CHAPTER III

In the summer of 1902--I think it was 1902--Susan B. Anthony paid a

visit to Manchester, and that visit was one of the contributory causes

that led to the founding of our militant suffrage organisation, the

Women's Social and Political Union. During Miss Anthony's visit my

daughter Christabel, who was very deeply impressed, wrote an article for

the Manchester papers on the life and works of the venerable reformer.

After her departure Christabel spoke often of her, and always with

sorrow and indignation that such a splendid worker for humanity was

destined to die without seeing the hopes of her lifetime realised. "It

is unendurable," declared my daughter, "to think of another generation

of women wasting their lives begging for the vote. We must not lose any

more time. We must act."

By this time the Labour Party, of which I was still a member, had

returned Mr. Keir Hardie to Parliament, and we decided that the first

step in a campaign of action was to make the Labour Party responsible

for a new suffrage bill. At a recent annual conference of the party I

had moved a resolution calling upon the members to instruct their own

member of Parliament to introduce a bill for the enfranchisement of

women. The resolution was passed, and we determined to organise a

society of women to demand immediate enfranchisement, not by means of

any outworn missionary methods, but through political action.

It was in October, 1903, that I invited a number of women to my house in

Nelson street, Manchester, for purposes of organisation. We voted to

call our new society the Women's Social and Political Union, partly to

emphasise its democracy, and partly to define its object as political

rather than propagandist. We resolved to limit our membership

exclusively to women, to keep ourselves absolutely free from any party

affiliation, and to be satisfied with nothing but action on our

question. Deeds, not words, was to be our permanent motto.

To such a pass had the women's suffrage cause come in my country that

the old leaders, who had done such fine educational work in the past,

were now seemingly content with expressions of sympathy and regret on

the part of hypocritical politicians. This fact was thrust upon me anew

by an incident that occurred almost at the moment of the founding of the

Women's Social and Political Union. In our Parliament no bill has a

chance of becoming a law unless it is made a Government measure. Private

members are at liberty to introduce measures of their own, but these

rarely reach the second reading, or debatable stage. So much time is

given to discussion of Government measures that very little time can be

given to any private bills. About one day in a week is given over to

consideration of private measures, to which, as we say, the Government

give facilities; and since there are a limited number of weeks in a

session, the members, on the opening days of Parliament, meet and draw

lots to determine who shall have a place in the debates. Only these

successful men have a chance to speak to their bills, and only those who

have drawn early chances have any prospect of getting much discussion on

their measures.

Now, the old suffragists had long since given up hope of obtaining a

Government suffrage bill, but they clung to a hope that a private

member's bill would some time obtain consideration. Every year, on the

opening day of Parliament, the association sent a deputation of women to

the House of Commons, to meet so-called friendly members and consider

the position of the women's suffrage cause. The ceremony was of a most

conventional, not to say farcical character. The ladies made their

speeches and the members made theirs. The ladies thanked the friendly

members for their sympathy, and the members renewed their assurances

that they believed in women's suffrage and would vote for it when they

had an opportunity to do so. Then the deputation, a trifle sad but

entirely tranquil, took its departure, and the members resumed the real

business of life, which was support of their party's policies.

Such a ceremony as this I attended soon after the founding of the

W. S. P. U. Sir Charles M'Laren was the friendly member who presided

over the gathering, and he did his full duty in the matter of formally

endorsing the cause of women's suffrage. He assured the delegation of

his deep regret, as well as the regret of numbers of his colleagues,

that women so intelligent, so devoted, etc., should remain

unenfranchised. Other members did likewise. The ceremonies drew to a

close, but I, who had not been asked to speak, determined to add

something to the occasion.

"Sir Charles M'Laren," I began abruptly, "has told us that numbers of

his colleagues desire the success of the women's suffrage cause. Now

every one of us knows that at this moment the members of the House of

Commons are balloting for a place in the debates. Will Sir Charles

M'Laren tell us if any member is preparing to introduce a bill for

women's suffrage? Will he tell us what he and the other members will

pledge themselves to _do_ for the reform they so warmly endorse?"

Of course, the embarrassed Sir Charles was not prepared to tell us

anything of the kind, and the deputation departed in confusion and

wrath. I was told that I was an interloper, an impertinent intruder. Who

asked me to say anything? And what right had I to step in and ruin the

good impression they had made? No one could tell how many friendly

members I had alienated by my unfortunate remarks.

I went back to Manchester and with renewed energy continued the work of

organising for the W. S. P. U.

In the spring of 1904 I went to the annual conference of the Independent

Labour Party, determined if possible to induce the members to prepare a

suffrage bill to be laid before Parliament in the approaching session.

Although I was a member of the National Administrative Council and

presumably a person holding some influence in the party, I knew that my

plan would be bitterly opposed by a strong minority, who held that the

Labour Party should direct all its efforts toward securing universal

adult suffrage for both men and women. Theoretically, of course, a

Labour party could not be satisfied with anything less than universal

adult suffrage, but it was clear that no such sweeping reform could be

effected at that time, unless indeed the Government made it one of their

measures. Besides, while a large majority of members of the House of

Commons were pledged to support a bill giving women equal franchise

rights with men, it was doubtful whether a majority could be relied upon

to support a bill giving adult suffrage, even to men. Such a bill, even

if it were a Government measure, would probably be difficult of passage.

After considerable discussion, the National Council decided to adopt the

original Women's Enfranchisement Bill, drafted by Dr. Pankhurst, and

advanced in 1870 to its second reading in the House of Commons. The

Council's decision was approved by an overwhelming majority of the

conference.

The new session of Parliament, so eagerly looked forward to, met on

February 13, 1905. I went down from Manchester, and with my daughter

Sylvia, then a student at the Royal College of Art, South Kensington,

spent eight days in the Strangers' Lobby of the House of Commons,

working for the suffrage bill. We interviewed every one of the members

who had pledged themselves to support a suffrage bill when it should be

introduced, but we found not one single member who would agree that his

chance in the ballot, if he drew such a chance, should be given to

introducing the bill. Every man had some other measure he was anxious to

further. Mr. Keir Hardie had previously given us his pledge, but his

name, as we had feared, was not drawn in the ballot. We next set out to

interview all the men whose names had been drawn, and we finally induced

Mr. Bamford Slack, who held the fourteenth place, to introduce our bill.

The fourteenth place was not a good one, but it served, and the second

reading of our bill was set down for Friday, May 12th, the second order

of the day.

This being the first suffrage bill in eight years, a thrill of

excitement animated not only our ranks but all the old suffrage

societies. Meetings were held, and a large number of petitions

circulated. When the day came for consideration on our bill, the

Strangers' Lobby could not hold the enormous gathering of women of all

classes, rich and poor, who flocked to the House of Commons. It was

pitiful to see the look of hope and joy that shone on the faces of many

of these women. We knew that our poor little measure had the very

slightest chance of being passed. The bill that occupied the first order

of the day was one providing that carts travelling along public roads at

night should carry a light behind as well as before. We had tried to

induce the promoters of this unimportant little measure to withdraw it

in the interests of our bill, but they refused. We had tried also to

persuade the Conservative Government to give our bill facilities for

full discussion, but they also refused. So, as we fully anticipated,

the promoters of the Roadway Lighting Bill were allowed to "talk out"

our bill. They did this by spinning out the debate with silly stories

and foolish jokes. The members listened to the insulting performance

with laughter and applause.

When news of what was happening reached the women who waited in the

Strangers' Lobby, a feeling of wild excitement and indignation took

possession of the throng. Seeing their temper, I felt that the moment

had come for a demonstration such as no old-fashioned suffragist had

ever attempted. I called upon the women to follow me outside for a

meeting of protest against the government. We swarmed out into the open,

and Mrs. Wolstenholm-Elmy, one of the oldest suffrage workers in

England, began to speak. Instantly the police rushed into the crowd of

women, pushing them about and ordering them to disperse. We moved on as

far as the great statue of Richard Coeur de Lion that guards the

entrance to the House of Lords, but again the police intervened. Finally

the police agreed to let us hold a meeting in Broad Sanctuary, very near

the gates of Westminster Abbey. Here we made speeches and adopted a

resolution condemning the Government's action in allowing a small

minority to talk out our bill. This was the first militant act of the

W. S. P. U. It caused comment and even some alarm, but the police

contented themselves with taking our names.

The ensuing summer was spent in outdoor work. By this time the Women's

Social and Political Union had acquired some valuable accessions, and

money began to come to us. Among our new members was one who was

destined to play an important role in the unfolding drama of the

militant movement. At the close of one of our meetings at Oldham a young

girl introduced herself to me as Annie Kenney, a mill-worker, and a

strong suffrage sympathiser. She wanted to know more of our society and

its objects, and I invited her and her sister Jenny, a Board School

teacher, to tea the next day. They came and joined our Union, a step

that definitely changed the whole course of Miss Kenney's life, and gave

us one of our most distinguished leaders and organisers. With her help

we began to carry our propaganda to an entirely new public.

In Lancashire there is an institution known as the Wakes, a sort of

travelling fair where they have merry-go-rounds, Aunt-Sallies, and other

festive games, side-shows of various kinds, and booths where all kinds

of things are sold. Every little village has its Wakes-week during the

summer and autumn, and it is the custom for the inhabitants of the

villages to spend the Sunday before the opening of the Wakes walking

among the booths in anticipation of tomorrow's joys. On these occasions

the Salvation Army, temperance orators, venders of quack medicines,

pedlars, and others, take advantage of the ready-made audience to

advance their propaganda. At Annie Kenney's suggestion we went from one

village to the other, following the Wakes and making suffrage speeches.

We soon rivalled in popularity the Salvation Army, and even the

tooth-drawers and patent-medicine pedlars.

The Women's Social and Political Union had been in existence two years

before any opportunity was presented for work on a national scale. The

autumn of 1905 brought a political situation which seemed to us to

promise bright hopes for women's enfranchisement. The life of the old

Parliament, dominated for nearly twenty years by the Conservative Party,

was drawing to an end, and the country was on the eve of a general

election in which the Liberals hoped to be returned to power. Quite

naturally the Liberal candidates went to the country with perfervid

promises of reform in every possible direction. They appealed to the

voters to return them, as advocates and upholders of true democracy, and

they promised that there should be a Government united in favour of

people's rights against the powers of a privileged aristocracy.

Now repeated experiences had taught us that the only way to attain

women's suffrage was to commit a Government to it. In other words,

pledges of support from candidates were plainly useless. They were not

worth having. The only object worth trying for was pledges from

responsible leaders that the new Government would make women's suffrage

a part of the official programme. We determined to address ourselves to

those men who were likely to be in the Liberal Cabinet, demanding to

know whether their reforms were going to include justice to women.

We laid our plans to begin this work at a great meeting to be held in

Free Trade Hall, Manchester, with Sir Edward Grey as the principal

speaker. We intended to get seats in the gallery, directly facing the

platform and we made for the occasion a large banner with the words:

"Will the Liberal Party Give Votes for Women?" We were to let this

banner down over the gallery rails at the moment when our speaker rose

to put the question to Sir Edward Grey. At the last moment, however, we

had to alter the plan because it was impossible to get the gallery seats

we wanted. There was no way in which we could use our large banner, so,

late in the afternoon on the day of the meeting, we cut out and made a

small banner with the three-word inscription: "Votes for Women." Thus,

quite accidentally, there came into existence the present slogan of the

suffrage movement around the world.

Annie Kenney and my daughter Christabel were charged with the mission of

questioning Sir Edward Grey. They sat quietly through the meeting, at

the close of which questions were invited. Several questions were asked

by men and were courteously answered. Then Annie Kenney arose and asked:

"If the Liberal party is returned to power, will they take steps to give

votes for women?" At the same time Christabel held aloft the little

banner that every one in the hall might understand the nature of the

question. Sir Edward Grey returned no answer to Annie's question, and

the men sitting near her forced her rudely into her seat, while a

steward of the meeting pressed his hat over her face. A babel of

shouts, cries and catcalls sounded from all over the hall.

As soon as order was restored Christabel stood up and repeated the

question: "Will the Liberal Government, if returned, give votes to

women?" Again Sir Edward Grey ignored the question, and again a perfect

tumult of shouts and angry cries arose. Mr. William Peacock, chief

constable of Manchester, left the platform and came down to the women,

asking them to write their question, which he promised to hand to the

speaker. They wrote: "Will the Liberal Government give votes to

working-women? Signed, on behalf of the Women's Social and Political

Union, Annie Kenney, member of the Oldham committee of the card-and

blowing-room operatives." They added a line to say that, as one of

96,000 organised women textile-workers, Annie Kenney earnestly desired

an answer to the question.

Mr. Peacock kept his word and handed the question to Sir Edward Grey,

who read it, smiled, and passed it to the others on the platform. They

also read it with smiles, but no answer to the question was made. Only

one lady who was sitting on the platform tried to say something, but the

chairman interrupted by asking Lord Durham to move a vote of thanks to

the speaker. Mr. Winston Churchill seconded the motion, Sir Edward Grey

replied briefly, and the meeting began to break up. Annie Kenney stood

up in her chair and cried out over the noise of shuffling feet and

murmurs of conversation: "Will the Liberal Government give votes to

women?" Then the audience became a mob. They howled, they shouted and

roared, shaking their fists fiercely at the woman who dared to intrude

her question into a man's meeting. Hands were lifted to drag her out of

her chair, but Christabel threw one arm about her as she stood, and with

the other arm warded off the mob, who struck and scratched at her until

her sleeve was red with blood. Still the girls held together and shouted

over and over: "The question! The question! Answer the question!"

Six men, stewards of the meeting, seized Christabel and dragged her down

the aisle, past the platform, other men following with Annie Kenney,

both girls still calling for an answer to their question. On the

platform the Liberal leaders sat silent and unmoved while this

disgraceful scene was taking place, and the mob were shouting and

shrieking from the floor.

Flung into the streets, the two girls staggered to their feet and began

to address the crowds, and to tell them what had taken place in a

Liberal meeting. Within five minutes they were arrested on a charge of

obstruction and, in Christabel's case, of assaulting the police. Both

were summonsed to appear next morning in a police court, where, after a

trial which was a mere farce, Annie Kenney was sentenced to pay a fine

of five shillings, with an alternative of three days in prison, and

Christabel Pankhurst was given a fine of ten shillings or a jail

sentence of one week.

Both girls promptly chose the prison sentence. As soon as they left the

court-room I hurried around to the room where they were waiting, and I

said to my daughter: "You have done everything you could be expected to

do in this matter. I think you should let me pay your fines and take you

home." Without waiting for Annie Kenney to speak, my daughter exclaimed:

"Mother, if you pay my fine I will never go home." Before going to the

meeting she had said, "We will get our question answered or sleep in

prison to-night." I now knew her courage remained unshaken.

Of course the affair created a tremendous sensation, not only in

Manchester, where my husband had been so well known and where I had so

long held public office, but all over England. The comments of the press

were almost unanimously bitter. Ignoring the perfectly well-established

fact that men in every political meeting ask questions and demand

answers of the speakers, the newspapers treated the action of the two

girls as something quite unprecedented and outrageous. They generally

agreed that great leniency had been shown them. Fines and jail-sentences

were too good for such unsexed creatures. "The discipline of the

nursery" would have been far more appropriate. One Birmingham paper

declared that "if any argument were required against giving ladies

political status and power it had been furnished in Manchester."

Newspapers which had heretofore ignored the whole subject now hinted

that while they had formerly been in favour of women's suffrage, they

could no longer countenance it. The Manchester incident, it was said,

had set the cause back, perhaps irrevocably.

This is how it set the cause back. Scores of people wrote to the

newspapers expressing sympathy with the women. The wife of Sir Edward

Grey told her friends that she considered them quite justified in the

means they had taken. It was stated that Winston Churchill, nervous

about his own candidacy in Manchester, visited Strangeways Gaol, where

the two girls were imprisoned, and vainly begged the governor to allow

him to pay their fines. On October 20, when the prisoners were released,

they were given an immense demonstration in Free-Trade Hall, the very

hall from which they had been ejected the week before. The Women's

Social and Political Union received a large number of new members. Above

all, the question of women's suffrage became at once a live topic of

comment from one end of Great Britain to the other.

We determined that from that time on the little "Votes For Women"

banners should appear wherever a prospective member of the Liberal

Government rose to speak, and that there should be no more peace until

the women's question was answered. We clearly perceived that the new

Government, calling themselves Liberal, were reactionary so far as women

were concerned, that they were hostile to women's suffrage, and would

have to be fought until they were conquered, or else driven from office.

We did not begin to fight, however, until we had given the new

Government every chance to give us the pledge we wanted. Early in

December the Conservative Government had gone out, and Sir Henry

Campbell-Bannerman, the Liberal leader, had formed a new Cabinet. On

December 21 a great meeting was held in Royal Albert Hall, London, where

Sir Henry, surrounded by his cabinet, made his first utterance as Prime

Minister. Previous to the meeting we wrote to Sir Henry and asked him,

in the name of the Women's Social and Political Union, whether the

Liberal Government would give women the vote. We added that our

representatives would be present at the meeting, and we hoped that the

Prime Minister would publicly answer the question. Otherwise we should

be obliged publicly to protest against his silence.

Of course Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman returned no reply, nor did his

speech contain any allusion to women's suffrage. So, at the conclusion,

Annie Kenney, whom we had smuggled into the hall in disguise, whipped

out her little white calico banner, and called out in her clear, sweet

voice: "Will the Liberal Government give women the vote?"

At the same moment Theresa Billington let drop from a seat directly

above the platform a huge banner with the words: "Will the Liberal

Government give justice to working-women?" Just for a moment there was a

gasping silence, the people waiting to see what the Cabinet Ministers

would do. They did nothing. Then, in the midst of uproar and conflicting

shouts, the women were seized and flung out of the hall.

This was the beginning of a campaign the like of which was never known

in England, or, for that matter, in any other country. If we had been

strong enough we should have opposed the election of every Liberal

candidate, but being limited both in funds and in members we

concentrated on one member of the Government, Mr. Winston Churchill. Not

that we had any animus against Mr. Churchill. We chose him simply

because he was the only important candidate standing for constituencies

within reach of our headquarters. We attended every meeting addressed by

Mr. Churchill. We heckled him unmercifully; we spoiled his best points

by flinging back such obvious retorts that the crowds roared with

laughter. We lifted out little white banners from unexpected corners of

the hall, exactly at the moment when an interruption was least desired.

Sometimes our banners were torn from our hands and trodden under foot.

Sometimes, again, the crowds were with us, and we actually broke up the

meeting. We did not succeed in defeating Mr. Churchill, but he was

returned by a very small majority, the smallest of any of the Manchester

Liberal candidates.

We did not confine our efforts to heckling Mr. Churchill. Throughout the

campaign we kept up the work of questioning Cabinet Ministers at

meetings all over England and Scotland. At Sun Hall, Liverpool,

addressed by the Prime Minister, nine women in succession asked the

important question, and were thrown out of the hall; this in the face of

the fact that Sir Campbell-Bannerman was an avowed suffragist. But we

were not questioning him as to his private opinions on the suffrage; we

were asking him what his Government were willing to do about suffrage.

We questioned Mr. Asquith in Sheffield, Mr. Lloyd-George in Altrincham,

Cheshire, the Prime Minister again in Glasgow, and we interrupted a

great many other meetings as well. Always we were violently thrown out

and insulted. Often we were painfully bruised and hurt.

What good did it do? We have often been asked that question, even by the

women our actions spurred into an activity they had never before thought

themselves capable of. For one thing, our heckling campaign made women's

suffrage a matter of news--it had never been that before. Now the

newspapers were full of us. For another thing, we woke up the old

suffrage associations. During the general election various groups of

non-militant suffragists came back to life and organised a gigantic

manifesto in favour of action from the Liberal Government. Among others,

the manifesto was signed by the Women's Co-operative Guild with nearly

21,000 members; the Women's Liberal Federation, with 76,000 members; the

Scottish Women's Liberal Federation, with 15,000 members; the

North-of-England Weavers' Association, with 100,000 members; the British

Women's Temperance Association, with nearly 110,000 members; and the

Independent Labour Party with 20,000 members. Surely it was something to

have inspired all this activity.

We decided that the next step must be to carry the fight to London, and

Annie Kenney was chosen to be organiser there. With only two pounds,

less than ten dollars, in her pocket the intrepid girl set forth on her

mission. In about a fortnight I left my official work as registrar in

the hands of a deputy and went down to London to see what had been

accomplished. To my astonishment I found that Annie, working with my

daughter Sylvia, had organised a procession of women and a demonstration

to be held on the opening day of Parliament. The confident young things

had actually engaged Caxton Hall, Westminster; they had had printed a

large number of handbills to announce the meeting, and they were busily

engaged in working up the demonstration. Mrs. Drummond, who had joined

the Union shortly after the imprisonment of Annie Kenney and Christabel,

sent word from Manchester that she was coming to help us. She had to

borrow the money for her railroad-fare, but she came, and, as ever

before and since, her help was invaluable.

How we worked, distributing handbills, chalking announcements of the

meeting on pavements, calling on every person we knew and on a great

many more we knew only by name, canvassing from door to door!

At length the opening day of Parliament arrived. On February 19, 1906,

occurred the first suffrage procession in London. I think there were

between three and four hundred women in that procession, poor

working-women from the East End, for the most part, leading the way in

which numberless women of every rank were afterward to follow. My eyes

were misty with tears as I saw them, standing in line, holding the

simple banners which my daughter Sylvia had decorated, waiting for the

word of command. Of course our procession attracted a large crowd of

intensely amused spectators. The police, however, made no attempt to

disperse our ranks, but merely ordered us to furl our banners. There

was no reason why we should not have carried banners but the fact that

we were women, and therefore could be bullied. So, bannerless, the

procession entered Caxton Hall. To my amazement it was filled with

women, most of whom I had never seen at any suffrage gathering before.

Our meeting was most enthusiastic, and while Annie Kenney was speaking,

to frequent applause, the news came to me that the King's speech (which

is not the King's at all, but the formally announced Government

programme for the session) had been read, and that there was in it no

mention of the women's suffrage question. As Annie took her seat I arose

and made this announcement, and I moved a resolution that the meeting

should at once proceed to the House of Commons to urge the members to

introduce a suffrage measure. The resolution was carried, and we rushed

out in a body and hurried toward the Strangers' Entrance. It was pouring

rain and bitterly cold, yet no one turned back, even when we learned at

the entrance that for the first time in memory the doors of the House of

Commons were barred to women. We sent in our cards to members who were

personal friends, and some of them came out and urged our admittance.

The police, however, were obdurate. They had their orders. The Liberal

government, advocates of the people's rights, had given orders that

women should no longer set foot in their stronghold.

Pressure from members proved too great, and the government relented to

the extent of allowing twenty women at a time to enter the lobby.

Through all the rain and cold those hundreds of women waited for hours

their turn to enter. Some never got in, and for those of us who did

there was small satisfaction. Not a member could be persuaded to take up

our cause.

Out of the disappointment and dejection of that experience I yet reaped

a richer harvest of happiness than I had ever known before. Those women

had followed me to the House of Commons. They had defied the police.

They were awake at last. They were prepared to do something that women

had never done before--fight for themselves. Women had always fought for

men, and for their children. Now they were ready to fight for their own

human rights. Our militant movement was established.