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:

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:

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.”