As Berry and I Were Saying Read Online Free PDF

half-right and half-left, so that, by the time the conversation was over, there was a thick line of women confronting the cordon of police. ‘I demand,’ said Mrs Pankhurst, ‘to be allowed to pass.’ ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Pankhurst,’ says Jarvis. ‘But you were advised that you and your supporters would not be permitted to approach the Houses of Parliament, and we are here tonight to prevent any such attempt.’ ‘You refuse to let me go by?’ ‘I’m afraid that’s so,’ says Jarvis. ‘Very well,’ says Mrs Pankhurst – and swung to the jaw. I saw her do it. She hit him a swinging blow as hard as she could. I heard her hand meet his face, and his cap fell off. One of his men picked it up, and he put it back on his head. Then he took hold of her arm. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but I shall have to take you to Cannon Row.’ She went quietly. But, as she was arrested, her followers went for the police. Screaming ‘Votes for Women’, they flung themselves at the cordon, fighting like so many beasts. It was a shocking scene, and, had I not seen it, I never would have believed that educated women could so degrade themselves. Indeed, I decline to believe that any woman, however low and vile, has ever so behaved, unless she was drunk. And these women were not drunk. Arrests were made right and left, and a constant stream of women was flowing to Cannon Row. Some fought and struggled, demanding to be ‘let alone’: others went quietly enough. Police reinforcements continually filled the gaps in the cordon, and were assailed in their turn. After about half an hour we left the scene. In that time I only saw one woman roughly used. She had been arrested and was resisting savagely. The constable who was taking her to Cannon Row, took her by the shoulders and shook her. He was immediately reproved: but he had my sympathy. The woman had laid his face open from temple to chin.”
    “My God, what with?” said my sister.
    “Her nails, my sweet.”
    Daphne covered her face.
    “Well, there we are. As you have seen, I never forgot that night. The next morning at Bow Street, nearly one hundred women were due to appear. On charges of assault and obstruction. Of such were the Militant Suffragists.
    “One or two flashes from Bow Street, where they invariably appeared.
    “The interruption to the ordinary work of the Court – or perhaps I should call it ‘the addition’ – was serious. More than once the Magistrate sat until ten o’clock at night, to try and dispose of the charges with which he was overwhelmed. And we, of course, had to be there. It wasn’t so bad for me, but Muskett was on his feet for nearly the whole of the time.
    “On one occasion the women subpoenaed the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the Home Secretary. I don’t know why they were allowed to get away with it, for neither of the Ministers was in a position to give any evidence of any kind regarding the offences with which the women were charged. But they only wanted them to serve as cock-shies. We were rather worried as to how the Home Secretary, Herbert Gladstone, would show up, for he had the reputation of being a weak and foolish man. Naturally enough, we were in no way uneasy about Lloyd George, who was the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Never were expectations so falsified. Gladstone did terribly well. He was firm and dignified, and more than one of his answers was very much to the point and made everyone laugh. But the figure Lloyd George cut was almost contemptible. His demeanour was craven, and he tried to be funny and failed – and laughed at everything he said. Nobody else did. I can’t explain this, and never met anyone who could.
    “On another occasion, the militant suffragist leaders were defended by —, QC, an Irishman. His eloquence was undoubted. Lack of material never embarrassed him. This was as well, for there were, of course, no answers to the charges of obstruction and assault. He was, I suppose, accustomed to making