The long line of bright torches shone menacingly as the women marched slowly back to headquarters, and the crowd dispersed in silence. The White House was empty. But we knew our message would be heard in France.
Chapter 21
Watchfires of Freedom
December came to an end with no plan for action on the amendment assured. This left us January and February only before the session would end. The President had not yet won the necessary 2 votes. We decided therefore to keep a perpetual fire to consume the President’s speeches on democracy as fast as he made them in Europe.
And so on New Year’s Day, 1919, we light our first watchfire of freedom in the Urn dedicated to that purpose. We place it on the sidewalk in a direct line with the President’s front door. The wood comes from a tree in
Independence Square, Philadelphia. It burns gaily. Women with banners stand guard over the watchfire. A bell hung in the balcony at headquarters tolls rhythmically the beginning of the watch. It tolls again as the President’s words are tossed to the flames. His speech to the workingmen of Manchester; his toast to the King at Buckingham Palace: “We have used great words, all of us. We have used the words ‘right’ and ‘justice’ and now we are to prove whether or not we understand these words;” his speech at Brest; all turn into ignominious brown ashes.
The bell tolls again when the watch is changed. All Washington is reminded hourly that we are at the President’s gate, burning his words. From Washington the news goes to all the world.
People gather to see the ceremony. The omnipresent small boys and soldiers jeer, and some tear the banners. A soldier rushes to the scene with a bucket of water which does not extinguish the flames. The fire burns as if by magic. A policeman arrives and uses a fire extinguisher. But the fire burns on! The flames are as indomitable as the women who guard them! Rain comes, but all through the night the watchfire burns. All through the night the women stand guard.
Day and night the fire burns. Boys are permitted by the police to scatter it in the street, to break the. urn, and to demolish the banners. But each time the women rekindle the fire. A squad of policemen tries to demolish the fire. While the police are engaged at the White House gates, other women go quietly in the dusk to the huge bronze urn in Lafayette Park and light another watchfire. A beautiful blaze leaps into the air from the great urn. The police hasten hither. The burning contents are overturned. Alice Paul refills the urn and kindles a new fire. She is placed under arrest. Suddenly a third blaze is seen in a remote corner of the park. The policemen scramble to that corner. When the watchfires have been continued for four days and four nights,, in spite of the attempts by the police to extinguish them, general orders to arrest are sent to the squad of policemen.
Five women are taken to the police station. The police captain is outraged that the ornamental urn valued at $10,000 should have been used to hold a fire which burned the President’s words! His indignation leaves the defendants unimpressed, however, and he becomes conciliatory. Will the “ladies promise to be good and light no more fires in the park?”
Instead, the “ladies” inquire on what charge they are held. Not even the police captain knows. They wait at the police station to find out, refusing to give bail unless they are told. Meanwhile other women address the crowd lingering about the watchfire. The crowd asks thoughtful questions. Little knots of men can be seen discussing “what the whole thing is about anyway.”