of the outside -doctor, I had not realised it. I gathered my things together and went -out. I called to Mrs. Brailsford; she was released too. We were put -to wait in the Governor’s room; he was not there. We wondered if we -were the only two to be released, and if so, why not the others? How -about the heart of Nurse Pitman, who was close on sixty, or of Miss -Brown, who had only just been released from a recent hunger-strike! -Mrs. Brailsford had seen a doctor before she came on this expedition -to Newcastle, and he had declared her absolutely sound in every way, -so we did not know why she was released, except for the fact that she -was, through her husband, closely connected with Liberal journalism and -herself had the noblest reputation for public service in Macedonia. I -had heart disease, though only slightly; it had been marked in me since -the Deputation on which I had been to the House of Commons, at the -beginning of this year. But I was not in so bad a condition as either -Nurse Pitman or Miss Brown. After a time the news came that we were -the only two released! Poor Mrs. Brailsford was so overcome at this -news that she was unable to drink the glass of hot milk that was given -to us before we were let out. The Governor came back to his room. He -had always told us how keen he was for the vote, and he seemed very -glad for us that we were to be released. The cab was ready and we drove -away, I think at about 3.30 in the afternoon. It seemed appalling to go -and to leave the others in prison, to the hunger-strike and to forcible -feeding. - -Nurse Pitman and Miss Brown were released the next day. It was not -possible to understand for what reason they should have been kept -twenty-four hours longer on hunger-strike than Mrs. Brailsford and -myself; the only reason that we could see was that our names were -known, theirs were not! - -The only thing which made an impression on me, not told in the above, -was that once the wardress led me out to one of the lavatories. Just in -front of it a woman had been sick, and I was taken away to another. It -showed the great loneliness of prison life. There, in rows thickly set -all around me, were the cells, in each a prisoner. One had been taken -out immediately before I had, but she was put back and all the cells -were locked before I came. The mystery was intense, the silence, the -loneliness as great as they could be. - -My sister, Betty Balfour, came from Scotland to see if she could do -anything to help me when she heard that I was in prison. She was -convinced that I should not be forcibly fed because of the state -of my heart, but that I should be let out after a day or two of -hunger-strike. It was delightful to be with her, and the next day we -travelled south together to my home. - -In December I went to speak at Glasgow, and Dr. Marion Gilchrist -listened to my heart. This was her verdict: “I have examined Lady -Constance Lytton’s heart and find she has a chronic valvular lesion, -but it is acting well in spite of the fact that she has just undergone -great exertion.” She said it was easily understood why I had been let -out of Newcastle Prison. - - - - -[Illustration: Jane Warton] - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -JANE WARTON - - “Under a Government which imprisons any unjustly, the true place for a - just man (or woman) is also a prison.” - - -I was sent to Liverpool and Manchester to join in working an -Anti-Government campaign during a General Election in January, 1910. -Just before I went, there came the news of the barbarous ill-treatment -of Miss Selina Martin and Miss Leslie Hall, while on remand in Walton -Gaol. They had been refused bail, and, while awaiting their trial, -their friends were not allowed to communicate with them. This is -contrary to law and precedent for prisoners on remand. As a protest -they had started a hunger-strike. They were fed by force, in answer to -which they broke the windows of their cells. They were put in irons -for days and nights together, and one of them was frog-marched in the -most brutal fashion to and from the room where the forcible feeding was -performed. These facts they made known to their friends at the police -court on the day of their trial. - -I heard, too, of another prisoner in Liverpool, Miss Bertha Brewster, -who had been re-arrested after her release from prison, and charged -with breaking the windows of her prison cell, which she had done as a -protest against being fed by force. She had been punished for this -offence while in prison. She did not respond to the summons, and when -arrested on a warrant, three and a half months later, she was sentenced -to six weeks’ hard labour for this offence. - -I felt a great wish to be in Liverpool, if possible, to get public -opinion in that town to protest against such treatment of women -political prisoners. If I failed in this, I determined myself to share -the fate of these women. - -When I was in Manchester, Mary Gawthorpe was ill with the internal -complaint which has since obliged her to give up work. She saw me in -her room one day. We had been distressed beyond words to hear of the -sufferings of Selina Martin and Leslie Hall. Mary Gawthorpe said, with -tears in her eyes, as she threw her arms round me: “Oh, and these are -women quite unknown--nobody knows or cares about them except their -own friends. They go to prison again and again to be treated like -this, until it kills them!” That was enough. My mind was made up. -The altogether shameless way I had been preferred against the others -at Newcastle, except Mrs. Brailsford who shared with me the special -treatment, made me determine to try whether they would recognise my -need for exceptional favours without my name. - -Our meetings were always crowded and enthusiastic, especially in -Manchester. This was my first experience of meetings in a really -poverty-stricken district. I never shall forget one in the Salford -Division of Manchester. A small room was packed as close as it would -hold of the poorest working women. How eagerly and intelligently they -listened, and what a wonderful light came into their eyes as the hope -dawned in their minds: “Can it be that Parliament would really begin -to think of _us_ and attend to _our_ interests?” All their questions -were to the point and practical. How different was the atmosphere -from that of the typical drawing-room meeting, where many women came -together with the remark: “I am all for _propertied_ women having the -vote,” but their fear is lest the electorate should be flooded with -working women voters. I have never yet been asked by a working-class -woman whether our Bill, to give votes to women for the same reason as -men have it, would not give undue power to propertied women. That is -a man’s question, though often taken over by women of the leisured -or professional class who identify themselves with the objections of -theoretic politicians. To the working-class women the matter presents -itself easily and naturally, as it actually is--a woman’s question, -not a class question. To have their right to labour unrestricted, -their protection controlled by themselves, their economic position -independent and on the straightforward footing of being judged by its -value and by that alone; their property, earnings, and their persons -to be defended by law, and their right over their children to be -acknowledged by law. In fact, their freedom as human beings, their full -recognition as equal members of the community with men--that is how -the Votes-for-Women question appeals to them. They see it neither as a -party question nor as a class question. - -Suddenly I had my opportunity. The Press and the people in each -different constituency were entirely engrossed with the elections. -Up till now, protest meetings were being held by our Union every -week outside Walton Gaol, Liverpool. These were not held during the -elections, but I told the Liverpool organiser, Miss Flatman, and the -general organiser, Mrs. Jennie Baines, that if they would have one more -of these protest meetings on Friday, January 14, it was my intention -to go in disguise, call upon the crowd to follow me to the Governor’s -house, and insist upon the release of the Suffrage prisoners who had -been tortured by forcible feeding. It was not our wont to do any -militancy or to hold any protest meetings during election time, that -being a time, as it were, when no Government is in, but it seemed to -me that this was the opportunity to make the Governor of the prison -responsible. It was a case of nothing less than cruelty and did not -specially concern, unless they chose to back it up, the Government. - -I joined the W.S.P.U. again, filling up the membership card as Miss -Jane Warton. The choice of a name had been easy. When I came out of -Holloway Prison, a distant relative, by name Mr. F. Warburton, wrote -me an appreciative letter, thanking me for having been a prisoner in -this cause. I determined that if it were necessary to go to prison -under another name, I should take the name of Warburton. When I went -to Newcastle, my family raised no objection. Now nobody was to know of -my disguise, but Warburton was too distinguished a name; that would -at once attract attention. I must leave out the “bur” and make it -“Warton.” “Jane” was the name of Joan of Arc (for Jeanne is more often -translated into “Jane” than “Joan”) and would bring me comfort in -distress. A family sympathetic to our cause, who lived in the suburb -near Walton Gaol, were informed that a keen member, Miss Warton, would -call at their house in the afternoon before the protest meeting, -to investigate the outside of the gaol and the Governor’s house by -daylight, and that she was ready to be arrested if she could not obtain -the release of the prisoners. - -I spent the previous day and night in Manchester where no one knew -of my intentions. In the afternoon, at a drawing-room meeting, I was -introduced, after I had spoken, to a woman who was a factory inspector. -She had very often to attend in the police courts. She said to me: “I -think it is impossible to attend these cases, and hear the other cases -while you wait, and not be a convert to votes for women if you were not -one before. The other day a man and two women were had up before the -magistrate. They had been found in the street, the man and one woman -had been cohabiting together, the other woman mounted guard. The case -was quite clear, and the facts were not denied, the man had bribed the -women. The man was let free, the two women were sent to prison. If -women had the vote such things could not be; in those countries where -women have the vote they get altered in less than a year.” - -In the evening we went to a meeting in a large hall. It was full of -working men and working women; it looked as if there were not room to -move, so crowded were the seats and gangways. They were tremendously -enthusiastic, many of them shook me by the hand, and the thought of -them remained for a long time in my heart. - -The next morning I took leave of my two kind hostesses. Their last -injunction to me was, the agitation of my impending task having -affected my appetite, “You should eat more; mind you eat more.” - -I accomplished my disguise in Manchester, going to a different shop for -every part of it, for safety’s sake. I had noticed several times while -I was in prison that prisoners of unprepossessing appearance obtained -least favour, so I was determined to put ugliness to the test. I had my -hair cut short and parted, in early Victorian fashion, in smooth bands -down the side of my face. This, combined with the resentful bristles of -my newly-cut back hair, produced a curious effect. I wished to bleach -my hair as well, but the hairdresser refused point-blank to do this, -and the stuff that I bought for the purpose at a chemist’s proved quite -ineffective. A tweed hat, a long green cloth coat, which I purchased -for 8_s._ 6_d._, a woollen scarf and woollen gloves, a white silk -neck-kerchief, a pair of pince-nez spectacles, a purse, a net-bag to -contain some of my papers, and my costume was complete. I had removed -my own initials from my underclothing, and bought the ready-made -initials “J. W.” to sew on in their stead, but to my regret I had not -time to achieve this finishing touch. - -All this sounds simple enough, but I suppose it was due to my -preoccupation of mind that I have never known a day’s shopping fraught -with such complications and difficulties. At the frowzy little -hairdresser’s shop, the only one that seemed to me inconspicuous enough -for so important a part of my disguise, the attendant was busy, and I -had to return in an hour’s time. I told him that I was going a journey -and wanted the hair short, since that would be less trouble. He cut -it off. Then I wanted what remained to be worn in a parting, with the -hair falling straight on either side. This part of the process was most -absurd, for that way of wearing my hair was obviously disfiguring to -me. “Ah! now that looks very becoming,” said the hairdresser, and with -that I left the shop in haste. - -The eye-glasses I had first bought made me feel giddy from the quality -of the lens. I had to take them back and have the glasses changed to -the weakest possible. At the first place, in spite of all my protests, -the shopman insisted on elaborately testing my sight, afterwards -requiring me to wait for half an hour or so while he fitted up the -glasses. So I went to another shop, and in self-defence invented the -story that the glasses were for stage purposes, for a friend of mine -who had very good sight, and that if she was not to trip up in her part -the glasses must be as nearly plain as possible. This time I was more -successful with the lens, but the grip of the folders was still galling -to the very large bridge of my nose. - -When I had finished this errand I was startled to see walking along -the street one of my kind hostesses, whom I had parted from early -that morning, professedly to return to Liverpool without delay. I took -refuge down a side-street until she had passed by. Then I had strayed -into the more opulent quarters of Manchester, in my search for another -spectacle shop. All the shops were of a high-class order, and Jane -Warton could find nothing to her requirements. On inquiry for a “cheap” -draper, three different people recommended me to a certain shop named -“Lewis.” A sale was on there and Jane found that it was the very place -for her. So many Miss Wartons were of the same mind that the street -was blocked with customers for some distance down; but I was obliged -to wait, for no other shop was of the same description. The hat was a -special difficulty; every article of millinery was of the fashionable -order, warranted to cover half the body as well as the head. This -did not suit Jane. Finally she succeeded in getting the right one of -stitched cloth, with a plait of cloth round the crown. Before leaving -Manchester I realised that my ugly disguise was a success. I was an -object of the greatest derision to street-boys, and shop-girls could -hardly keep their countenances while serving me. - -I had done my shopping at last, and hurried off to the station. I took -out my box, put in it my own hat and jacket, put on the label “Miss -Jane Warton, Cloak Room,” and left it there. In the refreshment room, -where I went to take a last hurried meal, a delightful big, brown dog, -a mongrel, came and talked to me. He was with a party of two men and a -woman, who sat at a distant corner of the room. The dog came up to me -at once; he put his head on my lap and was most dear. - -After this I got into the train. I finished a letter to my mother, -telling her of yesterday’s meetings and that I might not write to her -for some little time because of being so busy with the elections. - -Arrived at Liverpool, and not knowing my way to Walton, I took a cab -and drove out for nearly an hour before reaching my destination. I was -already racing hard with daylight and, thanks to a damp fog, it was -already quite dark when I arrived there. - -The house to which I had been directed was in a new quarter and nowhere -to be found. We drove up and down the roads and inquired at shops -and post offices. Presently I spotted the familiar sight of a woman -stooping to chalk on the pavement some announcement--it was our protest -meeting. I felt happy again, it was like seeing a friend. She turned -out to be one of the daughters of the very house I was seeking. There -were three daughters who lived with their mother. The daughters were -zealots and welcomed Jane without a sign of criticism. I saw the mother -gasp a little when I entered her drawing-room, but she was nevertheless -most courteous and kind. - -I was escorted to the gaol and took my bearings. To anyone who has -been in prison, few things, I think, are more exasperating than the -unrevealing face of the outer walls. On this occasion I felt an -overmastering longing to inquire after the prisoners who had stirred -me to my coming deed. What was the degree of their suffering and -exhaustion? What should I be able to do for their release? If by some -miracle I obtained it, would it be too late to help them? I thought -more especially of Miss Selina Martin. I had seen her in Birmingham a -fortnight after her release from the weeks that she had been fed in the -prison there. She was in the nursing home, together with Mrs. Leigh, -that splendid fighter for the women’s cause and most heroic woman. -Their look of illness haunted me still. The idea that Selina Martin was -again, perhaps at that very moment, undergoing the same cruel treatment -exasperated me. I felt so feeble, had so little faith in the utility of -what I was about to do, yet I was athirst to do it, and the strength of -my wish that it should be effective made me feel, at moments, capable -of anything. But to all this the prison walls had nothing to say. They -revealed nothing. They looked angry with all the world, angry above all -because of an uneasy conscience. - -I returned to the house of my friends, selected from their garden -small, flat stones in case of need, which I wrapped in paper, and -snatched a hasty meal. My kind hostess had heard that I was a -vegetarian, and had provided a most appetising dish of stewed white -pears. My mouth was parched with the weary work of the day and the -thought of what lay before me, but I had no time except to taste the -pears; the memory of them during the hunger-strike filled my dreams. - -Again we set out for the prison. All through the day I had been dogged -by the nightmare thought that I should be too late for the meeting, or -for some other reason should be prevented from achieving my purpose. -As we neared the place, a crowd of between two and three hundred men -and women were following the carriage in which were our speakers. -It had been agreed that I should mix with the crowd, not join with -the speakers, but at the end of the meeting should have my say from -below. I passed the carriage to report myself to the organisers. Many -of our members were standing around, but I think most of them did not -recognise me, except from my voice later on. - -Miss Flatman, Miss Patricia Woodlock and Mrs. Baines made stirring -speeches, but the crowd had mostly gathered out of curiosity and -were not many of them likely to listen to my coming appeal. I was -afraid lest they should disperse before I had my chance, so I rudely -interrupted Mrs. Baines and spoke from the outer rim of the crowd, on -the side of the Governor’s house. - -I reminded the audience of how the men of Dundee, when forcible feeding -of Suffrage prisoners was threatened in that town, had assembled to -the number of two thousand and protested against it. How thereupon -the hunger-strikers had been released and no forcible feeding to our -women had been inflicted in Scotland. Could not Englishmen have done -the same? Let the men of Liverpool be the first to wipe out the stain -that had been tolerated up till now. We were outside the gaol where -these and other barbarities were actually going on. The Home Secretary -had denied responsibility and asserted that it rested with the prison -officials. Let us put this to the test and call upon the Governor of -the prison to release these women. No violence was needed, but let us -go to his house, insist upon his replying to our request and refuse to -be dispersed until he had released these women. “If there are no men -in Liverpool who will stand up for these prisoners, let the women do -their part--I call on you all to follow me to the Governor’s house.” -With this I turned towards the house, a separate building surrounded by -a little garden. To my surprise, the crowd began to follow me. Again I -shouted out to them--“No violence, remember, but call for the Governor -and refuse to be dispersed till you have secured the release of the -prisoners.” - -A policeman began leisurely to follow me; there were only two or -three of them about. I took to running and urged on the crowd. The -police then took hold of me. As for once it was my object above all -else to get arrested and imprisoned, I began discharging my stones, -not throwing them, but limply dropping them over the hedge into the -Governor’s garden. One of them just touched the shoulder of a man who -had rushed up on seeing me arrested. I apologised to him. Two policemen -then held me fast by the arms and marched me off to the police station. -The crowd followed excitedly, and our members gathered round me, -appealing for my release and saying that I had done nothing. - -It had been agreed with the organisers that I should be the only one -arrested. As I have said, militant tactics were in abeyance because of -the elections, the less disturbance was made, therefore, the better; -as it was, I feared lest my action, being out of the straight course, -should be displeasing to the leaders. I said to the other members: “I -am all right, don’t bother about me, but take the crowd back to the -Governor’s house.” I did not wish to be recognised. - -As they marched me off at a great pace, the police, who were very civil -and considerate, questioned me: “What was you a-doin’? You weren’t in -the carriage with the others, were you? What was that you was sayin’?” -They knew they would have to make up a charge against me, and wisely -thought the best plan was to ask me direct for information! I told them -that I made towards the Governor’s house, appealed to the crowd to -follow, and refused to desist when called upon by the police. I feared -that this might not be enough to achieve a conviction. I was thinking, -“Was there nothing else?” when the man appeared whose shoulder had been -touched by my stone; he carried the missile in his hand, still wrapped -in the purple hand-bill announcing this very meeting, no doubt a most -evil-looking document in the eyes of the authorities. I knew then that -I was safe. - -Presently, two others who had been arrested were brought in. It was a -most unlooked-for consolation to have their company through the night, -though I hoped, of course, that they would be let off and not share the -rest of the ordeal with me. Two of the members, on hearing my voice, -determined that I should not be alone, so they returned, and one of -them poked a flag through a window in the Governor’s house, breaking -the glass; the other mounted guard while she did this. They were both -arrested. One was Miss Elsie Howey, a valiant as well as most dear one -of our members; the other was a local member, who gave the name of Mrs. -Nugent. I had twice stayed with her and her husband when at Liverpool. -She was not only most charming, but also of attractive appearance, -which awoke a great deal of curiosity in the police as to her identity, -and luckily drew off all possible suspicions from me. - -We all played up to the situation; Elsie Howey and I treated her with -deference, as a person of great importance; we nicknamed her “the -Princess.” - -The police were exceptionally friendly to us, although they were -punctilious as to the regulations. For instance, Miss Howey and I were -suffering from bad colds and had eucalyptus inhalers in our pockets. We -were not allowed to keep these; they were removed with other things, -such as a purse, stylo pen, brooches, watch, etc. We were all three -allowed to be together and away from other prisoners, locked into a -cell of the usual police-station description--that is, unfurnished -but for the bare plank, serving as seat or bed, along the wall, and -about one and a-half feet from the ground, terminating in a lavatory -accommodation under a high-barred window, but now lighted by an -electric light in the wall above the door. This cell was scrupulously -clean and blankets were supplied to us. Our friends sent us some -sandwiches and fruit, and the police themselves provided us with an -evening newspaper. - -We had been arrested at about 8 o’clock; the police station was some -distance from Walton, so it was getting on for 9 o’clock when we were -at last shut up after the charges were reported and entered, and we had -been stripped by a wardress of our small belongings. - -The quick walk from the scene of our arrest, hurried along between two -policemen, had been a warming process, after which the cold in the -cell seemed intense. The bench being wider than most in police-station -cells, Mrs. Nugent lay down at one end, while Elsie Howey and I lay -side by side under the same blanket and warmed each other. Mrs. Nugent -and Elsie kept up an animated conversation. Elsie told anecdotes of her -former imprisonments and those of the fellow-prisoners. I was short of -breath and fearfully tired, so I rolled round and kept quite quiet. - -At about 12 o’clock the husband of Mrs. Nugent had heard of her arrest, -and came off to the police station to see her. He came to the door of -our cell and was greatly distressed. It was ever so nice to see him. -His visit had caused a great deal of concern amongst the police, who -recognised him as one of the magistrates. He put himself out to do what -he could, and we offered him the comforting news that we were almost -sure that his wife would get off, as she had done nothing at all. With -that, as his wife was kept standing at the little window so long as he -was there, he felt obliged to leave us. - -Towards about 3 a.m. we were taken out of the cell and ranged along a -seat by the wall of a large room; at the other end was a desk with a -policeman sitting at it. We went up in turn to give our names, ages, -etc., that is, about seven or eight other prisoners, all females, and -our three selves. It was the turn of Jane Warton. She walked across -to the policeman, one shoulder hitched slightly above the other, -her hair sticking out straight behind and worn in slick bandeaus on -either side of her face, her hat trailing in a melancholy way on her -head. The large, grey woollen gloves were drawn up over the too short -sleeves of her coat; on the collar of it were worn portraits of Mrs. -Pankhurst, Mrs. Lawrence and Christabel, in small china brooches; her -hat had a bit of tape with “Votes for Women” written on it, interlaced -with the cloth plait that went round it, and eye-glasses were fixed on -her nose. Her standing out in the room was the signal for a convulsed -titter from the other prisoners. “It’s a shame to laugh at one of -your fellow-prisoners,” said the policeman behind the desk, and the -tittering was hushed. It was all I could do not to laugh, and I thought -to myself “Is the _Punch_ version of a Suffragette overdone?” As I -got back to my companions they too were laughing, but I thought it -wonderfully kind of the policeman to have spoken on my behalf. - -When this process was finished, we three Suffragettes were taken to the -policemen’s room, where there was a good fire, to wait for our Black -Maria. The other prisoners had disappeared. The police sat round and -spoke quite pleasantly; there were two or three of them at times. We -discussed the chances of women getting the vote, they seemed quite in -favour. Elsie Howey and Mrs. Nugent did most of the talking. I warmed -myself and saw the police looking at me from time to time, wondering -why I did not talk too. - -At about 3.30 a.m. or 4 o’clock, Black Maria came and we were put in. -This was different from the prison vans I had hitherto seen; it was not -broken up into separate cell-like compartments, but was in the form of -a double omnibus, one side for men and the other for women, divided by -a thin wooden partition, each side having two seats facing each other -and extending the length of the carriage. There were no windows; the -light filtered in only through the grated ventilators. When we got into -this Black Maria there was no one but us three, but we were told to sit -near the door, so Mrs. Nugent sat first, then Elsie Howey, and then -myself. The jolting of the van is excessive and suggests a complete -absence of springs, the noise of its passage through the streets is -terrific, to the point of excluding all other sounds--a noise of -thundering wheels, of jolts and jars and bumps. I have not yet made out -the reason why 3.30 a.m. was selected, none was given at the time to -the prisoners. - -Our destination was the Bridewell Police Station, but we called on -our way at the other police stations in the town, picking up whatever -unfortunates they had netted during the night. We called at four -different stations, if I remember right. The drive in all took about an -hour, and seemed a very long one. - -We had not gone far before the rumbling and jolting ceased, the door -was thrown open with a sound of keys and great rattling, a shaft of -light fell along the ’bus, and lit up momentarily ourselves and those -who were thrown in to add to our number. These were the only moments -when the occupants had a chance of seeing each other. The door then -hastily closed again, darkness, jolting and noise reasserted their grim -influence. Drunken voices, the smell of the gin palace, an occasional -query and reply shouted through the thin wall to the men on the -other side, that was all. Knee to knee, and breath to breath we sat, -companions of this world of darkness, fellow-sisters of the order of -the outcasts. Before we had finished, we had taken up six women in all. - -At the first stop, two Irish girls were let in; some men were put into -the other side. The girls were only sufficiently drunk to make them -intensely cheerful; they laughed and talked gaily at first and shouted -lustily to their companions on the other side. But the effect of the -pitch darkness was depressing, and after a time their communications -ceased. They sat opposite to us near the door, and whenever there was -a gleam of light I watched them, for they gave me immense pleasure. -They were quite young, with beautiful arms, which one could see as -their sleeves were rolled up; they had shawls on, and their faces were -fresh and strong, and pretty, too, had it not been for the effect of -the drink; they were as far removed as possible from the degraded town -type, in every way they were healthy specimens, fresh from an Irish -fishing village. They spoke to us several times, and there was a -delightful feeling that disguise or no disguise did not matter with -them, but it was difficult to hear what they said in the fearful noise -of the Black Maria, and we felt that our answers were mostly lost on -them. They put the question in a friendly way: “What did you get taken -up for?” “We’re Suffragettes,” was the all-sufficient reply. This was -very interesting, and they had to try to tell the men on the other -side, with many a laugh, as a tremendous bit of news. - -At another stop, a little woman got in with fair hair, a fluttering -white boa, and in a white dress. She was dead drunk, but whereas -the others smelt of cheap drink, her breath was of good brandy. She -laughed, and now and then gave vent to a half sentence or two that -rolled in and out of her sleep. - -At the next stop, two were shot in who seemed really deformed with -poverty, their complexions yellow, their hands gnarled and worn, their -faces of utmost sadness. They said something to each other as they got -in--something to give comfort, but their sentences were full of oaths -of a senseless kind, and their speech, too, was broken with drink. - -Finally, it was another type altogether who was let in. A woman who -looked any age, her face of utmost melancholy had yet the appearance -of having drunk heavily; she had all the hang of an “habitual,” her -clothes were the dregs of clothes and tumbling off her. When the door -was opened for her to be put in, she murmured a few broken words to -the effect that her salvation didn’t lie in prison. - -The Irish girls and the little woman with the white boa were young, the -others looked old and worn out. - -I think I shall never forget the self-reproach that stung through my -whole being when I had thought my intervention necessary between one -prisoner and another. On passing some unusual light in the street, -which momentarily lit up our van, not enough to see our faces but only -to distinguish the outlines of forms, I noticed that the prisoner -opposite to Elsie Howey, my neighbour, was leaning forward and bent -towards her. The momentary flash of light was too short-lived to -judge whether this was a rapid movement perhaps, as I thought, of -assault or drunken affection, or whether it was that the position of -physical weariness could find no rest from leaning back on the walls -of the jolting van. I was unable to see Elsie, but I imagined that -she too might be scared by the attention of the prisoner opposite. As -the darkness closed in upon us, I thrust my hand into hers; it was -welcomed, but quite unnecessary. Before the end of our drive two things -were clear--the prisoners might be evil-minded towards all the rest of -the world, they might be blind drunk or raging with misery at their own -plight, but the one thing impossible to them would have been to hurt -a fellow-prisoner. Every one of those pathetic human wrecks, deformed -by drink, so that one could not tell if they were guilty of crime -besides, overtaken at a moment when their self-respect was lowest, and -captured by a punitive system which would do its utmost to dissolve -what remained of it, as they were thrust into the black cavity of the -van, made a vigorous appeal to their own courage and met with instant -response from their unknown companions. It might be only some drunken -joke, it was almost invariably accompanied by a laugh, but for each -one it had a call on their inmost strength, and it made its appeal to -those in the van. Issuing from different spheres of existence, each one -representing lives the most remote from one another, scarcely any two -alike in a single respect as to detail, their one point of similarity -being poverty and that they had given way to drink, the instinct of our -first contact, doubtless to each one of us, was repulsion, mistrust, -fear of one another. But it lasted for less than the flash of a moment, -less than the inhaling of one breath. Our differences were there, -but for the time unimportant, whereas the all-embracing fact was our -similarity of fate. No need for social laws to bind that company, no -rules of the club were necessary, the code of instinct, expediency and -honour were all one and spontaneous to us. “We are all of one blood,” -may be a great tie, but “We are all of one fate” is, while it lasts, a -better; the bond of the outcast needs no seal. - -We arrived for the fifth time in a courtyard, with a deal of jolting -and din; it was the Bridewell Police Station, and we all got out. The -little woman in the white dress and fur boa tumbled from the van into -the arms of a policeman--she assured us that she loved him on finding -herself thus closely against him; he remained stalwart as a piece of -wood. - -We Suffragettes were put into a cell by ourselves, it was perfectly -clean. We had not been there very long before the door was opened with -a clang and another woman was thrust in. She was reassuring to look -at, smartly dressed with fashionably-shaped brown furs draped round -her neck. She had come from Ireland that night and was terribly cold. -We gave her the blankets that had been given to us; nothing, however, -did much good. She had come over with another woman, who on landing had -been taken as “wanted by the police.” This woman had been arrested, -too, as “her friend,” but she said she was quite sure of getting off, -as she had only known the other woman quite a short time, and had no -idea that she was in any way “suspected.” The concern of this woman to -get free was natural enough, but she seemed to care not at all for the -other one, for whom my heart welled over with sympathy. I thought of -her with a more or less deceitful face, but I loved her because she was -“wanted by the police,” and this woman who was with us I wanted to get -off, of course, but that was all; I could not feel any sympathy towards -her. - -We waited in this cell until it was dawning light. It was not a place -for sleep, and the cold was terrible. As it was getting towards -morning, we were taken out of the cell and led off to wash our hands -and faces in another part of the prison. It was fearfully dark in one -part, with only a light occasionally here and there, so that one could -not see where one was going. On a bench, some ten or twelve little boys -were sitting. - -It was the first time I thought of children as prisoners. At Newcastle, -it was true, I had seen one little boy in the police court, but he -was enjoying himself over a cup of soup in the central room with -the police, and he was much too small to be convicted, whatever his -offences; possibly, if his parents were hopeless, he would have been -sent to a reformatory school. That, of course, was bad enough; one knew -that for half of the money that would have to be expended there was -many a woman in the country who would have cared for him with motherly -tenderness. But with these boys, who looked about nine years to fifteen -or sixteen years old, it was another matter. The place where they sat, -though public, for it was a gangway, was terrible, it was just where -the passages seemed to go underground; they were extremely dark, on -one side they abutted into a regular network of cells, with small -communicating alleys in between. There the boys sat and gazed at the -grown-up criminals who appeared from time to time; they looked at us -with the greatest curiosity. It was horrible to see them in a place so -profoundly ill-suited to children. - -The Liverpool organiser, Miss Flatman, and Miss Maude Joachim came to -us with the daylight of Saturday, January 15. It was a most unexpected -joy to see them--not alone, for that was not allowed, but in one of the -many passages near a window with a policeman standing by. I was able to -write a little scrap of a letter to Mrs. Pethick Lawrence in the name -of “Jane Warton.” This made me very happy. I believe we were offered -breakfast, or should have been able to get it had we asked for it, -but, in any case, those surroundings were so wretched that we almost as -soon went without, and I was eager to begin the hunger-strike. - -As the time of the assembling of the court, 10 o’clock, drew near we -waited in different parts of a large and rambling building. At last we -were conveyed, through what seemed an underground court, to the foot of -a staircase that led right up into the prisoner’s dock. - -I was the first of the Suffragettes to be taken up. Mr. Shepherd Little -was the magistrate; he seemed to be thoroughly out of temper. They -took only two or three minutes convicting me. When the policeman had -done his work of charging me with urging the crowd to follow me to -the Governor’s house, with refusing to desist when called upon by the -police, and with throwing a “missile” (small stone wrapped in paper), I -put in, “I had three stones upon me which I let fall in the Governor’s -garden. A man in the crowd ran past me just as I was letting go the -third--it fell on his shoulder; I apologised to him.” - -On the strength of its being my first imprisonment, I was sentenced to -a fortnight, 3rd Division, with option of a fine. Just when I had left -the court I was called back. The magistrate thought I ought to have -a longer sentence, thanks to my having thrown stones, but the clerk -thought not, and in the little altercation he got the best of it. - -The women of last night were waiting on the stairs. “How long have you -got?” they all said to me. “Ah! well, buck up,” they added on hearing -of fourteen days. Miss Elsie Howey, with the admission of her former -imprisonments, got six weeks, and Mrs. Nugent was, to our great joy, -released. The policeman downstairs told me that hard labour always -accompanied the 3rd Division sentences, unless stated to the contrary. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -WALTON GAOL, LIVERPOOL: MY THIRD IMPRISONMENT - - -Elsie Howey and I waited together at the Bridewell Police Station for -the greater part of that day (Saturday, January 15). Towards evening -they took us away in a partition van, alone, to Walton Green Gaol, we -arrived at about 7 o’clock at night. The other prisoners must have -journeyed here when we did, though by a different van, for we were -all together again when we were to give our names, vocation, etc., to -the prison warders. We stood up by a wall, all in a row, and waited -our turn. The prisoner with the white boa and the apparently white -gown, I was able to see closely and by a high light. The boa was in -imitation fur and extremely dirty, the white dress was of some thin -cotton, nearly transparent; it was open on her chest and she seemed -to have hardly any clothes underneath. I did not like to think what -she must have suffered this wintry day, in and out of the icy cold -police station cells. The effect of the drink was wearing off, and she -waved her head about as though she had a very bad headache; all her -cheerfulness had gone. Poor little thing, I felt extremely sorry for -her, she had been given plenty of the best brandy and she had done -what was wanted of her; the next day she found herself in prison. When -her imprisonment was over, in all probability, to go the same road of -drunkenness and prostitution would seem the only one open to her. - -There were several other prisoners besides those we had seen before. -Some were so familiar with the place that they reeled off their age, -religion, birthplace, calling, without waiting to be asked, and then -walked through into a large hall in which were the waiting cubicles. -Suddenly I felt awed, a feeling of supremest pity almost took my breath -away. Passing in front of me into the larger hall was a woman of great -beauty, her features were intensely refined, and in every part of her -there seemed to be some great determination, not in respect of the -prison she was in now, that was only part of it, but with regard to -her life of shame that went before; the whole face and figure were -virtuous and good. The other woman who had come over from Ireland was -not there, but this was the one, I felt quite sure, who was “wanted by -the police.” I had not heard her tell anything to the officer, I had -not seen her till that moment, and I never saw her again, but I shall -never forget her face which will rest always on my memory, beautiful, -commanding, and of an absorbing sadness. - -It was our turn at last. We gave the required details, and then Elsie -Howey said that we should refuse all food and all the prison rules. “We -are sorry if it will give trouble; we shall give as little as possible; -but our fast is against the Government, and we shall fight them with -our lives, not hurting anyone else.” The wardress gave no answer, but -with a wave of her hand showed us towards the cubicles. Before we went -in there we were separated; we had to part, and I never saw Elsie -again till long after I came out. A wardress came and showed me to -a room with two other officers, the place where I was to undress. I -said that I did not bow to the imprisonment and so would not undress -myself, whereupon a wardress began to pull my things off, but I showed -them this was not from disagreeableness but only through the prison -strike. On taking out of my pocket a clean handkerchief I noticed that -it had the initials “C. L.” still upon it, and when next there came a -reel of cotton with the name “Lytton” written quite distinctly round -the top, I felt overwhelmed with horror. Scarcely knowing what I was -about, I seized them both in my hand and put them on the fire which -burnt in a stove near where I was standing. The next moment I thought I -had done wrong and that the attention of the officers would inevitably -be called to my action, but they seemed not to have noticed and never -said anything, so I thanked my stars that I was safe. The look of Jane -Warton was still comic in the extreme, the two wardresses laughed as -they undressed her. Her glasses were the subject of excessive care and -she was allowed to keep them with her. I would most gladly have given -them up, for they hurt the bridge of my nose which was far too wide for -them, but it was good, of course, to help the disguise for some while -longer. I had my bath, and was put into a 3rd Division dress of coarse, -brown serge, and my cap and apron were tied on. I was put before a -large basket of worn boots, not in pairs, and told to pick out two -for myself. I chose the largest I saw, but they were not nearly big -enough, and it was only after a tremendous effort that I got my feet -into them. I was then taken to the large hall and put into a cubicle. -These were like cupboards, without ceiling, giving on to the hall for -light and air, so that they had not the stuffiness of the cells. By -this time I was dropping with fatigue, the seat seemed there for me to -sleep on, and being alone was immensely restful. But the sounds of the -other prisoners made it too painful for rest; one of them sobbed all -the time, and soon I saw we were here only to be inspected. The door -opened and a wardress put in a pair of sheets for me to take to the -cell. Then the Matron came, a capable-looking woman, but severe. She -spoke to me of the hunger-strike, and of how very wrong it was. I said -that of course without an object it was very wrong, but the Government -had been petitioned in every other way, we thought they would not like -hunger-strikes for ever, that now there were still comparatively few, -but later there would, if necessary, be many more; that feeding by -force was horrible, besides it did not meet the difficulty of keeping -the women in prison. When one saw what the wrongs of women were to -redress, it seemed a little thing that some women should die for the -sake of the others. She did not stay to prolong the discussion. - -The next to come was a young doctor accompanied by a female officer. He -called me out, and the ordinary questions were put to me. I said that I -was free from any infectious disease, but that I could not answer any -other questions. He seemed to have expected me to say this, and told -the officer to put it down in the book she carried with her. I had -decided, as on the occasion of my previous hunger-strike, to refuse -to answer medical questions, but not to resist medical inspection. -However, to my great relief, it was not attempted. This was the same at -Newcastle, so seemed to me nothing extraordinary. - -At last the longed-for moment had arrived, and I was taken off to my -cell. To my joy there was a window which opened a little bit; at night -it was lit by a gas jet that was set in the depth of the wall behind -the door, the passage side, and covered in by a thick glass. I was ever -so tired--I laid down and slept. - -The next day was Sunday (January 16), but they did not ask us to go to -chapel. For several days I did not wear my cap and apron in my cell, -but did not in other ways continue my protest against the clothes. The -cold seemed to me intense, and I wore the skirt of my dress fastened -round my neck for warmth. The Governor, accompanied by the Matron, came -to see me, but he was in a temper about our having broken his windows, -so I said nothing. He was in a fury at the way I had fastened my skirt. -I answered that it was for warmth and that I would gladly put on more -clothes and warmer ones if he gave them to me. Later on the Senior -Medical Officer came in. He was a short, fat, little man, with a long -waxed moustache. I should have said he disliked being unkind; he liked -to chaff over things; but as I looked at him I thought I would rather -be forcibly fed by anyone in the world than by him, the coarse doctors -at Newcastle and the cross little doctor I had seen the night before. I -said I had not asked to see him, but he made no examination and asked -no questions. - -I lay in my bed most of the day, for they did not disturb me, and I -tried to keep warm, as I felt the cold fearfully. They brought me all -my meals the same as usual, porridge in the morning at 7, meat and -potatoes mid-day at 12, porridge at 4.30. When they were hot I fed on -the smell of them, which seemed quite delicious; I said “I don’t want -any, thank you,” to each meal, as they brought it in. I had made up my -mind that this time I would not drink any water, and would only rinse -out my mouth morning and evening without swallowing any. I wrote on -the walls of my cell with my slate pencil and soap mixed with the dirt -of the floor for ink, “Votes for Women,” and the saying from Thoreau’s -_Duty of Civil Disobedience_--“Under a Government which imprisons any -unjustly, the true place for a just man (or woman) is also a prison”; -on the wall opposite my bed I wrote the text from Joshua, “Only be thou -strong and very courageous.” That night I dreamt of fruits, melons, -peaches and nectarines, and of a moonlit balcony that was hung with -sweetest smelling flowers, honeysuckle and jessamine, apple-blossom -and sweet scented verbena; there was only the sound of night birds -throbbing over the hills that ranged themselves below the balcony. On -it there slept my sister-in-law, and on the balustrade, but making no -noise, was a figure awake and alert, which was my brother. My dream -was of a land which was seen by my father in his poem of “King Poppy,” -where the princess and the shepherd boy are the types etherealised. -I woke suddenly. I could sleep a little in detached moments, but this -dream had made the prison cell beautiful to me; it had a way out. - -The strain was great of having to put on my shoes, which were too -small, every time I was taken out of my cell to empty slops or to see -the Governor. The Matron was shocked that I did not put the right heel -in at all and every day I was given another pair, but they were all -alike in being too small for my right foot. - -The next day, Monday (January 17), the wardress took my bed and bedding -away because I would not make it up, but lay on it in the day-time. I -told her if she wished she must roll me off, but that I did not intend -voluntarily to give it up. She was quite amiable, but rolled me towards -the wall and took the bed and bedding from underneath me. There was a -little table in my cell which was not fastened to the wall. I turned -it upside down and was able to sit in it with my body resting against -one of the legs. It was very uncomfortable, but I felt too ill to sit -up in the chair, and the concrete floor was much too cold without the -bed. Every now and then I got up and walked backwards and forwards in -the cell to get a little warmth into me. The Chaplain came in for a -moment. He was a tall, good-looking man, of the burly, healthy sort. -It seemed to me, from his talk, that he would be very well suited to -be a cricket match or football parson, if there were such a thing, but -he was totally unsuited to be the Chaplain of a prison, or anyhow of a -woman’s prison. He thought it wise to speak to me as a “Suffragette.” -“Look here, it’s no good your thinking that there’s anything to be -done with the women here--the men sometimes are not such bad fellows, -and there are many who write to me after they’ve left here, but the -women, they’re all as bad as bad can be, there’s absolutely no good in -them.” I did not answer, but I felt inclined to say “Then good-bye to -you, since you say you can do no good with the women here.” - -Presently an officer came and led me out. The manner of nearly all the -officers was severe; one or two were friends but most of them treated -me like dirt. I was shown along the gangway of the ward, which seemed -to me very large, much larger than the D X at Holloway, and went in -various directions like a star. I was shown into the Governor’s room, -which lay at the end of the gangway. It was warm, there were hot pipes -against which I was made to stand with my back to the wall, and for a -moment, as I put my feet to rest on the pipes, I could think of nothing -else but the delight of their heat. The Governor was very cross. I had -decided not to do the needlework which constituted the hard labour, -for this he gave me three days on bread and water. He would not let -me speak to him at all and I was led out, but, before I had got to my -cell, I was called back into his presence. “I hear you are refusing to -take your food, so it’s three days in a special cell.” I was taken out -and down a staircase till we reached the ground floor. I think my cell -was two stories above, but I am not sure; then down again and into a -short passage that looked as if it was underground, with a window at -the top seemingly only just level with the ground. The door of a cell -was opened, I was put inside and the door locked. It was larger than -the cell upstairs, and the jug, basin, etc., were all made of black -guttapercha, not of tin, placed on the floor. This would have been bad -for the ordinary prisoner; as it was quite impossible to tell whether -the eating things were clean or not and, in any case, it smelt fairly -strong of guttapercha; but as the rule for me was neither to eat nor -drink, I was able to put up with it well. The bed was wider than an -ordinary plank bed and nailed to the ground, so that I was able to lie -on it without being disturbed. Best of all was the fact that it was -nearer to the heating apparatus and so seemed quite warm when I was led -in. I did not notice at first that the window did not open, but when -I had been there six or seven hours it became wonderfully airless. I -only left my cell for minutes at a time, when I was allowed to draw -water, and the air of the corridor then seemed fresh as mountain air by -comparison. I had an idea that Elsie Howey or some of the others would -have been put into a punishment cell too. I called, but in vain, my -voice had grown weak and my tongue and throat felt thick as a carpet, -probably from not drinking anything. I tried signalling with raps on -the wall, “No surrender--no surrender,” Mrs. Leigh’s favourite motto, -but I was never sure of corresponding raps, though sometimes I thought -I heard them. I could not sleep for more than about an hour at a time, -my legs drew up into a cramped position whenever I went off and the -choking thickness in my mouth woke me. - -Tuesday, January 18, I was visited again by the Senior Medical -Officer, who asked me how long I had been without food. I said I had -eaten a buttered scone and a banana sent in by friends to the police -station on Friday at about midnight. He said, “Oh, then, this is the -fourth day; that is too long, I shall have to feed you, I must feed you -at once,” but he went out and nothing happened till about 6 o’clock -in the evening, when he returned with, I think, five wardresses and -the feeding apparatus. He urged me to take food voluntarily. I told -him that was absolutely out of the question, that when our legislators -ceased to resist enfranchising women then I should cease to resist -taking food in prison. He did not examine my heart nor feel my pulse; -he did not ask to do so, nor did I say anything which could possibly -induce him to think I would refuse to be examined. I offered no -resistance to being placed in position, but lay down voluntarily on the -plank bed. Two of the wardresses took hold of my arms, one held my head -and one my feet. One wardress helped to pour the food. The doctor leant -on my knees as he stooped over my chest to get at my mouth. I shut -my mouth and clenched my teeth. I had looked forward to this moment -with so much anxiety lest my identity should be discovered beforehand, -that I felt positively glad when the time had come. The sense of being -overpowered by more force than I could possibly resist was complete, -but I resisted nothing except with my mouth. The doctor offered me the -choice of a wooden or steel gag; he explained elaborately, as he did -on most subsequent occasions, that the steel gag would hurt and the -wooden one not, and he urged me not to force him to use the steel -gag. But I did not speak nor open my mouth, so that after playing -about for a moment or two with the wooden one he finally had recourse -to the steel. He seemed annoyed at my resistance and he broke into a -temper as he plied my teeth with the steel implement. He found that on -either side at the back I had false teeth mounted on a bridge which -did not take out. The superintending wardress asked if I had any false -teeth, if so, that they must be taken out; I made no answer and the -process went on. He dug his instrument down on to the sham tooth, it -pressed fearfully on the gum. He said if I resisted so much with my -teeth, he would have to feed me through the nose. The pain of it was -intense and at last I must have given way for he got the gag between my -teeth, when he proceeded to turn it much more than necessary until my -jaws were fastened wide apart, far more than they could go naturally. -Then he put down my throat a tube which seemed to me much too wide and -was something like four feet in length. The irritation of the tube -was excessive. I choked the moment it touched my throat until it had -got down. Then the food was poured in quickly; it made me sick a few -seconds after it was down and the action of the sickness made my body -and legs double up, but the wardresses instantly pressed back my head -and the doctor leant on my knees. The horror of it was more than I can -describe. I was sick over the doctor and wardresses, and it seemed a -long time before they took the tube out. As the doctor left he gave me -a slap on the cheek, not violently, but, as it were, to express his -contemptuous disapproval, and he seemed to take for granted that my -distress was assumed. At first it seemed such an utterly contemptible -thing to have done that I could only laugh in my mind. Then suddenly I -saw Jane Warton lying before me, and it seemed as if I were outside of -her. She was the most despised, ignorant and helpless prisoner that I -had seen. When she had served her time and was out of the prison, no -one would believe anything she said, and the doctor when he had fed her -by force and tortured her body, struck her on the cheek to show how he -despised her! That was Jane Warton, and I had come to help her. - -When the doctor had gone out of the cell, I lay quite helpless. The -wardresses were kind and knelt round to comfort me, but there was -nothing to be done, I could not move, and remained there in what, under -different conditions, would have been an intolerable mess. I had been -sick over my hair, which, though short, hung on either side of my face, -all over the wall near my bed, and my clothes seemed saturated with it, -but the wardresses told me they could not get me a change that night -as it was too late, the office was shut. I lay quite motionless, it -seemed paradise to be without the suffocating tube, without the liquid -food going in and out of my body and without the gag between my teeth. -Presently the wardresses all left me, they had orders to go, which were -carried out with the usual promptness. Before long I heard the sounds -of the forced feeding in the next cell to mine. It was almost more than -I could bear, it was Elsie Howey, I was sure. When the ghastly process -was over and all quiet, I tapped on the wall and called out at the top -of my voice, which wasn’t much just then, “No surrender,” and there -came the answer past any doubt in Elsie’s voice, “No surrender.” After -this I fell back and lay as I fell. It was not very long before the -wardress came and announced that I was to go back upstairs as, because -of the feeding, my time in the punishment cell was over. I was taken -into the same cell which I had before; the long hours till morning were -a nightmare of agonised dread for a repetition of the process. - -The next day, Wednesday, January 19, they brought me clean clothes. -When the wardresses were away at breakfast I determined to break the -thick glass of my gas jet to show what I thought of the forcible -feeding, it seemed the last time that I should have the strength -required. I took one of my shoes, which always lay at my side except -when I moved from my cell, let it get a good swing by holding it at the -back of my shoulder and then hurled it against the glass with all the -strength that I had. The glass broke in pieces with a great smashing -sound. The two wardresses, who were in charge of the whole ward while -the others were away, came into my cell together; I was already back in -my bed. They were young, new to the work, and looked rather frightened. -I told them I had done it with a shoe, and why. “But that is enough,” I -said, “I am not going to do any more now.” This reassured them and they -both laughed. They took away the shoes as “dangerous,” and brought me -slippers instead, and, to my intense relief, I never saw them again. As -the morning wore on, one after the other of the officials proclaimed -that I had done a shameful thing. On being changed to the cell next -door, one of the head wardresses--I never made out exactly who she -was--was in a great temper. I had told her, as I did every one of the -officials, why I had broken my gas jet. “Broken it, yes, I should -just think you had, indeed. And all that writing scribbled over your -cell; can’t keep the place decent.” “I’m so sorry,” I said; “I assure -you there was nothing indecent in what I wrote on the wall.” “No, not -indecent, but----” she hesitated and, as the words would not come to -her assistance, the remark remained unfinished. - -I had not been long in the other cell before the doctor and four or -five wardresses appeared. He was apparently angry because I had broken -the jet glass; he seized one of the tin vessels and began waving -it about. “I suppose you want to smash me with one of these?” he -exclaimed. I said to him, so that all the wardresses with him could -hear, “Unless you consider it part of your duty, would you please not -strike me when you have finished your odious job” (or I may have said -“slap me,” I do not remember). He did not answer, but, after a little -pause, he signed to me to lie down on the bed. Again the choice of -the wooden or steel implement, again the force, which after a time I -could not withstand, in the same place as yesterday where the gum was -sore and aching. Then the feeling of the suffocating tube thrust down -and the gate of life seemed shut. The tube was pressed down much too -far, it seemed to me, causing me at times great pain in my side. The -sickness was worse than the time before. As the tube was removed I was -unavoidably sick over the doctor. He flew away from me and out of the -cell, exclaiming angrily, “If you do that again next time I shall feed -you twice.” I had removed my serge jacket and taken several precautions -for my bed, but I am afraid one or two of the officers and the floor -and wall were drenched. I shut my eyes and lay back quite helpless for -a while. They presently brought in fresh clothes, and a woman, another -prisoner, came and washed the floor. It seemed terrible that another -prisoner should do this, it was altogether a revolting business. Two -wardresses came and overlooked her work, one of them said, in a voice -of displeased authority: “Look at her! Just look at her! The _way_ -she’s doing it!” The woman washed on and took no notice; her face was -intensely sad. I roused myself and said, “Well, at any rate, she’s -doing what I should be doing myself and I am very grateful to her.” The -wardresses looked surprised at me, but they said nothing. - -The Governor came in for a moment to see me. To my surprise his anger -had cooled a little. He had before spoken to me in a rage and, if I -asked questions which implied a complaint, had told me they were not -proper questions for me to ask, or that I must not argue or raise -discussions. After failing to get a definite answer as to under whose -authority the forcible feeding was done, I said it surely could not be -right for him to allow such a thing in the prison over which he had -jurisdiction, unless he had seen it and at least fully realised what -it entailed. With apparently some reluctance, he admitted that he had -witnessed it. I asked, “And after that you sanction and approve of such -a thing being done to prisoners who have committed _only nominal crimes -with no criminal object and in defence of a claim which they have no -recognised constitutional means to enforce_?” The last italicised part -of this remark remained unheard, for the Governor interrupted me with -“That is not a fitting question for you to ask.” Later, I was had up -before him in his room and was severely reprimanded for breaking the -glass of the gas-box and “inspection” glass, and for defacing the walls -of my cell, but I was dismissed with a caution for glass breaking, and -my punishment was reserved for the Visiting Magistrates. - -When it was evening the light was lit and the doctor and wardresses -came again to feed me. I asked if I could not sit up in a chair and -the doctor said “Yes.” I told him that I was a small eater, that the -capacity of my body was very limited and if only he would give less -quantities the result might be better. I also begged that he would not -press the tube so far down into my body. He treated the request with -contempt, saying that anyhow my stomach must be longer than his, since -I was taller than he was. This third time, though I was continually -sick, the doctor pressed the tube down firmly into my body and -continued to pour food in. At last this produced a sort of shivering -fit and my teeth chattered when the gag was removed; I suppose that -every vestige of colour must have left my face, for the doctor seemed -surprised and alarmed. He removed the tube and told the wardresses -to lay me on the floor-bed and lower my head. He then came and lay -over my chest and seemed very sorry for what he had done. I told him -I should not faint, that I was not liable to this or any form of -collapse; I did not mention the slight chronic debility of heart from -which I suffered. He called in the junior medical officer, who happened -to be passing at the time, to test my heart. The junior doctor, who -was in a jovial mood, stooped down and listened to my heart through -the stethoscope for barely the space of a second--he could not have -heard two beats--and exclaimed, “Oh, ripping, splendid heart! You can -go on with her”; with that he left the cell. But the senior doctor -seemed not to be reassured and he was kind to me for the first time. He -tried to feed me with a spoon, but I was still able to clench my teeth -and no food got down. He then pleaded with me, saying in a beseeching -voice, “I do beg of you--I appeal to you, not as a prison doctor but -as a man--to give over. You are a delicate woman, you are not fit for -this sort of thing.” I answered, “Is anybody fit for it? And I beg of -you--I appeal to you, not as a prisoner but as a woman--to give over -and refuse to continue this inhuman treatment.” After I had lain quiet -for some time I managed to clean the cell myself. I took out two pails -to the sink, but had only strength to carry them a few yards. As I was -journeying like this, getting on very slowly, a wardress told me to -take only one at a time; her sympathy was moved to this extent, but -no further. I took one pail back to my cell, went on with the other, -and then came back for the first. When I had finished this business -of washing up--which I was glad to do myself, even if it took half -the day, that it might not be given to another prisoner, and also for -the better cleaning of the hideous mess--I fell on my bed and lay -there till evening; they now left me both bed and bedding, which was a -tremendous blessing. - -I lay facing the window, which was high up, and very little light -seemed to come from it. As the sun went down I saw the shadow of the -wooden mouldings fall across the glass,--three crosses, and they were -the shape of the three familiar crosses at the scene of Calvary, one in -the centre and one on either side. It looked different from any of the -pictures I had seen. The cross of Christ, the cross of the repentant -thief, and the cross of the sinner who had not repented--that cross -looked blacker than the others, and behind it was an immense crowd. The -light from the other two crosses seemed to shine on this one, and the -Christ was crucified that He might undo all the harm that was done. I -saw amongst the crowd the poor little doctor and the Governor, and all -that helped to torture these women in prison, but they were nothing -compared to the men in the Cabinet who wielded their force over them. -There were the upholders of vice and the men who support the thousand -injustices to women, some knowingly and some unconscious of the harm -and cruelty entailed. Then the room grew dark and I fell asleep. When -the doctor came again with his apparatus he had bovril and brandy, and -the tube was left for only one second in my body. The next morning, -Thursday, January 20, I told him that the brandy, which at first had -the effect of warming me, left me freezing cold after about two hours, -and I thought it was no use. As for the bovril, I had the strongest -objection to it of a vegetarian kind, and I begged him not to give it -to me again; he said he would not. It was only when I was sick that I -knew what were the ingredients put down my body. That morning it was -again milk and plasmon that was given me, and I was horribly sick. The -doctor said to me, “You are absolutely not fit for this kind of thing. -How could your Union send a woman like you to do a thing of this kind? -It is like sending a wisp of wind to fight against a----” I did not -hear the end of the sentence, but I think he said “a rock.” I was not -able to answer, but the next time he came I said to him, “Our Union -does not send anyone; service of this kind is absolutely voluntary. -In my case not one of the leaders even knew of my action. I did it -entirely off my own bat and only told the local organisers.” - -From the third feeding, when the junior doctor had felt my heart on -Wednesday evening, the senior doctor had been much kinder to me; in -fact I noticed a change in the way I was treated generally, so much -so that I concluded my identity had been discovered or was at least -suspected. I left off wearing my hair in a parting, as it was almost -impossible to keep it away when I was sick. I brushed it back and did -it up in a towel every time when I was fed. I left off wearing my -glasses, which were too uncomfortable to be tolerated now that the -necessity for them had worn off and they were forcibly feeding me -quite happily. I then decided to take the utmost advantage of any -privilege, in order to bring the officials to act reasonably, to check -their recklessness as much as possible, and to bring them to strain the -regulations so far as might be--not, as heretofore, in the direction -of brutality, but in the direction of hygiene, if not of humanity. I -pleaded afresh with the doctor to try the experiment of giving me less -quantity of food, of putting less of the tube into the body, of using -less glycerine, which greatly irritated my throat the moment the tube -touched it, or to use oil instead of glycerine. He listened to what I -said, and though except as to the glycerine--he wiped the tube almost -free of it, and called my attention to the fact--there was not much -difference in what he did, yet his manner of doing it was different. - -When I was at the sink on Thursday morning, two or three other -prisoners were there, and they hastily whispered to me, “It _is_ your -friend next to you, No. 21.” The kindness which beamed from all their -faces did my heart good, but I could never hear or see Elsie Howey next -door, and eventually I imagined that they must have mistaken me for her -when I threw back my hair after the third feeding. - -That day I thought I would clean my window, through which I had -seen such a wonderful vision the evening before. Though the day was -generally spent in loneliness, I knew that I might be visited at any -hour, so I put off till about 3.30, when the ward was generally quiet -for a time. All the furniture in the cell was movable, so I placed the -table in front of the window and the chair on the top, then I climbed -up. Through the small part of the window that opened I looked down, and -in a beautiful red glow of the sinking sun I saw a sight that filled -my very soul with joy. In the gloaming light--it was an exercise ground -that I looked down upon--I saw walking round, all alone, a woman in her -prisoner’s dress, and in her arms she carried another little prisoner, -a baby done up in a blanket. I was too high up to hear her, but I could -see distinctly that she cooed and laughed to her little companion, and -perhaps she sang to it too. I never saw maternal love more naturally -displayed. The words of the Chaplain came back to my mind--“The women, -they’re all as bad as bad can be, there’s absolutely no good in them.” -No good in them! and yet amongst them there was this little woman who, -at least, loved her child and played with it as only a mother-heart can! - -I got down and put the table and chair in their place; I felt amazed, -having seen a sight as beautiful as the most beautiful picture in the -world. - -The wardress who came most often to my cell was kind to me. I said to -her, “Oh! if you only knew what a nightmare it is, the feeding. I have -never been any good at bearing pain, and each time it comes I feel as -if I simply couldn’t endure it.” “Oh! well,” she answered, “it gets -better, you’ll see.” She said this in a comforting voice, but the -vistas of experience it gave of other prisoners who had gone through -the process made it anything but a comfort to me. Most of them had been -let out half dead before the end of their time, and I had but very -little faith in the assurance that it would “get better.” I asked her -after the other Suffrage prisoners, but she could tell me nothing of -them. This wardress came back to my cell rather late one day and said -to me hurriedly: “I am going away to the other side of the prison. -Will you write to me when you get out?” I told her that I was afraid -my letters might get her into trouble, for I felt sure it would not be -allowed. She said she was quite sure it would be all right, if I sent -it to her name, Miss ----. I said, “Very well, then, I will.” - -I was filled with terror in the morning when the gas-jet was put out -and in the evening when it was lighted again; within about half an hour -of these changes in the light came the doctor and wardresses, the gag -and all the fiendish consequences. I walked up and down my cell in a -fever of fear, stopping now and then and looking up at the window, from -which all good things had seemed to come. I said, “Oh, God, help me! -Oh, God, help me!” - -After, I think, the sixth meal, I complained to the doctor that the -processes of digestion were absolutely stagnant. I suggested to him -that he should leave out one meal, with a view to allowing the natural -forces of the body to readjust themselves, unhampered by the kind -of paralysing cramp and arresting of the natural functions which -resulted from fear. I also suggested that instead of brandy--he had -given me another meal of bovril and brandy--fruit juice or the water -in which a pear or apple had been stewed should be added to my food. -He did not answer me, but turned to the head assistant, whom he had -already assured me was a fully-trained nurse, and in a half-insolent, -half-contemptuous tone of voice, said: “Do you understand her? I -don’t. Does she mean that she is constipated? If so, you see about it.” -Very likely I had spoken unintelligibly. I seldom had interviewed a -doctor on my own behalf, and am not versed in their technical language. -Whenever I spoke to this doctor it was either immediately before or -after the feeding, so that my nerves were unstrung. Moreover, prisoners -are made to feel in the presence of nearly every prison official that -they are the scum of the earth, suspected of deceit, prejudged and -found wanting; this has a paralysing effect on a prisoner’s powers of -expression. The chief assistant was the woman who took me daily to the -weighing machine. She was kind and refined in her ways. I explained -to her what I wanted, I reminded her several times about this; once I -spoke again to the doctor of it, but I was never given either a drug, -or, so far as I know, the fruit juice in my food. - -I asked the doctor if a smaller tube could not be used for the feeding. -He answered, “If I fed you through the nose it would be with a smaller -tube.” I suggested that the smaller tube should be used through the -mouth, if he thought that process the easiest. He said, “Well, that -might be,” but the tube was never changed to a smaller one. As to my -suggestion about omitting a meal, he also seemed to think it plausible, -but he promised nothing, and fed me in the evening, saying that I had -again lost weight, so that he could not leave me without food. Of -course, this quite ignored my argument that until I began to keep down -the food I could not profit by it or gain in weight. - -My limbs, hands and feet, were stiff with cold at all times. I -was allowed flannel underclothes and an extra blanket. In spite of -continued reproof from the wardresses I kept on my nightdress in the -day time, the only under-garment with long sleeves, and I passed the -night in all my day-clothes. At last I was able to do this without -comment from the authorities. They also, as a great favour, allowed me -yet another blanket when I asked for it after some days; I then had -three. I was allowed to keep the cape, usually only for out-door use, -in my cell. But it was like trying to warm a stone by clothing it. Hot -water was allowed in a pail once a day after the evening feeding. - -Most of my friends had been fed by the doctor standing at the back of -the patient, whereas this doctor adjusted the tube and fed me from -the front, a process which he carried out by sitting across my knees. -By this time I could not feel my legs and arms, except just by the -joints where I felt the pain of the cold. At night I used to get up -and walk from time to time to prevent them from becoming useless. But -on Thursday night, my sixth in prison, I fell really asleep and when -I awoke I had an unexpected feeling of ease and freedom from pain or -fear. I was unconscious of my nearly rigid limbs, the beat of my heart -was scarcely perceptible; I supposed I had only a little while to live. -The prospect of release was inexpressibly welcome. Presently I heard, -as distinctly as if the wall of my cell had a mouth and had spoken, the -words which Mrs. Leigh has made glorious in connection with our cause: -“No surrender.” They beat upon my brain with a new meaning; not only to -a repressive Government, not only to heedless laws and their attendant -punishments, but to the temptations of our inabilities, no surrender. -What was I about, to abdicate my job in this ease-loving way? I rubbed -the painful life back into my feet, hands and limbs, and forced myself -to walk up and down my cell. Pictures succeeded each other rapidly in -my mind of our fellow-prisoners in the “Black Maria,” of all undefended -women, of children’s blighted lives, of down-trodden men and women, -undeveloped or ill of body or mind, whose fate women, through their -abject surrender of the woman’s part in the world’s jurisdiction, must -to a certain extent have laid at their door. How misplaced, unrighteous -and unwomanly did non-resistance appear to me then. With every throb -of my returning pulses I seemed to feel the rhythm of the world’s soul -calling to us women to uncramp our powers from the thraldom of long -disuse. My whole being responded and I yearned to hand on the message -as I myself had in spirit received it--“Women, you are wanted. Women, -as women, because you are women, come out in all your womanliness, -and whether or not victory is for your day, at least each one of you -make sure that the one course impossible to you is surrender of your -share in the struggle.” To you, dear, faithful Suffragettes at heart, -whatever the handcuffs of circumstance which may limit your powers of -visible service, I pass on this message. - -I had been told that the Visiting Magistrates were due to come to the -prison on Friday (January 21), and that my offences would be judged -by them. On Wednesday morning I asked if I could be allowed to go -to chapel, as on Thursday, probably, I should move with difficulty -and after that I would not have a chance, as they would have me -put in irons for breaking the glass of my gas-jet--they had put my -friends in irons for less than that. The wardress seemed to think -this improbable, but she gave her consent to my going to chapel. That -morning at 10 o’clock, I was taken downstairs and put in a long row -of waiting prisoners, we were close enough to be touching each other, -all perfectly silent. They changed me about, putting me in a different -place each time, for no apparent reason. We had waited about a quarter -of an hour, when the order came to move along, and we went through -several buildings to the chapel. The men, who were much the most -numerous, were seated below, the women in a gallery above with a screen -of wood jutting out, so that nothing could be seen by one of the other. -I was shunted several times from my place, and at last was put in a -row by myself. I looked in vain for any of my companions, they were -not there. The service was short and with several hymns, in which, as -in Holloway, the prisoners joined heartily. Then the Chaplain got up -into the pulpit and preached a sermon with a great deal of energy. He -told of a wreck, evidently a quite recent one, in which the lifeboat -men had behaved splendidly. Many were saved, and they gave thanks to -God and to the lifeboat men. Then he went on to describe how we were -born, helpless and ignorant, in the world. As we thought of it, we must -give thanks to God. I listened with interest, but nothing further was -said. There was apparently no mother to thank, who through nine months -had tended the little one in her body, and through pain, sometimes -excruciating, brought it to birth. These were entirely forgotten. Was -it because the women were “as bad as bad can be”? - -The next day, Thursday, January 20, I asked if I could go out. The -longing for more air than I could get in the cell was intense, though -the window of this one opened just enough to let in some air. I found -that I could walk all right, although it seemed as if my legs were -painful things attached to my body. The wardress told me I might go -that afternoon. As I was taken out of my cell that morning to be -weighed, I passed a little girl prisoner. She was not more than a -child. For aught I knew she may have been taken straight from the life -of the streets the night before, but she had at that moment the face -of an angel, and she looked down on me from the steps that she was -cleaning above with a smile which you can never see out of prison. Her -whole face seemed lit up with it and it touched my very soul. I never -saw her again, but I felt that all my resentment and anger were gone. -In a way my physical courage was no greater than before, but at least I -should go on; I knew that I should last out. - -In the afternoon the wardress came to let me go out. I saw none of my -companions on the way, and I was put in an exercise yard quite alone. -A pain in my side had by this time grown acutely. I rested against the -wall, but nothing did it any good. The sight of the grey, frosty sky -and the feel of air were a delight, but I could not bear the cold nor -hold myself up, and after a little while I asked to come in. - -The next day, Friday, January 21, as I was being fed--the wardresses -had given up holding me--the pain of the tube in my body was more than -I could bear; I seized hold of it and pulled it up. The wardresses -reproved me for interfering, but they did not put the tube in again; -the doctor said nothing. I was overwhelmed with the horror of the -process, and for the first time I was convulsed with sobs. The doctor -was kind to me. I said that I only cried from having no strength to -resist, but that I meant to live out my sentence if I could. - -This was the day the Visiting Magistrates were due. Later in the -morning they came to my cell with the Governor, who said, “Have you -any complaint? If only about the forcible feeding, you will have the -opportunity later on in my room; don’t talk of that now.” I answered, -“I have complaints to make not only about being fed by force, but as to -the manner in which it was done.” He said, “Your opportunity for that -also will come later on.” I think it was now, in the presence of the -Visiting Magistrates, that I said to the Governor, “I shall be saying -several things when I am out of prison, and it seems to me more fair -and square to tell you of them now while I am still in your hands, and -you can refute them if you like.” He allowed me to proceed, so I went -on: “About the Governor, I shall say that while he was shocked at -the great wickedness of breaking glass as a protest against forcible -feeding, he sanctioned and approved of the violence and brutality of -the forcible feeding itself.” He almost smiled, and replied hastily -that he had never said anything of the kind. I began to ask which -part of my statement he denied--his condemnation of glass-breaking or -approval of the forced feeding, but he stopped me and would not allow -any further remarks on that point. - -Soon afterwards, when summoned before the Magistrates in the Governor’s -room, I was allowed, in replying to the charge of glass-breaking, -to which I pleaded guilty, to make my protest against the forcible -feeding. I said I had been unable to ascertain on whose authority it -was done; if by the order of an individual it seemed to me cruel and -abominable, but if by order of the departmental authority, and in the -name of law, I thought it much worse; then it was sheer barbarism, for -under cover of such an order, kindly and well-meaning subordinates were -made to assist, for the sake of duty, in the performance of many things -which they would never tolerate under different circumstances. As a -protest, I owned a feeble one, against this barbarism I had actually -been guilty of defacing the walls of my cell with inscriptions and of -breaking a valuable piece of glass. The latter part of my remarks, I -think, were scarcely heard, for the Magistrates had begun to interrupt -me. My breath gave out; I looked round at the Magistrates, at the -Governor, at the Matron. They had ordinary faces, neither kind nor -unkind; they were displeased with what I said, they looked angry--that -was all. Then I asked if I might now lodge my complaint against -various points as to the manner in which I had been forcibly fed. The -Governor replied, “No, not now. You will have another opportunity for -that later on.” After a lengthy and severe reprimand for my prison -offences and condemnatory remarks on the subject of the behaviour of -Suffragettes outside, the Magistrates waived the matter of the wall -inscriptions as having been already dealt with by the Governor, and -with regard to the broken glass they deferred judgment _sine die_. - -When back in my cell, the Governor presently visited me. I said I had -understood I was to have an opportunity of seeing the Magistrates -again to lodge my further complaint against the manner of feeding. -The Governor said, “You will not see the Magistrates again; but now -is your time, I have come on purpose to hear your complaints.” I had -the impression, probably not uncommon to all prisoners, that the -higher the authority the less likelihood would there be of an appeal -to them taking effect. Certainly there had been nothing in the manner -and remarks of the Visiting Magistrates to alter this impression. -I was therefore well pleased to make my complaint to the Governor -alone. It is no part of the prison protest to plead for merciful or -even rational treatment, and though I had deliberately decided upon a -different course, I was haunted by the fear of breaking our policy and -proving disloyal to my comrades then in prison. The Matron was present, -as always when the Governor visits prisoners in their cells, and he -allowed me to remain on my bed. For the first time he listened to all I -had to say without attempting to interrupt me, or to curtail or change -the drift of my remarks. I reported to him having been forcibly fed -without my heart having been tested or the doctor even feeling my -pulse. I said I mentioned this in no spirit of personal complaint, for, -though suffering from slight chronic heart disease, my heart happened -to have great resisting and recuperative power; but I didn’t suppose -it was possible to diagnose this fact merely from looking at me, and -that on general medical grounds, as a matter of principle, I thought -the heart ought most carefully to be tested before any prisoner who had -been on hunger-strike was forcibly fed, since both these processes were -theoretically believed to tax the heart. - -I said, “There is another thing which I think I had better mention. -After the first time of feeding me, the doctor seemed very irritated -and, before leaving, he slapped me on the cheek; he did not hurt me, -but seemed to wish to show his contempt; about this, too, I do not -wish to complain as of an insult to me personally. He no doubt was -irritated by his repulsive job, but this is hardly the right mood for -an official, and what he could do to one woman he might possibly do -to another. I think such things should not be done. I asked him the -next morning, unless he thought it part of his duty, not to do such a -thing again, and he never has.” I made further complaints about too -much food at a time being poured in through the tube, and about the one -occasion when the tube was left in for some considerable time and the -feeding repeated again and again, in spite of my continuous vomiting. -I did not, however, complain of these things in any detail to the -Governor, since they seemed to be matters chiefly suitable for the -medical officer. I think I added, as I certainly did on one occasion -to the doctor himself, what a mercy it was that at least the doctor was -skilled in adjusting the tube into the throat. The Governor made no -reply but listened to all I said. - -It was on the afternoon of this day, Friday, that the door of my cell -was suddenly thrown open, and the man who stood outside was announced -to me as the Government inspector. I asked, had he come from London? -“Yes.” He inquired in a hurried way, as if he had a train to catch, -had I any complaint? “Yes,” I replied, “first of all about being fed -by force.” He said, in a hurried and insolent manner, all in one -breath, so that it was scarcely intelligible, “Are you refusing to -take your food--If so, the remedy is in your hands, you have no reason -to complain--Any further complaints?” I hesitated for a moment, then, -as it seemed to me my complaints against the doctor would certainly -in this man’s estimation come under the head of grievances easily -remediable by the surrender of the hunger-strike, I answered, “No, I -suppose not,” upon which he abruptly left me. - -On this day, Friday, the Governor before he left me had suggested -that under certain conditions he would allow me to write a letter. -“For instance,” he said, “if you had a mother you were anxious about, -perhaps I could give you leave to write to her.” I had so arranged -matters before being arrested that I knew my people, if they had -traced me, would conclude that by this time my hunger-strike had been -superseded by forcible feeding; that those most dear to me had implicit -faith in the reasonableness of all officials, that if at any moment -they chose to take advantages of the privileges available to them, -they could hear all about me; and, finally, that if they were anxious -to the point of disregard for those of my principles which they did -not share, they could pay my fine; but hastily on these reflections -there followed the panic fear that it was my mother who was ill, and -the Governor was breaking the news to me. He, however, reassured me on -this point and he left me. The permission reeled in my brain. My mother -would by this time certainly suspect something. If I could write to her -and yet not let her know where I was! The prison paper would alone make -this impossible. I thought about it all night. The next day, Saturday, -January 22, I determined to eat my breakfast so that I might be in a -fit state to write, otherwise my hands trembled and I could not steady -my mind to a letter. I told the wardress very early that morning that -I would eat my breakfast, and that I should like someone to witness -it. The little woman, whom the doctor had told me was a nurse, brought -me in a cup of milk and a piece of white bread and butter. It was the -most delicious food I have ever tasted; the “nurse” was very kind to -me and stayed till I had finished. Then I wrote my letter; it was only -on the slate, of course; I must ask the Governor’s leave before I was -allowed writing-paper. I asked to see the Governor, by letter written -on another slate. I said that, if it were the same to him, might I go -to his room to see him, as there I could stand near the hot pipes, -which was a great luxury. He came to my cell, and I told him I would -gladly avail myself of the privilege to write to my mother, provided -he would grant the same privilege to my fellow Suffrage prisoners. I -assumed, too, that he had done the same in the case of Elsie Howey as -in mine, omitted to punish her for glass-breaking--I believed, from the -sound, that someone besides myself had broken glass--and I reminded him -of a remark he had made as to the law being no respecter of persons. By -this time I had an almost certain conviction that he knew who I was. -But he would not give me any assurance as to like favours being granted -to other prisoners, so I refused to avail myself of the letter-writing -privilege. In the afternoon, however, I had decided that I could convey -news to my mother without revealing my identity to the officials, -supposing that they were not yet fully aware of the truth, and that I -had better use every available privilege offered, since I was in the -dark as to the grounds on which it was made. I determined to write to -the nurse of my sister’s children, who lived in Bloomsbury Square, -telling her to forward my letter at once to my mother. I asked to see -the Governor again, but he had left. I was taken before the Matron, who -told me the privilege would anyhow be conditional, dependent upon to -whom my letter was addressed and the urgency of the motive for writing -it. I said there was no extreme urgency; she answered I must await the -Governor’s return on Monday morning. - -I wrote in my letter on the slate that the forcible feeding was “only -pain,” and that my mother would think that good for me. I made no other -complaint, but said the short sentence would soon let me be with her. -My only object was to conceal all that I endured. In the evening I was -again fed by force. - -On Sunday morning, January 23, the cold was intense. I asked for some -hearthstone to polish my tins--they had taken everything of the kind -away and the tins were dull and spotted. I hoped to keep some sense -of life in my hands and arms by trying to scrub with them. But it did -not come. Presently the door opened and the Governor appeared; I could -not think why he came so early. Then I saw the doctor behind him, and -the thought of the forcible feeding blocked my mind. I supposed the -Governor had come to see it. He was nervous about startling me, I -suppose, for he told me the great news twice before I understood. He -told me of my release and that my youngest sister, Emily Lutyens, had -come to fetch me away. I felt stunned with the quite unexpected shock -of joy, it was too good to be true. After ascertaining that my fine -had not been paid, but that I had been released on medical grounds, -and that it had nothing to do with my mother’s health, the chief aim -for which I tried to pull myself together was to obtain what news I -could of my fellow-prisoners. The Governor and doctor, however, left -me without giving me any information. Again I was brought white bread -and butter and milk for my breakfast, and the “nurse” stayed with me -while I ate it. They brought me my clothes, but the more I realised the -news the slower my movements became; all strength seemed to have ebbed -from my body. The wardresses knew nothing of the other Suffragette -prisoners, whether they were released or not. When dressed I was taken -out far away to what was called “the Governor’s room,” but it was not -the same one that I had seen before. The doctor came and talked to me, -then after a little while my sister came. We greeted each other, of -course, by a tremendously warm embrace. The doctor looked away like a -witness in a melodrama. I sat there as in a dream talking to him and -to the Governor, who presently came in. The doctor said, “I have been -kind to you?” “Latterly you were,” I answered, “if you had not fed me. -At first you were angry and not kind.” I told the Governor that the one -thing I wanted to know about was the other Suffragette prisoners, were -they fed--were they released? He answered that they were not released, -that one of them was in hospital, that they were all quite well. I said -that was a curious answer; if they were all quite well, why was one -in hospital? He said that he could tell me nothing more. The doctor -said they were none of them as bad as I was over the feeding. That was -all that I could get from them about the other prisoners. I did not -go over again with them the points about which I had protested, while -still a prisoner, as to my own treatment. The Governor and doctor were -courteous to me after my release and to my sister, and the Governor’s -wife had been very kind to her on her arrival in the early morning. - -Why we waited I do not know, but in about half an hour we drove away -in a four-wheeler. The Chaplain was just coming in to the prison as -we drove out through the gates; he bowed to me. I went to the station -first and got my trunk, or rather my sister got it for me, then we went -to the hotel. We telephoned to Dr. Kerr that I was released and going -with my sister to London. She sent her young daughter and man-servant -to see us at the hotel, and we left word with them for Miss Flatman, -who was not on the telephone and whose Sunday address we did not know. - -I had a long bath, which was a tremendous luxury, although my legs were -so thin I could not sit down without pain. My dear sister stayed with -me the whole time; my voice shook and I could not speak properly. We -had a meal before we left. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE HOME OFFICE - - -We got into the train for London and I had a long sleep. During the -last part of the journey my sister, Emily Lutyens, told how she had -heard of me in Walton Gaol. She had a telephone message forwarded to -her on Saturday night, January 15, from the Press Association. It -was addressed to my eldest brother, who was abroad, saying it was -rumoured that I was imprisoned in Liverpool--was it true? She rang up -our friend, Mr. Arthur Chapman, who after an infinity of trouble got -into communication with Mr. Thompson, one of the Prison Commissioners -from the Home Office. In answering the telephone, he welcomed Mr. -Chapman gleefully, as having news they had wanted much. “There is a -prisoner at Walton Gaol, Liverpool,” he said, “whom they have for some -days suspected of being other than her declaration. We have wanted to -release her, but have not been able to find out who her people were.” -This was a most extraordinary thing for a Home Office official to say. -Why had they not released me to the W.S.P.U. organiser in Liverpool, -or asked me with whom they should communicate? And why were they more -anxious to set me free than the other Suffragettes? They had signed an -order for my release. The reason given was loss of weight; they did -not mention my heart, since they knew nothing about it! Mr. Thompson -recommended that my sister should telephone to the doctor at Walton -and he would arrange with the Governor to release me. With this news -Mr. Chapman went to my sister Emily, who was dining out. They rang up -Dr. Price, of Walton, and after communicating with him my sister felt -almost sure the prisoner was myself. Without a moment’s hesitation, and -dressed just as she was, she caught the midnight train to Liverpool, -where she arrived at about six in the morning. She reached the doctor’s -house at about seven and still was uncertain whether she would find me -in the prison. Dr. Price, after some talk, took her to the Governor’s -house. The Governor’s wife was very kind at that early hour and gave -her breakfast. She said she thought it was inhuman to dress the -prisoners in such frightfully ugly clothes, she felt only horror when -she looked at them; she would have different clothing for them if she -had anything to do with it. - -Dr. Price told my sister that he had written the report of me to the -Home Office. “I said she was spare, very spare, and that she had a -nose--I did not say aquiline, but of a somewhat Wellingtonian bend.” We -roared with laughter at this description of me. - -The following is my sister’s statement of a conversation which she -had with the doctor on arriving at Walton: “After a preliminary -conversation with Dr. Price in regard to what had taken place in -connection with our telephonic communication with him the previous -night, I asked him whether he could tell me anything with regard to my -sister’s behaviour in gaol and the treatment she had been obliged to -undergo. In reply, he stated that she had fasted for four days, that -he had begged her to take her food, and explained that if she refused -he would be obliged to forcibly feed her. As she had persisted in her -refusal, he had been obliged to feed her through the mouth up to the -date of her release, with the exception of one meal, which she took of -her own accord on Saturday morning. He further stated that, unlike some -other Suffragettes, she had shown no violence beyond refusing to take -her food, but that, in all his experience, he had never seen such a bad -case of forcible feeding. I asked him what he meant by a ‘bad case,’ -and he said ‘_She was practically asphyxiated every time._’ I then -told him that the medical officers at Holloway and Newcastle reported -to us that my sister was suffering from serious valvular disease of -the heart, and I asked him if his examination had led him to the same -conclusion. He replied ‘Certainly not. My subordinate’ (or some such -word), ‘who is a very clever doctor, thoroughly examined her heart -and found no trace of disease whatever,’ and I need hardly say that -this was a great relief to my mind, as the reports of the other prison -doctors had caused us so much anxiety. He further stated that, in spite -of the forcible feeding, my sister had lost weight at the rate of 2 -lbs. a day, and that, consequently, he had been obliged to advise her -being released. - -“Dr. Price several times repeated how much my sister had suffered from -the treatment, and, after I had told him about her heart, said that it -might possibly have been due to her heart condition, though he had not -been able to detect it.” - -My sister took me to their house in Bloomsbury Square, which we reached -at about 8.30 p.m. There was our friend, Mr. Chapman, to whom I gave a -brief account of my imprisonment. He went off with it the next day to -the Home Office Prison Department, and returned with the news that the -officials would be grateful to me if I would make a statement on paper, -whereupon they would have it investigated. There were reasons why they -would be very glad to have an open inquiry at Walton Gaol. - -All that night I woke off and on with cold, and also with terror at -the forcible feeding. My sister was most kind to me; she reheated my -hot-bottles and at last came and slept with me. I stayed in bed the -next morning (Monday, January 24). In the afternoon I saw some of my -friends--Mrs. Pethick Lawrence and Christabel Pankhurst. Some days -after, when she returned to London, I saw Mrs. Pankhurst. They were all -of them content with what I had done and the way I had done it. This -was a most tremendous joy and relief to me. - -I managed to write a letter to the _Times_ and an article for _Votes -for Women_. I could only do everything so slowly that I had not -finished these until eight o’clock the next morning, after writing all -night. I stayed in bed the whole of that day, Tuesday. On Wednesday -and Thursday (26th and 27th) I stayed in bed in the morning, but led -a more or less normal life after. These days I could hardly sit in a -chair, because my emaciated condition rendered it very painful; I ate -my meals, very often, kneeling down at the table on a cushion. - -On Tuesday, January 25, I wrote to Mr. Gladstone, the Home Secretary, -to explain that it was not as the newspapers said, to play a practical -joke upon him, that I had gone to prison in disguise. It was because -of the totally different category of treatment meted out to one set of -people from another, and the object of my disguise was to expose this -for the sake of bringing such a state of things to an end. - -On Monday, January 31, I woke with a blistered heel. I spoke at the -meeting at the Queen’s Hall, and it was heart-filling to meet all my -friends again; the whole audience seemed to understand. I stood for an -hour on one foot. On coming home I had to wait about to get a statement -finished and typewritten. I had written very carefully for the Home -Office of what happened to me in prison. After that I went to bed and -stopped there for six weeks. The next day, Tuesday, February 1, the -blister on my heel was much worse and my sister wished to send for a -doctor. I had always been ill in the country and did not know of one. -My sister called in Dr. Marion Vaughan, who from that moment was my -doctor, and after she had been to see me I had a nurse. This is her -report:-- - - “REPORT OF PHYSICAL CONDITION OF LADY CONSTANCE LYTTON. - - “Tuesday, February 1, 1910. - “21, THURLOE SQUARE, S.W. - “February 4, 1910. - - “I was called in to see Lady Constance Lytton, staying at 29, - Bloomsbury Square, W.C., on account of pain, swelling and reddening - of right leg and heel; with enlarged tender glands behind the - knee, associated with an inflamed blister on the heel.[12] There - was cellulitis of the right leg, extending to the knee. Both legs - were considerably swollen (evidently due to failing heart), though - the patient and her sister, Lady Emily Lutyens, said this was much - less marked than on the previous day. The patient’s look of extreme - illness, malnutrition, and bad colour led me to examine her heart - carefully. This I found to be in a serious condition, considerably - larger than normal, with its apex beat in 6th intercostal space, - 1½ inches beyond the nipple line; extremely irregular in force and - frequency, a marked difference between heart and pulse rate, due - to feeble transmission to terminal vessels. The heart sounds were - ‘trembling’ in character. The pulse then (February 1, 1910, at 10.30 - a.m.) and now is slow, small in volume and irregular; its rate varying - from 48 to 52 per minute. (There is perfectly clear evidence of mitral - disease of the heart, with præsystolic murmur.) The most superficial - examination of the heart cannot fail to reveal the grave risk to - health and life to which the patient was exposed during the forcible - methods of feeding recently adopted in Walton Gaol.” - - Report by DR. MARION HUNTER (MRS. VAUGHAN), Plague Medical - Officer to Government of India, 1897–1898; Plague Medical - Officer to British Government in Egypt, 1899; Assistant - Medical Officer to London County Council (Education) 4½ - years. - - FOOTNOTE: [12] The shoes in Walton Gaol were exceptionally stiff, - even, as it seemed to me, for prison footwear. They hurt my feet - badly and made the heel of my right foot very sore. As I have told, - after I broke my gas-jet, the shoes were changed to comfortable - slippers, but I think this accounted for the blister after my - release, when my foot came to life again. - -On Monday, January 31, Mr. Arthur Chapman wrote to Mr. Gladstone, -enclosing the statement which I had made, and begging for an interview, -in which he could explain matters to the full; this was refused. On -February 4 Mr. Chapman wrote again, appealing for a full and impartial -investigation. The following letter was received:-- - - “Please quote 187, 986/10, - “and address to the Under-Secretary of State, - “Home Office, London, S.W. - - “HOME OFFICE, WHITEHALL, - “9th February, 1910. - - “Sir,--With reference to your letter of the 31st ultimo, forwarding - statement made by Lady Constance Lytton, as to her treatment in H.M. - Prison, Liverpool, and your further letter of the 4th inst., I am - directed by the Secretary of State to say that he has caused careful - and detailed inquiry to be made by the Prison Commissioners into - the truth of the charges brought by Lady Constance Lytton against - the officers of the prison, and as the result of that inquiry he is - satisfied that those charges are without foundation and that there is - no justification for Lady Constance Lytton’s account of her experience - while she was in the prison. - - “The Secretary of State cannot discuss her statements in detail. A - single instance must suffice. Lady Constance, with a view to showing - that her treatment as ‘Jane Warton’ differed from her treatment when - her identity was known, asserts that, whereas she was thoroughly - examined at Holloway and Newcastle Prisons and was found to be - suffering from heart disease, no attempt was made to examine her at - Liverpool before she was forcibly fed. On reception at Liverpool - Prison on the 15th ultimo, Lady Constance refused to allow herself - to be examined and told the deputy medical officer, who was on duty, - that she was quite well. He asked her a second time to allow him to - examine her and she again refused. His evidence on this point is - corroborated by that of the wardress who was present, and the matter - is placed beyond doubt by the entry ‘refused examination’ which was - made at the time in the medical reception register at the prison. - Before artificially feeding her for the first time, the senior medical - officer applied his ear to the chest wall and satisfied himself that - the condition of her heart was such that the operation of artificial - feeding could, in the absence of active resistance by the patient, - be performed without any immediate risk of injury to her health. In - this connection you will observe that the diagnosis of the medical - officers at Holloway and Newcastle, arrived at after thorough - examination, is fully confirmed by the report of Lady Constance - Lytton’s own medical attendant, which you have been good enough to - forward. ‘Jane Warton’s’ foolish conduct in refusing to allow herself - to be examined and the deception which deprived the medical officers - of all knowledge of the medical history of her case, must be held - responsible for the fact that the true condition of her heart remained - undiscovered while she was in Liverpool Prison. When it was found that - the injury to her health caused by her persistent refusal to take - food could not be prevented by artificial feeding, her discharge was - recommended by the medical officer and was authorised by the Secretary - of State, and this was done before anyone at the Home Office or at - the prison was aware of her identity. The statement that the medical - officer was guilty of slapping his patient’s face is utterly devoid of - truth, and can only be the outcome of the imagination. - - “In these circumstances the Secretary of State does not consider - that any further inquiry as to the truth of the statements made - and published by Lady Constance Lytton is called for, and he must - therefore decline to accede to your request for further investigation. - - “I am, sir, - “Your obedient servant, - “(Signed) EDWARD TROUP.” - - “ARTHUR W. CHAPMAN, ESQ., - “33, Whitehall Court, S.W.” - -In this letter it seems to be thought that it does not matter -mis-stating things, provided the mis-statement is a small one, then the -small things can be added together. Even supposing everything to be -true in this letter, no mention is made of calling in the other doctor -five days before I was released, on purpose to test my heart. He did so -with a stethoscope on the heart itself, though anything but carefully, -and pronounced it quite sound. - -Eighteen days after my release I called in Dr. Anders Ryman, of 4, -Wetherby Place, to give me Swedish treatment. He found that my heart -had regained its normal size, but he thought my condition too critical -for any but the very mildest form of treatment; insisted on my being -kept entirely in bed, absolutely quiet, and forbade all visitors or -letters being brought to me. He would not let me be moved to the -country for another four weeks, and, even after that, urged me to exert -myself as little as possible and only walk upstairs backwards. He -seemed to be alarmed at the great fluctuations between the heart beat -when still and when I moved or spoke. - -During my imprisonment, the side of the jaw on which the gag was used -became painful and the whole mouth very sensitive, but five or six days -after release all swelling had subsided and pain was only occasional -and mild. About ten days after my release, the crown of my artificial -tooth broke away entirely. Owing to this and to sensitiveness in the -upper tooth affected, I did not use that side of my mouth in eating, -but I was unable to leave my bed to visit the dentist. Some time after -I was up the doctors urged upon me that I was still unfit to undergo -dental treatment. I went in March, but my dentist thought I could -not undergo any but a temporary treatment of the harmfully exposed -surfaces. It was not till April that full treatment was finally given; -that is why the date of the report made by the dentist is so long after -the release from prison:-- - - “10, PARK CRESCENT, - “Portland Place, W., - “April 14, 1910. - - “LADY CONSTANCE LYTTON. - - “In order to restore the masticatory efficiency of the left side of - the lower jaw, a bridge consisting of one gold crown and two porcelain - crowns was constructed. This was attached in May, 1896, and has - continued in satisfactory condition until the application of a gag, - recently employed in forcible feeding, cracked and broke away the - face of the crown of the bicuspid on the lower jaw, also breaking the - enamel of the upper natural tooth. - - “Sufficient force having been employed to occasion this damage, it was - feared that the root of the tooth which forms the front anchorage of - the bridge was split, but this is not the case, and the inflammatory - symptoms have now subsided. - - “H. UREN OLVER.” - -On February 3 came the news that Selina Martin and Elsie Howey were -released from Walton Gaol. I was by this time in bed and received no -news and no letters; when the information was brought to me, I felt -quite overwhelmed with joy. This release was more than three weeks -before their sentence had expired. - -By the time the last letter had been received from the Home Office, -February 9, my eldest brother had returned from abroad, and he took -up the case. All his attempts to have a public inquiry failed. Mr. -Gladstone was relieved of the Home Office preparatory to taking up the -work of High Commissioner in South Africa, and my brother pleaded in -vain with everyone that had to do with the matter. In the meantime, the -W.S.P.U. was asked not to take up my case in any way for fear that the -authorities would thereupon refuse to listen, and a letter from Sir -Edward Troup to the _Times_, in which he said there was no foundation -for the declarations against the officials, remained unanswered. - -On March 30, my brother had the following letter in the _Times_:-- - - “SIR,--On February 10 a letter was sent to the Press by Sir Edward - Troup, relative to a statement made by my sister, Lady Constance - Lytton, regarding her treatment in Liverpool Prison, in which he - declared on behalf of the Home Secretary that there was no foundation - for any of the charges which she had made. I am anxious to explain - why this official imputation of untruthfulness has hitherto remained - unanswered. - - “Lady Constance was seriously ill at the time as the result of - her prison experiences, and unable to defend herself. I therefore - undertook the task of vindicating her veracity. Before making any - public statement on her behalf I was anxious to find out what steps - had been taken by the Home Office to investigate the matters referred - to in her statement, and I hoped by a friendly intervention to secure - a full and impartial inquiry into all the circumstances of her - treatment by the prison officials. - - “I have had several communications with the Home Office on the - subject, and owing to the retirement of Mr. Gladstone and the - appointment of a new Home Secretary, they have necessarily been - protracted over a considerable period. My attitude throughout has - been entirely conciliatory, and the only claim which I have made was - that in the interests of justice, charges of this nature should be - submitted to a full and impartial inquiry which would, of course, - involve a separate examination of both the parties concerned. This - claim has been refused by the Home Office on the grounds that the - prison officials have been closely interrogated, and that as they deny - entirely every one of the charges made, ‘no useful purpose would be - served’ by granting my request. - - “In the absence of such an inquiry as I asked for, the matter must - be left to the opinion of unbiassed minds. I desire, however, to say - that nothing which I have been able to learn has in any way shaken my - belief in the substantial accuracy of my sister’s account. The idea - that her charges can be disposed of by the bare denial of the persons - against whom they are made, is not likely to commend itself to anyone - outside the Home Office, and no amount of denial can get over the - following facts:-- - - “1. Lady Constance Lytton, when imprisoned in Newcastle, after - refusing to answer the medical questions put to her and adopting the - hunger-strike, received a careful and thorough medical examination, - which disclosed symptoms of ‘serious heart disease,’ and on these - grounds she was released as unfit to submit to forcible feeding. - - “2. Three months later ‘Jane Warton,’ when imprisoned at Liverpool, - also refused to answer medical questions or to take prison food. On - this occasion she was entered in the prison books as having refused - medical examination, and was forcibly fed eight times. Such medical - examination as took place during the forcible feeding failed, - according to the medical officer’s report, to disclose any symptoms of - heart disease, and she was eventually released on the grounds of loss - of weight and general physical weakness. - - “These facts are incontrovertible, and though the Home Office is quite - satisfied that in both cases the prison officials performed their - duty in the most exemplary fashion, your readers will form their - own opinions of the justice of a Government Department which brings - accusations of untruthfulness against an individual whilst refusing - the only means by which the truth can be established. - - “I am, your obedient servant, - “LYTTON.” - -My brother did not give up his efforts till in April Mr. Winston -Churchill, the new Home Secretary, who was well known to him, came to -stay at Knebworth, his country place. Mr. Churchill read through the -whole case, until he came to the report of the letter to my mother -written on the slate. “’Twould be hopeless,” he said, “to bring forward -any complaint with this letter in the background.” I don’t know, of -course, what they had made of it, as it had been rubbed out long ago, -but I know that I had not told my mother anything of the treatment. I -had said that the forcible feeding was “only pain”--so it was. - -In the autumn of this year, 1910, I had a slight heart-seizure. I got -out of bed in the morning, and was taken with paralysis down one side. -I could not move for about an hour, when I managed to crawl back to -bed. I had a nurse for six weeks and then it was over. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE CONCILIATION BILL - - -On June 12, 1910, I received a letter from Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, in -which she told me that I had been made a paid organizer to the Union, -at £2 a week, and that the committee wished to make this appointment -retrospective for the past six months from January, 1910. I felt very -much honoured and pleased. It enabled me to take a small flat in -London near the Euston Road, so that I was not far from the office at -Clement’s Inn and close, too, to a good many railway stations. It was -quicker for me than having to go home to the country when I was on -speaking tours, and also far more convenient for the London work. - -In February, 1910, a truce was called after the elections. -Mr. Gladstone, made Lord Gladstone, went to South Africa as -Governor-General, and he was succeeded by Mr. Winston Churchill at the -Home Office. Mr. Brailsford had spent much time and effort negotiating -between all the Suffrage parties in the House of Commons, and he as -secretary, and my brother, Lord Lytton, as president, negotiated a -committee for the “Conciliation Bill.” This is the Bill in full:-- - - “THE CONCILIATION BILL FOR WOMAN SUFFRAGE. - - “A Bill to confer the Parliamentary Franchise on Women. - - “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 for - 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 from 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.” - -That is the Bill which was slightly modified in 1911, so as to remove -any reasonable fear of plural or faggot voting. It looked as if the -Conciliation Bill had everything in its favour and that it would pass. -Ninety city, town and county councils, and thirty district councils -petitioned or passed resolutions that the Bill should become law. -These included the city councils of Birmingham, Bradford, Cardiff, -Dublin, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Leeds, Liverpool, Manchester, Newcastle, -Nottingham, Sheffield. In 1910 the Bill was carried on second reading -by a majority of 110. In 1911 it was again read a second time and -secured a majority of 167. Among those who voted for it were Mr. -Birrell, Mr. John Burns, Sir Edward Grey, Mr. Runciman; Mr. Balfour, -Mr. Bonar Law, Mr. Lyttelton, Mr. Wyndham; Mr. Barnes, Mr. Keir Hardie, -Mr. Ramsay Macdonald, Mr. Snowden; Mr. Devlin, Mr. Healy, Mr. Swift -MacNeill, Mr. W. Redmond. All parties made friends over it. - -On Friday, November 18, 1910, Mr. Asquith made a statement in the House -of Commons omitting all reference to Woman Suffrage, but announcing the -Dissolution for Monday, November 28. On learning that Mr. Asquith had -definitely decided to shelve the Conciliation Bill, it was determined -to send a Deputation to him forthwith. At the head were Mrs. Pankhurst, -the founder of the W.S.P.U. and Mrs. Garatt Anderson, twice Mayor of -Aldeburgh, who is one of the pioneer women doctors and sister of Mrs. -Fawcett. Among other well-known women were Mrs. Hertha Ayrton, the -distinguished scientist, Mrs. Cobden Sanderson, Mrs. Saul Solomon, -Mrs. Brackenbury, widow of General Brackenbury, over seventy years of -age, Miss Neligan, who is seventy-eight years of age, the Hon. Mrs. -Haverfield, and the Princess Sophia Dhuleep Singh. The Deputation was -composed of 300 women, but was divided into detachments of twelve -each. They were not received and were treated worse than any since the -conflict between women and the Government began. The orders of the Home -Secretary were, it appears, that the police were to be present, both -in uniform and in plain clothes among the crowd, and that the women -were to be thrown from one to the other. The police were guilty both -of torture and of indecency. The women were accused of violence and -mendacity. Reports were afterwards made by Lord Robert Cecil, K.C., -and Mr. Ellis J. Griffith, K.C., M.P., on the women whom they had -examined. Lord Robert Cecil writes in his letter to the _Times_:-- - - “All that can be said at present is that the women strenuously deny - that they were guilty of any such violence. If they were, it is at - least curious that they were not immediately arrested, and that, as I - understand, no evidence of any serious assault was offered against any - of those who were ultimately brought before the Court.... - - “Mr. Churchill accuses them of mendacity. Such an accusation requires - more than the _ipse dixit_ of a Minister to support it. Nor is it in - accordance with the principles of British justice to reject without - investigation the evidence of scores of apparently respectable women. - - “In conclusion, may I ask whether anyone thinks that if the Deputation - had consisted of unarmed men of the same character, their demand - for an inquiry would have been refused? Who can doubt that the Home - Secretary and the other Ministers would have tumbled over one another - in their eagerness to grant anything that was asked? Are we then to - take it as officially admitted that in this country there is one law - for male electors and another for voteless women? - - “Yours obediently, - “ROBERT CECIL.” - -Mr. Ellis Griffith wrote at the end of his letter to the _Times_:-- - - “It is certainly difficult, under the circumstances, to bring - responsibility home to individuals, but I am amply satisfied that - there was unnecessary and excessive violence used against the women - who took part in the Deputation, and that they were assaulted in a way - that cannot be justified. - - “Under these circumstances, I strongly support a searching and - impartial inquiry.... - - “Yours faithfully, - “ELLIS J. GRIFFITH.” - -The Home Secretary refused all idea of a public inquiry. - -The morning after the Deputation, Saturday, November 19, 1910, those -who had been arrested the night before were all dismissed; it was -thought bad election tactics to be responsible for the imprisonment of -women of good reputation who were merely fighting for their freedom. - -Mr. Asquith on Friday, November 18, promised that he would make a -statement about the Women’s Bill on the following Tuesday. On Tuesday, -November 22, accordingly, it was made: “The Government will, if -they are still in power, give facilities in the next Parliament for -effectively proceeding with a Bill which is so framed as to admit of -free amendment.” The statement fulfilled none of the conditions which -had been made by the W.S.P.U. We held that the pledge must be to give -full facilities for a Woman Suffrage Bill next Session--next Parliament -was a mockery of a pledge. The Bill in question must be no more -extended in scope than the Bill introduced by Mr. Shackleton or the -Women’s Enfranchisement Bill introduced two years ago by Mr. Stanger. -A pledge to give facilities to a Bill on a so-called democratic basis -would be worthless, it would not have a chance of passing through -either House of Parliament. - -The House rose immediately when Mr. Asquith had made his statements. -The women waited this pronouncement in the Caxton Hall, and on receipt -of it marched to Downing Street, Mrs. Pankhurst at their head, to see -Mr. Asquith. Here the detachment of police at first was small and the -line was broken by the onrush of the women. But reinforcements of -police rapidly arrived and a severe struggle ensued. Many women were -hurt who were thrown about the street or crushed, and there were 150 to -160 charged at the police court the next day. In the evening parties -of women visited the houses of the Cabinet and threw stones, breaking -some of their windows. Mr. Muskett, who prosecuted the next day, -withdrew all the cases of “simple obstruction,” and only allowed the -cases of “stone-throwing and assault.” From the day of “Black Friday,” -as November 18, 1910, was called, stone-throwing became easy to the -women--it ensured arrest instead of being assaulted and injured. - -This was the eve of the election. The policy of the W.S.P.U. was -to oppose all Liberal candidates unless they could get a definite -pledge from the Prime Minister that, if in power, he would allow the -Conciliation Bill to be taken through all its stages next Session. The -Liberals were returned, still commanding a Parliamentary majority in -the House of Commons, and the House of Commons contained an even larger -majority of members prepared to vote for a practicable scheme of Woman -Suffrage, on the lines of the Conciliation Bill. In May, 1911, this -Bill was brought in by Sir Alfred Mond; it triumphantly passed the -second reading by a majority of 167. - -In June Lord Lytton had written to Mr. Asquith asking for assurances -(1) that the facilities offered for next Session were intended as -an effective opportunity for carrying the Bill, and not merely for -academic discussion; (2) that the week offered would not be construed -rigidly, and also that provided the Committee stage were got through -in the time, additional days for report and third reading would be -forthcoming; and (3) that there would be reasonable opportunities for -making use of the closure. To this Mr. Asquith replied (on Friday, June -16, 1911):-- - - “MY DEAR LYTTON,--In reply to your letter on the subject of facilities - for 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 express the intentions 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 obstacle to a 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 - would 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.” - -This letter was further certified in August:-- - - “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 for the ‘Conciliation Bill,’ will be strictly adhered to, - both in letter and spirit. - - “Yours sincerely, - “H. H. ASQUITH. - - “August 23, 1911.” - -This promise, after the phenomenal majority in the House of Commons, -was a solemn pledge made by Mr. Asquith to be fulfilled in the next -year. It was a pledge which the friends of women took absolutely in -good faith. On the strength of it, the truce was prolonged in 1911 with -belief in the guarantee for the following year. - -On November 7, 1911, Mr. Asquith announced to a deputation of the -People’s Suffrage Federation that he was going to bring in a Manhood -Suffrage Bill next Session. There was no agitation or demand for more -votes for men; this was in answer to the widespread demand of votes -for women. The majority already recorded for Woman Suffrage in the -House of Commons was composed of members of all political parties. -The Government’s present policy destroyed this composite majority by -alienating Unionists and moderate Liberals. In other words, it rendered -impossible the non-party solution of the Woman Suffrage question, -towards which we had been working for months. We consented to the -Conciliation Bill because it gave virtual equality to women with men, -and because it made inevitable the equality of the sexes under any -subsequent franchise measure. But we absolutely refused to accept the -Conciliation Bill as the accompaniment of Manhood Suffrage Bill. - -We and many other of the Suffrage Societies were received in deputation -by Mr. Asquith, only to be told the case over again. He had not changed -his opinion since 1908. The Manhood Suffrage Bill would make no -difference to us, who could bring in an amendment! - -The leaders of the W.S.P.U. determined to go on a deputation to the -House of Commons on Tuesday, November 21, with Mrs. Pethick Lawrence -to lead them. I intended to accompany them as a stone-thrower; the -police on Black Friday (1910) had made the other way--that of going on -a deputation--impossible for me, unless I were to see death, and this -seemed useless. It was an understood thing that this time, if we were -imprisoned, we should not hunger-strike. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -HOLLOWAY REVISITED: MY FOURTH IMPRISONMENT - - -I determined that I would do my work alone. I was afraid that, if -I combined with others, I might fail them, through illness, when -they counted on me. Some days later Miss Lawless said she would come -too, and, as she kindly chose to do the job with me, all was well. I -selected a post office window in Victoria Street, on the left-hand -side, facing Westminster. I went to buy some stamps there the day -before to make sure of my bearings. I studied all the windows where it -would be safe, and where not safe, to do the work of smashing without -hurting anyone inside. - -A friend, Mrs. MacLeod, came to see me the evening before, November -20, 1911. She brought me flowers, lovely lilies-of-the-valley and two -bunches of violets. She told me she had bought them in Piccadilly from -a girl that was sitting round the fountain. “They are for a friend of -mine who is going to fight for the women to-morrow”; she wasn’t sure -she had said it in a way the girl could understand. “Oh! May God bless -her, God bless them all! Here, lady, take this extra bunch of violets -for her.” She called this out enthusiastically, as she collected the -flowers. - -This time I had a small hammer as well as three stones wrapped in -paper. The hammer, of course, was the safest as well as the most -efficient of my tools, but one had to be quite near to the window in -order to use it. Another dear friend, Dr. Alice Ker, came to me from -Liverpool on the day, Tuesday, November 21. She was coming to the fray -in Westminster, but she did not wish to get arrested. Towards six -o’clock we took a taxi and went together to the beginning of Victoria -Street. Then we got out and each went our own way. I walked up and down -the street, first along one side, then along the other, and I inspected -the side parallel streets. Victoria Street I had always supposed was -rather a long one, but on this occasion it was infinitely short, and -I seemed to pass the same people over and over again. Once I jumped -into a ’bus to go up again towards Westminster, and there I came across -many of my friends, who doubtless were going to the preliminary meeting -at Caxton Hall. At last when standing, as it seemed to me, for the -fiftieth time in front of a door with pillars, which was our trysting -place, I met Miss Lawless and soon after Miss Douglas Smith, who had -said she would join us for a little, as she had to go to all who were -“active” in Victoria Street. We turned into a “Lyons” for some tea, the -whole place was full of our friends and a detective or two. A cat was -there; she came to lie on my lap and I had to turn her off when we left. - -The time was getting near; we were to wait until the clock struck 8; we -were none of us to move before and not much later. At last there was a -noise of many people coming round the corner of a street; it was Mrs. -Pethick Lawrence walking at the head of her Deputation. A large crowd -surrounded them and cheered them on their way to Westminster. Miss -Lawless and I had taken up our position already on the steps leading -to the post office we had selected. As soon as the Deputation had -passed, the clock of Big Ben began striking eight. I said, “I can wait -no longer,” and I turned and smashed the glass of two doors and one -window. I raised my arms and did it deliberately, so that every one in -the street could see. Miss Lawless smashed the windows to my right. We -were going down the steps and I was afraid no policemen had been near, -when two came from over the way. All was peaceable and friendly. My -policeman said to me with a smile, “I’ll take you this way, lady, see? -And that won’t inconvenience you.” With that he adjusted his grasp at -my elbow. I said to him: “Unless you are obliged, don’t hurry your pace -more than you can help,” and he walked at my pace through Westminster -to Cannon Row. He also disarmed me, taking my hammer. In Westminster -the crowd was immense and at the bottom of Whitehall, but we got -through all right, and Miss Lawless kept close behind me. - -Cannon Row was already crowded with women. We stood in a closely packed -ring to give our names, and afterwards our names were called out before -we went upstairs. To my surprise and great delight Lady Sybil Smith -was there. I knew she herself had been wishing to go on a deputation -for some time. We were taken into the cells to be searched, but this -was not the grim business that it sounds. We were left to walk quite -by ourselves; a policeman showed us in and we were put four or five -together in a cell. The door was left open, and a wardress asked -respectfully if she might search us. We said, “Yes, most certainly,” -and began to deliver up our stones. The wardress’s face was all -kindness, and no sooner had the policeman gone away from the door than -she burst out with: “Oh! you ladies, I’d be with you to-morrow if -it weren’t for my child. I am a widow with one child. If only these -politicians knew what that meant! They can talk fine about the widow, -but when it comes to her earning a livelihood they don’t help her.” It -seemed wonderful, she understood. Meanwhile she was picking out the -stones from our pockets. We were allowed to go back to the central -room as soon as it was finished, we left a friend behind us in the -wardress. Upstairs, in the policemen’s billiard room, we sat in crowds, -and everything was noticeably different from last time. All was joy and -triumph, and there seemed the echo of these from the street. I felt -quite an old hand, and was going about the room collecting telegrams; -I had bought a packet of forms on the chance. A policeman was singled -out and stood waiting for them in a meek and respectful attitude. One -woman, who looked about sixty or sixty-five, had written a telegram but -had put no signature; I asked if there was to be none. She hesitated -for a moment and then added: “Well--put Mother.” I thought it must -be rather trying when it was a “daughter,” but much more when it was -a “mother,” and she getting on in years. There was a girl lying down -in the window recess where I had gone with my cough last time; she -was ashy pale. I went up to her and asked her if she felt ill. Her -face immediately lit up with a radiant smile--“I’m not ill now, but -I have been for three months.” I said how wonderful was the feeling -of the movement, as one realised the difference which a year had made -it was impossible that one should feel depressed, though one might be -depressed for oneself. “No,” she said, “I am never depressed now.” Had -she a mother? “Oh! mother would be here too, only she is a cripple.” - -Mrs. Pethick Lawrence had come and was given a great cheer. She -looked well and beamingly happy. The Deputation had been much more -hustled about than we who had done damage, but still, there was no -real roughness that I could hear of, and they had been arrested -comparatively quickly. Mr. Lawrence’s welcome face came and he bailed -us out, though it was a long business this time. When we drove away, -every window in Whitehall bore the mark of the women upon it, with the -unmistakable smashing, till it looked, as I passed, as though every -window smiled. - -On Wednesday, November 22, I sent off a telegram, saying that I was -arrested, to our organiser at Liverpool for a meeting at which I was -going to speak. It was a joint meeting of W.S.P.U., National Unionist -and Conservative Suffragists; Lord Selborne was to speak for the -Conservatives. It had been arranged when we were at peace with the -Government; that peace was now at an end. I then went to Bow Street. -There were crowds of women; we each took luggage and wraps, for under -Mr. Winston Churchill’s new rule we were allowed to wear our own -day and night clothes, and not obliged to have prison food. There -was no difference in being allowed to see visitors or have letters. -Books not dealing with current events were allowed, but one could not -take them out of prison. At Bow Street we were put into the big room -upstairs; again a policemen’s billiard room. Large as it was, it was -very crowded, and I kept my seat on my luggage in the passage outside. -Amongst others, there was a little American woman, whose husband stuck -by her like a man till he should be separated by imprisonment. They had -been in India, had heard much there about the Suffragettes, and one -lady with whom they had dined had warned him against his wife becoming -one of them. I saw there two Hertfordshire members, which did my -heart good, when I remembered that a little time ago the whole county -was asleep. Whenever I was able, I sat back on my luggage and wrote -letters; it was the only way I could escape from talking to everyone, -which was most delightful but I was very tired. We waited all day to -learn in the evening that we must return to-morrow. I went to my mother -from Bow Street who was staying in London at that time. - -Three times this autumn, after making a speech, I had been taken with -heart-seizure and incapacitated for about a quarter of an hour. On -Thursday morning, November 23, I was ill, on waking, with a heart -collapse. In spite of my best efforts, I could scarcely hold up my head -or speak. Mrs. Francis Smith, one of my dearest friends, had come to my -rooms to see how I was, and she determined to call at Bow Street and -find out for me if I could not put off going there till the afternoon. -She came back, saying that she had had an interview with Inspector -A----, who had already shown great kindness to me, and he had said I -was not to trouble about the morning, that it would do quite well if -I came in the afternoon. I lay down on my bed till nearly 2 o’clock, -when I felt much better. Then I went to Bow Street. The woman who did -my room came with me and carried my luggage; she also fetched me milk -into the police station. She knew several of the policeman personally, -so she managed everything very easily. I went on a deputation with Mrs. -Haverfield and Mrs. Mansell-Moulin to Inspector A----, to say that -unless the women could be told on leaving whether they would be wanted -the next day, they would not go away. As this meant finding cells for -all of us--we were 220 women in all--probably we should have to be put -four or five in a cell together; it was speedily arranged and we were -told that night when we should be wanted; I was one of those who came -the following day. I went again that evening to my mother. - -The next morning, Friday, November 24, I woke all right and went to -Bow Street quite happily. Before our trial we were taken down into the -passage next the police court, and put _vis-à-vis_ to the policemen who -had arrested us, as at my first trial. The magistrate was Sir Albert -de Rutzen, who was too old for his work. Miss Lawless was accused -with me. The hammers and stones were shown in witness against us, and -the damage estimated at £3 15_s_. Mr. Muskett, the prosecutor, in -totalling up my record, mentioned that I had been to Holloway after a -deputation to the House of Commons, and in Newcastle I was imprisoned -for throwing a stone at a motor car, but he did not mention “Jane -Warton” at Liverpool. When I reminded him that he had left her out, -he said testily, “Well, I’m very glad if I have.” I said it was quite -true that I used a hammer and stones to break windows. I realised that -this was the only effective means of protest left to us by a Government -which boasts of Liberalism and representation where men are concerned, -but ignores the elementary principles of representation where women are -concerned. Votes and riot are the only form of appeal to which this -Government will respond. They refuse us votes, we fall back on riot. -The wrongs they inflict on women are intolerable, and we will no longer -tolerate them---- Here the magistrate interrupted me; he could not -enter into a discussion on the subject, and referred to the fact that -Mr. Asquith had received a deputation last Friday. I said, “I heard Mr. -Asquith say he would do nothing in regard to women.” The magistrate -then advocated peaceful agitation. I answered that this Government -have said they will do absolutely nothing as a Government, and Mr. -Asquith is exactly where he was in 1908; all our peaceful agitation -has been valueless in his eyes. I said that although we committed the -acts alleged, we were not guilty of crime, our conduct being fully -justified by the circumstances of the case. “I appeal to you, Sir, to -vindicate the fundamental laws of liberty which our country has revered -for generations,” and with that I concluded. Miss Leslie Lawless said -that if to fight for one’s liberty was a crime, she was guilty, but she -pleaded not guilty, as that was the only protest that this Government -understood. Our sentence was one of a fine of 40_s._ and 37_s._ 6_d._ -damage each, or fourteen days’ imprisonment--half the sentence that -I had received when I went to the House of Commons, doing absolutely -nothing and being mauled by the police. - -We were not put into the cells, but again taken upstairs to a room -close to the larger one. There was my friend, Adela Smith, with Olive -Schreiner’s friend, Mrs. Purcell, and Mrs. Tudor, of St. Albans. All -these were not among the condemned, but had been let in to see their -friends. Towards half-past five Inspector A---- came and told me that -presently a taxi would be round to take me to Holloway, that there -would be a policeman inside, but that the other two could be any -“fellow criminals” I liked. I at once chose Mrs. Leigh, who had been -condemned to two months’ imprisonment, though she was said only to have -struck a policeman in defence of another woman. I was immensely proud -to take her with me. I also chose Miss Lawless. The policeman was in -plain clothes and very amiable. Miss Lawless discovered that she had -left her purse behind. We went back for it, and, on arriving at Bow -Street, I decided that the constable should get out with Miss Lawless, -put her in charge of another policeman, then return and mount guard on -us. He was delighted to do this. From the point of view of our safety, -of course, nothing could have been more absurd; we were not in the -courtyard of the police-station, and nothing would have been easier -than to open the door the other side of the pavement and, with the -noise of the street, Mrs. Leigh or I could have escaped. But it was -understood all round that this was not the game, and we waited quietly -for the policeman to return and, finally, Miss Lawless and the purse. - -At Holloway all was civility; it was unrecognisable from the first time -I had been there. There were no reception cells for us, but we were -taken at once to our separate cells in D X, where, after a time the -Matron, and afterwards the doctor came to see us. Nothing could have -been more charming than the Matron--another woman than had been there -before. She asked me at once after Miss Davison; was she coming this -time? The Matron had been at Manchester when the hose-pipe had been -played on her. This she asked before two wardresses, and in a voice -of sympathetic intonation. I said I did not think she was coming this -time, but it would not be long probably before she was in prison again. -Then came Dr. Sullivan. His manner was kind, as it had always been, -but I no longer felt the same towards him since he had fed some of the -prisoners by force. He said at once, after testing my heart, that I -could not stay there, but must go at once to hospital. I said I was -much more comfortable where I was than in the general ward, and that -I could not sleep there. He said he meant to put me in a cell apart. -I was then moved over to the hospital side. There on the ground floor -was the superintendent officer I had known before. I smiled, but she -looked as if she did not recognise me. She went with me upstairs. “I -believe,” I said, as she opened a door, “it is the very same cell I had -before.” “No,” she answered, “the one next door,” and her reserve, to -my great delight, broke down. I unpacked my flannel sheets, my flannel -nightgown, and my long bed-socks, and made myself ready for the night. -It was almost unbelievable to have so much comfort in a place which -before had been the very acme of discomfort. They brought me a pint mug -of milk and a small white loaf before the night. It was about eight -o’clock by the time I got to bed, but the hours, I supposed, were the -same as they had been in Holloway before, and besides, I was dead tired. - -The next day, Saturday, November 25, I felt ill in the morning. The -prison was scarce of food--at least, there were no vegetables; they -gave me bread and butter and a pudding for luncheon. The Governor came, -Dr. Scott, and he was amiability itself, I was only to take care of -myself. Since all was made easy, I stayed in bed that day. - -The girl who was let in to wash my floor was fair-haired, with a most -pleasant and intelligent face. I longed to know about her, but a -wardress stood at the door looking on at her work all the time, and I -did not once catch her eye. On Sunday, November 26, I felt no better -and again stayed in bed. The second doctor, a new man, who was pleasant -in his manner, came to see me. In the morning when I had been let out -to the sink, the little prisoner who washed my floor met me coming out. -My back was turned for a moment; she patted my shoulder and said, in a -tone of voice of utmost comfort, “Cheer up!” By the time I looked round -she was off somewhere else and no one would have supposed that she had -communicated with me. After that I was determined to get some snatch -conversation with her when she was in my cell. When she washed out that -morning, I said to her--it was always the first thing--“How long have -you got?” “Three years,” was the answer. This greatly surprised me, -for Holloway was not the place for long sentences, but I could not ask -her then, there was not time to tell, only time for bare questions and -answers. I asked, “What was it for?” “Stealing my mother’s skirt,” she -said. This was more startling than ever. Where was the mother’s skirt -one could “steal”? But the wardress looked in and we were obliged to -stop. On another occasion she told me that she had been very ill on -first coming to Holloway, and that was why she had been kept there. -Another time she slipped this notice under the door, and signalled to -me by opening the gas-jet glass from the passage. On one side of the -little torn bit of paper was written, “Z-- A--, Boardstil Institution, -Hailsbray”; on the other side, “I shall be glad to hear from you -because I have no friends at all and it will cheer me up.” I longed to -speak to her, but I did not see her again after this. It was my last -morning in prison when she put this paper under the door. After I came -out I, of course, wrote to her, thanked her for her cheering words to -me, asked if I might go and see her, and sent her a little 3_d._ book -of extracts from my father’s poems. I sent these to the chaplain at -Aylesbury and asked him if he would deliver them. He sent my letter -back, saying that he would not be allowed to give it, for she had -already chosen as her correspondent her grandmother or some old lady. -I do not know anything of her, of her failings or virtues; I only know -that there was no loosening the net that clung round her so tightly for -three years. - -On Sunday, November 26, in the afternoon I went out to exercise. This -was indeed a changed world. All of us assembled were walking about -arm in arm, as we liked, in rows facing each other, or round the -ground; some of us went apart in a little side-walk, all talking to -one another, and all, of course, wearing our own clothes. One or two -wardresses were there, but they were smiling all the time and chatted -with us. One of them asked me why I had not come to visit Holloway. I -told her that they would not allow “criminals” to come back except as -prisoners, that I had tried in vain. She said I could come as someone -who visited the cooking places, or something of that kind. I was afraid -I was too well known in Holloway, as I had paid rather frequent visits -to the Governor. I saw and walked with Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, arm in -arm, and nothing that we did caused any disturbance. - -On Monday, November 27, I stayed in bed again, and at about 11 o’clock -the doctor came and offered me vegetable soup from outside, and massage -from my masseur-doctor, Mr. May. I said surely that would not be -allowed! He told me that of course in the ordinary course of things it -was not allowed, but, if I wished for it, he would see what he could -do. I refused all these offers, which were not, so far as I knew, -offered to the others. I heard after my release, how my dear friends -had put themselves about to get me all these things, and how my servant -had brought soup to the prison every day, which she had made. I had -a tin of biscuits sent in to me and some orange sweets. As I was not -feeling well, I was unable to eat these, but I managed to give a good -many to the girls who washed my cell. I only once got a look into the -general ward. I saw Mrs. Mansell-Moullin, Mrs. Mansel and others, but -it did not seem to be the thing for the prisoners from the cells to -go into the general ward. That night Mrs. Mansel came in to see me -from there. She and some others were to be released the next day. She -had suffered from influenza and had a bad time of it while she was in -prison. We had a long talk, and she gave me _The Man-made World_, by -Charlotte Perkins Gilman, to read, as a wonderful book that had just -come out. She was not allowed to take it out with her. The publisher, -Mr. Fisher Unwin, had kindly sent me the book, but I had not yet had -time to read it. I read it that night and found it all that she had -said--a most remarkable book. It is dedicated to a man, showing that -the woman’s movement has in it nothing, as is sometimes supposed, -against men, but only against the vices of some men. In a chapter -called “Crime and Punishment,” this passage struck me with intense -truth: “Does a child offend? Punish it! Does a woman offend? Punish -her! Does a man offend? Punish him! Does a group offend? Punish them! -‘What for?’ someone suddenly asks. ‘To make them stop doing it!’ ‘But -they have done it.’ ‘To make them not do it again, then.’ ‘But they do -it again and worse.’ ‘To prevent other people’s doing it, then.’ But it -does not prevent them--the crime keeps on. What good is your punishment -to crime? Its base, its prehistoric base, is simply retaliation.” - -On Tuesday, November 28, I felt much better and went out to exercise in -the morning. While there I was summoned to see the Governor. He told -me that my fine had been paid anonymously and that I was free. Among -my friends there is none that I can think of who would have paid my -fine; my state of health, I suppose, after the forcible feeding, was -“dangerous,” and it was thought safest to pay the fine “officially.” -To my great surprise, the superintendent came with me to my flat. -She was very dear but quite “official.” As I had packed up my things -rather quickly, I felt ill and not inclined to talk much. She told me -how very overworked the superintendent officers had been with the 220 -Suffragette prisoners there were this time, she herself sometimes not -getting to bed till one or two in the morning. She looked very tired -and I felt very sorry for her. It seemed hard that, when they made us -prisoners, so much extra work should fall upon the wardresses. When -we reached the Duke’s Road, I did not like to ask her into my rooms, -not knowing who would be there, so I said good-bye to her, kissed her, -and begged her to take back the taxi at my expense. This, however, she -refused to do; she preferred to go home by omnibus, and we parted at -the front door. I went upstairs and found three of my friends. We were -delighted to see each other, but they soon went away, and I rolled -wearily into bed. - -I frequently had to lie up during the winter and spring months -that followed. On May 5, 1912, I had a stroke and my right arm was -paralysed; also, slightly, my right foot and leg. I was taken from my -flat to my sister Emily Lutyen’s house, and for many long months she -and my mother and Dr. Marion Vaughan were kindness itself to me. From -that day to this I have been incapacited for working for the Women’s -Social and Political Union, but I am with them still with my whole soul. - -And what is this which yet comes to us from the prisons? The torture -of the “Cat-and-Mouse” Act and of forcible feeding! Oh! if only -people could know what these things signify! But surely they must -understand that they are barbarous practices such as we have not -tolerated for long in our prisons. “Cat-and-Mouse” Act--what does it -mean? The prisoner does not eat or drink, nothing to pass the lips; -it may be three days, it may be a week, it may be nine days. Then the -prisoner is let out, watched day and night, and taken back to prison, -back to hunger and thirst, till she is again at death’s door. This -they do twice, three times, four times, five times, till life is all -but out. Not yet have the Government admitted that they will stop -the “Cat-and-Mouse” torture short of death itself. And the forcible -feeding--what is that? The only possible excuse for it is that it -prolongs the prisoner’s sentence by so many days, so many weeks, and -that is all. But heed what it is. I have described it exactly as it -was done to me. See what it has meant in the recent case of Mary -Richardson. It took eight wardresses and one man to overcome her. On -two occasions it was said: “Twist her arms--the only way to unlock -them.” They held her feet by pressing in the hollow of her ankles. -Occasionally the doctor pressed her in the chest to hold her down. He -announced that he was going to use the stomach tube. As he could not -get through her teeth, he put his fingers to the extremity of her jaw, -and with his finger-nail deliberately cut her gum and cheek until her -mouth was bleeding badly. He then inserted the gag and stomach tube, -but she was so choked by the process that he stopped the feeding, and -said he would return to the nasal tube. This is inhuman, like the -feeding of a beast--no, of an insentient thing. Where is the gain? -A week or several weeks more of imprisonment, and you have let in -torture to our form of punishment; yes, and repeated torture, for these -prisoners are let out by the “Cat-and-Mouse” Act, and, on those ghastly -terms, the police will mount guard on them to seize them again if, -according to their judgment, they have regained sufficient fitness. - -And why are these women imprisoned? Because they and many thousands, or -rather several millions, of women with them, have asked for the vote, -but the Government would not give it to them. For forty-five years -women have supported their demand in Parliament for enfranchisement -with ever increasing vigour. Petitions, processions, meetings and -resolutions all over the country were infinitely greater in number -than have been achieved for any other reform. When the Conciliation -Bill was framed, women waited to see what the Government would do for -them; the vote on the second reading of the Bill, for the second time, -was immense. Women listened to the pledges of the Government and they -seemed to hold out a certainty of the vote. Now, when these promises -have all been broken, women have taken to burning empty houses, railway -stations and stacks, though they have respected life and refrained from -wounding, as men would do for far less a cause. Yes, and they will burn -buildings until they are treated rationally as an equal part of the -human race. - -I hear the cry go up from all parts of the country, “How long? How -long?” The time is fully ripe, when will women be represented in -Parliament by the vote, equally with men? - - -BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. - - - - -SOME PRESS OPINIONS - - - “The author has written her book with a broadness of sympathy that - adds dignity and conviction to a document of commendable frankness. - It should serve as a presage of hope and reform for those who suffer - by our present penal system; it also sheds much needed light on the - hidebound officialism that is responsible for what Lady Constance - Lytton has experienced and portrayed. This is, perhaps, the first time - that the inequalities of treatment meted out to the rich and poor has - been so clearly expressed in book form.” - --_Athenæum._ - - “It is the clever and eloquent plea of a remarkable woman.” - --_Pall Mall Gazette._ - - “_A deeply impressive work_ ... holds the attention from the first, - and leaves an impression that is likely to prove indelible ... it - is impossible to read this narrative without being struck by the - sustained heroism that has been exhibited.” - --_Daily Telegraph._ - - “This sincere and illuminating book ... an extremely fine and - sensitive study of an English lady.” - --_Westminster Gazette._ - - “A very moving and remarkable addition to the literature of the - prison.... This unpretending and generous volume is likely to be one - of the classic books of reference in regard to the sufferings of the - revolutionary woman.” - --_Daily News._ - - “One of the most fascinating books you ever read.” - --_Manchester Courier._ - - “Her story is certainly impressive. As a piece of literature it is - admirable, and as a contribution to our knowledge of what prison life - is and of what its effect upon the individual may be it is important - and valuable.” - --_Liverpool Daily Post._ - - “Its direct and immediate appeal extends far beyond the confine of - any movement, however significant and great. It is a story for all - sorts and all conditions of women and men, irrespective of individual - differences in matters of political and social faith.” - --_Votes for Women._ - - “Constance Lytton is an incarnation of the Christ spirit, if ever - there was one. The story of her deeds--the motive that inspired - them--is worthy of being enshrined in the Sacred Books of the - race.” - --_Christian Commonwealth._ - - “... not politics but psychology, and a fluent and brilliant - exposition it is.” - --_Observer._ - - “... life itself, facts lived and suffered within the past year - or two, an autobiography written with the tears and blood of a - woman.... Her book is a tragic document which leaves a man sad and - wondering.” - --_Graphic._ - - - - -A LIST OF - -CURRENT FICTION - -PUBLISHED BY - -WILLIAM HEINEMANN - -AT 21 BEDFORD ST., LONDON, W.C. - -[Illustration: W H (Publisher’s logo)] - - -MR HEINEMANN will always be pleased to send periodically particulars -of his forthcoming publications to any reader who desires them. In -applying please state whether you are interested in works of Fiction, -Memoirs, History, Art, Science, etc. - - - THE DARK FLOWER - by JOHN GALSWORTHY - - “Human emotion at the intensity that is begotten of - conflict insoluble, and not merely of satiable and sated - aspiration, is, at least, the novelist’s pre-occupation - in this volume. And, like the old tragedians, he stands - apart from his grim rendering of life, drawing no moral - save that of pity and terror.... One need scarcely say - that with this novel Mr. Galsworthy has added another to - his series of powerful, vivid, and sincere studies of - human nature. His characters stand out with the firmness - of life.” - --_Daily Telegraph._ - - Author of - - MAN OF PROPERTY - THE ISLAND PHARISEES - THE PATRICIAN - A MOTLEY - COUNTRY HOUSE - FRATERNITY - THE INN OF TRANQUILITY - MOODS, SONGS & DOGGERELS - - - MARRYING OF HESTER RAINSBROOK - by J. A. REVERMORT - - “This novel is permeated not only by real culture, but - by genuine insight into character, and the romance of - ‘Hester Rainsbrook’ with the man whose dark background - she redeems is well worth reading. The minor characters, - too, stand out in excellent perspective.” - --_T.P.’s Weekly._ - - - THE PERFECT WIFE - by JOSEPH KEATING - - “It is all written in the gayest, happiest spirit - of light comedy ... the whole thing is cleverly and - entertainingly done ... the story holds you interested - and amused throughout.” - --_The Bookman._ - - “It is a pure comedy ... it makes excellent and - exciting and humorous reading. There is plenty of good - character-drawing to boot, and the writing is simple and - effective and often witty.... Mr. Keating has written a - very entertaining story, and we are grateful to him.” - --_Daily Chronicle._ - - - THE MILKY WAY - by F. TENNYSON JESSE - - “A light-hearted medley, the spirit and picturesqueness - of which the author cleverly keeps alive to the last - act.” - --_Times Literary Supplement._ - - “A book of youth and high spirits! That is the - definition of this altogether delightful ‘Milky Way’ ... - this wholly enchanting ‘Viv,’ her entourage ... as gay - and irresponsible as herself.... Miss Tennyson Jesse has - great gifts; skill and insight, candour, enthusiasm, and - a pleasant way of taking her readers into her confidence - ... the final impression is that she enjoyed writing her - book just as much as this reviewer has enjoyed reading - it.” - --_Daily Mail._ - - - INDISCRETIONS OF DR. CARSTAIRS - by A. de O. - - “The art of the short story is a rare one, and A. de - O. not only possesses it in a general way, but adds to - it what seems to be the skill of a specialist in the - treatment of the professional motive inspiring all his - tales ... he is undeniably entertaining.” - --_Observer._ - - - DIANA AND TWO SYMPHONIES - by FRANCIS TOYE - - “There is much in this novel that goes crash - through sentimentalism, and there is some excellent - characterisation ... the whole breathes such a clear - desentimentalised air that it is invigorating.” - --_Daily News and Leader._ - - “The hose of common sense is turned on the persisting - remnants of the romance of Bohemianism.... The book - gives us the contrast between the trivial round of - ‘respectable’ society and life among the intellectuals.” - --_Morning Post._ - - - GOSLINGS - by J. D. BERESFORD - 6/- - Author of “Joseph Stahl,” “A Candidate for Truth.” - - “Many of the scenes of his book will live long in the - imagination. The book is packed with such striking - episodes, which purge the intellect, if not always the - soul, with pity and terror and wonder. Mr. Beresford - has, in fact, proved once again that, even if he may - appear somewhat unsympathetic on the emotional side, he - has an intellectual grasp as strong and as sure as that - of any living novelist.” - --_Morning Post._ - - “It is a wild and airy fantasy, and it embodies some - uncommonly grim home truths. A book of whose success it - is hardly possible to feel uncertain, unless the public - have lost all palate for a tale that can make them - thrill and make them think.” - --_Observer._ - - - GROWING PAINS - by IVY LOW - (2nd Impression) - 6/- - - “It is a clever study of a modern young woman that Miss - Ivy Low has written, clever in its frank presentation - of the thoughts and actions of a somewhat over - self-conscious girl who wishes to find her place in the - world and fumbles and blunders in the seeking.” - --_Daily Telegraph._ - - - THE AMBASSADRESS - by WILLIAM WRIOTHESLEY - 6/- - - “‘The Ambassadress,’ among many good and brilliant - points, has the supreme merit of knowing what it talks - about. It is the ‘_vie intime_’ itself of a brilliant - côterie. The play and interplay of the different - nationalities, the way in which their German background - affects them all, the little incidental scandals and - piquancies, the thumb-nail portraits of pretty, restless - women and blasé cynical men, with the sprinkling of - the strong and the sincere which is the salt of all - such brews; the beautiful natures of Alexa and of her - wonderful stepmother; the impression of the Wagner - opera, and the sudden plunge into the depths below the - music, which show that Mr. Wriothesley has some of the - gift of vision as well as observation; all these things - make the book a vivid and uncommon one that can hardly - fail to claim attention.” - --_Evening Standard._ - - - THE SIXTY-FIRST SECOND - by OWEN JOHNSON - 6/- - - “What an excellent title, and what an excellent story is - so named!” - --_Evening News._ - - “The plot of the novel is ingenious, and the love - affair--though really a side issue--is conducted on - lines that are refreshingly original.” - --_Yorkshire Post._ - - - THE KINGDOM - by HAROLD GOAD - 6/- - - “Its style and its fine handling will commend it to - the judicious, especially as, despite the knowledge it - displays of the monastic life of to-day and its insight - into the mystical temper, it reveals no bias other than - the artist’s sympathy with the struggles of a human - soul.” - --_The Times._ - - “The book is excellently written and is a clever study - of a man’s spiritual life.” - --_Daily Graphic._ - - - JAMES HURD - by R. O. PROWSE - 6/- - - “Thoughtful, able and interesting novel. The story - cannot but enhance its author’s reputation.” - --_Scotsman._ - - - GUTTER BABIES - by DOROTHEA SLADE - 6/- - - “She has brought from the heart of the slums some of - the most delicately pathetic and most quaintly humorous - stories that have ever been published. The gutter babies - really live and play and work and die in her delightful - realistic book, and one feels at the end as closely akin - to those small, wild people of the back streets and - alleys, as if one had stolen a little of Miss Slade’s - deep understanding and tender sympathy. - - “An altogether pleasing and attractive book.” - --_Bookman._ - - - A BAND OF BROTHERS - by CHARLES TURLEY - - “The plot of ‘A Band of Brothers’ is not only excellent, - but quite original.... Mr. Turley’s book, though as - a story it will give abundant pleasure to juniors, - will appeal with even greater effect to parents and - guardians.” - --_Spectator._ - - “Mr. Turley has a greater gift for interpreting the mind - of the school boy and for envisaging his conditions, - than any living writer. We are inclined, after reading - ‘A Band of Brothers,’ to say that he is our greatest - writer of school stories, not excluding Thomas Hughes.” - --_Pall Mall Gazette._ - - - LU OF THE RANGES - by ELEANOR MORDAUNT - 6/- - Author of “The Cost of It.” - - “Miss Eleanor Mordaunt has the art, not only of - visualizing scenes with such imminent force that the - reader feels the shock of reality, but of sensating the - emotions she describes. A finely written book, full of - strong situations.” - --_Everyman._ - - - VIRGINIA - by ELLEN GLASGOW - (2nd Impression) - 6/- - Author of “Phases of an Inferior Planet.” - - “From beginning to end the book is alive with absorbing - interest, and all the characters are convincing in their - realism. A sure touch is manifested throughout. It is - a striking work in style, in thought, in sympathy and - understanding. We expect something distinctive from this - author and her latest book splendidly fulfils our hopes.” - --_Daily Herald._ - - - THE WOMAN THOU - GAVEST ME - by HALL CAINE - 6/- - - “The filling in of the story is marked by all Mr. Hall - Caine’s accustomed skill. There is a wealth of varied - characterisation, even the people who make but brief and - occasional appearances standing out as real individuals, - and not as mere names.... In description, too, the - novelist shows that his hand has lost nothing of its - cunning.... Deeply interesting as a story--perhaps - one of the best stories that Mr. Hall Caine has - given us--the book will make a further appeal to all - thoughtful readers for its frank and fearless discussion - of some of the problems and aspects of modern social and - religious life.” - --_Daily Telegraph._ - - “Hall Caine’s voice reaches far; in this way ‘The Woman - Thou Gavest Me’ strikes a great blow for righteousness. - There is probably no other European novelist who could - have made so poignant a tale of such simple materials. - In that light Mr. Hall Caine’s new novel is his greatest - achievement.” - --_Daily Chronicle._ - - -Other NOVELS of HALL CAINE - -(of which over 3 million copies have been sold). - - “These volumes are in every way a pleasure to read. Of - living authors, Mr. Hall Caine must certainly sway as - multitudinous a following as any living man. A novel - from his pen has become indeed for England and America - something of an international event.” - --_Times._ - -Author of - - THE BONDMAN 6/-, 2/-, 7d. net. - CAPT’N DAVEYS HONEYMOON 2/- - MY STORY 6/-, 2/- net. - THE WHITE PROPHET 6/- - THE ETERNAL CITY 6/-, 2/- - THE MANXMAN 6/-, 2/- - THE PRODIGAL SON 6/- - THE SCAPEGOAT 6/-, 7d. net. - THE CHRISTIAN 6/-, 2/- - - - THE GARDEN WITHOUT - WALLS - by CONINGSBY DAWSON - - “ ... work of such genuine ability that its perusal is - a delight and its recommendation to others a duty.... - It is a strong book, strong in every way, and it is - conceived and executed on a large scale. But long as it - is, there is nothing superfluous in it; its march is as - orderly and stately as the pageant of life itself ... - and it is a book, too, that grows on you as you read - it ... and compels admiration of the talent and skill - that have gone to its writing and the observation and - reflection that have evolved its philosophy of life.” - --_Glasgow Herald._ - - - THE REWARD OF VIRTUE - by AMBER REEVES - 6/- - - “There is cleverness enough and to spare, but it is - ... a spontaneous cleverness, innate, not laboriously - acquired.... The dialogue ... is so natural, so - unaffected, that it is quite possible to read it without - noticing the high artistic quality of it.... For a first - novel Miss Reeves’s is a remarkable achievement; it - would be a distinct achievement even were it not a first - novel.” - --_Daily Chronicle._ - - - YONDER - by E. H. YOUNG - Author of “A Corn of Wheat.” - - “The beauty of life shines through it all. The book is - more than a conventional love story. Nothing could be - more beautiful than the affection between Theresa and - her Father, and it is a touch for which alone the story - is worth reading. The Book is written throughout with - sympathy and dignity, and in places sounds a note of - poetry.” - --_Daily Mail._ - - - THE TRUTH ABOUT CAMILLA - by GERTRUDE HALL - - “I have not for a long time past come across a more - vivid personality in fiction.” - --_Punch._ - - “Camilla never fails the reader, and we are sure very - few readers will fail to give her enough admiration and - affection to satisfy her passionate amour propre. For - ourselves, we think her as delightful as she is amazing. - If this be a first adventure in fiction it is certainly - an extraordinarily good one, and the author is to be - congratulated on what, with little exaggeration, may be - described as a ‘tour de force.’” - --_Pall Mall Gazette._ - - - THE MERRY MARAUDERS - by ARTHUR J. REES - - “‘The Merry Marauders’ in no way belies its title. In a - gay, light-hearted fashion, whose fun is infectious, it - tells of the vicissitudes of a humble dramatic company - in their efforts to amuse New Zealand.... A book in - which there is a laugh on every page is a rare thing - now-a-days. And ‘The Merry Marauders’ have left us their - debtor.” - --_Outlook._ - - - LESS THAN THE DUST - by MARY AGNES HAMILTON - 6/- - - “There is something delightfully fresh in the method of - treatment, something that seems to mark the passing of - another milestone in the work of the literary woman. - Literary is the right word, for Miss Hamilton’s style - bears the stamp of a natural purity of diction, while - her analysis of emotion and character is keen without - being over-protracted.” - --_Daily Telegraph._ - - - SET TO PARTNERS - by Mrs. HENRY DUDENEY - 6/- - - Author of “A Runaway Ring,” “The Orchard Thief,” “A Large - Room,” etc. - - “If we were asked to say what is in ‘Set to Partners’ - that we find so arresting, we should be likely to place - the impression of reality which it conveys above its - grim choice of situation, or even above Mrs. Henry - Dudeney’s gift of delineating character, which is out - of the common and yet never vague ... a piece out of - life ... none will deny the splendid vitality of the - work, which is by far the best that Mrs. Dudeney has yet - done.” - --_Daily Graphic._ - - - THE HIPPODROME - by RACHEL HAYWARD - 6/- - Illustrated by CLARA WATERS. - - A brightly coloured story, the scene of which is laid - in Barcelona. A young Irish girl who is dependent on - herself for a means of subsistence becomes a “star” turn - at a circus. While in the back-waters of that existence - she falls in with certain gentlemen of international - importance. She becomes their dupe and slave and passes - through many adventures. But there is a way of escape - and she takes it. Decidedly a book of swift movement and - keen excitement. - - - LIBBY ANN - by SADIE CASEY - - “A delightful story of Irish village life, written with - intimate knowledge, and a very vivid pen, resulting in - a charming mosaic of small happenings, none of them - made magically interesting by the craft of the author. - If this is a first book, as it appears to be, it is a - grateful duty to welcome the writer to the realms of - fiction, and to hope that she will add many more such - works to her record.... This is an entirely charming - book, full of humour, and affording a particularly - interesting picture of life in rural Ireland.” - --_Daily Graphic._ - - - KING ERRANT - by FLORA ANNIE STEEL - (2nd Impression) - 6/- - Author of “On the Face of the Waters,” etc. - - “Mrs. Steel has made for herself a high reputation by - the excellence of her Indian novels; in the vividness of - the Oriental picture which it presents her ‘King Errant’ - stands on quite as high a level as her other books. - - “Historically accurate and sufficiently absorbing, - and the results of Mrs. Steel’s careful study of his - character is that Baber stands out from the mists of - nearly four centuries as a very real and attractive - person.” - --_Times._ - - Author of - - A PRINCE OF DREAMERS - THE FLOWER OF FORGIVENESS - FROM THE FIVE RIVERS - THE HOSTS OF THE LORD - IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD - IN THE PERMANENT WAY - MISS STUART’S LEGACY - ON THE FACE OF THE WATERS - THE POTTER’S THUMB - RED ROWANS - A SOVEREIGN REMEDY - VOICES IN THE NIGHT - and other stories. - - - O PIONEERS - by WILLA S. CATHER - - “An admirably written tale of life in Nebraska.... The - pioneer spirit has been seized and rendered without - gesticulation, and the heroine is an altogether charming - and natural figure.” - --_T. P’s Weekly._ - - “Vivid pictures of the old country life of those early - pioneering years are provided, and the sunshine of - romance and the shadow of tragedy flit across the pages - and lift the story to fascinating heights at times.” - --_Scotsman._ - - - THE MOUNTAIN APART - by JAMES PROSPER - - “This is not merely a ‘clever’ novel, but a book of - marked originality, in which are neither villains - nor saints, but real people whom we come to know - intimately.... It is a book that should be read - carefully, and we wish its author the large public that - such work deserves.” - --_Academy._ - - - THE LIFE MASK - 6/- - by the Author of “He Who Passed.” - - “A highly remarkable novel, with a plot both striking - and original, and written in a style quite distinctive - and charming.” - - “Seldom, if ever, has a tale given me so genuine a - surprise or such an unexpectedly creepy sensation.” - --_Punch._ - - - HE WHO PASSED - To M. L. G. - 6/- - - “As a story, it is one of the most enthralling I - have read for a long time.... Six--seven o’clock - struck--half-past-seven--and yet this extraordinary - narrative of a woman’s life held me absolutely - enthralled.... I forgot the weather; I forgot my own - grievances; I forgot everything, in fact, under the - spell of this wonderful book.... In fact the whole book - bears the stamp of reality from cover to cover. There - is hardly a false or strained note in it. It is the - ruthless study of a woman’s life.... If it is not the - novel of the season, the season is not likely to give us - anything much better.”--_The Tatler._ - - - JOHN CHRISTOPHER: - - I. Dawn and Morning. - II. Storm and Stress. - III. John Christopher in Paris - IV. The Journey’s End - - by ROMAIN ROLLAND - each 6/- - - Translated by GILBERT CANNAN. Author of “Little Brother,” etc. - - “To most readers he will be a revelation, a new interest - in their lives. Take the book up where you will, and you - feel interested at once. You can read it and re-read it. - It never wearies nor grows irritating.” - --_The Daily Telegraph._ - - “His English exercises so easy an effect that the - reader has never for an instant the irritating sense of - missing beauties through the inadequacies of a borrowed - language; we have also compared it in many cases with - the original and found it remarkably accurate. Readers - may then be assured that they will lose but little of - Mr. Rolland’s beauty and wisdom, even though they are - unable to read him in the original, and Mr. Cannan is to - be warmly congratulated.” - --_The Standard._ - - “A noble piece of work, which must, without any doubt - whatever, ultimately receive the praise and attention - which it so undoubtedly merits.... There is hardly a - single book more illustrative, more informing and more - inspiring ... than M. Romain Rolland’s creative work, - ‘John Christopher’.” - --_The Daily Telegraph._ - - - =THE NOVELS OF DOSTOEVSKY= - - Translated by CONSTANCE GARNETT - - “By the genius of Dostoevsky you are always in the - presence of living, passionate characters. They are not - puppets, they are not acting to keep the plot in motion. - They are men and women--I should say you can hear - them breathe--irresistibly moving to their appointed - ends.”--_Evening News._ - - I. THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV - 3/6 net - - “No other writer perhaps has given to materials so ugly, - not merely strength and life, but grave pathos and - tragic beauty.” - --_Times._ - - II. THE IDIOT - 3/6 net - - “In many of his novels, Dostoevsky has contrasted - spiritual love and physical passion, but in no other has - the terror of the conflict culminated in such tragic - loneliness as in the final scene of ‘The Idiot.’” - --_Daily Chronicle._ - - THE POSSESSED - - - =THE NOVELS OF LEO TOLSTOY= - - Translated by CONSTANCE GARNETT - - ANNA KARENIN - 2/6 net - WAR AND PEACE - 3/6 net - - “Mrs. Garnett’s translations from the Russian are always - distinguished by most careful accuracy and a fine - literary flavour.” - --_The Bookman._ - - “Mrs. Garnett’s translation has all the ease and vigour - which Matthew Arnold found in French versions of - Russian novels and missed in English. She is indeed so - successful that, but for the names, one might easily - forget he was reading a foreign author.” - --_The Contemporary Review._ - - - THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT - by RICHARD DEHAN - (2nd Impression) - 6/- - - “There is real truth and pathos in the ‘Fourth Volume,’ - originality in ‘The Tribute of Offa,’ and pith in nearly - all of them.” - --_Times._ - - “There is not one of the tales which will fail to - excite, amuse, entertain, or in some way delight the - reader.” - --_Liverpool Daily Post._ - - BY THE SAME AUTHOR - - BETWEEN TWO THIEVES - (2nd Impression) - 6/- - - “The book is really an amazing piece of work. Its - abounding energy, its grip on our attention, its biting - humour, its strong, if sometimes lurid word painting - have an effect of richness and fullness of teeming life, - that sweeps one with it. What an ample chance for praise - and whole-hearted enjoyment. The thing unrols with a - vividness that never fails.”--_Daily News and Leader._ - - - THE DOP DOCTOR - (_Now in its 16th Edition_). - 2/- net - - “Pulsatingly real--gloomy, tragic, humorous, dignified, - real. The cruelty of battle, the depth of disgusting - villainy, the struggles of great souls, the irony of - coincidence are all in its pages.... Who touches this - book touches a man. I am grateful for the wonderful - thrills ‘The Dop Doctor’ has given me. It is a novel - among a thousand.” - --_The Daily Express._ - - - A LIKELY STORY - by WILLIAM DE MORGAN - 6/- - - “How delightful it all is.... Mr. De Morgan is worth - having for himself alone and for the point of view of - the world that he shows us.” - --_Standard._ - - “The book is great fun.... Much amusement, much cause - for sly chuckling throughout the book.... I have enjoyed - every line of it.” - --_T. P.’s Weekly._ - - “You cannot resist the charm of the narrator, who makes - you feel as if you were listening to an improvisation.” - --_The Spectator._ - - Author of - - JOSEPH VANCE - ALICE FOR SHORT - AN AFFAIR OF DISHONOUR - IT NEVER CAN HAPPEN AGAIN - SOMEHOW GOOD - - - THE WEAKER VESSEL - by E. F. BENSON - 6/- - - “Among the writers of the present day who can make - fiction the reflection of reality, one of the foremost - is Mr. E. F. Benson. From the very beginning the - interest is enchained.” - --_Daily Telegraph._ - - Author of - - JUGGERNAUT - *ACCOUNT RENDERED - AN ACT IN A BACKWATER - *THE ANGEL OF PAIN - *THE BOOK OF MONTHS - *THE CHALLONERS - *THE CLIMBER - THE HOUSE OF DEFENCE - *THE IMAGE IN THE SAND - *THE LUCK OF THE VAILS - *MAMMON & CO. - *PAUL - THE PRINCESS SOPHIA - *A REAPING - THE RELENTLESS CITY - *SCARLET AND HYSSOP - *SHEAVES - - Each Crn. 8vo. Price 6/-. - - Those volumes marked * can also be obtained in the Two Shilling - net Edition, and also the following volumes - - THE OSBORNES - THE VINTAGE - DODO - - ⁂ “The Book of Months” and “A Reaping” form one volume - in this Edition. - - -21 BEDFORD STREET, LONDON, W.C. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Prisons & Prisoners, by Constance Lytton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONS & PRISONERS *** - -***** This file should be named 52944-0.txt or 52944-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/4/52944/ - -Produced by MWS, Fay Dunn and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/52944-0.zip b/old/52944-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e23c2b6..0000000 --- a/old/52944-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52944-h.zip b/old/52944-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1d68086..0000000 --- a/old/52944-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52944-h/52944-h.htm b/old/52944-h/52944-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 906095e..0000000 --- a/old/52944-h/52944-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13678 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Prisons and Prisoners, by Constance Lytton. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -/* headings and paragraph*/ - -h1,h2,h3 { - text-align: center; /* all headings center aligned */ - line-height: 1.5em; - font-weight: normal; - clear: both; -} - -h2.front { - font-size: 1.3em; - padding-bottom: 0em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: left; -} - -h3 { - padding-top: 0.1em; - margin-bottom: 0em; -} - -.faux { - font-size: 0.5em; - visibility: hidden; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; - text-indent: 1em; -} - -p.noindent{ - text-indent: 0em; -} - -p.medallion { - text-indent: -1em; - margin-left: 1em; -} - -p.report { - padding-left: 3.5em; - text-indent: -1em; - margin-left: 1em; -} - -/* horizontal rules */ - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap { - width: 65%; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; -} - -hr.full { - width: 85%; - margin-left: 7.5%; - margin-right: 7.5%; -} - -/* tables */ -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - width: 95%; -} - -table.illustrations { - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - width: 100%; -} - -th { - font-weight: normal; - font-size: 0.9em; -} - -.tdr { - text-align: right; - min-width: 0.5em; - padding-right: 0.7em; - vertical-align: top; -} - -td.dot { - text-align: center; - min-width: 2em; - vertical-align: top; -} - -/* blockquotes */ - -blockquote { - margin-left: 0em; - margin-right: 0em; - margin-top: 1.5em; - margin-bottom: 1.5em; -} - -/* page numbers */ - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - background-color: #E6E6FA; - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: 0.81em; - text-align: right; - margin-left: 0em; - text-indent: 0em; - font-style: normal; -} /* page numbers */ - -/* alignment, variants */ -.center { - text-align: center; -} - -.smcap { - font-variant: small-caps; -} - -.smaller { - font-size: 0.9em; -} - -/* letters */ -p.signed { - text-align: right; - text-indent: 0em; - width: 95%; -} -p.big_sig { - text-align: right; - text-indent: 0em; - width: 95%; - font-size: 1.0em; -} - -p.address_date { - padding-top: 1.0em; - text-align: right; - text-indent: 0em; - width: 95%; -} - -p.right_sig { - text-align: right; - text-indent: 0em; - width: 100%; -} - -p.sig_list { - margin-left: 1em; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.in_a_bit2 { - padding-right: 1.5em; -} - -.in_a_bit4 { - padding-right: 3.5em; -} - -.in_a_bit6 { - padding-right: 5.6em; -} - -.in_a_bit7 { - padding-right: 7.5em; -} - -.in_a_bit8 { - padding-right: 11.5em; -} - -.out_a_bit2 { - padding-left: 1.7em; -} - -.out_a_bit3 { - padding-left: 2.7em; -} - -.out_a_bit4 { - padding-left: 3.4em; -} - -.out_a_bit6 { - padding-left: 5.2em; -} - -/* Front and end matter */ -p.main_title { - font-size: 1.6em; - text-indent: 0em; - padding-top: 0.5em; - padding-bottom: 0.3em; - margin-left: 14%; -} - -div.box_advert { - padding: 0.8em 0.8em 0.8em 0.8em; - border: solid; - width: 13em; - margin-bottom: 3.5em; - margin-left: 14%; -} - -p.ad_title { - font-size: 2em; - text-indent: 0em; - letter-spacing: 0.1em; - margin-top: 0em; - margin-bottom: 0em; -} - -.ad_standard { - font-size: 1em; -} - -p.ad_standard { - text-indent: 0em; -} - -p.ad_minutiae { - font-size: 0.8em; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.title1 { - font-size: 2.0em; - text-indent: 0em; - text-align: center; -} - -.title2 { - font-size: 1.4em; - text-indent: 0em; - text-align: center; -} - -.title3 { - font-size: 1.0em; - text-indent: 0em; - text-align: center; -} - -.title4 { - font-size: 0.95em; - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.title5 { - font-size: 0.8em; - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -p.printed_by { - font-size: 0.75em; - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -p.space_above { - padding-top: 3.5em; -} - -p.space_below { - padding-bottom: 3.5em; -} - -p.small_space_below { - padding-bottom: 2em; -} - -.sp2 { - letter-spacing: 0.45em; -} -.sp4 { - letter-spacing: 0.62em; -} -.sp5 { - letter-spacing: 1.1em; -} -.sp7 { - letter-spacing: 1.25em; -} - -/* Chapter heading and section */ -.sub_head { - font-size: 0.85em; -} - -/* Poetry */ - -.poetry-container { - text-align: center; - font-size: 0.9em; -} - -.poetry { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; -} - -@media handheld { - .poetry - { - display: block; - margin-left: 1.5em; - } -} - -.poetry .stanza { - margin: 1em auto; -} - -.poetry .p_line_i0 { - text-indent: -3em; - padding-left: 3em; -} - -.poetry .quote_first { - text-indent: -3.33em; -} - -.poetry .p_line_i2 { - text-indent: -3em; - padding-left: 4em; -} - -.transnote { - background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; -} - -.transnote h2 { - text-align: left; -} - -.nopagebreak { - page-break-before: avoid; -} - -/* Footnotes */ - -div.footnotes { - border: dashed 1px; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; -} - -.footnotes h3 { - text-align: left; - font-variant: small-caps; -} - -.footnotes ul { - font-size: 0.9em; - margin-left: 2em; - margin-bottom: .2em; - margin-right: 2em; - padding-left: 0em; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.footnotes p { - text-indent: 1em; -} - -.footnotes li { - margin-bottom: 1em; - list-style-type: none; -} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: none; - font-family: initial; -} - -.fnlabel { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: none; - font-family: initial; - margin-right: 0.4em; -} - -/*abbrevations, cite */ - -abbr { - text-decoration: none; - border-bottom: none; -} - -.plain { - font-style: normal; -} - -/* Images */ - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - padding-top: 1em; - padding-bottom: 1em; - text-align: center; -} - -p.caption{ - text-indent: 0em; - text-align: center; -} - -/* Book list */ - -h3.ad_title, h4 { - font-size: 1.5em; - text-indent: 0em; - padding-top: 1em; - margin-top: 0em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - text-align: left; - line-height: 1.1em; -} - -h4 { - font-weight: normal; - font-size: 1.5em; -} - -h3.ad_title_big { - font-size: 1.3em; - text-indent: 0em; - padding-top: 1em; - margin-top: 0em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - text-align: center; - font-weight: bold; - font-style: italic; - text-decoration: underline; -} - -.ad_by { - font-size: 1.2em; - text-indent: 0em; - margin-top: 0em; - margin-bottom: 0em; -} - -.ad_list { - font-size: 1.2em; - text-indent: 0em; - margin-top: 0.3em; - margin-bottom: 0.3em; -} - -.ad_ref { - text-align: right; - margin-top: -0.5em; -} - -p.ad { - margin-left: 0.5em; - margin-right: 0.4em; - text-indent: 0em; - padding-top: 0.5em; - clear: both; -} - -p.cont { - text-indent: 0.6em; -} - -.prices { - width: 21em; -} - -.price { - font-size: 1.5em; - float: right; - margin-top: -0.3em; -} - -.h4_price { - font-size: 1.2em; - margin-top: 0em; -} - -.price_rd { - font-size: 2em; -} - -p.same { - padding-top: 1.2em; - margin-bottom: -0.5em; -} - -.small { - font-size: 1em; -} - -@media handheld { - .price { - float: right; - } -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Prisons & Prisoners, by Constance Lytton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Prisons & Prisoners - Some Personal Experiences - -Author: Constance Lytton - -Release Date: August 31, 2016 [EBook #52944] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONS & PRISONERS *** - - - - -Produced by MWS, Fay Dunn and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<h1 class="faux">PRISONS AND PRISONERS</h1> - -<div class="transnote"> - <h2 class="nopagebreak" title="">Transcriber’s Note</h2> - -<p>Footnotes have been moved to the end of paragraphs.</p> - -<p>The photograph of Jane Warton has been moved, the page number in the -list of illustrations refers to its original position in the book.</p> - -<p>Variant spelling, misspelt names and inconsistent hyphenation are -retained, a few palpable printing errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>The ⁂ character was originally printed as an inverted asterism.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter" id="medallion"> - <img src="images/medallion.jpg" alt="Medallion" width="240" height="240" title="Medallion on Cover by Miss Sylvia Pankhurst" /> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="main_title space_above space_below">PRISONS<br />AND PRISONERS</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter box_advert"> - -<p class="ad_title">MY FATHER</p> -<p class="smcap ad_standard">Personal and Spiritual<br />Reminiscences</p> -<p class="ad_standard small_space_below">By ESTELLE W. STEAD</p> -<p class="ad_minutiae small_space_below">Demy <abbr title="octavo">8vo.</abbr> Price 10<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr> net</p> -<p class="ad_standard"><span class="smcap">London William Heinemann</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter figcenter" id="constance"> - <img src="images/constance_lytton.jpg" alt="Constance Lytton" width="372" height="600" /> - <p class="caption"><i>Holman & Paget, photographers</i><br /><i>Emery Walker <abbr title="Photosculpsit">Ph. Sc.</abbr></i></p> - <p class="caption">Constance Lytton</p> - <hr class="chap" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="title1">PRISONS & PRISONERS</p> -<p class="title2">SOME PERSONAL EXPERIENCES<br /> -By<span class="sp4"> </span>CONSTANCE<span class="sp2"> </span>LYTTON<span class="sp4"> </span><span class="smcap">and</span><br /> -JANE<span class="sp2"> </span>WARTON,<span class="sp5"> </span><span class="smcap">Spinster</span><span class="sp7"> </span><img src="images/acorn.jpg" alt="decoration" width="33" height="20" title="decoration" /></p> - -<p class="title3 space_above space_below">WITH PORTRAITS</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/title_logo.jpg" alt="W H" width="104" height="100" title="W H (Publisher’s logo)" /> -</div> - -<p class="title2 center">LONDON WILLIAM HEINEMANN</p> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><i>Copyright</i>, 1914.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="front">CONTENTS</h2> - -<table class="toc" summary="Contents"> - -<tr><th><abbr title="CHAPTER">CHAP.</abbr></th><th> </th><th>PAGE</th></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td colspan="2" class="smcap"><a href="#dedication" title="">Dedication.</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="1">I.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#I" title="">Introduction</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1" title="Page 1">1</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="2">II.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#II" title="">My Conversion</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9" title="Page 9">9</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="3">III.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#III" title="">A Deputation to the Prime Minister</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31" title="Page 31">31</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="4">IV.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#IV" title="">Police Court Trial</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_54" title="Page 54">54</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="5">V.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#V" title="">Holloway Prison: My First Imprisonment</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_68" title="Page 68">68</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="6">VI.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#VI" title="">The Hospital</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_92" title="Page 92">92</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="7">VII.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#VII" title="">Some Types of Prisoners</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_114" title="Page 114">114</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="8">VIII.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#VIII" title="">“A Track to the Water’s Edge”</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_138" title="Page 138">138</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="9">IX.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#IX" title="">From the Cells</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_173" title="Page 173">173</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="10">X.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#X" title="">Newcastle: Police Station Cell</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_201" title="Page 201">201</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="11">XI.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#XI" title="">Newcastle Prison: My Second Imprisonment</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_222" title="Page 222">222</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="12">XII.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#XII" title="">Jane Warton</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_234" title="Page 234">234</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="13">XIII.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#XIII" title="">Walton Gaol, Liverpool: My Third Imprisonment</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_259" title="Page 259">259</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="14">XIV.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#XIV" title="">The Home Office</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_296" title="Page 296">296</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="15">XV.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#XV" title="">The Conciliation Bill</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_311" title="Page 311">311</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"><abbr title="16">XVI.</abbr></td><td class="smcap"><a href="#XVI" title="">Holloway Prison Revisited: My Fourth Imprisonment</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_320" title="Page 320">320</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="front" title="">PUBLISHER’S NOTE</h2> - -<p><i>The Publisher hopes that fault will not be -found if he disclaims agreement with some of -Lady Constance Lytton’s views expressed in -this volume, notwithstanding the fact that he -is glad to offer it to the public. He feels that -personal disagreement over details should not -hinder him from publishing this splendid story -of heroism and unselfishness.</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="front" id="dedication" title="DEDICATION">DEDICATION<br /> -TO PRISONERS</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span>, for a short while, I shared your lot, I asked -myself through all my waking hours if there were -any friendly thought which could act beneficently -for all prisoners, no matter how various the training -of their previous lives, no matter whether distress -of circumstance, drunkenness, selfish action, cruelty, -or madness had been the cause which brought them -into prison.</p> - -<p>And there seemed this one thing. It is a single -idea, but needs many words to give it shape.</p> - -<p>Lay hold of your inward self and keep tight hold. -Reverence yourself. Be just, kind and forgiving to -yourself. For the inner you of yourself is surely -the only means of communication for you with any -good influence you may once have enjoyed or hope -some day to find, the only window through which -you can look upon a happier and more lovable life, -the only door through which some day you will be -able to escape, unbarring it to your own release -from all that is helpless, selfish, and unkind in your -present self.</p> - -<p>Public opinion, which sent you to prison, and your -gaolers, who have to keep you there, are mostly concerned -with your failings. Every hour of prison -existence will remind you of these afresh. Unless -you are able to keep alight within yourself the -remembrance of acts and thoughts which were good,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span> -a belief in your own power to exist freely when you -are once more out of prison, how can any other -human being help you? If not the inward power, -how can any external power avail?</p> - -<p>But if you have this comforter within you, hourly -keeping up communication with all that you have -known and loved of good in your life, with all the -possibilities for good that you know of—in your -hands, your mind, your heart—then when you are -released from prison, however lonely you may be, -or poor, or despised by your neighbours, you will -have a friend who can really help you.</p> - -<p>There will be people who visit you in prison, -and who watch over you at first when you come -out. They will try to help you, but unless they -truly understand your lot, understanding your goodness -as well as your badness, and sympathising with -your badness as well as with your goodness, they -will seem far off from you. Who knows, though, -but what you may help them? In my ignorance -and impudence I went into prison hoping to help -prisoners. So far as I know, I was unable to do -anything for them. But the prisoners helped me. -They seemed at times the direct channels between -me and God Himself, imbued with the most friendly -and powerful goodness that I have ever met.</p> - -<p>Prisoners, I wish I could give to you, for your -joy, something of the help you gave to me, and that -in many ways I could follow your example.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="front"><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS">ILLUSTRATIONS</a></h2> -<table summary="Illustrations" class="illustrations"> -<tr><td class="smcap">Portrait of <a href="#constance" title="">Lady Constance Lytton</a></td><td class="dot">.</td><td><i>Frontispiece</i>.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="smcap">Portrait of <a href="#jane" title="">Jane Warton</a>, Spinster</td><td class="dot">.</td><td><i>to face <abbr title="pages">p.</abbr> 114</i>.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p class="medallion"><span class="smcap">The <a href="#medallion" title="">Medallion</a> on Cover by Miss Sylvia Pankhurst -with grateful thanks.</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></p> - -<h2 id="I" title="CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION">CHAPTER <abbr title="1">I</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">INTRODUCTION</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Some</span> of the experiences which I have to record -are of so unusual a character that I think it will help -to a better understanding on the part of my readers -if I briefly outline the drift of my existence before I -became aware of the women’s movement, and in -touch with that section of it known as the “Militant -Suffragettes.”</p> - -<p>My father had been dead fifteen years and I was -thirty-nine years old in 1906, when my narrative -begins. I lived with my mother in the country. Two -sisters and two brothers had left the home when they -were young—the sisters to marry, the brothers to -train for and enter their professions. I assumed, as -did all my friends and relations, that, being past the -age when marriage was likely, I should always -remain at home. In my early girlhood I had a -yearning to take up music professionally; again, -after father’s death, when unexpected financial misfortunes -caused my mother great anxiety, I had -longed to try my hand at journalism; and once -more, a few years later, I had the same ambition. -But these wishes, finding no favour, had in each case -eventually to be repressed, and in 1906 I had neither -equipment, training nor inclination for an independent -life.</p> - -<p>I had been more or less of a chronic invalid through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -the greater part of my youth. An overmastering -laziness and a fatalistic submission to events as they -befell were guiding factors in my existence. I was -passionately fond of animals and of children, music -was a great delight to me; otherwise I was not given -to intellectual pursuits. So far as I know, I was an -average ordinary human being, except perhaps for -an exaggerated dislike of society and of publicity in -any form. I had many intimate friends, both men -and women, and also children. Such mental training -as I have known was chiefly due to intercourse -with them. I owed to them, as well as to my -mother and many members of my family, a happy -life, in spite of considerable physical suffering.</p> - -<p>In 1896 and successive years I had given secretarial -help to my aunt, Mrs. C. W. Earle, in the -writing of her wonderfully delightful books, beginning -with “<cite class="plain">Pot Pourri from a Surrey Garden</cite>.” She -insisted that, in return for my small and mostly -mechanical services, we should share the profits of -the sale. The book ran into many editions, and she -held to her bargain, but I never felt as if I had a -right to the money. Her widely sympathetic and -stimulating companionship had a great influence on -my mind. Thanks to her investigations in theories -of diet, I became a strict vegetarian. My health -gained in all directions and I gradually freed myself -from the so-called “constitutional” rheumatism -from which I had suffered since my infancy. I -realised, too, that all these years I had caused untold -suffering that I might be fed, and determined that -in future the unnatural death of an animal should -not be necessary to make up my bill of fare. My<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -vitality increased, but the notion of a vocation apart -from my family and home remained as foreign to my -ideas as it was then to the average British spinster -of my class.</p> - -<p>In the year 1906 my godmother, Lady Bloomfield, -died. She had shown me much kindness and I had -never found an opportunity to serve her in any way, -the generosity had been all on her side; yet, at -her death, she left me some money, without any -conditions as to how I should spend it. It gave me -a strange new feeling of power and exhilaration. I -look back upon this event as being spiritually the -starting point in my new life, of which this book will -tell, although, from the practical point of view, it -seems only by a series of coincidences that my after -experiences were evolved from it.</p> - -<p>I looked about me with a view to spending the -money. I had a fancy to put it to some public use. -The commonly accepted channels of philanthropy -did not appeal to me. I shifted my inquiries in -other directions. I remember that at this time I -was chiefly occupied with the idea that reformers -were for the most part town dwellers, their philosophy -and schemes attuned to those surroundings. -There seemed to me need for a counteracting -influence to attempt reform and regeneration on -behalf of country dwellers. The noiseless revolution -which had been worked in a few decades by the -system of compulsory education seemed to me -tainted throughout by the ideals of townsfolk. The -influence of teachers and clergy, of public authorities -in general, sets before the nation’s children and their -parents ideals which mould them into townsfolk.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -Country craft and country lore grow less, and are less -honoured in every decade. There is no room for -them in the national curriculum. This tendency, -nevertheless, seems unnatural, imposed by a species -of force on a reluctant though inarticulate people. -Some temperaments cannot acclimatise themselves -to town dwelling. The life of cities will always -appear to them artificial, repellent from the physical -conditions it imposes and the mental outlook resulting -from these. Rain, earth and air are better -scavengers than any municipal corporation. The -ceaseless cleansing, yet never making clean, of town -existence has from my childhood fretted my imagination -and produced a sense of incarceration. In -towns, the earth is laid over with tombstones, -metalled roads or floors of wood. Avenues of bricks -and mortar shut out a great part of the sky, limiting -into a mere ceiling the heavens which should be our -surrounding. A town had always seemed to me a -“deterrent” workhouse at best, and often a punitive -prison besides.</p> - -<p>The monster of industrialism, which followed in -the wake of the discovery of steam and the dethroning -of handicraft by artificially-propelled machinery, -may one day be bridled and controlled so as to be a -servant of humanity, a fellow worker in the day-to-day -glory of creation; but for the present it is still -a wild beast, a dragon at large, dealing pestilence -and death with its fiery breath, combated in panic, -its evils evaded rather than faced, its power a nightmare -breeding fear and subjection. Instead of -harnessing this new force to every branch of our -existence, ordering it to serve us at our command,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -we have cringed before it, left our normal lives and -drained our energies to congregate in its grimy -temples and worship at its shrine. Poor, blind -force that it is, we are determined to make it an -idol, and for sake of the return in money which its -mechanical rotations produce, we have been willing -to sacrifice the interests both of the human beings -which should control it and of the soil, the land, -which alone can produce the raw material for its -task.</p> - -<p>How to transform this Moloch from a tyrannous -master to a helpful, submissive friend, that was the -problem which seemed to cry out for solution above -all others. I looked around to see how the needs -of country folk were able to express themselves, -and everywhere there was presented to my inquiries -a complicated machinery of administration both -national and local—voting rights for election of -parliamentary, municipal, county, district and -parish councils. But this machinery was apparently -born and bred of urban conditions, super-imposed -upon the rural districts, in no way native to them, -not of spontaneous growth. This succession of -councils, instituted with the apparent purpose of -watching one another, and, if necessary, bringing -pressure to bear upon one another, were for the -most part lifeless formalities, having no organic life, -no breath of reality to set them in motion. The only -function which gives them any tangible vitality is -their power of imposing taxation and levying rates. -You find in the country districts that members of -these different bodies are the same individuals. -The parish councillor who is expected to bring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -pressure to bear on the district councillor, who -again must appeal, if need be, to the county councillor, -is one and the same person who, as likely as -not, is also the representative of the district on the -board of guardians, and he is sure to be selected -again to work the administrative machinery of -every new device that comes along for the amelioration -of social evils. In other words, the elective -principle is a farce in rural districts. The electorate -are dead both to their powers and their duties. -They live, in fact, under a system which is anything -but representative. They live rather, under the -devitalised husk of the feudal system, the poorer -members of the community dependent, in the -worst sense, upon those who are their social -superiors, but no longer receiving from them any -security of well-being, and neither class extending -to the other, with rare exceptions, either the loyalty -or devotion which seem to have been bound up with -the feudal traditions of our forefathers. Was it -possible to wake up this inert mass, so that they -should co-operate with one another, and thus be -strong enough to grasp the present machinery of -national Government, and either utilise it or alter it -to one better suited to their needs?</p> - -<p>Each of my inquiries in turn led me back to the -individuals concerned, to the human beings themselves. -What were their homes, their ambitions, -thoughts, beliefs? What guidance do they give to -those who wish to serve them? I groped my way -blindly and acquired knowledge only in a negative -sense by a series of failures. I gleaned two general -precepts from my investigations. They were these:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -It is useless to try and help the lives of a community -without consulting the individuals whom -you hope to benefit, and that to benefit the life -conditions of men does not necessarily benefit the -life conditions of women, although their interests -may be apparently identical as to social grade, -locality, religious and other beliefs.</p> - -<p>After a series of barren experiments, I stumbled by -chance on a piece of social radium, a regenerative -agency that bore good fruit and that contained an -element of spontaneous joy most refreshing compared -to the oppressive straight-jackets of national or -private philanthropists. I heard of the revival of -folk songs and dances. I went to see and hear them. -The first performance opened the door for me into a -new paradise. The Esperance Club of working girls -had been the means of bringing to life researches of -antiquarian musical students. This club had evidently -been for many years an unusually successful -social enterprise, but the discovery of a lost treasure -in the shape of traditional songs and dances gave it a -new inspiration. Both words and tunes of the songs -have come, generation after generation, from the -heart of the English folk. Each generation, each -individual who has sung them, has added or omitted -some little touch, so that in these songs, which have -been mostly collected from old men and women over -eighty years of age, is expressed the very soul of -English national sentiment. The same with the -dances. They were traditional in families or localities, -they had been handed down from father to son, -and were as truly folk dances as the songs were folk -songs. Songs and dances alike are full of life on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -land and love of the land, of flowers, animals and -crops, of the daily lives of men, women and children. -Dramatic, tragic and comic incidents find spontaneous -expression, and every one of them tells of -a vigorous and mainly joyous existence. The girls -of this club learnt the Morris dance first from two -Oxfordshire countrymen. Both the dances and -songs were acquired easily “by a sort of spiritual -sixth sense,” as if the rhythm and meaning of them -were latent in their being and were easily re-awakened. -The girls not only learnt quickly, but -were inspired to teach others, young girls of seventeen -and eighteen showing an amazing facility and power -of organisation in this matter. One of these came, -at my eager request, to teach in our village, and, -after one week, men, women and children were alive -with these friendly, joy-giving, native arts. The -following year a girl teacher came to us again with -renewed success.</p> - -<p>In the autumn, 1908, I was invited by the secretary -of the club, Miss Mary Neal, herself a wonderful -organiser, to share a seaside holiday with her girls. -In those days I never left home save for family -reasons, or for some very exceptional matter. I, -therefore, refused the invitation. I happened to -mention the proposal the next day to my mother. -She said: “Why don’t you go?” I immediately -went, little realising that this visit would lead to a -most unexpected series of experiences.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="II" title="CHAPTER II. MY CONVERSION">CHAPTER <abbr title="2">II</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">MY CONVERSION</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was in August-September, 1908, at “The -Green Lady Hostel,” Littlehampton, the holiday -house of the Esperance Girls’ Club, that I met Mrs. -Pethick Lawrence and Miss Annie Kenney. I was -two or three days in the house with them without discovering -that they were Suffragettes or that there was -anything unusual about their lives. But I realised -at once that I was face to face with women of strong -personality, and I felt, though at first vaguely, -that they represented something more than themselves, -a force greater than their own seemed behind -them. Their remarkable individual powers seemed -illumined and enhanced by a light that was apart -from them as are the colours and patterns of a -stained-glass window by the sun shining through it. -I had never before come across this kind of spirituality. -I have since found it a characteristic of all -the leaders in the militant section of the woman’s -movement, and of many of the rank and file. I was -much attracted by Mrs. Lawrence, and became intimate -with her at once on the strength of our mutual -friendship for Olive Schreiner. We had, besides, -many other interests and sympathies in common. -The first Sunday that we were together, the girls of -the club were asked to come in early that evening, so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -that Jessie Kenney, Annie Kenney’s sister, who had -only recently been released from Holloway, might -tell them of her prison experiences. I then realised -that I was amongst Suffragettes. I immediately -confessed to them that although I shared their wish -for the enfranchisement of women, I did not at all -sympathise with the measures they adopted for -bringing about that reform. I had, however, -always been interested in prisons and recognised -from the first that, incidentally, the fact of many -educated women being sent to gaol for a question of -conscience must do a great deal for prison reform, -and I was delighted at this opportunity of hearing -first-hand something about the inner life of a prison. -I listened eagerly and was horrified at some of the -facts recorded. Amongst these I remember specially -that the tins in which the drinking water stood were -cleaned with soap and brick dust and not washed out, -the tins being filled only once or at most twice in -twenty-four hours; the want of air in the cells; the -conduct of prison officials towards the prisoners.</p> - -<p>Having betrayed my disapproval of the Suffragette -“tactics,” which seemed to me unjustified, -unreasonable, without a sense of political responsibility, -and as setting a bad example in connection -with a reform movement of such prominence, there -was naturally something of coolness and reserve in -my further intercourse with Mrs. Pethick Lawrence -and the Kenneys. But before their brief stay at the -club came to an end, I achieved a talk with each of -the leaders.</p> - -<p>One evening, after incessant rain, Annie Kenney -and I marched arm-in-arm round the garden,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -under dripping trees. I explained that though I -had always been for the extension of the suffrage -to women, it did not seem to me a question of prime -urgency, that many other matters of social reform -seemed more important, and I thought class prejudice -and barriers more injurious to national -welfare than sex barriers. I was deeply impressed -with her reply. She said, in a tone of utmost conviction: -“Well, I can only tell you that I, who am -a working-class woman, have never known class -distinction and class prejudice stand in the way of -my advancement, whereas the sex barrier meets me -at every turn.” Of course, she is a woman of -great character, courage and ability, which gives her -exceptional facilities for overcoming these drawbacks, -but her contention that such powers availed -her nothing in the face of sex prejudices and disabilities, -and the examples she gave me to bear out -her argument, began to lift the scales of ignorance -from my eyes. She was careful to point out that -the members of her own family had been remarkably -free from sex prejudice, and her illustrations had no -taint of personal resentment. She explained how -the lot of women being not understood of men, and -they being the only legislators, the woman’s part -had always got laid on one side, made of less importance, -sometimes forgotten altogether. She told -how amongst these offices of women was the -glorious act of motherhood and the tending of little -children. Was there anything in a man’s career -that could be so honourable as this? Yet how -often is the woman who bears humanity neglected -at such times, so that life goes from her, or she is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -given no money to support her child. I felt that -through Annie Kenney’s whole being throbbed the -passion of her soul for other women, to lift from -them the heavy burden, to give them life, strength, -freedom, joy, and the dignity of human beings, -that in all things they might be treated fairly with -men. I was struck by her expression and argument, -it was straightforward in its simplicity, yet -there was inspiration about her. All that she -said was obvious, but in it there was a call from -far off, something inevitable as the voice of fate. -She never sounded a note of sex-antipathy; it was -an unalloyed claim for justice and equity of development, -for women as for men.</p> - -<p>Then Mrs. Pethick Lawrence and I, during a -day’s motoring expedition, achieved a rare talk out. -She met all my arguments, all my prejudices and -false deductions with counter-arguments, and above -all with facts of which I had till then no conception. -I trusted her because of what I had learnt of her -personality, her character, mind, wide education -and experience, and was to a certain extent at once -impressed; still I only half believed many of the -things she reported, the real purport of her statements -did not yet sink into my soul as they were -soon to do, fact upon fact, result upon result, as I -found out their truth for myself.</p> - -<p>During my stay at Littlehampton I witnessed a -scene which produced a great impression upon my -conscience. One morning, while wandering through -the little town, I came on a crowd. All kinds of -people were forming a ring round a sheep which had -escaped as it was being taken to the slaughter-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>house. -It looked old and misshapen. A vision -suddenly rose in my mind of what it should have -been on its native mountain-side with all its forces -rightly developed, vigorous and independent. There -was a hideous contrast between that vision and the -thing in the crowd. With growing fear and distress -the sheep ran about more clumsily and became a -source of amusement to the onlookers, who laughed -and jeered at it. At last it was caught by its two -gaolers, and as they carried it away one of them, -resenting its struggles, gave it a great cuff in the -face. At that I felt exasperated. I went up to -the men and said, “Don’t you know your own -business? You have this creature absolutely in -your power. If you were holding it properly it -would be still. You are taking it to be killed, you -are doing your job badly to hurt and insult it -besides.” The men seemed ashamed, they adjusted -their hold more efficiently and the crowd slunk -away. From my babyhood I have felt a burning -indignation against unkindness to animals, and in -their defence I have sometimes acted with a courage -not natural to me. But on seeing this sheep it -seemed to reveal to me for the first time the position -of women throughout the world. I realised how -often women are held in contempt as beings outside -the pale of human dignity, excluded or confined, -laughed at and insulted because of conditions in -themselves for which they are not responsible, but -which are due to fundamental injustices with -regard to them, and to the mistakes of a civilisation -in the shaping of which they have had no free share. -I was ashamed to remember that although my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -sympathy had been spontaneous with regard to -the wrongs of animals, of children, of men and -women who belonged to down-trodden races or -classes of society, yet that hitherto I had been -blind to the sufferings peculiar to women as such, -which are endured by women of every class, every -race, every nationality, and that although nearly all -the great thinkers and teachers of humanity have -preached sex-equality, women have no champions -among the various accepted political or moral laws -which serve to mould public opinion of the present -day.</p> - -<p>Nothing could have exceeded the patience, the -considerate sympathy even, with which both Annie -Kenney and Mrs. Lawrence endured my arguments, -arguments, as I now realise them to have been, -without any genuine element, stereotyped and -shallow. Before we parted, Mrs. Lawrence said to -me, and it was the only one of her remarks which -savoured in the least of the contempt which my -attitude at that time so richly deserved, “You are -sufficiently interested in our policy to criticise it, -will you be sufficiently interested to study its cause -and read up our case?”</p> - -<p>For two months I “read up” the subject as I had -never read in my life before; I took in the weekly -paper <cite>Votes for Women</cite>, the only publication which -gave events as they happened, not as they were -supposed to happen. I attended as many meetings -as I could, and the breakfasts of released suffrage -prisoners, whereat the spirit behind this movement, -its driving force, seemed best exemplified. Above -all, I watched current politics from a different point<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -of view. I still held back from being converted, I -criticised and argued at every turn, over every -fresh demonstration of the W.S.P.U., but I began to -realise of what stuff the workers in the movement -were made; what price they paid for their services -so gladly given; how far removed they were from -any taint of self-glorification, and how amazingly -they played the game of incessantly advertising the -Cause without ever developing the curse of self-advertisement. -I have never been amongst people -of any sort who were so entirely free from self-consciousness, -self-seeking and self-vaunting.</p> - -<p>At this juncture of my conversion I was much -concerned with the arguments of Anti-Suffragists. -I wrote a pamphlet to refute their points of view, as -generally presented in newspapers and magazines. -I was always, as it were, stopping on my road to -combat their attitude. It was only after considerably -longer experience that I realised the waste -of energy entailed by this process, since the practical -opposition which blocks the way to the legal -removal of sex disability is not due to those men or -women who have courage to publicly record their -opposition, but to those who take shelter in verbally -advocating the cause, while at the same time -opposing any effective move for its achievement. -Anti-suffrage arguments or agitations should, of -course, be met whenever they present themselves, -but it soon became clear to me that in private intercourse -many people put them forward without any -conviction, merely as a way of opening the conversation, -and while at heart much more interested -in the positive than the negative side of the question.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -The same is true of public audiences. The assertive -claim to the value of voting rights for men, wherever -these are denied, is perennially educating the public -to our contention; one has but to catch them -“at it” to illustrate the claim of women. The -drawbacks resulting from laws and customs based -on sex bias are also constantly put forward by -Anti-Suffragist men themselves, when they are not -considering the possible infringement of their own -monopolies. Lord Cromer has headed the agitation -against freedom for women in Great Britain. When -he was responsible for the welfare of Egypt, he wrote, -concerning the Prophet Mahomet: “Unfortunately -the great Arabian reformer of the seventh century -was driven by the necessities of his position to do -more than found a religion. He endeavoured to -found a social system. The reasons why Islam as a -social system has been a complete failure are manifold. -First and foremost Islam keeps women in a -position of marked inferiority.” He quotes Stanley -Lane Poole in corroboration: “The degradation of -women in the East is a canker that begins its -destructive work early in childhood, and has eaten -into the whole system of Islam.” Lord Cromer -then draws conclusions worthy of the most ardent -Suffragette: <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>“Look now to the consequences -which result from the degradation of women in -Mahomedan countries. It cannot be doubted -that the seclusion of women exercises a baneful -effect on Eastern society. The arguments on this -subject are indeed so commonplace that it is unnecessary -to dwell on them. It will be sufficient to -say that seclusion, by confining the sphere of -women’s interest to a very limited horizon, cramps -the intellect and withers the mental development -of one-half of the population in Moslem countries.... -Moreover, inasmuch as women, in their -capacities of wives and mothers exercise a great -influence over the characters of their husbands and -sons, it is obvious that the seclusion of women must -produce a deteriorating effect on the male population, -in whose presumed interests the custom was -originally established, and is still maintained” -(“<cite class="plain">Modern Egypt</cite>,” <abbr title="Volume 2">Vol. II.</abbr>, chapter entitled -“Dwellers in Egypt,” <abbr title="pages">pp.</abbr> 134, 155, 156, First -Edition). The contention of woman Suffragists -could not be more reasonably presented. Add to -this the belief of Englishmen in the power of the -vote to lift from degradation and to widen the outlook -of citizens; their attitude towards rebellions -on behalf of constitutional rights by Russians, -Turks, Persians, and Uitlanders of South Africa; -the principles of every constitution in which -Britishers have had a hand, notably in Australasia -and South Africa, and the case is complete. To -meet the Anti-Woman Suffragist arguments, it is -only necessary to quote their own utterances.</p> - -<p>My own researches had shown me not only the -grievous harm to women from the inequalities of law -and custom with regard to them, but that in many -matters concerning men, and in practically all questions -relating to children, the help of women was -needed with an urgency that would no longer justify -delay. I learnt that before resorting to militancy -the women’s organisations had for many years past -succeeded in obtaining a majority of supporters in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -the House of Commons, and the backing of leading -men of both parties. It was startling to realise that -the professed advocacy of such men as Lord Beaconsfield, -the late Lord Salisbury and Mr. Arthur -Balfour had not moved the Conservative party in -any way to assist their cause. When the Liberal -Government was returned to power in 1906, under -the leadership of Sir Henry Campbell Bannerman, he -himself was a declared Suffragist, as were all but a -few of the men of most influence in his Cabinet, -including Mr. Birrell, Mr. Buxton, Mr. John Morley -and Mr. John Burns. Sir Edward Grey and Mr. -Haldane had themselves introduced a Woman -Suffrage Bill in 1889. Mr. Lloyd George, Mr. -Runciman and Mr. Winston Churchill, who joined -the Cabinet in 1908, were strong verbal advocates of -votes for women. The women had tried repeatedly, -and always in vain, every peaceable means open to -them of influencing successive Governments. Processions -and petitions were absolutely useless. I -saw the extreme need of their position, the ineffectiveness -of every method hitherto adopted to -persuade these professed Suffragists to put their -theories into practice. But I still held aloof from -completely backing their militant action owing to -mistrustfulness bred of ignorance as to its true -nature.</p> - -<p>After six weeks I reached the stage when I had -little left to say against the movement and my -enthusiasm for the workers in it was considerable, -but on the whole my attitude was of a negative -order. I was still not prepared to back my theoretic -approval by action when, on October 13, Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -Pankhurst, Mrs. Drummond and Christabel Pankhurst -were arrested for issuing the famous handbill -calling upon the people of London to witness the -women’s deputation to the Prime Minister and to -help them “rush” the House of Commons.</p> - -<p>At a crowded meeting at the Queen’s Hall the -previous day, Monday, October 12, the leaders -announced that a warrant had been served upon -them and that at any moment the police might come -in and arrest them on the platform. The meeting -was enthusiastically in their favour and the announcement -caused an outburst of indignation. This, -however, was instantly suppressed by the leaders, -who explained that they were under a compact with -the managers of the hall never to use these weekly -meetings for any insubordinate demonstrations; -that if the police arrived and proceeded to arrest -them they would only be carrying out their orders; -that if this happened, no interference, not a murmur -of resentment must come from the audience. After -a few moments they settled down under this decree -with reluctant but strikingly obedient resignation. -Before long the police were announced to be at the -door. After some moments of interchanging -messages with the leaders on the platform, during -which the suspense in the hall was tremendously -taut, the police left saying that the women arrested -would have to report themselves at Bow Street the -following morning. The next day, Tuesday, -October 13, I called at the W.S.P.U. offices in -Clement’s Inn to offer my sympathy. I regretted -that I was still not sufficiently in agreement with -their militant policy to join the deputation, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -inquired whether there were any lesser services which -I could render them. I was asked to try and approach -the Home Secretary with a view to securing -1st Division treatment for the prisoners as political -offenders instead of ranking them, as hitherto, with -criminals in the 2nd and 3rd Divisions. From the -first I had been in sympathy with this demand. To -publicly maintain that the Suffragists, even if their -breaking of the law were proved, had anything in -common with the ordinary transgressor for selfish -ends, appeared to me ludicrous as well as tyrannous -on the part of the Government. I therefore -willingly undertook the task, although I was convinced -that my efforts would meet with no immediate -success. I had already grasped this much -of the spirit of the militants that rightness of aim is -the factor controlling their actions; likeliness of -achievement, in so far as this depends not on themselves -but on their opponents, is not a matter to be -considered. Looking back at the advance of their -cause since militant action began in October, 1905, -it seems to me that its amazing rapidity has been -chiefly due to the unswerving carrying out of this -principle. At every stage the militants selected a -line of conduct, not in itself rebellious, but on the -contrary, morally and constitutionally in accordance -with accepted opinion and law. It has been the -ignoring or deliberate repression of their lawful -claims which produced disturbances. The unreasoned -punishments which followed in no way -altered the women’s need nor their determined -claim for legal redress. The sufferings of their -comrades merely heaped fuel on the fires of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -enthusiasm and inevitably exposed the reactionary -nature of the Government’s attitude towards them. -I did not obtain 1st Division treatment for the -prisoners, but my observations during that memorable -day made me a complete convert to the policy -of militancy.</p> - -<p>From about 4 in the afternoon to 11.30 at night -I was incessantly on the move between Clement’s -Inn, the House of Commons, Bow Street Police -Station and the private residence of the magistrate. -I had ample opportunity of noticing the nature of -the crowd summoned by the famous handbill and -of studying the attitude of mind of the authorities, -of the Home Office, the magistrate, and of the -police towards our movement. The facts which I -noted that day as a spectator were typical, and -corroborated afterwards in every respect when it -came to my own experience. The decisions of the -Government as expressed through the Home Office -were pre-determined and detached from any consideration -of the political demand which was the -root cause of the women’s rebellion. The magistrate’s -attitude was obviously affected, whether -directly or indirectly, by the Government’s lead. -The political nature of the offences of which our -prisoners were accused was not admitted; their -purely nominal crimes were nevertheless punished -with a severity that was unheard of had they been -judged as ordinary disturbers of the peace. It was -clear that the political motive of their actions was -recognised sufficiently to justify the authorities in -assuming that these actions would be continuous, -an example to others, and a dangerous appeal from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -an organised body, but the reason was ignored -when there was question of an inquiry into the -political motive itself. The police showed a much -more straightforward and impartial attitude whenever -the conduct of our case was left entirely in -their hands. They never for a moment looked upon -the suffrage prisoners as ordinary rowdies, they -realised that our motives were political and our -actions peaceable, but that our appeals were met -in a quite different spirit from those of other political -agitators. The police, of course, in turn came -under the influence of those in authority over them, -and when under orders would knock us about in the -streets, and accuse us in the courts, according to -the requirements imposed upon them. Under this -pressure, individual policemen would occasionally -act with brutality and unfairness, but in the main -their treatment of Suffragists was in striking contrast -to that of the magistrates, the Home Office -and the Government. A great number of police -constables are better versed in the suffrage question -and the woman question generally than most -politicians. They have been obliged to attend our -meetings. They know both the political and moral -ethics of our policy. I have heard more intelligent -reasoning about votes for women from policemen -(both when my identity was known to them and -when it was not) than has issued, with but rare -exceptions, from the House of Commons.</p> - -<p>During the afternoon and evening of this day I -had my first experience of a suffrage crowd, immense -in numbers, embracing every shade of opinion -on the question, from enthusiasm in favour to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -contemptuous or angry hostility, largely interspersed -with curiosity-mongers who were fascinated by the -fight although without interest for its cause. There -were men and women of all classes, but rowdyism -was plainly not there, and from that day forward I -was convinced of the fact, self-evident enough in all -conscience, that the women never appealed to -hooliganism and that they had nothing to gain -from and nothing to offer to that element in the -mob. The women, and the men too, who fight in -this cause, or assist it ever so remotely, have never -been and never will be of a self-seeking type, nor are -they lovers of disturbance for its own sake.</p> - -<p>I first of all tried to interview the Home Secretary, -Mr. Herbert Gladstone,<a name="Anchor_1" id="Anchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 1.">[1]</a> at the House of Commons. -I did not see him, but a friendly member of Parliament -acted as messenger boy between us. I -asked: (1) Would he use his powers to ensure that -the three prisoners should be sentenced to the -1st Division, and not to the 2nd Division as though -they were common criminals, which obviously they -were not? <em>Reply</em>: As the prisoners were not yet -arrested he could not possibly adjudicate on the -question of their sentences. (2) If I returned at -six o’clock, the hour when they were to surrender to -the summons, would he then give me an answer? -<em>Reply</em>: He had not the power, the question rested -with the police-court authorities; he had determined -never to interfere with sentences. (3) Would -he give me a permit or some sort of facilities to -approach the magistrate? My messenger told me -that it would be useless to put this question, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -Mr. Gladstone was in a state of great anger over the -whole proceedings, and that, even if he had the -power, nothing would induce him to help the -Suffragettes to 1st Division treatment. I then went -to Bow Street Police Court. The crowds were dense -in Parliament Square, Parliament Street, and -Trafalgar Square, but extremely orderly. When I -reached Bow Street it was past six o’clock and the -magistrate had left. On inquiring where I could -find him, I was ushered into an inner room before a -superintendent who wore a flat cap, not the usual -policeman’s helmet. He was very civil, but told -me it was against the rules to give the private -addresses of magistrates and that Mr. Curtis Bennett -would not be back until ten o’clock the following -morning for the Court. I put various other questions. -Though offering no practical assistance the -answers led me to realise a strangely unexpected -atmosphere of sympathy, and after a few moments -hesitation I found myself telling this superintendent -the full purport of my mission. To my intense -surprise he not only expressed much approval, but -burst out with a torrent of abuse against the Government—“Why -to goodness couldn’t the Prime -Minister receive the women’s deputation same as -any other? The brunt of the whole business falls -on us, and it’s the beastliest job we’ve ever had.” -Then he added, “The prisoners are here now, in -the cells, would you like to see them?” I felt -almost overwhelmed that so unworthy and half-hearted -a follower as myself should be the one to -have this grand opportunity, but, of course, I -availed myself of it without a moment’s hesitation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -I was shown through a series of passages and up a -flight of stairs, where a wardress was in charge. -This October day was damp and foggy with the -first sense of autumn chill, but as I was led on -towards the cells the atmosphere became perceptibly -damper and colder at every step, as in a -vault. I realised for the first time the actual -meaning of the word “<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">puanteur</span>,” which haunts -the pages of Dostoievsky’s account of his imprisonments, -the smell, as it were, of deadness pervading, -I should imagine, every building, however cleanly -washed, which is built and used to incarcerate -human beings solely for punitive purposes. I had -never seen Mrs. Pankhurst except on a public platform -at moments when she was surrounded by -public enthusiasm and personal devotion, such as -are rarely accorded even to great leaders. My -critical faculty is easily aroused by success, and -although I recognised the single-mindedness of her -aims, the uprightness of her character, the vigour -of her intellect and convincing oratorical gifts, the -charm of her personality and, above all, the magnificent -power of her leadership, yet I had hitherto not -felt drawn to this remarkable woman. It was with -no sense of hero-worship that in reply to the -wardress’ friendly question, “Which of the ladies -do you wish to see?” I answered, “Mrs. Pankhurst.” -She went to a cell door, many of which -lined one side of a passage as the horse-boxes of a -stable, and drew aside the shutter of a small grating. -I looked through into a land of animal’s den, dimly -lit and furnished only with a bare wooden bench -running along the side of the wall, and terminating in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -a sanitary convenience. Standing erect as she moved -towards the grating, was a woman whose appearance -struck awe into every fibre of my being. A -splendour of defiance and indignation pervaded her -face, yet she was controlled and her attitude conveyed -no suggestion of personal grievance. From -that moment I recognised in her, and I have held -the vision undimmed ever since, the guardian protector -of this amazing woman’s movement, conscious -not only of the thousands who follow her lead -to-day, but of the martyred generations of the past -and of the women of the future whose welfare -depends upon the path hewn out for them to-day. -I seemed to grasp prophetically and all at once the -characteristic qualities which I learnt later on by -closer observation and experience. I saw that the -quality of sternness, which presented so unyielding -a front to every opponent and every obstacle, -drew its force from deep fountains of understanding, -of sympathy and of love. While she -most perfectly fulfilled her mission of pioneer, and -shirked none of the responsibilities accruing to the -lead, yet the efficiency and glamour attending the -fulfilment of that mission were due to her recognition -of the elements behind her, as an arrow-head -derives its force from the construction of the whole -weapon. The seemingly miraculous power of leadership -with which the controllers of this militant -movement are gifted is due to the fact that they too -are fellow servants of a cause which they recognise -is of infinitely greater importance than themselves -or any other individual, they share with the humblest -member of the rank and file the sense of loyalty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -and bond-allegiance to a common ideal—the welfare -of women throughout the world.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h3 title="">Footnote:</h3> - -<ul> -<li><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#Anchor_1" class="fnlabel">[1]</a> Afterwards Lord Gladstone. -</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p>I was advised by Mrs. Pankhurst how to turn my -services to the best account and not to mind -about the 1st Division, as they themselves could -plead it in court, but to get them released for that -night or they would not be able to plead properly, -from fatigue. After a fruitless search of some -hours for the magistrate in the wilds of West -Kensington and a return to the office at Clement’s -Inn for further instructions, I at last ran my quarry -to ground somewhere near Olympia. The magistrate, -Mr. Curtis Bennett,<a name="Anchor_2" id="Anchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 2.">[2]</a> received me courteously, -but his face promptly assumed an official-defensive -expression on learning my quest. If I had come -to ask him about the trial next day he must request -me not to proceed, since he must keep his mind unbiassed. -I explained that I was altogether new to -the rules of the game which he had at his fingers’ -ends. That, as I was ignorant which questions I -might or might not put to him, it would be best for -me to unburden myself and for him to select which -of my demands he could answer. He saw the reason -of this and kindly consented to the arrangement. -In reply, he could make no statement as to which -Division he would sentence the prisoners, nor could -they be let out on bail that night, because of the -late hour at which they had responded to the summonses. -As to taking them food and bedding, that -was a matter for the police to decide, it was beyond -his jurisdiction. I was thankful to hear this, -knowing that the police were not likely to offer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -objections when matters were left solely to their -care. I went back to Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, and -in a few minutes we had taken bedding and rugs -and were off to the police station at Bow Street. -We found that a Member of Parliament, Mr. -James Murray, had visited our friends and ordered -everything they wanted from an hotel, making -them as comfortable as possible for the night.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h3 title="">Footnote:</h3> - -<ul> -<li><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#Anchor_2" class="fnlabel">[2]</a> Afterwards Sir Curtis Bennett, who since died in 1913. -</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p>The next day their trial took place. After the -evidence of the police had been taken, Christabel -Pankhurst asked for an adjournment, in order to -take legal advice and to prepare a defence. This -was granted for one week. During the interval, -Christabel secured the attendance of Mr. Lloyd -George, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and of Mr. -Herbert Gladstone, Home Secretary, as witnesses -for the defence. The adjourned hearing of the case -on October 21 lasted from 10.30 to 7.30 at night, -with only two short intervals. The trial was -immensely impressive, the three figures stood up at -different times, and it was obvious to all who listened -to the case that they were fighting against evil and -were in all things most essentially good, so that one -was awed by them. When the two members of the -Cabinet gave evidence, the futility of the part they -played was most obvious and they presented an -appearance that was petty and contemptible to the -last degree. There were a great many other witnesses, -of whom I was one, in support of the contention -that the crowd on the evening of October 13 -was an orderly one, and that no violence was done. -At 7.30 Christabel Pankhurst said she had still fifty -witnesses to call, and the case was adjourned to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -Saturday, October 24. It was owing to Mrs. Pankhurst’s -speech on this occasion that I felt taken hold -of by the movement. Every sentence of it seemed -to be true, dignified, strong, entirely respectful. -This passage I more especially remember: “You -know that women have tried to do something to -come to the aid of their own sex.... I was in the -hospital at Holloway, and when I was there I heard -from one of the beds near me the moans of a woman -who was in the pangs of childbirth. I should like -you to realise how women feel at helpless little -infants breathing their first breath in the atmosphere -of a prison. We believe that if we get the vote we -will find some more humane way of dealing with -women than that.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Drummond made me feel faith in the woman’s -movement, her type was most lovable, full of daring -for the enemies of woman, full of patience in working -for them, full of the most noble kind of humility in -her reverence for them.</p> - -<p>Christabel Pankhurst was the sunrise of the -woman’s movement, I cannot describe her in any -other way. The glow of her great vitality and the -joy of her being took hold of the movement and made -it gladness. Yet, her nature being so essentially a -woman’s, there was a vein of tenderness throughout -her speech, and her strength lay in her steadfast, -resourceful and brilliant intellect.</p> - -<p>With the exception of declining to give a pledge to -keep the peace for twelve months, a pledge which -these women were quite unable to accept, they had -been guilty of no offence. Mrs. Pankhurst and -Mrs. Drummond were each sentenced to three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -months’ imprisonment, and Christabel Pankhurst -to ten weeks’ (two and a half months) imprisonment. -It was like darkness when these three were in prison. -Mrs. Pethick Lawrence and Sylvia Pankhurst, -Christabel’s sister, kept the weekly meetings going -at the Queen’s Hall in a splendid way. Sylvia is an -artist by profession and an artist at heart, but whenever -the women’s movement wants her she is there -for its bidding. She looked all that is most modest -and humble, but speaking seemed to come as a -second nature to her as to everyone of the Pankhursts, -and at times I could not have believed, but -for having heard and seen, the splendid political -speech which came from that young girl. During -this time I lived in the country and seldom came to -London. I needed no converting now and my only -wish was to convince my mother.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="III" title="CHAPTER III. A DEPUTATION TO THE PRIME MINISTER">CHAPTER <abbr title="3">III</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">A DEPUTATION TO THE PRIME MINISTER</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Throughout</span> this month of January, 1909, I -became convinced that I should be justified in -offering myself as a member of the next deputation -to the Prime Minister to demand the removal of -women’s disabilities to the Parliamentary franchise. -I became a member of the Women’s Social and -Political Union, and on January 28 I wrote to Mrs. -Pethick Lawrence offering myself for the deputation. -I did not tell anybody but her of my decision. -On the 30th I received her answer, accepting my -offer.</p> - -<p>On February 24 I went up to London from Homewood, -without telling mother of the plan and actually -without saying good-bye to her, as she went out to -the village before I started. I wrote her the -following letter at King’s Cross Station, but did not -post it till later in the day:—</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="address_date"> -“Wednesday, February 24, 1909.<br /> -</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">My Angel Mother</span>,—I don’t know whether I -shall post this to you or see you first. I want to -have a letter ready.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be startled or afraid. I have something -to tell you which—with the help of recent presentiments—you, -I know, are half expecting to hear.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> - -<p>“If you ever see this letter it will mean that after -joining the deputation I have been arrested and -shall not see you again until I have been to Holloway. -For months I have been planning this letter to you, -but now that the time has come, it is not any easier -to write for that. Of course, my hope has been all -along that I should be able to take you into my -confidence, that I should have the perhaps all-undeserved -yet heaven-like joy of knowing that -though you could not share all my views, yet that -you would understand why I held them, and, granted -these, you would further understand my action and -the great sacrifice which I know it means to you. -My darling Muddy, you will never know, I trust, the -pain it is to have to do this thing without your -sympathy and help—with, on the contrary, the -certainty that it shocks you and hurts you and makes -you suffer in numberless ways. Hardly a day has -passed but what I have tried to feel my way with you, -tried to convert you—not to my theoretic views, -difference there does not matter, but to my intended -conduct in connection with them. Every day I -have failed. If I decided to do this thing, absolute -secrecy was necessary, for, the whole of these police -regulations being arbitrarily ordered and special to -the case, they would never arrest me, not, I mean, -unless I really broke the law, if they knew who I was. -Unless I had your sympathy and understanding, it -was, of course, hopeless to count on your secrecy. I -had two alternatives, to give up the plan, or to keep -it and deceive you about it. I chose this last. For -your sake I have tried never to tell you an actual lie -in words. I have not done this, and that is, perhaps,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -why you have your suspicions. But to my conscience -that is no easier. It was my intention to -deceive you, and I have deceived you, and, for all -practical purposes, successfully. Once the intention -is to deceive, it seems to me not to make any -difference how it is done.</p> - -<p>“You will be angry. If it could be only that. -But you will be hurt through and through. As I -write the words their meaning is acute in my mind -and heart. You will hardly care to know, but I must -tell you what has decided me to take this torturing -step.</p> - -<p>“Prisons, as you know, have been my hobby. -What maternity there lurks in me has for years past -been gradually awakening over the fate of prisoners, -the deliberate, cruel harm that is done to them, their -souls and bodies, the ignorant, exasperating waste of -good opportunities in connection with them, till now -the thought of them, the yearning after them, turns -in me and tugs at me as vitally and irrepressibly as -ever a physical child can call upon its mother.</p> - -<p>“The moment I got near the Suffragettes the way -to this child of mine seemed easy and straight. But -I knew the temptation to think this must make me -doubly sure of my ground. I have felt from the first -that I could not take this woman’s movement merely -as an excuse for Holloway. I have waited till my -conviction was genuine and deep at every point, and -till the opportunity occurred for facing the police -regulations in a way possible to my whole nature, -temperament, conscience. There are several other -things which the Suffragettes do, which I would not -and could not do.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I finally made up my mind in about the middle -of January, and soon after wrote to Mrs. Pethick -Lawrence. Enclosed is her answer. I had not -recently been seeing them, or going to meetings, or -in any way specially communicating with them. I -took the decision entirely on myself, in no way consulted -her nor asked her advice; even had they not -accepted me in the deputation I should have joined -outside.</p> - -<p>“About the physical discomforts part of Holloway, -don’t be distressed for that. These are already -nothing to what they were. And I am such a muff, -what remains of hardship will be wholesome for me—really -‘reformatory’ for me as imprisonment -seldom is to others. If I could only know that you -will help me face it, it would be nothing to me. It’s -my journeying after the hobby that sucks up my -soul like a tide, my Nile sources, my Thibet, my -Ruvenzori. If you, my splendid Mother, will only -help me in spirit that the little spark of Sven Hedin -shall not fail in me. I am no hero, but the thought -of other travellers’ much worse privations on that -road will, I believe, fizzle up my flimsy body enough -for what is necessary, and if only I knew you were -helping me in your heart I should not, could not, -fail, Muddy darling.</p> - -<p>“You can’t forgive me now, but perhaps you will -some day. Whatever you feel towards me, whatever -I do, I shall still be always</p> - -<p class="title3"> -“Your most loving and devoted</p> -<p class="signed"> -“<span class="smcap">Con.</span> -</p> - -<p>“The account papers, tradesmen addresses, wages -paper, are in the lift-up place of desk on dining-room<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -writing table. I expect I shall be away from you a -month. The others will cling round you. If I were -going a trip abroad you would not resent the -separation. In my little warm cupboard nest in -Holloway my only thought of the outer world will be -of you. I shall try anyhow to get back to you -to-night.</p> - -<p class="signed"> -“<span class="smcap">Con.</span>”<br /> -</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>I went to 4, Clement’s Inn, lunched there with -Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, Christabel, Mrs. Pankhurst -and Mrs. Tuke; Miss Neal came too. She kindly -undertook to post my letter to mother and buy me -a brush and comb and toothbrush in case we should -be sent to the 1st Division.</p> - -<p>I had a cracking headache and felt quite dazed. -They kindly put me to lie down in the upstairs rest -room boudoir, where Mrs. Pankhurst and Christabel -had remained hidden from the police on October 14, -1908.</p> - -<p>At about six o’clock we had supper. I ate next -to nothing. Miss Elsa Gye, who had been summoned -by telegraph to come and assist me through -the Deputation, was at supper. She was a delightful -girl, young and fresh-looking. I had been told that -she was just engaged to be married, and I felt it was -horrible that she should risk weeks of imprisonment -solely because of me.</p> - -<p>I had disguised myself by doing my hair in an -early-Victorian way, so that the police, if on the -look out for me, should not recognise me and so be -tempted not to arrest me; for people whose relatives -might make a fuss effectively are considered -awkward customers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> - -<p>At about seven Miss Gye and I set out and hailed -a taxi. I found I had left my ticket behind for the -Caxton Hall Meeting. So I flew back to Clement’s -Inn to get it. It was a raw, cold night, but I had -been advised to dispense with my muff and boa, as -these, I was told, would almost certainly be torn -to shreds “in the hustling”; this gave one a -rather gruesome warning of what was to be expected -from the handling of the police. We were each -given a copy of the resolution which was to be put -to the meeting. As we drove to Caxton Hall, it -suddenly struck me that I had not sufficiently -learnt up my part. “What does one have to do?” -I asked. “I suppose I must do something to show -that I mean business.” “Oh, no,” my companion -answered, “you needn’t bother about what you’ll -do. It will all be done <em>to</em> you. There is only one -thing you must remember. It is our business to -go forward, and whatever is said to you and whatever -is done to you, you must on no account be -turned back.” That seemed to me at the time, and -has seemed to me ever since, to be the essence of our -militant tactics. I afterwards heard it yet better -summarised by Mrs. Pankhurst: “Our demand is -just and moderate. We press our cause reasonably -and in a law-abiding spirit, but in such a way that -we give the Government but two alternatives—either -to do us justice or to do us violence.” My -companion also told me that if the police became -too violent, I could cut matters short and ensure -instant arrest by the semblance of making a speech -or collecting a crowd round me for that purpose, -since these offences constituted a breach of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -peace. Miss Gye and I sat in the body of the hall, -we had on the “Votes for Women” sashes and -were to join the Deputation unostentatiously as it -left the building.</p> - -<p>The appearance of the Deputation on the platform -was remarkable for the look of dignity and -pathetic earnestness of the members, many of them -white-haired, and one or two young and pretty -girls.<a name="Anchor_3" id="Anchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 3.">[3]</a> The speeches seemed to be very much to -the point. I could hardly listen to them for the -distracting thought of when my mother would hear -about me and what she would think and feel; but -I had no wish to shirk, and never for a moment did -I doubt that I had done right.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h3 title="">Footnote:</h3> - -<ul> -<li><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#Anchor_3" class="fnlabel">[3]</a> The Deputation was composed of our leader Mrs. -Pethick Lawrence, Miss Daisy Solomon, Mrs. Vans Agnew -Corbett, Miss Una Dugdale, Miss Madeline Petre, Miss -E. H. Chesshire, Mrs. Caprina Fahey, Miss M. Barnet, Miss -Margaret Davies Colley, Miss Margaret E. Rodgers, Miss -Mary Allen, Miss Ellen Pitman, Miss Maud Freeman, Mrs. -Katherine Richmond, Miss Mary Lethune, Miss M. Adair -Roberts, Miss Leslie Lawless, Miss Caroline Townsend, -Mrs. Tyson, Miss M. Tyson, Miss Ainsworth, Mrs. Lamartine -Yates, Miss M. E. Thompson, Miss Helen Kirkpatrick -Watts, Miss Kate Walsh, Miss Sara Carwin, Mrs. Saul -Solomon, who was not eventually arrested, and Miss Elsa -Gye and myself brought the number to twenty-nine. -</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p>Many friends had seen and not recognised me, at -which I was delighted. Others did recognise me, -and seeing I had the sash on, which meant the -Deputation, they looked immensely surprised.</p> - -<p>Presently the Deputation came down from the -platform, formed up in couples, headed by Mrs. -Pethick Lawrence, and marched out of the hall. -Miss Gye and I joined in behind the sixth or seventh -couple. We were thirty women in all. By this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -time I had a feeling of exhilaration that the moment -for my own independent action had come at last. -I had a vague notion that I should have to encounter -physical difficulties, but since I had merely to meet -them and endure them, knowing that I could lay no -claim to overcoming these by physical powers of -which I was deficient, the way from that moment -seemed plain and easy. I felt proud to be one of -the active ones at last, to be the companion of these -women in particular, whom I had watched on the -platform, and to know that the Deputation was -headed by one of our leaders who had first revealed -the woman’s movement to me.</p> - -<p>The following resolution was put to the meeting -and carried with acclamation: “That this Parliament -of women expresses its indignation that while -every measure in the King’s Speech vitally affects -the interests of their sex, and while heavier financial -burdens are to be laid upon woman tax-payers, the -Government have not included in the programme for -the session a measure to confer the Parliamentary -vote upon duly qualified women. The women here -assembled call upon the Government to introduce -and carry into law this session a measure giving votes -to women on the same terms as to men.</p> - -<p>“A Deputation is hereby appointed, to whom is -entrusted the duty of forthwith conveying this -resolution to the Prime Minister at the House of -Commons and eliciting his reply.”</p> - -<p>A copy was then handed to each member of the -Deputation.</p> - -<p>Of all the undesirable possibilities before me, I -dreaded most lest by some horrible twist of fate the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -leaders of the Deputation should be refused admittance, -and I, if recognised, should have the lonely -privilege thrust upon me of being received. I had -never made a regular speech, and two attempts I had -made at narrating my experiences of the previous -October to a village audience had not been reassuring. -My own point of view was definite enough, but -I did not feel equipped to speak for others. When -deciding to go on the Deputation I had, however, -taken stock of my representative character and -asked myself for which group of women I should -stand, what was my atom’s share in this movement -if I did not strain after any vicarious office but merely -added my own personal weight to the scale? Without -doubt I myself was one of that numerous gang -of upper class leisured class spinsters, unemployed, -unpropertied, unendowed, uneducated, without -equipment or training for public service, economically -dependent entirely upon others, not masters of their -own leisure, however oppressively abundant that -might seem to the onlooker. In a class where property -runs with primogeniture, the first-born, if a -female, is overlooked. In a class the whole status -of which is based on property, on wealth to live at -ease and in luxury, property is only dealt out to -women, if at all, after male relatives have been served -first, and then, as a rule, in much less proportion. -Posts of honour and remuneration are barred to them -in nearly all professions, in even those few they are -allowed to enter. They remain almost invariably -without honour of titles or lands or wealth, even -where their services have been sought. Posts of -Government are exclusively for men, with the sole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -exception of the Sovereign. Trained to luxury and -untrained to remunerative work, they are for the -most part dependents from childhood to the grave. -A maiming subserviency is so conditional to their -very existence that it becomes an aim in itself, an -ideal. Driven through life with blinkers on, they -are unresentful of the bridle, the rein and the whip, -uncritical of the direction in which they are driven, -unmindful of the result to others as well as to themselves -of their maintainer’s beliefs and policy, whatever -they may be. The bride at the sacred ritual of -her marriage festival hears from her husband the -words, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I -thee worship, with all my worldly goods I thee -endow.” She knows at the time and she learns yet -more intimately as life goes on that those words have -no practical bearing, and that at her husband’s -death the greater part of even that property which -had been seemingly made over to her during his lifetime -will pass from her hands at the wane of her -lonely existence, when she needs it most, into those -of her son or some more distant relative. The -literal, practical, interpretation of that husband’s -vow—yes, of the vow even of good and well-intentioned -husbands—most usually is: “With -this ring I thee bind, with my body I thee control, -with none of my worldly goods I thee endow.” As -a widow more often than not she sinks, because of -her financial position, to a social state out of touch -with all her past life. But at least the wives, the -widows, generally have children through whom their -powers of service to their families and to the community -in general are to a certain extent developed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -and recognised, and which give them a certain -insight into the realities of existence. They also -have known well-being and vicarious honour through -their husbands. But to the single woman, the old -maid of later years, the paralysing worship of -incapacity dominates life, the chain of limitations -and restrictions is but seldom broken, and never -overcome save by exceptional force of character or -ability. Even then how often it is only the beating -of wings against unyielding and maiming bars; freedom, -if attained, rendered useless by lack of preparation -in the competition against trained and privileged -beings of the male sex, and the vain ambition -ends in a seeming mutiny, nothing more—a distortion, -an abnormality, an untidiness of creation.</p> - -<p>I could stand indeed for the superfluous spinster, -but who would listen to a messenger from this mute -array, who cares for the blind, the lamed, the maimed -and the dumb? The fearful unnecessity of their -disablement awakes no pity, no heart softens at -thought of them, no politician would feel his conscience -pricked by the narration of their grievances. -A yoke so submitted to, so uselessly endured, can -claim no reverence of martyrdom. But before condemning -those who submit to it, I wish that our -critics could realise what it means to be born under -this yoke and then try to shake it off.</p> - -<p>It is easy to see that if women are to appeal -effectively to a modern parliament for the rights of -liberty and representation which so long have been -recognised among men, it must be through the -working women, the bread-winning woman. Her -situation is easily comparable to that of the working-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>class -man who quite recently has had himself to -fight in order to win his denied claim to freedom, a -fact which he, and others for him, still remember. -The aristocracy, the landed proprietor, the middle-class -trader, each in turn was driven to claim and -fight for these same rights. But their struggle was -of long ago, their security in this right has remained -unshaken for so many generations that they have -clean forgotten what it would mean to be without it. -It is by the side of the most recent victors that -women must put in their claim. With this class, -the working-class women, though at all times at one -with them in point of sympathy from theoretic -understanding of their troubles and needs, I -was not in direct touch and laid no first-hand -experiences that I could share with them. I read -the petitions of factory workers, of the sweated -home workers, of the professions—teachers, nurses, -medical women—with respect and whole-hearted -sympathy, but how could I stand for them when I -was not equipped to represent them?</p> - -<p>This was my state of mind until, walking from -Holloway to the City in one of our Suffragette -processions, I heard for the first time with my -own ears the well-worn taunt “Go home and do -your washing.” This awoke in me a magic response. -Since the days of my earliest childhood washing -had held great charm for me, and as a result I -had revered the washers exceptionally. In my -youth, the pursuit was associated exclusively with -laundry-workers, but in later years I realised that, -except in that small proportion of houses where -servants are kept, every woman is a laundrymaid,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -and that in every house throughout the land, or -indeed throughout the world, the cleaning and the -washing are done mainly by women, by wives and -mothers, their girl children or women servants. -Washing, the making clean that which had been -dirty, and making the crumpled and uncomfortable -things smooth, was my hobby. I was an amateur -scrubber and laundry-woman in the same spirit as -other unemployed females dabble in water-colour -drawings or hand embroidery. But much as I -personally enjoyed occasional experimenting in the -craft, it was easy to imagine how irksome the -occupation might become if one were driven to it -week by week with no release, under unsuitable -conditions, without the necessary equipment, in a -small house or single room, surrounded by children, -with a stinted water supply, inadequate firing -utensils, a weary body and a mind distraught as to -how to exist from day to day. From the moment -I heard that “washing” taunt in the street, I have -had eyes for the work of the washers. If there is -one single industry highly deserving of recognition -throughout the world of human existence and of -representation under parliamentary systems, it -surely is that of the washers, the renewers week by -week, the makers clean.</p> - -<p>I determined, if I should find myself the solitary -representative of the Deputation and its untrained -spokeswoman, I should point to the collars and -shirt fronts of the gentlemen who received me and -claim the freedom of citizenship for the washers. -As I stepped out from Caxton Hall, through the -grime of a foggy February evening, I caught sight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -of white collars here and there in the crowd, like -little flashing code-signals beckoning to us across -the darkness. The gnarled hands, the bent backs, -the tear-dimmed eyes of those that had washed -them white seemed to cry out, “Remember us. -Don’t be afraid to speak for us if you get through -to the presence of those who know nothing, heed -nothing of our toil.” I said in my heart, “I shall -remember, and I shall not be afraid in their presence.”</p> - -<p>We had scarcely stepped into the street before we -found ourselves hedged in by a <span title="upside down V shape">∧</span> shaped avenue -of police, narrowing as we advanced. They asked -no questions, said nothing, but proceeded to close -upon us from either side. My companion and I kept -together. Very soon all breath seemed to have been -pressed out of my body, but remembering the order -of the day, “Don’t be turned back,” I tried to hold -my ground even when advance was out of the question. -Miss Gye, however, soon realised the situation -and pulled me back, saying, “We are not yet in -Parliament Square; we must manage to get there -somehow; let’s try another way.” The police had -forced themselves between the ranks of the Deputation, -keeping them apart and trying also to sever the -couples, but Miss Gye and I managed to regain hold -of each other. I had not been able to reconnoitre in -the morning as I had intended. The whereabouts -of Caxton Hall was unknown to me, and in the -darkness I felt quite at sea as regards direction. -We soon got clear of the police and found ourselves -in a friendly crowd who half hindered, half pushed, -us along. But I was already so incapacitated by -breathlessness I could not lift my chest and head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -I had repeatedly to stop, and, but for the kindly -assistance of my companion and an unknown man -and woman of the crowd, I should have been unable -to get any further. The main body of the Deputation -had made for the strangers’ entrance of the -House of Commons, near the House of Lords. I saw -none of them again until we met in the police station. -In Parliament Square we soon became entangled in -a thick crowd, some of them friendly, as many not, -the great bulk curiosity-mongers. Miss Gye and I -were, of course, recognisable as members of the -Deputation by our sashes, and though at first whenever -the police or the crowd pushed us apart she -managed to return to me, we eventually got completely -separated and lost sight of each other. My -two stranger friends in the crowd, however, not being -marked by badges were always returning to my help. -The occasion most literally turned out to be one for -“deeds, not words.” Being doubled up for want of -breath, I could scarcely see where I was going, but -my instinct led me to avoid the police in every way -that I could. They were placed about in twos and -threes in no apparent special formation, but now and -then one came to a whole line of them, standing -shoulder to shoulder. I was during most of the time -physically incapable of speech. I only twice was -able to express myself in words, on both occasions -when I was lifted off my feet and relieved of the toil -of dragging my own body. First when the crowd -wedged me up against a policeman, I said to him: -“I know you are only doing your duty and I am -doing mine.” His only answer was to seize me with -both his hands round the ribs, squeeze the remaining<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -breath out of my body and, lifting me completely -into the air, throw me with all his strength. Thanks -to the crowd I did not reach the ground; several -of my companions in more isolated parts of the -square were thrown repeatedly on to the pavement. -Another time a policeman turned me round and, -holding my arms behind me, drove me ahead of him -for several yards at a great pace. So that his -violence would not land me on to my face I exerted -what pressure I could to steady my feet. No doubt -this looked very “violent” on my part to some of -the crowd who jeered and booed. I said to them, in -gasps: “You ask women to behave in a womanly -way; do you think this is treating them in a manly -way?” Twice again I was thrown as before -described. I offered no resistance to this whatever, -and being of light weight for my size, I feared that -I was becoming a specially desirable victim for the -experts in this line. Each time I was thrown to a -greater distance and the concussion on reaching the -ground was painful and straining, though in each -case the crowd acted for me as sort of buffers. -When seized for the throw there is also a feeling of -wrenching throughout the body. But I gained in -the direction of the House nevertheless, always -assisted by the crowd. The stranger woman in -particular, a German lady who was tall, well-built, -and of considerable strength, had managed to keep -near me. Three times, after each of the “throws,” -she came to my help and warded off the crowd while -I leant up against some railings, or against her -shoulder to recover my breath. Several times I said -to her, “I can’t go on; I simply can’t go on.” She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -answered, “Wait for a little, you will be all right -presently.” At the time and ever since I have felt -most inexpressibly grateful to this stranger friend.</p> - -<p>I was goaded on most of all, perhaps, by the fear -that I should be taken off by an ambulance—I heard -that some were about—and, if so, that all I had -achieved so far would have to be faced again, -probably with renewed difficulty. Flashes of vivid -light and the sound of a slight muffled explosion -came about from time to time. I did not know what -these were, they added to the sense of incomprehensibleness -and general confusion. It was only -towards the end of the day I realised that they were -the newspaper photographers’ flashlights. The irony -of their attentions seemed great.</p> - -<p>It was cheering to find that in spite of everything -I had gained ground and was quite near to the House. -The police were now far less numerous, standing only -in small groups of twos and threes. Several of these -to my surprise let me pass quite close by them -unmolested. The prospect of actually entering the -House seemed now not unattainable. My utterly -dishevelled condition, my inability for want of -breath to stand upright or to string more than two -words together at a time, should have enhanced the -nightmare of possibly being admitted to the presence -of the Prime Minister. But strange to say that fear -had left me. The instinct for achievement engendered -by the rebuffs of the police, the indignation -aroused by the fact that such treatment of a deputation -of voteless citizens had been deliberately -ordered and sanctioned by the Government, had -for the moment cured all fears as to my personal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -inadequacy as a spokesman. I found myself at the -gates of the members’ entrance. No crowd was near -and only two policemen stood, ordinary wise, at -either side of the gate. They did not seem to be -noticing me. I straightened my back to assume as -much of a normal appearance as possible. I passed -through the gate. At this the policeman nearest to -me turned and seized my arm. Expecting to be -thrown as before, I tried to hold my ground and said, -“Please let me pass,” or words to that effect. -Another policeman promptly took me by the other -arm and I was led off at a great pace. The effort to -try and realise what was happening seemed to use up -the last remnant of physical power at my disposal. -I supposed I was being led away, as I had been -warned was sometimes done as a means of disheartening -the women, to some distant and lonely -street. But there was nothing of roughness or -insult in the attitude of the police who held me. I -thought perhaps I had fainted or fallen without -knowing it and that they were ambulance men. I -felt unable to cope with the problem, my eyes shut -and my head fell forward. We seemed to be going -a long way. “How shall I ever get back from -here,” I wondered. Presently there was an alteration -in the sounds of our footsteps and in the -gestures of the men. I opened my eyes and looked -up. Close in front of me, over a doorway, was a blue -lamp with the words “Police Station” printed upon -it. I knew then that I had been arrested. The -discovery was positively life-giving. To think that -it was over, that the struggle would not have to -begin all over again! I was able to lift my head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -and walk fairly easily; the crushing sense of failure -was gone. When anticipating events, and trying to -prepare myself for the various stages of the ordeal -before me, I had supposed that one of the worst -moments would be this of being actually “had up,” -when I should find myself in the police station and -know the first step towards prison had been taken; -that there could be no going back. When it came -to actual experience, Cannon Row police station had -all the attractions of a harbour after a storm. From -the moment I set foot inside this domain of the -police nothing could exceed their courtesy and even -sympathy. In a large, nondescript kind of waiting -room I was taken up to a table at which a policeman -sat making entries in a ledger. I was asked my -name, address, age, vocation, etc. I wondered -whether I was the only one that had been arrested, -but presently two more of the Deputation came in. -The delight at seeing again some of my companions -was very great; it was only then I fully realised how -the isolation from the others had added to the toil -and gruesomeness of the struggle in Parliament -Square. We were taken up to a large sort of club -room, in which there were billiard tables. Several -of the Deputation were already there. We were -eager, of course, to hear each other’s experiences. I -quickly realised that I had had an unusually good -time of it. Several of them had been thrown on to -the ground, some kicked, one had had her thumb -dislocated, another had a sprained ankle. One had -her face streaming with blood from a blow on the -nose. Before long Mrs. Pethick Lawrence joined us. -It was a curious sensation on seeing her, of mingled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -delight that she was with us again, and indignation -that a woman such as she is should have been -arrested. The word quickly went round that we -were to conceal as best we might our various -injuries. It was no part of our policy to get the -police into trouble. Except where they were given -definite orders to the contrary, they did their best -for us, and whenever they themselves controlled the -situation their good will towards us was most marked. -I remember that the most difficult thing to disguise -was the wounded nose of Miss Dugdale, when a -policeman came up to inquire whether any were -hurt or if a doctor were wanted for us.</p> - -<p>It was here, at Cannon Row, that I first tasted the -delights of that full, unfetterd companionship which -is among the greatest immediate rewards of those -who work actively in this cause. No drudgery of -preliminary acquaintanceship has to be got through, -no misdoubting inquiries as to kindred temperaments -or interests. The sense of unity and mutual -confidence is complete and begins from the first -unhesitatingly. It was most noticeable, as it had -been to me before when a mere looker-on, that this -unity, so far from tending to produce uniformity of -type, had the very opposite effect, it enhanced -individuality. One felt like so many different bolts -and cranks and wheels of a machine, each bringing a -different quality to serve a different purpose for the -smooth working of the whole. For the first time in -my life I felt of some use; since we all were so -different from each other, it seemed we could each -contribute something to the general solidarity of -experience, of opinion, of conduct.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> - -<p>The throwing about had brought on an aggressive -cough which at first checked my ardour to brisk up -with my companions. I found refuge in a distant -bow window where there was a seat, and where I -managed to allay the worst of my cough. Presently -a wardress appeared. I asked her if we might have -a glass of water for myself and one other woman -who had a badly hurt ankle. She was most kind -and quickly brought several glasses. I wrote a -letter to my mother, reassuring her as to our having -got through all right, assuming that some account of -the way the women had been treated would appear -in the press the next morning, and knowing how -great would be her anxiety in consequence. As I -recovered from the excessive spasms of the cough, I -was able to talk to some of my companions. I felt, -for about the fiftieth time since I had come in touch -with the W.S.P.U., ashamed of myself in their -presence. They were drawn from many different -grades of society. Several were women of considerable -intellectual gifts, a good many were from -the leisured class, some belonged to the working -class. Most of them could look back on lives of -much more useful service to the community than I -could boast, many had made sacrifices greater than -my own to join the Deputation, several were running -much graver risk, physically, in facing the hardship -of prison than I incurred. Some had to face a -situation in their homes more distressing even than -my own. My little share of difficulty and sacrifice, -of risk and dread, which had completely filled my -horizon for so many weeks, seemed insignificant -enough now. Time passed very slowly, but rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -from intensity of interest, acuteness of minute -observation, than from boredom. We were to be -detained until the House of Commons rose. At -last at about eleven the light in the Clock Tower -went out and our good friend, Mr. Pethick Lawrence, -appeared and bailed us out for the night. One by -one we again passed before a seated head constable -and his book, and were handed an official paper -requiring us to appear at Bow Street the next -morning.</p> - -<p>I had made no arrangements as to where I should -spend the night, my chief concern having been to -keep secret my share in the day’s proceedings till -they were over. I felt stunned and cold as ice. I -was in a sense, of course, satisfied and glad that, at -least, I had shared what the other women had -endured, but for the first time during that day it -had come before me forcibly that, not only the -Government, but the general public too were to a -great extent responsible for the official treatment -of the Deputation. I shuddered when I remembered -the crowd of curiosity mongers, most of them -“respectable” looking people who had treated the -whole thing as a kind of cock-fight, and who took -sides with the baiters or the baited, according to -their apparent likeliness of victory. It was revolting, -the kind of thing I could not have believed of a -London crowd unless I had myself witnessed it. It -made me feel ashamed to the marrow of my bones.<a name="Anchor_4" id="Anchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 4.">[4]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h3 title="">Footnote:</h3> - -<ul> -<li><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4"></a><a href="#Anchor_4" class="fnlabel">[4]</a> I met a lady, Winifred, Lady Arran, in July, 1911, -who told me that she had been in Parliament Square and -had seen our Deputation. She saw and recognised me. “But,” -she said, “you seemed not to realise that all the men in -the crowd were for you.” -</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> - -<p>I took a four-wheeler and made for my youngest -sister’s house in Bloomsbury Square. On the way, -by as it seemed a strange coincidence, I passed my -eldest sister, who was just emerging from a theatre -with a friend. I stopped and spoke to her. She -apparently did not notice my dishevelled condition -or suspect that I had been with the Deputation. -She told me that she too was staying in Bloomsbury -Square. Arrived there, I found my hostess in bed. -I asked her if she could put me up. “You’ve -been with the Deputation?” she asked. “Yes.” -“You’ve not been arrested yourself?” “Yes.” -Her look of mingled sympathy and satisfaction was -life-giving, I shall never forget it. Both my sisters -were immensely kind and helpful. The house was -full and I shared a bed with my eldest sister. All -night she kept her strong arm round my heart and -steadied my throbbing body which, owing to the -attentions of the police, continued to shake all night. -Several times in the night my sister said with great -distress, “Oh! Con, you are not fit to go to prison;” -but she of course, was thinking only of the physical -side of things. We were able to discuss what best -could be done to comfort Mother. Neither of my -sisters ever tried to persuade me to take advantage -of any possible way out from imprisonment if it -should be offered at the trial. They knew my -decision could only have been taken after deep -and prolonged consideration and for reasons good -enough in my estimation to outweigh all those -against.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="IV" title="CHAPTER IV. POLICE COURT TRIAL">CHAPTER <abbr title="4">IV</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">POLICE COURT TRIAL</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the morning we telephoned to mother, supposing -she would have received my letter, telling her of -the trial at Bow Street that morning, but begging her -not to come up for it unless she specially wished to -do so. This telephone message was, unfortunately, -the first news that reached her of my arrest, and was -a great shock to her. She could not have caught a -train that would have brought her in time to Bow -Street; my eldest sister, Betty Balfour, and my eldest -brother, Vic, went down to her later in the day. I -felt happier than I had done for a long time. I knew -that the first news would be the worst to her, that -had now reached her, all else would seem unimportant -in comparison; the most difficult, most dreaded part -of my job was over. I felt less ill in health than the -day before, only played out. My one anxiety was -lest I should break down physically and be dismissed -from the prison at once “on medical grounds.” -The wish to avoid this contingency was about as -stimulating a tonic as could be desired. It had -exactly the same happy effect upon me as some -people seem to derive from a glass of brandy.</p> - -<p>My sister, Betty Balfour, drove with me in a -hansom to Bow Street. A considerable crowd was -waiting outside the police station; we elbowed our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -way through them with great difficulty and only by -the help of the police, to whom we appealed to ease -matters “for one of the accused.” I felt dazed with -the press of people. Before long I found myself in a -sort of loose-box guard-room, or wide passage, where -all my fellow criminals and many of their friends -were assembled. Many of my personal friends were -there and most heart-gladdeningly kind to me. I -had concocted a short speech, explaining the reasons -of my action. I was told it was not very likely that -the magistrate would allow me to deliver it; my -friends kindly helped me to condense it as much as -possible. It consisted of about four short paragraphs, -sentences bearing on the reasonableness, -justice and urgency of our demand. I remember -nothing of it but these words: “I have been more -proud to stand by my friends in their trouble than I -have ever been of anything in my life before.”</p> - -<p>Presently there was a roll call and we were all told -off to the various policemen who had taken us -prisoners. I had been so exhausted at the moment -of my capture the night before that I had not realised -what sort of a human being underlay the helmet and -uniform responsible for my arrest. In the morning -I saw that he was a particularly pleasant-spoken and -obliging man, who seemed to understand all about -it from our point of view. He explained what I had -to do. We were first congregated in a sort of waiting-room -with a wooden bench round the wall, and then, -as our time drew near, we were called out into a -narrow passage where the particular policemen who -were charging us stood facing us against the opposite -wall. It looked as if we were <i>vis à vis</i> partners waiting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -for a country dance to strike up. We went into -the court as our names were called. I was thankful -that I knew a little of the hang of the business from -having been present at the trial of Mrs. Pankhurst, -Christabel Pankhurst and Mrs. Drummond. It is -the absolutely unknown element in these kinds of -ceremonies that adds considerably to their fearfulness. -My name came rather early on the list. I -was thankful that at least this time I had not to go -into the awe-inspiring witness-box. Sir Albert de -Rützen was the magistrate; he seemed old for -the work. His manner throughout was querulous -rather than dignified. The feeling of publicity and -exposure struck me as completely odious; I was -extremely nervous and rather dazed. I remember -thinking, “If I feel like this, what must it be for the -ordinary prisoners, whether guilty or not, who, day -after day, file into this court?” I had a vague -sense that friends were present amongst the crowd -at the back of the court, but the mechanism of the -official proceedings and the individuals who worked -it seemed all at enmity with us—all, that is, except -my partner the policeman. His look, manner and -voice were so friendly that the set phrases in which -he told of my conduct in Parliament Square and -consequent arrest had a strangely incongruous and -unreal ring about them. Not that he accused me of -anything very terrible. He reported that I had -pushed past him exclaiming, “I must see Mr. -Asquith, I must get to Mr. Asquith.” I had never -said anything of the kind, but no doubt, in the -policeman’s estimation, this was a remark in keeping -with my actions, and he thought it most probable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -that I had said words to that effect. I did not comment -on the charge. It seemed all to be known and -settled beforehand, and the processes which had to -be got through seemed more or less farcical and -unreal. When allowed to speak, I managed hastily -to blurt out some of my speech, but I felt that -nobody listened.</p> - -<p>The sentence was one month, with the alternative -of being bound over to “keep the peace.” I was -immensely relieved that there was no fine. At the -same time the length of the sentence was a surprise -and somewhat of a shock, although I had prepared -myself for it. It seemed hardly believable that what -I had done was really considered worthy of four -weeks in prison. I must, nevertheless, have heard, -though the fact did not penetrate into my mind, that -Miss Joachim and several others had, less than a -year ago, been given three months for this crime of -going on a deputation—they, like myself, were first -offenders.</p> - -<p>On leaving the court we were taken downstairs to -the cells. Four or five of us were put together. I -was in one with Miss Daisy Solomon, Miss Elsa Gye, -my guide and friend of the day before, Miss Dugdale -and a sympathetic young girl unknown to me. -These cells are narrow compartments, unfurnished, -except for a wide wooden bench running the entire -length of one wall and terminating in a lavatory -seat. This was unconcealed and without any -means of drawing water from within the cell. It -was periodically flushed with water by a pulley -communicating with all the cells from outside. The -door had a small grating of iron bars, through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -which one could look and speak to people outside. -Many of our friends came by in the passage and -spoke to us through this grille. They also brought -us some sandwiches and fruit—very acceptable. -This was the worst moment for the friends, and -several mothers who came to say goodbye to their -daughters must have left feeling very miserable. -I felt thankful that my mother was not there. For -me, it seemed the best moment for many a long day. -My part was over, so far as initiative and activities -were concerned, the rest required only enduring, -always a much easier job to my lazy temperament. -My sisters and youngest brother came to bid me -goodbye. Some other friends came and said -“Well done,” or words of that kind. Christabel -Pankhurst came. She said “Thank you,” and -seemed grateful for my share in the day’s work. -This was a most unlooked-for honour and joy, -from that moment I felt a very privileged and -happy person. The sound of her voice and the -look in her eyes remained stamped upon my mind, -and played the part of a sort of talisman of consolation -whenever the trials of my imprisonment -weighed upon my spirits.</p> - -<p>As for the physical hardships of prison, these had -been the first items to be measured and prepared -for when deciding to go on the Deputation; of all -the anticipatory difficulties they had been the least, -and it was a comfort to think that now, before long, -one would know the worst in this respect. I felt -considerably exhausted still from the battering -about the day before, and I had a craving to be -alone. Unlimited hours of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>“solitary confinement” -were the most desirable paradise I could vision to -myself.</p> - -<p>It was a time of longer waiting than I had ever -thought a single day could contain. Already one -began to taste that peculiar feature, most markedly -characteristic of the whole of prison life, that of -being in ignorance of what is going on outside your -cell, of why you are being kept there, and of what -will happen to you when the keys jangle, bolts -rattle, the door is thrown open and you are ordered -out. We passed the time recommending to each -other various dodges of how to keep in touch while -in prison. Knocks on the cell walls with a brush or -boot, and at the hour when the wardresses went to -meals it was said to be possible to communicate by -speaking on the hot water pipe, which runs through -all the cells, at the point where it touches the wall. -We were to maintain the right to talk to each other -at associated labour. Mrs. Pankhurst had obtained -the right to speak to her daughter when they were -in prison together. Otherwise the silence rule, at -all other times we were told, was very rigidly -enforced. I showed my companions some leg and -arm exercises which I urged them to do, so as to -counteract the want of exercise and general stagnation -of life which makes so many people ill in prison. -We had great fun over this. We were all able to -send messages and little scraps of letters to our -relations. I was distressed that the stranger girl -seemed to have no friends, and no one came to the -grille to ask for her. It spoilt the pleasure of our -visitors. She seemed of a very retiring and unassertive -nature, and I did not like to make inquiries<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -as to how we could help her communicate with her -friends for fear that she had none. Happily, just -before the passage was cleared of all visitors, three -kind-looking women came to the window and she -sprang up. They were her friends.</p> - -<p>The courtesy of the police continued, and -Christabel Pankhurst and a few others were allowed -to remain talking to us for some time after the -general public had been sent out of the passage -communicating with the cells.</p> - -<p>Knowing that we had yet a long day before us, we -in turns took advantage of the lavatory end of the -cell, the others mounting guard in a group round -the grating to ensure privacy. This was my first -experience of the publicity attending this process -throughout prison life. It is, without doubt, one of -the greatest trials to the better-educated prisoner; -my sympathy went out especially to the younger -members of our Deputation and to all young -prisoners.</p> - -<p>At about 2.30 there came a jangling of keys, -rattling of bolts, and the cell doors were thrown -open. We came out and lined up in the passage -outside, and our names were called out in the order -of our arrest. There were again some delays and -waiting in different passages. One seemed to be -dealt with much like goods at a custom house, -certain facts about one being recurringly inquired -after, investigated, noted in a book, and the goods -then passed on for the same process to take place -elsewhere. Eventually we filed out into a courtyard -where the prison van, “Black Maria,” as the hull of -a great dead ship, awaited her cargo. The grim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -appearance of that celebrated vehicle had always -been a signal to me, when passing it in the street, for -having to repress an instinct to follow it, an awed -reverence for the distressful plight of those inside it, -an almost maddening craving to know what had been -the cause of their law-breaking, the nature of their -crimes, how far their present degradation could -morally uplift them, what was happening to their -human belongings, what would happen to themselves -when they were once more free, whether -indignation, revolt, dull indifference, remorse, or the -harrowingly abject penitence so frequent in suffering -beings was uppermost in their minds. Now I -myself was one of the criminals. I should know the -sensations from actual experience, literally from -within. Of course I in no sense regarded myself as -a criminal, and was aware of a detached spectator’s -commentary running through my mind all the while. -It suddenly struck me, perhaps, after all, this is a -sensation common to many criminals. A good -number of them no doubt either know they have not, -or think they have not, committed the offence for -which they are condemned. Many, while admitting -their acts, probably have a moral standard with regard -to them quite different from that which controls -the law. Others, perhaps, like myself, think their -acts were entirely justified and right; some, again, -would feel consciously and aggressively at war with -all recognised standards.</p> - -<p>I had several times seen men arrested and male -prisoners in the streets, travelling, outside prisons -and police courts, but I had never seen any women -prisoners. Suddenly the picture of them and of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -women’s crimes came into my mind with a rush. -Who were the women who, day by day, trod the very -stones on which my feet now stood, whose eyes -would look up, a few minutes after mine, to the -terrifying form of Black Maria? How and why had -they broken the law, in what way were they enemies -of Society? The impress of their feet seemed to be -one with mine, and up from that criminals’ pavement -their mind seemed to get into my own. Child-burdened -women who were left without money, -without the means or opportunity or physical power -to earn it, who had stolen in order to save their lives -and that of their children,—thieves! Women who -from their childhood had been trained to physical -shame, women who at their first adolescence had -borne children by their own fathers under circumstances -when resistance was inconceivable. Women -who had been seduced by their employers. Women -deceived and deserted by their friends and lovers. -Women employed by their own parents for wage-earning -prostitution. Women reduced to cruelty -after being for years the unconsulted churning mills -for producing in degradation and want and physical -suffering the incessant annual babies of an undesired -family. Women who had been stolen in their bloom -and imprisoned for purposes of immoral gain. If -amongst such women, such criminals, there are -many who are professionally thieves, prostitutes -“by choice,” immoral “past redemption” as it is -called, sodden with drink, undermined by drug -taking, their maternity transformed into cruelty, -their brains worn to madness, what cause is there -for surprise or reproach, and what hope is there of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -cure by imprisonment? Before they took to these -muddy lanes have they not been driven out from the -fair road? What was their training, what their -choice from the start? Are not the doors of the -professions and many trades still barred to them? -Their right to work, a fair value for their work, is -it not denied to them? When they undertake the -burdensome but joyous labour of maternity, is there -any security to them of physical respect and choice, -of economic security, of rewardful honour and social -influence? Where is the recognition of the woman’s -great service, how is she helped to render it suitably -and efficiently; does the State, the race, the -family, the individual, see to it that she has her -reward?</p> - -<p>I moved forward after the others. Black Maria -looked like a sort of hearse with elephantiasis—warranted -to carry many coffins concealed in her -body and to bear them to as many graves. She -fairly set one shuddering. To get inside her seemed -a sort of living death, certainly, most literally, entry -into another world. For a moment I hesitated and -thought, “Suppose I refuse to get in?” The mere -notion called up the forces arrayed against one and -made me realise my utter helplessness. The gates, -the bolts, locks and chains, the cells we had just left, -the court and magistrate, the high walls all around, -the enormous policemen on every hand. The one -who stood at the open door of the van said, “Come -along, please.” His words were civil enough and -linked one back to the normal outer world, but his -voice and beckoning gesture were authoritative and -the sense of physical power seemed to wedge one in.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -It was clear that henceforth all one’s actions would -be initiated and carried out without choice, solely -by necessity of obedience.</p> - -<p>The policeman who had special charge of us for -the journey was a man of jovial disposition, and he -cracked witticisms as he played his ’bus-conductor’s -part. We readily responded to his mood. An -antidote was needed to the grimness of the proceedings, -but the merriment was by no means all -forced. As soon as I laid aside the remembrance of -the real prisoners and limited the outlook to that of -our own immediate experience, the comic element -was rampant and seemed to dig one in the ribs, -making me laugh with heartiness. We were all, it -seemed, playing some ludicrous, babyish game, -unsuited to our years, but all the more absurd for -that. The ’bus-conductor-policeman got inside; -we followed him one by one into the narrow central -gangway that forms the spinal marrow of Black -Maria. On either side are tiny separate cells, like -the compartments of a cupboard, the doors of which -when opened completely obstruct the passage so -that only one prisoner at a time can be admitted or -released. On first getting in it seems quite dark, -and the sensation of being rapidly pushed into a -very small hole, squeezed back, the door shut and -locked to the accompanying sound of banging and -much jangling and turning of keys, is extremely -disagreeable. The cell contains a seat and is -ventilated by a grating in the door, by groups of -small holes on either side, in the floor at one’s feet, -and by a wire-netted ventilator running under the -roof of the van, as in a ’bus. The cell was so small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -that my legs, which are long, had to be tucked up -almost under my chin; I could imagine that in hot -weather the want of air would be oppressive, but -though the sense of being so closely confined was -disagreeable, the draughts from the ventilators -seemed to play upon one almost excessively and I -felt very cold. When the cells were all filled the -passage was duly packed with prisoners, standing -one against the other like tinned sardines. As the -van was not high enough to admit of standing -upright, this must have been a most tiring position. -Presently there was a final shutting and locking of -the outer door, in which was a small grating window, -as we know it from the outside. Then followed a -rumbling jerk and Black Maria’s great overcharged -body began her long, jolting drive to Holloway. -The sensation reminded me of a bathing machine -when it sets out for the sea, but the noise and -jolting and darkness were all greater in degree. -We tried to communicate with each other, to find -out who was in which cell and who was standing in -the passage. We started singing the Women’s -Marseillaise and other of our songs. Those in the -passage managed to put a scarf with our colours -through the ventilator under the coachman’s seat, -others passed a scarf through the grating window -of the door at the opposite end. These feats -were, of course, communicated to the whole Maria-full -of us, and the news that the police were -allowing the scarves to remain was greeted with -much cheering. Possibly, the driver was unconscious -of his magnanimous action, since the scarf -end, I expect, flowed out somewhere near his feet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -The colours every now and then were seen and -loudly cheered by friends in the street. This woke -in me an appreciation of the colours and understanding -of their meaning in a way I had not -grasped before. There is so little need for symbolism -in these days of print, newspapers, advertisements, -etc., but our movement has had to combat -all the conditions of an era of darkness, ignorance, -and barbaric repression. When newspapers will not -accept, publishers will not print, and booksellers -will not sell the true facts concerning us, then a -rapid means of irrepressible communication had to -be sought through the symbolism of colours, purple, -white and green—justice, purity, hope. Wherever -you see them you know we are there, and you know -our meaning.</p> - -<p>I joined in the songs for as long as I could and -in the counter-cheering whenever we had a cheer -from the streets, but I soon withdrew into the -luxury of my solitude. I was exhilarated and -happy in mind, but my physical exhaustion was -considerable. The physical tax of the Deputation -and the nervous tax of the trial proceedings had -strained my powers to their uttermost. At last I -was alone with myself. The sense of release from -the necessity of keeping up appearances, of having -to put on a good front, was great. I wondered how -often the occupants of my cell in that black hive -must have felt the same after the anguish, suspense, -complication of fears, connected with their trial. I -noticed that if for a moment I entertained the idea -of initiative, action, the wish to touch normal -existence, to be and behave like an ordinary being,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -then the sense of subjection, of being buried alive -was all but insufferable and might quickly drive one -to the verge of insanity. But the physical exhaustion -which leads to the craving for inanition, for -solitude and privacy, turned that locked-up slice of -the van into a welcome sanctuary.</p> - -<p>After a long drive, for seemingly the better part -of an hour, the sounds changed and Black Maria -quivered over a courtyard pavement, filling us with -expectations of arrival. The jolting and noise -ceased, the doors were unlocked, one by one as we -had been packed in we emerged again and were -quickly ushered into Holloway Prison, through -what seemed a back door in a yard surrounded by -high walls. It made no particular impression upon -me. It might have been another police court, less -dingy and more clean.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="V" title="CHAPTER V. HOLLOWAY PRISON: MY FIRST IMPRISONMENT">CHAPTER <abbr title="5">V</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">HOLLOWAY PRISON</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> we arrived at the prison we formed up along -a passage in the order of our arrest. We were taken -in charge by two or three wardresses who, without a -word or sign of greeting, went through the routine -of taking our names, ages, sentences, etc. Then we -were removed into waiting cells, three or four of us -to each one. I found myself, to my joy, in a cell -with our leader, Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, Miss Leslie -Lawless and Mrs. Fahey, daughter of the great -sculptor Gilbert. Strength came back into my bones -with delight at being with Mrs. Lawrence. She -having been in the prison before gave us various -directions and advice. The cell was small and old, -the walls and ceiling were dirty, the window of -grained glass looked extremely dingy; but Mrs. -Lawrence said that in all probability we should -eventually be put into new and very clean cells. -There was only one stool. Mrs. Lawrence had to -sacrifice herself and sit on it, as we none of us would -do so in her presence. We ranged ourselves at her -feet on the floor, some of us leaning back against the -wall. I was very happy to meet Mrs. Fahey, her -father and mine had known one another; everything -about her had the indication that she was a -good woman and probably would become a great one.</p> - -<p>I remember vaguely that conversation turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -on to personal yarns as to how we had severally -fared during the Deputation, what had first brought -us into the movement, the experiences of ex-prisoners. -We were to try and claim associated -labour and the right to speak to each other at that -time. All other rules so far as we could grasp them -were to be rigidly observed. If anything in the -prison routine seemed to us unjust we were to petition -the Home Secretary about it, or ask for an interview -with the Governor. If we were ill or felt that any -part of the prison life was being seriously injurious -to our health, we were to ask to see the doctor. But -my recollection of the two or three hours spent in -this cell are vague and shadowy. I was at the end -of my tether, and the craving to be alone overtopped -everything else. Soon after we were inside a light -was lit from without, and I noticed for the first time -a curious aperture in the thick wall to the left of the -door. A piece of grained glass near to the passage -side of this hole, shielded the light which was lit -from outside. The cell was thus lit up with rays as -from a bull’s eye lantern. These details interested -me very much. I was fascinated in a grim sort of -way by the “eye” in the door of which I had heard -so much. An oval wedge-shaped indentation in the -thick nail-studded door, at about the height of one’s -head, was finished off in the centre by a small -circular bit of glass about the size of a large eye-glass. -On the passage side of the door this was -overlaid with a bit of wood which could be turned -aside like the flap over a key-hole, for the warders -and others to take a look at the prisoner, unobserved, -whenever they chose.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> - -<p>Presently there was a rattling of keys, the lock -turned with what seemed a thundering sound and -the door burst open. I thought it must be some -remarkable and unexpected event that had caused -so much hurry and noise, a fire perhaps had broken -out, but this was my first introduction to the prison -door drill; the thunder and rattle and haste I was -soon to learn were the invariable accompaniments of -being visited for no matter what cause. The door -was opened only a very little way. No face was to -be seen, but a hand thrust in four tins of food and -loaves of bread on to a little shelf in the corner of the -cell nearest to the door. This was our supper—the -last meal before the night. The little brown loaves -looked appetising, and we were hungry. The kind -of breakfast one eats before one’s first “trial” is -nothing sumptuous, and the sandwiches brought in -by our friends made an excellent but not too substantial -lunch. The slice of cold pressed meat lying -at the bottom of a dirty-looking tin was not attractive, -and the cocoa in a can of the same metal was -positively repellent. We most of us ate some bread, -one was bold enough to try the cocoa, no one sampled -the meat. I thought I would keep my loaf as a -sleeping draught for whenever bedtime came to -this seemingly endless day.</p> - -<p>Some time after supper had been let in upon us, -the door was again opened and “Lytton” was -summoned to an unknown presence. I was conducted -to a room where a lady in a bonnet stood -waiting to receive me. She was the Matron. She -told me in a civil and considerate manner that she -had a letter for me from my mother which she had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -been allowed to give to me. I wondered if my mother -were ill or inordinately distressed at my sentence. -I had a great longing to take the letter, but I had -prepared myself for special privileges being extended -to me and I was determined not to profit by anything -of the sort unless I could also secure it for my -companions. I asked: “Is it not against prison -rules that I should have the letter?” She looked -surprised, but promptly answered, “We make the -rules as the occasion calls for, and you have been -allowed to receive this letter.” “Will the other -Suffrage prisoners also be allowed to receive letters?” -She hesitated, but eventually said decisively, “No.” -“Then I am afraid I can’t have this letter either.” -In spite of my effort to conceal it, I think she saw or -guessed my great desire to have the letter, for the -look in her eyes became very kind and she pleaded -with me to take the letter. I shook my head. Then -she told me it was within the ordinary rules that she -should read the letter to me. I hesitated for a -moment; there might be something sacredly private -in the letter and it seemed such desecration that -strangers should know what my mother felt. Then I -glanced at the envelope and realised that it had been -officially opened and probably read already. So I -agreed. The letter had been written under the -agitation of the news about me and was not easily -legible in places, so that the matron, although she did -her best, could not decipher some passages, and the -tension of deferred anxiety as to its contents made -my mind and hearing dull from overstrain. As a -result, I received the impression that my mother was -more angry with me than was actually the case.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -She did not speak of being ill or broken down herself, -and I felt I could bear everything but that; but the -imagined degree of her disapproval shadowed the -whole of my imprisonment without cause. However, -when I was handed the letter on my release and -read it for myself, I found in it so much more -sympathy than I expected that the rebound of joy -made up for everything. My mother had sent it by -her maid to London, telling her to deliver it into the -hands of the Governor with a covering letter to him -asking him kindly to give it to me. She had thought -out all this most considerately so that at least I -might be reassured about herself, and be spared any -unnecessary anxiety. The maid, on arriving at Holloway -Prison, had sent my mother’s card up to the -Governor as a passport to his presence and asking if -she, the maid, might see him. He understood it to -mean that mother herself was there, and he came -rushing down the stairs in hot haste to greet her! -Poor man, how relieved he must have been to find it -was only her maid!</p> - -<p>After the Matron had finished reading the letter I, -for the moment, forgot all wish to restrict my privileges -into line with those of other Suffragettes. I -asked, “Can I write an answer to this letter?” -“No.” “Nor send a message?” The Matron -shook her head. On returning to my companions in -the waiting cell I told them what had taken place. -My mind was filled with thoughts of my mother and -I remember no details until the door was again -thrown open and a wardress told us to line up in the -passage, preparatory to inspection by the medical -officer. It was good to see the rest of the Deputation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -once more. We were told to open our dresses and -underclothes at the neck so that our chests might be -examined. There was some further waiting, during -which time I was able to take note of the wardresses, -several of whom were waiting about and superintending -us while others came and went. They were -fine-looking women, young and vigorous, most of -them had good figures and all of them had beautifully-kept -hair which gave me a deal of pleasure to -look at. They wore uniforms more or less in the -style of hospital nurses. Most of them wore dresses -of dark blue cloth with nurse-like, small black -bonnets and strings. Some had holland dresses -with aprons, and black velvet bows on their heads. -They held themselves very upright, and their general -bearing brought to my mind certain types of the -chaperon’s bench at Court balls.</p> - -<p>I had made up my mind to ask the doctor for a -few medical privileges. I dreaded lest he was -coming round to inspect and question us as we -stood in the passage, or that we should have to go -before some “board” or “committee” of men. -To my relief I found that we were being shown into -a room singly, and when it came to my turn I found -there only one individual, a young man sitting at a -table with a big book in front of him. I stood -beside him and answered his questions with regard -to my age, whether I was married or single, what -illnesses I had had, etc. He then tapped my lungs -and examined my heart with a stethoscope. An -infancy and youth of chronic rheumatism had -affected my heart, and the treatment I had received -as member of the Deputation had taxed it severely.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -Moreover, the news of my mother’s distress, the prison -sounds of keys and bolts, the look of the cells, and -my fears lest the doctor should take alarm at my -flimsy physique and order my dismissal from the -prison, each added considerably to my agitation of -that moment. The doctor’s impassive face and -manner changed to one of concerned inquiry after -testing my heart. He asked many questions, and -seemed with difficulty to believe when I told him -that strict vegetarianism had cured my chronic -rheumatism and that it was six years since I had -anything of an attack. I asked to be allowed -flannel underclothing and vegetarian food. It was -a new and strange experience to be so closely -examined by a doctor and not to learn anything of his -verdict. I longed to ask him “What are you going -to report about me?” but I knew that I could do -nothing if he should answer “Dismiss you,” and I -was anxious to end the interview as soon as possible.</p> - -<p>After the medical examination we were soon -taken off, separately, to the changing room. Here -my trinkets, money, watch, the combs in my hair, -and everything in my pocket were taken from me -and a list made, which I had to sign. I had a -great longing to keep my handkerchiefs. A wardress -sitting at a desk with a large book on it asked a -further string of questions as to age, name, address, -place of birth, previous convictions. As I gave -“Vienna, Austria,” for the place of my birth, my -father having been in the diplomatic service, I -thought how impossible it would have seemed had -some seer foretold, at the time of my birth in -an official residence, that I was destined to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -imprisoned in Holloway as a common criminal. A -description of the prisoner’s personal appearance -was also entered in the book. It was a comic -moment when the wardress looked up with her -head on one side, as any portrait painter might do, -to investigate the colour of one’s hair and eyes. -During all these processes I had a first opportunity -of noticing the manner of the wardresses which so -many Suffragette friends had described to me, but -which had conveyed no clear impression to my -mind. I noticed that there was no inflection in the -voice when speaking to prisoners, nor did the -wardresses look at them when addressing them. -As a prisoner, it was almost impossible to look in the -eyes of my keepers, they seemed to fear that direct -means of communication; it was as if the wardresses -wore a mask, and withdrew as much as possible -all expression of their own personality or recognition -of it in the prisoner. At first, the impression -received was as of something farcical. I remember -that it amused me immensely and absorbed my -attention with a sort of fascinated curiosity. But -this soon went off, and made way for a chilling, -deadening impression. When later on I saw it -applied to the ordinary prisoner, to my companions, -to our leader, Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, it aroused -in me a feeling of indignation and strong resentment.</p> - -<p>One corner of this room was divided off by a -curtain. I was told to go behind it and take off my -clothes. As I removed them one by one I wondered -what would have been my experiences by the time -I should see them again. I was handed a cotton -chemise, woollen stockings and a petticoat. In this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -queer get-up I was taken to be weighed and then -shown to a bath. The bath compartments were -close together in a passage, like stalls in a stable, -each one only just large enough to contain the bath -and a few inches of standing room at one end. -The door was of the cowshed order, about three -feet deep, space above and below, and without a -fastening. As I was ushered into one of these, an -ordinary 3rd Division prisoner handed me a bundle -of clothes and a pair of laced shoes. She had a -charming, sympathetic face, and I never shall -forget the look of deep kindness in her eyes and in -her voice as she whispered to me, “If the shoes are -too small, ask the officer and she’ll let you have a -larger pair.” My tired body, my very soul, seemed -to bask in comfort at her words. I looked and -nodded my thanks to her, afraid to speak, for I had -been warned how we might get the prisoners into -trouble by breaking the silence rule with them.</p> - -<p>“So this is the bath of evil fame,” I thought, -as I put down the bundle of clothes on the floor and -pulled the cowshed door after me. For the most -part, whatever bit of prison life I had heard about as -specially objectionable seemed to me less bad than -I had expected, and being prepared I was forearmed -to put up with it without grumbling. But the much-abused, -dirty bath which had been so often described -by our prisoners, surpassed all expectations. The -paint was blistered and broken to a surface of mottled -unevenness in a way to gather the scum from the -water into a thousand crevices every time the bath -was used. Whatever the original colour of the paint -might have been, it was now of a dull mud colour,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -sufficiently dirty-looking to arouse every sort of -suspicion, but not dark enough to conceal the -marks of the scum most recently added to the -crevices. A large but well-worn scrubbing brush -was the only washing appliance, whether for the -purpose of scrubbing the bath or the bather was not -stated, probably it was used indiscriminately for -both. I had been given a small towel of oatmeal-coloured -coarse linen striped with red, and a piece of -soap wrapped up in a rag of white flannelette. The -water was clean and delightfully hot. I tried to -concentrate my mind on these two great merits and -to raise a sense of present luxury by remembering -that this was the last bath I should be able to indulge -in for a week. The soap had a smell of disinfectant -like dog soap, clean and hygienic enough, no doubt, -but under the circumstances a disagreeable reminder -of its anti-verminous properties. The towel, which -at first sight seemed ludicrously small and inadequate -for the purpose of drying a body so large as mine, -disclosed with use an almost miraculous faculty for -not absorbing moisture. It left one to dry by dint -of friction; my admiration for this towel grew even -greater on closer acquaintance with it. Then came -the moment for the clothes. They certainly looked -a most repellent heap, and it was some time before -I recognised their respective uses, and could decide -in what order to put them on. I was pleased to see -that the flannel garments promised by the doctor -were there. Some of my companions, although -they asked for and received permission for the same -privilege, did not get any flannel clothes until the -second week, and some not through the whole term<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -of their imprisonment. Warmth being my first -consideration I started off with a low-necked flannel -shirt without sleeves. It was patched in many -places, the patches being so coarsely joined that one -could easily trace their pattern from sensation while -wearing it. The flannel was of numerous shades of -yellow and grey, stained in many places, and freely -marked with the broad arrow stamped on in black -ink. The original cut of the shirt had evidently -been nondescript. It was very short, reaching -barely below the hips and low at the neck, and the -patches set in at random had added variety and -counter design in many directions. It looked like -the production of a maniac. For propaganda purposes -it was an absolutely priceless garment and I -determined that, if possible, it should accompany -me out of prison, for the enlightenment of those -critics who are appalled at the leniency of the prison -treatment of Suffragettes. Next I put on a chemise -of unbleached, coarse cotton, striped with red, fairly -high at the neck, but without sleeves. This however, -was long to the knees and from its ample -voluminous width was one of the most warmth-producing -of the garments. A pair of stays made -without bones but exceedingly stiff and straight in -shape. They had no fastenings and had to be laced -up each time; the lace had no metal tag so that it was -a slow process. These stays were so unyielding that -I found it impossible to tie my petticoats around the -sheer precipice of their make, and the very next day -I had the courage to dispense with them. Flannel -drawers, short like footballing “shorts,” ditto of -unbleached cotton. A very short flannel petticoat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -An old-fashioned under-petticoat of coarse, linseed-coloured -material, thickly pleated into a cotton band -at the waist—it stuck out almost like a crinoline. -Then came the dress, skirt of dark green serge, -pleated in same way as the petticoat and tied with -black tape strings, the shirt of same material -fastened by a single button at the neck; this was -the only garment with long sleeves. A blue check -apron which tied in the shirt and gave a very neat -appearance. Finally, a small Dutch cap of starched -white calico, tied under the chin with tapes. These -caps are full of stains, from hairpin rust, etc., when -seen from within, but outwardly they have an -extremely clean and attractive appearance, redeeming -the degraded look of the dress and decidedly -becoming to many of the women. They pleased me -immensely from the first and were a constant joy -to my eyes in all my imprisonments. Two check -dusters were supplied, one as a handkerchief to hang -from the apron string, one to be folded diagonally -and worn round the neck, under the serge shirt. I -always have thought this the most comfortable neck -covering imaginable and the short time it takes to -put on was a daily renewed pleasure compared to -the complicated neck apparatus of more civilised -modern garments with their innumerable hooks and -eyes, pins, brooches, etc. The drawback to this -duster-necktie was that it was identical with the -handkerchief-duster, and, as they were changed -from week to week, there was no means of knowing -whether one’s neckerchief of one week had not been -the nose kerchief of another prisoner on previous -occasions. As the clothes came from the laundry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -with many stains, unironed, unmangled, and looking -in many respects as if they had not been washed, -this detail of the handkerchiefs remained throughout -my time in prison one of the most trying of the -physical and minor disagreeables. All the clothes -were marked with the broad arrow, if light in colour -they were marked with black ink or some kind of -tar-like sticky substance; if the clothes were dark, -as the petticoat and dress, then with whiting. The -stockings were of thick, rough wool, most irritating -to the skin but warm. I never had a pair that were -long enough to cover my knees, and as the drawers -stopped short of the knees in the opposite direction -I had the chance of sampling the knee part of -a Highlander’s dress. I thought it very uncomfortable. -Woollen strips were given for garters; I -thought these practical and hygienic. Last of all I -turned to the shoes. They were immensely heavy -and looked large enough for a giant, they were new -and exceedingly stiff. After a great struggle I -managed to get them on, but they were so uncomfortable -that I remembered the advice of the kind -woman and took them off again. I supposed that -now would be my only chance of asking for another -pair, and, although I never have been able to muster -much courage in facing rebuffs, I had an impression -that I should not grow any bolder as prison life went -on. It is comparatively easy to plead or protest on -behalf of some general principle, but to do so for -personal advantage was a more effortful business, -and yet it seemed foolish to go in for needless discomforts -when a remedy had been almost officially -suggested. I gathered up my soap and towel and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -put my head over the cowshed door to inquire if I -might come out. My eyes fell on a prisoner waiting -in the passage. She was of the 2nd Division, for she -wore a green dress; those of the 3rd Division wear -brown. Her face had a genial expression and broke -into a radiant smile as our eyes met. I thought I -had never seen a more attractive-looking being. In -spite of the subservient humility which the prison -uniform conveys, the look of self-mastery and consequent -dignity was prominently expressed in every -line of her face and of her whole form. I felt drawn -to her by a feeling of mixed curiosity and sympathy -and determined to communicate with her if possible. -It never occurred to me that she was a Suffragette. -She was Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, as the smile in her -eyes betrayed before many moments had passed. -My delight at recognising her was quickly succeeded -by an almost irrepressible wave of indignant feeling -that she should be subjected to these outward -symbols of criminality and shame. However little -they were able to degrade her, the authorities had -sentenced her to wear them with that intent. The -futility and injustice of their action seemed to me at -that moment about on a par with each other.</p> - -<p>A wardress told me I might come out. I picked -up my shoes and went with them in my hand to an -“officer” who seemed to be the most authoritative -person present. I said to her, “I find these shoes -are rather small for me. Could you kindly let me -have a bigger pair?” She seemed not to have -heard what I said, did not look my way, but shouted -past me into the air, speaking in a loud voice, very -rapidly, and without any variety of intonation in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -way that sounded strange and unnatural, as if she -were proclaiming an edict written by another person: -“It’s — no — good — complaining — about — those; -they’re — the — largest — size — in — stock; -you — can’t — have — any — others — so — you’d — -better — make — the — best — of — them.” As -soon as I realised that she was answering me I felt -very curious and interested. “So that is what it -means,” I thought, “being in prison.” It required -no flight of the imagination, no tags of theory, to -understand what the effect of this manner would be -on an ordinary prisoner.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lawrence and I waited together in the -passage. Presently a wardress came up to us with -a paper in her hand and began reading out the -prison rules, which we were told had to be strictly -observed under pain of punishment. There were a -great many dealing with a variety of subjects. She -read very fast like a wooden automaton, as if she -herself were weary of this too frequent job. -Although I had heard of many of the rules before -from previous prisoners, I could with difficulty catch -the drift, and it struck me how little the ordinary -prisoner would be able to glean from this hurried -reading of rules absolutely new to her, framed in -official language often far beyond her comprehension.</p> - -<p>We were then led off through various corridors, -taken out of doors and into another building, weighed -a second time, and taken up a staircase. At the top -we were told to remove our shoes and carry them in -our hands. In the passage there were cells with -locked gates that looked very grim, and locked doors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -behind them. One door opposite the stairs was open -and the gate only closed. This was unlocked for us -and we were ushered into a large high room. A fire -burned brightly at one end and beds were ranged on -either side of the walls. It was evidently a hospital -ward. We were shown to the beds nearest the fire-place, -on either side of it, and told they would be ours. -Mrs. Lawrence came over to me and whispered, -“They have put us in hospital.” The one thing on -which my hopes had centred throughout that seemingly -eternal day was the prospect of being completely -alone at the end of it. Now that was not to -be. For the first time I was taken unawares, had -made no preparation for the contingency; I felt quite -unnerved and could have sobbed like a child. The -fact that I was to remain with Mrs. Lawrence was my -only consolation.</p> - -<p>The ward was large and high, with big windows -of grained glass at either end, opened at the top by -pulleys so that one could not see out, but the -ventilation was perfect. There were grating ventilators -as well as the windows. It was well warmed -by hot pipes running the length of one wall and by a -large coal fire. The furnishings of the fire-place -were both comic and grimly suggestive. A cage of -thick iron bars covered it, from the mantelpiece to -the floor, the cage had a central gate fastened by -a padlock and inside this prison was a poker chained -to the side of the grate, as if it could not be trusted -not to run away and escape through the iron bars -of the cage. I looked round to see how much -of lunacy, or violent criminality, such as were -suggested by these precautions, was represented<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -amongst the present inmates. There were ten beds -in all, but only four or five occupants; most of -them were already in bed—one looked extremely -ill. A wardress, like a nurse, in a holland gown, -came in accompanied by a 3rd Division prisoner -carrying a wicker tray fitted with bottles containing -drugs—the “poison-basket” I called it; -it returned regularly twice a day. A dark-looking -mixture was poured into a little cup and handed to -me. I explained that I never took drugs and begged -to be excused. “You’ve got to swallow that to-night—those -are my orders, there’s no choice about it. You -can ask the medical officer about it to-morrow.” I -supposed that responsibility for my refusal would -fall upon the wardress, so I drank it down.</p> - -<p>We were given slippers to replace the coarse -nailed shoes which were not allowed to be worn in -hospital on account of the polished wooden floor. -The slippers were of yellow leather, blackened by -much use. They were extremely dirty, both outside -and in, and I made up my mind never to wear them -without the protection of a stocking. Mine were -not a pair, each one had an independence of size -and shape which seemed to endow them with almost -human personality; but they were comfortable, -and I grew strangely fond of them before the end -of my time. Our beds were already made; we -were each brought a night-gown of coarse, unbleached -calico striped with an occasional red line -and marked at intervals with the broad arrow in -tar-like ink; it had long sleeves. We were also -provided with a short, grey flannel dressing-gown -and a small tooth-brush. We were told to undress<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -and to tie up our day clothes in our aprons, all but -the caps; these being both white and starched -were treated with the utmost reverence. I discovered -that this arrangement was most detrimental -to the appearance of the apron the next day. -Some prison rules, however trivial and apparently -unimportant, are rigidly enforced, others after the -first instructions are never referred to again. This -was one of those, luckily, for an appearance of -neatness in the prisoners depends entirely upon the -cap and apron. I soon ventured upon a different -plan of damping the apron over night, folding it -evenly as for ironing and binding it tightly round -the heating pipe whenever I could secure a share of -that much sought-after luxury, for the pipe was not -on my side of the ward. This device was successful -to the point of giving me a ludicrous amount of -pleasure. When the clothes were dealt out from -the laundry once a week they looked as if they had -been washed in cold water by a child, but the hot-pipe -dodge soon gave them quite a presentable look. -In the free world I am accustomed to sleep in -flannel sheets, woollen under-clothes, and a hot -bottle, also with two flannel pillows. The prison -equipment was, of course, not of that order. I -took off the dress, stiff petticoat, stays and neckerchief, -but kept on all the rest of the day clothing -and wore it under my night-gown. I also kept on -the night-gown in the day time, as it was the only -under-garment with long sleeves. This flagrant -break of the regulations on my part was either not -observed or was winked at by the authorities while -I remained in hospital.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> - -<p>The bedsteads were of iron, the bedding much -more luxurious than I had expected—two mattresses, -a pillow, three blankets and calico sheets, -unbleached, with red stripes, and marked frequently -with the broad arrow, as was the rest of the bedding. -My sheet, where turned over at the head, had a -large stain, as if oil had been dropped upon it. -The stain was dry, but, nevertheless, extremely -objectionable to look at. I remade the bed, putting -the other end of the sheet at the top, only to find -that the stains were everywhere. I seem to have -been specially unfortunate in my outfit on arrival, -for both this sheet and my flannel shirt were more -revolting in appearance than anything I saw again -in the whole course of my imprisonments. In one -respect I was lucky. My dress skirt, though -painted here and there with the broad arrow and -not new, was yet quite clean and of a convenient -length; some of us had to submit to a skirt that -touched the ground, an undesirable length in a -place where dust abounds abnormally and no -clothes brush is available, or else so short that the -legs were disagreeably exposed and gave the appearance -of a child’s dress. My dress shirt was quite -new, had evidently not been worn before, a luxury -which I much appreciated, since the sleeves were -worn next to the skin and it was made of non-washing -material.</p> - -<p>At each end of the bed was a small iron shelf. -At the head were kept a pint mug for water, tooth-brush, -soap, towel, brush and comb. On the shelf -at the foot were a Bible, prayer book, hymn book, -small devotional book, called <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>“The Narrow Way,” -and an instructive book on domestic hygiene, -“A Perfect Home and How To Keep It.” This contained -two chapters on the necessity of perfect -ventilation in sleeping rooms, the want of which gave -rise to ceaseless complaints from the Suffragettes -in the cells, and the attempt to instruct prisoners -by means of a book, while denying them the primal -need therein declared to be essential, seemed a -cruel as well as a rather ludicrous form of sarcasm.</p> - -<p>We proceeded to undress. I took down my hair, -which in those days I wore puffed out round the -head by means of fluffing the inner hair. The hair -brush was of the size and shape of a small shoe -brush, black and with black bristles which, in this -particular brush of mine, were almost worn away. -The comb was like a doll’s comb, exactly the size -of my first finger. Though my hair was not particularly -abundant, I struggled in vain for the first -two days to get it completely disentangled with -these utterly inadequate tools. There were no -looking glasses anywhere in the prison except, so I -heard it rumoured, in the doctor’s room, but I never -saw it when there. I did not attempt to dress my -hair, but did it up in a tight “bun” at the back of -my head. This not only seemed to me most suitable -for the prison cap and dress, but also I had an eye -to seizing the advantages of the prison life. If one -was not to have the comforts and luxuries of free, -civilised existence, I thought one had better shed as -many as possible of its burdens; I have always -ranked hair dressing as one of these. Some ex-prisoners -had told me that the hair pins we took -into prison in our hair would have to suffice us till<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -our release. Others said that more could be -obtained for the asking. I very soon found out -that asking for extras of this kind generally produced -a refusal and often something of a scolding -as well, so that I limited my requests to those which -would, I thought, be of general advantage to others -as well as to myself. I never saw any hair pins -being given out, and by the day of my release my -own supply had fallen to three. Despite this lazy -decision on my part I had the greatest admiration -for those prisoners who took a contrary view and -who in the teeth of difficulties, such as no looking -glass, an ever-diminishing supply of hair pins, and -the brush and comb as described, yet managed to -produce elaborately dressed heads of hair. Amongst -the Suffragettes, a large proportion of them had -remarkably beautiful and abundant hair, which -when, towards the end of my sentence, I saw them -in the exercise yard gave me an immense amount of -pleasure. Some of these managed to dress their -hair in puffed out and fashionable ways. Amongst -the ordinary prisoners I remember one in particular -who, in the way of hair dressing, excited my admiration -almost to the point of awe. She could boast of -no good looks, her face and her hair were of almost -the same shade of pale sand-colour. Through all -the week-days, whenever I saw her, a generous -portion of her front hair was rolled up with bits of -the thin, brown toilet paper, of which a practically -unlimited supply is served out to each prisoner, and -which is put to a great variety of uses. On Sunday -morning the curl papers were there as usual, but on -Sunday afternoon the bond-hair was made free and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -a glory of frizzled hair encircled and brightened her -poor, tired face. This adherence to outer-world -Sabbatarian tradition and conformity to the requirements -of orthodox public opinion had a meaning, -an artistic and moral expression almost, in prison, -such as they lack when occurring in ordinary life. -The good-will and neighbourliness of which, no -doubt, they were the outward symbol, had met with -their reward, for this woman was allowed a share -in some of the more privileged duties of the prison -service.</p> - -<p>I felt very tired as I laid down in the bed, but -my brain was screwed to a pitch of nervous excitement -that drove away all possibility of sleep. The -bed and pillow were stonily hard. My pulses beat -against the pillow; the stuffing of it gave back a -sort of rattling echo to every beat. A naked gas -jet immediately in front of my eyes was alight -all night. At a long table underneath it sat a -wardress reading or sewing at her own clothes. -One of the patients in a bed next but one to mine -seemed to be very ill. She tossed and turned -continually, as if in a high fever, and her voice -sounded parched as she coughed or called out in a -half delirious sleep. My distress for her grew as -I watched her. The wardress took not the smallest -notice of her. I kept on scheming as to how I -could help her, but my courage repeatedly failed me. -At last I could bear it no longer. I went up to her -bed and whispered, “Is there anything I can do for -you?” She answered, “I should like a little -water.” I took the pint mug of white earthenware -from the shelf behind her. It was empty; I took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -it to the wardress. “May I get that patient some -water?” I asked. She nodded assent. I went -to a washing-stand with two jugs and basins on -it that stood against the wall opposite the entrance -door. The wardress beckoned to me and pointed -towards another door which led to a small vestibule -giving on to a sink and lavatory. This door was -kept locked in the day time, but now it was open, -another door leading from the vestibule to the -landing being locked at night. I drew some fresh -water from the tap. The water in Holloway -seemed to be like mountain water, better than any I -have ever tasted in a town—I suppose because -the dry air in prison combined with much dust -makes one very thirsty. The prisoner thanked me -most gratifyingly and told me she was very ill with -influenza. I ventured to whisper before leaving -her, “Are you a Suffragette?” “Rather,” came -the prompt reply, and her face brightened at the -word. She was a nurse, Miss Povey, of the Freedom -League. The wardress herself had a hard, hacking, -bronchial cough, which must have hurt her a good -deal. I longed to suggest various things to her to -ease it, but I had not the courage. Though I was -immensely tired, all possibility of sleep seemed to go -further and further from me, and I was too much on -view for my thoughts to rest on my home and our -people. Finally, I settled down to watching the -wardress and the other prisoners, and wondering -who they were and what their crimes. I had never -seen many people in bed at night before. It was -amusing to watch their various ways of lying and -gestures, but none of them seemed to be really<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -asleep, or only for very short spells at a time. The -wardress had meals brought to her, and there would -be short snatches of whispered conversation with -the wardress who brought them in. It seemed to -me that it must be an appalling way of passing one’s -time. There was not the interest of a night nurse -nor the excitement of a policeman on the beat. -There was a large clock at one end of the ward -above a swing door leading to a lavatory. It was an -unexpected luxury to be able to watch the time.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="VI" title="CHAPTER VI. THE HOSPITAL">CHAPTER <abbr title="6">VI</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">THE HOSPITAL</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">At</span> about 5.15 a.m. the stillness of the prison was -broken by many sounds. One of the unexpected -things in prison life are the number of sounds one -hears which one cannot interpret at the time, and -which are never accounted for afterwards. One -early morning sound, or rather wrenching noise, -seemed to come from the ward or passages below our -own, as if a giant iron fender, with the fireirons loose -and rattling within it, were being dragged from one -end of the building to the other.</p> - -<p>At home I am no early riser, and I had looked -forward with most cowardly dread to the prison -routine in this respect. The puritanical elements in -my character, which hitherto had failed to drill the -rest of me on this point, took on a triumphant air of -sanctimonious glee with the expectation that a -fundamental reform would be wrought in me by at -least this portion of my punishment. But neither -the fears of my vices nor the hopes of my virtues -were realised. To rise at 5.30 requires no heroism, -under any conditions, when you have been allowed -to retire to rest at 6.30 or even earlier; but when in -addition your bed is extremely uncomfortable, your -pillow seems stuffed with thunder, you have with -difficulty been able to keep warm, and when you have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -scarcely been able to sleep a wink all night, then the -virtue necessary to make you rise early is <em>nil</em>.</p> - -<p>At 5.30 punctually, a little 3rd Division prisoner, -who slept in one of the infirmary cells along our -passage, came in to clean the grate and light the fire. -She moved very quickly and did her work with -precision and dexterity. She had a most attractive -and lovable face, refined features and a beautiful -expression. I wondered for what crime she had been -sent to prison. She wore several stripes on her arm -denoting good conduct during a protracted sentence.</p> - -<p>Soon after this the wardress came near my bed -and said it was time to get up. She told me to make -my bed and gave me what she called a duster for the -purpose of cleaning the iron bedstead. The duster -was a strip of thick sail-cloth, which moved the dust -but refused to absorb it. I dusted every part of the -iron, turned the mattresses and re-made the bed. -A thin counterpane of blue check gave a rather -pleasing finish. This had to be folded in a particular -way at the foot of the bed so as to fall over the side -in rectangular fashion. The wardress came up to -show me how to do it. It required a certain -dodge which pleased me very much, as did all the -other old-maidish fads of the kind in the prison -routine. But I found that no two experts achieved -this bed-cover fold in quite the same way. On that -first morning several of the prisoners, two wardresses, -and one of the overseeing wardresses (“officers” is -the correct term) came up to my bed and refolded -the corners of the bed cover, saying, “You haven’t -got that quite right,” or <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>“That’s wrong; this is the -way you should do it.”</p> - -<p>We took it in turns to wash. Hot water was -brought by the 3rd Division servant of the ward in -jugs. There were two crockery basins on the washing-stand, -which stood against the wall in the centre -of the ward. Such appointments seemed positively -luxurious, but one detail was sorely lacking, and its -absence marred all the rest—privacy.</p> - -<p>When dressed a superintendent “officer” came -into the ward. She looked extremely severe. She -asked, “Had I dusted my bed thoroughly before -I made it?” “Yes.” “Had I turned up the -movable half of the iron frame, and dusted it underneath?” -“No, I did not know there was a part -that turned up.” She said that was wrong, that -another morning I must be sure and do it, but she -did not tell me to make the bed again. I was -fortunate, for I heard afterwards that this same -officer took hold of the bedclothes and threw them -all off without explaining to their owner anything of -what it was about.</p> - -<p>Breakfast was brought in at about 6.30. The -patients who were well enough to be out of bed laid -the cloth and put out plates from a small cupboard -hung on the wall near the door. Then a wardress -and two 3rd Division prisoners carried in the hot -milk and tea in large cans, loaves of bread, a small -supply of butter and boiled eggs. The tea was -ladled out from the cans with a long tin spoon and -poured into the earthenware mugs. It looked as -if it must make a great mess, but was always very -skilfully done. The mugs and plates, I was pleased -to notice, were made of leadless glaze. In ordinary -life I have always considered hot boiled milk a very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -disagreeable drink, but that morning, after the long -wide-awake night, it seemed to me positive nectar. -In hospital we were allowed white bread; it was of -excellent quality, made of seconds flour. Tea and -eggs are no part of my diet, so I was limited to the -milk and bread and butter, but they were dealt out -abundantly, all except the butter, which was fresh -and of fairly good quality. Those of us who were -well sat at the table all together and waited on the -patients in bed. We were not supposed to talk to -each other, but we were allowed to communicate to -a certain extent in whispers. We were very much -amused at each other’s appearance in the strange -clothes and cap.</p> - -<p>After breakfast we cleared the table, the gate of -the ward was unlocked and we carried the crockery -to baskets on the floor in the passage. From there -the 3rd Division prisoners took them and washed -them out in the bath room cell next door. The -hospital wardress had to stand at the gate all the -time that we were doing this. Some wardresses -allowed us sometimes to come and go freely; others, -or the same wardresses on different days, would -allow only one of us out of the ward at a time. This -and all other rules of the kind would hardly ever be -told to us in so many words, but suddenly the -wardress would step out and block the way, laying -her hand upon us without a word as if we were -animals. This being handled when there is no -occasion for it seems very insulting. Like all these -prison methods, it seemed curious and interesting -when first done to oneself, but aroused a feeling of -indignation when one saw it being done to others.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -It gave one the feeling of belonging to a race apart, -something degraded and imbecile, despised not only -for the particular crime one had committed but as an -all-round inferior being. The moral influence of -this kind of treatment is rubbed in afresh through -every hour of prison life and has a bad moral influence -on both prisoners and wardresses. It seemed, -moreover, quite unnecessary.</p> - -<p>After breakfast the chief wardress who had -reproved us for not lifting up the movable section of -the beds, beckoned me to her—“Take off your -slippers. Bring your shoes; you have to go before -the Senior Medical Officer.” This made me anxious. -I knew quite well that I was not in a state of ill-health -to cause the release of an ordinary prisoner; -I knew, too, that many suffrage prisoners had been -kept in prison when much more seriously ill than I -was. But I remembered the specially constructed -rule which had sanctioned a letter being delivered -to me, and I was on the look-out for more privileges -of the kind. The wish was strong in me to have -personal experience of the inflictions which a Liberal -Government thought suitable to woman Suffragists, -to share every incident of the treatment which my -leaders and friends had suffered in our cause and to -gain some experience of prison life from within for -the sake of one day being equipped to work for -prison reforms.</p> - -<p>Outside the ward I was told to put on my shoes. -I hated those shoes with the vigorous hatred of a -child. The laces had no tags, my fingers were very -cold, and being hurried up by the wardress made -them the more awkward. I was given a cloak of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -green cloth and taken downstairs. The staircase -was of stone and, with my feet encased in these thick -unyielding shoes, I was afraid of slipping. I laid -my hand on the banister to steady myself. “If you -must have hold of that rail, can’t you use the -uprights? Don’t you see the top’s polished, you’ll -soil it.” This remark was made by the wardress -who shouted past me with a sort of bark. At the -foot of the stairs she pulled at my cloak, “Got it on -inside out, is that how you mean to wear it?” This -was said in the same voice, but I thought I caught -something of a twinkle in her eye as if she were not -without a sense of humour and would welcome an -appeal to the same. I noted this for future experimenting, -but was at the moment unable to take -advantage of it. I felt mentally stunned, physically -cowed, morally indignant, a blend of sensations -which I think must be common to many prisoners.</p> - -<p>The doctor’s room was a sort of office well lit by -several large windows. The Senior Medical Officer -was a different man from the doctor who had -inspected us the previous night. I had expected a -struggle on the question of tonics, but to my delight -he quickly agreed that I should survive without -drugs. He spoke in an ordinary voice, his expression -of face and the things he said were quite natural, he -treated me as though I were an ordinary mortal. -After even twelve hours of prison customs this seemed -a remarkable and gladdening thing. Up till that -moment I had incessantly wished that I should some -day be able to tell the officials the entirely harmful -impression conveyed by their manner to the -prisoners. It was obvious that this official manner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -was quite detached from the individual personality -of those who assumed it. They looked and spoke in -this way, not to serve their private ends, but in compliance -with some strangely mistaken tradition, as a -matter of conformity. When under the heel of it, -one felt a conviction that no reform of prison regulations -would alter the maiming influence of prison life -until this tradition were altered. Now, on the -contrary, I felt equally desirous of proclaiming that -here was an individual with an innate gift to usefully -fill the part of prison official; he had mastered the -fundamental matter of treating prisoners as he would -treat other human beings. I think this doctor tried -some slight persuasion to obtain my release by consenting -to be bound over. He quickly saw, however, -that my imprisonment was not due to any hasty or -unconsidered act, and he did not press the matter -for long.</p> - -<p>It was agreed that I should go back to bed for the -benefit of my heart condition. After the prolonged -strain I was only too glad to do this. The morning, -however, was taken up with many visits of inspection. -The Governor made his rounds in a formal -way and never relaxed his official muscles, but he -seemed kindly, nevertheless, and I felt sorry for -him having to play what I supposed was a disagreeable -game for him. The matron wore a quite -different expression from when I had seen her the -evening before. She looked very tired, and I -wondered whether any part of her work gave her -satisfaction. The Chaplain, too, looked ill and I -thought what a harrowing life his must be, always -pouring out sympathy for sorrows and sufferings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -that he had no power to relieve. He came up to my -bed with a smile and said, in a voice well-flavoured -with contempt: “Well, you must have done something -very wicked to find yourself in here?” I was -surprised, supposed he meant it for a joke; supposed, -too, that possibly from his point of view it was an -entirely comic thing that we should be in prison. -But it seemed odd that his imagination and -sympathy should not at least have led him to inquire -first what was our point of view in the matter, and -he seemed not to consider it possible that our actions -should have entailed self-sacrifice and the pain of -bringing anxiety to those we loved. I answered: -“If I had thought what I did very wicked, I should -not have done it.”</p> - -<p>At ten o’clock hot milk was again brought into the -ward for those who wished for it, also fruit, but, to -my great relief, this was optional. The morning was -taken up with cleaning the ward. The 3rd Division -prisoner by a series of processes and with the aid of a -long-handled polisher, first swept, then beeswaxed, -then polished the wooden floor. She did it with the -skill of an expert and her graceful gestures were a -pleasure to watch. She never paused for a moment -in her work except when the entry of some official -necessitated a temporary suspension.</p> - -<p>Then followed a polishing of metal fixtures and -dusting of the walls, shelves, books, etc. To my -great joy, the patients not in bed were ordered to -take part in the dusting. It was a means of practising -my favourite hobby of cleaning, also of keeping -warm, of helping the little 3rd Division prisoner, and -occasionally exchanging a whispered word with her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -though this was rarely achieved. The dust was -continuously stirred throughout the morning, moved -from the floor, then from the wall. The grey fluff -that came from the bedding and floated about the -floor gathered a certain amount of dust as it was -swept up and eventually burnt in the fire, but no -damping or reasonable process to get rid of the dust -was used, so that shelves, books, beds, were no -sooner dusted than they were again covered as before. -On one or two occasions I ventured to damp my -duster, but this, of course, made it very dirty, which -result met with disfavour. It was no doubt felt -that as the more vigorous patients had nothing -much better to do, they might as well go on dusting -throughout the morning. In an ordinary home the -daily processes of sweeping and dusting always seem -to me absurdly laborious, elaborate and inadequate; -the workers at these household crafts having had -so little share in the application of modern invention -to their toil, and little appeal on behalf of public -service and utility has been made to women of higher -education and greater leisure than the workers themselves. -The housecraft of prison, as one watched it -day by day, pressed one’s thoughts on to the subject. -The collecting of dust by means of damp cloths -immediately followed by a dry rubber would -certainly be more effective.</p> - -<p>At about twelve the midday food was served, it -was the most solid meal in the twenty-four hours. -It consisted every day of fried fish, potatoes, cabbage, -bread, butter and a custard pudding or boiled rice -pudding made with eggs. I, being a vegetarian, did -not eat fish. After some days I had the courage to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -ask for a rice pudding made without eggs and was -allowed this. The food was good and well cooked, -but the absolute monotony of the bill of fare was -a great trial to some of the prisoners, more especially -the bed patients.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon, those who were allowed out -exercised for an hour walking round and round a -yard with high walls to it. We were exercised at a -different time from ordinary prisoners. We were -not allowed to talk to each other and had to walk -single file one behind the other at a given distance -apart. As there were never more than four or five -of us from the hospital a certain amount of laxness -was allowed. We could go our own pace, the faster -walkers from time to time overtaking the slower and -now and then one was allowed to stop and lean up -against the wall. The weather was cold, we had -frost and snow, during most of my time in Holloway, -and being used to furs, gloves and muffs, I felt the -cold very much especially in my hands. The only -extra garment for out of doors was an unlined cloth -cape with hood attached. This was warmer than it -looked. I used to do arm exercises as I walked to -stir my blood. The discomfort of the shoes prevented -any joy in walking, there was no yield in the -soles and the hard leather pressed the feet in a way -to make every footstep a consideration. I have -sensitive feet and may have suffered more in this -respect than others, but to judge from appearance -the tread and gait of all prisoners is laborious and -artificial, affecting the hang of the whole body, on -account of the shoes.</p> - -<p>I did not go out for the first two or three days.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -In the afternoon the sense of fatigue overcame one. -Unless the patients were ill enough to undress and -get into bed, they were not allowed to lie on it, we, -however, sometimes sat on a chair close to the bed, -leaned our heads upon the pillow and slept.</p> - -<p>Some read books, others did needlework, others -tended the bed patients.</p> - -<p>I am a little deaf, and found it a tiring business -after no sleep at night to hold intercourse by means -of whispers, the only form of conversation allowed, -but nevertheless this was far the most interesting -occupation available. People are inclined to be -communicative, although total strangers to each -other, when cut off from their homes and friends and -all sharing the same fate. I heard life stories in -Holloway hospital that would fill many novels. I -wondered, as I have always done, how it is that -people can trouble to read books when romance, -adventure, comedy, tragedy and pathos are to hand -at all times in more living form and with far greater -variety of event and character.</p> - -<p>At about five the supper was brought in, the food -being the same as at breakfast. I sometimes kept -back a potato from the midday meal to eat cold with -the bread and butter. As soon as this was cleared -away we were let out in turns to the bath-room, -where a hot foot bath was provided, and privacy. -This was a most welcome luxury. Two mornings -after we had been in, a screen was put round the -washing table so that the morning ablutions became -more effective. From this time forward I experienced -nothing to complain of in the washing line.</p> - -<p>These first days of prison, although immensely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -interesting, were, nevertheless, longer in point of -time than anything I remember in life, not excluding -early childhood. The novelty of every detail and the -fact that observation was sharpened to a pitch only -known at moments of great emotion, no doubt -partly accounted for this.</p> - -<p>I knew that my eldest sister had intended to come -and visit me as soon as she could get a permit; I -supposed she would have no difficulty. The first -and second day went by and she did not come. I -became a prey to a morbid depression of spirits. -Being completely cut off from previous existence, -one rapidly fell into the belief that all friends and -belongings had discarded and forgotten one. This -state of mind was one of the most melancholy -experiences of prison. It seems childish and absurdly -unreasonable when remembered after release. -It nevertheless was bitterly real at the time, and a -few hours within prison walls were sufficient to -develop the illusion. As with so many other prisoner -sensations, it is akin to child life, engendered from -complete helplessness, subjection to others, ignorance -and uninformedness as to what is happening -outside the cramped horizon of the life to which one -is subject. The sense of continuous expectancy and -comfort for present distressful monotony in the -belief that undreamed of good might happen at any -moment is also very similar to the mental outlook -of children.</p> - -<p>The next day, February 26, Mrs. Pethick Lawrence -was summoned out of the ward. She came back -radiant, having had a visit from her husband. Her -happiness and the news she brought back of the outer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -world shed joy upon us all, but, nevertheless, I had -the feeling all the more strongly that my own people -had forgotten me, since they, I argued, could have -obtained the same privileges as Mr. Lawrence. The -ordinary prisoner is usually allowed a visitor only -after the first month of the sentence has expired.</p> - -<p>The members of the Freedom League were in great -excitement, expecting that their leader would be -coming to prison that day and very likely be sent to -hospital. She had been arrested at the head of a -deputation when the other members of the Freedom -League had been imprisoned, but her case had been -remanded. In the afternoon the prayer card at the -head of one of the spare beds was altered to one of -Roman Catholic prayers. This was taken to indicate -beyond doubt the coming of Mrs. Despard. I -read the Roman Catholic card and thought it compared -favourably, in point of suitability to prisoners, -with the selection made by the Church of England. -The hymns, biblical passages and prayers were more -tender and personal and less concerned with misdoing. -They were rather childish, but, as I have -pointed out, prisoners resemble children.</p> - -<p>In the evening, when the curfew hour of our -bedtime was already past, a stranger prisoner, a very -remarkable looking woman with white hair, a fine -face, and stately carriage came into the ward, and -was immediately recognised by her followers as their -deservedly beloved leader. She came up to greet -Mrs. Lawrence, and they were about to shake hands -with cordiality when the wardress interfered, angrily -forbidding them to touch one another.</p> - -<p>When the poison basket came round that night, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -noticed with admiration and envy Mrs. Despard’s -dignified but effectively determined refusal of the -proffered tonic. She discarded the hospital whisper -and said out loud to the drug dispenser: “I have -never taken medicine in my life and I am not going -to begin now; I will explain to the doctor to-morrow.” -She was a most vigorous lady. I have -never heard of a prisoner before or since who slept -soundly through the first night of sentence. She -walked round the exercise yard, too, at a pace -beyond my powers. I was fortunate in achieving -one very interesting conversation with her, when -she told me of how the women’s workrooms instituted -under the recent Local Government Board’s Central -Unemployment Fund had been closed down, on the -ground that they were not self-supporting, although -they were worked at less loss and at far less cost per -head than some of the workshops for unemployed -male workers. <abbr title="28 thousand pounds">£28,000</abbr> was said to have been spent -on one farm colony for men which had produced -only <abbr title="One thousand pounds">£1,000</abbr> return. Yet there was no complaint, -no talk of closing down because of its unremunerative -character. <abbr title="750 pounds">£750</abbr> had been allotted for widows’ -and single women’s workrooms. These, too, were -worked at a loss as there was not sufficient sale for -the clothes they made, and because of this loss, -small in total and far smaller in proportion than in -the men’s work, the room was closed. To our great -surprise Mrs. Despard was released “on medical -grounds,” after serving only a week of her sentence, -although she was in robust health. The weekly paper -<cite>The Christian Commonwealth</cite> had taken up her -case and the House of Commons was circularised by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -the editor, Mr. Dawson. This is supposed to have -moved the Home Office to clemency.</p> - -<p>One of the patients who slept in a separate cell, -but came to the ward for meals, had a particularly -attractive face and personality. She was exceptionally -gentle and courteous in her manner, but her -outward calm nevertheless suggested a reserve of -inward force; her eyes had a way of lighting up -suddenly with sympathy, pathos, or fun. I longed -to have a free talk with her. Her name was Mrs. -Clarke; she was one of three Suffragettes, the others -being Miss Irene Dallas and Miss Douglas Smith, who -had been arrested on a deputation to Downing Street -on January 24. I had sent in my name for the larger -deputation to the House of Commons. I had -been invited to go instead on this smaller one to -Downing Street, but I had refused. When I saw the -women afterwards who had undertaken this much -more disagreeable job than mine, I felt again -thoroughly ashamed of myself. I should say they -were all three unusually sensitive to the odiousness -of the errand which had appalled me to the point of -shirking it. I did not realise until after she had left -the prison that Mrs. Clarke was a sister of Mrs. -Pankhurst.<a name="Anchor_5" id="Anchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 5.">[5]</a> These three were released on the -morning of February 27. We could just hear the -sounds of their welcome and the band playing -the <cite>Marseillaise</cite> outside the prison, but, of course, -could see nothing through the high, grained-glass -windows. One was filled with a great longing to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -join them. This was after only thirty-six hours -of prison, I imagined what it must be to those -under long sentences when a fellow prisoner is -released.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h3 title="">Footnote:</h3> - -<ul> -<li><a name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5"></a><a href="#Anchor_5" class="fnlabel">[5]</a> Mrs. Clarke was released from Holloway the second -time on December 23, 1910. She died on December 25, -1910. -</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p>On that day, Saturday, at about the time for our -exercise, one of the superior officers came into the -ward and, singling me out from the others, ordered -me to leave my slippers, bring my shoes to put on -outside and follow her. I had already learnt the -order of the daily routine, and every event that was -slightly exceptional filled me with hope that my turn -had come for a “visitor,” but I had had several -disappointments in this line and so steeled myself -not to expect too readily. I was taken across the -yard of the main entrance and ushered through a -part of the prison where I had not been before to a -row of rooms looking like small offices with glass -doors, giving on to a passage. On the door to which -I was led was written the word “Solicitor,” and -almost before I had time for joyous conjectures as -to who my “visitor” could be, the door was opened -and my sister, Betty Balfour, was facing me. It was -like seeing the sun after a long time of darkness. I -only then realised to what an extent the gloom of -prison surroundings and anxiety about my home -people had taken hold of my mind. The sight of my -sister did not dispel them, but seemed to take me -from within their grip to an independent position -outside of them, the physical trials of my fellow -Suffragettes in our ward, the anti-happiness get up -of the prison building, clothing, food, equipment, and -the general vitality-destroying framework of the -prison system and its officials, seemed suddenly to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -a thing apart from me instead of one with my very -self.</p> - -<p>We were told to seat ourselves on opposite sides -of a small table and not to touch each other nor pass -anything from one to the other. The door was left -open and the wardress sat just outside so as to hear, -and if necessary control our communications. She -was a benignant, kindly woman whom I had not -seen before; she reminded me of Madeleine de -Rohan, of the Theatre Français, in <cite lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Le Monde où l’on -s’ennui</cite>. She was dignified, gentle, sympathetic. I -was nevertheless afraid of her, or rather of the office -which she filled, and wished her miles away. I -never saw her again, either during my month in -Holloway or on the many occasions when I have -since revisited it on behalf of other prisoners. I -have tried several times to write down my impressions -of this “visit” from my sister. I have to own -myself beaten. The joy of it seems so exaggerated, -I cannot trust myself to convey it for publication. -All prison sensations are exaggerated from the point -of view of those out of prison, that is their essential -characteristic. Still more exaggerated must a -genuine description of them seem to a prison official -who is used to witness without sharing them. For -men and women who have experienced them, it is -never again possible to discredit their intensity or -to be contemptuous towards those who try to give -expression to them. My own recollections of prison -are isolated from other parts of my life by a kind of -halo of reverence. Awe comes over me whenever -they are in my mind; this awe and reverence are -twice as powerful in connection with those moments<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -when joy had her turn, and these rare occasions of -gladness outweigh from their importance the much -more numerous experiences of gloom, anxiety, anger -and physical suffering.</p> - -<p>After twenty minutes of eager and joyful ecstasy -of communication, during which I drank in the sight -and sound of my sister’s loved personality, the -wardress told us that our time was up and I was -taken away. My sister and I were allowed to kiss -each other before parting. When I got back to -hospital I had three very distinct sensations. That -of having experienced a good thing which was over; -distress at not being able to impart my joy to my -companions nor discuss it with them, since none of -them knew my sister; indignation when I realised -that no ordinary prisoner, who needed the help of -joy so much more than I did, and no Suffragette -prisoner without influential friends, would be able -to have a similar experience until after the first -month of imprisonment. In the practical sense -more especially, for the settlement of business and -family affairs, it is on first being imprisoned that -letters and interviews are needed by prisoners.</p> - -<p>The glow of my own happiness, however, triumphed -over all else until bed time, when with a perversity -born, I suppose, of the accumulated fatigue of recent -days and nights, the one flaw in my sister’s visit came -uppermost in my thoughts and possessed my brain -with an unconquerable tyranny. Some days before -the deputation, she had been in correspondence with -a leading Conservative M.P., one whose lifelong -belief in Woman Suffrage had become a little rusty. -The questions he put to my sister proved that he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -not kept pace with recent events in the movement -and was unaware of the tremendous demand made -by women themselves for the vote as evidenced by -the resolutions, petitions, and unreceived deputations -of organised societies of working and professional -women, quite apart from the unions that had -sprung up everywhere expressly in support of the -Suffrage. I had sent her a collection of printed -evidence to this effect for the benefit of her correspondent -and I inquired of her eagerly that afternoon -as to the result. She told me that she had unfortunately -lost the papers. I was annoyed and -wasted several minutes of our precious time together -in reproof. The memory of my anger came back to -me now in exaggerated dimensions. Why had I -allowed myself to be reproachful to her? She had -been so dear to me, so prompt and efficient in her -efforts to come and see me, so comforting in her -wealth of sympathy, and I had rewarded her with -reproaches! As I went back over the scene, my -heart was wrung with longing to send her some little -message of good-will and my inability to do so -appeared to me then as nothing short of a tragedy. -For the fiftieth time in those first hours of imprisonment -I seemed to be and to feel like a child, at the -mercy of fluctuating emotions extreme in their -intensity. I longed to be alone, but that night the -ward patients kept unusually wide awake and I -had to restrain myself over and over again. As -the night wore on, the avenue of beds became less -troubled, a sense of privacy grew in proportion and -at last I gave way to my grief and sobbed. I -covered my face in the bedclothes, but in spite of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -this precaution the wardress heard me and before -long she came and stood by my side. I expected a -scolding. She very seldom took any notice of the -patients till morning, I knew it was her business to -reprove me, but on looking up at her face I saw that -the customary mask-like expression had vanished. -She was kind, she inquired tenderly why I was crying, -sat down on my bed and held my hands, told me that -my sister would not remember my reproaches but -would be unhappy if she knew of my present distress. -She did not laugh at me, she showed as much -sympathy as a friend. It was a great surprise. -She stayed talking to me in whispers for a considerable -time, though looking continually towards the -door as if in fear of being detected in a kindness, for -through the night as through the day, she was liable -to unseen inspection through the locked gate and -open door, or through the spy-hole of the door when -closed. I was most deeply grateful to her, it was -a delightful discovery that underneath her rigid -exterior she was an unspoiled human being. I -longed to return her kindness and ventured to propose -that I should rub her chest to ease her hacking -cough. At first she would not hear of it, but at last, -after I had fetched some ointment from the bed-head -of one of the patients who had a cough, she consented -and allowed me to open her dress. She seemed much -afraid and told me she would probably be dismissed -if we were seen. My attempts to allay her distress -eased my own mind of its childish trouble, for which -reason she had probably allowed me to help her. I -would gladly have talked to her all night about -prisoners, the working conditions of wardresses, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -own life, but this, of course, was forbidden. She -soon went back to her table, her face resumed its -former expression and I never again held any intercourse -with her. If the horrors of prison existence -are enshrined in an atmosphere of nightmare, the -rare happy moments have the glamour of a good -dream. This kind act of the night-wardress remains -as one of the sunlit flower patches of my time in -Holloway.</p> - -<p>The next morning after the superior officer had -been her rounds taking temperatures, she beckoned -me to her. “What have you been complaining -about?” she asked sharply. “I haven’t been complaining,” -I answered. “Yes, you have—you complained -of something to a visitor.” I then remembered -that, when reassuring my sister as to my health -and to prove to her the genuineness of my statements -as to prison conditions being in no way -harmful to me, I had mentioned two things which -proved rather trying, viz., that my underclothes and -stockings were too short to cover my knees, and the -fact that one small towel had to do service for all -purposes during a week. I reported this to the -wardress, but explained that I had mentioned these -not in complaint but to prove to my sister that my -discomforts were insignificant. “Well,” she retorted, -“next time you have anything to complain of -come to me with it—if not I shall get into trouble.” -This seemed the very reverse of prison regulations, -for usually the trouble was caused by anything out -of the ordinary being granted to a prisoner. From -that time forward I was supplied with two towels, -one of them renewed every week, and two rolls of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -flannel bandages were brought to me to cover my -knees. I supposed that the ordinary cells, to which -I expected soon to be transferred, would be much -colder than the hospital, so I held the flannel -bandages in reserve. After I came out of prison I -heard that my family were troubled, knowing how -dependent I was upon warm underclothes, especially -at night. My eldest brother had interviewed the -head of the Prison Commissioners Department, Sir -Evelyn Ruggles-Brise, who had said that I should -at once be supplied with bed-socks. Bed-socks, of -course, do not grow in prisons. They were represented, -I suppose, by my flannel bandages, but the -official statement had the desired result of quieting -my family’s anxiety.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> -<h2 id="VII" title="CHAPTER VII. SOME TYPES OF PRISONERS">CHAPTER <abbr title="7">VII</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">SOME TYPES OF PRISONERS</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was no chapel for us on Sunday and it -seemed an unusually long day. My thoughts -yearned towards my home people, and I rehearsed -the joy of my sister’s visit over and over again. The -excitement of seeing her had now given way to a -wholesome and relaxed fatigue and I looked forward -to another night with a sure expectation of sleep. -In the evening at about six o’clock, our bed time, a -new patient was brought into the ward. She was -carried in by 3rd Division prisoners, helped by a -head officer, sitting upright in an ordinary armchair -with carrying poles attached to the arms. She looked -extremely ill and ashy pale. She was evidently in -great pain, though she did not groan or call out. -There was nothing in the way she was treated to -suggest a surgical case, and I concluded that she had -been brought in for some fever or acute internal -complaint; from the look on her face I thought it -not unlikely that she might die in the night. She -was a stranger to me and after the first few minutes -my instinct was to turn away and not look at her, -remembering the distressing sense of publicity -which I myself had felt so acutely on first coming to -hospital. The news quickly spread in the ward that -she was a member of the Freedom League, by name<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -Mrs. Meredith Macdonald. She had several friends -in the ward, but they scarcely recognised her when -she was first brought in. They told me that she had -fallen down that morning in the exercise yard, which -was slippery from frost, and had injured her leg at -the hip joint. I soon got to know her myself and -talked much with her. No nurse was in attendance -on her during the night, only the ordinary night -officer (wardress). The anguish of acute suffering -in this newcomer and her harrowingly unassisted -condition, drove all thoughts of my own people from -my mind and all question of sleep from my eyes. -The accident had taken place at about 9.30 a.m. -She had slipped over a small gutter and fallen with -great suddenness to the ground. She lay for several -minutes stunned in the snow. The wardress in -charge ordered her to “go into the middle,” where -those who cannot walk fast drag round in a smaller -circle, but she did not attempt to move. Some of her -fellow prisoners came to her assistance, they were -immediately ordered away by the officers. She -looked across the yard to the wardress of her own -corridor who then came to help her. “I have hurt -my thigh,” she said; “I think I had better go -in.” The wardress answered, “Very well.” As -soon as she began to walk she felt pain in the hip -bone and put her hand on the wardress’s shoulder for -support. It was a very short distance to her -block (D X) of the building and on reaching it she -was handed over to another wardress who suggested -she should sit down and rest before going up to her -cell. She was about to do this when her right leg -collapsed completely under her and she would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -fallen, but that a wardress held her up and put her -into a chair. She was then told to go upstairs -“before you get any stiffer.” The leg was useless, -but by help of the double banisters she hopped up -two flights to her cell, an older wardress from the -upper corridor lending her assistance. She had no -control over her foot and said to the elder wardress -that there must be something wrong. The wardress -answered, “I am afraid you have injured the muscles -and that is a very painful thing,” and offered to put -her to bed. She could not face the additional pain -of being undressed. About half an hour later a -doctor and the hospital superintendent visited her, -and she was subjected to extreme pain by a reckless -testing. She herself suspected a fracture and suggested -having recourse to X-rays as the only means -of satisfactorily testing this. She pleaded the special -need in her case of, if possible, retaining her walking -power on account of her young children. The doctor -sent her a draught to ease the pain, but this was -quite ineffective. She lay in her cell all day unable -to keep still for long on account of the pressure of -the injured part on the mattress, and yet every move -was exquisitely painful. In the evening the doctor -came again and renewed his agonising overhauling. -She was then removed to hospital, the chair in which -they carried her, having no foot rest, the injured -leg came in frequent contact with the porters, causing -her the intensest pain. It is not surprising that she -looked more dead than alive on reaching the ward.</p> - -<p>The injury and the rough methods of investigation -combined produced a feverish and most painful -condition in the patient. The case was taken over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -by another doctor (Dr. Sullivan) who at least handled -the injury much less brutally, but no attempt was -made to treat it surgically. A slight wound in the -lower part of the leg was occasionally dressed and -bandaged by the hospital wardress, who visited us -twice a day when temperatures were taken and drugs -distributed. There was no other nursing whatever. -The doctor’s examinations consisted only of measurements -to compare the length of the injured leg with -the healthy one. Nothing was done, in recognition -of fracture, to reset the bones or keep the limb in one -position, no weight was applied to stretch the shorter -injured leg; there seemed to be no aim in the doctor’s -recommendations beyond that of helping to -restore a bruised bone by as nearly a natural use of -it as the patient could be urged to make. A circular -air-cushion was supplied and extra pillows; also a -night table by the side of the patient’s bed, and a -bed pan was kept in the ward which could be used -for bed-patients with the voluntary assistance either -of the wardress in charge or of the fellow-prisoners. -Mrs. Macdonald was kept in bed for the first few -days, but the extremely painful pressure from lying -on the injured bone with the legs in flat position -caused her incessant restlessness, and before long she -begged leave to get up and sit in an armchair. This -was allowed and soon she was urged to move about, -walk and use the leg as much as possible. In spite -of the most heroic efforts, the last recommendation -was impossible. She moved about leaning on a -chair by way of crutch and getting up or sitting -down with the help of her fellow-prisoners. The -complete loss of control over the injured leg pointed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -in my estimation, to much more serious harm than -mere bruising. I felt the greatest indignation from -that first evening of her entrance among us at the -way this prisoner was treated. Her suggestion about -the X-rays was ignored, her request to the Governor, -and eventually her petition to the Home Secretary, -that she might be visited by her own doctor was -refused. When the doctors talked with her about -her case they seemed to pay no attention to her own -views, but rather accentuated the official prison -manner of ignoring individuals as though she had -been a child or an irresponsible person. Yet there -was no trace of exaggeration or a tendency to work -up grievances over her own case. Through all her -acute and continuous physical suffering she showed -keen powers of observation and a sense of humour -that constantly relieved the nightmare of horror -with which I watched her pain. Her heroism under -physical suffering surpassed anything I have ever -come across or imagined possible. During the -nights I was with her in the ward, about four or five, -I slept very little myself and whenever I looked at -her she was awake. I did not once see her asleep -by day or night while I was with her in prison. It is -only since seeing her in free life that I have been -able to compare her face under normal conditions -and realised the intensity of distress which must -have caused the continually strained expression she -had in Holloway, varied at times by contortions due -to acute pain. Yet she spoke little of her sufferings, -seldom complained of anything, never once was -irritable under her trials or indignant at the treatment -of them, never once groaned or cried. She was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -uniformly patient, gentle, self-contained, considerate -of others.</p> - -<p>I still was unable to get any sleep at night, but -when a few days had gone by I ventured to make up -my bed so that I faced the wall instead of the ward. -This gave a greater sense of privacy and sheltered my -eyes from the blinding light of the naked gas jet. -I very much missed a habit I have of doing various -physical exercises before going to bed. About halfway -through the night I made amends for this by going -to the little ante-room near the sink and lavatory, -the door of which communicating with the ward was -left unlocked at night. Here, taking it corner ways, -there was just room for me to stretch my arms full -length. I consider it was thanks to this midnight -practice that I was able to keep my digestion in -better order than is usual among prisoners.</p> - -<p>Hospital patients are not allowed to go to the -daily service in chapel, but occasionally we were -taken down to a morning service, in the nature of -family prayers, which was held in the ward below -ours. This was given over mostly to feeble-minded -patients, several of whom were in bed. My place -was always the same, close to the bed of a woman -whose face will haunt me, I think, as long as I live. -I never saw her move, she lay quite flat, her head -alone appearing above the bed clothes. She took no -part in the service and seemed to be unconscious of -it. She was young, her skin was remarkably smooth -and devoid of expressive lines, but yellow as if she -had jaundice. Her appearance illustrated to me the -meaning of despair more clearly than I have seen it -hitherto in any living being. She was entirely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -passive and unresentful, but if hope had tried to -enter into her mind it would find no lodging there. -It seemed to me that neither life nor death had anything -to offer her, nor was there anything she -possessed of which they could rob her. While I -stood or sat through the service my back was turned -on her, but when I knelt down I was facing her. -One could not feel pity for her—there was a rigid -dignity and detachedness about her as of someone -living in an atmosphere different from our own. All -my thoughts and prayers were bent towards her, but -I never had the sensation of in any way communicating -with her.</p> - -<p>I noticed regretfully that there were no hymns, -hardly any passages from the Bible were read, the -prayers selected were of a dolorous order, and the -greater part of the time was taken up by an address -from the chaplain. He spoke to us of the temptation -in the wilderness, how that Christ was tempted -in the same way that we are, but that He was good -and we were bad. He instanced how wrong it -would be if, when we were hungry, we yielded to the -temptation of stealing bread. At this remark an -old woman stood up. She was tall and gaunt, her -face seamed with life, her hands gnarled and worn -with work. One saw that whatever her crimes -might have been she had evidently toiled incessantly. -At this moment her face wore an expression of -strained intensity as though some irresistible tide of -inward emotion had forced her to act. The tears -streamed down her furrowed cheeks as she said in a -pleading, reverent voice, “Oh, sir, don’t be so hard -on us.” The wardresses immediately came up to her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -took her by the shoulders and hustled her out of the -ward; we never saw her again. The Chaplain did -not answer nor even look at her, and continued his -address as if nothing had happened. A feeling of -passionate indignation took hold of me, succeeded by -the feeling of helplessness and irresponsibility which -stifles vitality and above all every good impulse in -prison. Sympathy for the ejected prisoner, disagreement -with the man who officially represented -the teaching of Christianity, neither of these thoughts -could find vent in words or actions; they become -stored up in a brooding, malignant attitude of -resentment towards the whole prison system, its -infamous aim, its profound unreason, and the -cruelly devitalising distortion of its results.</p> - -<p>When we were back in our ward the Chaplain -came to visit us. This time, he knew who I was. I -asked him about the prison library which was under -his charge. I wished to send some books when I was -free, amongst others George Moore’s story of “Esther -Waters.” I thought that novel ought to be in every -woman’s prison because of the heroic and triumphant -struggle depicted in it of the mother of an illegitimate -child. I asked the Chaplain if he knew it and would -allow me to send it. He answered that he did not -know the book, and added, “But your ladyship is -such a good judge of literature, I should leave the -choice of books entirely to you.” Whenever -officials visited the ward we were supposed each to -stand at the foot of the bed allotted to us. Complete -silence was the rule. This remark of the Chaplain’s -was, therefore, overheard by many of my fellow-prisoners. -From that moment I was nick-named<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -“your ladyship.” As soon as the official round was -over several of us came together and, as was inevitable, -compared the attitude of the Chaplain towards -the prisoner who had appealed to him during his -address and towards myself. It was on this occasion -I first noticed that the dress-jacket I wore was -different from those of my companions; mine was -evidently quite new and without the broad arrow -markings. A fellow-prisoner, Miss Povey, member -of the Freedom League, to whom I had brought a -glass of water during the first night, came to my -rescue. She was now sufficiently recovered to be -out of bed during part of the day. She had a great -sense of humour and immediately responded to my -need. We seized a brief moment when the wardress -was standing in the doorway, we took shelter behind -the open door and swopped each other’s serge shirts. -She was small made and for once this portion of the -clothing had been more or less well adapted to our -respective sizes. The sleeves of my shirt were half -a length longer than she required, and though she put -a large tuck in them they retained their superfluity -of size. The sleeves of her shirt did not reach my -wrists and as the solitary button at the neck did not -secure the closing of the jacket down the front, I had -continually to be pulling it together again in the -course of the day. It was marked in many places -with the broad arrow, but had been so well worn, -as the lining of the neck and cuffs attested, that the -white paint of the markings had almost chipped off -in several places. From this time onward it became -a sort of game to watch for the privileges that were -accorded to me. Prisoners who had been in before -explained that until I came there were never knives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -and forks supplied as we now enjoyed, the fare, -too, had been made more luxurious.</p> - -<p>After three or four days I had practically recovered -from the effects of the treatment meted out to the -Deputation, and, but for the want of sleep and its -results, had regained my normal health. I was very -anxious to leave the hospital, partly because I -wanted to share the lot of the bulk of my Suffragette -companions and to ensure that they should benefit -by whatever unusual privileges were accorded to me. -Secondly, I wished to know from my own experience -the routine life of ordinary prisoners and to see -more of them, which I supposed would be possible -away from the ward. Finally, my appetite for -solitude grew from hour to hour. I feared that -continued lack of sleep (I am a slave to sleep) -might tell on me in a way to seriously handicap my -health and cause my friends and belongings anxiety -after my release, which could easily be avoided. -Consequently, every morning when the Governor -and doctor came on their round I asked leave to go -to “the other side,” as the ordinary cell buildings -were called. My monotonous request was as -monotonously refused from day to day. The -Governor replied that I must first obtain consent -from the doctors, the doctors insisted that my -heart was in a condition to make the routine of -floor-washing, plank bed, etc., injurious to me. -One of the doctors did not trouble to continue -feeling my pulse, he simply dismissed my request -to be moved with the statement, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>“As for you, you -are suffering from serious heart disease, you can’t -be let out of hospital.”</p> - -<p>To harden myself for the cell routine I shared -more and more in the cleaning processes of the ward. -Besides the emptying of basins and dusting the walls -as high as my arms could reach, the big table had to -be moved for floor polishing, and I helped the little -3rd Division ward-cleaner with this. She was very -small and worked unremittingly all day. She used -to flush very much over the floor-polishing, although -she was most dexterous with the heavy, long-handled -polisher, and did all her duties with admirable -labour-saving skill and sequence. I wondered -how much her heart condition was considered. I -felt a great interest in her. Her face, expression, and -manners were those of an essentially good woman, -she was intelligent, had a sense of humour, was -loyal to both the officials and her fellow-prisoners; -she seemed in every way above the average of -mortals. I wondered what offence against the law -could have brought her to prison, she had several -bars on her sleeve, implying a long sentence. I -found she had committed one of the most grievous -crimes which it is possible to commit, the most -unnatural, and opposed to all that lies at the root -well-being of a race or nation. She had killed her -own child. Yet when I came to know the facts, it -seemed to me that her actions were fully accounted -for, and even had her child-killing been more -deliberate than it actually was, it was impossible to -condemn this action in a human being who had been -squeezed by such opposing forces. Her story was -told me in snatches partly by the other prisoners, -partly by one of the wardresses, and partly by herself -as I used to kneel by her side to put floor refuse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -into the fire at the rare moments when the enormous -padlock of the fender door had been released. Her -story was this. She was a servant, and had been -seduced by her master. She, of course, was dismissed -from his service. When the child was born, -he had at first contributed to its support, but after -a while had ceased to do so and disappeared, leaving -no address. She had taken the greatest pride in -bringing up her child, a boy, to whom she was -devoted. Her cell was one of those just outside -the general ward. It was sometimes used for the -reception of visitors to hospital patients who were -too ill to go across the way. When this happened -she always asked the prisoners eagerly on their -return, “Did you see the photo of my boy?” -Having been in prison many months she was -allowed to receive and keep this photograph. To -return to her story, as time went on the struggle to -maintain herself and her child was considerable. -She made a friend, a man of her own class, who knew -her history, respected her for her good motherhood -and promised to marry her as soon as a sufficiently -good job came his way. Before long the job was -said to have been offered him, marriage was in -sight, and they plighted their troth with the seal -which knows no undoing. The work failed, marriage -prospects paled, her friend deserted her and she -found herself faced with the prospect which she now -understood only too well, of disabled health, unemployment, -disgrace, and a second child to maintain -unaided. She kept on at her employment—in a -laundry—until the very hour of her premature -confinement. Then worn out in body and spirit,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -and quite alone at the moment of her trouble, she -had in her distraction and misery strangled her -baby. She went on with her work at the laundry. -It was the father of her child who gave her up to -the police; according to one rendering, he did so -because she was so ill he thought it the only way to -secure for her “a rest.” She had an uncle, a -citizen of London, a publican, who used his influence -on her behalf at her trial so that she was condemned -on the charge of “concealment of birth,” -not of child-murder. Prisoners are allowed visitors -once a month, but no one had been to see her for -several months. I determined I should be one of -her visitors as soon as I was again free, so that we -might hold a sustained conversation of a kind -impossible to fellow-prisoners.</p> - -<p>I often tell the story of this girl as an example of -the neglect of women’s interests and the consequent -need for the recognition of their citizenship so that -legislation and administrators of the law should be -responsible to both sexes. My listeners have sometimes -commented: “But what difference could the -vote make? and how could legislation alter these -admittedly tragic situations?” At this very time -(March, 1909) the women of Norway who had -recently been enfranchised, but had not yet exercised -the vote, were drafting a bill for the protection -of illegitimate children. I think there could not be -a better example of how a fundamental change could -be made in both the educative and protective side -of legislation as between men and women, pre-eminently -just and without any reactionary vindictiveness -on the part of women. The essence of this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -law is simply recognition of the fact that every child -has two parents and that the burden and responsibility -of producing children should, therefore, be -shared by both in so far as law can secure equality. -According to this Norwegian law, <em>the mother is given -the right during pregnancy to inform the local authorities -of the name of the father. The man whose name is -given may deny responsibility within fourteen days. -If he does not, he is registered as the father; if he -denies it the burden of proof rests with the mother. -The father can be compelled to support the mother for -three months before</em> (in England the law gives her no -claim upon the father until after the birth of the -child), <em>and, in certain instances, for nine months after -confinement, and he is bound to support the child until -it is sixteen years old</em>. A man at the time of intimacy -is comparatively willing to undertake his share of -these situations; after the lapse of many months he -is more inclined to try and shirk them. In the case -of denial on the part of the man, how much easier it -would be for the woman to prove her case when the -friendship had been recent and witnesses could be -brought forward in support of corroborating evidence. -Ten or twelve months later such witnesses -have often dispersed or their memories grown hazy. -Owing to the undefended, economically unsupported -position of these mothers, certain results inevitably -follow—loss of respectable situations and consequent -necessity for the women to have recourse to more -precarious, more laborious, and worse paid employment, -with their lowered social status pressing heavily -upon them in every direction. These conditions, -reacting on the exceptional physical state of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -mother, claim their inevitable toll from the life-blood -of the child. It is not surprising that the -deaths of illegitimate children are nearly double -those of children born in wedlock; for 1911, the -statistics, the latest issued, show deaths of infants -under one year in England and Wales, in wedlock -249.37 per thousand births, illegitimate 489.99. -With the mother’s maintenance secured, something -tangible is being done to save the health as well as -the life of future generations. <em>The woman can draw -the amount of her claim through the local authorities -who recover it from the father.</em> This is an immense -safeguard. Constantly under the legal conditions -here, when the mother’s claim has been proved, -admitted by the father and paid by him for a few -weeks, he moves away before long, leaving no -address and the woman, even if she knows of his -whereabouts, cannot enforce her claim without -irksome and difficult legal procedure. It is far -easier for the public authority to pursue him, but -even if this proves in some cases impossible, it is -better for the State to lose its money than the life or -health of its citizens. The State always pays in the -end. <em>The child has the right to bear the father’s name -and, in the event of his intestacy, has the same rights -of succession as his legitimate children.</em> Just imagine -how this clause would alter the outlook of parents -when educating their sons, more especially in -those spheres of society where such unions on the -part of men are almost invariably with women -of a lower class than their own, and it is these -unions which produce tragic and evil results far -more socially and racially injurious than illegiti<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>mate -unions among men and women of the same -class.<a name="Anchor_6" id="Anchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 6.">[6]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h3 title="">Footnote:</h3> - -<ul> -<li><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6"></a><a href="#Anchor_6" class="fnlabel">[6]</a> This bill, I believe, was passed in Norway, with some -alterations. -</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p>Another of the hospital patients, a member of our -Deputation, Miss Leslie Lawless, was gravely ill with -her lungs. She seemed in a high fever and we were -very anxious about her. The prison clothes hang -loosely upon one, and, though this is healthy in -principle, they seem draughty and cold after modern -garments, such as close-fitting undervests, etc. She -had caught a severe chill waiting about for more than -an hour in the draughty passages after the reception -bath. She had been very ill and suffered much in -her cell before being brought, only after the third -day, to hospital. Mrs. Duval, a member of the -Freedom League, was another really suffering patient. -She had come up to London to see the results of the -Freedom League Deputation. She was walking -about the street when the Deputation had already -been arrested. She was not taking part in any form -of disturbance or demonstration. She was arrested -on the ground that she was “known to be one of -them.” Two gentlemen, total strangers, who witnessed -her arrest, volunteered to come into court -and speak on her behalf. She was nevertheless -found guilty and sentenced to six weeks’ imprisonment. -She had twice been in prison before; she had -not intended to risk arrest as she was in a very -delicate state of health, having suffered considerably -from her previous imprisonments. She was now in -hospital with acute neuritis and a most irritating -rash. She had many children at home and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -anxious about them, not having been able to make -adequate arrangements for them owing to her sudden -and unexpected imprisonment. When I looked into -her suffering face and heard from our whispered conversation -that this was her third imprisonment I felt -overcome. I envied her courage, but felt myself -quite incapable of following her example.</p> - -<p>Flowers were provided by the prison authorities, -both in our ward and the one below; sometimes, -too, our friends sent them to us. We were not -allowed to know from whom they came, and they -could not be destined for any particular prisoner, -but flowers are expert ambassadors, and their -messages of good-will from our friends were generally -understood. They had to be taken out of the ward -at night and returned to the ward in the morning; -they had to be refreshed, the water changed and -dead leaves picked off. I usurped this office. I -feel ashamed, on looking back, to remember with -what selfish greed I took it over, never giving the -others a choice or chance in the matter. The joy -of handling the flowers seemed like food and rest -rolled into one. All the patients rejoiced in them. -When a new lot were sent in they were handed -round for each prisoner to see them and smell them -at close quarters. Their appearance in prison used -to remind me of Filippino Lippi’s Florentine -picture of the Virgin appearing through the sky -with a trail of coloured angels behind her to St. -Bernard in his ascetic and joyless surroundings. -They brought moments of rapture which revitalised -one’s spirit and counteracted many of the stunning -effects of prison existence. Some people whom I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -told of this have resented the fact that prisoners -should be given the joy of flowers, but unless it be -recognised as part of the punitive system to impose -physical illness, I think the prison hospital authorities -are to be congratulated on their wisdom in -this respect; the flowers did more than the drug-basket -to heal our complaints.</p> - -<p>One of the reasons I took on as many housemaiding -jobs as I could was that it enabled me to -be let out of the ward for the emptying of slops, -and this afforded a good opportunity for seeing and -occasionally communicating with ordinary prisoners. -They seemed to come and go pretty quickly from -our floor of the hospital, and I seldom saw any of -them more than twice or three times. The prisoner’s -dress has a wonderfully disguising and unifying -power, and it was a never-ending interest to try -quickly to diagnose the type of prisoner, so as to -make the most of any possible communication by -whispers. Washing up was done in the bath-room -cell and the door left open. Sometimes the handling -of plates would prove that such work was unaccustomed -and uncongenial, others were skilled but -sullen and grudging in their service, some again -would be keen and willing and showed the pathetic -eagerness of a newcomer to inquire as to rules, to -be friendly with her fellow-prisoners, to court the -approval or advice of the wardresses. But such -liveliness was not the fashion and was always -repressed. One could watch the light and spirit of -these human beings wane, as a lamp wanes for want -of oil. Sometimes many days would go by without -opportunity for the smallest communication with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -ordinary prisoners, then again there would be -occasions of unexpected good luck. Once when -emptying a basin at the sink a little woman, newcomer, -who was dusting the top of the walls and -fittings with a long-handled broom, came close up -behind me. In prison one seems to develop eyes -at the back of one’s head and that kind of cunning -which is engendered in human beings and animals -who are much restricted. I realised that no official -eye for the moment was upon us. The splashing of -the tap covered the sound of our low voices; without -looking round, without changing expression or -gesture so as not to arouse suspicion, the following -conversation took place. <em>Self</em>: “The dust collects -quickly here, doesn’t it?” <em>Prisoner</em>: “Yes, how -long have you got?” (The invariable first question -for all prisoners.) <em>Self</em>: “A month.” <em>Prisoner</em>: -“I’m on remand for a week.” <em>Self</em>: “What is it -for?” <em>Prisoner</em>: “Attempted suicide.” <em>Self</em>: -“Poor you. Why did you do that?” <em>Prisoner</em>: -“Well, I had a pot of trouble and I thought it was -the quickest way out.” <em>Self</em>: “I remember feeling -like that too, once, but I don’t now.” <em>Prisoner</em>: -“And nor do I now, life’s sweet while it lasts, isn’t -it?” This with a beaming smile. We had meanwhile -exchanged furtive glances at each other. She -had a round, rose-like face, with a look of abundant -health and kindliness. Apparently, the “pot of -trouble” had been of no long duration. <em>Self</em>: “It -seems odd to send people here for suicide?” -<em>Prisoner</em> (eagerly): “Yes, it does indeed. It seems -a shame.” Then, with some hesitation, “What -are you in for?” <em>Self</em>: “Suffragette.” She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -looked at me wonderingly, as if she supposed this to -be the technical term for some form of vice unknown -to her, though her sympathy and respect were not -withdrawn. We were, however, interrupted at this -point and I was summoned to return with my much -scrubbed basin to the ward. I never saw the little -rose-like face again.</p> - -<p>Beside the sink there was a tiny sash window about -the level of my head. When this was open I could -catch sight of the yard where remand prisoners -exercised. I was surprised to see that many of -them wore prison dress. This meant either that -they had been made to change their clothes, or that -remand and convicted prisoners were exercising -together. Seeing a great number of prisoners in a -group was a most depressing sight. They were -packed quite close, touching each other as they went -round the narrow asphalt path in single file. They -nearly all of them looked ill. Their faces wore an -expression of extreme dejection; the lifeless, listless -way they walked, enhanced the look of entire -detachment of one from the other; in spite of being -so closely herded, each seemed in a world of her own -individual sorrow. Anxiety, suffering, bitterness, -and a harrowing tale of want or degradation was told -by the clothes of those not in prison dress. The -procession was more heartrending than anything -my imagination could have conceived; it took -away my breath to look at them. Why are they -there? What has driven these poor wrecks into -this harbour? What is being done for them here -to give them courage, self-reliance, hope, belief in -better possibilities for themselves and their children,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -opportunity to mend their own lives, better conditions -of work, fairer payment, and above all a -more honourable recognition of their services as -women, of their needs, and of their rights; the -vitality to fight for their own welfare against unjust -handicaps, prejudiced ignorance of their wants -and tyrannous repression of their attempts to cry -out for wider labour markets?</p> - -<p>We of the remand hospital No. 2 most often -exercised in this same yard in the afternoon. We -were only about six in number, sometimes only two -or three, but, since seeing the procession of the -morning, their personalities seemed to haunt the -yard. I thought of them as beads of a necklace, -detached, helpless and useless, and wondered how -long it would be before they were threaded together -by means of the women’s movement into a great -organised band, self-expressive yet co-ordinated, -and ruled by the bond of mutual service. The test -of a chain’s strength is in its weakest link. Where -is our chain weakest? Not in the wretched victims -who daily paced this yard, not in the debtor, the -drunkard, the thief, the hooligan, the prostitute, the -child murderer. These miseries were mostly the -direct outcome of harmful and unjust laws. Amongst -the few that remain of spontaneously criminal type, -their number is insignificant, their influence negligible; -they act as cautions rather than instigators, -although they call for all the remedial forces -which the State or individuals can devote to them. -They themselves are diseased exceptions, but they -belong to groups of women, home workers, wage -earners, skilled craftswomen, who have kept alight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -the old traditions of serviceableness, utility, and the -powers of women. They have already made many -efforts to unite and to preserve their nobility of -independence. They, moreover, are quick to respond -and eager to serve the modern women’s movement. -No, the weakest link in the chain of womanhood is -the woman of the leisured class. Isolated and -detached, she has but little sense of kinship with -other women. For her there is no bond of labour, -no ties of mutual service; her whole life is spent in -the preservation of appearances, and she seems -hardly ever to probe down to the bone of realities. -Child-having remains her glory, the one bit of full-livedness -in an otherwise most arid desert. This is -the one basis on which she feels herself united to -other women, and the wrongs and sufferings of child-bearers -stand out as the exception on which you can -sometimes get her to move on behalf of other women. -Until these women can be educated as to the lives of -the bulk of women, brought up against the laws with -regard to them that now disgrace the statute book, -made to feel the horror of custom which still undermines -their own existence, and to burst through the -gilded bars which hold their own lives in bondage, -they act upon the social organism in a way that is -almost wholly harmful. Only when their eyes have -been opened will their “influence” and “example” -bear out a reasonable meaning of those words and -their position of privilege make them worthy to lead.</p> - -<p>As I had watched the prisoners I saw before me a -counter-procession of women of this leisured class, -herded as I have so often seen them at ball-rooms -and parties, enduring the labours, the penalties, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -futile, superficial, sordidly useless lives, quarrelling -in their marriage market, revelling in their petty -triumphs, concerned continually with money, yielding -all opinion to social exigencies, grovelling to those -they consider above them, despising and crushing -those they think beneath them, pretending to be -lovers of art and intellect, but concerned at heart -only with the appearance of being so. Subservient -to a superficial morality, tested not by the question, -“What has been done?” but “What is the general -opinion about what has been done?” And immediately -the procession of Holloway yard seemed -human, dignified, almost enviable by the side of that -other. It is these leisured women the women’s -movement has hitherto cast aside. They are the -dross, the dead fruit. All others have responded in -some way, however feeble their power of service, -when they have heard the call; but these have not. -As I thought of them my pity moved from the procession -in Holloway to these other women. Success -is impossible for a social system that takes no heed -to its outcasts, the pathological victims of national -existence are the symptoms which can lead us to -diagnose its fundamental flaws. Whether or not -the women alive to-day in the ruling class can be -cured is of comparatively little importance, but -clearly the causes which have brought them forth -must be altered at the root. The conditions which -go to produce a ruling caste are shifting their ground -throughout the world. Such things are moulded by -involuntary forces; they cannot, except in the -immediate future, be foreshadowed or decreed. But -it is now obvious that, whatever this basis, women<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -must have a fair and honourable share in it. Rulers -of the best are not reared by bondwomen. The -bi-sexual powers must be released at all costs in -those sections of the community which, whether by -intellect, by birth, or by wealth, have the guiding -reins of national life in their hands. The question -of what that basis shall be is an altogether separate -matter. Who can turn the force of our women’s -movement in that direction, who can be a missionary -to preach war in their peace-bedeadened country? -The answer that came to me in Holloway, and ever -since it has seemed to me the only answer, was this—the -example of working class organisations, and -above all, of those few splendid women who have -given their lives to lead this movement. Where -doctrine, precept and example all fail to penetrate, -the spirit of sacrifice, which wakes an echo in all -human hearts, will find a way.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="VIII" title="CHAPTER VIII. “A TRACK TO THE WATER’S EDGE”">CHAPTER <abbr title="8">VIII</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">“A TRACK TO THE WATER’S EDGE”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">On</span> March 2, as a result of my pleading to be dismissed -from the hospital, I was put to sleep in a -separate cell along the passage of our ward. This -cell had a floor of unpolished wooden boards, contained -a fixed iron bedstead, movable washing stand -furnished with tin utensils, a wooden chair, a square -plank fixed to the wall near the door as a table, and -a corner shelf under the window to hold Bible, -prayer and hymn book, prayer card, list of rules, -salt cellar, toilet paper, slate and slate pencil. A -small basket to contain my clothes was kept under -the bed. A bell near the door communicated with -the outer passage. The cell was lit by a thickly -barred window of small panes of glass, having in the -centre a box-like apparatus, with a lid, opened by a -rope pulley to let in the air without enabling one to -see out, as in church windows. There was a grating -ventilator below the window. In the wall of the -cell giving on to the passage was a glazed aperture, -through which the cell was lighted at night from a -gas-jet, as in the “reception” cell. Besides the -heavily metalled door, these hospital cells had iron -gates, so that the door could be left open when -patients had to be watched. At eight o’clock the -night wardress went her rounds, lifting the spy hole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -and shouting through the door “All right?” to -which the prisoners have to answer “Yes.” If they -are asleep, the question is repeated until they wake -and answer it. The gas was then lowered to a light -by which it would have been difficult to read, but not -extinguished. It was explained to me afterwards, -when I pleaded for darkness, that I was an “observation” -case on account of my “serious heart disease.” -The luxury of privacy after five nights and days of -unrelieved publicity seemed very great, and as soon -as this last “inspection” was over my imagination -conjured up into my presence every friend I have -ever had, including my dog who died twenty years -ago. I held intercourse with them, “dreamed -true,” and had a happy time. I then rolled round -and gave myself up to perfect sleep.</p> - -<p>After, as it seemed, a very short night, I woke -with a start and a feeling of great horror. I supposed -I had had a bad dream, but quickly realised -that the nightmare was on the waking side of my -existence. I sat up in bed. There was a sound of -footsteps which I could not at first locate or interpret. -They came nearer, clear foot-falls and a shuffling -sound in between, as if some of the feet were -reluctant and were being dragged along. Then a -voice in great distress, half shriek, half groan, that -came in broken snatches. The sounds came rapidly -nearer and grew more definite. The massive walls -of the building seemed to become thin and the doors -flimsy with the penetrating noise. I expected that -any moment these night-wanderers might enter my -cell, I supposed it was a case of delirium tremens or -madness. The footsteps stopped. A violent scuffle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -was apparently taking place. Then followed a -jangle of keys, the banging of a gate, more turning -of keys, and I realised that a frenzied woman had -been shut into the cell below mine. She immediately -seized hold of the gate and shook it so that it rattled -on its hinges, suggesting almost more than human -strength. The wolf-like barking sounds of her voice -turned into a human yell as she screamed out, -“Nurse! Nurse! Let me out.” It seemed a most -reasonable remark. The words broke the spell of -horror and woke instead my intensest sympathy. -She was expressing the one desire that is constantly -uppermost in prisoners’ minds, the walls echoed it -as a thought most familiar to them. The gate -shivered unceasingly under her onslaught as she -hurled herself against it, and her words came at -intervals, “Nurse! Nurse! Open the gate.” The -sounds suggested in turn madness, fury, despair. I -strained to interpret and understand, but there was -no clue. I yearned to console her. Presently footsteps -came outside my door, a rattling of keys and -locks, my door was burst open and a wardress I had -not seen before put her head in, saying, “I thought -you might be startled.” Her face was inflexible and -revealed nothing. I threw out questions, “Was it -a maternity case?” “Was she ill?” “Why was -she so wild?” but the door was slammed to without -any answer being given. However, even this -attention was a relief and unfroze my blood a little. -I wondered if the other prisoners, if the poor distracted -woman herself in the cell below, had been -offered as much consolation.</p> - -<p>I was kept in bed that morning until after the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -rounds of inspection. The Governor was very civil. -He urged me to give the required assurance and bind -myself over “to be of good behaviour,” that I might -leave the prison. He asked if I had “considered” -my mother. I have no doubt he thought it his -duty to talk in this way, and probably he was trying -to be kind as well. At the time, however, his -insinuation seemed more like a blow in the face. -The words rushed to my lips: “If you knew my -Mother, if you had seen her only once, you would -know that it was impossible to risk causing her -anxiety without immensely considering it,” but I -restrained myself and merely said: “I am not the -only woman here who has a mother.” I remembered -that when Mrs. Pankhurst had been imprisoned -she had been punished for exchanging a few words -with her daughter. The Governor then brought out -a stethoscope to examine my heart. This was surprising, -as I had not realised that he was a doctor. -He urged tonics, but did not insist. Eventually I -consented to take maltine and a banana after the -mid-day meal, as they were distressed that I was so -thin.</p> - -<p>The shrieks and cries from the cell below had -grown less towards morning, but they were renewed -at intervals throughout the day. When I went -into the general ward the horror of the night was -still hanging over my companions. A wardress told -one of us that the woman had killed her child and -been put into the condemned cell after being sentenced -to be hanged. After my release it was -officially stated that the woman who had been -sentenced to death for baby-murder had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -perfectly quiet and that the “condemned cell” was -in a part of the prison far removed from the remand -hospital. The shrieks we had heard were those of a -mad woman, under remand for larceny, who had -since been removed to a workhouse infirmary. The -distressful cries went on intermittently for several -days, after which they lapsed into groans like those -of the dying. My longing to communicate with her -became at moments almost unendurable. I hoped -she would die; she seemed too far gone in distress -for any other remedy. One morning before it was -light I thought I heard the throaty sound of the -death rattle from her cell. After that she was -removed, whether dead or alive I could never find -out until after my release.</p> - -<p>I went into the general ward for the greater part -of the day. I made my bed and dusted my cell, -but was not allowed to wash the floor or clean the -tin utensils because of my “heart disease.” The -quieter nights enabled me to eat more food, and I -think I gained in weight and became generally -restored to quite normal health. It was obvious -that no ordinary prisoner nor Suffragette prisoner -would, in my state of health, have been put in -hospital, and that I was being kept there either to -give me a soft time or for some other impenetrable -reason. I told the Senior Medical Officer that unless -I were allowed to the “other side” I should feel -obliged to protest by means which he would probably -regret when it was too late. He looked very much -alarmed, but my threat produced no practical -result. I then asked leave to petition the Home -Secretary, a right allowed to all prisoners. Blue<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -official paper, ink and a pen were brought to my -cell, only one sheet of paper being allowed, but it -was a large one. I forget the wording of my letter. -I stated that I had been rather severely knocked -about by the police while on a peaceable Deputation -to the House of Commons to petition that, when the -accepted conditions for which voting rights are -granted have been fulfilled the vote should follow, -in the case of women as of men, a claim which he, -the Home Secretary himself, and a majority of the -Cabinet and House of Commons had recognised as -just. That I therefore was grateful for the privilege -of being placed in hospital during the first few days, -where the careful and kindly treatment of the officials -and excellent food had quickly restored me to my -normal health. I told how I had asked permission -to join my companions in the cells, but hitherto had -asked in vain. I explained that the cell routine of -floor scrubbing, tin polishing, etc., would be no -exceptional exertion in my case, since I was an -amateur scrubber, having patronised that craft in -much the same spirit in which other unemployed -women took up water-colour drawing or hand-embroidery. -I found that my fellow prisoners -were kept in the cells when much more seriously ill -than I was, and I was driven reluctantly to the conclusion -that the preferential treatment meted out to -me was for no better reason than that I had influential -friends whose criticism, if my health should -suffer in prison, was feared by the authorities. I -resented such favouritism on the part of officials, -both as a Liberal in politics, as a believer in the -teachings of Christ, and as a woman, and if the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -special treatment of my case continued I should -feel bound on my release to make it known from -every platform of our campaign throughout the -country. I found there was a tradition amongst -prisoners that petitions to the Home Secretary were -always in vain. As I put forward a moderate and -reasonable request, consistent with the prison -regulations, I hoped it would serve as an instance -for proving this tradition to be false. This letter, -perhaps, gave a slightly coloured version of the -hospital <i>régime</i>, but I knew that, in spite of their -aims to the contrary, officials are human, and that -if I could express some sort of praise that was fairly -justified, my letter would be more likely to reach -the higher dignitaries and be attended to by them. -Perhaps, I thought, the combination of a very -reasonable request with an allowance of judicious -flattery might even result in the request being -granted.</p> - -<p>The following day I noticed a peculiar and welcome -expression on the faces of various officials as of a -smile hidden behind the mask, plainly indicating -that my letter had been read in Holloway, however -much the valentine might be destined for waste-paper -basket furniture at the Home Office. I piled -on my good behaviour and ate as much food as I -could, to conciliate the prison authorities. On the -third day following I received a written answer, a -formal statement that my petition had been received, -but that the Home Secretary did not see his way to -granting it. This led to further altercations with -the Governor and doctor. They insisted that the -cell <i>regime</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> would be too severe for me. I replied -that unless they allowed me to experience it for -myself I should probably carry away an exaggerated -version of the hardships imposed on my companions. -They pleaded that my exceptional physique and -heart disease required “rest.” I answered that -prison was not a “rest cure” and that in the case of -my fellow prisoners, more especially of Miss Lawless -and Mrs. Meredith Macdonald, no such reverend -attention had been paid to their physical needs. -Every day I put forward the request and argued the -point, always in vain. I felt that the time had come -to carry out my threat. My mind brooded on what -form it should take, but for various reasons it had to -be deferred. I had contracted the cold which was -rampant in the ward. The prisoner’s handkerchief, -a duster hanging from the waist of the skirt which -did service for a week, was an inevitable conveyer of -infection. This forbidding form of handkerchief -became doubly a trial with a cold in the head. I -used when at exercise to hold it out as I walked, in -the style of a bull-fighting matador, in order to dry -it and shake it out, and I used toilet paper in its -stead whenever opportunity offered, but no efforts -could counteract the disgusting overuse and exposure -of the duster. I determined not to press -my request to go to the cells while there was any -rational excuse for keeping me in hospital. When -my cold was wearing off I had the misfortune to -meet with an accident and cut myself with some -broken crockery. This necessitated bandaging, and -again I put off my threat. The days went by -with unvarying monotony. Although I had known -for several weeks of my decision to go on the Deputa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>tion -and had full time to prepare for a likely -imprisonment, I was continually remembering some -concern of my home life, the wheels of which would -be getting clogged in my absence. At first these -thoughts were very worrying and kept my mind -continually on the fret at my inability to communicate -with the outside world, but the realisation -of one’s helplessness gradually subdued these desires. -One day, however, I heard from a more experienced -“gaol-bird” that permission to write a letter was -sometimes granted if “on business.” I promptly -determined to try for this privilege, since it had been -granted to other Suffragists. I chose a matter -connected with the village in which I lived, so that -the fact of my being “all right,” as the cell inspectors -put it, might be conveyed to my mother. I asked -leave to write to the Rector’s wife about a flower -show committee of which I was secretary. Leave was -granted. I was asked to confine myself exclusively -to the “business” for which permission had been -given; the luxury of writing it was nevertheless -very great. Later on I was allowed to write a second -letter to a friend on the Stock Exchange who manages -my money affairs. I wanted some money for a -prisoner friend who was to be released before me. -Cheque books were, of course, not available in prison, -and although a letter to my banker would probably -have been sufficient, I thought a personal friend -would be more likely to let the news of my continued -“all right”-ness filter through to my mother, although -I was not allowed to send a definite message. There -seemed, too, something attractive in addressing a -letter direct from Holloway to the Stock Exchange,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -as I did not know my friend’s private address. This -letter, of course, required an answer which I was -allowed to receive and keep. The rule for prisoners -is that letters addressed to them by a spontaneous -correspondence from outside are forbidden, but if -permission is granted to a prisoner to write a letter -which requires an answer, that answer can be -received and kept. This answer was about the -money I had asked for, duly enclosed, and contained -also a casual reference to a remote relative. “I -suppose you have heard that X. has been down -with influenza.” Evidently the writer assumed that -I had been carrying on my correspondence as usual. -I ungratefully wished that if I was to be allowed -news of the outside world it might have been an -item connected with my more immediate belongings. -But the letter gave me a pleasure difficult to -describe, bringing, as it did, a ventilating whiff of -ordinary human, free existence into prison life. I -clung to every particle of it, envelope and all, and -generally carried it about in my clothes for fear it -should be destroyed while I was out of my cell; no -love-letter was ever more watchfully guarded by a -girl of sixteen. It, of course, had been opened and -read before it was delivered to me.</p> - -<p>I pleaded that as the cell prisoners were allowed a -change of vegetables, cabbage, onions, haricot beans, -succeeding each other in turn at the midday meal, -the hospital patients might be allowed the same, -anyhow the bed patients, to whom the daily cabbage -became extremely distasteful through monotony. -The medical officer who took the inspection rounds -that morning was not favourable to petitions of this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -kind. He answered gruffly, “If you were given -the variety, depend upon it you’d be petitioning -before long to be put back on one kind only,” and the -daily cabbage continued. But one gets used to -snubs in prison and before long I tried again. For -three days in succession we had been given salt -butter of a rather rancid kind, instead of fresh butter -as had been supplied before. I kept a small sample -of it in a saucer and showed it to the Senior Medical -Officer when he came round. This man, according -to my experience, was uniformly obliging, just as if -he had been an ordinary man and not a prison -official. He did not scoff, but took the saucer in his -hands and marched out of the ward with it, saying: -“I think I had better see to this myself.” We were -not given salt butter again. Emboldened by this -success when next he came I put the vegetable -question before him. He said nothing, but from that -time forward we were given a change every day.</p> - -<p>One day there was a stir in the atmosphere owing -to an unusual event, the fortnightly visit of the -Visiting Magistrates was due. This was an opportunity -for prisoners to air their grievances. Experience -had taught us that, at any rate as regards -Suffragettes, prison officials and Visiting Magistrates -were one and the same authority, indeed prison -officials, Prison Commissioners, Home Office, police, -and police Magistrates, all played to the same tune -as conducted by the attitude of the Government, and -we knew that there was no tribunal of an independent -character to which we could make appeal. -Nevertheless, as a matter of principle, we left no -stone unturned to get injustice redressed by con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>stitutional -means. Among the hospital patients -there were several cases of glaring injustice. The -false charge before mentioned on which Mrs. Duval -(Freedom League) had been arrested and sentenced -to six weeks’ imprisonment. Mrs. Pethick Lawrence’s -sentence of two months when other second -offenders in the same Deputation were given only -four weeks and some six, and when Mrs. Despard, -also a prominent leader, had been sentenced to -only one month (second imprisonment) and released -after one week “on medical grounds,” her health at -the time being excellent. Finally, the disgraceful -medical diagnosis and treatment of Mrs. Macdonald -after her accident in the yard. Mrs. Macdonald and -Mrs. Duval were unable to leave their beds to appear -before the Magistrates. Mrs. Macdonald decided not -to appeal on her own behalf. The Magistrates were -not medical men and an appeal against the doctor -would have been useless and perhaps would have -aroused fresh prejudice against her. She was -allowed to send a written communication suggesting -some excellent reforms on general lines for prison -management.</p> - -<p>That afternoon, when I was locked into my cell, at -an unexpected hour a wardress ushered in a gentleman, -apparently an official, whom I had not seen -before. I expected him to order my dress to be -opened and to begin stethoscoping my heart—that -was the usual procedure when a male official appeared. -Instead he stood before me and said with -some dignity: “I am Sir Alfred Reynolds.” The -name conveyed nothing to me, so I did not answer, -but merely bowed. He went on to ask if I wanted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -anything, to say he might be seeing Lord Lytton -soon and did I want any message conveyed to him or -to my home. The sense of bewilderment which -prisoners feel when the unusual happens, breaking -into the monotonous routine of their lives without -explanation, overcame me. I did not know with what -object the stranger put these questions, the wildest -interpretations rushed through my mind—that the -authorities were seeking some fresh excuse to -release me, that my home people had heard some -untrue report and were in a panic, that there was -some underlying purpose connected with my fellow -prisoners, to which I had no clue. My instinct was -to be on my guard, and to shield myself against -intrusion. I answered coldly that I was “All right, -thank you,” and that I had no messages to send. -That evening I was told that this gentleman was one -of the Visiting Magistrates. After my release I -realised that he was a neighbour in our county of -Hertfordshire and knew my brother. It was very -kind of him to visit me in that considerate way and -I much regret that I did not respond to his friendliness -at the time.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lawrence put her case, guarded by a wardress, -standing before the seated board of Magistrates. -They had nothing to say in explanation or defence -of her sentence, but offered no redress.</p> - -<p>On Friday, March 12, I had an unexpected and -altogether delightful surprise. In the afternoon I -was summoned out of the ward and taken across the -yard. Was I being changed to the other side? A -deliriously joyful thought suggested itself, could it -be a visitor? I had already had my due in this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -respect, but several visitors were occasionally -allowed to prisoners. Since privileges towards me -were the order of the day it was a possibility. I -was shown into the same “solicitor’s” room as -before; this time it was empty. I was left in charge -of a wardress I had not seen before; she was very -amiable. I felt quite distraught with the unusual -excitement, and with the torrent of questions that -ramped through my brain. Although I had had no -reason to expect another visitor, I had recently -longed for one with accelerated zest because of the -patient with the injured leg. I had grown daily -more exasperated over the attitude of the authorities -towards her case, and felt that the seeming -brutality on their part was probably due to an -official inability to realise all that it entailed to -this suffering woman, that if only one could get the -facts known outside the prison a reconsideration -might bring about the granting of some of the very -moderate requests she had made with regard to her -release, and also by exposure of her treatment -make it unlikely that physically injured prisoners -should be subject to the same hardships in future. -She was a woman of abnormal courage, and in spite -of her crippled condition was planning to go straight -home by rail to Marlow on the day of her release. -She did not keep a servant; her three children who -had been cared for by friends were to return with -her. It seemed to me she was unfit for her ordinary -life and I was most anxious that she should see a -surgeon before attempting the journey by rail. I -urged her, too, to make some arrangement for being -nursed in her own house or to go for a while to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -“home” or hospital. For all these matters it was -imperative that she should see her husband and -discuss possible plans with him. She asked leave -of the Governor to write to him. This was refused -unless she obtained a permit from the Home Secretary. -It took three days to write to and obtain an -answer from the Home Office. When the reply -came, permission was granted to write to her husband, -but no mention was made as to his visiting her. -The prison authorities would not allow this without -a further permit from the Home Office. There was -no time to receive and act upon this before her -release. When I compared such treatment of an -urgently needful situation with my own, the ease -with which I obtained leave direct from the prison -authorities to write two letters, one of them of no -particular importance, and the ease with which two -of my relatives had been allowed to visit me, I felt -exasperated. The action of the authorities made -no pretence at inflexible, even-handed justice, and -the partiality shown was all on behalf of the prisoner -who needed it least.</p> - -<p>After a few minutes, to my surprise and intense -delight, my eldest brother was shown in. He gave -me good news of those at home. Before long I was -pouring out to him the facts and my pent-up commentary -concerning Mrs. Macdonald, in spite of -frequent protests from the wardress, who exclaimed -from time to time that it was against the rules to -make communications to outsiders about fellow-prisoners -or the prison authorities. This time I was -careful not to reprove my loved visitor for anything, -and before our all-too-short interview came to an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -end I was able to send a message to my sister to -make good my regrets about her visit.</p> - -<p>The variety of leniency of the different officials, -and of the same officials on different days, gave a -certain savour of adventure to the dreariness of -prison life. Here are two instances of the brighter -side. Mrs. Lawrence and I were one afternoon -allowed to walk up and down the length of the ward -side by side talking in low voices. She told me -about the early days of the militant movement and -supplemented my book-study of that miraculous -fairy tale in which I was now privileged to take part. -As I listened and reproached myself continually -with the thought, “Women had all this to face and -I was not helping them,” there seemed a positive -charm in the trials of imprisonment—the suffering -about my home people, the grim sights and sounds -of our surroundings, the rudeness of prison officers, -the physical discomforts of unaccustomed clothing, -thunder-stuffed pillows, etc. Now that I passed -the nights in a cell and came into the ward only for -meals and part of the day, I noticed with keener -insight how remarkably the atmosphere of leadership -clung round Mrs. Pethick Lawrence. Her -clothes and the disciplined routine were exactly the -same in her case as in ours, she conformed to all the -rules and seemed to adapt herself to the life as if it -had been of her choice and not imposed upon her. -Yet the authority, and above all, the wisdom in her -personality seemed to shine out more prominently -even than they did in free life when she was controlling -the many departments of the office at -Clement’s Inn for which she was responsible, or of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -the public movement from a platform. Everyone -came to her for advice, even the prison officers -seemed instinctively to refer matters to her. It -was, for once, quite intelligible why they had separated -her from the bulk of the Suffragist prisoners -by putting her in hospital. It was obvious that her -control over them would far outweigh the authority -of prison rules and rulers should she choose to exert -it. The reason given, however, was that she too -was suffering from heart disease, but this medical -verdict did not prevent her being sent to the cells, -where the full prison labour of floor washing and -tin polishing was exacted of her, as soon as our -shorter sentences had expired and she was left to -finish her unjustifiably longer term in solitude.</p> - -<p>Another unexpected privilege had been carefully -planned so that the joy of it was spread over several -days. The Freedom League prisoners were soon to -be released. We schemed a jollification to take place -on the Sunday evening before their departure. The -Sabbath day reflected national customs in prison as -outside. The morning was characterised by clean -clothing and an unusual rigidity of behaviour, but -towards the latter half of the afternoon the air of -solemnity wore away, some of the officers had an -afternoon off, bringing back with them an indefinable -sense of the outer world, and the evening hours -sometimes produced an atmosphere almost of -amiability. Much would depend on whether a -lovable wardress, who often did duty in our ward and -had shown herself invariably friendly towards us, -should be “on” or “off.” The patients, who had -increased to nine, were all of them now out of bed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -during part of the day. We were to gather round -the fire, and to tell yarns, stories or poems, as if we -were in camp in the free world. A sense of excitement -and expectancy pervaded the ward all day. -I felt as children do before a self-schemed escapade -into the dominions of forbidden joys, my delight -only slightly marred by the prospect of having to -contribute to the recitations, a performance not at -all in my line. I spent the spare moments of the day -trying to remember and write down on my slate -Coventry Patmore’s poem “The Toys.” Parts of it -had constantly floated into my mind while in Holloway -from the striking resemblance between prisoners -and children. I treasured more especially the actual -list of toys which the child, a seven times breaker of -the law, when punished and dismissed “with hard -words and unkiss’d,” had put beside his bed:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p_line_i0 quote_first">“A box of counters and a red-vein’d stone,</div> - <div class="p_line_i0">A piece of glass abraded by the beach,</div> - <div class="p_line_i0">And six or seven shells,</div> - <div class="p_line_i0">A bottle with bluebells,</div> - <div class="p_line_i0">And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art</div> - <div class="p_line_i0">To comfort his sad heart.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>When evening came after the supper meal our -little plot developed with unexpected smoothness. -The kindly wardress was in charge, activity and “inspection” -in the passage outside subsided altogether -and we were left to our own devices. What chairs -there were we set round the fire and the rest of the -company sat on the floor. An unwonted expression -of happiness beamed from the fire-lit faces of these -prison-clad individuals, drawn together from many -parts of the country and from widely-differing walks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -of life. Each one contributed her share to our -spontaneous entertainment. Even the wardress, -completely casting aside her official manner and -addressing herself deferentially to Mrs. Lawrence, -for whom she had a great admiration, told a pathetic -little story with a surprising gift of narration and -concentrated expression. I remember I had dreaded -lest one or two of the company besides myself should -not be “up” to an adequate contribution, and that -our little entertainment would be marred by those -uncomfortable moments of both conscious and -unconscious failure such as are common to “social” -gatherings, no matter where they take place. However, -everyone played up. There was great variety -in the different speakers, each in turn adding a new -element to the programme, each was good of its kind -and there was no need for pity anywhere. My friend -with the injured leg contributed a remarkable -political poem of her own making, but far the most -artistic items were given by Mrs. Lawrence. She -told us first an Arab story which she had heard from -a Dragoman sitting round a real camp fire in Egypt. -It was full of the detail dear to the East, which suited -the associations of superfluous time in our then -experience. It was intricate and humorous, lifting -our minds completely out of our present surroundings. -She was pressed for “more.” She then -repeated Olive Schreiner’s “Three Dreams in a -Desert.” I had read this allegory many years ago -when it was first published. I remember that the -painter Watts and my father had been enthusiastic -over the poetical beauty of these “Dreams.” Their -lyrical force, the imaginative woof and warp of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -parables and the dignified cadence of their language -had impressed me in my youth so that I read them -many times for sheer emotional joy, but their meaning -had evidently not penetrated to me. Olive -Schreiner, more than any one other author, has -rightly interpreted the woman’s movement and -symbolised and immortalised it by her writings. -Now after even so short an experience of the movement -as I had known, this “Dream” seemed -scarcely an allegory. The words hit out a bare -literal description of the pilgrimage of women. It -fell on our ears more like an A B C railway guide to -our journey than a figurative parable, though its -poetic strength was all the greater for that. The -woman wanderer goes forth to seek the Land of -Freedom.... <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>“‘<em>How am I to get there?’ The -old man, Reason, answers, ‘There is one way and one -only. Down the banks of Labour, through the water -of suffering. There is no other.</em>’ ... ‘Is there a -track to show where the best fording is?’ ... ‘<em>It -has to be made</em>....’ And she threw from her gladly -the mantle of ancient-received opinions she wore, for -it was worn full of holes. And she took the girdle -from her waist that she had treasured so long, and -the moths flew out of it in a cloud. And he said, -‘<em>Take the shoes of dependence off your feet.</em>’ And she -stood there naked but for one white garment that -clung close to her, the garment of Truth, which she -is told to keep. She is given a staff, Reason, ‘a -stick that curled.’ ‘<em>Take this stick, hold it fast. In -that day when it slips from your hand you are lost. Put -it down before you, where it cannot find a bottom, do -not set your foot.</em>’ The woman having discarded all -to which she had formerly clung cries out: ‘For -what do I go to this far land which no one has ever -reached? I am alone! I am utterly alone!’ -But soon she hears the sound of feet, ‘a thousand -times ten thousand and thousands of thousands and -they beat this way.’ ... ‘<em>They are the feet of those -that shall follow you.</em>’ ... ‘<em>Have you seen the locusts -how they cross a stream? First one comes down to the -water’s edge, and it is swept away, and then another -comes and then another, and at last with their bodies -piled up a bridge is built and the rest pass over.</em>’ ... -And of those that come first some are swept away, -and are heard of no more; their bodies do not even -build the bridge? ... ‘<em>What of that? They make a -track to the water’s edge.</em>’” And in the last dream she -sees in that land of Freedom where Love is no longer -a child but has grown to a man. “On the hills -walked brave women and brave men, hand in hand. -And they looked into each other’s eyes, and they -were not afraid.”</p> - -<p>We dispersed and went back to our hard beds, to -the thought of our homes, to the depressing surroundings -of fellow prisoners, to the groans and cries -of agonised women—content. As I laid my head -on the rattling pillow I surrendered my normal -attitude towards literature, and thought “There is -some point, some purpose in it after all.”</p> - -<p>Since I had left the general ward there were more -opportunities for the officers to show kindness -without being detected in “favouritism,” and I had -come to be on very good terms with several of them. -Even the ward superintendent, who made a special -hobby of outward severity, had relaxed on several<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -occasions. For instance, she stood in the doorway -one morning watching me make my bed. She -remarked, with the same outward air of contempt -that was habitual to her, but with a kindly look in -her eyes: “You’re not much used to that, I -expect?” I answered: “Do you think I do it so -badly?” She smiled and seemed distressed that I -had interpreted her that way. Her anxiety that I -should put on flesh while under her charge made her -almost motherly at times. I accounted for my -small appetite by explaining that I did not spend -myself in prison life. “Don’t know about spending -yourself, but how about your sensitiveness? -Doesn’t that ‘spend’ you?” This taunt was -because when she renewed the plasters on my cut, -which she did very skilfully, I winced a good deal. -The sticky plaster adhered closely and the process of -removing it generally made me feel faint. I didn’t -know till she said this that she had even noticed it, -but her contempt was softened by a kind smile. -I had determined to begin my strike in real earnest -the following week if I failed by reasonable pleadings -to get sent to the cells. I was anxious that the -responsibility of my bad behaviour should not fall -on her, and I wished to make very clear that I had -no malicious intentions towards her, or anyone else, -beyond giving proof to the doctors that I should be -better the “other side.” She was extremely busy -and her visits to me never lasted more than a few -seconds. I took the first opportunity to say unconcernedly -and not looking at her, but with the -hope of arousing her curiosity sufficiently for her -consent: <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>“If you should have a spare minute -before Sunday, come in to me when I am in my cell, -I want to ask you something.” She looked surprised, -but said nothing and avoided me for the rest -of the day. The following afternoon she looked in -hurriedly, saying in her most official voice: “What -is it you want?” I resented the scolding tone -and answered without humility, as one would to a -fellow-being outside, “Come near to me, I want to -speak to you, but only if you can spare the time.” I -was lying on my bed, a privilege I was allowed in the -separate cell. She came in, pushed the door to, -stood close to my bed-side and said again gruffly, -“What is it?” I reached out my hand to take -hers, but meeting with no response I drew it in -again. I did not want to get angry with the rebuffs -of her officialdom, so I kept my eyes down as I said: -“I like you because you have always treated me the -same as the others, yet you have never really been -unkind to me. I want to ask you something now, -because by Sunday either I shall have had leave to -go to the other side or I shall have begun my strike -in real earnest and you will be getting more and more -angry with me.” She stooped down and said in a -low voice of extreme tenderness as if I had been a -child: “Why, I have never been angry with you -yet.” I looked up into her eyes. They were lit -with kindliness and her whole face beamed on me -with genial goodwill. It was a surprising change. -The personality was the same, but the mask was off -and I realised something of the sacrifice it must be -to this woman continually to conceal her good -nature under so forbidding a manner. I felt more -than ever how wasteful and unreasonable is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -system which represses the natural powers of good -influence in such a woman and exacts of her, in -their stead, an attitude towards the prisoners of so -much less worth. Her kindness made my determination -to carry out my strike at all costs a much -harder job than any amount of her official hardness -and reproof would have done. If it had been for -any less object than a matter of principle I could not -have done it. “No,” I answered, “but I haven’t -yet begun my strike seriously.” I added: “I -don’t wish to discuss that now. I want you to tell -me when you could come and see us after I am out. -Mother will wish to thank you for being kind to me, -and to hear about my wicked ways from you. You -must come down to us in the country. We are on -this line and quite near London.” Her face grew -serious again, but remained without the official -mask. She shook her head. “That’s impossible,” -she said with decision, “it would be against the -rules.” “There are no prison rules for me once I -am free again, and you surely have some holidays -when you can do as you like.” “No, that would be -quite against the rules.” I pleaded afresh and with -determination. She then tried another tack, said -that she had friends of her own to visit in the little -time at her disposal. I answered she must bring -one of these with her and they would spend the day -together with us. But she would have none of it. -I said she, of course, felt obliged to rub in the rules -and regulations while I was prisoner under her -charge and that I respected her for that. It was -obvious, however, that such rules would have nothing -to do with me once I was free again, that I should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -write to her after my release, as an ordinary outsider, -and make fresh suggestions. I had in mind -several instances in which prisoners and warders -had continued friendly after release. I asked her to -give me her home address or, at least, to tell me her -Christian name, for, as several of her sisters were -also prison officers in Holloway, I did not want my -letter to go to them. She, however, would not tell -me any of these things. I asked why it would be -against the rules. She answered, “We are not -allowed to hold communication with ex-prisoners,” -and vouchsafed no further explanation. I said I -thought we Suffragettes might be looked upon as -different from the ordinary ex-prisoners. She -remained adamant. I felt fresh enmity for the -system which continually admitted variation from -its rules on the side of less kindness or for reasons of -snobbish privilege, but which showed itself rigid -and unelastic when it was a case of reasonable, -unharmful good-will. But, of course, I immensely -respected this woman’s loyalty to the system she -served and her punctilious adherence to its rules. -She had, nevertheless, let go her own voice and her -own smile just once upon me. They remained -among the joy experiences of Holloway. I wondered -if she had ever shown them to the poor woman who -screamed and groaned in the cell below mine, or to -the yellow-faced patient in the lower ward.</p> - -<p>I began my strike gently; I knocked off all diet -extras, such as the maltine and its accompanying -banana or the pudding at the mid-day meal, and -kept to the food which would be mine the other side, -viz., <em>Breakfast</em>: Brown bread, butter, milk. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span><em>Mid-day</em>: -Brown bread, potatoes, one vegetable. <em>Supper</em>: -Brown bread, butter, milk. Both doctors and -wardresses talked of the plank bed as one of the -hardships likely to be too much for me in the cells, -so I took one of the two mattresses from my bed -and slept with it on the floor. I clambered up on -the furniture and cleaned the windows of my cell to -show I could do some extra housemaiding without -harm. The first night of my floor-bed I was left -undisturbed. The second night, at the time of the -“All right?” rounds, the hospital superintendent -came in. To my surprise she was not angry, did -not scold. She asked quite gently and interestedly -why I was lying on the floor. “Because the doctors -suggest that I would get ill or die if I laid on a -wooden bed instead of an iron one, so I am just -showing that I can manage it all right; I am very -comfortable, thanks.” But she didn’t go away. -The cell, of course, was small, the fixed bedstead -down the centre of it taking up most of the floor-room, -so I had laid the mattress cross-ways under -the bed, my head sticking out on one side, my feet -on the other. The wardress suggested that if I -woke suddenly in the night I might hit and hurt -myself against the bed. I assured her that sleep in -Holloway was not of a kind heavy enough to wake -from it unconsciously. It was true I had enjoyed -such a sleep one night, the first in my private cell, -but the ghastly sounds of human desperation and -suffering by which it had been broken had driven -away sound sleep for the remainder of my imprisonment. -At last she went away. The following -night she again came and argued about the bed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -She said she would worry lest harm should happen -while she was responsible for me and it would drive -away her own rest. I respected her for at last using -a sensible form of argument, but for the moment -I did not relent. When she had gone, however, I -managed by judicious shifting of the movable furniture -to find room for the mattress along the wall with -my head behind the door. I rang my bell, the night -wardress appeared. Peremptory fashion, I sent her -with an invitation to the superintendent to come -again if she had not yet gone to bed. The wardress -positively laughed at my effrontery, but evidently -delivered my message, for in a few minutes my friend -the superintendent returned. She tried to look -severe, but a broad grin enveloped her face when she -saw my new contrivance. “However much I -jump about now, I can’t hurt myself. Will you be -able to sleep all right?” I asked. She said she -would try, and left me.</p> - -<p>My continued appeals to the authorities to treat -me as they did my fellow-prisoners and not keep me -in hospital now that I was in normal health, having -proved unavailing, I entered upon the last phase of -my strike. I had decided to write the words “Votes -for Women” on my body, scratching it in my skin -with a needle, beginning over the heart and ending -it on my face. I proposed to show the first half of -the inscription to the doctors, telling them that as I -knew how much appearances were respected by -officials, I thought it well to warn them that the last -letter and a full stop would come upon my cheek, and -be still quite fresh and visible on the day of my -release. My difficulty was to find suitable tools.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -My skin proved much tougher than I had expected -and the small needle supplied to me for sewing -purposes was quite inadequate. I procured another -and stronger one for darning my stockings, but -neither of them produced the required result. I -thought of a hairpin but had only three left of these -precious articles and could not make up my mind to -spare one. I had the good luck, however, while -exercising, to find one, the black enamel of which was -already partially worn off. I cleaned and polished -it with a stone under my cloak as I walked the round. -The next morning before breakfast I set to work in -real earnest and, using each of these implements in -turn, I succeeded in producing a very fine V just over -my heart. This was the work of fully twenty -minutes, and in my zeal I made a deeper impression -than I had intended. The scratch bled to a certain -extent. I had no wish for a blood-poisoning sequel, -and, fearing the contact with the coarse prison -clothes, when the wardress came to fetch me for -breakfast I asked her for a small piece of lint and -plaster. On a previous occasion I had been allowed -these without further inquiry, when the frosty -weather, cold water, and lack of gloves had produced -a sore on my hand. But this time the -superintendent herself appeared and refused to -produce the dressing without hearing for what -purpose it was required. I was anxious to proceed -further with my inscription before letting the -authorities know of it, fearing that it was not yet -sufficient to be imposing and that all tools might be -taken from me. However, thanks to our previous -conversations, my friend was suspicious. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -ordered me to show the scratch. She looked very -much startled on seeing it and asked how it had -happened. I explained. She at first did not know -how to take it, but evidently did not think it a laughing -matter, to my great relief, for I hoped this meant -the misdeed was grave enough to suggest to the -authorities that I was becoming an awkward customer -in hospital. She was restrained in manner, -but looked rather angry as she solemnly applied a -large piece of lint and many plasterings which, to my -delight, gave the scratch a quite imposing look, as if -half my chest had been hacked open. So that no -blame should fall on her, I gave her all the information -for which she asked and the incriminating tools -were gathered together as if they had been witnesses -in a detective case. After breakfast I was summoned -into the presence of the Governor and given -a scolding, but no sentence of punishment was -passed and I remained in doubt as to whether my -evil deed had been sufficiently impressive. Later -on I was taken down to the Senior Medical Officer. -Scolding was not in his line and the official requirements -of the occasion were evidently effortful to -him, but his laborious sermon of reproofs was all the -more punitive on that account. As he had invariably -been kind to me and civil to all other prisoners, -I was sorry to have to vex him. I reminded him of -the warning I had previously given and how often I -had patiently renewed my request in a reasonable -way before having recourse to these stronger -measures. Of course he had to pretend that he saw -not the remotest connection between his refusal to -let me leave hospital and my “outrageous” conduct<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -of the morning. He and the ward superintendent, -who ushered me into his presence and exposed the -scratched “V” for his inspection, were evidently -much put out. I felt all a craftsman’s satisfaction -in my job. The V was very clearly and evenly -printed in spite of the varying material of its background, -a rib bone forming an awkward bump. As -I pointed out to the doctor, it had been placed -exactly over the heart, and visibly recorded the -pulsation of that organ as clearly as a watch hand, -so that he no longer need be put to the trouble of the -stethoscope. I also explained how useful the mark -would be at the inquest, to which he had alluded, -when they wanted quickly to extract the heart in -proof that its “serious disease” was responsible -for my demise and not the prison regimen. But he -was not in a mood for chaff and became more and -more distraught as to how to deal with the situation. -At last he hit on a brilliant idea and said, “If you go -on like this we shall have to dismiss you from the -prison altogether.” I could have congratulated -him with both hands for this really understanding -remark. It was obvious that such a sentence -wouldn’t at all meet with my aims, and would -secure my return to good behaviour if anything -could. He had effectively checkmated me, at any -rate for the moment. I promptly capitulated and -capped this suggestion by saying: “I think I had -better be sent back to the general ward; I seem -to give a lot of extra trouble in the separate cell.” -The superintendent wardress exclaimed with gusto, -“Yes, you do,” and the doctor jumped at the -suggestion. As there were now only ten days before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -our release I had decided to push through my efforts -to get to the cells regardless of all else, but I was -exceedingly anxious about the patient with the -injured leg. Her release was due, with other members -of the Freedom League, the next day (Wednesday, -March 17). I had a feeling that I could to a -certain degree watch over her welfare and was to -this extent glad of the opportunity to return to the -hospital. While waiting for the hospital gate to be -unlocked a small gang of ordinary prisoners had for -some reason or another congregated in the passage -and blocked the way. My friend, the superintendent, -took the opportunity to give me a severe scolding -in their presence. Now that the extent of my -criminality had been duly notified and received, as it -were, official recognition, her pent up indignation let -fly and she gave me a regular dressing down. She -did not, of course, allude to the nature of my crime; -this was left to the imagination of the onlookers, but, -as on all other occasions of the kind that I can recall, -the sympathy of prisoners turns automatically to a -fellow-prisoner, not to the officials. Intercourse by -means of speech being forbidden, the language of the -eyes becomes perfected. Inquiry, interest, fellow-feeling, -loyalty, encouragement, sympathy of the -best, all these emotions are expressed in prisoners’ -eyes in a way that outbids the meaning of words and -the intonations of the voice. I respected this superintendent -as before, because of the impartiality with -which she treated me, but this example of public -reproof before other prisoners was typical of the -way this sort of prison discipline defeats its own -ends.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Macdonald was still suffering acutely. She -had been taken out of the ward for the injury to be -photographed by X-rays. She was carried up and -down the stairs, as before, in a chair with no rest for -the feet. She had been told that the photographs -had not been distinct and left them “none the wiser,” -but “Depend upon it,” said the doctor, “you had -better keep moving about as much as you can.” -The prison authorities recognised that she was unfit -to travel by rail. As she had no home in London -and could not afford to rent rooms, they proposed -sending her to a hospital. For various reasons, the -thought of an ordinary public hospital was extremely -repellent to her. The prison officials now -discussed the matter with her and seemed to show a -certain amount of interest and even kindness towards -her.</p> - -<p>My wound being the nominal ground on which I -had been returned to hospital, it had to be treated -with official respect. The ward superintendent told -me she would come and inspect it the last thing -before she went to bed herself. I looked forward to -this opportunity of pacifying her displeasure with -me, but when she came she was already in her most -benignant mood. My chief concern was to inquire -her view as to my chances of ever being sent to the -other side. “They’ll never send you out of hospital, -nothing you can do will make any difference, so -what’s the use of going on trying?” In some -mysterious way this despairing speech of hers put -new mettle into me, and I determined I would renew -my attempts. To reassure her with regard to my -villainous intentions I told her that the doctor had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -hit on a really effective deterrent by threatening to -turn me out of prison. “That’s what you deserve,” -she said, severely, but with something of a wink. -“So you think,” I retorted.</p> - -<p>The hospital atmosphere soon drew my thoughts -away from my strike and its object. Several of the -patients were less restless than when I had last been -amongst them. The night wardress with the hacking -cough had been changed. The sick patients had -agreed to make no complaints for fear they should -get her into trouble or perhaps be given a more -disagreeable wardress in her place. But when our -numbers had been increased by a patient who was in -fairly vigorous health but for the most painful -neuritis in her arm, she found the continuous disturbance -of her all too precious sleep intolerable and -she reported the wardress’s cough to the doctor. We -were then all questioned and had to admit the fact, -whereupon we were given another night wardress. -This one, as had been feared, was more rigid in her -ways and interpreted the absurdly inhuman prison -regulations literally. For instance, one night a -patient who was quite incapable of moving out of -bed had been given medicine which disturbed her -during the night. The wardress at first refused to -wait upon her, but after reluctantly consenting to do -this, she then refused to empty the slops. A fellow-prisoner -volunteered to do this, but was not allowed. -At last, after putting the patient to much distress, -the wardress did the work. On hearing of this the -next morning I was indignant and reported the -matter to the ward superintendent. She answered, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>“The officer was quite within her rights. She is not -a nurse and it is no part of her duty to wait on the -patients. She was quite right, too, not to allow the -other patients to do it.” I expostulated as to the -brutality of putting a patient who was really ill to -such distress and on the unwholesomeness of having -slops in the ward all night. “The only thing that can -be done in such a case,” she replied, “would be to -ring the night bell for me.” As this woman was on -her feet for sixteen hours, from six in the morning -to ten at night, the patients would be most reluctant -to disturb her, apart from the fact that they would -never dream of this being the right thing to do unless -they had been specially informed of the regulation.</p> - -<p>I found that my poor friend of the injured leg was -suffering more than ever. I did my best to ease her -pain by rubbing and trying to lift the cruel pressure -from the disturbed bones. The wardress did not -interfere with me as I had rather expected she -would, but the next morning she said, “I must -report you for being out of bed half the night.” -When the doctor came on his rounds he had, I -suppose, received the “report,” for he shook his -head at me reprovingly but with a kind look as if he -at least understood the motive of my most recent -crime. I felt very despondent all day. The members -of the Freedom League were released that -morning, all except Mrs. Duval, who had to serve -a longer sentence, and Mrs. Macdonald, as the -authorities had not yet decided what was to happen -to her on release.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon the sun shone brightly and the -air was full of that indefinable sense of spring. The -“spring-running” of the jungle seemed to penetrate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -even through prison walls and into the minds of -prison officials. Whether because of this or for -some less good cause we were accorded exceptional -benefits. Hospital patients who had not been out -before were allowed to come to exercise and we were -told to walk in couples, arm-in-arm, the healthier -patients supporting the others. Amazing privilege! -It seemed like a bit of heaven. We, of course, -discarded the “silence” rule at the same time. -We were exercised in a larger space, not one of -the narrowly-enclosed exercise yards. The prison -officials passed by—Governor, Matron, doctors—but -they made no comment at the unusual sight, seemed, -on the contrary, quite pleased as we grinned our -pleasure boldly into their faces.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="IX" title="CHAPTER IX. FROM THE CELLS">CHAPTER <abbr title="9">IX</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">FROM THE CELLS</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> following morning, Thursday, March 18, I -was again summoned before the Governor. He -looked as if he had an important announcement to -make to me. “Do you still wish to leave the -hospital?” he asked. I was afraid this might -mean my dismissal. “Do you mean going to -the other side?” I said. He answered “Yes.” -“Rather!” I exclaimed, and could hardly contain -myself for surprise and delight. He proceeded to -explain: “The weather having changed, the -medical officer gives his consent to your being -moved to the cells.” I should not be allowed to -scrub my floor nor do any of the routine “labour,” -but if my health and behaviour (!) remained good, -I might be moved next day.</p> - -<p>The weather, of course, had changed many times -since we had been in Holloway, varieties of cold or -mild, damp or dry succeeding each other day by day, -after the familiar fashion of our national climate in -February and March. But I was too well content -to be sarcastic over the reasons given for the official -surrender to my request. I simply said “Thank you -very much indeed.” I had already announced this -decision to several of the ward patients, when the -superintendent came on her rounds and I rushed up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -to her unceremoniously with, “Have you heard my -good news?” Her official mood was on and she -ordered me off with a “Hush! not now.” I gathered -from various questions put to me by the Governor -that the authorities hoped I had not told of my -carving-strike to the other patients. It would -never do, of course, to conciliate the wishes of a -striker! But I was not able to comfort them on -this score, and my triumph was public as well as -complete.</p> - -<p>Later in the morning the superintendent took me -before the Senior Medical Officer. With him it was -a real temptation to say, “If now, why not before?” -to point out how effective had been the behaviour -which two days previously he had professed to find -so incomprehensible, also to draw the analogy -between this little prison episode and the women’s -fight for the vote—a reasonable demand, continuously -pressed in a reasonable way and with -great patience; result, blank refusal on the part of -responsible powers. Militant action, by means of -strike and protest; result, anger, condemnation, -and the request is granted. The vote is not yet -granted to women, but who now doubts that -“they’ll get it” before long; but I restrained -myself and trusted that the lesson would sink home -unassisted. The doctor pointed to a chair by the -side of his desk for me to sit while he sounded me. -In my excitement I forgot all prison decorum and -shook him cordially by the hand. He and the ward -superintendent seemed nearly as pleased as I was -myself. I felt how differently the prison system -would work and with what different results if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -the officials were more often allowed to please themselves -by pleasing their prisoners.</p> - -<p>That afternoon Mrs. Macdonald was released and -sent, by arrangement with the Prison Commissioners, -to a private hospital. The ward superintendent -accompanied her, but on the return of -this officer no word escaped her as to how the patient -had stood the transit, nor as to the result of the -further radiograph which had been taken the day -before. As soon as I was released, I heard that her -leg was broken and had been from the first. A -committee was formed for her care and her redress. -The Home Secretary, Mr. Gladstone, was sure that -the leg had been broken before and refused to read -our statement. It was not till 1910, when Mr. -Winston Churchill was made Home Secretary, that -he read the case and paid her <abbr title="500 pounds">£500</abbr> compensation. -She was taken to another hospital and had a serious -operation to her leg. Had it been treated at once, -the fractured bone would have been restored to its -own length, but after about eighteen days of her -being in prison, when nothing was done for it, the -bone had overlapped and the muscles hardened -round it. This, of course, inevitably shortened the -bone. The operation was successful, but she is -lame for life.</p> - -<p>The only item in the cell-life routine to which I -looked forward with considerable misgiving was -discarding the hospital slippers and having to wear -the hard shoes continuously all day. I felt quite -absurdly pleased with the reward of my efforts. At -the mid-day meal I drank, or rather ate, the doctor’s -health in rice pudding and insisted that the wardress<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -in charge should do the same. That day there -happened to be on duty one of the outwardly least -human of her kind, but my good spirits were -irrepressible, and these being so rarely seen in prison, -they gave me a certain air of authority, I suppose, -for her severity melted and she ate the rice pudding, -as ordered, with even the flicker of a smile.</p> - -<p>The luxury of a bath was allowed once a week, my -turn was due that evening. The superintendent -said: “If I let you have it, will you promise me not -to cut yourself about or any nonsense of that kind?” -I answered: “Is it likely now that I’ve achieved all -that I’ve been struggling for?” That evening, -when she came to my bed for a last inspection, I said, -“You see, they have given way after all.” “Yes,” -she answered; “I never thought they would, but -there, you never can tell what is happening behind -the scenes.” I cordially agreed with this last -sentiment. “That is why,” I answered, “one -should never grow disheartened when things seem -to be impossible.”</p> - -<p>The next morning, while dusting the ward, the -little 3rd Division cleaner came up to me and, -without looking at me after the manner of prisoners, -said in a low voice, “I shall miss you.” I took her -to mean that my housemaiding had to a certain -extent lightened her labours, and I was filled with -pride; I have seldom received praise that gave me -more pleasure. I redoubled my energies and turned -over and dusted the beds that were unoccupied. -The superintendent passed and said, “What are you -doing there?” I explained. “Oh!” she answered, -“That’s good of you.” It’s wonderful how luck,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -good or bad, never comes singly. Everything -seemed to win approval that day.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon I was sewing a new stripe on to -Mrs. Duval’s sleeve, a good conduct badge that had -been dealt out to her, as the first month of her -sentence had been served (she was in for six weeks), -when a stranger wardress came into the ward and -summoned me to “bring your things and come with -me.” This meant the other side at last! Now that -the long-fought privilege was actually mine I felt -self-reproachful at leaving Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, -but she thought I had done right to try and join -the others. No time was allowed for goodbyes. As -I retreated through the gate I waved the hated -shoes at my companions, in token of my good wishes. -I was made to change all my clothes. The wardress -was reluctant to allow me to wear my nightdress, as -I had done from the first in the day time. I insisted, -fearing that I might catch cold without it, and I -promised the doctor to care for my health in every -way if allowed out of hospital. She relented, but -told me I must inform the matron about it. I was -taken over to the new building “D X,” and shown -to a cell on the third floor, No. 10. It was very -clean, had no bars on the window and no gate, and -was in every respect much brighter looking and -without so much of the death’s-head element as the -hospital cell I had just left in the older part of the -prison. It had a hot pipe and, to my surprise, -was considerably warmer than the hospital cell or -general ward, so that the official excuse about the -change of weather seemed less to the point than ever. -After depositing the sheets, towel, soap, etc., which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -I had brought with me, I was taken to join the -others, who were sitting at associated labour on the -ground floor passage. The building had a strange -appearance, as of an enormous bird cage. The cells -are ranged on either side of a barrack-like hall -giving on to narrow galleries with iron rails. The -different storeys are reached by a small iron stairway -in the centre. These and the balconies are covered -over with wire netting for the prevention of suicide, -a precaution in every way most characteristic of the -prison system, a symbol of the suicide of its own -success. The wire netting gives the building an -abnormal appearance; newcomers question “Why -is it there?” The explanation fills the mind with -horror and revolt. A deeper investigation into -prison life brings to light the fact that nothing is -done to prevent or counteract the desire for suicide in -prisoners, the evil is only met by artificial prevention -of its consequences when the mutilation of all -spontaneous wishes, human instincts and reasonable -paths of self-interest have engendered the passionate -longing to cease existing.</p> - -<p>The moment of joining my companions was most -exhilarating. They were sitting on chairs placed in -regular rows, knitting stockings or sewing women’s -underclothes and men’s shirts. I was put into a -vacant place about six rows from the front. Patients -who had returned to the cells from hospital had -spread the news of my continued but vain attempts -to rejoin the bulk of my fellow-prisoners, so that my -appearance among them caused great surprise. -Some of them were almost unrecognisably changed -by the prison dress, others I was distressed to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -looked extremely ill, but, as the news spread amongst -them of my presence, they looked my way in turn -and gave me a welcoming smile that momentarily -changed prison into paradise. I quickly understood -that the right we had claimed to talk with one -another at associated labour had been effectively -maintained, but for the sake of not getting the -wardresses into trouble we talked only in low voices -or whispers to our immediate neighbours. The -greatest eagerness, of course, was for news of Mrs. -Lawrence. She had sent a special message of -thanks to Mrs. Corbett and to Miss Carling, news -having reached the hospital that these two had -been particularly active in maintaining the rights -and decencies that had been won by our predecessors -through much hardship, also in their efforts -to secure fresh reforms of the same kind. These -were mostly connected with ordinary prison routine -and affected the welfare of all prisoners besides ourselves. -They were, amongst others—the use of an -earthenware mug for drinking purposes instead of a -tin; permission to empty slops more frequently; -a chair with a back to it had been substituted for -the stool; a better standard of food, cooking and -clothing through complaint whenever these were -amiss; the right to appeal direct to the Governor—previously -the applications to see the Governor had -frequently not been delivered, this being, of course, -more especially the case when it was suspected that -complaint would be made about any of the officers; -protest whenever prisoners were unjustly punished -for offences they had not committed; the right to -speak to each other at associated labour.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> - -<p>The prisoners near me were eager to point out -these two valiant women and cordially endorsed the -report of their splendid persistency. They were -sitting near the front, and it was several days before -I achieved getting a place near enough to convey to -them Mrs. Lawrence’s message. They were immensely -pleased. One of the reforms for which they -had asked most continuously, but always in vain, -was for alteration in the lavatory doors. These, -which we nick-named “the cowsheds,” were only -about three feet in depth and left a space of one foot -from the ground, there was no lock or bolt or catch of -any kind and they could not be fastened. As the -lavatories occupied a position next door to the sink -and in the very centre of the gallery, there was no -sense of privacy whatever. Both feet and head of -the occupant could be seen from the passage, and in -the hurried passing to and fro of prisoners to the sink -to draw water or empty slops the lavatory door was -frequently flung open. The excuse given for this -arrangement was that it was in the interests of -cleanliness and because of the tendency amongst -prisoners to commit suicide. If they were invisible -or could lock themselves in, it was stated that besides -foul behaviour they would seize the opportunity to -kill themselves. Obviously neither of these precautions -were necessary in the case of Suffragettes, -and we pleaded that when our numbers exceeded -sixteen, the number of cells to which a lavatory was -provided, one might be set apart for our use. With -the W.S.P.U. and Freedom League together the -Suffragette prisoners during my time amounted to -about forty. We asked that a bolt should be put on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -the inside of the door, and a curtain hung from the -top of the doorway. This would have been easy and -inexpensive, and the wardress in charge could, at -any time necessary, draw the curtain and open the -bolt from outside the door. It is difficult to see how -this arrangement would be harmful even to the -ordinary prisoner. The modern cells are fitted with -electric light, the lamps of which have glass shades. -The prisoners are locked into these cells and pass the -night without inspection. If they intended suicide -nothing would be easier than to break the glass and -open a vein with it. The lavatories contain no such -easy implements for suicide. The almost unanimous -experience of our prisoners, and of many -ordinary prisoners with whom I have compared notes -since my release, is that prison life disorganises -digestion. The unaccustomed food, the many hours -of sitting still, the want of air, the inability to leave -the cell except at stated times, and the great depression -of spirit, are all of them certain to produce -digestive disorders. Bread is the staple food of -prisoners. The prison brown bread is excellent in -quality and in nutritive properties to those who can -digest it, but to most moderns, of whatever class or -sex, it is an unaccustomed food. To some people it -is too coarse and acts as an irritant, while producing -the opposite effect on others. The white bread of -the hospital, also excellent of its kind, though not so -irritating, is also not easily digested because of the -stagnant life and small quantity of vegetables or -butter allowed. The part played by the drug-basket -in prison routine, and the surprise of its -attendant if purgatives were not required, is proof<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -sufficient that prison conditions in this matter are -abnormal. The cells are supplied with tin chambers -fitted with a lid which can be used in an emergency, -but the close atmosphere of the cells makes this -extremely undesirable to people trained in any sense -of cleanliness. Every cell has an electric bell for -summoning a wardress, but frequently no notice is -taken of such a summons, and the bells are often out -of order and do not work. Many of our Suffrage -prisoners have had their health permanently impaired, -some have had to undergo operations, as a -result of the prison life in these respects. From the -writings of ordinary prisoners and from what I have -heard from them direct, digestive disorders seem to -be common to most prisoners. My own comparative -immunity I ascribe to the following precautions: -Doing physical exercises twice or three times a day, -saving potatoes from the midday dinner so that I -had some vegetable food at every meal; keeping -my allowance of bread until it was stale; the extra -milk and butter allowed to vegetarians; the freedom -from drug taking made possible by these precautions; -the privileges extended to me in the way of -occasional permission to leave my cell out of the -drill routine limitations.</p> - -<p>After we had returned to our cells the Matron -came to visit me. I reported the fact that I was -wearing my nightgown under my day clothes. She -said I could not be allowed to do this without -special permission from the medical officer. I -accordingly put in “an application” to see him the -next day.</p> - -<p>I think there must be something of Asiatic origin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -in me, for, contrary to Western customs, I never feel -that meals are a suitable time for conviviality, but, -on the contrary, that eating should be in solitude. I -enjoyed the change to the cell routine in this respect. -It was good to have always the same drinking mug, -the cleaning of which I had done myself, and I was -glad to be rid of the hospital tablecloth, for this was -changed only once a week, and the over-filled dishes -of fish and vegetables, as well as tea and milk, left -their mark upon it abundantly, so that during the -last days of the week it presented anything but -an appetising appearance. In the cells, milk was -poured into my own pint mug, vegetables were -served in an unpolished tin which looked very dirty -and sometimes smelt objectionably, but the potatoes -were in their skins and I ate of the vegetables only -that part which did not touch the tin. A tin plate -and spoon were provided in the cells, and a curious -piece of tin, oblong in shape, doubled over up one -side to make a rounded surface and corrugated on -the other to make an uneven saw-like edge, was -handed in with the meal to serve as knife. This I -used as it was put out again with the empty tins, but -I soon learned that if the plate and spoon were -greased with food it was very difficult to get them -clean again, as they can only be washed in cold -water. The pail of water allowed to stand in the cell -quickly became greasy itself, and there was no time, -when let out to the tap to draw water, to wash up these -things at the sink. I therefore used some of the freely -supplied brown toilet paper to cover my plate and -helped myself with my fingers instead of the spoon as -they were much easier to wash. We were allowed a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -small supply of hot water at the same time that -supper, consisting of hot milk and bread, was brought -round. It was rather a trial that under conditions -where luxuries were scarce, two should be supplied -together in a way to make the full enjoyment of -them both impossible. I preferred a hot wash to a -hot supper and performed my ablutions first.</p> - -<p>I had hoped that having left hospital I should be -allowed to sleep in the dark, but it was a disappointment -to find I was still an “observation case” -because of my “heart disease.” I did not sleep -much and when morning came I felt strangely tired, -but supposed it was due to the unusual excitement -of rejoining my companions and of having at last -attained to “the other side.” One of the hospital -patients had kindly given me elaborate instructions -as to the mysterious and dexterous craft of bed-rolling -in the cells. As the failure to achieve this -correctly was a frequent cause of reproof and as the -instructions given by wardresses were often inadequate -I was very grateful for this special training. -I remember that the patient, Mrs. Manson, of the -Freedom League, was reading George Elliot’s -“Mill on the Floss,” and it was on the cover of this -book that she elaborated to me the furniture of the -cell, where each thing should be placed and how the -bedding was to be folded, then rolled into a kind of -Swiss-roll coil. In the cells the mattress is stuffed -with some kind of chaff, a not uncomfortable form -of bedding if not stuffed too full. But mine was a -new one, it seemed filled to its utmost capacity, so -that it was as hard as a pincushion to lie upon, and -it was only after repeated efforts, requiring my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -utmost strength for about fifteen minutes, that I -succeeded at last in curling it up and buttoning it -together in the required fashion. I was sufficiently -exhausted after doing this to necessitate a long -pause before I started afresh on the folding of the -sheets and blankets which had to be done with -minute exactness. Much more prolonged physical -labours in hospital had never produced this effect -upon me even during the first days when my heart -was in an actively disturbed state. I wondered -whether there was some health-maiming condition -in this much-yearned-after “other side” which had -really justified my retention in hospital. I then -remembered the ventilation system of the cells -against which Suffragette prisoners had made such -a determined stand. The Governor and doctors had -never once mentioned this lack of air in the cells as -among their reasons for keeping me out of them, but -now I became convinced that this was the cause of my -faintness. Beyond a general feeling of what might -be described as extreme slackness I did not notice -anything peculiar until I exerted myself, but then -the absolutely stagnant quality of the atmosphere -seemed to overwhelm me. The window had no -opening of any kind, the sixteen small panes of glass -in their wooden framework were hermetically sealed. -There were three ventilators in all, but on placing -my hand upon them there was no feeling whatever -of a current of air. The window was not fogged, so -proving that the air was not yet vitiated to that -degree, but whatever the scientific diagnosis of the -results of this ventilation, there could be no doubt -to an occupant of the cell that it was difficult to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -breathe in it after the eleven or twelve hours of close -confinement.<a name="Anchor_7" id="Anchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 7.">[7]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h3 title="">Footnote:</h3> - -<ul> -<li><a name="Footnote_7" id="Footnote_7"></a><a href="#Anchor_7" class="fnlabel">[7]</a> In the Report of the Commissioners of Prisons for the -year ending March 31, 1911 (Part <abbr title="1">I.</abbr>), the Surveyor of -Prisons tells that: “The provision of opening panes and -clear glass in cell windows has been continued ... another -two years’ work (if funds are forthcoming) should complete -the prisons.” Two years to wait—and for want of money -from the richest exchequer in the world! But they would -have waited much longer if it had not been for the -Suffragettes. -</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p>During the morning, following on my “application,” -I was visited by the medical officer. I put -the request, as ordered by the Matron, of wearing -my nightgown in the day time. He turned to the -wardress and said, “What an extraordinary request -to put before a doctor. That has nothing to do -with me.” I explained that the leaving off of -this garment would probably affect my health -injuriously, but as it was contrary to prison discipline -a doctor’s permit was required. He made -some contemptuous remarks, but, when pressed, -reluctantly gave his consent. This seems a very -trifling incident as I record it here, but I vividly -remember how it seemed another link in the chain -of degradation which is forged afresh continuously -around every prisoner. Some exceptional treatment -becomes necessary, one is ordered to apply for -it through some particular channel, on application -the prisoner is refused, reproved or laughed at, as if -this were a fresh instance of misdeed or foolishness. -In this instance I reminded the doctor that the -authorities were anxious that my health should be -good at my release, and that in making this request -I was assisting them, otherwise I should prefer to go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -without a privilege which would not be extended -equally to all prisoners under like conditions. I had -intended bringing forward the question of ventilation, -but felt that it would be useless to appeal to -this particular official, who had invariably treated -all my requests as unreasonable. On looking back -after my release on this man’s conduct, it has -occurred to me that possibly he adopted his attitude -towards me from a righteous indignation at the -orders for specially favourable treatment which -were ordered for my case from headquarters. I -have heard from other Suffragette prisoners and -also from ordinary prisoners of his considerate kindness -to them on several occasions. I afterwards -told the Chief Medical Officer about the airlessness -of these cells, I think with some effect.</p> - -<p>We were exercised in the morning, not in the -afternoon as from the hospital. It was a moment -of great delight to see my companions in the yard, -where I had a better view of them than at associated -labour. We were exercised in sections of about -sixteen at a time for an hour, in the central yard -of the prison, as it seemed, a triangular yard -flanked by high walls of the oldest blocks of cells -and adjoining the high central tower, which enables -Holloway prison to stand as a landmark for many -miles distant. It can be seen from the Great -Northern Railway on the line between Holloway -and Finsbury Park Stations. I never look at it -without recalling the sensations that gripped my -soul and checked my breath when I first set eyes on -this inner yard. It seemed the quintessence of -prison, the very heart of it. The length of each side<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -of the rough, triangular formation is, I should think, -about twenty-four feet. The walls facing south-west -and east are very high, so that a deep shadow -lies across the yard at all hours; on the right, as we -entered from D X, is a low walled building used -apparently, for cooking and laundry purposes and -facing south. This seems to be a more modern -erection, and from its low, single-storey construction -is responsible for most of the sunlight allowed -to enter the enclosure. The remarkable feature of -the yard, which caused the first feeling of horror that -has remained a nightmare in my mind ever since, -is the tier upon tier of cell shutters, they could not -be called windows, in the two high walls giving on to -the yard. They are designed to let in the very -minimum of light or air, the shuttered layers of -wood are, moreover, coated with refuse of the -pigeons which fly freely about the yard, and are -in every other respect a great delight to prisoners. -The prison from here looks like a great hive of -human creeping things impelled to their joyless -labours and unwilling seclusion by some hidden -force, the very reverse of natural, and which has in -it no element of organic life, cohesion, or self-sufficing -reason. A hive of hideous purpose from -which flows back day by day into the surrounding -city a stream of evil honey, blackened in the making -and poisonous in result. The high central tower -seemed to me a jam pot, indicative of the foul -preserve that seethed within this factory for potting -human souls.</p> - -<p>Sometimes, in momentary reaction from the -pent-up feelings of indignation and revolt, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -were chronic with me during my imprisonments, I -could have laughed out loud at the imbecility and -pathos of human fallibility, that civilised (?) educated -beings could continue such processes by way -of ridding themselves from the dangers and active -harmfulness of crime. Wardresses stood at different -points of the yard. Whenever in our march round -there was a tendency for the single file to draw -closer together, the wardresses would say nothing, -but catch hold of one of us by the arm until -the spacing was again correct. This handling of -prisoners instead of appealing to their ordinary -intelligence was typical of the mistaken routine, -as in hospital, imposed upon prison officials.</p> - -<p>Once, to my delight, I recognised among these -superintending wardresses one who had been with us, -and exceptionally kind, in hospital. I hoped that -she would manage somehow to give me news of Mrs. -Pethick Lawrence and possibly also of my friend -with the injured leg, whose fate I thought must -surely have filtered through to the wardresses. For -some days no opportunity occurred, although this -officer smiled at me once or twice with a friendly -recognition that was quite unofficial, but only at -carefully chosen moments, showing that such a -smile would not be allowed by higher authorities. -At last, when I purposely crowded up rather near to -the prisoner ahead of me, she took the opportunity -to check my progress by putting her arm in front of -me in the recognised fashion, meanwhile telling me -in a hasty whisper and without looking at me, just -as prisoners communicate, that Mrs. Lawrence was -well, but that Mrs. Macdonald had been found to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -have a fractured hip-joint and would have to stay -in hospital a long while.</p> - -<p>Although my cell was considerably warmer than -that in the hospital, I still had not grown accustomed -to the insufficiency of my underclothing, and as now -there was no worse condition of things ahead of me I -put into use the strip of flannel that had been given -me for knee-binders. I found that either they -slipped off immediately or had to be bound so tight -that they impeded circulation and the free use of the -limbs. As one had to be constantly kneeling down -for bed making, etc., this device proved quite -impracticable. Fearing lest fresh suggestion on my -part would have to be passed by a series of officials -and finally submitted to the judgment of a doctor -who might, as in the nightgown question, satirically -exclaim that this was a point not suitable to -put to him, I took advantage of the light that was -left on all night, and during the uninspected hours -sewed the strips of flannel on to the flannel drawers; -this enabled me to tuck them into the stockings -knickerbocker-wise.</p> - -<p>The chaplain kindly came to visit me and -remained for quite a long talk. He is the only male -prison official who visits the prisoners without an -attendant, the Governor and Deputy Governor being -accompanied generally by the Matron, and the -medical officer by a hospital attendant or wardress. -He told me that many prisoners after release wrote -to him with gratitude for his kindness and help; -nevertheless he seemed to me to have but little -fellow-feeling for the flocks he shepherded in -Holloway. I appealed to him, in a way I had not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -been able to do within hearing of the other patients -in the hospital, about the case of Mrs. Macdonald. -I told how it seemed to me an instance of the way in -which prison officials left to themselves could not -possibly have shown such brutality and neglect as was -actually the case, had not the tradition of the prison -system exacted a lower standard of conduct than was -natural. I summed up the special grievances—her -being made to walk across the yard, to walk up the -three flights of stairs, being left a whole day in her -cell before being conveyed to hospital, the refusal of -the doctors to use the X-rays for investigation in -the first instance, the contempt with which they had -ignored the suggestions of this unusually intelligent -woman, the refusal to allow her to see a doctor from -outside when she was dissatisfied with their diagnosis, -in spite of the fact that she could not in any -sense be regarded as a criminal, having been charged -for “obstruction” only when on a perfectly peaceable -deputation to the House of Commons. The -difficulties put in the way of her communication -with her husband relative to her release. The -cruel, needless physical suffering as well as mental -worry which such treatment had entailed, perhaps -resulting in maiming her for life. He had no word -of sympathy to offer in connection with this case, -and when I compared the treatment with that -meted out to myself, when much greater consideration -was shown with much less need, he took the -official line that all that was done by officials must -be right, and that his own wife had had a similar -fall, some friends had advised X-rays, others had -said they would be useless. Nothing was done, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -injury turned out to be slight and her recovery had -been complete. At the time he was using such -arguments to me, it was already known that in -Mrs. Macdonald’s case the hip-joint had been -fractured.</p> - -<p>I know that it is a very serious matter to tell -of these things in a published book. I shall be -reminded that officials are unable to answer back -or to defend themselves in public. It must, however, -be remembered that prisoners are in a yet -more defenceless position, and that having personally -witnessed and experienced the effect on prisoners -of certain kinds of official infallibility, it is a matter -of conscience to speak out. But in all these -instances it is the bad tradition, the wrong standard -of conduct exacted, not the personal character of -officials, that has to be attacked. This chaplain, -given ordinary surroundings, would no doubt be -according to his light a well-meaning, and according -to his powers a well-doing man. If his work were -in a West End parish or in a rural district among -people whom he genuinely revered, I can conceive -that his sympathy and understanding would be -considerable. The blame of his attitude towards -prisoners should rest on those who selected him for -a prison job and on the many elements responsible -for a system which instils contempt for the prisoner -as a fundamental tenet of the prison official. I was -told by a fellow-prisoner, a Suffragette, who on -admission had entered her religious beliefs under the -title “atheist,” that this chaplain several times discussed -religious matters with her in a spirit of -tolerant reverence for points of view differing from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -his own. The combination of the two offices, priest -and prison official, seem to be almost incompatible, -anyhow while the prison system rests upon its -present basis. It would be more suitable if religious -and moral teachers could come into the prison solely -as representatives of the ethical bodies they represent. -They could then offer their spiritual guidance -and consolations to the unfortunate inmates, as -they would to free individuals, without in any way -compromising the “system” or the officials who -have to carry it out.</p> - -<p>On Sunday we were allowed to go to Holy Communion. -This impressed one very strangely. An -attempt was made to treat one more freely, combined -with many of the same restrictions as at other times. -There were about ten or twelve women altogether, -of whom about six were Suffragettes. To our great -delight Mrs. Lawrence was one of them. It seemed -ages since I had left her, and I was delighted to see -her again. The beautiful words of the service were -almost more than one could bear, and every one of -them seemed to contain freedom. It seemed as if -we must be holding it privately among ourselves. -“Drink ye all of this, for this is My Blood of the New -Testament, which is shed for you and for many for -the remission of sins: Do this as oft as ye shall drink -it, in remembrance of Me.” Yet there was the -wardress with her face from which neither good nor -bad could be told, neither kind nor unkind, and the -face of the parson which seemed of the very nature of -officialdom. After the service we left the chapel by -different doors, Mrs. Lawrence’s batch and ours, and -we did not see each other again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> - -<p>The next morning when we were returning, through -the many halls of the building, single file, our huge -boots ringing out on the stone floor, at one door a -hospital superintendent stood and said to each one -as she passed: “Any application for the doctor?” -When it came to my turn, I saw that it was my friend -from the hospital, but no look of recognition betrayed -itself in her face. She put out her arm to stop me -and wheeled me round to the back. When several -others had passed her she turned to me, began -quickly undoing my dress and said rapidly, but with -still no look of recognition: “Well, have you been -all right?” “Oh, yes,” I said, “but surely you are -not going to look at it here?” She made no -answer, but began to inspect me even more quickly. -I insisted on turning my back on the long file which -seemed never to end. She asked kindly questions, -and said she would come and see the other wound -that afternoon. She did not come, however, but -sent one of the younger superintendents. She came -once in the early morning, and it was very nice to -see her again; it was the last time.</p> - -<p>On one of the latter days a girl was wrongfully -accused of laughing in chapel, and confined to her -cell in consequence the following day. It is possible -that someone was guilty of this. The severity which -some of the wardresses used at chapel seated above -the prisoners, one at every two or three rows, their -backs to the altar and their attention completely -taken up with the prisoners, gave one a strange -sensation in church; it took away all reverence of -the usual kind, and made one nervous and possibly -inclined to laugh. But, as it happened, the girl<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -punished for this offence was far removed from the -possibility of laughing. She was one of those I had -noticed with particularly long hair; it must have -reached below her knees. We had come away together -once from an Albert Hall meeting in a four-wheel -cab when I had been lucky in securing it, and a -wet evening made me invite strangers who were -anxious to get away. She was particularly deferential -and modest in her ways, her manner in chapel -was irreproachable, and that she was picked out for -punishment was most singularly ill-judged. We -volunteered punishment of the same order as hers, -and neither chapel, exercise, nor concerted labour -had the benefit of us during the day.</p> - -<p>The last days were spent in burning excitement. -Nothing that I can say will explain the feeling I had -that I was going to be free once more. The food, the -clothes, the getting up at 5.30 a.m., these were bad -enough, but they were as nothing compared to the -incessant brutal treatment of the official manner, as -with Mrs. Macdonald more especially, but also with -Mrs. Duval, Miss Lawless, and others; in the constantly -being ordered about and spoken to as if one -had no feelings or perceptions, there was nothing but -an extreme severity of manner without the smallest -variation. On the third or fourth day before our -last, someone had a visitor while we were at associated -labour. On her return along the line she said -to me: “A speech is expected of you; they hope -great things of you at the feast.” My heart gave one -bound. This meant release without a doubt, but a -speech! How was it such a thing was expected of -me? <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>“I’ll simply tell some of the things that -take place here,” I thought, and I felt that this -was necessary.</p> - -<p>The morning of March 24 we were released. My -excitement was great, I had not slept, and from -4.30 onwards it was impossible to keep quiet. At -5.30 we were called in the regulation way and towards -7 we were taken down to other cells. I was put into -one with a stranger whom I had not seen before. -She was a servant, a lady’s maid, who had left -her last place, or, rather, they had left her, because -of her opinions. She had determined to go in for -the Deputation, although probably it would mean -that she got no place again.<a name="Anchor_8" id="Anchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 8.">[8]</a> The cell where we were -was dirty and smelt horribly, but I said nothing, -hoping that my companion would not notice it. -She soon did, however, for the smell nearly made her -faint. I was given a packet of letters—a large heap -from friends and strangers all the world over. At -the head of the telegrams was a two-sheet one from -our baker in the country, sent off the moment I was -a prisoner, addressed to “The Castle where Suffragettes -are confined, Holloway,” most anxious about -my food, and might he send the special bread he -always made for me! I read my mother’s letter -again and again; it was all kindness, and I could -hardly wait to see her. We were arranged in a long, -close file, in the same order in which we had been -ushered in, and put to stand in the big gateway. I -never knew what it was that kept us, but there we -stood for nearly an hour. A wardress or two were -watching us, and we were not allowed to move. At<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -last the big doors were unbolted, we were half pushed -from where we stood, we were out in the open—we -were free. My sister and her eldest girl and boy -had somehow gained permission to come within the -outer gates. I saw them and forgot all else. There -was no release-breakfast feast; we were told that -we were to meet that evening at the Inns of Court -Hotel and make our speeches there.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h3 title="">Footnote:</h3> - -<ul> -<li><a name="Footnote_8" id="Footnote_8"></a><a href="#Anchor_8" class="fnlabel">[8]</a> I heard afterwards that the married daughter of the -lady she was last with had taken her gladly and at once. -</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p>Some days had passed when I went back to the -prison. I thought I should be glad to get within -reach of the ordinary prisoner, I in no way dreaded -it. I had more to find out about X., the 3rd -Division prisoner of the hospital. But, strangely -enough, when I saw the big tower of Holloway, that -looked quite different from anything else, and which -brought back the inevitable picture of the women -that go in, are kept in durance, and let out again to -a life more horribly unnatural, I felt my legs begin -to shake, and by the time I was shown in to the -Governor, who kindly saw me, it was all I could do -to walk upstairs. I could not see X.; they said -that someone else had been to visit her that month. -I got in touch with her case through the Prisoners’ -Aid Society but they said that she was being -“attended to” by another lady.</p> - -<p>I went again to Holloway the morning that X. -was to be released. Her freedom was due at 8 a.m. -Two women and her little boy were waiting for her, -they had kept the boy from all harm during the long -months of her imprisonment. They didn’t know -where she was going to live, or what she would do, -they had heard nothing from her. Soon after eight -the great doors swung open, and the prisoners for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -that morning were let out, but there was no X., -among them. I inquired at the door, but they would -give no information there. After waiting another -three-quarters of an hour I put in an appeal to -see the Governor. The little boy of four years -old had waited more than an hour outside, I had -petitioned for him and one of the women to wait -inside, but in vain. I was shown up to the Governor, -who kindly saw me and made inquiries for me -about X.’s case. She was booked to go out that -morning, but was waiting for her uncle, a well-to-do -man, to take her away. I said her little boy was -there, might he not spend the time with her, as she -would be taking him away. The answer was “No.” -The Governor said it was a case in which the Chaplain -and a lady visitor had taken a special interest, that -he knew very little about it. He asked me very -kindly to wait in his room, but as he had nothing -more to tell me I went back to the women outside. -They told me more fully about X. She seems to -have been in every way a good and hard-working -woman. She had killed her child, knowing that it -would be impossible to keep it alive. The man, -the father, lived in the same street, but now he -had gone, they did not know where. They hoped -that she would come back and live where she had -been before, but they feared the rich uncle, a -publican. X. had been to live with him and her -aunt when quite a young girl, but they had insisted -that she must tout the men for them, and engage in -illegal intercourse as an attraction. She had run -away, and would not live with them. At her trial the -uncle had been called in, and he, being a Citizen of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -London, had kindly managed that she should be tried -only for concealment of birth. He had done well -for her at the trial, but now they feared he would -get hold of her again. My feelings were indeed torn -when I had to tell them the Governor’s news. They -had kept the child without help from anybody, -sometimes it was a very hard thing, but they had -always kept it in good health. Presently a tall man -came by and went into the prison. About a quarter -of an hour after he came out. X. was with him. -She walked head down, her face in tears. Scarcely -knowing what she did, she advanced towards her -little boy, stretched out both arms and gave him a -passionate embrace. He had rushed towards her -calling out “Mother!” Then, sobbing as if her -heart would break, she followed the man to the -public-house opposite. The two women made as if -they would follow her, and I slipped into her hand -a letter I had written in case I did not see her. -The man then rounded on the women, and driving -them away with his hand, said: “Keep away, we -don’t want you—your money shall be paid you -all right,” and he fled along the pavement, taking -X. by the arm. We went and had some belated -breakfast at a shop. I took the address of the women -and the little boy, but I unfortunately lost it when I -was abroad. I had given them mine, but I have -never heard of them from that day.</p> - -<p>I went abroad with my mother, and in the meanwhile -things happened apace in England. The -deputations, in ever-increasing numbers, succeeded -one another with imprisonments of two or three -months. The officials treated all the deputations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -with the utmost indifference. Miss Wallace Dunlop -wrote up on the walls of the House of Commons: -“Women’s Deputation, June 29. Bill of Rights. -It is the right of all subjects to petition the King. -All commitments and prosecutions for such petitioning -are illegal.” This is one of the most fundamental -laws of Great Britain, but the vote has -rendered it unnecessary for men. For this she was -given one month’s imprisonment, and she it was -who began the hunger strike, and was let free after -four days. For several months succeeding prisoners -followed Miss Dunlop’s fine example, and the Home -Secretary, Mr. Herbert Gladstone, let them out -after four or five days, some of them were kept five -or six days. When they were let out they were -released unconditionally. Towards the middle of -September, Mr. Gladstone thought that he would -make another move and, instead of releasing them, -he had them fed by force in the prisons. The -horror this created was at first small, for there -were but few people who realised what it meant. I -shall never forget the impression that it made on -me.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="X" title="CHAPTER X. NEWCASTLE: POLICE STATION CELL">CHAPTER <abbr title="10">X</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">NEWCASTLE: POLICE STATION CELL</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">I was</span> at Birmingham in October, 1909, and I had -two meetings with Mrs. Pankhurst. Whenever this -happened one felt most singularly useless beside that -great woman. I was overcome by the sense of being -superfluous, and oppressed at having to go through -the same ordeal in the evening. After the first -meeting she took me with her to a nursing home to -see the girl who had been the first to be released -after the hunger-strike and forcible feeding. It was -a fine evening, and a beautiful red light lit up the -window as we came in; against it was merely the -shadow of a girl, sitting in an arm-chair. She did -not look ill in an ordinary way, but young and fresh, -only so absolutely thin and wasted, it would not -have surprised us if life had gone out. She told her -story very simply, just the bare facts and nothing -more. She had been fed for a month. Mrs. -Pankhurst, in cross-questioning her, elicited some of -the horrors. She had resisted the gag as long as -possible, then, with the increasing weakness, she had -not the strength to resist much. Yes, the tube was -a long one, pushed down the throat, in spite of all -attempts to prevent it, and into the stomach. The -feeling was that the tube was absolutely choking -you, and when it was withdrawn that it dragged -after it the whole of your inside.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> - -<p>She looked absolutely ethereal as she smiled at us -and said “Good-bye.” For several days her face -haunted me, it was startlingly like something. Then -I remembered the paintings of Fra Angelico in the -Chapel of St. Mark’s at Florence. I bought one of -the little sixpenny editions of his pictures. There -it was, the thing I had seen lately, the look of -spiritual strength shining through physical weakness. -I looked through the book to choose one specially -like the girl at Birmingham; there were several -that reminded me of her. I had looked at these -pictures in my younger days, and their great beauty -had given me joy, but I had felt annoyed with the -man for painting beings so inhuman, women that -were ethereal but so little real, a look of purity that -no living creature has. Now I had longed for them, -having seen the thing portrayed in life. As I -looked through the book, I turned over suddenly -on a picture that was quite different. There was a -crowd of women, real women, doing battle with men. -One hit out at a soldier—the men were soldiers—another -thrust out her arm, and with her hand over -his face, kept him away with all the strength she -could, a third had been thrown to the ground, but, -with a face of raging despair was thrusting out in -every direction. The soldiers were simply carrying -out their duty, an order had gone forth and they -obeyed it; in the arms of the women were little -babies, they had been told to kill them, and they did -as they were told. In a seat above, looking on quite -calmly, was Herod. It was the Massacre of the -Innocents. The picture made a deep impression upon -me, yet it all seemed so small compared with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -unnecessary death rates of now. I was, just then, -reading some facts that dealt with the death rate -of infants. I found in one of the booklets by -J. Johnston, <abbr title="Esquire">Esq.</abbr>, M.D., 1909, this passage: “The -first big fact which faces us upon this subject is that -while the death rate for England and Wales for -1906 was 15.4, the infantile mortality—the death -rate of children under twelve months—was 132.” -This means that one in eight of the children born in -this country dies before its first birthday—a death -roll of 339 per day—a massacre of the innocents -greater than that of King Herod at Bethlehem. -And this wholesale slaughter of young life goes on, -not for one day, as did that historic butchery, but is -repeated every day, every week, every month, -year in and year out, until in the year 1906 the army -of baby martyrs reached a grand total of 123,895. -Well might the African monarch, King Khama, say, -“You English take great care of your goods, but -you throw away your children.”</p> - -<p>I left that room in Birmingham in a maze of -feelings. An angel had been in my presence and I, -who agreed with all she did, had left her and many -others to go through with this alone. My mind was -made up. I would take the very next opportunity -of making my protest with a stone.</p> - -<p class="noindent center sp7">. . . . . .</p> - -<p>On Friday, October 8, Christabel Pankhurst and -I were on our way to Newcastle. We were seated -opposite to each other in the midst of a crowded -third-class carriage. It was on this occasion that I -realised, as I had not yet done, the wonderful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -character, the imperturable good temper, the -brilliant intellect of my companion. As we could -not talk in this crowded train, I showed her some -letters and papers on which I wanted her advice, -or which I wanted her to know about. Whether -they were print, typewritten, or manuscript, she -had read them all in a moment, so as to discuss -them with me afterwards. When we arrived at -Newcastle we found that we had accompanied -Mr. Lloyd George; there was a small crowd that -welcomed him and that cheered half-heartedly. -We went, after depositing our things at an hotel, -to join an outdoor meeting. Christabel spoke. I -sold <cite>Votes for Women</cite> in the crowd, which, though a -large one, was mostly composed of out-of-work men, -who took little interest in what was said. We -drove round the town in honour of Miss New, who -had just come out of prison, and went to a tea in -her honour in an hotel where some fifty or sixty -women were assembled. After this there was a -strange meeting in the ground-floor room of a -lodging-house. There were twelve women; we were -all intending stone-throwers, and Christabel was there -to hearten us up and to go into details about the -way in which we were to do it. Mrs. Brailsford -was there, whose husband was lately on the staff of -the <cite>Daily News</cite>; he and Mr. Nevinson had resigned -their posts because of the shameful way in which -that paper and the Liberal Government had forsaken -the women.</p> - -<p>I had made up my mind that I was going to -throw a stone—that was as sure as death, but the -manner of it was going to be my own; I was equally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -sure of that. I was not sure of “the stone-throwers.” -I had vaguely felt that they would have different -reasons from mine for this errand, that perhaps, -though they could not be more certain than myself, -they would mind it less. I had not been in the -room with them five minutes before I realised that I -was mistaken. I was the “hooligan,” if there were -one amongst them. One I specially remember. -She was pretty, with a great deal of fair hair. She -had not, I thought, the look of determination, of -silent, unhesitating determination, which gave an -air of inflexibility to the others. She leaned forward -and asked many questions: the wardresses, would -they, too, be disagreeable, would they pull down her -hair and tear out the tortoise-shell combs? One -somehow knew by her voice that she was not ready, -she asked her questions as if something of a nightmare -was in her mind; they were asked quite -simply, but seemed to say, “Oh! save me from -this!” I asked Christabel, when alone with her -at the hotel, if I might tell her there was no need for -her to do it, that I thought she was not quite prepared. -“Of course,” she answered, “if she does -not feel up to it, let her stand aside. One cannot -tell how one is going to feel, she has never done -anything before.” Not long ago Mrs. Pethick -Lawrence had met her, it was at a bazaar. She -wore a big hat and looked as remote as it is possible -to look from stone throwing. She expressed the -greatest admiration for the militants. “There is -only one thing,” she said, “which I cannot think -worth while—that they should go to prison.” I -was to get her out of it the next morning, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -day of Lloyd George’s meetings and of our militancy.</p> - -<p>That evening there was an immense meeting at -the drill hall where Christabel was to speak, but -before she began a gang of about forty students -howled and threw squibs, so that nothing could be -heard. When she got up for a moment the applause -drowned everything, but it soon was again impossible -to hear her. The students broke up the seats -and threw everything about. Then some ten of -them charged the platform. A row of stewards -hastily ranged themselves and tried to check their -advance, but their arms were wrenched apart, until -the husband of one of them took his turn and gave -it to one of the students, whereupon the other men -turned tail and ran. At this man coming forward -the police interfered, they had been appealed to in -vain by some of the stewards. It was most difficult -not to help them, but I had sworn to keep myself -till the next day. The row made by the other -students went on unabated. Meanwhile, Christabel -remained perfectly good-tempered. For the first -quarter of an hour she spoke up, but as it was -impossible for her voice to carry above the noise -she lowered her voice and spoke only to reporters. -The next day her speech appeared in full in all the -local press.</p> - -<p>The next morning, October 9, we were to meet -early at the same lodging-house. The morning -papers were full of Mr. Lloyd George, and in biographical -sketches emphasised the glory of his -having been militant, and successfully militant, -through several questions that he cared about in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -early days. It was different in the lodging-house -from the night before. All was hurry and determination. -Two of the women had gone already to -deliver their stony messages. The organiser, a -very straightforward and reasonable woman, was -sending each one to a different place. She said, -“There is a stone wants to be put through the door -of the Palace Theatre in the Haymarket. It must -be done at once or the gang of detectives will have -become too thick.” A firm voice said: “I’ll go.” -It was the young girl with fair hair who had asked -so many questions the night before, and whom I was -going to set free. “Oh, no,” said the organiser, -“this job will have to be done alone—two would be -detected at once.” “I’ll go.” It was like a force -of nature that reiterated this, and there was something -of adamant at the back of the voice. She -picked up two or three papers to sell, and was out -in the street before we any of us knew what she was -doing. I dashed after her. I couldn’t believe that -there was so much change in her since the night -before. I moved quickly, but it was only down the -street that led out of the lodging-house street that I -caught her up. “I had thought of getting you out -of it, because you seemed too young to do the work,” -I said. “That was last night; to-day all is quite -different.” <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>“But let me try and say what I have -in my mind. You are going to throw a stone. -Think, as you lift your arm to do it, of the majority -in the House of Commons who for years have said -they are for Votes for Women, who over and over -again for twenty years have voted for the second -reading of a Woman’s Bill, and were quite content -that it should stop there. Think of the nearly total -Cabinet for Woman Suffrage when the Liberals -came in, under a Suffrage Prime Minister, but all -attempts to pass a Bill were treated as futile. Think -of the women who work with a sweated wage, who -have not the energy to rebel, who are cloaked with -poverty; the thousands who, stricken with poverty -more hideous than we can think of on one side, and -tempted with money on the other, sink into a life -of shame, which is endured for five or six years, till -death releases them. Think of Lloyd George, -whose speech is always fair but who carefully prevents -anything being done for women. Think of -the women who have been sent to prison for their -protest against these things, who have hunger-struck -as a fresh protest and who now have been -fed by force. Then throw your stone and make it -do its work.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” she said, “thank you.” I looked -up at her, as I had not liked to do till that minute. -A changed being stood before me. I had noticed -that she had changed from the night before, she -had changed unbelievably at this minute, and -all that strength, determination, complete forgetfulness -of self could give her, were with her -now.</p> - -<p>We parted. I went back to the others. The -next thing I heard of her was in the other office, -where we provided ourselves with stones. A little -girl of about sixteen, who kept on running messages -for us, came rapidly into the room. “Miss X.,” -she said, “has thrown her stone, broken her window, -and been arrested.” Then she went out. From<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -that moment I knew that all was well. Miss X. -got through the two days in the police-court, the -trial, the hunger strike, and the forcible feeding that -followed for the space of fourteen days, as did the -others. Her body was weakness, but her soul was -strength.</p> - -<p>No particular job was given to me. Miss Emily -Davison and I were to keep together. It was still -early, and first we had to make sure of our stones. -We went to the other office to get them. I was -doing up mine in brown paper, double thick. “You -will not be able to throw those,” said the organiser, -“if there is the least bit of wind, it will get inside -and send them you don’t know where.” That was -true. I found some much thinner paper which -kept closely round the stone. I took four or five. -On each one I wrote a different thing, I think they -were all taken from Mr. Lloyd George’s recent -speech. I put them into my pockets and went out. -Miss Davison had been speaking from every part of -the town during the last week. I recommended her -to buy another hat for partial disguise. We went -into a hat shop and did so. In the shop there was -a fascinating little black kitten which it was hard to -leave. Then we went into an eating shop, thinking -it was as well to have some luncheon. The shop was -overpoweringly stuffy and hot. I had not met -Miss Davison before, and it was most interesting -to hear her experiences. Still, we could neither of -us speak nor listen with anything but effort. We -decided to go and see what it was like at the Haymarket, -a large, open space, where the car with -Mr. Lloyd George would probably pass. There was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -still more than an hour before he could come. The -crowd was already considerable. Nearly every -woman that I saw looked friendly; this was probably -my imagination, but it did me good. The -Suffragettes were greatly thought of that day. The -place, we found, was divided in two by a hoarding -of about ten feet in height; there was a space, -guarded by police, that could be opened to let a -carriage through. We looked round at the windows -of all the adjacent buildings, but they were not of an -official or of a sufficiently conspicuous character for -our stones. Presently a man in front of us—the -crowd now was pretty thick—was twirling round -one of his cards in his hands which were folded -behind him. He then held it up, so that we could -see there was writing on it. At last his signals -grew more desperate. One of us took the card -from him. On it was written his deferential -greeting, that he knew what we were out for, could -he help us in any way, run messages for us or anything? -We answered, writing on the other side, -that we thanked him cordially, but as we had no -particular job, it was best for him to “wait and see.” -He had a kindly face and looked the right sort, but -we thought it was just as well that this was the true -answer. There was a monument to the soldiers -who had died in the war in the midst of the open -space. Their names were written on it, and the -little boys were clambering up the monument to see -above the crowd. They had died for their country, -that was the one fact which seemed to stand out -very clearly from the monument. Yes, nobly, and in -a good fight, they had died—where is the statue<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -to the women who had given their lives to the -nation?</p> - -<p>We heard cheering in the distance, it was the -arrival of Mr. Lloyd George at the theatre, he having -driven by another way. My companion began to -think that our chance was over until the evening. -A feeling came over me that I could not wait any -longer, and that somehow or other I must throw my -stone. As it would anyhow be but symbolical, it -seemed to me one could find an occasion as well -here as elsewhere. One thing, however, I was determined -upon—it must be more zealously done, -more deliberate in its character than the stone-throwing -at ordinary windows, which had been done -lately. I was determined that when they had me -in court my act should inevitably be worse than -that of other women. At this moment there was -a hurry in the crowd, the police were making a -clearing and opening the carriage entrance for a -motor-car. We found ourselves on the very edge -of the crowd. As the motor appeared, I whispered -to Miss Davison: “Is this any good?” “Not -the least in the world,” was her reply, “just one of -the motors coming back.” I knew this, of course, -but the instinct was too much for me. To throw a -stone against the car as it ran along the side was -dangerous, as there were two men in the front. I -stepped out into the road, stood straight in front of -the car, shouted out “How can you, who say you -back the women’s cause, stay on in a Government -which refuses them the vote, and is persecuting them -for asking it,” and threw a stone at the car, but very -low down. I thought I had thrown it too low, so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -that it would not hit the car. I was going on, in -the space of time which seemed infinitely long, to -tell the car to turn back and get their answer from -Mr. Lloyd George, then call to the people to come -through the gap and hear his answer. I had time -to think out all this. Miss Davison came to my -side, and I saw someone take hold of her before she -could throw her stone. Then two plain-clothes -detectives caught hold of me, but what was my -intense surprise, without any violence whatever. -They simply led me back through the crowd which -surged around on every side. I had thought there -were no actual friends where we stood, but I at once -saw one or two ready to come and help me if I -wanted it. So I was still and said not a word. My -part was finished, and I saw that anything said -might easily cause a tremendous disturbance at -those close quarters. Miss Davison was arrested -at the same time, though she had done nothing, -and we were led away together. It was a business -getting through the crowd. When we had left the -Haymarket the crush was very much less, and the -two detectives in plain clothes who were responsible -for me walked on either side without touching me. -This went rather strangely with the newspaper contention -that I was “very excitable.” Another incident -which got put into the papers was, that when -we were going down a main street, two tramcars, -going different ways, were about to meet. This -pressed the crowd that followed us and pushed us -all together. We were walking, of course, in the -roadway. A little girl with a baby in a perambulator -and a small boy on foot had got on to the island<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -and were wishing to pass to the pavement, being -afraid of the two trams. I realised that I was the -policeman of that show. I stopped and just -held out my hand to the detective on my right. -We let the baby and its leaders pass, then we -moved on.</p> - -<p>We were taken to the central police station of the -town. The police here were most civil, and, indeed, -kind. We gave our names and addresses, and then -we waited in the main room. Poor Miss Davison -was very distressed at doing nothing. Her heroism -had to wait for another day.<a name="Anchor_9" id="Anchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 9.">[9]</a> Mrs. Baines came into -the police court and spoke to us. I was filled with -disappointment that I had not been able to do more. -She told me that she was quite content, that I had -thrown my stone straight, and, she believed, hit the -car. She was delightfully encouraging, and made one -think one had done well. Presently Mrs. Brailsford -joined us, she had done exactly what she meant to -do, and with a hatchet had hit one of the barricades.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h3 title="">Footnote:</h3> - -<ul> -<li><a name="Footnote_9" id="Footnote_9"></a><a href="#Anchor_9" class="fnlabel">[9]</a> Soon after this Miss Davison was forcibly fed in -Manchester Prison, and, on barricading her cell, the hose-pipe -was played upon her from the window, a process of -force that caused her infinite pain. She fainted, and it was -many days before she recovered. She owed her life probably -to being released from prison, and to the fact that she was a -great swimmer, used to the shock of cold water and to withstanding -its force. In 1913 she met her death with the most -heroic courage at the Derby race. It was her opportunity -of proclaiming to the whole world, perhaps heedless till then, -that women claim citizenship and human rights. She stood -in front of the race and was knocked down by the King’s -horse Anmer, rendered unconscious, and died the following -Sunday, June 8. Millions of people, not only in our own -but other countries, knew, from this act, that there are -women who care so passionately for the vote and all it means -that they are willing to die for it. -</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> - -<p>I noticed in this central police station a large -iron cage. It was empty, and we wondered what -purpose it could serve. On one of the benches a -little boy was sitting, of about seven or eight years -old. He had on ragged clothes, but seemed quite -happy with a cup of soup which he had been given. -It seemed odd though to bring small children to such -a place, with nothing but policemen, although -several of these were good-natured.</p> - -<p>After we had been here a considerable time and -were joined by some of our companions, we heard -that it was unlikely they would allow us bail, and -we were taken off to the cells. Who could have -believed that in the central police station of a place -like Newcastle they could be so dirty? Mine was -No. 2. It was on the left side of a broad gangway, -which could be shut off by an iron gate. It was -October and inclined to be dark, and when I was -first put into the cell it was impossible to see what -it was like or what it contained. It was rather high, -the very small window opposite the doorway was -either of foggy glass or grimed with dirt, it scarcely -lit up anything but itself. To the right was a plank, -rather wide and long, and with a kind of bolster -made of wood. This was all for seat or bed. When -the evening light was lit above the door, where it -was barred with iron on the side of the cell, I saw -that the wood was filthy. There was a plenitude -of fleas, but no lice. Under the window to the -right was a lavatory, it was extremely dirty, the -water could only be turned on from outside. There -was a ledge about three feet high, which sheltered -the seat. Under the window, but this I could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -see till the second day, was a men’s urinal, there -was a gutter in the floor for this, but no water. -The cleanliness of the wall can be imagined. The -smell in the cell was continuously foul.<a name="Anchor_10" id="Anchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 10.">[10]</a> I was -very tired, but only liked to sit, not lie, on the bed.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h3 title="">Footnote:</h3> - -<ul> -<li><a name="Footnote_10" id="Footnote_10"></a><a href="#Anchor_10" class="fnlabel">[10]</a> I have been in police station cells in several other -places—a variety in London and two in Liverpool—but -never have I seen anything like this. The other cells were -scrupulously clean. -</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p>After what seemed a very long time, a policeman -summoned me, and said we were all to have food -together in the wardresses’ room. As I was let out -I noticed seven of the others being let out too—Winifred -Jones, Ellen Wines Pitman, Kathleen -Brown, Kitty Marion, Dorothy Pethick and Emily -Davison. Mrs. Brailsford was the only one I did -not see. The four others—Violet Bryant, Ellen -Pitfield, Lily Asquith and Dorothy Shallard—had -all done their work the previous evening, and had -been sentenced on this, Saturday, morning to two -weeks’ imprisonment. It was, of course, a joy to see -them. It seemed so very long since that morning. -When we had passed the central police office, and -were ushered into the wardresses’ room, it appeared -that Mrs. Brailsford was shut into the wardresses’ -bedroom—whether for a more honourable imprisonment, -she being a woman whose public work none -could call deficient in selflessness and courage, or -whether because she was a “dangerous criminal,” -having used a hatchet in making her mark on the -barricade, we did not know. I remember catching -sight of her as the door was opened to let in a cup of -tea. There she sat, calm and erect, and Mr. Brailsford, -who had been let in to see her, in piteous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -trouble, having the one thought—“Will my wife -be fed by force—how can they dare to do it? -How will she be able to bear it?”</p> - -<p>Most of the others I had not seen before, yet -I felt exuberant delight at being with them. -One only I knew well, and that was Miss Ellen -Pitman. She was in the Deputation of February -and, after being in prison some ten days, she was -brought to the hospital for neuralgic pains in -her leg. She was a trained nurse, we had got -to know each other well, and her fine face will -always be very dear to me. We now got to know -the wardresses—they were as kind to us as possible. -I was so tired I could scarcely see, and after a time -we retired to rest. There was a deafening noise; -the cells were filled mostly with drunkards, for it -was Saturday. Thundering blows on the doors, -accompanied by a string of oaths, went on all -through the night. The police were very kind to -them, bringing them fresh water to drink, chaffing -them and coaxing them. No bedding of any kind -or rugs were provided by the police, but our friends -outside were most wonderfully good to us, and, -when they found we were not to be bailed out, they -were busy collecting rugs and blankets. At about -12 they sent me in a rug and a sort of air-cushion -bed, which would have been most delightful, but I -tried every end in vain, I didn’t know how to put -air into it. I was stiff for several days from my -rest on the plank, but I owed it to the friends that -I did not have two nights of it. On Sunday they -brought a mattress instead of the air bed, and my -flannel sheets which gave me a restful night.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> - -<p>On Sunday I sent for the district visitor, supposing -she would be a woman, but was told there -was no district visitor; a police-court missionary? -not one either; finally, I sent for the doctor. My -complaint was that no toilet paper was provided, -and no sanitary towels for the women. Prisoners -are kept from Saturday afternoon until Monday. I -said, were not these people the same as those who -go to prison, they have these necessaries there? -“I don’t know about a prison, I’m sure they would -never use them in Police Station cells.” Exactly -the same remark was made about the prisons, but -all the same these things were instituted and now -used by prisoners. I begged that, at least, they -might be kept in charge of the wardress.</p> - -<p>Not long after I had seen the doctor, I was summoned -out to see someone else. To my great -delight it was Mrs. Pankhurst. She was all sympathy, -and it was delightful seeing her.</p> - -<p>I was had out of my cell yet another time, for -my name, age, etc., to be “taken down” by a -policeman in a book. I was able to look over the -book as he wrote, and I saw, to my intense surprise, -that the law brought three charges against me, -first, of assault on Sir Walter Runciman, who was -in the car; secondly, of malicious injury to the car -at <abbr title="4 pounds">£4</abbr>; thirdly, of disorderly behaviour in a public -place. I felt very exalted to think I had done so -much, and thought that three months was the least -they could give me. I could not help being pleased -to think that the car had contained the host of -Mr. Lloyd George, not merely the chauffeur. But -what pleased me most was the <abbr title="4 pounds">£4</abbr> damage. How<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -I could have done it was indeed a mystery, but I was -glad to know that the stone had not gone on the -ground, as I had feared. As I went through the -central room on one of these occasions, the cage which -I had seen before, to my astonishment, was inhabited—by -a man, I expected to see some fierce brute, but -he was small, frail and miserably degraded, without -power to do anyone an injury, with marks of abnormal -weakness in his face. When I saw him, the -feeling came over me with a great tide, that I should -throw myself at his feet and try to bear something -of his burden, because if I had done my duty, and -if my contemporary women and those who went -before had done their duty, we should have given -him another life, by securing better, more human -conditions, for himself and for his mother who gave -him birth. He had lived in that terrible state of -things which make it hardly possible to survive. -Here, at any rate, was a man intensely feeble in his -body, and he was put in an iron cage as the only -suitable place!</p> - -<p>We were called out and made to stand at the doors -of our cells. Presently, the plain-clothes police came -to “learn our faces,” and after looking at us steadfastly -for some minutes, we were put back again.</p> - -<p>The food was brought for us by our friends from -outside, who provided for us deliciously, and we had -our meals all together in the wardresses’ room. Only -Mrs. Brailsford never appeared, being shut in the -inner room, but we sent her some of our food. -On Sunday night, the wardress had brought us a -little basin with some warm water to our cells, -which was indeed a boon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> - -<p>That Sunday night the police were most kind, -they allowed me to sit at a table outside my cell and -write. My cell was much too dark for writing. -To-night the place was more full of noise than it had -been before. The wild yells, and blows on the -doors, made my hand shake so that at first I could -not write, but by holding the pencil, lent to me -by the police, over the paper, it came sufficiently -legibly at last. I wrote to my mother and my sister. -I also wrote to the <cite>Times</cite> the following letter, from -the eleven<a name="Anchor_11" id="Anchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 11.">[11]</a> who were imprisoned:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—We ask you to give us our last opportunity, -before we go through the ordeal awaiting us -in Newcastle Prison, of explaining to the public the -action which we are now about to take.</p> - -<p>“We want to make it known that we shall carry -on our protest in our prison cells. We shall put -before the Government by means of the hunger-strike -four alternatives: To release us in a few days; -to inflict violence upon our bodies; to add death to -the champions of our cause by leaving us to starve; -or, and this is the best and only wise alternative, to -give women the vote.</p> - -<p>“We appeal to the Government to yield, not to -the violence of our protest, but to the reasonableness -of our demand, and to grant the vote to the duly -qualified women of the country. We shall then -serve our full sentence quietly and obediently and -without complaint. Our protest is against the -action of the Government in opposing Woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -Suffrage, and against that alone. We have no -quarrel with those who may be ordered to maltreat -us.</p> - -<p class="title3"> -“Yours sincerely,</p> -<p class="sig_list">“<span class="smcap">Lily Asquith.</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Jane E. Brailsford.</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Kathleen Brown.</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Violet Bryant.</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Ellen Pitfield.</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Dorothy Shallard.</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Winifred Jones.</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Constance Lytton.</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Kitty Marion.</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Dorothy Pethick.</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Ellen W. Pitman.</span> -</p> - -<p class="noindent">“<span class="smcap">Central Police Station</span>,<br /> -<span class="out_a_bit2">“<span class="smcap">Newcastle</span>,</span><br /> -<span class="out_a_bit4">“<i>October 10, 1909</i>.”</span></p> -</blockquote> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h3 title="">Footnote:</h3> - -<ul> -<li><a name="Footnote_11" id="Footnote_11"></a><a href="#Anchor_11" class="fnlabel">[11]</a> I handed this letter to a friend on Monday morning. -At the trial Miss Davison was dismissed, so her name was -taken from the signatures. -</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p>I wrote on the wall of my cell my name and -the words which rung in my head over and over -again, from the Book of Joshua: “Only be thou -strong and very courageous.”</p> - -<p>I received a letter in the police cell, saying that I -had thrown my stone not far from a family residence -of relatives of ours—did I not feel it hence a double -disgrace? In answer to this I had thought some time. -Who were those for whom we fought? I seemed -to hear them in my cell, the defenceless ones who -had no one to speak for their hungry need. The -sweated workers, the mothers widowed with little -children, the women on the streets, and I saw that -their backs were bent, their eyes grown sorrowful, -their hearts dead without hope. And they were not -a few, but thousands upon thousands. Side by side -I considered what they could do, what they had done, -where women had the vote. The wife has half her -husband’s wages, by law, and when he does not give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -it, she can have the amount paid direct to her. She -is given money for her children by the State when -her husband dies. When she is not married, if she -has a child she is paid for it, not by the father direct, -but through the public authority, and she has not to -apply to the father for her money. I thought of -all these helpless women, of the Parliament that -had given its theoretic consent for over twenty -years, but refused to pass a Bill, and I thought what -are my relations? I do not know, but if anything, -they are for us, and if they are still asleep, in the fog -of the “don’t know and don’t care,” am I bound to -consider their dreaming?</p> - -<p>I wrote on the wall:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p_line_i0 quote_first">“To defend the oppressed,</div> - <div class="p_line_i0">To fight for the defenceless,</div> - <div class="p_line_i0">Not counting the cost.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="XI" title="CHAPTER XI. NEWCASTLE PRISON: MY SECOND IMPRISONMENT">CHAPTER <abbr title="11">XI</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">NEWCASTLE PRISON: MY SECOND IMPRISONMENT</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next morning, Monday, October 11, we got -up early, with a sense of excitement that we were to -be “tried.” We were allowed to wash in a basin -arrangement all together. The water was cold, but -clean and fresh. The roll towel was horrible, I have -never seen anything so dirty—blood had freely been -wiped upon it. Nothing could surpass the kindness -and civility of the wardresses. One, who thought -only of the hunger-strike, cried as we left. We -were then led off to the cells upstairs, which were -rather cleaner and much lighter. A man came to -mend something outside my window; it was open -and I could see out by two or three square inches. -He looked in at me with great curiosity, but without -ill-will. I had the policeman’s pencil still, and -wrote on a paper to hand up to him that he should -not be afraid of the Suffragettes, but help them to -get the vote. I was still thinking about it when the -police began to rattle the keys, so I refrained, -although it was some time before they came to -fetch me.</p> - -<p>They led us forth to the other side of the building -where the court was. We waited in a passage underneath -it, and were led up in turns to the prisoner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>’s -box. The others, who had done nothing but -break glass, were sentenced to the 3rd Division -and hard labour for fourteen days, and some a -month, without any option. Mrs. Brailsford and -I were both given the alternative of being bound -in money sureties for a year. In reality, this -offered us no alternative, but in the estimation of the -magistrate, I, who had done deliberately most -harm, was given the option of going free, while the -others, who were many of them younger than I was, -first offenders and all had done much less damage -than I had, were prisoners beyond their recall.</p> - -<p>When it was my turn, I was prepared for the -three charges I had seen on the paper the day -before. First came the charge of assault on Sir -Walter Runciman. I said that I did not know it -was Sir Walter Runciman in the car, and that I -threw the stone low down, so that it should not hit -the chauffeur or anyone. They did not take up -this charge. Then came the charge of damage, at -which I was well pleased. But the man facing the -magistrate, the clerk, who conducts most of the -affairs in several courts I have been into, would not -let this charge come on. He said that I had -evidently not intended the damage to the car, and -that part of the case was dismissed. I tried to tell -him that I had no concern for the motor-car, and, -though I didn’t know how a stone so small could -have done so much harm, I was not in the least -concerned over the <abbr title="4 pounds">£4</abbr> worth of damage, but he -would not let me speak and passed on to the third -charge, “disorderly behaviour in a public place.” -I put in, with a loud voice, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>“My disorderly behaviour -of throwing a stone with violence in a public place -was deliberate and intentional.” After this, they -could not but go on with it, since the whole court had -heard what I had said. They apparently treated -me as a lunatic, and began to ask if it was through -not knowing what I was doing that I had thrown a -stone? “If I had not known what I was about to -do, I should not have held a stone in my hand,” I -answered.</p> - -<p>I had made up my mind, at one time of the trial, -that I would deny the tales that had circulated -about the Suffragettes and Mr. Lloyd George’s -children. It had been said that we tried to kidnap -them, that we had wished for their illness, and all -kinds of invented evil. Who are the Suffragettes -that they should make war on children? If the -child of Mr. Lloyd George were ill or in any way -suffering, we were sorry, we were sympathetic, as -with every other child, and we were sad for him as -the loving father of that child. I tried to speak, when -I first was called on, and repeatedly afterwards, -but I was always stopped and could get no innings. -Finally, the magistrates convicted me of “disorderly -behaviour with intent to disturb the peace,” -and bound me over, myself in the sum of <abbr title="50 pounds">£50</abbr> and -two sureties of <abbr title="$2 pounds">£25</abbr> each, to be enforced for twelve -months; in default, one month’s imprisonment in -the 2nd Division. I, of course, had no option of -finding sureties for twelve months, and was sentenced -to the month’s imprisonment. My companion, -Miss Davison, was dismissed, as she had literally -done nothing.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brailsford, who had struck at the barricade<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -with an axe, was also given the option of being -bound over, which she, of course, refused, with the -alternative of a month’s imprisonment in the -2nd Division. She had not, as I had, committed -any offence before. She was a splendid woman -who had gone out to help with the Macedonian -relief fund in 1903. She had fed the hungry and -nursed the sick and wounded until she contracted -typhus fever. The whole “trial” was unworthy -of the name—it was a device whereby Mrs. Brailsford -and I should be separated from the others and -treated with more respect, I having been the only -one to do a glaring act and an, apparently, harmful -or greatly risky one. The others, without exception, -were treated to the 3rd Division.</p> - -<p>We were put again into a van, but had only a -short way to drive. We were shown into a passage -of the prison where the governor came and spoke -to us. He was very civil, and begged us not to go -on the hunger-strike. Then the Matron came, a -charming and very refined woman, who walked with -a stick, being lame. Miss Davison had headed our -little band of twelve; when she was dismissed, Miss -Dorothy Pethick, Mrs. Pethick Lawrence’s youngest -sister, was our head and spoke for us. Her face had -all the beauty that freshness, youth and grace could -give it, and with it all for her age—she was twenty-seven—there -was a wonderful strength about it. -She spoke civilly to the Governor, but in a very -determined way. He could not do enough for us. -“Don’t break your windows—please don’t break -your windows.” <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>“We will not break them if they -can open. You must understand that we have -come here, not to please ourselves; we have pleaded -for windows to open in the cells through two years -in vain. Now we break the glass to make more -sure. It is for the poor things who are shut up in -these little cells for weeks and months at a time. -Whether they know it or not, their bodies know it—it -is all that is bad for them to sleep and live in a -room supposed to be ventilated, without a window, -and to be given a book telling them elaborately how -a window may be kept open in all weathers by -placing a board in front of it on a slant, will not -make things any better. And what is more, if you -feed us by force, we shall break every window we -can lay hands on.” “Very well,” said the Governor, -“choose your own cells; come round and see.” -Then, with the Governor and Matron, we went -round. Several cells were shown to us. We were -left in some that were small but new—the windows -did not open. Finally, Mrs. Brailsford and I were -taken to different cells on the ground floor where we -were separated completely from the others. We -were allowed to have our doors open all the time, -and some iron gates only shut us in. Compared with -Holloway, their good manners made a great difference, -but the kindness about the cells was mostly -put on; at least, they had not windows that opened, -so they could do little. Mrs. Brailsford and I had -cells next door to each other, we spoke together -frequently all day. The wardresses were dear -northern women, affectionate in their ways. The -Matron we found to be even more charming than she -looked. She took Mrs. Brailsford and me for -exercise, and we talked to her nearly the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -time. She was quite a Suffragette and understood -our rebellion.</p> - -<p>There was no attempt to put us into prison -clothes; we had small packages of things with us. -My underclothes were not all that one could wish -after two days and nights in the police-station cells. -They were amongst other things covered with fleas, -and I had at my trial, and on various occasions, -become exceedingly hot, which, now that the hunger-strike -had begun, was exchanged for extreme cold. -The prospect of a month in them as they were was -extremely undesirable. I wrote to the Home Secretary, -as I was told this was the only means, but I -knew that anything I asked for from him might as -well be let alone.</p> - -<p>The first day, Tuesday, was fairly fine. At -exercise in the morning we looked around and we -noticed some broken glass windows. We shouted -“Votes for Women, Hurrah! Hurrah!” but were -not sure of any response. They had put our companions, -of two days before us, into the punishment -cells. We were scarcely back in our cells before -there were hasty footsteps; they slammed our -doors shut, we could only dimly hear the steps as -they passed our cells and then above. Soon after -we heard shrieks, always coming from the same -direction. It seemed as if the others were being fed -by force. During about half an hour the sounds -were terrible. Then the doctors, two of them, came -to us. They had on white jackets, as if they had just -come from an operation, as indeed they had. I said -to them, “You have been feeding our friends by -force?” One of them answered, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>“Well, yes, we -were bound to have a food trial with one or two of -them.” They felt my pulse, first one, then the -other; they felt it over again, then they went out. -Mrs. Brailsford and I discussed the feeding of our -friends, which had sounded most awful; we did not -know what to do. We had, of course, not touched -any food since our breakfast in the police-station cells. -We ourselves had met with nothing but kindness.</p> - -<p>The knotting in my stomach from lack of food -was fairly painful by the second night. Whenever -I fell asleep I woke with my knees curled under my -chin. I had also a great aching in my back, probably -through fatigue and the plank bed in the police-station. -The night wardress was very kind to me. I -asked once if she couldn’t come in and rub my back -just a little. “Why, my dear, the gate’s locked -and I have nae got the key.” Mrs. Brailsford said -she felt well in every way, save that she could do -nothing but think of the other prisoners who were -being fed by force. When we walked round the -exercise yard on Wednesday morning it was snowing -hard. It made me think of Robert Buchanan’s -poem, “<cite class="plain">The Ballade of Judas Iscariot</cite>.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p_line_i0 quote_first">“’Twas the wedding guests cried out within,</div> - <div class="p_line_i2">And their eyes were fierce and bright—</div> - <div class="p_line_i0">‘Scourge the soul of Judas Iscariot</div> - <div class="p_line_i2">Away into the night!’</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p_line_i0 quote_first">“The Bridegroom stood in the open door,</div> - <div class="p_line_i2">And he waved hands still and slow,</div> - <div class="p_line_i0">And the third time that he waved his hands</div> - <div class="p_line_i2">The air was thick with snow.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p_line_i0 quote_first">“And of every flake of falling snow</div> - <div class="p_line_i2">Before it touched the ground,</div> - <div class="p_line_i0">There came a dove, and a thousand doves</div> - <div class="p_line_i2">Made sweet doves’ sound.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p_line_i0 quote_first">“’Twas the body of Judas Iscariot -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></div> - <div class="p_line_i2">Floated away full fleet,</div> - <div class="p_line_i0">And the wings of the dove that bore it off</div> - <div class="p_line_i2">Were like its winding-sheet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="p_line_i0 quote_first">“’Twas the Bridegroom stood at the open door</div> - <div class="p_line_i2">And beckon’d, smiling sweet;</div> - <div class="p_line_i0">’Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot</div> - <div class="p_line_i2">Stole in, and fell at his feet.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>As I looked upon that dreary scene I saw the -prison walls, the cell windows, looking more like -tiny shutters, the infinitesimal small windows of the -punishment cells in the ground below where we -were. The Matron stood on a ledge above us. She -was considerate and kind in all her ways. We were -either alone and quite unguarded or else she was -with us. One evening, when a wardress was letting -me back into my cell, I heard the most melancholy -sound of a woman calling out to herself again and -again, in a tone of uttermost misery. As always, -I thought, in a prison, no one answered her, no one -said anything. Presently there came the Matron’s -consoling voice. Very gently I heard it on the floor -above ours, it sounded almost like a mother’s voice: -“Oh! there is that poor woman again. Can’t you -some of you go and comfort her?” And some -one did, for all was quiet after that. I watched -at my gate all day, and was pleased to notice that -the prisoners who worked outside the cells moved -happily, ran about with a springing step and -seemed like ordinary servants about their work. -How different this was from Holloway!</p> - -<p>The first morning the Chaplain came to visit me. -He was a pleasant-looking man, with a fine beard. -He laughed as he told me he was the father of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -fifteen children; he said this as he left. I longed -to tell him I hoped that he had had at least two -wives to bring them into the world!</p> - -<p>The second morning, Wednesday, October 13, -when the doctors came, I stood in the corner of my -cell with my arms crossed and my fingers caught in -my nostrils and my mouth. It was the best position -I knew of for them not to be able to feed me by -nose or mouth without having first a considerable -struggle. They came, and after I saw that they had -no tube I came out from my corner and let them -both look at my heart. They thumped, each of -them in turn, and felt my pulse as well. Then they -appeared to be agreed and went out. I said to -them, “You seemed to be puzzled by my heart; I -can tell you about it if you like.” But they had -made up their minds about something, and did not -want any help from me. Later in the day they came -in again with another man in their company. I was -again in the corner, my hands in my mouth and nose, -but they brought no feeding things. At first I -thought the third man was another prison official; -but soon, from the way they talked to him, I -gathered that he was an outside doctor, apparently -from London. He was very civil. He tapped my -heart repeatedly and then brought out a tube, -which at first I thought was a feeding tube, but it was -only another way of testing the heart. He was -about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes over -the whole thing, then they went out.</p> - -<p>As I had no answer from the Home Office, though -I had written on the Monday of my arrival in the -prison, I thought I would begin to wash some of my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -things, as the doctors would not come back unless to -feed me, and that would be nearer six o’clock. I -washed my brush and a few other things in the large -pail of my cell, then asked if I might empty it, and -as I did this, I held the things some seconds under -the tap. It was only cold water, of course, but I was -glad of even that. I then put them on the chair to -dry as best they might, and lay down on my plank -bed, for the pain in my back was terrible, when a -wardress came in and announced that I was released, -because of the state of my heart! Though this was -fairly evident from the visit of the outside doctor, I -had not realised it. I gathered my things together -and went out. I called to Mrs. Brailsford; she was -released too. We were put to wait in the Governor’s -room; he was not there. We wondered if we were -the only two to be released, and if so, why not the -others? How about the heart of Nurse Pitman, -who was close on sixty, or of Miss Brown, who had -only just been released from a recent hunger-strike! -Mrs. Brailsford had seen a doctor before -she came on this expedition to Newcastle, and he -had declared her absolutely sound in every way, so -we did not know why she was released, except for -the fact that she was, through her husband, closely -connected with Liberal journalism and herself -had the noblest reputation for public service in -Macedonia. I had heart disease, though only -slightly; it had been marked in me since the -Deputation on which I had been to the House of -Commons, at the beginning of this year. But I was -not in so bad a condition as either Nurse Pitman or -Miss Brown. After a time the news came that we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -were the only two released! Poor Mrs. Brailsford -was so overcome at this news that she was unable -to drink the glass of hot milk that was given to us -before we were let out. The Governor came back to -his room. He had always told us how keen he was -for the vote, and he seemed very glad for us that we -were to be released. The cab was ready and we -drove away, I think at about 3.30 in the afternoon. -It seemed appalling to go and to leave the others in -prison, to the hunger-strike and to forcible feeding.</p> - -<p>Nurse Pitman and Miss Brown were released the -next day. It was not possible to understand for -what reason they should have been kept twenty-four -hours longer on hunger-strike than Mrs. Brailsford -and myself; the only reason that we could see was -that our names were known, theirs were not!</p> - -<p>The only thing which made an impression on me, -not told in the above, was that once the wardress -led me out to one of the lavatories. Just in front -of it a woman had been sick, and I was taken away -to another. It showed the great loneliness of -prison life. There, in rows thickly set all around -me, were the cells, in each a prisoner. One had been -taken out immediately before I had, but she was put -back and all the cells were locked before I came. -The mystery was intense, the silence, the loneliness -as great as they could be.</p> - -<p>My sister, Betty Balfour, came from Scotland to -see if she could do anything to help me when she -heard that I was in prison. She was convinced that -I should not be forcibly fed because of the state of my -heart, but that I should be let out after a day or two -of hunger-strike. It was delightful to be with her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -and the next day we travelled south together to my -home.</p> - -<p>In December I went to speak at Glasgow, and -Dr. Marion Gilchrist listened to my heart. This -was her verdict: “I have examined Lady Constance -Lytton’s heart and find she has a chronic valvular -lesion, but it is acting well in spite of the fact that -she has just undergone great exertion.” She said -it was easily understood why I had been let out of -Newcastle Prison.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter figcenter" id="jane"> - <img src="images/jane_warton.jpg" alt="Jane Warton" width="248" height="600" /> - <p class="caption">Jane Warton</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="XII" title="CHAPTER XII. JANE WARTON">CHAPTER <abbr title="12">XII</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">JANE WARTON</span></h2> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Under a Government which imprisons any unjustly, -the true place for a just man (or woman) is also a prison.”</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">I was</span> sent to Liverpool and Manchester to join -in working an Anti-Government campaign during -a General Election in January, 1910. Just before -I went, there came the news of the barbarous -ill-treatment of Miss Selina Martin and Miss Leslie -Hall, while on remand in Walton Gaol. They had -been refused bail, and, while awaiting their trial, -their friends were not allowed to communicate with -them. This is contrary to law and precedent for -prisoners on remand. As a protest they had started -a hunger-strike. They were fed by force, in answer -to which they broke the windows of their cells. -They were put in irons for days and nights together, -and one of them was frog-marched in the most -brutal fashion to and from the room where the -forcible feeding was performed. These facts they -made known to their friends at the police court on -the day of their trial.</p> - -<p>I heard, too, of another prisoner in Liverpool, -Miss Bertha Brewster, who had been re-arrested -after her release from prison, and charged with -breaking the windows of her prison cell, which -she had done as a protest against being fed by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -force. She had been punished for this offence while -in prison. She did not respond to the summons, -and when arrested on a warrant, three and a half -months later, she was sentenced to six weeks’ hard -labour for this offence.</p> - -<p>I felt a great wish to be in Liverpool, if possible, -to get public opinion in that town to protest against -such treatment of women political prisoners. If I -failed in this, I determined myself to share the fate -of these women.</p> - -<p>When I was in Manchester, Mary Gawthorpe was -ill with the internal complaint which has since -obliged her to give up work. She saw me in her -room one day. We had been distressed beyond -words to hear of the sufferings of Selina Martin and -Leslie Hall. Mary Gawthorpe said, with tears in -her eyes, as she threw her arms round me: “Oh, -and these are women quite unknown—nobody -knows or cares about them except their own friends. -They go to prison again and again to be treated like -this, until it kills them!” That was enough. My -mind was made up. The altogether shameless way -I had been preferred against the others at Newcastle, -except Mrs. Brailsford who shared with me the -special treatment, made me determine to try -whether they would recognise my need for exceptional -favours without my name.</p> - -<p>Our meetings were always crowded and enthusiastic, -especially in Manchester. This was my first -experience of meetings in a really poverty-stricken -district. I never shall forget one in the Salford -Division of Manchester. A small room was packed -as close as it would hold of the poorest working<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> -women. How eagerly and intelligently they listened, -and what a wonderful light came into their eyes as -the hope dawned in their minds: “Can it be that -Parliament would really begin to think of <em>us</em> and -attend to <em>our</em> interests?” All their questions were -to the point and practical. How different was -the atmosphere from that of the typical drawing-room -meeting, where many women came together -with the remark: “I am all for <em>propertied</em> women -having the vote,” but their fear is lest the electorate -should be flooded with working women voters. I -have never yet been asked by a working-class -woman whether our Bill, to give votes to women for -the same reason as men have it, would not give -undue power to propertied women. That is a man’s -question, though often taken over by women of the -leisured or professional class who identify themselves -with the objections of theoretic politicians. -To the working-class women the matter presents -itself easily and naturally, as it actually is—a -woman’s question, not a class question. To have -their right to labour unrestricted, their protection -controlled by themselves, their economic position -independent and on the straightforward footing of -being judged by its value and by that alone; their -property, earnings, and their persons to be defended -by law, and their right over their children to be -acknowledged by law. In fact, their freedom as -human beings, their full recognition as equal -members of the community with men—that is how -the Votes-for-Women question appeals to them. -They see it neither as a party question nor as a -class question.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> - -<p>Suddenly I had my opportunity. The Press and -the people in each different constituency were entirely -engrossed with the elections. Up till now, protest -meetings were being held by our Union every week -outside Walton Gaol, Liverpool. These were not -held during the elections, but I told the Liverpool -organiser, Miss Flatman, and the general organiser, -Mrs. Jennie Baines, that if they would have one -more of these protest meetings on Friday, January 14, -it was my intention to go in disguise, call upon the -crowd to follow me to the Governor’s house, and -insist upon the release of the Suffrage prisoners -who had been tortured by forcible feeding. It was -not our wont to do any militancy or to hold any -protest meetings during election time, that being a -time, as it were, when no Government is in, but it -seemed to me that this was the opportunity to make -the Governor of the prison responsible. It was a -case of nothing less than cruelty and did not specially -concern, unless they chose to back it up, the Government.</p> - -<p>I joined the W.S.P.U. again, filling up the -membership card as Miss Jane Warton. The -choice of a name had been easy. When I came out -of Holloway Prison, a distant relative, by name -Mr. F. Warburton, wrote me an appreciative letter, -thanking me for having been a prisoner in this -cause. I determined that if it were necessary to go -to prison under another name, I should take the -name of Warburton. When I went to Newcastle, -my family raised no objection. Now nobody was -to know of my disguise, but Warburton was too -distinguished a name; that would at once attract<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -attention. I must leave out the “bur” and make -it “Warton.” “Jane” was the name of Joan of -Arc (for <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jeanne</span> is more often translated into -“Jane” than “Joan”) and would bring me comfort -in distress. A family sympathetic to our cause, -who lived in the suburb near Walton Gaol, were -informed that a keen member, Miss Warton, would -call at their house in the afternoon before the -protest meeting, to investigate the outside of the -gaol and the Governor’s house by daylight, and that -she was ready to be arrested if she could not obtain -the release of the prisoners.</p> - -<p>I spent the previous day and night in Manchester -where no one knew of my intentions. In the afternoon, -at a drawing-room meeting, I was introduced, -after I had spoken, to a woman who was a factory -inspector. She had very often to attend in the -police courts. She said to me: “I think it is -impossible to attend these cases, and hear the other -cases while you wait, and not be a convert to votes -for women if you were not one before. The other -day a man and two women were had up before the -magistrate. They had been found in the street, the -man and one woman had been cohabiting together, -the other woman mounted guard. The case was -quite clear, and the facts were not denied, the man -had bribed the women. The man was let free, the -two women were sent to prison. If women had the -vote such things could not be; in those countries -where women have the vote they get altered in less -than a year.”</p> - -<p>In the evening we went to a meeting in a large -hall. It was full of working men and working<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -women; it looked as if there were not room to move, -so crowded were the seats and gangways. They -were tremendously enthusiastic, many of them -shook me by the hand, and the thought of them -remained for a long time in my heart.</p> - -<p>The next morning I took leave of my two kind -hostesses. Their last injunction to me was, the -agitation of my impending task having affected my -appetite, “You should eat more; mind you eat -more.”</p> - -<p>I accomplished my disguise in Manchester, going -to a different shop for every part of it, for -safety’s sake. I had noticed several times while I -was in prison that prisoners of unprepossessing -appearance obtained least favour, so I was determined -to put ugliness to the test. I had my hair -cut short and parted, in early Victorian fashion, in -smooth bands down the side of my face. This, combined -with the resentful bristles of my newly-cut -back hair, produced a curious effect. I wished to -bleach my hair as well, but the hairdresser refused -point-blank to do this, and the stuff that I bought -for the purpose at a chemist’s proved quite ineffective. -A tweed hat, a long green cloth coat, which -I purchased for <abbr title="8 shillings and sixpence">8<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></abbr>, a woollen scarf and woollen -gloves, a white silk neck-kerchief, a pair of pince-nez -spectacles, a purse, a net-bag to contain some -of my papers, and my costume was complete. I -had removed my own initials from my underclothing, -and bought the ready-made initials “J. W.” to -sew on in their stead, but to my regret I had not -time to achieve this finishing touch.</p> - -<p>All this sounds simple enough, but I suppose it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -was due to my preoccupation of mind that I have -never known a day’s shopping fraught with such -complications and difficulties. At the frowzy little -hairdresser’s shop, the only one that seemed to me -inconspicuous enough for so important a part of my -disguise, the attendant was busy, and I had to -return in an hour’s time. I told him that I was -going a journey and wanted the hair short, since -that would be less trouble. He cut it off. Then I -wanted what remained to be worn in a parting, with -the hair falling straight on either side. This part -of the process was most absurd, for that way -of wearing my hair was obviously disfiguring to -me. “Ah! now that looks very becoming,” said -the hairdresser, and with that I left the shop in -haste.</p> - -<p>The eye-glasses I had first bought made me feel -giddy from the quality of the lens. I had to take -them back and have the glasses changed to the -weakest possible. At the first place, in spite of all -my protests, the shopman insisted on elaborately -testing my sight, afterwards requiring me to wait -for half an hour or so while he fitted up the glasses. -So I went to another shop, and in self-defence -invented the story that the glasses were for stage -purposes, for a friend of mine who had very good -sight, and that if she was not to trip up in her part -the glasses must be as nearly plain as possible. -This time I was more successful with the lens, but -the grip of the folders was still galling to the very -large bridge of my nose.</p> - -<p>When I had finished this errand I was startled -to see walking along the street one of my kind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -hostesses, whom I had parted from early that -morning, professedly to return to Liverpool without -delay. I took refuge down a side-street until she -had passed by. Then I had strayed into the more -opulent quarters of Manchester, in my search for -another spectacle shop. All the shops were of a -high-class order, and Jane Warton could find nothing -to her requirements. On inquiry for a “cheap” -draper, three different people recommended me to -a certain shop named “Lewis.” A sale was on -there and Jane found that it was the very place -for her. So many Miss Wartons were of the -same mind that the street was blocked with customers -for some distance down; but I was obliged -to wait, for no other shop was of the same description. -The hat was a special difficulty; every article -of millinery was of the fashionable order, warranted -to cover half the body as well as the head. This did -not suit Jane. Finally she succeeded in getting the -right one of stitched cloth, with a plait of cloth -round the crown. Before leaving Manchester I -realised that my ugly disguise was a success. I was -an object of the greatest derision to street-boys, and -shop-girls could hardly keep their countenances -while serving me.</p> - -<p>I had done my shopping at last, and hurried off -to the station. I took out my box, put in it my -own hat and jacket, put on the label “Miss Jane -Warton, Cloak Room,” and left it there. In the -refreshment room, where I went to take a last -hurried meal, a delightful big, brown dog, a mongrel, -came and talked to me. He was with a party -of two men and a woman, who sat at a distant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> -corner of the room. The dog came up to me at -once; he put his head on my lap and was most -dear.</p> - -<p>After this I got into the train. I finished a letter -to my mother, telling her of yesterday’s meetings -and that I might not write to her for some little -time because of being so busy with the elections.</p> - -<p>Arrived at Liverpool, and not knowing my way -to Walton, I took a cab and drove out for nearly -an hour before reaching my destination. I was -already racing hard with daylight and, thanks to a -damp fog, it was already quite dark when I arrived -there.</p> - -<p>The house to which I had been directed was -in a new quarter and nowhere to be found. We -drove up and down the roads and inquired at shops -and post offices. Presently I spotted the familiar -sight of a woman stooping to chalk on the pavement -some announcement—it was our protest meeting. -I felt happy again, it was like seeing a friend. She -turned out to be one of the daughters of the very -house I was seeking. There were three daughters -who lived with their mother. The daughters were -zealots and welcomed Jane without a sign of -criticism. I saw the mother gasp a little when I -entered her drawing-room, but she was nevertheless -most courteous and kind.</p> - -<p>I was escorted to the gaol and took my bearings. -To anyone who has been in prison, few things, I -think, are more exasperating than the unrevealing -face of the outer walls. On this occasion I felt an -overmastering longing to inquire after the prisoners -who had stirred me to my coming deed. What was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -the degree of their suffering and exhaustion? What -should I be able to do for their release? If by some -miracle I obtained it, would it be too late to help -them? I thought more especially of Miss Selina -Martin. I had seen her in Birmingham a fortnight -after her release from the weeks that she had been -fed in the prison there. She was in the nursing -home, together with Mrs. Leigh, that splendid -fighter for the women’s cause and most heroic -woman. Their look of illness haunted me still. -The idea that Selina Martin was again, perhaps at -that very moment, undergoing the same cruel treatment -exasperated me. I felt so feeble, had so -little faith in the utility of what I was about to do, -yet I was athirst to do it, and the strength of my -wish that it should be effective made me feel, -at moments, capable of anything. But to all -this the prison walls had nothing to say. They -revealed nothing. They looked angry with all -the world, angry above all because of an uneasy -conscience.</p> - -<p>I returned to the house of my friends, selected -from their garden small, flat stones in case of need, -which I wrapped in paper, and snatched a hasty meal. -My kind hostess had heard that I was a vegetarian, -and had provided a most appetising dish of stewed -white pears. My mouth was parched with the -weary work of the day and the thought of what lay -before me, but I had no time except to taste the -pears; the memory of them during the hunger-strike -filled my dreams.</p> - -<p>Again we set out for the prison. All through -the day I had been dogged by the nightmare<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -thought that I should be too late for the meeting, -or for some other reason should be prevented -from achieving my purpose. As we neared the -place, a crowd of between two and three hundred -men and women were following the carriage in -which were our speakers. It had been agreed -that I should mix with the crowd, not join with the -speakers, but at the end of the meeting should have -my say from below. I passed the carriage to report -myself to the organisers. Many of our members -were standing around, but I think most of them did -not recognise me, except from my voice later on.</p> - -<p>Miss Flatman, Miss Patricia Woodlock and Mrs. -Baines made stirring speeches, but the crowd had -mostly gathered out of curiosity and were not many -of them likely to listen to my coming appeal. I was -afraid lest they should disperse before I had my -chance, so I rudely interrupted Mrs. Baines and -spoke from the outer rim of the crowd, on the side -of the Governor’s house.</p> - -<p>I reminded the audience of how the men of -Dundee, when forcible feeding of Suffrage prisoners -was threatened in that town, had assembled to -the number of two thousand and protested -against it. How thereupon the hunger-strikers -had been released and no forcible feeding to our -women had been inflicted in Scotland. Could not -Englishmen have done the same? Let the men -of Liverpool be the first to wipe out the stain that -had been tolerated up till now. We were outside -the gaol where these and other barbarities were -actually going on. The Home Secretary had denied -responsibility and asserted that it rested with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -prison officials. Let us put this to the test and call -upon the Governor of the prison to release these -women. No violence was needed, but let us go to -his house, insist upon his replying to our request -and refuse to be dispersed until he had released -these women. “If there are no men in Liverpool -who will stand up for these prisoners, let the women -do their part—I call on you all to follow me to the -Governor’s house.” With this I turned towards the -house, a separate building surrounded by a little -garden. To my surprise, the crowd began to -follow me. Again I shouted out to them—“No -violence, remember, but call for the Governor and -refuse to be dispersed till you have secured the -release of the prisoners.”</p> - -<p>A policeman began leisurely to follow me; -there were only two or three of them about. -I took to running and urged on the crowd. -The police then took hold of me. As for once -it was my object above all else to get arrested -and imprisoned, I began discharging my stones, not -throwing them, but limply dropping them over the -hedge into the Governor’s garden. One of them just -touched the shoulder of a man who had rushed up -on seeing me arrested. I apologised to him. Two -policemen then held me fast by the arms and -marched me off to the police station. The crowd -followed excitedly, and our members gathered -round me, appealing for my release and saying that -I had done nothing.</p> - -<p>It had been agreed with the organisers that -I should be the only one arrested. As I have -said, militant tactics were in abeyance because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -of the elections, the less disturbance was made, -therefore, the better; as it was, I feared lest my -action, being out of the straight course, should be -displeasing to the leaders. I said to the other -members: “I am all right, don’t bother about me, -but take the crowd back to the Governor’s house.” -I did not wish to be recognised.</p> - -<p>As they marched me off at a great pace, the -police, who were very civil and considerate, questioned -me: “What was you a-doin’? You -weren’t in the carriage with the others, were you? -What was that you was sayin’?” They knew -they would have to make up a charge against me, -and wisely thought the best plan was to ask me -direct for information! I told them that I made -towards the Governor’s house, appealed to the -crowd to follow, and refused to desist when called -upon by the police. I feared that this might not be -enough to achieve a conviction. I was thinking, -“Was there nothing else?” when the man appeared -whose shoulder had been touched by my stone; he -carried the missile in his hand, still wrapped in the -purple hand-bill announcing this very meeting, -no doubt a most evil-looking document in the -eyes of the authorities. I knew then that I -was safe.</p> - -<p>Presently, two others who had been arrested were -brought in. It was a most unlooked-for consolation -to have their company through the night, though I -hoped, of course, that they would be let off and not -share the rest of the ordeal with me. Two of the -members, on hearing my voice, determined that I -should not be alone, so they returned, and one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -them poked a flag through a window in the Governor’s -house, breaking the glass; the other mounted -guard while she did this. They were both arrested. -One was Miss Elsie Howey, a valiant as well as -most dear one of our members; the other was a -local member, who gave the name of Mrs. Nugent. -I had twice stayed with her and her husband when -at Liverpool. She was not only most charming, -but also of attractive appearance, which awoke -a great deal of curiosity in the police as to her -identity, and luckily drew off all possible suspicions -from me.</p> - -<p>We all played up to the situation; Elsie Howey -and I treated her with deference, as a person -of great importance; we nicknamed her “the -Princess.”</p> - -<p>The police were exceptionally friendly to us, -although they were punctilious as to the regulations. -For instance, Miss Howey and I were suffering from -bad colds and had eucalyptus inhalers in our -pockets. We were not allowed to keep these; they -were removed with other things, such as a purse, -stylo pen, brooches, watch, etc. We were all three -allowed to be together and away from other prisoners, -locked into a cell of the usual police-station description—that -is, unfurnished but for the bare plank, -serving as seat or bed, along the wall, and about -one and a-half feet from the ground, terminating in -a lavatory accommodation under a high-barred -window, but now lighted by an electric light in -the wall above the door. This cell was scrupulously -clean and blankets were supplied to us. Our -friends sent us some sandwiches and fruit, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -the police themselves provided us with an evening -newspaper.</p> - -<p>We had been arrested at about 8 o’clock; the -police station was some distance from Walton, so it -was getting on for 9 o’clock when we were at last -shut up after the charges were reported and entered, -and we had been stripped by a wardress of our -small belongings.</p> - -<p>The quick walk from the scene of our arrest, -hurried along between two policemen, had been a -warming process, after which the cold in the cell -seemed intense. The bench being wider than most -in police-station cells, Mrs. Nugent lay down at -one end, while Elsie Howey and I lay side by side -under the same blanket and warmed each other. -Mrs. Nugent and Elsie kept up an animated conversation. -Elsie told anecdotes of her former -imprisonments and those of the fellow-prisoners. I -was short of breath and fearfully tired, so I rolled -round and kept quite quiet.</p> - -<p>At about 12 o’clock the husband of Mrs. -Nugent had heard of her arrest, and came off -to the police station to see her. He came to the -door of our cell and was greatly distressed. It -was ever so nice to see him. His visit had -caused a great deal of concern amongst the -police, who recognised him as one of the magistrates. -He put himself out to do what he could, -and we offered him the comforting news that we -were almost sure that his wife would get off, as she -had done nothing at all. With that, as his wife was -kept standing at the little window so long as he was -there, he felt obliged to leave us.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> - -<p>Towards about 3 a.m. we were taken out of the -cell and ranged along a seat by the wall of a large -room; at the other end was a desk with a policeman -sitting at it. We went up in turn to give our -names, ages, etc., that is, about seven or eight other -prisoners, all females, and our three selves. It was -the turn of Jane Warton. She walked across to the -policeman, one shoulder hitched slightly above the -other, her hair sticking out straight behind and -worn in slick bandeaus on either side of her face, her -hat trailing in a melancholy way on her head. The -large, grey woollen gloves were drawn up over -the too short sleeves of her coat; on the collar of -it were worn portraits of Mrs. Pankhurst, Mrs. -Lawrence and Christabel, in small china brooches; -her hat had a bit of tape with “Votes for Women” -written on it, interlaced with the cloth plait that -went round it, and eye-glasses were fixed on her -nose. Her standing out in the room was the signal -for a convulsed titter from the other prisoners. -“It’s a shame to laugh at one of your fellow-prisoners,” -said the policeman behind the desk, and -the tittering was hushed. It was all I could do not -to laugh, and I thought to myself “Is the <cite>Punch</cite> -version of a Suffragette overdone?” As I got back -to my companions they too were laughing, but I -thought it wonderfully kind of the policeman to -have spoken on my behalf.</p> - -<p>When this process was finished, we three Suffragettes -were taken to the policemen’s room, where -there was a good fire, to wait for our Black Maria. -The other prisoners had disappeared. The police -sat round and spoke quite pleasantly; there were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -two or three of them at times. We discussed the -chances of women getting the vote, they seemed -quite in favour. Elsie Howey and Mrs. Nugent did -most of the talking. I warmed myself and saw the -police looking at me from time to time, wondering -why I did not talk too.</p> - -<p>At about 3.30 a.m. or 4 o’clock, Black Maria -came and we were put in. This was different from -the prison vans I had hitherto seen; it was not -broken up into separate cell-like compartments, -but was in the form of a double omnibus, one side -for men and the other for women, divided by a thin -wooden partition, each side having two seats facing -each other and extending the length of the carriage. -There were no windows; the light filtered in only -through the grated ventilators. When we got into -this Black Maria there was no one but us three, -but we were told to sit near the door, so Mrs. -Nugent sat first, then Elsie Howey, and then -myself. The jolting of the van is excessive and -suggests a complete absence of springs, the noise of -its passage through the streets is terrific, to the -point of excluding all other sounds—a noise of -thundering wheels, of jolts and jars and bumps. -I have not yet made out the reason why 3.30 a.m. -was selected, none was given at the time to the -prisoners.</p> - -<p>Our destination was the Bridewell Police Station, -but we called on our way at the other police stations -in the town, picking up whatever unfortunates they -had netted during the night. We called at four -different stations, if I remember right. The drive in -all took about an hour, and seemed a very long one.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> - -<p>We had not gone far before the rumbling and -jolting ceased, the door was thrown open with a -sound of keys and great rattling, a shaft of light fell -along the ’bus, and lit up momentarily ourselves -and those who were thrown in to add to our number. -These were the only moments when the occupants -had a chance of seeing each other. The door then -hastily closed again, darkness, jolting and noise -reasserted their grim influence. Drunken voices, -the smell of the gin palace, an occasional query and -reply shouted through the thin wall to the men on -the other side, that was all. Knee to knee, and -breath to breath we sat, companions of this world -of darkness, fellow-sisters of the order of the -outcasts. Before we had finished, we had taken -up six women in all.</p> - -<p>At the first stop, two Irish girls were let in; -some men were put into the other side. The girls -were only sufficiently drunk to make them intensely -cheerful; they laughed and talked gaily at first and -shouted lustily to their companions on the other -side. But the effect of the pitch darkness was -depressing, and after a time their communications -ceased. They sat opposite to us near the door, -and whenever there was a gleam of light I watched -them, for they gave me immense pleasure. They -were quite young, with beautiful arms, which one -could see as their sleeves were rolled up; they had -shawls on, and their faces were fresh and strong, and -pretty, too, had it not been for the effect of the -drink; they were as far removed as possible from -the degraded town type, in every way they were -healthy specimens, fresh from an Irish fishing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -village. They spoke to us several times, and there -was a delightful feeling that disguise or no disguise -did not matter with them, but it was difficult to -hear what they said in the fearful noise of the Black -Maria, and we felt that our answers were mostly -lost on them. They put the question in a friendly -way: “What did you get taken up for?” “We’re -Suffragettes,” was the all-sufficient reply. This was -very interesting, and they had to try to tell the men -on the other side, with many a laugh, as a tremendous -bit of news.</p> - -<p>At another stop, a little woman got in with fair -hair, a fluttering white boa, and in a white dress. -She was dead drunk, but whereas the others -smelt of cheap drink, her breath was of good -brandy. She laughed, and now and then gave vent -to a half sentence or two that rolled in and out -of her sleep.</p> - -<p>At the next stop, two were shot in who -seemed really deformed with poverty, their complexions -yellow, their hands gnarled and worn, -their faces of utmost sadness. They said something -to each other as they got in—something to -give comfort, but their sentences were full of oaths -of a senseless kind, and their speech, too, was broken -with drink.</p> - -<p>Finally, it was another type altogether who was -let in. A woman who looked any age, her face of -utmost melancholy had yet the appearance of -having drunk heavily; she had all the hang of an -“habitual,” her clothes were the dregs of clothes -and tumbling off her. When the door was opened -for her to be put in, she murmured a few broken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> -words to the effect that her salvation didn’t lie in -prison.</p> - -<p>The Irish girls and the little woman with the white -boa were young, the others looked old and worn out.</p> - -<p>I think I shall never forget the self-reproach that -stung through my whole being when I had thought -my intervention necessary between one prisoner -and another. On passing some unusual light in -the street, which momentarily lit up our van, not -enough to see our faces but only to distinguish the -outlines of forms, I noticed that the prisoner -opposite to Elsie Howey, my neighbour, was leaning -forward and bent towards her. The momentary -flash of light was too short-lived to judge whether -this was a rapid movement perhaps, as I thought, -of assault or drunken affection, or whether it was -that the position of physical weariness could find -no rest from leaning back on the walls of the jolting -van. I was unable to see Elsie, but I imagined -that she too might be scared by the attention of the -prisoner opposite. As the darkness closed in upon -us, I thrust my hand into hers; it was welcomed, -but quite unnecessary. Before the end of our drive -two things were clear—the prisoners might be evil-minded -towards all the rest of the world, they -might be blind drunk or raging with misery at their -own plight, but the one thing impossible to them -would have been to hurt a fellow-prisoner. Every one -of those pathetic human wrecks, deformed by drink, -so that one could not tell if they were guilty of -crime besides, overtaken at a moment when their -self-respect was lowest, and captured by a punitive -system which would do its utmost to dissolve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -what remained of it, as they were thrust into the -black cavity of the van, made a vigorous appeal to -their own courage and met with instant response -from their unknown companions. It might be only -some drunken joke, it was almost invariably accompanied -by a laugh, but for each one it had a call on -their inmost strength, and it made its appeal to -those in the van. Issuing from different spheres of -existence, each one representing lives the most -remote from one another, scarcely any two alike in -a single respect as to detail, their one point of -similarity being poverty and that they had given -way to drink, the instinct of our first contact, -doubtless to each one of us, was repulsion, mistrust, -fear of one another. But it lasted for less than the -flash of a moment, less than the inhaling of one -breath. Our differences were there, but for the -time unimportant, whereas the all-embracing fact -was our similarity of fate. No need for social laws -to bind that company, no rules of the club were -necessary, the code of instinct, expediency and -honour were all one and spontaneous to us. “We -are all of one blood,” may be a great tie, but “We -are all of one fate” is, while it lasts, a better; the -bond of the outcast needs no seal.</p> - -<p>We arrived for the fifth time in a courtyard, -with a deal of jolting and din; it was the Bridewell -Police Station, and we all got out. The little -woman in the white dress and fur boa tumbled from -the van into the arms of a policeman—she assured -us that she loved him on finding herself thus closely -against him; he remained stalwart as a piece of -wood.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> - -<p>We Suffragettes were put into a cell by ourselves, -it was perfectly clean. We had not been -there very long before the door was opened with a -clang and another woman was thrust in. She was -reassuring to look at, smartly dressed with fashionably-shaped -brown furs draped round her neck. She -had come from Ireland that night and was terribly -cold. We gave her the blankets that had been -given to us; nothing, however, did much good. She -had come over with another woman, who on landing -had been taken as “wanted by the police.” This -woman had been arrested, too, as “her friend,” but -she said she was quite sure of getting off, as she had -only known the other woman quite a short time, -and had no idea that she was in any way “suspected.” -The concern of this woman to get free -was natural enough, but she seemed to care not at -all for the other one, for whom my heart welled over -with sympathy. I thought of her with a more -or less deceitful face, but I loved her because -she was “wanted by the police,” and this woman -who was with us I wanted to get off, of course, -but that was all; I could not feel any sympathy -towards her.</p> - -<p>We waited in this cell until it was dawning light. -It was not a place for sleep, and the cold was terrible. -As it was getting towards morning, we were taken -out of the cell and led off to wash our hands and faces -in another part of the prison. It was fearfully dark -in one part, with only a light occasionally here and -there, so that one could not see where one was going. -On a bench, some ten or twelve little boys were -sitting.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was the first time I thought of children as -prisoners. At Newcastle, it was true, I had seen -one little boy in the police court, but he was enjoying -himself over a cup of soup in the central room with -the police, and he was much too small to be convicted, -whatever his offences; possibly, if his -parents were hopeless, he would have been sent to -a reformatory school. That, of course, was bad -enough; one knew that for half of the money that -would have to be expended there was many a -woman in the country who would have cared for -him with motherly tenderness. But with these boys, -who looked about nine years to fifteen or sixteen -years old, it was another matter. The place where -they sat, though public, for it was a gangway, was -terrible, it was just where the passages seemed to -go underground; they were extremely dark, on one -side they abutted into a regular network of cells, with -small communicating alleys in between. There the -boys sat and gazed at the grown-up criminals who -appeared from time to time; they looked at us with -the greatest curiosity. It was horrible to see them -in a place so profoundly ill-suited to children.</p> - -<p>The Liverpool organiser, Miss Flatman, and Miss -Maude Joachim came to us with the daylight of -Saturday, January 15. It was a most unexpected -joy to see them—not alone, for that was not allowed, -but in one of the many passages near a window with -a policeman standing by. I was able to write a -little scrap of a letter to Mrs. Pethick Lawrence in -the name of “Jane Warton.” This made me very -happy. I believe we were offered breakfast, or -should have been able to get it had we asked for it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -but, in any case, those surroundings were so -wretched that we almost as soon went without, and -I was eager to begin the hunger-strike.</p> - -<p>As the time of the assembling of the court, 10 -o’clock, drew near we waited in different parts of -a large and rambling building. At last we were -conveyed, through what seemed an underground -court, to the foot of a staircase that led right up -into the prisoner’s dock.</p> - -<p>I was the first of the Suffragettes to be taken -up. Mr. Shepherd Little was the magistrate; he -seemed to be thoroughly out of temper. They took -only two or three minutes convicting me. When -the policeman had done his work of charging me -with urging the crowd to follow me to the Governor’s -house, with refusing to desist when called upon by the -police, and with throwing a “missile” (small stone -wrapped in paper), I put in, “I had three stones -upon me which I let fall in the Governor’s garden. -A man in the crowd ran past me just as I was letting -go the third—it fell on his shoulder; I apologised to -him.”</p> - -<p>On the strength of its being my first imprisonment, -I was sentenced to a fortnight, 3rd Division, -with option of a fine. Just when I had left the -court I was called back. The magistrate thought I -ought to have a longer sentence, thanks to my having -thrown stones, but the clerk thought not, and in the -little altercation he got the best of it.</p> - -<p>The women of last night were waiting on the stairs. -“How long have you got?” they all said to me. -“Ah! well, buck up,” they added on hearing -of fourteen days. Miss Elsie Howey, with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -admission of her former imprisonments, got six -weeks, and Mrs. Nugent was, to our great joy, -released. The policeman downstairs told me that -hard labour always accompanied the 3rd Division -sentences, unless stated to the contrary.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="XIII" title="CHAPTER XIII. WALTON GAOL, LIVERPOOL: MY THIRD IMPRISONMENT">CHAPTER <abbr title="13">XIII</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">WALTON GAOL, LIVERPOOL: MY THIRD -IMPRISONMENT</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Elsie Howey</span> and I waited together at the Bridewell -Police Station for the greater part of that day -(Saturday, January 15). Towards evening they -took us away in a partition van, alone, to Walton -Green Gaol, we arrived at about 7 o’clock at -night. The other prisoners must have journeyed -here when we did, though by a different van, for -we were all together again when we were to give our -names, vocation, etc., to the prison warders. We -stood up by a wall, all in a row, and waited our turn. -The prisoner with the white boa and the apparently -white gown, I was able to see closely and by a high -light. The boa was in imitation fur and extremely -dirty, the white dress was of some thin cotton, -nearly transparent; it was open on her chest and -she seemed to have hardly any clothes underneath. -I did not like to think what she must have suffered -this wintry day, in and out of the icy cold police -station cells. The effect of the drink was wearing -off, and she waved her head about as though she -had a very bad headache; all her cheerfulness had -gone. Poor little thing, I felt extremely sorry for -her, she had been given plenty of the best brandy -and she had done what was wanted of her; the -next day she found herself in prison. When her -imprisonment was over, in all probability, to go the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> -same road of drunkenness and prostitution would -seem the only one open to her.</p> - -<p>There were several other prisoners besides those -we had seen before. Some were so familiar with -the place that they reeled off their age, religion, -birthplace, calling, without waiting to be asked, -and then walked through into a large hall in which -were the waiting cubicles. Suddenly I felt awed, a -feeling of supremest pity almost took my breath -away. Passing in front of me into the larger hall -was a woman of great beauty, her features were -intensely refined, and in every part of her there -seemed to be some great determination, not in -respect of the prison she was in now, that was only -part of it, but with regard to her life of shame that -went before; the whole face and figure were -virtuous and good. The other woman who had -come over from Ireland was not there, but this was -the one, I felt quite sure, who was “wanted by the -police.” I had not heard her tell anything to the -officer, I had not seen her till that moment, and I -never saw her again, but I shall never forget her face -which will rest always on my memory, beautiful, -commanding, and of an absorbing sadness.</p> - -<p>It was our turn at last. We gave the required -details, and then Elsie Howey said that we should -refuse all food and all the prison rules. “We are -sorry if it will give trouble; we shall give as little as -possible; but our fast is against the Government, -and we shall fight them with our lives, not hurting -anyone else.” The wardress gave no answer, but -with a wave of her hand showed us towards -the cubicles. Before we went in there we were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -separated; we had to part, and I never saw Elsie -again till long after I came out. A wardress came -and showed me to a room with two other officers, the -place where I was to undress. I said that I did not -bow to the imprisonment and so would not undress -myself, whereupon a wardress began to pull my -things off, but I showed them this was not from -disagreeableness but only through the prison strike. -On taking out of my pocket a clean handkerchief I -noticed that it had the initials “C. L.” still upon it, -and when next there came a reel of cotton with the -name “Lytton” written quite distinctly round the -top, I felt overwhelmed with horror. Scarcely -knowing what I was about, I seized them both in -my hand and put them on the fire which burnt in a -stove near where I was standing. The next moment -I thought I had done wrong and that the attention -of the officers would inevitably be called to my -action, but they seemed not to have noticed and -never said anything, so I thanked my stars that I -was safe. The look of Jane Warton was still comic -in the extreme, the two wardresses laughed as they -undressed her. Her glasses were the subject of -excessive care and she was allowed to keep them -with her. I would most gladly have given them up, -for they hurt the bridge of my nose which was far -too wide for them, but it was good, of course, to -help the disguise for some while longer. I had my -bath, and was put into a 3rd Division dress of coarse, -brown serge, and my cap and apron were tied on. -I was put before a large basket of worn boots, not in -pairs, and told to pick out two for myself. I chose -the largest I saw, but they were not nearly big<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> -enough, and it was only after a tremendous effort -that I got my feet into them. I was then taken to -the large hall and put into a cubicle. These were -like cupboards, without ceiling, giving on to the -hall for light and air, so that they had not the -stuffiness of the cells. By this time I was dropping -with fatigue, the seat seemed there for me to sleep -on, and being alone was immensely restful. But -the sounds of the other prisoners made it too painful -for rest; one of them sobbed all the time, and soon -I saw we were here only to be inspected. The door -opened and a wardress put in a pair of sheets for -me to take to the cell. Then the Matron came, a -capable-looking woman, but severe. She spoke to -me of the hunger-strike, and of how very wrong it -was. I said that of course without an object it was -very wrong, but the Government had been petitioned -in every other way, we thought they would not like -hunger-strikes for ever, that now there were still -comparatively few, but later there would, if necessary, -be many more; that feeding by force was horrible, -besides it did not meet the difficulty of keeping -the women in prison. When one saw what the -wrongs of women were to redress, it seemed a little -thing that some women should die for the sake of the -others. She did not stay to prolong the discussion.</p> - -<p>The next to come was a young doctor accompanied -by a female officer. He called me out, and -the ordinary questions were put to me. I said that -I was free from any infectious disease, but that I -could not answer any other questions. He seemed -to have expected me to say this, and told the officer -to put it down in the book she carried with her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -I had decided, as on the occasion of my previous -hunger-strike, to refuse to answer medical questions, -but not to resist medical inspection. However, to -my great relief, it was not attempted. This was -the same at Newcastle, so seemed to me nothing -extraordinary.</p> - -<p>At last the longed-for moment had arrived, and I -was taken off to my cell. To my joy there was a -window which opened a little bit; at night it was lit -by a gas jet that was set in the depth of the wall -behind the door, the passage side, and covered in by -a thick glass. I was ever so tired—I laid down and -slept.</p> - -<p>The next day was Sunday (January 16), but they -did not ask us to go to chapel. For several days -I did not wear my cap and apron in my cell, but did -not in other ways continue my protest against the -clothes. The cold seemed to me intense, and I -wore the skirt of my dress fastened round my neck -for warmth. The Governor, accompanied by the -Matron, came to see me, but he was in a temper -about our having broken his windows, so I said -nothing. He was in a fury at the way I had fastened -my skirt. I answered that it was for warmth and -that I would gladly put on more clothes and warmer -ones if he gave them to me. Later on the Senior -Medical Officer came in. He was a short, fat, little -man, with a long waxed moustache. I should have -said he disliked being unkind; he liked to chaff over -things; but as I looked at him I thought I would -rather be forcibly fed by anyone in the world than -by him, the coarse doctors at Newcastle and the cross -little doctor I had seen the night before. I said I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -had not asked to see him, but he made no examination -and asked no questions.</p> - -<p>I lay in my bed most of the day, for they did not -disturb me, and I tried to keep warm, as I felt -the cold fearfully. They brought me all my meals -the same as usual, porridge in the morning at 7, -meat and potatoes mid-day at 12, porridge at -4.30. When they were hot I fed on the smell of -them, which seemed quite delicious; I said “I -don’t want any, thank you,” to each meal, as they -brought it in. I had made up my mind that this -time I would not drink any water, and would only -rinse out my mouth morning and evening without -swallowing any. I wrote on the walls of my cell -with my slate pencil and soap mixed with the -dirt of the floor for ink, “Votes for Women,” and -the saying from Thoreau’s <cite>Duty of Civil Disobedience</cite>—“Under -a Government which imprisons -any unjustly, the true place for a just man (or -woman) is also a prison”; on the wall opposite my -bed I wrote the text from <cite class="plain">Joshua</cite>, “Only be thou -strong and very courageous.” That night I dreamt -of fruits, melons, peaches and nectarines, and of -a moonlit balcony that was hung with sweetest -smelling flowers, honeysuckle and jessamine, apple-blossom -and sweet scented verbena; there was -only the sound of night birds throbbing over the -hills that ranged themselves below the balcony. -On it there slept my sister-in-law, and on the -balustrade, but making no noise, was a figure -awake and alert, which was my brother. My dream -was of a land which was seen by my father in his -poem of “<cite class="plain">King Poppy</cite>,” where the princess and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -shepherd boy are the types etherealised. I woke -suddenly. I could sleep a little in detached -moments, but this dream had made the prison cell -beautiful to me; it had a way out.</p> - -<p>The strain was great of having to put on my shoes, -which were too small, every time I was taken out of -my cell to empty slops or to see the Governor. The -Matron was shocked that I did not put the right heel -in at all and every day I was given another pair, but -they were all alike in being too small for my right foot.</p> - -<p>The next day, Monday (January 17), the wardress -took my bed and bedding away because I would not -make it up, but lay on it in the day-time. I told -her if she wished she must roll me off, but that I did -not intend voluntarily to give it up. She was -quite amiable, but rolled me towards the wall and -took the bed and bedding from underneath me. -There was a little table in my cell which was not -fastened to the wall. I turned it upside down and -was able to sit in it with my body resting against one -of the legs. It was very uncomfortable, but I felt -too ill to sit up in the chair, and the concrete floor -was much too cold without the bed. Every now -and then I got up and walked backwards and -forwards in the cell to get a little warmth into me. -The Chaplain came in for a moment. He was a -tall, good-looking man, of the burly, healthy sort. -It seemed to me, from his talk, that he would be -very well suited to be a cricket match or football -parson, if there were such a thing, but he was -totally unsuited to be the Chaplain of a prison, or -anyhow of a woman’s prison. He thought it -wise to speak to me as a “Suffragette.” <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>“Look -here, it’s no good your thinking that there’s anything -to be done with the women here—the men -sometimes are not such bad fellows, and there are -many who write to me after they’ve left here, but -the women, they’re all as bad as bad can be, there’s -absolutely no good in them.” I did not answer, but -I felt inclined to say “Then good-bye to you, since -you say you can do no good with the women here.”</p> - -<p>Presently an officer came and led me out. The -manner of nearly all the officers was severe; one or -two were friends but most of them treated me like -dirt. I was shown along the gangway of the ward, -which seemed to me very large, much larger than -the D X at Holloway, and went in various directions -like a star. I was shown into the Governor’s -room, which lay at the end of the gangway. It -was warm, there were hot pipes against which -I was made to stand with my back to the wall, -and for a moment, as I put my feet to rest on -the pipes, I could think of nothing else but the -delight of their heat. The Governor was very -cross. I had decided not to do the needlework -which constituted the hard labour, for this he gave -me three days on bread and water. He would not -let me speak to him at all and I was led out, but, -before I had got to my cell, I was called back into -his presence. “I hear you are refusing to take your -food, so it’s three days in a special cell.” I was -taken out and down a staircase till we reached the -ground floor. I think my cell was two stories -above, but I am not sure; then down again and into -a short passage that looked as if it was underground, -with a window at the top seemingly only just level<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -with the ground. The door of a cell was opened, I -was put inside and the door locked. It was larger -than the cell upstairs, and the jug, basin, etc., were -all made of black guttapercha, not of tin, placed on -the floor. This would have been bad for the ordinary -prisoner; as it was quite impossible to tell whether -the eating things were clean or not and, in any case, -it smelt fairly strong of guttapercha; but as the rule -for me was neither to eat nor drink, I was able to put -up with it well. The bed was wider than an ordinary -plank bed and nailed to the ground, so that I was -able to lie on it without being disturbed. Best of all -was the fact that it was nearer to the heating apparatus -and so seemed quite warm when I was led in. -I did not notice at first that the window did not -open, but when I had been there six or seven hours -it became wonderfully airless. I only left my cell -for minutes at a time, when I was allowed to draw -water, and the air of the corridor then seemed fresh -as mountain air by comparison. I had an idea that -Elsie Howey or some of the others would have been -put into a punishment cell too. I called, but in -vain, my voice had grown weak and my tongue and -throat felt thick as a carpet, probably from not -drinking anything. I tried signalling with raps -on the wall, “No surrender—no surrender,” Mrs. -Leigh’s favourite motto, but I was never sure of -corresponding raps, though sometimes I thought I -heard them. I could not sleep for more than about -an hour at a time, my legs drew up into a cramped -position whenever I went off and the choking -thickness in my mouth woke me.</p> - -<p>Tuesday, January 18, I was visited again by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> -Senior Medical Officer, who asked me how long I had -been without food. I said I had eaten a buttered -scone and a banana sent in by friends to the police -station on Friday at about midnight. He said, -“Oh, then, this is the fourth day; that is too long, -I shall have to feed you, I must feed you at once,” -but he went out and nothing happened till about -6 o’clock in the evening, when he returned with, -I think, five wardresses and the feeding apparatus. -He urged me to take food voluntarily. I told him -that was absolutely out of the question, that when -our legislators ceased to resist enfranchising women -then I should cease to resist taking food in prison. -He did not examine my heart nor feel my pulse; he -did not ask to do so, nor did I say anything which -could possibly induce him to think I would refuse to -be examined. I offered no resistance to being placed -in position, but lay down voluntarily on the plank -bed. Two of the wardresses took hold of my arms, -one held my head and one my feet. One wardress -helped to pour the food. The doctor leant on my -knees as he stooped over my chest to get at my -mouth. I shut my mouth and clenched my teeth. -I had looked forward to this moment with so much -anxiety lest my identity should be discovered -beforehand, that I felt positively glad when the -time had come. The sense of being overpowered -by more force than I could possibly resist was complete, -but I resisted nothing except with my mouth. -The doctor offered me the choice of a wooden or -steel gag; he explained elaborately, as he did on -most subsequent occasions, that the steel gag would -hurt and the wooden one not, and he urged me not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -to force him to use the steel gag. But I did not -speak nor open my mouth, so that after playing -about for a moment or two with the wooden one he -finally had recourse to the steel. He seemed annoyed -at my resistance and he broke into a temper as he -plied my teeth with the steel implement. He -found that on either side at the back I had false -teeth mounted on a bridge which did not take out. -The superintending wardress asked if I had any -false teeth, if so, that they must be taken out; I -made no answer and the process went on. He dug -his instrument down on to the sham tooth, it pressed -fearfully on the gum. He said if I resisted so much -with my teeth, he would have to feed me through the -nose. The pain of it was intense and at last I must -have given way for he got the gag between my teeth, -when he proceeded to turn it much more than necessary -until my jaws were fastened wide apart, far -more than they could go naturally. Then he put -down my throat a tube which seemed to me much -too wide and was something like four feet in length. -The irritation of the tube was excessive. I choked -the moment it touched my throat until it had got -down. Then the food was poured in quickly; it -made me sick a few seconds after it was down and -the action of the sickness made my body and legs -double up, but the wardresses instantly pressed -back my head and the doctor leant on my knees. -The horror of it was more than I can describe. I -was sick over the doctor and wardresses, and it -seemed a long time before they took the tube out. -As the doctor left he gave me a slap on the cheek, -not violently, but, as it were, to express his con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>temptuous -disapproval, and he seemed to take for -granted that my distress was assumed. At first it -seemed such an utterly contemptible thing to have -done that I could only laugh in my mind. Then -suddenly I saw Jane Warton lying before me, and -it seemed as if I were outside of her. She was the -most despised, ignorant and helpless prisoner that -I had seen. When she had served her time and was -out of the prison, no one would believe anything she -said, and the doctor when he had fed her by force -and tortured her body, struck her on the cheek to -show how he despised her! That was Jane Warton, -and I had come to help her.</p> - -<p>When the doctor had gone out of the cell, I -lay quite helpless. The wardresses were kind and -knelt round to comfort me, but there was nothing -to be done, I could not move, and remained there -in what, under different conditions, would have -been an intolerable mess. I had been sick over my -hair, which, though short, hung on either side of my -face, all over the wall near my bed, and my clothes -seemed saturated with it, but the wardresses told -me they could not get me a change that night as it -was too late, the office was shut. I lay quite -motionless, it seemed paradise to be without the -suffocating tube, without the liquid food going in -and out of my body and without the gag between -my teeth. Presently the wardresses all left me, -they had orders to go, which were carried out with -the usual promptness. Before long I heard the -sounds of the forced feeding in the next cell to mine. -It was almost more than I could bear, it was -Elsie Howey, I was sure. When the ghastly process -was over and all quiet, I tapped on the wall and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> -called out at the top of my voice, which wasn’t -much just then, “No surrender,” and there -came the answer past any doubt in Elsie’s voice, -“No surrender.” After this I fell back and lay as I -fell. It was not very long before the wardress came -and announced that I was to go back upstairs as, -because of the feeding, my time in the punishment -cell was over. I was taken into the same cell which -I had before; the long hours till morning were a -nightmare of agonised dread for a repetition of the -process.</p> - -<p>The next day, Wednesday, January 19, they -brought me clean clothes. When the wardresses -were away at breakfast I determined to break the -thick glass of my gas jet to show what I thought of -the forcible feeding, it seemed the last time that I -should have the strength required. I took one of my -shoes, which always lay at my side except when I -moved from my cell, let it get a good swing by holding -it at the back of my shoulder and then hurled it -against the glass with all the strength that I had. -The glass broke in pieces with a great smashing -sound. The two wardresses, who were in charge -of the whole ward while the others were away, came -into my cell together; I was already back in my -bed. They were young, new to the work, and -looked rather frightened. I told them I had done -it with a shoe, and why. “But that is enough,” I -said, “I am not going to do any more now.” This -reassured them and they both laughed. They took -away the shoes as “dangerous,” and brought me -slippers instead, and, to my intense relief, I never -saw them again. As the morning wore on, one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -after the other of the officials proclaimed that I had -done a shameful thing. On being changed to the -cell next door, one of the head wardresses—I never -made out exactly who she was—was in a great -temper. I had told her, as I did every one of the -officials, why I had broken my gas jet. “Broken -it, yes, I should just think you had, indeed. And all -that writing scribbled over your cell; can’t keep the -place decent.” “I’m so sorry,” I said; “I assure -you there was nothing indecent in what I wrote -on the wall.” “No, not indecent, but——” she -hesitated and, as the words would not come to her -assistance, the remark remained unfinished.</p> - -<p>I had not been long in the other cell before the -doctor and four or five wardresses appeared. He -was apparently angry because I had broken the jet -glass; he seized one of the tin vessels and began -waving it about. “I suppose you want to smash -me with one of these?” he exclaimed. I said to -him, so that all the wardresses with him could hear, -“Unless you consider it part of your duty, would -you please not strike me when you have finished -your odious job” (or I may have said “slap me,” -I do not remember). He did not answer, but, after -a little pause, he signed to me to lie down on the bed. -Again the choice of the wooden or steel implement, -again the force, which after a time I could not withstand, -in the same place as yesterday where the gum -was sore and aching. Then the feeling of the -suffocating tube thrust down and the gate of life -seemed shut. The tube was pressed down much -too far, it seemed to me, causing me at times great -pain in my side. The sickness was worse than the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -time before. As the tube was removed I was -unavoidably sick over the doctor. He flew away -from me and out of the cell, exclaiming angrily, -“If you do that again next time I shall feed you -twice.” I had removed my serge jacket and taken -several precautions for my bed, but I am afraid one -or two of the officers and the floor and wall were -drenched. I shut my eyes and lay back quite -helpless for a while. They presently brought in -fresh clothes, and a woman, another prisoner, came -and washed the floor. It seemed terrible that -another prisoner should do this, it was altogether a -revolting business. Two wardresses came and overlooked -her work, one of them said, in a voice of -displeased authority: “Look at her! Just look -at her! The <em>way</em> she’s doing it!” The woman -washed on and took no notice; her face was intensely -sad. I roused myself and said, “Well, at any rate, -she’s doing what I should be doing myself and I -am very grateful to her.” The wardresses looked -surprised at me, but they said nothing.</p> - -<p>The Governor came in for a moment to see me. -To my surprise his anger had cooled a little. He had -before spoken to me in a rage and, if I asked questions -which implied a complaint, had told me they -were not proper questions for me to ask, or that I -must not argue or raise discussions. After failing -to get a definite answer as to under whose authority -the forcible feeding was done, I said it surely could -not be right for him to allow such a thing in the -prison over which he had jurisdiction, unless he had -seen it and at least fully realised what it entailed. -With apparently some reluctance, he admitted that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -he had witnessed it. I asked, “And after that you -sanction and approve of such a thing being done to -prisoners who have committed <em>only nominal crimes -with no criminal object and in defence of a claim -which they have no recognised constitutional means -to enforce</em>?” The last italicised part of this -remark remained unheard, for the Governor interrupted -me with “That is not a fitting question for -you to ask.” Later, I was had up before him in his -room and was severely reprimanded for breaking the -glass of the gas-box and “inspection” glass, and -for defacing the walls of my cell, but I was dismissed -with a caution for glass breaking, and my punishment -was reserved for the Visiting Magistrates.</p> - -<p>When it was evening the light was lit and the -doctor and wardresses came again to feed me. I -asked if I could not sit up in a chair and the doctor -said “Yes.” I told him that I was a small eater, -that the capacity of my body was very limited and -if only he would give less quantities the result might -be better. I also begged that he would not press -the tube so far down into my body. He treated the -request with contempt, saying that anyhow my -stomach must be longer than his, since I was taller -than he was. This third time, though I was continually -sick, the doctor pressed the tube down -firmly into my body and continued to pour food -in. At last this produced a sort of shivering fit -and my teeth chattered when the gag was removed; -I suppose that every vestige of colour must have -left my face, for the doctor seemed surprised -and alarmed. He removed the tube and told the -wardresses to lay me on the floor-bed and lower<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -my head. He then came and lay over my chest -and seemed very sorry for what he had done. I -told him I should not faint, that I was not liable -to this or any form of collapse; I did not mention -the slight chronic debility of heart from which I -suffered. He called in the junior medical officer, -who happened to be passing at the time, to test my -heart. The junior doctor, who was in a jovial mood, -stooped down and listened to my heart through the -stethoscope for barely the space of a second—he -could not have heard two beats—and exclaimed, -“Oh, ripping, splendid heart! You can go on with -her”; with that he left the cell. But the senior -doctor seemed not to be reassured and he was kind -to me for the first time. He tried to feed me -with a spoon, but I was still able to clench my teeth -and no food got down. He then pleaded with me, -saying in a beseeching voice, “I do beg of you—I -appeal to you, not as a prison doctor but as a man—to -give over. You are a delicate woman, you are -not fit for this sort of thing.” I answered, “Is anybody -fit for it? And I beg of you—I appeal to you, -not as a prisoner but as a woman—to give over and -refuse to continue this inhuman treatment.” After -I had lain quiet for some time I managed to clean -the cell myself. I took out two pails to the sink, -but had only strength to carry them a few yards. -As I was journeying like this, getting on very slowly, -a wardress told me to take only one at a time; her -sympathy was moved to this extent, but no further. -I took one pail back to my cell, went on with the -other, and then came back for the first. When I -had finished this business of washing up—which I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> -was glad to do myself, even if it took half the day, -that it might not be given to another prisoner, and -also for the better cleaning of the hideous mess—I -fell on my bed and lay there till evening; they now -left me both bed and bedding, which was a tremendous -blessing.</p> - -<p>I lay facing the window, which was high up, and -very little light seemed to come from it. As the -sun went down I saw the shadow of the wooden -mouldings fall across the glass,—three crosses, and -they were the shape of the three familiar crosses at -the scene of Calvary, one in the centre and one on -either side. It looked different from any of the -pictures I had seen. The cross of Christ, the cross of -the repentant thief, and the cross of the sinner who -had not repented—that cross looked blacker than -the others, and behind it was an immense crowd. -The light from the other two crosses seemed to -shine on this one, and the Christ was crucified that -He might undo all the harm that was done. I saw -amongst the crowd the poor little doctor and the -Governor, and all that helped to torture these -women in prison, but they were nothing compared -to the men in the Cabinet who wielded their force -over them. There were the upholders of vice and the -men who support the thousand injustices to women, -some knowingly and some unconscious of the harm -and cruelty entailed. Then the room grew dark and -I fell asleep. When the doctor came again with his -apparatus he had bovril and brandy, and the tube -was left for only one second in my body. The next -morning, Thursday, January 20, I told him that the -brandy, which at first had the effect of warming me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -left me freezing cold after about two hours, and I -thought it was no use. As for the bovril, I had the -strongest objection to it of a vegetarian kind, and I -begged him not to give it to me again; he said he -would not. It was only when I was sick that I -knew what were the ingredients put down my body. -That morning it was again milk and plasmon that -was given me, and I was horribly sick. The doctor -said to me, “You are absolutely not fit for this kind -of thing. How could your Union send a woman like -you to do a thing of this kind? It is like sending -a wisp of wind to fight against a——” I did not -hear the end of the sentence, but I think he said -“a rock.” I was not able to answer, but the next -time he came I said to him, “Our Union does not -send anyone; service of this kind is absolutely -voluntary. In my case not one of the leaders even -knew of my action. I did it entirely off my own -bat and only told the local organisers.”</p> - -<p>From the third feeding, when the junior doctor -had felt my heart on Wednesday evening, the senior -doctor had been much kinder to me; in fact I -noticed a change in the way I was treated generally, -so much so that I concluded my identity had been -discovered or was at least suspected. I left off -wearing my hair in a parting, as it was almost -impossible to keep it away when I was sick. I -brushed it back and did it up in a towel every time -when I was fed. I left off wearing my glasses, -which were too uncomfortable to be tolerated now -that the necessity for them had worn off and they -were forcibly feeding me quite happily. I then -decided to take the utmost advantage of any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> -privilege, in order to bring the officials to act -reasonably, to check their recklessness as much as -possible, and to bring them to strain the regulations -so far as might be—not, as heretofore, in the direction -of brutality, but in the direction of hygiene, if not -of humanity. I pleaded afresh with the doctor to -try the experiment of giving me less quantity of -food, of putting less of the tube into the body, of -using less glycerine, which greatly irritated my -throat the moment the tube touched it, or to use oil -instead of glycerine. He listened to what I said, -and though except as to the glycerine—he wiped the -tube almost free of it, and called my attention to -the fact—there was not much difference in what he -did, yet his manner of doing it was different.</p> - -<p>When I was at the sink on Thursday morning, two -or three other prisoners were there, and they hastily -whispered to me, “It <em>is</em> your friend next to you, -No. 21.” The kindness which beamed from all -their faces did my heart good, but I could never -hear or see Elsie Howey next door, and eventually -I imagined that they must have mistaken me for her -when I threw back my hair after the third feeding.</p> - -<p>That day I thought I would clean my window, -through which I had seen such a wonderful vision -the evening before. Though the day was generally -spent in loneliness, I knew that I might be visited -at any hour, so I put off till about 3.30, when the -ward was generally quiet for a time. All the furniture -in the cell was movable, so I placed the table in -front of the window and the chair on the top, then -I climbed up. Through the small part of the window -that opened I looked down, and in a beautiful red<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -glow of the sinking sun I saw a sight that filled my -very soul with joy. In the gloaming light—it was -an exercise ground that I looked down upon—I saw -walking round, all alone, a woman in her prisoner’s -dress, and in her arms she carried another little -prisoner, a baby done up in a blanket. I was too -high up to hear her, but I could see distinctly that -she cooed and laughed to her little companion, and -perhaps she sang to it too. I never saw maternal -love more naturally displayed. The words of the -Chaplain came back to my mind—“The women, -they’re all as bad as bad can be, there’s absolutely -no good in them.” No good in them! and yet -amongst them there was this little woman who, at -least, loved her child and played with it as only a -mother-heart can!</p> - -<p>I got down and put the table and chair in their -place; I felt amazed, having seen a sight as beautiful -as the most beautiful picture in the world.</p> - -<p>The wardress who came most often to my cell was -kind to me. I said to her, “Oh! if you only knew -what a nightmare it is, the feeding. I have never -been any good at bearing pain, and each time it -comes I feel as if I simply couldn’t endure it.” -“Oh! well,” she answered, “it gets better, you’ll -see.” She said this in a comforting voice, but the -vistas of experience it gave of other prisoners who -had gone through the process made it anything but -a comfort to me. Most of them had been let out -half dead before the end of their time, and I had but -very little faith in the assurance that it would “get -better.” I asked her after the other Suffrage -prisoners, but she could tell me nothing of them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -This wardress came back to my cell rather late one -day and said to me hurriedly: “I am going away -to the other side of the prison. Will you write to -me when you get out?” I told her that I was -afraid my letters might get her into trouble, for I -felt sure it would not be allowed. She said she -was quite sure it would be all right, if I sent it -to her name, Miss ——. I said, “Very well, then, -I will.”</p> - -<p>I was filled with terror in the morning when the -gas-jet was put out and in the evening when it was -lighted again; within about half an hour of these -changes in the light came the doctor and wardresses, -the gag and all the fiendish consequences. I -walked up and down my cell in a fever of fear, -stopping now and then and looking up at the window, -from which all good things had seemed to come. I -said, “Oh, God, help me! Oh, God, help me!”</p> - -<p>After, I think, the sixth meal, I complained to the -doctor that the processes of digestion were absolutely -stagnant. I suggested to him that he should leave -out one meal, with a view to allowing the natural -forces of the body to readjust themselves, unhampered -by the kind of paralysing cramp and arresting of the -natural functions which resulted from fear. I also -suggested that instead of brandy—he had given me -another meal of bovril and brandy—fruit juice or -the water in which a pear or apple had been stewed -should be added to my food. He did not answer me, -but turned to the head assistant, whom he had -already assured me was a fully-trained nurse, and in -a half-insolent, half-contemptuous tone of voice, -said: <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>“Do you understand her? I don’t. Does -she mean that she is constipated? If so, you see -about it.” Very likely I had spoken unintelligibly. -I seldom had interviewed a doctor on my own -behalf, and am not versed in their technical language. -Whenever I spoke to this doctor it was either -immediately before or after the feeding, so that my -nerves were unstrung. Moreover, prisoners are -made to feel in the presence of nearly every prison -official that they are the scum of the earth, suspected -of deceit, prejudged and found wanting; -this has a paralysing effect on a prisoner’s powers of -expression. The chief assistant was the woman who -took me daily to the weighing machine. She was -kind and refined in her ways. I explained to her -what I wanted, I reminded her several times about -this; once I spoke again to the doctor of it, but I was -never given either a drug, or, so far as I know, the -fruit juice in my food.</p> - -<p>I asked the doctor if a smaller tube could not be -used for the feeding. He answered, “If I fed you -through the nose it would be with a smaller tube.” -I suggested that the smaller tube should be used -through the mouth, if he thought that process the -easiest. He said, “Well, that might be,” but the -tube was never changed to a smaller one. As to my -suggestion about omitting a meal, he also seemed to -think it plausible, but he promised nothing, and fed -me in the evening, saying that I had again lost -weight, so that he could not leave me without food. -Of course, this quite ignored my argument that until -I began to keep down the food I could not profit by -it or gain in weight.</p> - -<p>My limbs, hands and feet, were stiff with cold at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -all times. I was allowed flannel underclothes and an -extra blanket. In spite of continued reproof from -the wardresses I kept on my nightdress in the day -time, the only under-garment with long sleeves, and -I passed the night in all my day-clothes. At last I -was able to do this without comment from the -authorities. They also, as a great favour, allowed -me yet another blanket when I asked for it after some -days; I then had three. I was allowed to keep the -cape, usually only for out-door use, in my cell. But -it was like trying to warm a stone by clothing it. -Hot water was allowed in a pail once a day after the -evening feeding.</p> - -<p>Most of my friends had been fed by the doctor -standing at the back of the patient, whereas this -doctor adjusted the tube and fed me from the front, -a process which he carried out by sitting across my -knees. By this time I could not feel my legs and -arms, except just by the joints where I felt the pain -of the cold. At night I used to get up and walk -from time to time to prevent them from becoming -useless. But on Thursday night, my sixth in -prison, I fell really asleep and when I awoke I had -an unexpected feeling of ease and freedom from pain -or fear. I was unconscious of my nearly rigid -limbs, the beat of my heart was scarcely perceptible; -I supposed I had only a little while to live. The -prospect of release was inexpressibly welcome. -Presently I heard, as distinctly as if the wall of my -cell had a mouth and had spoken, the words which -Mrs. Leigh has made glorious in connection with our -cause: “No surrender.” They beat upon my -brain with a new meaning; not only to a repressive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -Government, not only to heedless laws and their -attendant punishments, but to the temptations of -our inabilities, no surrender. What was I about, to -abdicate my job in this ease-loving way? I rubbed -the painful life back into my feet, hands and limbs, -and forced myself to walk up and down my cell. -Pictures succeeded each other rapidly in my mind -of our fellow-prisoners in the “Black Maria,” of all -undefended women, of children’s blighted lives, of -down-trodden men and women, undeveloped or ill -of body or mind, whose fate women, through their -abject surrender of the woman’s part in the world’s -jurisdiction, must to a certain extent have laid at -their door. How misplaced, unrighteous and unwomanly -did non-resistance appear to me then. -With every throb of my returning pulses I seemed -to feel the rhythm of the world’s soul calling to us -women to uncramp our powers from the thraldom -of long disuse. My whole being responded and I -yearned to hand on the message as I myself had -in spirit received it—“Women, you are wanted. -Women, as women, because you are women, come -out in all your womanliness, and whether or not -victory is for your day, at least each one of you make -sure that the one course impossible to you is surrender -of your share in the struggle.” To you, -dear, faithful Suffragettes at heart, whatever the -handcuffs of circumstance which may limit your -powers of visible service, I pass on this message.</p> - -<p>I had been told that the Visiting Magistrates -were due to come to the prison on Friday (January -21), and that my offences would be judged by them. -On Wednesday morning I asked if I could be allowed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -to go to chapel, as on Thursday, probably, I should -move with difficulty and after that I would not -have a chance, as they would have me put in -irons for breaking the glass of my gas-jet—they had -put my friends in irons for less than that. The -wardress seemed to think this improbable, but she -gave her consent to my going to chapel. That -morning at 10 o’clock, I was taken downstairs and -put in a long row of waiting prisoners, we were -close enough to be touching each other, all perfectly -silent. They changed me about, putting me in a -different place each time, for no apparent reason. -We had waited about a quarter of an hour, when the -order came to move along, and we went through -several buildings to the chapel. The men, who -were much the most numerous, were seated below, -the women in a gallery above with a screen of wood -jutting out, so that nothing could be seen by one of -the other. I was shunted several times from my -place, and at last was put in a row by myself. I -looked in vain for any of my companions, they were -not there. The service was short and with several -hymns, in which, as in Holloway, the prisoners -joined heartily. Then the Chaplain got up into -the pulpit and preached a sermon with a great deal -of energy. He told of a wreck, evidently a quite -recent one, in which the lifeboat men had behaved -splendidly. Many were saved, and they gave -thanks to God and to the lifeboat men. Then he -went on to describe how we were born, helpless and -ignorant, in the world. As we thought of it, we -must give thanks to God. I listened with interest, -but nothing further was said. There was apparently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -no mother to thank, who through nine months had -tended the little one in her body, and through pain, -sometimes excruciating, brought it to birth. These -were entirely forgotten. Was it because the women -were “as bad as bad can be”?</p> - -<p>The next day, Thursday, January 20, I asked if I -could go out. The longing for more air than I -could get in the cell was intense, though the window -of this one opened just enough to let in some air. I -found that I could walk all right, although it seemed -as if my legs were painful things attached to my -body. The wardress told me I might go that -afternoon. As I was taken out of my cell that -morning to be weighed, I passed a little girl prisoner. -She was not more than a child. For aught I knew -she may have been taken straight from the life of -the streets the night before, but she had at that -moment the face of an angel, and she looked down -on me from the steps that she was cleaning above -with a smile which you can never see out of prison. -Her whole face seemed lit up with it and it touched -my very soul. I never saw her again, but I felt that -all my resentment and anger were gone. In a way -my physical courage was no greater than before, but -at least I should go on; I knew that I should last -out.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon the wardress came to let me go -out. I saw none of my companions on the way, and -I was put in an exercise yard quite alone. A pain in -my side had by this time grown acutely. I rested -against the wall, but nothing did it any good. The -sight of the grey, frosty sky and the feel of air were -a delight, but I could not bear the cold nor hold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -myself up, and after a little while I asked to come -in.</p> - -<p>The next day, Friday, January 21, as I was being -fed—the wardresses had given up holding me—the -pain of the tube in my body was more than I could -bear; I seized hold of it and pulled it up. The -wardresses reproved me for interfering, but they did -not put the tube in again; the doctor said nothing. -I was overwhelmed with the horror of the process, -and for the first time I was convulsed with sobs. -The doctor was kind to me. I said that I only cried -from having no strength to resist, but that I meant -to live out my sentence if I could.</p> - -<p>This was the day the Visiting Magistrates were -due. Later in the morning they came to my cell -with the Governor, who said, “Have you any complaint? -If only about the forcible feeding, you -will have the opportunity later on in my room; -don’t talk of that now.” I answered, “I have -complaints to make not only about being fed by -force, but as to the manner in which it was done.” -He said, “Your opportunity for that also will -come later on.” I think it was now, in the presence -of the Visiting Magistrates, that I said to the -Governor, “I shall be saying several things when -I am out of prison, and it seems to me more fair and -square to tell you of them now while I am still in -your hands, and you can refute them if you like.” -He allowed me to proceed, so I went on: <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>“About -the Governor, I shall say that while he was shocked -at the great wickedness of breaking glass as a protest -against forcible feeding, he sanctioned and approved -of the violence and brutality of the forcible feeding -itself.” He almost smiled, and replied hastily that -he had never said anything of the kind. I began to -ask which part of my statement he denied—his -condemnation of glass-breaking or approval of the -forced feeding, but he stopped me and would not -allow any further remarks on that point.</p> - -<p>Soon afterwards, when summoned before the -Magistrates in the Governor’s room, I was allowed, -in replying to the charge of glass-breaking, to which -I pleaded guilty, to make my protest against the -forcible feeding. I said I had been unable to -ascertain on whose authority it was done; if by -the order of an individual it seemed to me cruel and -abominable, but if by order of the departmental -authority, and in the name of law, I thought it -much worse; then it was sheer barbarism, for -under cover of such an order, kindly and well-meaning -subordinates were made to assist, for the -sake of duty, in the performance of many things -which they would never tolerate under different -circumstances. As a protest, I owned a feeble one, -against this barbarism I had actually been guilty of -defacing the walls of my cell with inscriptions and -of breaking a valuable piece of glass. The latter -part of my remarks, I think, were scarcely heard, -for the Magistrates had begun to interrupt me. My -breath gave out; I looked round at the Magistrates, -at the Governor, at the Matron. They had ordinary -faces, neither kind nor unkind; they were displeased -with what I said, they looked angry—that was all. -Then I asked if I might now lodge my complaint -against various points as to the manner in which I -had been forcibly fed. The Governor replied, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>“No, -not now. You will have another opportunity for -that later on.” After a lengthy and severe reprimand -for my prison offences and condemnatory -remarks on the subject of the behaviour of Suffragettes -outside, the Magistrates waived the matter of -the wall inscriptions as having been already dealt -with by the Governor, and with regard to the broken -glass they deferred judgment <i>sine die</i>.</p> - -<p>When back in my cell, the Governor presently -visited me. I said I had understood I was to have an -opportunity of seeing the Magistrates again to lodge -my further complaint against the manner of feeding. -The Governor said, “You will not see the Magistrates -again; but now is your time, I have come on purpose -to hear your complaints.” I had the impression, -probably not uncommon to all prisoners, that the -higher the authority the less likelihood would there -be of an appeal to them taking effect. Certainly -there had been nothing in the manner and remarks -of the Visiting Magistrates to alter this impression. -I was therefore well pleased to make my complaint -to the Governor alone. It is no part of the prison -protest to plead for merciful or even rational treatment, -and though I had deliberately decided upon -a different course, I was haunted by the fear of -breaking our policy and proving disloyal to my -comrades then in prison. The Matron was present, -as always when the Governor visits prisoners in their -cells, and he allowed me to remain on my bed. For -the first time he listened to all I had to say without -attempting to interrupt me, or to curtail or change -the drift of my remarks. I reported to him having -been forcibly fed without my heart having been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -tested or the doctor even feeling my pulse. I said I -mentioned this in no spirit of personal complaint, -for, though suffering from slight chronic heart -disease, my heart happened to have great resisting -and recuperative power; but I didn’t suppose it was -possible to diagnose this fact merely from looking -at me, and that on general medical grounds, as a -matter of principle, I thought the heart ought most -carefully to be tested before any prisoner who had -been on hunger-strike was forcibly fed, since both -these processes were theoretically believed to tax -the heart.</p> - -<p>I said, “There is another thing which I think I -had better mention. After the first time of feeding -me, the doctor seemed very irritated and, before -leaving, he slapped me on the cheek; he did not -hurt me, but seemed to wish to show his contempt; -about this, too, I do not wish to complain as of an -insult to me personally. He no doubt was irritated -by his repulsive job, but this is hardly the right -mood for an official, and what he could do to one -woman he might possibly do to another. I think -such things should not be done. I asked him the -next morning, unless he thought it part of his duty, -not to do such a thing again, and he never has.” -I made further complaints about too much food at -a time being poured in through the tube, and about -the one occasion when the tube was left in for some -considerable time and the feeding repeated again -and again, in spite of my continuous vomiting. I -did not, however, complain of these things in any -detail to the Governor, since they seemed to be -matters chiefly suitable for the medical officer. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -think I added, as I certainly did on one occasion to -the doctor himself, what a mercy it was that at -least the doctor was skilled in adjusting the tube -into the throat. The Governor made no reply but -listened to all I said.</p> - -<p>It was on the afternoon of this day, Friday, that -the door of my cell was suddenly thrown open, and -the man who stood outside was announced to me -as the Government inspector. I asked, had he -come from London? “Yes.” He inquired in a -hurried way, as if he had a train to catch, had I any -complaint? “Yes,” I replied, “first of all about -being fed by force.” He said, in a hurried and -insolent manner, all in one breath, so that it was -scarcely intelligible, “Are you refusing to take -your food—If so, the remedy is in your hands, you -have no reason to complain—Any further complaints?” -I hesitated for a moment, then, as it -seemed to me my complaints against the doctor -would certainly in this man’s estimation come -under the head of grievances easily remediable by -the surrender of the hunger-strike, I answered, “No, -I suppose not,” upon which he abruptly left me.</p> - -<p>On this day, Friday, the Governor before he left -me had suggested that under certain conditions he -would allow me to write a letter. “For instance,” -he said, “if you had a mother you were anxious -about, perhaps I could give you leave to write to -her.” I had so arranged matters before being -arrested that I knew my people, if they had traced -me, would conclude that by this time my hunger-strike -had been superseded by forcible feeding; -that those most dear to me had implicit faith in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> -reasonableness of all officials, that if at any moment -they chose to take advantages of the privileges -available to them, they could hear all about me; and, -finally, that if they were anxious to the point of -disregard for those of my principles which they did -not share, they could pay my fine; but hastily on -these reflections there followed the panic fear that -it was my mother who was ill, and the Governor was -breaking the news to me. He, however, reassured -me on this point and he left me. The permission -reeled in my brain. My mother would by this time -certainly suspect something. If I could write to -her and yet not let her know where I was! The -prison paper would alone make this impossible. I -thought about it all night. The next day, Saturday, -January 22, I determined to eat my breakfast so -that I might be in a fit state to write, otherwise my -hands trembled and I could not steady my mind to a -letter. I told the wardress very early that morning -that I would eat my breakfast, and that I should -like someone to witness it. The little woman, -whom the doctor had told me was a nurse, brought -me in a cup of milk and a piece of white bread and -butter. It was the most delicious food I have ever -tasted; the “nurse” was very kind to me and -stayed till I had finished. Then I wrote my letter; -it was only on the slate, of course; I must ask the -Governor’s leave before I was allowed writing-paper. -I asked to see the Governor, by letter written on -another slate. I said that, if it were the same to -him, might I go to his room to see him, as there I -could stand near the hot pipes, which was a great -luxury. He came to my cell, and I told him I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> -would gladly avail myself of the privilege to -write to my mother, provided he would grant the -same privilege to my fellow Suffrage prisoners. I -assumed, too, that he had done the same in the case -of Elsie Howey as in mine, omitted to punish her -for glass-breaking—I believed, from the sound, that -someone besides myself had broken glass—and I -reminded him of a remark he had made as to the law -being no respecter of persons. By this time I had -an almost certain conviction that he knew who I was. -But he would not give me any assurance as to -like favours being granted to other prisoners, so I -refused to avail myself of the letter-writing privilege. -In the afternoon, however, I had decided that I -could convey news to my mother without revealing -my identity to the officials, supposing that they were -not yet fully aware of the truth, and that I had -better use every available privilege offered, since I -was in the dark as to the grounds on which it was -made. I determined to write to the nurse of my -sister’s children, who lived in Bloomsbury Square, -telling her to forward my letter at once to my mother. -I asked to see the Governor again, but he had left. -I was taken before the Matron, who told me the -privilege would anyhow be conditional, dependent -upon to whom my letter was addressed and the -urgency of the motive for writing it. I said there -was no extreme urgency; she answered I must -await the Governor’s return on Monday morning.</p> - -<p>I wrote in my letter on the slate that the forcible -feeding was “only pain,” and that my mother would -think that good for me. I made no other complaint, -but said the short sentence would soon let me be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> -with her. My only object was to conceal all that I -endured. In the evening I was again fed by force.</p> - -<p>On Sunday morning, January 23, the cold was -intense. I asked for some hearthstone to polish -my tins—they had taken everything of the kind -away and the tins were dull and spotted. I hoped -to keep some sense of life in my hands and arms by -trying to scrub with them. But it did not come. -Presently the door opened and the Governor -appeared; I could not think why he came so early. -Then I saw the doctor behind him, and the thought -of the forcible feeding blocked my mind. I supposed -the Governor had come to see it. He was nervous -about startling me, I suppose, for he told me the great -news twice before I understood. He told me of my -release and that my youngest sister, Emily Lutyens, -had come to fetch me away. I felt stunned with -the quite unexpected shock of joy, it was too good -to be true. After ascertaining that my fine had not -been paid, but that I had been released on medical -grounds, and that it had nothing to do with my -mother’s health, the chief aim for which I tried to -pull myself together was to obtain what news I -could of my fellow-prisoners. The Governor and -doctor, however, left me without giving me any -information. Again I was brought white bread and -butter and milk for my breakfast, and the “nurse” -stayed with me while I ate it. They brought me my -clothes, but the more I realised the news the slower -my movements became; all strength seemed to have -ebbed from my body. The wardresses knew nothing -of the other Suffragette prisoners, whether they were -released or not. When dressed I was taken out far<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -away to what was called “the Governor’s room,” but -it was not the same one that I had seen before. The -doctor came and talked to me, then after a little while -my sister came. We greeted each other, of course, by -a tremendously warm embrace. The doctor looked -away like a witness in a melodrama. I sat there as -in a dream talking to him and to the Governor, who -presently came in. The doctor said, “I have been -kind to you?” “Latterly you were,” I answered, -“if you had not fed me. At first you were angry -and not kind.” I told the Governor that the one -thing I wanted to know about was the other Suffragette -prisoners, were they fed—were they released? -He answered that they were not released, that one of -them was in hospital, that they were all quite well. -I said that was a curious answer; if they were all -quite well, why was one in hospital? He said that -he could tell me nothing more. The doctor said -they were none of them as bad as I was over the -feeding. That was all that I could get from them -about the other prisoners. I did not go over again -with them the points about which I had protested, -while still a prisoner, as to my own treatment. The -Governor and doctor were courteous to me after my -release and to my sister, and the Governor’s wife -had been very kind to her on her arrival in the -early morning.</p> - -<p>Why we waited I do not know, but in about half -an hour we drove away in a four-wheeler. The -Chaplain was just coming in to the prison as we -drove out through the gates; he bowed to me. I -went to the station first and got my trunk, or rather -my sister got it for me, then we went to the hotel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> -We telephoned to Dr. Kerr that I was released and -going with my sister to London. She sent her -young daughter and man-servant to see us at the -hotel, and we left word with them for Miss Flatman, -who was not on the telephone and whose Sunday -address we did not know.</p> - -<p>I had a long bath, which was a tremendous -luxury, although my legs were so thin I could not -sit down without pain. My dear sister stayed with -me the whole time; my voice shook and I could -not speak properly. We had a meal before we -left.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="XIV" title="CHAPTER XIV. THE HOME OFFICE">CHAPTER <abbr title="14">XIV</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">THE HOME OFFICE</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> got into the train for London and I had a long -sleep. During the last part of the journey my sister, -Emily Lutyens, told how she had heard of me in -Walton Gaol. She had a telephone message forwarded -to her on Saturday night, January 15, from -the Press Association. It was addressed to my -eldest brother, who was abroad, saying it was -rumoured that I was imprisoned in Liverpool—was -it true? She rang up our friend, Mr. Arthur -Chapman, who after an infinity of trouble got into -communication with Mr. Thompson, one of the -Prison Commissioners from the Home Office. In -answering the telephone, he welcomed Mr. Chapman -gleefully, as having news they had wanted much. -“There is a prisoner at Walton Gaol, Liverpool,” -he said, “whom they have for some days suspected -of being other than her declaration. We have -wanted to release her, but have not been able to find -out who her people were.” This was a most extraordinary -thing for a Home Office official to say. -Why had they not released me to the W.S.P.U. -organiser in Liverpool, or asked me with whom they -should communicate? And why were they more -anxious to set me free than the other Suffragettes? -They had signed an order for my release.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> -The reason given was loss of weight; they did not -mention my heart, since they knew nothing about -it! Mr. Thompson recommended that my sister -should telephone to the doctor at Walton and he -would arrange with the Governor to release me. -With this news Mr. Chapman went to my sister -Emily, who was dining out. They rang up Dr. Price, -of Walton, and after communicating with him my -sister felt almost sure the prisoner was myself. -Without a moment’s hesitation, and dressed just as -she was, she caught the midnight train to Liverpool, -where she arrived at about six in the morning. She -reached the doctor’s house at about seven and still -was uncertain whether she would find me in the -prison. Dr. Price, after some talk, took her to the -Governor’s house. The Governor’s wife was very -kind at that early hour and gave her breakfast. -She said she thought it was inhuman to dress the -prisoners in such frightfully ugly clothes, she felt -only horror when she looked at them; she would -have different clothing for them if she had anything -to do with it.</p> - -<p>Dr. Price told my sister that he had written the -report of me to the Home Office. “I said she was -spare, very spare, and that she had a nose—I did -not say aquiline, but of a somewhat Wellingtonian -bend.” We roared with laughter at this description -of me.</p> - -<p>The following is my sister’s statement of a conversation -which she had with the doctor on arriving at -Walton: “After a preliminary conversation with -Dr. Price in regard to what had taken place in connection -with our telephonic communication with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -him the previous night, I asked him whether he -could tell me anything with regard to my sister’s -behaviour in gaol and the treatment she had been -obliged to undergo. In reply, he stated that she -had fasted for four days, that he had begged her to -take her food, and explained that if she refused he -would be obliged to forcibly feed her. As she had -persisted in her refusal, he had been obliged to feed -her through the mouth up to the date of her release, -with the exception of one meal, which she took of -her own accord on Saturday morning. He further -stated that, unlike some other Suffragettes, she had -shown no violence beyond refusing to take her food, -but that, in all his experience, he had never seen -such a bad case of forcible feeding. I asked him -what he meant by a ‘bad case,’ and he said ‘<em>She -was practically asphyxiated every time.</em>’ I then told -him that the medical officers at Holloway and Newcastle -reported to us that my sister was suffering -from serious valvular disease of the heart, and I -asked him if his examination had led him to the -same conclusion. He replied ‘Certainly not. My -subordinate’ (or some such word), ‘who is a very -clever doctor, thoroughly examined her heart and -found no trace of disease whatever,’ and I need -hardly say that this was a great relief to my mind, -as the reports of the other prison doctors had caused -us so much anxiety. He further stated that, in -spite of the forcible feeding, my sister had lost -weight at the rate of 2 <abbr title="pounds">lbs.</abbr> a day, and that, consequently, -he had been obliged to advise her being -released.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Dr. Price several times repeated how much -my sister had suffered from the treatment, and, -after I had told him about her heart, said that -it might possibly have been due to her heart -condition, though he had not been able to detect -it.”</p> - -<p>My sister took me to their house in Bloomsbury -Square, which we reached at about 8.30 p.m. There -was our friend, Mr. Chapman, to whom I gave a -brief account of my imprisonment. He went off -with it the next day to the Home Office Prison -Department, and returned with the news that the -officials would be grateful to me if I would make a -statement on paper, whereupon they would have -it investigated. There were reasons why they -would be very glad to have an open inquiry at -Walton Gaol.</p> - -<p>All that night I woke off and on with cold, and -also with terror at the forcible feeding. My sister -was most kind to me; she reheated my hot-bottles -and at last came and slept with me. I stayed in bed -the next morning (Monday, January 24). In the -afternoon I saw some of my friends—Mrs. Pethick -Lawrence and Christabel Pankhurst. Some days -after, when she returned to London, I saw -Mrs. Pankhurst. They were all of them content -with what I had done and the way I had done -it. This was a most tremendous joy and relief -to me.</p> - -<p>I managed to write a letter to the <cite>Times</cite> and an -article for <cite>Votes for Women</cite>. I could only do everything -so slowly that I had not finished these until -eight o’clock the next morning, after writing all -night. I stayed in bed the whole of that day,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> -Tuesday. On Wednesday and Thursday (26th and -27th) I stayed in bed in the morning, but led a -more or less normal life after. These days I could -hardly sit in a chair, because my emaciated -condition rendered it very painful; I ate my -meals, very often, kneeling down at the table on -a cushion.</p> - -<p>On Tuesday, January 25, I wrote to Mr. Gladstone, -the Home Secretary, to explain that it was not as -the newspapers said, to play a practical joke upon -him, that I had gone to prison in disguise. It was -because of the totally different category of treatment -meted out to one set of people from another, and -the object of my disguise was to expose this for -the sake of bringing such a state of things to -an end.</p> - -<p>On Monday, January 31, I woke with a blistered -heel. I spoke at the meeting at the Queen’s Hall, -and it was heart-filling to meet all my friends again; -the whole audience seemed to understand. I stood -for an hour on one foot. On coming home I had to -wait about to get a statement finished and typewritten. -I had written very carefully for the -Home Office of what happened to me in prison. -After that I went to bed and stopped there for six -weeks. The next day, Tuesday, February 1, the -blister on my heel was much worse and my sister -wished to send for a doctor. I had always been -ill in the country and did not know of one. -My sister called in Dr. Marion Vaughan, who -from that moment was my doctor, and after she -had been to see me I had a nurse. This is her -report:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="title3">“<span class="smcap">Report of Physical Condition of Lady -Constance Lytton.</span></p> - -<p class="address_date"> -<span class="in_a_bit4">“Tuesday, February 1, 1910.</span><br /> -<span class="in_a_bit2">“21, <span class="smcap">Thurloe Square</span>, S.W.</span><br /> -“February 4, 1910. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I was called in to see Lady Constance Lytton, -staying at 29, Bloomsbury Square, W.C., on account -of pain, swelling and reddening of right leg and heel; -with enlarged tender glands behind the knee, -associated with an inflamed blister on the heel.<a name="Anchor_12" id="Anchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 12.">[12]</a> -There was cellulitis of the right leg, extending to -the knee. Both legs were considerably swollen -(evidently due to failing heart), though the patient -and her sister, Lady Emily Lutyens, said this was -much less marked than on the previous day. The -patient’s look of extreme illness, malnutrition, and -bad colour led me to examine her heart carefully. -This I found to be in a serious condition, considerably -larger than normal, with its apex beat in 6th -intercostal space, 1½ inches beyond the nipple line; -extremely irregular in force and frequency, a marked -difference between heart and pulse rate, due to -feeble transmission to terminal vessels. The heart -sounds were ‘trembling’ in character. The pulse -then (February 1, 1910, at 10.30 a.m.) and now is -slow, small in volume and irregular; its rate -varying from 48 to 52 per minute. (There is -perfectly clear evidence of mitral disease of the -heart, with præsystolic murmur.) The most superficial -examination of the heart cannot fail to reveal -the grave risk to health and life to which the patient -was exposed during the forcible methods of feeding -recently adopted in Walton Gaol.”</p> - -<p class="report">Report by <span class="smcap">Dr. Marion Hunter</span> (<span class="smcap">Mrs. -Vaughan</span>), Plague Medical Officer to -Government of India, 1897–1898; -Plague Medical Officer to British -Government in Egypt, 1899; Assistant -Medical Officer to London County -Council (Education) 4½ years.</p></blockquote> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h3 title="">Footnote:</h3> - -<ul> -<li><a name="Footnote_12" id="Footnote_12"></a><a href="#Anchor_12" class="fnlabel">[12]</a> The shoes in Walton Gaol were exceptionally stiff, even, -as it seemed to me, for prison footwear. They hurt my -feet badly and made the heel of my right foot very sore. -As I have told, after I broke my gas-jet, the shoes were -changed to comfortable slippers, but I think this accounted -for the blister after my release, when my foot came to life -again. -</li> -</ul> -</div> - -<p>On Monday, January 31, Mr. Arthur Chapman -wrote to Mr. Gladstone, enclosing the statement -which I had made, and begging for an interview, in -which he could explain matters to the full; this -was refused. On February 4 Mr. Chapman wrote -again, appealing for a full and impartial investigation. -The following letter was received:—</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="noindent"> -“Please quote 187, 986/10,<br /> -<span class="out_a_bit2">“and address to the Under-Secretary of State,</span><br /> -<span class="out_a_bit6">“Home Office, London, S.W.</span> -</p> -<p class="address_date"> -“<span class="in_a_bit4"><span class="smcap">Home Office, Whitehall</span>,</span><br /> -“9th February, 1910. -</p> - -<p>“Sir,—With reference to your letter of the -31st ultimo, forwarding statement made by Lady -Constance Lytton, as to her treatment in H.M. -Prison, Liverpool, and your further letter of the -4th inst., I am directed by the Secretary of State -to say that he has caused careful and detailed -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>inquiry to be made by the Prison Commissioners -into the truth of the charges brought by Lady -Constance Lytton against the officers of the prison, -and as the result of that inquiry he is satisfied that -those charges are without foundation and that there -is no justification for Lady Constance Lytton’s -account of her experience while she was in the prison.</p> - -<p>“The Secretary of State cannot discuss her statements -in detail. A single instance must suffice. -Lady Constance, with a view to showing that her -treatment as ‘Jane Warton’ differed from her -treatment when her identity was known, asserts -that, whereas she was thoroughly examined at -Holloway and Newcastle Prisons and was found to -be suffering from heart disease, no attempt was -made to examine her at Liverpool before she was -forcibly fed. On reception at Liverpool Prison on -the 15th ultimo, Lady Constance refused to allow -herself to be examined and told the deputy medical -officer, who was on duty, that she was quite well. -He asked her a second time to allow him to examine -her and she again refused. His evidence on this -point is corroborated by that of the wardress who -was present, and the matter is placed beyond doubt -by the entry ‘refused examination’ which was made -at the time in the medical reception register at -the prison. Before artificially feeding her for the -first time, the senior medical officer applied his ear -to the chest wall and satisfied himself that the -condition of her heart was such that the operation -of artificial feeding could, in the absence of active -resistance by the patient, be performed without any -immediate risk of injury to her health. In this -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>connection you will observe that the diagnosis -of the medical officers at Holloway and Newcastle, -arrived at after thorough examination, is fully -confirmed by the report of Lady Constance Lytton’s -own medical attendant, which you have been good -enough to forward. ‘Jane Warton’s’ foolish conduct -in refusing to allow herself to be examined and -the deception which deprived the medical officers -of all knowledge of the medical history of her case, -must be held responsible for the fact that the true -condition of her heart remained undiscovered while -she was in Liverpool Prison. When it was found -that the injury to her health caused by her persistent -refusal to take food could not be prevented -by artificial feeding, her discharge was recommended -by the medical officer and was authorised -by the Secretary of State, and this was done before -anyone at the Home Office or at the prison was -aware of her identity. The statement that the -medical officer was guilty of slapping his patient’s -face is utterly devoid of truth, and can only be the -outcome of the imagination.</p> - -<p>“In these circumstances the Secretary of State -does not consider that any further inquiry as to the -truth of the statements made and published by -Lady Constance Lytton is called for, and he must -therefore decline to accede to your request for -further investigation.</p> - -<p class="right_sig"> -<span class="in_a_bit8">“I am, sir,</span><br /> -<span class="in_a_bit4">“Your obedient servant,</span><br /> -“(Signed) <span class="smcap">Edward Troup</span>.”</p> - -<p class="noindent">“<span class="smcap">Arthur W. Chapman, <abbr title="Esquire">Esq.</abbr></span>,<br /> -<span class="out_a_bit3">“33, Whitehall Court, S.W.”</span> -</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></p> - -<p>In this letter it seems to be thought that it does -not matter mis-stating things, provided the mis-statement -is a small one, then the small things can -be added together. Even supposing everything to -be true in this letter, no mention is made of calling -in the other doctor five days before I was released, -on purpose to test my heart. He did so with a -stethoscope on the heart itself, though anything but -carefully, and pronounced it quite sound.</p> - -<p>Eighteen days after my release I called in Dr. -Anders Ryman, of 4, Wetherby Place, to give me -Swedish treatment. He found that my heart had -regained its normal size, but he thought my condition -too critical for any but the very mildest form of -treatment; insisted on my being kept entirely in -bed, absolutely quiet, and forbade all visitors or -letters being brought to me. He would not let me -be moved to the country for another four weeks, -and, even after that, urged me to exert myself as -little as possible and only walk upstairs backwards. -He seemed to be alarmed at the great fluctuations -between the heart beat when still and when I moved -or spoke.</p> - -<p>During my imprisonment, the side of the jaw on -which the gag was used became painful and the -whole mouth very sensitive, but five or six days -after release all swelling had subsided and pain was -only occasional and mild. About ten days after my -release, the crown of my artificial tooth broke away -entirely. Owing to this and to sensitiveness in the -upper tooth affected, I did not use that side of my -mouth in eating, but I was unable to leave my bed -to visit the dentist. Some time after I was up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> -doctors urged upon me that I was still unfit to -undergo dental treatment. I went in March, but -my dentist thought I could not undergo any but a -temporary treatment of the harmfully exposed -surfaces. It was not till April that full treatment -was finally given; that is why the date of the -report made by the dentist is so long after the -release from prison:—</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="address_date"> -<span class="in_a_bit4">“10, <span class="smcap">Park Crescent</span>,</span><br /> -<span class="in_a_bit2">“Portland Place, W.,</span><br /> -“April 14, 1910. -</p> - -<p class="title3"><span class="smcap">“Lady Constance Lytton.</span></p> - -<p>“In order to restore the masticatory efficiency of -the left side of the lower jaw, a bridge consisting -of one gold crown and two porcelain crowns was -constructed. This was attached in May, 1896, and -has continued in satisfactory condition until the -application of a gag, recently employed in forcible -feeding, cracked and broke away the face of the -crown of the bicuspid on the lower jaw, also breaking -the enamel of the upper natural tooth.</p> - -<p>“Sufficient force having been employed to -occasion this damage, it was feared that the root of -the tooth which forms the front anchorage of the -bridge was split, but this is not the case, and the -inflammatory symptoms have now subsided.</p> - -<p class="big_sig"> -“<span class="smcap">H. Uren Olver.</span>”<br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>On February 3 came the news that Selina Martin -and Elsie Howey were released from Walton Gaol. -I was by this time in bed and received no news and -no letters; when the information was brought to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>me, I felt quite overwhelmed with joy. This -release was more than three weeks before their -sentence had expired.</p> - -<p>By the time the last letter had been received from -the Home Office, February 9, my eldest brother had -returned from abroad, and he took up the case. All -his attempts to have a public inquiry failed. Mr. -Gladstone was relieved of the Home Office preparatory -to taking up the work of High Commissioner -in South Africa, and my brother pleaded in -vain with everyone that had to do with the matter. -In the meantime, the W.S.P.U. was asked not to -take up my case in any way for fear that the authorities -would thereupon refuse to listen, and a letter -from Sir Edward Troup to the <cite>Times</cite>, in which he -said there was no foundation for the declarations -against the officials, remained unanswered.</p> - -<p>On March 30, my brother had the following letter -in the <cite>Times</cite>:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—On February 10 a letter was sent to the -Press by Sir Edward Troup, relative to a statement -made by my sister, Lady Constance Lytton, regarding -her treatment in Liverpool Prison, in which he -declared on behalf of the Home Secretary that there -was no foundation for any of the charges which she -had made. I am anxious to explain why this -official imputation of untruthfulness has hitherto -remained unanswered.</p> - -<p>“Lady Constance was seriously ill at the time as -the result of her prison experiences, and unable to -defend herself. I therefore undertook the task of -vindicating her veracity. Before making any public<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -statement on her behalf I was anxious to find out -what steps had been taken by the Home Office to -investigate the matters referred to in her statement, -and I hoped by a friendly intervention to secure a -full and impartial inquiry into all the circumstances -of her treatment by the prison officials.</p> - -<p>“I have had several communications with the -Home Office on the subject, and owing to the retirement -of Mr. Gladstone and the appointment of a -new Home Secretary, they have necessarily been -protracted over a considerable period. My attitude -throughout has been entirely conciliatory, and the -only claim which I have made was that in the -interests of justice, charges of this nature should be -submitted to a full and impartial inquiry which -would, of course, involve a separate examination of -both the parties concerned. This claim has been -refused by the Home Office on the grounds that the -prison officials have been closely interrogated, and -that as they deny entirely every one of the charges -made, ‘no useful purpose would be served’ by -granting my request.</p> - -<p>“In the absence of such an inquiry as I asked for, -the matter must be left to the opinion of unbiassed -minds. I desire, however, to say that nothing -which I have been able to learn has in any way -shaken my belief in the substantial accuracy of -my sister’s account. The idea that her charges can -be disposed of by the bare denial of the persons -against whom they are made, is not likely to commend -itself to anyone outside the Home Office, -and no amount of denial can get over the following -facts:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p> - -<p>“1. Lady Constance Lytton, when imprisoned -in Newcastle, after refusing to answer the -medical questions put to her and adopting the -hunger-strike, received a careful and thorough -medical examination, which disclosed symptoms -of ‘serious heart disease,’ and on these grounds -she was released as unfit to submit to forcible -feeding.</p> - -<p>“2. Three months later ‘Jane Warton,’ when -imprisoned at Liverpool, also refused to answer -medical questions or to take prison food. On -this occasion she was entered in the prison books -as having refused medical examination, and was -forcibly fed eight times. Such medical examination -as took place during the forcible feeding -failed, according to the medical officer’s report, -to disclose any symptoms of heart disease, and -she was eventually released on the grounds of loss -of weight and general physical weakness.</p> - -<p>“These facts are incontrovertible, and though the -Home Office is quite satisfied that in both cases the -prison officials performed their duty in the most -exemplary fashion, your readers will form their own -opinions of the justice of a Government Department -which brings accusations of untruthfulness against -an individual whilst refusing the only means by -which the truth can be established.</p> - -<p class="big_sig"> -<span class="in_a_bit4">“I am, your obedient servant,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Lytton.</span>”<br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>My brother did not give up his efforts till in April -Mr. Winston Churchill, the new Home Secretary, -who was well known to him, came to stay at Kneb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span>worth, -his country place. Mr. Churchill read through -the whole case, until he came to the report of the -letter to my mother written on the slate. “’Twould -be hopeless,” he said, “to bring forward any complaint -with this letter in the background.” I don’t -know, of course, what they had made of it, as it had -been rubbed out long ago, but I know that I had -not told my mother anything of the treatment. I -had said that the forcible feeding was “only pain”—so -it was.</p> - -<p>In the autumn of this year, 1910, I had a slight -heart-seizure. I got out of bed in the morning, and -was taken with paralysis down one side. I could -not move for about an hour, when I managed to -crawl back to bed. I had a nurse for six weeks and -then it was over.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="XV" title="CHAPTER XV. THE CONCILIATION BILL">CHAPTER <abbr title="15">XV</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">THE CONCILIATION BILL</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">On</span> June 12, 1910, I received a letter from -Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, in which she told me that -I had been made a paid organizer to the Union, at -<abbr title="$2 pounds">£2</abbr> a week, and that the committee wished to make -this appointment retrospective for the past six -months from January, 1910. I felt very much -honoured and pleased. It enabled me to take a -small flat in London near the Euston Road, so -that I was not far from the office at Clement’s -Inn and close, too, to a good many railway -stations. It was quicker for me than having to -go home to the country when I was on speaking -tours, and also far more convenient for the London -work.</p> - -<p>In February, 1910, a truce was called after the -elections. Mr. Gladstone, made Lord Gladstone, -went to South Africa as Governor-General, and he -was succeeded by Mr. Winston Churchill at the -Home Office. Mr. Brailsford had spent much time -and effort negotiating between all the Suffrage -parties in the House of Commons, and he as secretary, -and my brother, Lord Lytton, as president, -negotiated a committee for the “Conciliation Bill.” -This is the Bill in full:—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="title3">“<span class="smcap">The Conciliation Bill for Woman Suffrage.</span></p> - -<p class="title3">“A Bill to confer the Parliamentary Franchise -on Women.</p> - -<p>“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 -for the county or borough in which the qualifying -premises are situated.</p> - -<p>“2. For the purposes of this Act a woman shall -not be disqualified by marriage from 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.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>That is the Bill which was slightly modified in -1911, so as to remove any reasonable fear of plural -or faggot voting. It looked as if the Conciliation Bill -had everything in its favour and that it would pass. -Ninety city, town and county councils, and thirty -district councils petitioned or passed resolutions -that the Bill should become law. These included -the city councils of Birmingham, Bradford, Cardiff, -Dublin, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Leeds, Liverpool, -Manchester, Newcastle, Nottingham, Sheffield. In -1910 the Bill was carried on second reading by a -majority of 110. In 1911 it was again read a -second time and secured a majority of 167. Among -those who voted for it were Mr. Birrell, Mr. John -Burns, Sir Edward Grey, Mr. Runciman; Mr. -Balfour, Mr. Bonar Law, Mr. Lyttelton, Mr. -Wyndham; Mr. Barnes, Mr. Keir Hardie, Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -Ramsay Macdonald, Mr. Snowden; Mr. Devlin, -Mr. Healy, Mr. Swift MacNeill, Mr. W. Redmond. -All parties made friends over it.</p> - -<p>On Friday, November 18, 1910, Mr. Asquith made -a statement in the House of Commons omitting all -reference to Woman Suffrage, but announcing the -Dissolution for Monday, November 28. On learning -that Mr. Asquith had definitely decided to shelve -the Conciliation Bill, it was determined to send a -Deputation to him forthwith. At the head were -Mrs. Pankhurst, the founder of the W.S.P.U. and -Mrs. Garatt Anderson, twice Mayor of Aldeburgh, -who is one of the pioneer women doctors and sister -of Mrs. Fawcett. Among other well-known women -were Mrs. Hertha Ayrton, the distinguished scientist, -Mrs. Cobden Sanderson, Mrs. Saul Solomon, -Mrs. Brackenbury, widow of General Brackenbury, -over seventy years of age, Miss Neligan, who is -seventy-eight years of age, the Hon. Mrs. Haverfield, -and the Princess Sophia Dhuleep Singh. The Deputation -was composed of 300 women, but was divided -into detachments of twelve each. They were not -received and were treated worse than any since the -conflict between women and the Government began. -The orders of the Home Secretary were, it appears, -that the police were to be present, both in uniform -and in plain clothes among the crowd, and that the -women were to be thrown from one to the other. -The police were guilty both of torture and of -indecency. The women were accused of violence -and mendacity. Reports were afterwards made by -Lord Robert Cecil, K.C., and Mr. Ellis J. Griffith, -K.C., M.P., on the women whom they had examined.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> -Lord Robert Cecil writes in his letter to the -<cite>Times</cite>:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“All that can be said at present is that the -women strenuously deny that they were guilty of -any such violence. If they were, it is at least -curious that they were not immediately arrested, -and that, as I understand, no evidence of any -serious assault was offered against any of those who -were ultimately brought before the Court....</p> - -<p>“Mr. Churchill accuses them of mendacity. Such -an accusation requires more than the <i>ipse dixit</i> of a -Minister to support it. Nor is it in accordance with -the principles of British justice to reject without -investigation the evidence of scores of apparently -respectable women.</p> - -<p>“In conclusion, may I ask whether anyone thinks -that if the Deputation had consisted of unarmed men -of the same character, their demand for an inquiry -would have been refused? Who can doubt that -the Home Secretary and the other Ministers would -have tumbled over one another in their eagerness -to grant anything that was asked? Are we then -to take it as officially admitted that in this country -there is one law for male electors and another for -voteless women?</p> - -<p class="big_sig"><span class="in_a_bit4">“Yours obediently,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Robert Cecil</span>.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>Mr. Ellis Griffith wrote at the end of his letter to -the <em>Times</em>:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“It is certainly difficult, under the circumstances, -to bring responsibility home to individuals, but I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> -amply satisfied that there was unnecessary and -excessive violence used against the women who took -part in the Deputation, and that they were assaulted -in a way that cannot be justified.</p> - -<p>“Under these circumstances, I strongly support a -searching and impartial inquiry....</p> - -<p class="big_sig"><span class="in_a_bit7">“Yours faithfully,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Ellis J. Griffith</span>.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>The Home Secretary refused all idea of a public -inquiry.</p> - -<p>The morning after the Deputation, Saturday, -November 19, 1910, those who had been arrested -the night before were all dismissed; it was thought -bad election tactics to be responsible for the imprisonment -of women of good reputation who were merely -fighting for their freedom.</p> - -<p>Mr. Asquith on Friday, November 18, promised -that he would make a statement about the Women’s -Bill on the following Tuesday. On Tuesday, -November 22, accordingly, it was made: “The -Government will, if they are still in power, give -facilities in the next Parliament for effectively proceeding -with a Bill which is so framed as to admit of -free amendment.” The statement fulfilled none of -the conditions which had been made by the W.S.P.U. -We held that the pledge must be to give full facilities -for a Woman Suffrage Bill next Session—next Parliament -was a mockery of a pledge. The Bill in question -must be no more extended in scope than the Bill -introduced by Mr. Shackleton or the Women’s -Enfranchisement Bill introduced two years ago by -Mr. Stanger. A pledge to give facilities to a Bill on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -a so-called democratic basis would be worthless, it -would not have a chance of passing through either -House of Parliament.</p> - -<p>The House rose immediately when Mr. Asquith -had made his statements. The women waited this -pronouncement in the Caxton Hall, and on receipt -of it marched to Downing Street, Mrs. Pankhurst at -their head, to see Mr. Asquith. Here the detachment -of police at first was small and the line was -broken by the onrush of the women. But reinforcements -of police rapidly arrived and a severe -struggle ensued. Many women were hurt who were -thrown about the street or crushed, and there were -150 to 160 charged at the police court the next day. -In the evening parties of women visited the houses of -the Cabinet and threw stones, breaking some of -their windows. Mr. Muskett, who prosecuted the -next day, withdrew all the cases of “simple obstruction,” -and only allowed the cases of “stone-throwing -and assault.” From the day of “Black Friday,” -as November 18, 1910, was called, stone-throwing -became easy to the women—it ensured arrest -instead of being assaulted and injured.</p> - -<p>This was the eve of the election. The policy of -the W.S.P.U. was to oppose all Liberal candidates -unless they could get a definite pledge from the -Prime Minister that, if in power, he would allow the -Conciliation Bill to be taken through all its stages -next Session. The Liberals were returned, still -commanding a Parliamentary majority in the House -of Commons, and the House of Commons contained -an even larger majority of members prepared to -vote for a practicable scheme of Woman Suffrage,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> -on the lines of the Conciliation Bill. In May, 1911, -this Bill was brought in by Sir Alfred Mond; it -triumphantly passed the second reading by a -majority of 167.</p> - -<p>In June Lord Lytton had written to Mr. Asquith -asking for assurances (1) that the facilities offered -for next Session were intended as an effective -opportunity for carrying the Bill, and not merely -for academic discussion; (2) that the week offered -would not be construed rigidly, and also that provided -the Committee stage were got through in the -time, additional days for report and third reading -would be forthcoming; and (3) that there would be -reasonable opportunities for making use of the -closure. To this Mr. Asquith replied (on Friday, -June 16, 1911):—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">My dear Lytton</span>,—In reply to your letter on -the subject of facilities for 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 -express the intentions of the Government.</p> - -<p>“It follows (to answer your specific inquiries) -that ‘the week’ offered will be interpreted with -reasonable elasticity, that the Government will -interpose no obstacle to a 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 would not be -refused.</p> - -<p>“The Government, though divided in opinion on -the merits of the Bill, are unanimous in their deter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>mination -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.</p> - -<p class="big_sig"><span class="in_a_bit6">“Yours, etc.,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">H. H. Asquith</span>.”</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>This letter was further certified in August:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">My dear Lytton</span>,—I have no hesitation in -saying that the promises made by, and on behalf of, -the Government, in regard to giving facilities for -the ‘Conciliation Bill,’ will be strictly adhered to, -both in letter and spirit.</p> - -<p class="big_sig"><span class="in_a_bit6">“Yours sincerely,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">H. H. Asquith</span>.</p> - -<p>“August 23, 1911.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>This promise, after the phenomenal majority in -the House of Commons, was a solemn pledge made -by Mr. Asquith to be fulfilled in the next year. It -was a pledge which the friends of women took -absolutely in good faith. On the strength of it, -the truce was prolonged in 1911 with belief in the -guarantee for the following year.</p> - -<p>On November 7, 1911, Mr. Asquith announced to -a deputation of the People’s Suffrage Federation -that he was going to bring in a Manhood Suffrage -Bill next Session. There was no agitation or -demand for more votes for men; this was in answer -to the widespread demand of votes for women. The -majority already recorded for Woman Suffrage in -the House of Commons was composed of members<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> -of all political parties. The Government’s present -policy destroyed this composite majority by alienating -Unionists and moderate Liberals. In other -words, it rendered impossible the non-party solution -of the Woman Suffrage question, towards which -we had been working for months. We consented -to the Conciliation Bill because it gave virtual -equality to women with men, and because it made -inevitable the equality of the sexes under any -subsequent franchise measure. But we absolutely -refused to accept the Conciliation Bill as the accompaniment -of Manhood Suffrage Bill.</p> - -<p>We and many other of the Suffrage Societies were -received in deputation by Mr. Asquith, only to be -told the case over again. He had not changed his -opinion since 1908. The Manhood Suffrage Bill -would make no difference to us, who could bring in -an amendment!</p> - -<p>The leaders of the W.S.P.U. determined to go on a -deputation to the House of Commons on Tuesday, -November 21, with Mrs. Pethick Lawrence to lead -them. I intended to accompany them as a stone-thrower; -the police on Black Friday (1910) had made -the other way—that of going on a deputation—impossible -for me, unless I were to see death, and -this seemed useless. It was an understood thing -that this time, if we were imprisoned, we should not -hunger-strike.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="XVI" title="CHAPTER XVI. HOLLOWAY REVISITED: MY FOURTH IMPRISONMENT">CHAPTER <abbr title="16">XVI</abbr><br /> - -<span class="sub_head">HOLLOWAY REVISITED: MY FOURTH IMPRISONMENT</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">I determined</span> that I would do my work alone. -I was afraid that, if I combined with others, I might -fail them, through illness, when they counted on me. -Some days later Miss Lawless said she would come -too, and, as she kindly chose to do the job with me, all -was well. I selected a post office window in Victoria -Street, on the left-hand side, facing Westminster. -I went to buy some stamps there the day before to -make sure of my bearings. I studied all the windows -where it would be safe, and where not safe, to do the -work of smashing without hurting anyone inside.</p> - -<p>A friend, Mrs. MacLeod, came to see me the -evening before, November 20, 1911. She brought -me flowers, lovely lilies-of-the-valley and two -bunches of violets. She told me she had bought -them in Piccadilly from a girl that was sitting round -the fountain. “They are for a friend of mine who -is going to fight for the women to-morrow”; she -wasn’t sure she had said it in a way the girl could -understand. “Oh! May God bless her, God bless -them all! Here, lady, take this extra bunch of -violets for her.” She called this out enthusiastically, -as she collected the flowers.</p> - -<p>This time I had a small hammer as well as three -stones wrapped in paper. The hammer, of course, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> -the safest as well as the most efficient of my tools, -but one had to be quite near to the window in order -to use it. Another dear friend, Dr. Alice Ker, came -to me from Liverpool on the day, Tuesday, -November 21. She was coming to the fray in -Westminster, but she did not wish to get arrested. -Towards six o’clock we took a taxi and went together -to the beginning of Victoria Street. Then we got -out and each went our own way. I walked up and -down the street, first along one side, then along the -other, and I inspected the side parallel streets. -Victoria Street I had always supposed was rather a -long one, but on this occasion it was infinitely short, -and I seemed to pass the same people over and over -again. Once I jumped into a ’bus to go up again -towards Westminster, and there I came across -many of my friends, who doubtless were going to the -preliminary meeting at Caxton Hall. At last when -standing, as it seemed to me, for the fiftieth time in -front of a door with pillars, which was our trysting -place, I met Miss Lawless and soon after Miss -Douglas Smith, who had said she would join us for a -little, as she had to go to all who were “active” in -Victoria Street. We turned into a “Lyons” for -some tea, the whole place was full of our friends and -a detective or two. A cat was there; she came to -lie on my lap and I had to turn her off when we -left.</p> - -<p>The time was getting near; we were to wait until -the clock struck 8; we were none of us to move -before and not much later. At last there was a -noise of many people coming round the corner of a -street; it was Mrs. Pethick Lawrence walking at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> -head of her Deputation. A large crowd surrounded -them and cheered them on their way to Westminster. -Miss Lawless and I had taken up our position -already on the steps leading to the post office we -had selected. As soon as the Deputation had -passed, the clock of Big Ben began striking eight. -I said, “I can wait no longer,” and I turned and -smashed the glass of two doors and one window. I -raised my arms and did it deliberately, so that -every one in the street could see. Miss Lawless -smashed the windows to my right. We were going -down the steps and I was afraid no policemen had -been near, when two came from over the way. All -was peaceable and friendly. My policeman said to -me with a smile, “I’ll take you this way, lady, see? -And that won’t inconvenience you.” With that he -adjusted his grasp at my elbow. I said to him: -“Unless you are obliged, don’t hurry your pace -more than you can help,” and he walked at my pace -through Westminster to Cannon Row. He also -disarmed me, taking my hammer. In Westminster -the crowd was immense and at the bottom of -Whitehall, but we got through all right, and Miss -Lawless kept close behind me.</p> - -<p>Cannon Row was already crowded with women. -We stood in a closely packed ring to give our names, -and afterwards our names were called out before we -went upstairs. To my surprise and great delight -Lady Sybil Smith was there. I knew she herself -had been wishing to go on a deputation for some -time. We were taken into the cells to be searched, -but this was not the grim business that it sounds. -We were left to walk quite by ourselves; a policeman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> -showed us in and we were put four or five together -in a cell. The door was left open, and a wardress -asked respectfully if she might search us. We said, -“Yes, most certainly,” and began to deliver up our -stones. The wardress’s face was all kindness, and -no sooner had the policeman gone away from the -door than she burst out with: “Oh! you ladies, -I’d be with you to-morrow if it weren’t for my -child. I am a widow with one child. If only these -politicians knew what that meant! They can talk -fine about the widow, but when it comes to her -earning a livelihood they don’t help her.” It -seemed wonderful, she understood. Meanwhile she -was picking out the stones from our pockets. We -were allowed to go back to the central room as soon -as it was finished, we left a friend behind us in -the wardress. Upstairs, in the policemen’s billiard -room, we sat in crowds, and everything was noticeably -different from last time. All was joy and -triumph, and there seemed the echo of these from -the street. I felt quite an old hand, and was going -about the room collecting telegrams; I had bought a -packet of forms on the chance. A policeman was -singled out and stood waiting for them in a meek and -respectful attitude. One woman, who looked about -sixty or sixty-five, had written a telegram but had put -no signature; I asked if there was to be none. She -hesitated for a moment and then added: “Well—put -Mother.” I thought it must be rather trying -when it was a “daughter,” but much more when it -was a “mother,” and she getting on in years. There -was a girl lying down in the window recess where I -had gone with my cough last time; she was ashy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> -pale. I went up to her and asked her if she felt ill. -Her face immediately lit up with a radiant smile—“I’m -not ill now, but I have been for three months.” -I said how wonderful was the feeling of the movement, -as one realised the difference which a year -had made it was impossible that one should feel -depressed, though one might be depressed for oneself. -“No,” she said, “I am never depressed now.” -Had she a mother? “Oh! mother would be here -too, only she is a cripple.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Pethick Lawrence had come and was given -a great cheer. She looked well and beamingly -happy. The Deputation had been much more -hustled about than we who had done damage, but -still, there was no real roughness that I could hear of, -and they had been arrested comparatively quickly. -Mr. Lawrence’s welcome face came and he bailed us -out, though it was a long business this time. When -we drove away, every window in Whitehall bore the -mark of the women upon it, with the unmistakable -smashing, till it looked, as I passed, as though -every window smiled.</p> - -<p>On Wednesday, November 22, I sent off a telegram, -saying that I was arrested, to our organiser -at Liverpool for a meeting at which I was going to -speak. It was a joint meeting of W.S.P.U., National -Unionist and Conservative Suffragists; Lord Selborne -was to speak for the Conservatives. It had -been arranged when we were at peace with the -Government; that peace was now at an end. I -then went to Bow Street. There were crowds of -women; we each took luggage and wraps, for -under Mr. Winston Churchill’s new rule we were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> -allowed to wear our own day and night clothes, -and not obliged to have prison food. There was no -difference in being allowed to see visitors or have -letters. Books not dealing with current events -were allowed, but one could not take them out of -prison. At Bow Street we were put into the -big room upstairs; again a policemen’s billiard -room. Large as it was, it was very crowded, and I -kept my seat on my luggage in the passage outside. -Amongst others, there was a little American woman, -whose husband stuck by her like a man till he should -be separated by imprisonment. They had been in -India, had heard much there about the Suffragettes, -and one lady with whom they had dined had warned -him against his wife becoming one of them. I saw -there two Hertfordshire members, which did my -heart good, when I remembered that a little time -ago the whole county was asleep. Whenever I was -able, I sat back on my luggage and wrote letters; -it was the only way I could escape from talking to -everyone, which was most delightful but I was very -tired. We waited all day to learn in the evening -that we must return to-morrow. I went to my -mother from Bow Street who was staying in London -at that time.</p> - -<p>Three times this autumn, after making a speech, -I had been taken with heart-seizure and incapacitated -for about a quarter of an hour. On Thursday -morning, November 23, I was ill, on waking, with a -heart collapse. In spite of my best efforts, I could -scarcely hold up my head or speak. Mrs. Francis -Smith, one of my dearest friends, had come to my -rooms to see how I was, and she determined to call<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> -at Bow Street and find out for me if I could not put -off going there till the afternoon. She came back, -saying that she had had an interview with Inspector -A——, who had already shown great kindness to -me, and he had said I was not to trouble about the -morning, that it would do quite well if I came in the -afternoon. I lay down on my bed till nearly 2 -o’clock, when I felt much better. Then I went to -Bow Street. The woman who did my room came -with me and carried my luggage; she also fetched -me milk into the police station. She knew several -of the policeman personally, so she managed everything -very easily. I went on a deputation with -Mrs. Haverfield and Mrs. Mansell-Moulin to Inspector -A——, to say that unless the women could be -told on leaving whether they would be wanted -the next day, they would not go away. As this -meant finding cells for all of us—we were 220 women -in all—probably we should have to be put four or -five in a cell together; it was speedily arranged and -we were told that night when we should be wanted; -I was one of those who came the following day. I -went again that evening to my mother.</p> - -<p>The next morning, Friday, November 24, I woke -all right and went to Bow Street quite happily. -Before our trial we were taken down into the passage -next the police court, and put <i>vis-à-vis</i> to the policemen -who had arrested us, as at my first trial. -The magistrate was Sir Albert de Rutzen, who was -too old for his work. Miss Lawless was accused -with me. The hammers and stones were shown in -witness against us, and the damage estimated at -<abbr title="3 pounds 15 shillings">£3 15<i>s</i>.</abbr> Mr. Muskett, the prosecutor, in totalling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> -up my record, mentioned that I had been to Holloway -after a deputation to the House of Commons, -and in Newcastle I was imprisoned for throwing a -stone at a motor car, but he did not mention “Jane -Warton” at Liverpool. When I reminded him that -he had left her out, he said testily, “Well, I’m very -glad if I have.” I said it was quite true that I -used a hammer and stones to break windows. I -realised that this was the only effective means of -protest left to us by a Government which boasts of -Liberalism and representation where men are concerned, -but ignores the elementary principles of -representation where women are concerned. Votes -and riot are the only form of appeal to which this -Government will respond. They refuse us votes, -we fall back on riot. The wrongs they inflict on -women are intolerable, and we will no longer tolerate -them—— Here the magistrate interrupted me; -he could not enter into a discussion on the subject, -and referred to the fact that Mr. Asquith had -received a deputation last Friday. I said, “I -heard Mr. Asquith say he would do nothing in regard -to women.” The magistrate then advocated peaceful -agitation. I answered that this Government -have said they will do absolutely nothing as a -Government, and Mr. Asquith is exactly where he -was in 1908; all our peaceful agitation has been -valueless in his eyes. I said that although we committed -the acts alleged, we were not guilty of crime, -our conduct being fully justified by the circumstances -of the case. “I appeal to you, Sir, to -vindicate the fundamental laws of liberty which our -country has revered for generations,” and with that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> -I concluded. Miss Leslie Lawless said that if to -fight for one’s liberty was a crime, she was guilty, -but she pleaded not guilty, as that was the only -protest that this Government understood. Our -sentence was one of a fine of 40<i><abbr title="shillings">s.</abbr></i> and <abbr title="37 shillings and sixpence">37<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></abbr> -damage each, or fourteen days’ imprisonment—half -the sentence that I had received when I went to -the House of Commons, doing absolutely nothing -and being mauled by the police.</p> - -<p>We were not put into the cells, but again taken -upstairs to a room close to the larger one. There -was my friend, Adela Smith, with Olive Schreiner’s -friend, Mrs. Purcell, and Mrs. Tudor, of St. Albans. -All these were not among the condemned, but had -been let in to see their friends. Towards half-past -five Inspector A—— came and told me that -presently a taxi would be round to take me to -Holloway, that there would be a policeman inside, -but that the other two could be any “fellow criminals” -I liked. I at once chose Mrs. Leigh, who had -been condemned to two months’ imprisonment, -though she was said only to have struck a policeman -in defence of another woman. I was immensely -proud to take her with me. I also chose Miss -Lawless. The policeman was in plain clothes and -very amiable. Miss Lawless discovered that she -had left her purse behind. We went back for it, -and, on arriving at Bow Street, I decided that the -constable should get out with Miss Lawless, put her -in charge of another policeman, then return and -mount guard on us. He was delighted to do this. -From the point of view of our safety, of course, -nothing could have been more absurd; we were not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> -in the courtyard of the police-station, and nothing -would have been easier than to open the door the -other side of the pavement and, with the noise of the -street, Mrs. Leigh or I could have escaped. But it -was understood all round that this was not the -game, and we waited quietly for the policeman to -return and, finally, Miss Lawless and the purse.</p> - -<p>At Holloway all was civility; it was unrecognisable -from the first time I had been there. There -were no reception cells for us, but we were taken at -once to our separate cells in D X, where, after a time -the Matron, and afterwards the doctor came to see -us. Nothing could have been more charming than -the Matron—another woman than had been there -before. She asked me at once after Miss Davison; -was she coming this time? The Matron had been -at Manchester when the hose-pipe had been played -on her. This she asked before two wardresses, and in -a voice of sympathetic intonation. I said I did not -think she was coming this time, but it would not be -long probably before she was in prison again. Then -came Dr. Sullivan. His manner was kind, as it had -always been, but I no longer felt the same towards -him since he had fed some of the prisoners by force. -He said at once, after testing my heart, that I could -not stay there, but must go at once to hospital. I -said I was much more comfortable where I was than -in the general ward, and that I could not sleep there. -He said he meant to put me in a cell apart. I was -then moved over to the hospital side. There on -the ground floor was the superintendent officer -I had known before. I smiled, but she looked as -if she did not recognise me. She went with me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> -upstairs. “I believe,” I said, as she opened a door, -“it is the very same cell I had before.” “No,” she -answered, “the one next door,” and her reserve, to -my great delight, broke down. I unpacked my -flannel sheets, my flannel nightgown, and my long -bed-socks, and made myself ready for the night. -It was almost unbelievable to have so much comfort -in a place which before had been the very acme of -discomfort. They brought me a pint mug of milk -and a small white loaf before the night. It was -about eight o’clock by the time I got to bed, but the -hours, I supposed, were the same as they had been -in Holloway before, and besides, I was dead tired.</p> - -<p>The next day, Saturday, November 25, I felt ill -in the morning. The prison was scarce of food—at -least, there were no vegetables; they gave me bread -and butter and a pudding for luncheon. The -Governor came, Dr. Scott, and he was amiability -itself, I was only to take care of myself. Since all -was made easy, I stayed in bed that day.</p> - -<p>The girl who was let in to wash my floor was fair-haired, -with a most pleasant and intelligent face. I -longed to know about her, but a wardress stood at the -door looking on at her work all the time, and I did -not once catch her eye. On Sunday, November 26, I -felt no better and again stayed in bed. The second -doctor, a new man, who was pleasant in his manner, -came to see me. In the morning when I had been -let out to the sink, the little prisoner who washed -my floor met me coming out. My back was turned -for a moment; she patted my shoulder and said, in -a tone of voice of utmost comfort, “Cheer up!” -By the time I looked round she was off somewhere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> -else and no one would have supposed that she had -communicated with me. After that I was determined -to get some snatch conversation with her -when she was in my cell. When she washed out -that morning, I said to her—it was always the first -thing—“How long have you got?” “Three years,” -was the answer. This greatly surprised me, for -Holloway was not the place for long sentences, but I -could not ask her then, there was not time to tell, -only time for bare questions and answers. I asked, -“What was it for?” “Stealing my mother’s -skirt,” she said. This was more startling than ever. -Where was the mother’s skirt one could “steal”? -But the wardress looked in and we were obliged to -stop. On another occasion she told me that she -had been very ill on first coming to Holloway, and -that was why she had been kept there. Another -time she slipped this notice under the door, and -signalled to me by opening the gas-jet glass from the -passage. On one side of the little torn bit of paper -was written, “Z— A—, Boardstil Institution, Hailsbray”; -on the other side, “I shall be glad to -hear from you because I have no friends at all and -it will cheer me up.” I longed to speak to her, but -I did not see her again after this. It was my last -morning in prison when she put this paper under the -door. After I came out I, of course, wrote to her, -thanked her for her cheering words to me, asked if I -might go and see her, and sent her a little <abbr title="threepenny">3<i>d.</i></abbr> book -of extracts from my father’s poems. I sent these -to the chaplain at Aylesbury and asked him if he -would deliver them. He sent my letter back, saying -that he would not be allowed to give it, for she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> -had already chosen as her correspondent her grandmother -or some old lady. I do not know anything -of her, of her failings or virtues; I only know that -there was no loosening the net that clung round her -so tightly for three years.</p> - -<p>On Sunday, November 26, in the afternoon I -went out to exercise. This was indeed a changed -world. All of us assembled were walking about -arm in arm, as we liked, in rows facing each other, -or round the ground; some of us went apart in a little -side-walk, all talking to one another, and all, of -course, wearing our own clothes. One or two -wardresses were there, but they were smiling all the -time and chatted with us. One of them asked me -why I had not come to visit Holloway. I told her -that they would not allow “criminals” to come -back except as prisoners, that I had tried in vain. -She said I could come as someone who visited the -cooking places, or something of that kind. I was -afraid I was too well known in Holloway, as I had -paid rather frequent visits to the Governor. I saw -and walked with Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, arm in -arm, and nothing that we did caused any disturbance.</p> - -<p>On Monday, November 27, I stayed in bed again, -and at about 11 o’clock the doctor came and -offered me vegetable soup from outside, and massage -from my masseur-doctor, Mr. May. I said surely -that would not be allowed! He told me that of -course in the ordinary course of things it was not -allowed, but, if I wished for it, he would see what -he could do. I refused all these offers, which were -not, so far as I knew, offered to the others. I heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> -after my release, how my dear friends had put themselves -about to get me all these things, and how my -servant had brought soup to the prison every day, -which she had made. I had a tin of biscuits sent in -to me and some orange sweets. As I was not feeling -well, I was unable to eat these, but I managed to -give a good many to the girls who washed my cell. -I only once got a look into the general ward. I saw -Mrs. Mansell-Moullin, Mrs. Mansel and others, but -it did not seem to be the thing for the prisoners from -the cells to go into the general ward. That night -Mrs. Mansel came in to see me from there. She and -some others were to be released the next day. She -had suffered from influenza and had a bad time of -it while she was in prison. We had a long talk, and -she gave me <em>The Man-made World</em>, by Charlotte -Perkins Gilman, to read, as a wonderful book -that had just come out. She was not allowed to -take it out with her. The publisher, Mr. Fisher -Unwin, had kindly sent me the book, but I had not -yet had time to read it. I read it that night and -found it all that she had said—a most remarkable -book. It is dedicated to a man, showing that the -woman’s movement has in it nothing, as is sometimes -supposed, against men, but only against the -vices of some men. In a chapter called “Crime and -Punishment,” this passage struck me with intense -truth: <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>“Does a child offend? Punish it! Does a -woman offend? Punish her! Does a man offend? -Punish him! Does a group offend? Punish them! -‘What for?’ someone suddenly asks. ‘To make -them stop doing it!’ ‘But they have done it.’ -‘To make them not do it again, then.’ ‘But they -do it again and worse.’ ‘To prevent other people’s -doing it, then.’ But it does not prevent them—the -crime keeps on. What good is your punishment to -crime? Its base, its prehistoric base, is simply -retaliation.”</p> - -<p>On Tuesday, November 28, I felt much better and -went out to exercise in the morning. While there -I was summoned to see the Governor. He told me -that my fine had been paid anonymously and that I -was free. Among my friends there is none that I can -think of who would have paid my fine; my state -of health, I suppose, after the forcible feeding, was -“dangerous,” and it was thought safest to pay the -fine “officially.” To my great surprise, the superintendent -came with me to my flat. She was very -dear but quite “official.” As I had packed up my -things rather quickly, I felt ill and not inclined to -talk much. She told me how very overworked the -superintendent officers had been with the 220 -Suffragette prisoners there were this time, she herself -sometimes not getting to bed till one or two in -the morning. She looked very tired and I felt very -sorry for her. It seemed hard that, when they made -us prisoners, so much extra work should fall upon the -wardresses. When we reached the Duke’s Road, -I did not like to ask her into my rooms, not knowing -who would be there, so I said good-bye to her, kissed -her, and begged her to take back the taxi at my -expense. This, however, she refused to do; she preferred -to go home by omnibus, and we parted at the -front door. I went upstairs and found three of my -friends. We were delighted to see each other, but -they soon went away, and I rolled wearily into bed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span></p> - -<p>I frequently had to lie up during the winter and -spring months that followed. On May 5, 1912, I -had a stroke and my right arm was paralysed; also, -slightly, my right foot and leg. I was taken from -my flat to my sister Emily Lutyen’s house, and -for many long months she and my mother and Dr. -Marion Vaughan were kindness itself to me. From -that day to this I have been incapacited for working -for the Women’s Social and Political Union, but I -am with them still with my whole soul.</p> - -<p>And what is this which yet comes to us from the -prisons? The torture of the “Cat-and-Mouse” Act -and of forcible feeding! Oh! if only people could -know what these things signify! But surely they -must understand that they are barbarous practices -such as we have not tolerated for long in our prisons. -“Cat-and-Mouse” Act—what does it mean? The -prisoner does not eat or drink, nothing to pass the -lips; it may be three days, it may be a week, it -may be nine days. Then the prisoner is let out, -watched day and night, and taken back to prison, -back to hunger and thirst, till she is again at death’s -door. This they do twice, three times, four times, -five times, till life is all but out. Not yet have the -Government admitted that they will stop the -“Cat-and-Mouse” torture short of death itself. -And the forcible feeding—what is that? The only -possible excuse for it is that it prolongs the prisoner’s -sentence by so many days, so many weeks, and that -is all. But heed what it is. I have described it -exactly as it was done to me. See what it has -meant in the recent case of Mary Richardson. It -took eight wardresses and one man to overcome her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> -On two occasions it was said: “Twist her arms—the -only way to unlock them.” They held her -feet by pressing in the hollow of her ankles. Occasionally -the doctor pressed her in the chest to hold her -down. He announced that he was going to use the -stomach tube. As he could not get through her -teeth, he put his fingers to the extremity of her jaw, -and with his finger-nail deliberately cut her gum -and cheek until her mouth was bleeding badly. He -then inserted the gag and stomach tube, but she was -so choked by the process that he stopped the feeding, -and said he would return to the nasal tube. This is -inhuman, like the feeding of a beast—no, of an -insentient thing. Where is the gain? A week or -several weeks more of imprisonment, and you have -let in torture to our form of punishment; yes, and -repeated torture, for these prisoners are let out by -the “Cat-and-Mouse” Act, and, on those ghastly -terms, the police will mount guard on them to seize -them again if, according to their judgment, they -have regained sufficient fitness.</p> - -<p>And why are these women imprisoned? Because -they and many thousands, or rather several millions, -of women with them, have asked for the vote, but -the Government would not give it to them. For -forty-five years women have supported their demand -in Parliament for enfranchisement with ever increasing -vigour. Petitions, processions, meetings -and resolutions all over the country were infinitely -greater in number than have been achieved for any -other reform. When the Conciliation Bill was -framed, women waited to see what the Government -would do for them; the vote on the second reading<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> -of the Bill, for the second time, was immense. -Women listened to the pledges of the Government -and they seemed to hold out a certainty of the vote. -Now, when these promises have all been broken, -women have taken to burning empty houses, railway -stations and stacks, though they have respected -life and refrained from wounding, as men would -do for far less a cause. Yes, and they will burn -buildings until they are treated rationally as an -equal part of the human race.</p> - -<p>I hear the cry go up from all parts of the country, -“How long? How long?” The time is fully ripe, -when will women be represented in Parliament by -the vote, equally with men?</p> - -<p class="printed_by space_above">BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. <abbr title="LIMITED">LD.</abbr>, PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="front" title="">SOME PRESS OPINIONS</h2> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“The author has written her book with a broadness of sympathy -that adds dignity and conviction to a document of commendable -frankness. It should serve as a presage of hope and reform for those -who suffer by our present penal system; it also sheds much needed -light on the hidebound officialism that is responsible for what Lady -Constance Lytton has experienced and portrayed. This is, perhaps, -the first time that the inequalities of treatment meted out to the rich -and poor has been so clearly expressed in book form.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Athenæum.</cite></p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“It is the clever and eloquent plea of a remarkable woman.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Pall -Mall Gazette.</cite></p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“<em>A deeply impressive work</em> ... holds the attention from the first, -and leaves an impression that is likely to prove indelible ... it is -impossible to read this narrative without being struck by the sustained -heroism that has been exhibited.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Telegraph.</cite></p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“This sincere and illuminating book ... an extremely fine and -sensitive study of an English lady.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Westminster Gazette.</cite></p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“A very moving and remarkable addition to the literature of the -prison.... This unpretending and generous volume is likely to be -one of the classic books of reference in regard to the sufferings of the -revolutionary woman.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily News.</cite></p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“One of the most fascinating books you ever read.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Manchester -Courier.</cite></p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Her story is certainly impressive. As a piece of literature it is -admirable, and as a contribution to our knowledge of what prison life -is and of what its effect upon the individual may be it is important -and valuable.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Liverpool Daily Post.</cite></p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Its direct and immediate appeal extends far beyond the confine -of any movement, however significant and great. It is a story for all -sorts and all conditions of women and men, irrespective of individual -differences in matters of political and social faith.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Votes for Women.</cite></p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Constance Lytton is an incarnation of the Christ spirit, if ever -there was one. The story of her deeds—the motive that inspired -them—is worthy of being enshrined in the Sacred Books of the -race.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Christian Commonwealth.</cite></p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“... not politics but psychology, and a fluent and brilliant -exposition it is.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Observer.</cite></p></blockquote> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“... life itself, facts lived and suffered within the past year or -two, an autobiography written with the tears and blood of a woman.... -Her book is a tragic document which leaves a man sad and -wondering.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Graphic.</cite></p></blockquote> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 title=""><span class="title3">A LIST OF</span><br /> - -<span class="title2">CURRENT FICTION</span><br /> - -<span class="title5">PUBLISHED BY</span><br /> - -<span class="title2">WILLIAM HEINEMANN</span><br /> - -<span class="title4">AT 21 BEDFORD ST., LONDON, W.C.</span></h2> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/catalog_logo.jpg" alt="W H" width="123" height="150" title="W H (Publisher’s logo)" /> -</div> - -<p>MR HEINEMANN will always be pleased to send -periodically particulars of his forthcoming publications to any -reader who desires them. In applying please state whether you -are interested in works of Fiction, Memoirs, History, Art, -Science, etc.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2a" id="Page_2a">[2]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE DARK FLOWER</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by JOHN GALSWORTHY</p> - -<p class="ad">“Human emotion at the intensity that is begotten of -conflict insoluble, and not merely of satiable and sated -aspiration, is, at least, the novelist’s pre-occupation in this -volume. And, like the old tragedians, he stands apart from -his grim rendering of life, drawing no moral save that of -pity and terror.... One need scarcely say that with -this novel Mr. Galsworthy has added another to his series -of powerful, vivid, and sincere studies of human nature. -His characters stand out with the firmness of life.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Telegraph.</cite></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="smaller">Author of</span><br /> -MAN OF PROPERTY<br /> -THE ISLAND PHARISEES<br /> -THE PATRICIAN<br /> -A MOTLEY<br /> -COUNTRY HOUSE<br /> -FRATERNITY<br /> -THE INN OF TRANQUILITY<br /> -MOODS, SONGS & DOGGERELS<br /> -</p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">MARRYING OF HESTER RAINSBROOK</h3> - -<p class="ad_by">by J. A. REVERMORT</p> -<p class="ad">“This novel is permeated not only by real culture, but by -genuine insight into character, and the romance of ‘Hester -Rainsbrook’ with the man whose dark background she -redeems is well worth reading. The minor characters, too, -stand out in excellent perspective.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>T.P.’s Weekly.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE PERFECT WIFE</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by JOSEPH KEATING</p> - -<p class="ad">“It is all written in the gayest, happiest spirit of light -comedy ... the whole thing is cleverly and entertainingly -done ... the story holds you interested and -amused throughout.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>The Bookman.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“It is a pure comedy ... it makes excellent and exciting -and humorous reading. There is plenty of good -character-drawing to boot, and the writing is simple and -effective and often witty.... Mr. Keating has written -a very entertaining story, and we are grateful to him.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Chronicle.</cite></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3a" id="Page_3a">[3]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE MILKY WAY</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by F. TENNYSON JESSE</p> - -<p class="ad">“A light-hearted medley, the spirit and picturesqueness -of which the author cleverly keeps alive to the last act.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Times Literary Supplement.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“A book of youth and high spirits! That is the definition -of this altogether delightful ‘Milky Way’ ... this -wholly enchanting ‘Viv,’ her entourage ... as gay and -irresponsible as herself.... Miss Tennyson Jesse has -great gifts; skill and insight, candour, enthusiasm, and a -pleasant way of taking her readers into her confidence -... the final impression is that she enjoyed writing her -book just as much as this reviewer has enjoyed reading it.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Mail.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">INDISCRETIONS OF DR. CARSTAIRS</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by A. de O.</p> - -<p class="ad">“The art of the short story is a rare one, and A. de O. -not only possesses it in a general way, but adds to it what -seems to be the skill of a specialist in the treatment of the -professional motive inspiring all his tales ... he is -undeniably entertaining.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Observer.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">DIANA AND TWO SYMPHONIES</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by FRANCIS TOYE</p> - -<p class="ad">“There is much in this novel that goes crash through -sentimentalism, and there is some excellent characterisation -... the whole breathes such a clear desentimentalised -air that it is invigorating.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily News and Leader.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“The hose of common sense is turned on the persisting -remnants of the romance of Bohemianism.... The book -gives us the contrast between the trivial round of -‘respectable’ society and life among the intellectuals.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Morning Post.</cite></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4a" id="Page_4a">[4]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">GOSLINGS</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by J. D. BERESFORD <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> -<p class="noindent smaller">Author of “Joseph Stahl,” “A Candidate for Truth.”</p> - -<p class="ad">“Many of the scenes of his book will live long in the imagination. -The book is packed with such striking episodes, which purge the -intellect, if not always the soul, with pity and terror and wonder. -Mr. Beresford has, in fact, proved once again that, even if he -may appear somewhat unsympathetic on the emotional side, he has -an intellectual grasp as strong and as sure as that of any living -novelist.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Morning Post.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“It is a wild and airy fantasy, and it embodies some -uncommonly grim home truths. A book of whose -success it is hardly possible to feel uncertain, unless the -public have lost all palate for a tale that can make them -thrill and make them think.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Observer.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">GROWING PAINS</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by IVY LOW <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> -<p class="noindent smaller">(2nd Impression)</p> - -<p class="ad">“It is a clever study of a modern young woman that Miss -Ivy Low has written, clever in its frank presentation of -the thoughts and actions of a somewhat over self-conscious -girl who wishes to find her place in the world and fumbles -and blunders in the seeking.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Telegraph.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE AMBASSADRESS</h3> -<p class="ad_by"> by WILLIAM WRIOTHESLEY <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“‘The Ambassadress,’ among many good and brilliant -points, has the supreme merit of knowing what it talks -about. It is the ‘<i>vie intime</i>’ itself of a brilliant côterie. -The play and interplay of the different nationalities, the -way in which their German background affects them all, -the little incidental scandals and piquancies, the thumb-nail -portraits of pretty, restless women and blasé cynical -men, with the sprinkling of the strong and the sincere which -is the salt of all such brews; the beautiful natures of Alexa -and of her wonderful stepmother; the impression of the -Wagner opera, and the sudden plunge into the depths below -the music, which show that Mr. Wriothesley has some of -the gift of vision as well as observation; all these things -make the book a vivid and uncommon one that can hardly -fail to claim attention.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Evening Standard.</cite></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5a" id="Page_5a">[5]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE SIXTY-FIRST SECOND</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by OWEN JOHNSON <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“What an excellent title, and what an excellent story is -so named!”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Evening News.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“The plot of the novel is ingenious, and the love affair—though -really a side issue—is conducted on lines that -are refreshingly original.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Yorkshire Post.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE KINGDOM</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by HAROLD GOAD <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“Its style and its fine handling will commend it to the -judicious, especially as, despite the knowledge it displays -of the monastic life of to-day and its insight into the -mystical temper, it reveals no bias other than the artist’s -sympathy with the struggles of a human soul.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>The Times.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“The book is excellently written and is a clever study of -a man’s spiritual life.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Graphic.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">JAMES HURD</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by R. O. PROWSE <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“Thoughtful, able and interesting novel. The story cannot -but enhance its author’s reputation.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Scotsman.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">GUTTER BABIES</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by DOROTHEA SLADE <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“She has brought from the heart of the slums some of the -most delicately pathetic and most quaintly humorous -stories that have ever been published. The gutter babies -really live and play and work and die in her delightful -realistic book, and one feels at the end as closely akin to -those small, wild people of the back streets and alleys, as -if one had stolen a little of Miss Slade’s deep understanding -and tender sympathy.</p> - -<p class="ad">“An altogether pleasing and attractive book.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Bookman.</cite></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6a" id="Page_6a">[6]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">A BAND OF BROTHERS</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by CHARLES TURLEY<br /> -</p> - -<p class="ad">“The plot of ‘A Band of Brothers’ is not only excellent, -but quite original.... Mr. Turley’s book, though as -a story it will give abundant pleasure to juniors, will -appeal with even greater effect to parents and guardians.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Spectator.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“Mr. Turley has a greater gift for interpreting the mind -of the school boy and for envisaging his conditions, than -any living writer. We are inclined, after reading ‘A -Band of Brothers,’ to say that he is our greatest writer -of school stories, not excluding Thomas Hughes.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Pall Mall Gazette.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">LU OF THE RANGES</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by ELEANOR MORDAUNT <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> -<p class="noindent smaller">Author of “The Cost of It.”</p> - -<p class="ad">“Miss Eleanor Mordaunt has the art, not only of visualizing -scenes with such imminent force that the reader -feels the shock of reality, but of sensating the emotions -she describes. A finely written book, full of strong -situations.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Everyman.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">VIRGINIA</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by ELLEN GLASGOW <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> -<p class="noindent smaller">(2nd Impression)</p> -<p class="noindent smaller">Author of “Phases of an Inferior Planet.”</p> - -<p class="ad">“From beginning to end the book is alive with absorbing -interest, and all the characters are convincing in their -realism. A sure touch is manifested throughout. It is a -striking work in style, in thought, in sympathy and -understanding. We expect something distinctive from -this author and her latest book splendidly fulfils our -hopes.”</p> - -<p>—<cite>Daily Herald.</cite></p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7a" id="Page_7a">[7]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE WOMAN THOU GAVEST ME</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by HALL CAINE <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“The filling in of the story is marked by all Mr. Hall -Caine’s accustomed skill. There is a wealth of varied -characterisation, even the people who make but brief and -occasional appearances standing out as real individuals, -and not as mere names.... In description, too, the -novelist shows that his hand has lost nothing of its -cunning.... Deeply interesting as a story—perhaps -one of the best stories that Mr. Hall Caine has given us—the -book will make a further appeal to all thoughtful -readers for its frank and fearless discussion of some of the -problems and aspects of modern social and religious life.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Telegraph.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“Hall Caine’s voice reaches far; in this way ‘The -Woman Thou Gavest Me’ strikes a great blow for -righteousness. There is probably no other European -novelist who could have made so poignant a tale of such -simple materials. In that light Mr. Hall Caine’s new -novel is his greatest achievement.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Chronicle.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">Other NOVELS of HALL CAINE</h3> -<p class="center smaller">(of which over 3 million copies have been sold).</p> - -<p class="ad">“These volumes are in every way a pleasure to read. Of -living authors, Mr. Hall Caine must certainly sway as -multitudinous a following as any living man. A novel from -his pen has become indeed for England and America -something of an international event.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Times.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad prices"><span class="smaller">Author of</span><br /> -THE BONDMAN <span class="price small">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr>, 2<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr>, 7d. net.</span><br /> -CAPT’N DAVEYS HONEYMOON <span class="price small">2<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span><br /> -MY STORY <span class="price small">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr>, 2<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr> net.</span><br /> -THE WHITE PROPHET <span class="price small">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span><br /> -THE ETERNAL CITY <span class="price small">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr>, 2<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span><br /> -THE MANXMAN <span class="price small">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr>, 2<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span><br /> -THE PRODIGAL SON <span class="price small">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span><br /> -THE SCAPEGOAT <span class="price small">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr>, 7<abbr title="pence">d.</abbr> net.</span><br /> -THE CHRISTIAN <span class="price small">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr>, 2<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8a" id="Page_8a">[8]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE GARDEN WITHOUT -WALLS</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by CONINGSBY DAWSON</p> - -<p class="ad">“ ... work of such genuine ability that its perusal -is a delight and its recommendation to others a duty.... -It is a strong book, strong in every way, and it is conceived -and executed on a large scale. But long as it is, -there is nothing superfluous in it; its march is as orderly -and stately as the pageant of life itself ... and it is a -book, too, that grows on you as you read it ... and -compels admiration of the talent and skill that have gone -to its writing and the observation and reflection that have -evolved its philosophy of life.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Glasgow Herald.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE REWARD OF VIRTUE</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by AMBER REEVES <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“There is cleverness enough and to spare, but it is ... -a spontaneous cleverness, innate, not laboriously acquired.... -The dialogue ... is so natural, so unaffected, -that it is quite possible to read it without noticing the -high artistic quality of it.... For a first novel Miss -Reeves’s is a remarkable achievement; it would be a -distinct achievement even were it not a first novel.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Chronicle.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">YONDER</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by E. H. YOUNG</p> -<p class="noindent smaller">Author of “A Corn of Wheat.”</p> - -<p class="ad">“The beauty of life shines through it all. The book is -more than a conventional love story. Nothing could be -more beautiful than the affection between Theresa and her -Father, and it is a touch for which alone the story is worth -reading. The Book is written throughout with sympathy -and dignity, and in places sounds a note of poetry.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Mail.</cite></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9a" id="Page_9a">[9]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE TRUTH ABOUT CAMILLA</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by GERTRUDE HALL<br /> -</p> - -<p class="ad">“I have not for a long time past come across a more vivid -personality in fiction.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Punch.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“Camilla never fails the reader, and we are sure very -few readers will fail to give her enough admiration and -affection to satisfy her passionate amour propre. For -ourselves, we think her as delightful as she is amazing. If -this be a first adventure in fiction it is certainly an extraordinarily -good one, and the author is to be congratulated -on what, with little exaggeration, may be -described as a ‘tour de force.’”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Pall Mall Gazette.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE MERRY MARAUDERS</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by ARTHUR J. REES<br /> -</p> - -<p class="ad">“‘The Merry Marauders’ in no way belies its title. In -a gay, light-hearted fashion, whose fun is infectious, it -tells of the vicissitudes of a humble dramatic company in -their efforts to amuse New Zealand.... A book in -which there is a laugh on every page is a rare thing -now-a-days. And ‘The Merry Marauders’ have left us -their debtor.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Outlook.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">LESS THAN THE DUST</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by MARY AGNES HAMILTON <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“There is something delightfully fresh in the method of -treatment, something that seems to mark the passing of -another milestone in the work of the literary woman. -Literary is the right word, for Miss Hamilton’s style bears -the stamp of a natural purity of diction, while her analysis -of emotion and character is keen without being over-protracted.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Telegraph.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10a" id="Page_10a">[10]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">SET TO PARTNERS</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by Mrs. HENRY DUDENEY <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="noindent smaller">Author of “A Runaway Ring,” “The Orchard Thief,” “A Large -Room,” etc.</p> - -<p class="ad">“If we were asked to say what is in ‘Set to Partners’ that -we find so arresting, we should be likely to place the -impression of reality which it conveys above its grim choice -of situation, or even above Mrs. Henry Dudeney’s gift of -delineating character, which is out of the common and yet -never vague ... a piece out of life ... none will deny -the splendid vitality of the work, which is by far the best -that Mrs. Dudeney has yet done.”</p> -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Graphic.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE HIPPODROME</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by RACHEL HAYWARD <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> -<p class="noindent smaller">Illustrated by CLARA WATERS.</p> - -<p class="ad">A brightly coloured story, the scene of which is laid in -Barcelona. A young Irish girl who is dependent on herself -for a means of subsistence becomes a “star” turn at -a circus. While in the back-waters of that existence she -falls in with certain gentlemen of international importance. -She becomes their dupe and slave and passes -through many adventures. But there is a way of escape -and she takes it. Decidedly a book of swift movement -and keen excitement.</p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">LIBBY ANN</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by SADIE CASEY<br /> -</p> - -<p class="ad">“A delightful story of Irish village life, written with -intimate knowledge, and a very vivid pen, resulting in a -charming mosaic of small happenings, none of them made -magically interesting by the craft of the author. If this is -a first book, as it appears to be, it is a grateful duty to -welcome the writer to the realms of fiction, and to hope -that she will add many more such works to her record.... -This is an entirely charming book, full of humour, -and affording a particularly interesting picture of life in -rural Ireland.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Graphic.</cite></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11a" id="Page_11a">[11]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">KING ERRANT</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by FLORA ANNIE STEEL <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> -<p class="noindent smaller">(2nd Impression)</p> -<p class="noindent smaller">Author of “On the Face of the Waters,” etc.</p> - -<p class="ad">“Mrs. Steel has made for herself a high reputation by -the excellence of her Indian novels; in the vividness of -the Oriental picture which it presents her ‘King Errant’ -stands on quite as high a level as her other books.</p> - -<p class="ad cont">“Historically accurate and sufficiently absorbing, and -the results of Mrs. Steel’s careful study of his character is -that Baber stands out from the mists of nearly four centuries -as a very real and attractive person.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Times.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad"> -<span class="smaller">Author of</span><br /> -A PRINCE OF DREAMERS<br /> -THE FLOWER OF FORGIVENESS<br /> -FROM THE FIVE RIVERS<br /> -THE HOSTS OF THE LORD<br /> -IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD<br /> -IN THE PERMANENT WAY<br /> -MISS STUART’S LEGACY<br /> -ON THE FACE OF THE WATERS<br /> -THE POTTER’S THUMB<br /> -RED ROWANS<br /> -A SOVEREIGN REMEDY<br /> -VOICES IN THE NIGHT<br /> -<span class="smaller">and other stories.</span><br /> -</p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">O PIONEERS</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by WILLA S. CATHER<br /> -</p> - -<p class="ad">“An admirably written tale of life in Nebraska.... -The pioneer spirit has been seized and rendered without -gesticulation, and the heroine is an altogether charming -and natural figure.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>T. P’s Weekly.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“Vivid pictures of the old country life of those early -pioneering years are provided, and the sunshine of -romance and the shadow of tragedy flit across the pages -and lift the story to fascinating heights at times.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Scotsman.</cite></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12a" id="Page_12a">[12]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE MOUNTAIN APART</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by JAMES PROSPER<br /> -</p> - -<p class="ad">“This is not merely a ‘clever’ novel, but a book of marked -originality, in which are neither villains nor saints, but real -people whom we come to know intimately.... It is a -book that should be read carefully, and we wish its author -the large public that such work deserves.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Academy.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE LIFE MASK</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by the Author of “He Who Passed.” <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“A highly remarkable novel, with a plot both striking -and original, and written in a style quite distinctive and -charming.”</p> - -<p class="ad">“Seldom, if ever, has a tale given me so genuine a -surprise or such an unexpectedly creepy sensation.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Punch.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">HE WHO PASSED</h3> -<p class="ad_by">To M. L. G. <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“As a story, it is one of the most enthralling I have read -for a long time.... Six—seven o’clock struck—half-past-seven—and -yet this extraordinary narrative of a -woman’s life held me absolutely enthralled.... I forgot -the weather; I forgot my own grievances; I forgot everything, -in fact, under the spell of this wonderful book.... -In fact the whole book bears the stamp of reality -from cover to cover. There is hardly a false or strained -note in it. It is the ruthless study of a woman’s life.... -If it is not the novel of the season, the season is not likely -to give us anything much better.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>The Tatler.</cite></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13a" id="Page_13a">[13]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">JOHN CHRISTOPHER:</h3> -<p class="ad_list"><abbr title="1">I.</abbr> Dawn and Morning.<br /> -<abbr title="2">II.</abbr> Storm and Stress.<br /> -<abbr title="3">III.</abbr> John Christopher in Paris<br /> -<abbr title="4">IV.</abbr> The Journey’s End</p> -<p class="ad_by">by ROMAIN ROLLAND <span class="price"><span class="smaller">each</span> 6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> -<p class="noindent smaller">Translated by GILBERT CANNAN. Author of “Little Brother,” etc.</p> - -<p class="ad">“To most readers he will be a revelation, a new interest -in their lives. Take the book up where you will, and -you feel interested at once. You can read it and re-read -it. It never wearies nor grows irritating.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>The Daily Telegraph.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“His English exercises so easy an effect that the reader -has never for an instant the irritating sense of missing -beauties through the inadequacies of a borrowed language; -we have also compared it in many cases with the original -and found it remarkably accurate. Readers may then be -assured that they will lose but little of Mr. Rolland’s -beauty and wisdom, even though they are unable to read -him in the original, and Mr. Cannan is to be warmly -congratulated.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>The Standard.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“A noble piece of work, which must, without any doubt -whatever, ultimately receive the praise and attention -which it so undoubtedly merits.... There is hardly a -single book more illustrative, more informing and more -inspiring ... than M. Romain Rolland’s creative -work, ‘John Christopher’.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>The Daily Telegraph.</cite></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14a" id="Page_14a">[14]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title_big" title="">THE<span class="sp4"> </span>NOVELS<span class="sp4"> </span>OF<span class="sp4"> </span>DOSTOEVSKY</h3> -<p class="smaller noindent">Translated by CONSTANCE GARNETT</p> - -<p class="ad">“By the genius of Dostoevsky you are always in the -presence of living, passionate characters. They are not -puppets, they are not acting to keep the plot in motion. -They are men and women—I should say you can hear -them breathe—irresistibly moving to their appointed -ends.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Evening News.</cite></p> - -<h4 title=""><abbr title="1">I.</abbr> THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV<br /> -<span class="price h4_price">3/6 net</span></h4> - -<p class="ad">“No other writer perhaps has given to materials so ugly, -not merely strength and life, but grave pathos and tragic -beauty.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Times.</cite></p> - -<h4 title=""><abbr title="2">II.</abbr> THE IDIOT <span class="price h4_price">3/6 net</span></h4> - -<p class="ad">“In many of his novels, Dostoevsky has contrasted -spiritual love and physical passion, but in no other has -the terror of the conflict culminated in such tragic -loneliness as in the final scene of ‘The Idiot.’”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Chronicle.</cite></p> - -<h4 title="">THE POSSESSED</h4> - -<h3 class="ad_title_big" title="">THE<span class="sp4"> </span>NOVELS<span class="sp4"> </span>OF<span class="sp4"> </span>LEO<span class="sp4"> </span>TOLSTOY</h3> - -<p class="smaller noindent">Translated by CONSTANCE GARNETT</p> - -<h4 title="">ANNA KARENIN <span class="price h4_price">2/6 net</span></h4> -<h4 title="">WAR AND PEACE <span class="price h4_price">3/6 net</span></h4> - -<p class="ad">“Mrs. Garnett’s translations from the Russian are always -distinguished by most careful accuracy and a fine literary -flavour.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>The Bookman.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“Mrs. Garnett’s translation has all the ease and vigour -which Matthew Arnold found in French versions of -Russian novels and missed in English. She is indeed -so successful that, but for the names, one might easily -forget he was reading a foreign author.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>The Contemporary Review.</cite></p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15a" id="Page_15a">[15]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by RICHARD DEHAN <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> -<p class="smaller noindent">(2nd Impression)</p> - -<p class="ad">“There is real truth and pathos in the ‘Fourth Volume,’ -originality in ‘The Tribute of Offa,’ and pith in nearly all -of them.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Times.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“There is not one of the tales which will fail to excite, -amuse, entertain, or in some way delight the reader.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Liverpool Daily Post.</cite></p> - -<p class="center noindent same">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">BETWEEN TWO THIEVES</h3> -<p class="smaller noindent">(2nd Impression)<span class="price price_rd">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“The book is really an amazing piece of work. Its abounding -energy, its grip on our attention, its biting humour, its -strong, if sometimes lurid word painting have an effect of -richness and fullness of teeming life, that sweeps one with -it. What an ample chance for praise and whole-hearted -enjoyment. The thing unrols with a vividness that never -fails.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily News and Leader.</cite></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE DOP DOCTOR</h3> -<p class="smaller noindent">(<i>Now in its 16th Edition</i>).<span class="price price_rd">2<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr> net</span></p> - -<p class="ad">“Pulsatingly real—gloomy, tragic, humorous, dignified, -real. The cruelty of battle, the depth of disgusting -villainy, the struggles of great souls, the irony of coincidence -are all in its pages.... Who touches this book -touches a man. I am grateful for the wonderful thrills -‘The Dop Doctor’ has given me. It is a novel among a -thousand.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>The Daily Express.</cite></p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16a" id="Page_16a">[16]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">A LIKELY STORY</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by WILLIAM DE MORGAN <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“How delightful it all is.... Mr. De Morgan is worth -having for himself alone and for the point of view of the -world that he shows us.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Standard.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“The book is great fun.... Much amusement, much -cause for sly chuckling throughout the book.... I have -enjoyed every line of it.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>T. P.’s Weekly.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad">“You cannot resist the charm of the narrator, who -makes you feel as if you were listening to an improvisation.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>The -Spectator.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad"> -<span class="smaller">Author of</span><br /> -JOSEPH VANCE<br /> -ALICE FOR SHORT<br /> -AN AFFAIR OF DISHONOUR<br /> -IT NEVER CAN HAPPEN AGAIN<br /> -SOMEHOW GOOD<br /> -</p> - -<h3 class="ad_title" title="">THE WEAKER VESSEL</h3> -<p class="ad_by">by E. F. BENSON <span class="price">6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr></span></p> - -<p class="ad">“Among the writers of the present day who can make -fiction the reflection of reality, one of the foremost is Mr. -E. F. Benson. From the very beginning the interest is -enchained.”</p> - -<p class="ad_ref">—<cite>Daily Telegraph.</cite></p> - -<p class="ad"> -<span class="smaller">Author of</span><br /> -JUGGERNAUT<br /> -*ACCOUNT RENDERED<br /> -AN ACT IN A BACKWATER<br /> -*THE ANGEL OF PAIN<br /> -*THE BOOK OF MONTHS<br /> -*THE CHALLONERS<br /> -*THE CLIMBER<br /> -THE HOUSE OF DEFENCE<br /> -*THE IMAGE IN THE SAND<br /> -*THE LUCK OF THE VAILS<br /> -*MAMMON & CO.<br /> -*PAUL<br /> -THE PRINCESS SOPHIA<br /> -*A REAPING<br /> -THE RELENTLESS CITY<br /> -*SCARLET AND HYSSOP<br /> -*SHEAVES<br /> -<span class="smaller">Each <abbr title="Crown octavo">Crn. 8vo.</abbr> Price 6<abbr title="shillings">/-</abbr>.</span><br /> -<span class="smaller">Those volumes marked * can also be obtained in the Two Shilling -net Edition, and also the following volumes</span><br /> -THE OSBORNES<br /> -THE VINTAGE<br /> -DODO<br /> -⁂ <span class="smaller">“The Book of Months” and “A Reaping” form one volume -in this Edition.</span> -</p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p class="center">21 BEDFORD STREET, LONDON, W.C.</p> -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Prisons & Prisoners, by Constance Lytton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONS & PRISONERS *** - -***** This file should be named 52944-h.htm or 52944-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/4/52944/ - -Produced by MWS, Fay Dunn and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/52944-h/images/acorn.jpg b/old/52944-h/images/acorn.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d2118e1..0000000 --- a/old/52944-h/images/acorn.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52944-h/images/catalog_logo.jpg b/old/52944-h/images/catalog_logo.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 38bfbc5..0000000 --- a/old/52944-h/images/catalog_logo.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52944-h/images/constance_lytton.jpg b/old/52944-h/images/constance_lytton.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0db1d02..0000000 --- a/old/52944-h/images/constance_lytton.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52944-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/52944-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 039813a..0000000 --- a/old/52944-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52944-h/images/jane_warton.jpg b/old/52944-h/images/jane_warton.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a0d45cd..0000000 --- a/old/52944-h/images/jane_warton.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52944-h/images/medallion.jpg b/old/52944-h/images/medallion.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8aa0641..0000000 --- a/old/52944-h/images/medallion.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/52944-h/images/title_logo.jpg b/old/52944-h/images/title_logo.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a204aad..0000000 --- a/old/52944-h/images/title_logo.jpg +++ /dev/null |
