I was particularly careful in what I did to be polite and I believe all the other Suffragettes were the same. On Friday I took to my bed and the doctor told me that if I persisted I should get a fever, but I was absolutely determined to do my part, at whatever sacrifice, and I told the Governor that so long as I was responsible for my action I should refuse to take food.
On Sunday night I was removed to the hospital and there a fresh effort was made to get me to take food. Medicine was brought to me, which I absolutely refused, knowing that it was either food in disguise or else intended to aggravate my hunger. On Monday afternoon my head felt exceedingly bad and I hardly knew what I was doing, but I determined that I would not give in. In the evening the Governor came to me and said, "Be very calm." I said to him, "There is a supreme power which gives us strength to bear whatever comes to us." He said, "I have orders to release you," and I said to him, "Does Mr. Gladstone prefer this to doing us justice?"
The other prisoners all told similar stories, each of which unconsciously displayed the most wonderful heroism. One day Miss Mary Allen fell fainting on the stone floor of her punishment cell and when, weak and numb with cold, she regained consciousness, she sang the Women's Marseillaise to cheer herself, and to her delight the occupant of the next cell joined in. So, bravely struggling, each of the women won her way out to freedom, having fasted bravely, some for six and a half, others for six, five and a half, or five days.
Think of the courage of it! To be confined there in semi-darkness when a word would procure release. To withstand the terrible pangs of hunger with food always before one's eyes, distracted by the fever of that unhealthy and fœtid place. To feel oneself growing gradually weaker and weaker, and to know that but a little more, perhaps suddenly, any moment without warning, and the heart will stop. And yet never, never to falter, always to cling on to the word of their faith and the great impersonal ideal. Think of the wonderful courage of it! And after their release it was only with utmost care and cherishing that these dear women were won back to life and in their feeble weariness they felt, even when lying on the softest bed, as though they were stretched upon iron bars.
There were some generous souls, the Reverend Hugh Chapman of the Royal Chapel of the Savoy and others, who raised their voices in protest, and in appeal to the authorities to withdraw their obstinate opposition to the cause for which the women fought, or at least to extend to them the recognised usages of political warfare. It was shown that even according to the strict letter of the law, the women, their stone-throwing notwithstanding, had an unassailable claim to political treatment. In the case of In-re-Castioni, reported in Pitt Cobbett's "Leading Cases on International Law," a Swiss subject named Castioni had been arrested in England at the requisition of the Swiss Government, on a charge of murder. Under the provisions of the Extradition Act of 1870, the prisoner could not be extradited if the offence was of a political character, and the judges unanimously held that even such offences as murder and assassination must be considered political, if committed in the belief that they would promote the political end in view, and as part of, and incidental to, a genuine political agitation, rising, or disturbance.
But the legal and moral justice of their claim, and the heroic courage of the women, were alike disregarded by the Government, and when, on July 21st, private Members of Parliament pressed Mr. Gladstone to relent, and to do justice to the women political prisoners, he retaliated by asserting that they had both kicked and bitten the wardresses. The charge was indignantly repudiated by every prisoner and after careful enquiry the W. S. P. U. issued a statement denying the accusations. Three days later it was announced by the press that Mr. Gladstone had held an enquiry at the prison, as a result of which he had decided that the allegations of assault against the Suffragette prisoners had been clearly proved. The W. S. P. U. then wrote urging that the case ought not to be judged on one-sided evidence and claiming that the Home Secretary should allow the fourteen Suffragettes, against whom the charges had been made to put their side of the matter before him. Mr. Gladstone merely replied that he had already directed proceedings to be taken against Miss Theresa Garnett and Mrs. Dove-Wilcox, two of the Suffragettes concerned, and that these proceedings would afford full opportunity for them to swear to their version of the facts before the Court.
On August 4th these trumped-up charges were heard at the North London Police Court. During the whole course of the agitation the Suffragettes had never sought either to conceal or to deny what they had done, or to escape punishment for their actions, and the police had always readily admitted that they could unhesitatingly accept the word of a Suffragette. It is unnecessary, therefore, to give at any length the evidence put forward at the trial of these two women. Their own statements, calmly and carefully given, even the magistrate, although he punished them, certainly believed.
Miss Theresa Garnett was accused of biting one wardress and striking another. In defending herself against these charges she said:
On Wednesday, July 14th, wardresses entered my cell and ordered me to come down to see the visiting magistrates. I stopped to pick up my bag[36] to bring with me. Immediately the wardresses intervened between me and my bag to prevent me taking it and a scuffle ensued, in the course of which I found myself on my back, and two or three other wardresses came into my cell. In this struggle I did not strike or bite or assault any of the wardresses in any way, but used such force as I was able to put forth in order to regain possession of my property. One of the wardresses tore my dress and it is quite likely that as I took hold of her her dress became torn. I was then conducted to the head of the stairs, and seeing that further attempts to retain my property would be of no avail, I walked quietly down into the magistrates' room. When I was there the charges of breach of prison discipline were made against me and the matron further charged me with having torn the dress of one of the wardresses whilst I was being brought into the room, but no charge of biting the finger of the wardress was made against me. I was then asked whether I had any apology to make.... I was sentenced to eight days' solitary confinement and I made no resistance as I was marched away to a punishment cell. Since I learned that this charge was to be brought against me I have been wondering how it could have arisen. I do not believe that the wardresses would purposely fabricate a charge against me. I am led therefore to suppose that this charge rests upon a mistake. You will have noticed, Sir, that no charge of biting the wardress's finger was preferred against me in the presence of the visiting magistrates, whilst a charge of tearing the wardress's dress, which occurred at the same time that my other act is alleged to have happened, was reported to them then and there. I can only suppose therefore that this charge was an afterthought and that, finding a wound on her finger, the wardress concluded that it had been produced by a bite. Now, Sir, I have dressed myself to-day exactly in the way in which I was dressed that day in Holloway and you will notice that I am wearing this portcullis brooch on my left side.