February 4th, 1909

While I was out this morning doing some shopping, I met a Suffragette! It is the first time that I have seen one, owing to the fact that I have been living abroad; but, of course, I have read about them in the papers. This one was not one bit like what I should have expected.

Obviously a lady, and most becomingly dressed in a white costume with a green hat, and wearing a large bunch of violets at her waist, she was standing at a corner of the street in the busiest part of the town endeavouring to sell papers to the passers-by.

“She’s a Suffragette,” said a small boy beside me, in tones of contemptuous scorn, to a still smaller companion.

There was a slight drizzle of rain, and I noticed that most of the people to whom she offered the paper brushed it angrily on one side and walked on. Being greatly impressed by her cheerful indifference alike to the state of the weather and the attitude of the public, and marvelling much that any woman should have so much moral courage, I paused for a moment to look at her.

Instantly she walked up to me. “You are wearing our colours,” she said, smiling; “Are you interested in our Cause”

I happened to have on a green coat and skirt with a white blouse and a purple motor scarf.

“What are your colours?” I asked.

“White, Purple, and Green. They stand for purity, courage, and faith.”

“I did not know,” I replied; “and I am not particularly interested in the Cause. However, I am extremely interested in you. I want to know why you are doing this. I would not be in your place for thousands of pounds.”

The Suffragette laughed. “Will you buy one of our papers?” she suggested. “When you have read it you will understand why. Later on perhaps you will be doing it yourself.”

…

February 8th.

Immediately after breakfast, this morning I went to the Suffragette’s committee-room. They have taken a shop in the central part of the town, and decorated it beautifully with purple, white, and green flags. On a counter I saw piles of leaflets, pamphlets and Suffragette literature, also very pretty little brooches in the colours, one of which I bought and intend always to wear.

The organiser was there, busily arranging the leaflets, and apparently quite oblivious of the fact that a crowd of small boys kept opening the door and throwing things in. She looked up to ask me if I would take a bundle of the pamphlets and distribute them to passers-by in the street. I promised that I would, but asked her first if she would explain to me clearly what the militant methods consisted in, as I felt a little ignorant about it, and might be questioned.

She did so in a very few words.

“(1) We go in deputations to the Prime Minister. Men do so constantly, and are received; but in every case where women go, they are refused, and when they persist, are arrested.

“(2) We interrupt Cabinet Ministers’ speeches by asking for an answer to our question. This policy was started because in the first place two girls asked this question most constitutionally in question time and were thrown out of the hall. It seems to me obvious that when our petitions are overlooked and our deputations not received, the only possible thing left for us to do is to ask our question at a public meeting. When one reflects further that men constantly heckle and interrupt political speeches with impunity, although the constitutional weapon of the vote is not denied to them, one begins to realise the importance of securing political power.

“(3) We work against the Government at by-elections. This serves a double purpose: that of reducing the enormous majority of the Liberals, and at the same time of educating the people to the real meaning of this agitation.

“Two more questions I want to ask you” I said, “and then I will go out and distribute these leaflets. (1) Have any of the women thrown stones, thus endangering life? (2) Why did two Suffragettes chain themselves to railings?”

The organiser smiled. “The reason that the women chained themselves to the railing was in order to be heard when they made their protest. Finding that as soon as they began to speak they were seized and roughly thrown out of the hall, they determined that when next they spoke the audience would have a chance of hearing what it was they were asking for. Accordingly, they took chains which they passed round their waists and through the railings, and having padlocked them, the stewards were unable for some time to release them. The women did this at very great risk to themselves, but in the short time thus gained, they made a most effective protest and converted a considerable number of people to the cause. As regards your other question, two girls did throw stones once. They were young, and carried away by the injustice and insolence of Mr. Asquith’s attitude towards Woman’s Suffrage, they threw two stones at the kitchen window of his house in Downing Street, as a political protest. They were careful to hurt no one, and the sentence they got was two months in the second division, without the option of a fine; yet for days afterwards women kept coming to us saying they wished to resign their membership on account of the fact that violence was being resorted to! That is what the Government is relying on” she added, thoughtfully, “that women, as a whole, are so opposed to violence.”

Having satisfied myself on these points, I collected my bundle of papers and went out, not without many misgivings. As I stepped into the street an interested crowd surrounded me.

“Here you are, Miss, here’s a young man what will vote for you,” called out a boy; while others shouted: “Here’s a Suffragette! Votes for Women!”

The first man to whom I handed a leaflet tore it in pieces and threw it on the ground at my feet. I shall always be grateful to him for having done that. It was just what I needed to give me courage. Instantly all sense of nervousness left me, and I was conscious only of a feeling of indignation that any man should dare thus to treat the question of women desiring to be counted as citizens. I walked on, handing the papers to everyone I met; occasionally stopping to discuss the subject or to defend the methods. On the whole, though trying to the nerves, it is interesting work, and as an opportunity for studying types of humanity almost unique.

One man came up to say that he thought we were very brave to fight for the vote as we were doing, and that he admired our pluck. I did not mention that one week ago I had not even met a Suffragette.

When I had finally disposed of all my literature, I returned to the committee room, where I found several women discussing the work for next day. I have volunteered my services for three hours tomorrow. I am not exactly looking forward to it, but one must do something.

February 11th.

Thank goodness, there are only two more days before the polling takes place. Not that I mind this work nearly so much now, but it is very tiring, and the weather has been horrible. Besides distributing the leaflets in various localities, I have assisted at several open-air meetings. This is what happens: The speaker arranges to hold a meeting in some convenient place for working men, either outside a factory or distillery, during their dinner hour or out in the street, in the evening.

She hires a lorry to serve as a platform, and hitherto my part in the programme has consisted in accompanying her to the place and walking about among the crowd, handing leaflets, selling the Votes for Women paper, and discussing the subject with questioners. It is quite wonderful how the attitude of the public has altered within the last few days, since the open-air meetings began. Crowds of interested men surround the lorry, listening attentively, and asking intelligent questions. Instead of telling us to go home and look after the baby, they now ask whether we will vote Tory, whether working women will get the vote, and so on.

It is a little difficult to make them understand why we oppose the Liberal candidate, irrespective of his views with regard to women’s suffrage. One man called out: “You should be working for the Tory this time, miss; he’s in favour of votes for women, and the Liberal isn’t. You don’t know what you are doing.” It takes them some time to grasp how little the pledges of private Members count as against the opposition of the Government to which they belong, and that our fight is against the Government in power until we are enfranchised, and not a party question at all.

“Look here, miss,” said one loafer, addressing me; “if we gives you this vote, what are you going to do for us?” One would have supposed from his tone that the vote was a thing he had in his pocket, and could hand to me if I made it worth his while.

“When we get the vote,” I replied, “we shall do as much for you as you are doing for us now; we shall look after ourselves.”

“You can do that well enough without the vote, it seems to me,” put in a man, who had strolled up.” You have plenty of indirect influence.”

“Which would you rather have, direct or indirect influence?” I asked.

“Direct, of course,” he replied, promptly.

“Well, so would I.”

“Women are different,” he explained, and I think he felt that he had logically settled the question.

…

April 7^th

At last I have chalked pavements! It is wonderful how, in this Movement, one gradually keeps on doing a little more. I daresay I shall heckle a Cabinet Minister before I have finished.

Yesterday, I went with two others by train to a neighbouring town to do what they call pioneer work. Having provided ourselves with some chalk and a good supply of Suffragette literature, we met at the station and started our journey in very good spirits, if with some inward misgivings. On arrival at our destination, we proceeded to chalk on the pavements of the town at intervals: “Votes for Women. Meeting at Corn Exchange, 1.30 p.m., today.”

It was not so bad as I had expected. Of course, pieces of the chalk would break off, and one’s back ached from stooping. An interested crowd always collected at once to watch the proceedings. Occasionally a spectator would rub the first word out with his foot before the second was written, but as a rule they contented themselves with remarks, such as:

“They’re Suffragettes.” “Oh, it’s Votes for Women they’re wanting,” etc.

When this work was finished, we hired a lorry, to be placed at our disposal in the Corn Exchange — a large square capable of accommodating as big a crowd as we wanted. Then we visited two newspaper offices, to ask for an account of our meeting in the local paper, strolled into a newsagent’s to request a Votes for Women paper, and express great surprise on being told that they had none in stock, finally presenting the shopman with a copy and persuading him to exhibit the poster in his window.

After this, having found a confectioner’s shop, we partook of a light lunch, and retraced our footsteps to the Corn Exchange.

A large crowd had already collected round the lorry, most of them having evidently come out of idle curiosity. My share of the work consisted in walking about among the audience selling Votes for Women and pamphlets to anyone who wanted them, and discussing the subject with those who were too far away to hear what was being said by the speakers.

They were standing on the lorry, and each spoke for about half an hour. I made several converts, and found the people most interested and sympathetic. They were principally farmers who had come in for market day, and had never had the subject explained to them before.

One man strolled up to me with an amused smile and asked me if it was a vote I wanted or a voter. For one moment I failed to grasp his meaning, and replied that what we wanted was that women qualified as men are should have the Parliamentary vote. He changed his tone at once and began to discuss the question, so I explained the policy and views of the W.S.P.U., with the result that he gave me a shilling for the Cause.

Ten minutes later, when another man to whom I offered a pamphlet, called out: “It’s no use, miss; I’m a married man,” the other told him that he was a fool, and began to argue hotly for woman’s suffrage, finally persuading him to give a shilling also!

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