Meanwhile the watchfires continued in the capital. January thirteenth, the day the great world Peace Conference under the President’s leadership, began to deliberate on the task of administering “right” and “justice” to all the oppressed of the earth, twenty-three women were arrested in front of the White House.
Another trial! More silent prisoners! They were to be tried this time in groups. A roar of applause from friends in the courtroom greeted the first four as they came in. The judge said that he could not possibly understand the motive for this outburst, and added, “If it is repeated, I shall consider it contempt of court.” He then ordered the bailiff to escort the four prisoners out and bring them in again.—Shades of school days!
“And if there is any applause this time . . .”
With this threat still in the air, the prisoners reentered and the applause was louder than before. Great Confusion! The judge roared at the bailiff. The bailiff roared at the prisoners and their friends.
Finally they rushed to the corners of the courtroom and evicted three young women.
“Lock the doors, and see that they do not return,” shouted the angry judge. Thus the dignity of the court was restored. But the group idea had to be abandoned. The prisoners were now brought in one at a time, and one policeman after another testified that, “she kep’ alightin’ and alightin’ fires.”
Five days’ imprisonment for each woman who “kep’ alightin’” watchfires!
On January 25th, in Paris, President Wilson received a delegation of French working women who urged woman suffrage as one of the points to be settled at the Peace Conf6rence. The President expressed admiration for the women of France, and told them of his deep personal interest in the enfranchisement of women. He was ‘honored’ and ‘touched’ by their tribute. It was a great moment for the President. He had won the position in the eyes of the world of a devout champion of the liberty of women, but at the very moment he was speaking to these French women American women were lying in the District of Columbia jail for demanding liberty at his gates.
Mrs. Mary Nolan, the eldest suffrage prisoner, took to the watchfire those vain words of the President to the French women. The flames were just consuming—“All sons of freedom are under oath to see that freedom never suffers,” when a whole squadron of police dashed up to arrest her. There was a pause when they saw her age. They drew back for an instant. Then one amongst them, more “dutiful” than the rest, quietly placed her under arrest. As she marched along by his side, cheers for her went up from all parts of the crowd.
“Say what you think about them, but that little old lady has certainly got pluck,” they murmured.