Chapter XIV: Book IV: Hadji Sadrä (4)

“I went with the deputation to the House, being one of those
drafted, and marching at the head of a large body of members of
the Union that accompanied us, but had no hope of gaining
admittance. At the Strangers’ Entrance we were met by the usual
number of watchful police, and the Inspector asked at once which
was Mrs. France; the others craned their necks and took in all
my points when I was indicated. I was then informed that I could
not enter, that the orders were positive. There was no time to
waste in protest over minor matters, another was chosen in my
place, and I was left outside with the rank and file. I was
annoyed, and had no difficulty in guessing the cause of my
exclusion. The duke may despise the present Government, but he
had not scrupled to bring his personal influence to bear on it
in order to save me from possible hurt—or notoriety.

“However, it is one of our principles to waste no time over
spilt milk, but immediately to place ourselves in readiness for
the next opportunity. I stood quietly with the others as close
to the entrance as the police outside would permit, and waited.
At the end of what seemed interminable hours, during which a
large crowd gathered, many friendly, for the public is beginning
to respect our pluck and persistence, some jeering and making
abominable jokes, our women standing as erect and patient as
soldiers, with eager set faces, ready to fight if need be, but
quite as ready to disperse peaceably if their deputation were
treated with respect—well, suddenly the doors were flung open
and out tumbled a medley of women and police. Mrs. Pankhurst,
with closed eyes and rigid limbs, as if defying the worst,
pushed along on her heels, and finally flung to the ground; Mrs.
Pethick Lawrence, struggling indignantly, torn and mauled; the
rest treated as if they were circus beasts of the forest that
had got loose in the arena,—out they came in a wild disgraceful
scrimmage. What a cartoon for posterity to gape at!

“Of course we made a rush for our friends and leaders, inspired
with precisely the same instinct to go to their assistance as if
they and we had been Men. One of our rigid principles is never
to attack the police, to assume that they are merely obeying
orders; and even when they treat us with their customary
brutality, to struggle, but not to strike; it being our desire
to show, if possible, that a great battle can be won in these
days by brains instead of force.

“Therefore, although we attempted to reach our leaders, it was
merely to rescue them if we could; at all events to show our
sympathy and indignation. But we did not reach them. The police
outside were waiting for their signal; they immediately closed
in and began striking and pushing us about, at first not
ungently: they merely bashed hats, knocked a few shoulders, and
twisted a few arms. But as fast as they dispersed one group, or
turned to attack another, we made a new rush; some in the
direction of Mrs. Pankhurst, others toward those being led off
to the police station, others, myself among them, intending to
force our way into the House, and make another demonstration in
the Lobby. Mrs. Lime had managed to keep by my side, for she
intended to enter with me. But suddenly she caught sight of a
girl being abominably mauled by a policeman, and made a brave
attempt to rescue her. The policeman dropped the girl, seized
Mrs. Lime, whirled her about, gripped her by the shoulders, and,
rushing her against the palings of Palace Yard, struck her
breasts against the iron again and again. That sight sent me off
my head. I forgot instructions, forgot the lofty impassivity I
had been taught in the East—an admirable recipe for occasions
like this, but, as yet, beyond me—I leaped on the man and
struck him on the back of the head with all my might. He dropped
Mrs. Lime and whirled about on me as furiously as if my fist had
been as hard as his own, but when he saw me, he merely dropped
his arm, scowled, and said:—

“‘Go home! Go home! You’ll get hurt,’ and ran over to pull two
women apart who had locked arms. Then I realized what I had
dimly been conscious of, that my only injuries were to my
clothes, and that these were but the result of the general
scuffle; every policeman had avoided me or brushed me off. They
had received orders to do me no harm. Among all those hundreds
of indomitable women I alone was to go scot free. The idea so
enraged me that I flew at another policeman and struck him,
determined to go to prison with the others. But he, too, brushed
me off, although he was already panting and angry, and no doubt
would have liked to strike me and then drag me to the police
station. I attacked another, and he turned his back on me with
an oath, seized a girl who was merely pushing her way quietly
through the struggling mass, her face set and gray, her eyes
with that strange intent look worn by nearly every face
belonging to our women—seized her, threw her down, and kicked
her in the side.

“Well—I managed to drag her and Mrs. Lime out of the crowd, put
them into a four-wheeler, and take them to Westminster Hospital.
They will die, no doubt; if not now, then later, devoured by the
most horrible of all diseases. But if we have lost them, we
shall have gained forty in their place, for this insensate
policy of the Government has its logical
consequence—illustrates the old truth, ‘The blood of martyrs is
the seed of reform.’ Have they never read history?

“And yet, sometimes I despair. We shall win in the end, of
course, for it is as impossible to exterminate this new force as
to chain the Atlantic. But when? And shall we be here to see? We
are only mortal, after all, and our bodies, strong to endure as
they are, can be broken by men. And the great mass of women are
so slow in awakening. In spite of the tremendous increase in our
numbers during the past year, and the interest we have aroused,
our recruits are a mere handful when compared with the female
population of Great Britain, in general. Not until all, or at
least three-fourths, of those women have awakened and rallied to
our side can we win. Of that I am convinced. One thing I strove
to do in the north was to convert the political women, those
that always assist the men so potently at every general
election. If we can persuade these women to desert the men and
fight for women alone, we shall have made a great stride. This
autumn I am to renew my acquaintance with my old associates and
visit country houses during the autumn and winter, making
converts of women who would be of inestimable benefit to us. But
that is a sort of inactive service under which I chafe. Would
that we could rouse all the women at once, form a rebel army,
take to the field and fight like men. Perhaps we shall be driven
to that in the end. It is all very well to plan to win by brains
alone, and it would be to our immortal glory if we did, but it
is to be considered that we are opposing men either without
brains themselves, or who have been bred on the idea of physical
force and really respect nothing else. Well, whatever happens, I
only ask that I may be here to see. I am willing to give my
brain and body and soul and every penny I can command to this
cause, but I want to give the last of myself at the last minute,
all the same.

“Now, write and tell me honestly if you would have me desert
these women, when I can be of signal assistance to them in not
one but many ways; and if you think I would be anything but what
this cause has made of me if I would.

“JULIA FRANCE.”