Suffragette (7 page)

“That’s horrible.” I was beginning to understand the sacrifices involved in being a true suffragette. If I was faced with such horrors I am not sure that I would have the
courage to stand them.

15th June 1909

At the hospital this afternoon one of the nurses warned me that Mother’s condition is rather advanced, but she assured me that she is comfortable and they are doing
everything they can.

I sat with her for a little while but she was weak and her eyes were closed most of the time – she was dozing, I think – so I just held her hand and kept quiet.

23rd June 1909

I sat in on a thrillingly heated debate at the WSPU offices yesterday. The subject was: How to guarantee that any sentenced suffragette will serve her term as a First Division
prisoner.

“I intend to write a letter to Parliament demanding that our status as political prisoners be recognized,” announced Miss Baker. This was received by applause.

“Throughout the civilized world, male political offenders are given special status and we have the right to receive the same treatment as men,” a woman whom I had not seen before
called out.

“Yes!” a chorus of voices rejoined, including mine.

Someone suggested, and it was backed up by Mary Richardson standing near me, that the younger, stronger women should volunteer to serve the prison sentences, which are debilitating for the older
women.

“That’s a good point,” Harriet Kerr said. “We all know that Emmeline’s health is not what it was.”

I knew I should volunteer, but after all that Miss Baker had told me I felt too scared. Solitary confinement would terrify me. A few put their hands up and called out their names. I did not, and
then the moment was lost because a Scottish woman whose name is Marion – she’s a painter or sculptress, I think – hurried to the front of the room, signalled for quiet and began
to speak.

“Ladies, I think there are two issues that need to be considered here. The first is that the government’s treatment of suffrage campaigners is barbaric. Of course, we are not thieves
or murderesses. There is no question that any status given to us other than that of political prisoners is a deliberate misinterpretation of the law. We are fighting for our rights, and that is not
a crime.” There was cheering and waving from the entire room, but Marion raised her hand for hush. “Wait, wait. Because this is about much more than what status we are given as
prisoners. The fact is we shouldn’t be thrown into gaol at all.
We are legally entitled to petition
.” Marion’s speech was wildly applauded and the evening ended on a very
upbeat note.

Walking to the bus I was still asking myself whether or not I should volunteer. So far I have done little for the Cause besides sell newspapers. But if I did have to go to prison, what about my
school work? Or even worse, what if something were to happen to my mother and I wasn’t there?

24th June 1909

Marion Wallace Dunlop, the Scottish painter who spoke at the debate yesterday evening, rubber-stamped a message across one of the walls at St Stephen’s Hall in the House
of Commons this morning. The extract is from the 1689 Bill of Rights:

It is the right of the subjects to petition the King, and all commitments and prosecutions for such petitioning are illegal.

Of course, she has been arrested. But what is excellent is that she is stating a very important point. What is more, she is not alone in claiming that we have every right to protest and that we
cannot be arrested or imprisoned for the simple act of petitioning.

25th June 1909

Flora told me this morning that she is leaving for Italy at the beginning of July. She is intending to visit Florence and Venice, and expects to be away for a couple of months.
She invited me to accompany her but I declined, which surprised her.

I want to be close to my mother, I told her. Also, I feel there is too much happening here to go off travelling. This is a very important time for the Cause and I want to involve myself more
deeply. Marion Wallace Dunlop’s claim that it is our right as citizens to be allowed to protest is being taken up as a legal battle among the suffragettes. If the Cause wins this point, none
of us can ever again be imprisoned for demonstrating for our rights.

I would certainly feel less guilty then about the fact that I have not volunteered for anything more dangerous than office work or newspaper-selling. And I thought I was brave!

30th June 1909

Marion has been sentenced to serve a month in Holloway Prison on a charge of wilful damage. She has been classed as a Second Division prisoner but is fighting against such
treatment and insisting that she be moved to the First Division. The request has been refused by Mr Herbert Gladstone, the Home Secretary.

A letter from the school in north London arrived today. Flora said that they have not accepted me. No reason was given.

“Don’t be disappointed. There’s still St Paul’s,” she said. “If not, we’ll try others. And Miss Baker will continue to tutor you until you are
settled.”

Lord, I feel a real failure.

5th July 1909

Something quite extraordinary and unforeseen has happened. Marion Wallace Dunlop has thrown away the food that has been brought to her and decided on a hunger strike. This is
her own idea. No one at the WSPU knew a thing about it. Several members spoke of the dangers to her health when the news reached us, but most of us saw it as an act of real courage and daring.

The prison authorities are threatening to force-feed her through her nostrils with a liquid mixture of egg and milk. Ugh, how disgusting!

6th July 1909

Miss Baker told me that the wardresses have been leaving trays of food in Marion’s cell in the hope that she will weaken and break her fast. So far she has stood firm. We
are all keeping our fingers crossed that Mr Asquith will relent and improve her prison status.

Flora set off on her travels this morning. I was really sad to see her go. I hugged her tightly and thanked her for allowing me to remain on here, and for all her many kindnesses to me and to my
mother, who has grown a little stronger these last few days. When I visited her this afternoon she was quite chirpy and talked about going home soon. I pray it won’t be too long before she is
allowed to leave the hospital, but I hate the idea of her returning to the East End.

When I arrived back at the house, it felt so empty. I wandered about from room to room, not knowing what to do with myself. Then I sat on the sofa with the two cats at my side and read
A
Midsummer Night’s Dream
– Miss Baker is going to set me an exam on Shakespeare.

I have promised myself to use these weeks fruitfully, to work hard at my studies and prepare myself well for whichever new school takes me.

9th July 1909

Marion has been released! After 91 hours of fasting, almost four days, the Home Secretary has set her free.

Emmeline Pankhurst, who is away, travelling from one corner of Britain to the next, talking to groups, at societies, and raising the profile of the Cause, has stated that this act of
Marion’s has lifted “our militant movement on to a higher and more heroic plane”.

I am so proud to be a member of the Union.

When I popped into the hospital to see Mother I was dying to tell her some of the WSPU news and all that is happening to me, but two of my brothers were there with their wives and children and
Mother looked tired and weak again. So I only stayed a while and came home.

I feel very distanced from my family and I suspect my brothers resent me. I know my oldest brother’s wife, Clara, does. I can tell by the way she looks at me. And one of my nephews, Henry
junior, said to me, “You talk funny.”

20th July 1909

Talk at the WSPU offices today was that Marion’s example has been followed by other imprisoned suffragettes. Fourteen women who were convicted of stone-throwing on 12th
July have taken up her baton. When their request to Mr Gladstone to be transferred to the First Division was turned down, they refused to wear their prison clothes or to clean up their cells. They
have broken windows to get fresh air and the prison authorities have responded by throwing them into punishment cells for their disobedience.

“We are political prisoners and you are treating us like common criminals,” was the women’s response. They have all decided to go on hunger strike.

26th July 1909

The women have been released.

This is being hailed as a triumph for our cause because although the authorities threatened forcible feeding they have not carried out the threat. The general consensus seems to be that they do
not dare because it would be barbaric and illegal, and would cause public anger.

I received a letter from Flora this morning. It was sent from Paris. She has been staying for a few days with Alice Guy on her way south. Flora sounded very happy about a scheme she and Alice
have for directing a film together. I wonder if this means that she will be away longer than she originally intended. I hope not. I miss her and I want to talk to her about my mother’s
future.

A letter also arrived from St Paul’s in Hammersmith, addressed to Flora. I am
dying
to know what it says.

14 August 1909

After lunch, I took the bus to St Thomas’s and went to visit my mother. She was very pale, but although still frail she looked a little plumper. She coughs incessantly,
but tries her best to make light of her pains in front of me. I think I am rather bad at hiding my feelings; and she senses how upset I get.

We talked of when she leaves the hospital. I suggested finding her a little flat near to Flora. “We’d share it,” I promised, but she flatly refuses to move from that horrid
damp cottage. How stubborn she is and how frustrated it makes me. But I must be positive. It is wonderful to see her growing stronger and to know that she is going to get better and that somehow or
other we will work the other problems out.

20th August 1909

It is now illegal for women to attend public gatherings, particularly those events organized by or involving the Liberal party. The government is embarrassed by the heckling
they are receiving.

As a protest, a group of us, including Mary Richardson and Miss Baker, hid in the bushes last night outside a hall in Kentish Town where a Liberal meeting was assembling. While the hall was
filling up we tried to make our way inside, but we were forced back out on to the street. So we remained outside, shouting, “Votes for Women!”

“Why don’t you treat imprisoned suffragettes as political prisoners?’’ I called nervously. My heart was beating fast. I’ve never heckled before.

Mary followed with, “Put your Liberal principles into practice.”

“Justice, and the vote for women!” That was me again. I was beginning to gain confidence.

“Give us the vote and we’ll go home,” yelled Miss Baker. What a booming voice she has!

People in the hall turned their heads in horror. “Get those blasted women away from here!” A short, bald-headed chap instructed as the doors were closed in our faces. We tried one
more time to get in by beating our fists against the doors, but we had no luck. We hung about outside in the street, shouting and kicking up a racket, until eventually, hoarse and hungry, we took a
bus back into town and went for soup and ice cream and cake at Mary’s. All of us were laughing, buoyed and exhilarated by what we had done. It felt so daring.

21st August 1909

Mr Asquith, the Prime Minister, was interrupted during his speech in Liverpool last night. To protest against the bar on women at public meetings, a few suffragettes broke
windows and threw stones. They were arrested.

At the office this afternoon, Mary Richardson said to me, “Next time, we’ll break a window or two. It’s what we should have done last night, eh?”

I shrugged, but I’m not sure I’d dare go that far.

1st September 1909

Flora is back, looking radiant. It was wonderful to see her.

“How’s your mother?” she asked me during dinner.

“They say she’ll be coming out of hospital very soon,” I replied.

“That’s wonderful news, but you don’t look very happy about it, Dollie.”

“I don’t want her to go back to our old home,” I said. “She’ll only get sick again.” But I refused to discuss the subject further. I fear Flora will think
that I am angling for more assistance, which I am not.

2nd September 1909

Miss Baker was taking me through her corrections on a Charles Dickens essay she had set when Flora came bursting into the living room waving a letter.

“Forgive me for butting in, but this was among my pile of post. It is from St Paul’s. You’ve been granted a place. Well done! Their new year begins on 10th September, which
means that we have a mountain of things to organize.”

Gosh, school. I have enjoyed all these free days and was beginning to hope that it would never happen.

10th September 1909

It feels so strange to be back in a classroom. I have grown used to a life in London that does not include uniforms, morning assemblies, chapel and structured timetables and I
don’t like being back in the system one bit. I would far rather Miss Baker continued to tutor me, but I daren’t say so to Flora who has gone to such lengths to get me here. We seem to
have done nothing but traipse round the shops buying clothes and sportswear and pens and books.

I am one of two new girls. The others in my class have all been here for several years. I am reminded of my first days at Cheltenham Ladies’ College and how out of place I felt. Once
again, I appear to be the only girl from a working-class background. Of course, no one knows my history because my address is Flora’s and my school records are from Cheltenham, but it still
makes me feel awkward.

I really MUST NOT be so negative. I dream of being a journalist and of helping my mother. Without a decent education I will have no chance, so I’d better make the best of it. And once I
have made some friends, it will be different.

18th September 1909

I was going through my things last night and came across my suffrage scrapbook. I haven’t looked at it since moving to London. It seems sort of quaint to me now that I
actually know some of the women involved in the struggle. I shall take it to school and work on it as a modern history project – it will help me feel less distanced from the movement.