Face to the dawn,
The dawn of liberty.
During the ensuing week two batches of our prisoners were released and each one carried out to us further disquieting news. Mrs. Pankhurst, who was still being punished, had been characterised by the authorities as a "dangerous criminal," and, because she still refused to pledge herself to perpetual silence, a wardress was constantly stationed outside her door to prevent any attempt at communication with her. It was rumoured also that she was very ill and this was confirmed by Mr. Gladstone in reply to questions by Members of Parliament, but my request, either to be allowed to see her for myself, or to send in her own medical attendant to interview her, was denied. Again, on the following Saturday, we marched around the prison but this time accompanied by crowds even greater than before. In the meantime, whilst many questions had been put in the House by Members of Parliament, the Suffragettes who had just been released had paid many visits to the Stranger's Lobby and eventually Mr. Gladstone agreed that Christabel and Mrs. Pankhurst should be allowed to spend one hour of each day together. At the same time he refused to allow Christabel to write a book upon the Women's Suffrage question for a firm of London publishers, to be published after her release, though it was well known that Mr. Ginnell during his imprisonment for inciting to cattle driving, had been allowed to write his book entitled Life and Liberty.
On Saturday, November 19th, thirteen more prisoners were released and we learnt that a fortnight before there had been another so-called "mutiny" in Holloway. Mrs. Leigh had been, falsely accused of inciting the other Suffragette prisoners to mutiny, and as a punishment had been, deprived of exercise and chapel for three days, and Miss Wallace-Dunlop determined to prove her innocence. Every prisoner has the right to lay a complaint before the Governor, but the application to see him is supposed to be made when the cell doors are first opened at six o'clock in the morning, and he afterwards visits the prisoner when and where he may think fit and usually in her own cell. It was necessary for Miss Wallace-Dunlop's purpose that he should come to her when all her fellow prisoners were together in order that each might give her testimony. She accordingly chose to make her application during the associated labour which Dr. Mary Gordon, the new lady Inspector, had instituted that summer. So at half past three that afternoon when the Suffragettes with a space of a yard between each other had seated themselves at a number of deal tables in one of the corridors and had settled down to make shirts and mail bags, she asked the wardress in charge to send for the Governor.
By 5:30, when the time for associated labour was at an end, the Governor had sent no reply and the wardress gave the order, "Return to your cells," but Miss Wallace-Dunlop gave a counter command: "Do not return to your cells." There had been no previous understanding between them, but the women sat firm, and when the order to leave was repeated they still did not move, leaving it to their leader to again explain that they would remain where they were until the Governor or his deputy should arrive. The wardress then sharply blew her whistle, whereupon crowds of tall wardresses appeared from all directions and lined the corridor in long rows. Then Miss Wallace-Dunlop rose. Those of us who know her can well imagine the scene. She has one of those faces that, when we recall them to our minds, we always see as though lit up, turned towards a full light that streams upon them, and at the same time illumined from within. The spirit that glows within them is intensely vibrant with sympathy for others, yet though the sadness of others' sorrow finds instant reflection in them and we know that their hearts throb with the bitter pain of other hearts, a quiet gaiety is habitual to them and we think of them always as brightly and serenely happy; it seems not possible for a shadow to fall across the clear purity of their minds. So we can plainly picture for ourselves her tall, slight, erect figure standing forth, and hear her gentle light-toned voice say to the women: "Set your backs against the wall and all link arms." Instantly they obeyed and stood where she had told them, looking firm and immovable though the officials outnumbered them by more than ten to one. Then there was silence, and the wardresses made no move. At last steps were heard coming from a long distance—one always hears them away off in Holloway. Gradually they came nearer and nearer until the Governor arrived. Then the Suffragette leader stepped forward. "We have sent for you," she said gravely, "because we have a statement to make. One of our comrades has been unjustly punished." "You know I am always willing to listen to your statements," the Governor replied, "but I can do nothing to-night unless you return to your cells." Then, on his promising to enquire into the whole matter, Miss Wallace-Dunlop was satisfied and she and her comrades quietly obeyed.
But, when the Governor came round the cells next morning, he ordered that every Suffragette who had been present should appear before the visiting magistrates to answer to a charge of mutiny, and on the following day, they were each sentenced to from three to five days' solitary confinement and the associated labour, about which there had always been more labour than association, as the prisoners were forbidden to communicate, was abandoned altogether. Mrs. Leigh was still deprived both of Chapel and exercise, and the others who had caught an occasional glimpse of her, as she passed to fill her water can, stated that she appeared to be suffering very greatly from this close solitary confinement.
Again on the next Saturday we marched to Holloway, carrying before us a white banner inscribed with the text of the Women's Enfranchisement Bill. There we found the police on horse and foot mustered against us a thousand strong, barring the nearest approaches to the prison so that, although we again circled it, it was at so great a distance that only once, through a gap in the surrounding buildings, could we see its walls, and we doubted whether our voices, loud and numerous as they were, could be heard by the prisoners inside.
Footnotes:
[31] By Miss F. E. M. Macaulay.