CHAPTER IV
THE DEATH OF MY MOTHER— I MEET MISS CHRISTABEL PANKHURST — THE FIRST MILITANT ACT — THROWN OUT OF THE FREE TRADE HALL MEETING
Christmas, 1904, and the beginning of the New Year, 1905, were weeks of sadness and grave anxiety on account of my mother’s health. She was too ill for Christmas festivities, and the New Year had scarcely dawned when she died.
My mother’s faith was more the faith of a child. The only thing she desired was a heaven where she could be at peace; release from a world full of struggle to make both ends meet, a world full of anxiety and hard labour.
To my mother I owe all that I have ever been, or ever done that has called upon courage or loyalty for its support.
It was in the same year that I met Miss Christabel Pankhurst. With my mother’s death the cement of love that kept the home life together disappeared. We felt more like individuals in a big world than a family group, and each planned his life according to his or her ideals.
How little I realized the far-reaching effect that such an apparently simple action as joining a choir would have on my life! My object in joining the Oldham Clarion Vocal Union was a desire for companionship among people whose ideas were in harmony with my own. I made good friends with another member of the choir. Miss Jane Ogden, who was also a member of the Oldham Trades Council. The Council had invited Miss Christabel Pankhurst and Miss Theresa Billington to speak on Woman Suffrage, and Miss Ogden asked me to attend the meeting as her guest.
I had never heard about Votes for Women. Politics did not interest me in the least. I had never read any newspaper but the Clarion. I went to the meeting spontaneously, as I have done with most things in my life. I was not particularly excited, the name Pankhurst conveyed nothing to me.
I heard Miss Pankhurst and Miss Billington (now Mrs. Billington Greig) speak. Miss Pankhurst was more hesitating, more nervous than Miss Billington. She impressed me, though. She was most impersonal and full of zeal. Miss Billington used a sledge-hammer of logic and cold reason — she gave me the impression that she was a good debater. I liked Christabel Pankhurst: I was afraid of Theresa Billington.
The questions and the answers on “Limited
Suffrage” were Greek to me. I did not know to what they were referring.
When the meeting was over, those in the audience whose minds responded more to cold logic, drifted towards Theresa Billington; those who responded to the human side, drifted towards Miss Pankhurst. It was amusing. It was like a table where two courses were being served, one hot, the other cold. I found myself, plate in hand, where the hot course was being served. Before I knew what I had done I had promised to work up a meeting for Miss Pankhurst among the factory-women of Oldham and Lees. I walked to the station with her, and before we separated she had asked me to spend the following Saturday afternoon with them at their home in Nelson Street, Manchester.
The following week I lived on air; I simply could not eat; I wanted to be quiet and alone. I did not feel elated or excited. A sense of deep stillness took possession of me. It was as though half of me was present; where the other half was I never asked. For the first time in my life I experienced real loneliness. I instinctively felt that a great change had come. I was losing my old girl-friends of the factory.
When Saturday arrived I was a little excited. I rushed home, changed my clothes, fled to the station, and later found myself at the door at Nelson Street.
It was opened by a woman with one of the kindest faces I have ever seen. I found later it was the housekeeper. Helen was her name. She was a treasure; faithful, true, loving — and the last time I saw her, about four years ago, she was as good and true as ever.
I was shown into a large drawing-room, very artistically furnished, and Christabel introduced me to her mother. Mrs. Pankhurst had the gift of putting you at your ease immediately. I liked her, but all the time I was drawn to Christabel. She sat very quietly in a corner. She had a way of looking vacant, as though she were thousands of miles away, but I discovered later that all the time she was making indelible mental notes about me that were never erased.
We discussed the forthcoming meeting in Oldham, fixed the date, and Christabel drafted the handbill. I had decided to ask the choirmaster to let the choir sing as an attraction. When everything was settled it was getting late, and I had a long way to go to my home, so I departed.
I started working up the meeting. I approached the choirmaster, who said the choir could sing for us. I got the handbills, and putting about fifty in a wrapper, posted them to some people I knew who worked in the factories round Lees and Oldham. My sister and I went to Oldham and gave the other bills away.
The night of the meeting arrived. I had persuaded a sister to take the chair for Miss Pankhurst, but my future leader insisted on my promising to say a few words. It was a stroke of good fortune that the choir turned up, as they were the only audience we had to address, save Alice Hurst and another friend! There was no living interest in the question.
This meeting made the link stronger between Christabel and myself. Every Saturday I found myself at Nelson Street, and one day I was surprised to hear that they had arranged a meeting at Tib Street, at which I had to speak. Tib Street is just off Market Street, famous for its Labour and unemployed meetings.
I pleaded for exemption, but it was not granted, and I found myself at about seven o’clock at night, mounted on a temporary platform, addressing the crowd. What I said I do not remember. I suppose I touched on Labour, the unemployed, children, and finally summed up the whole thing by saying something about Votes for Women. This was my first public speech.
I suggested that a good place for meetings would be the Fair Ground in all the towns around Manchester. The idea was jumped at by Christabel. One town we visited was Blackburn. I had to speak at every meeting, and I had to start by telling them I was a factory-girl and a Trade Unionist.
When the meeting at Blackburn was over one of the officials of the local Trade Union approached me and asked whether I thought I could give them a week or two’s organizing among the girls, persuading them to join the Trade Union. This pleased Christabel. She saw ready-made audiences to speak to, and she advised me to try and accept the offer.
The following day I approached the overlooker at the factory and asked if I might be allowed off for a week or two. It was quite out of the ordinary routine of factory life, but after much talking I got his consent. As I was leaving the office he came up to me, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, “Well, Annie Kenney, you’ve won. You ought to make a fortune with that tongue of yours!”
I went to Blackburn and held meetings among the women and girls of the factories. I worked for two weeks among them. When my two weeks were finished the Trade-Union Official informed me that I had made more members during my visit than they had made in a year. The news of this success pleased and encouraged me.
It was not until I had worked among them that I fully realized the necessity of having women on the local committees. There were 96,000 women members of the Trade Union, and yet there was not one woman official.
After a talk with Mrs. Pankhurst and Christabel on this subject, they asked me to put my name down for election on the local committee in Lees. This I did, to the surprise and amusement of the other women. I started to canvass for myself, and asked all the women I knew to vote for me and persuade their friends to do the same.
The night of the election arrived. The hall was crowded. There were two seats vacant, and there were three candidates, two men and myself. The vote was taken by a show of hands. When these were counted it was found that I had got more votes than either of the two men; I was at the top of the poll. The work of the local committee was to meet once a week. We sat and heard any cases of injustice, and also paid “out of work” money. Each member of the committee received 1s. for every committee meeting.
I decided to join the Correspondence Classes at Ruskin College. I thought it would be more helpful if I knew the history of Trade Unionism. I found the study of great interest, and the women enjoyed listening to what I had to tell them of this universal movement.
Fortunately for me, Mr. Crinnion, one of the veterans of constitutional Trade Unionism, a friend to the factory women, was one of the heads of the women’s Trade Union, and proved to be a real friend to me. He helped me in every possible way, and took me to many meetings to speak to the women and explain the necessity of co-operation.
Trade Unionism then was absolutely genuine. Its chief object was to protect the workers against real injustice, and the funds were for those who were out of work. The whole movement now seems to be one of mild revolution, and the one word that is used for all purposes is strikes! It may be that Trade Unionism has had its day, and that the State may have to undertake the work done by the movement in the past. We are a democracy. Both men and women are now voters. We have the Insurance Act, the Unemployment Act, and much of the relief work that was done in the past by Trade Unions, has been taken over by the State, of which we are all members. The Government, under whatever name it governs, is chosen by the votes of millions of Trade Unionists, and the power of the vote, used with intelUgence, foresight, and wisdom, could be utilized to make Trade Unionism un- necessary. Trade Unionism at one time was the only protection the workers had for their defence.
A short while after this it was announced that there would be a great Liberal rally in the Free Trade Hall, Manchester, as a preparation for the much desired General Election. Mr. Churchill was to be supported by another prospective Minister, Sir Edward Grey.
What was to be done about Votes for Women? Who was to do it? The Militant Policy was then decided upon. It was not really “militant,” except in so far as the methods of dealing with the question were changed, and a change in policy always has the appearance of rebellion.
The great difference between the old method and the new lay in the changing of a word. The old school said, “Are you in favour of women having the vote ?” the new school said, “Will you give us the vote?”
Aspiring politicians could answer the old school; none would answer the new school. The wisest among them saw the cleverness of the change, but pretended otherwise. They knew that it was the only way to win the vote; they must have known!
Christabel Pankhurst decided that she and I would go to the Free Trade Hall meeting, wait until question time (quite a legitimate way of getting answers to problems perplexing voters), then rise and put this question to Mr. Churchill: “If you are elected, will you do your best to make Woman Suffrage a Government Measure?” Instinctively she knew that the question would never be answered, for two reasons: had he said Yes, the Cabinet would have practically been committed to carry it out; had he said No, the Liberal women would have pricked up their ears. Cabinet Ministers knew this; that was what made all the trouble. For the first time one single word from them was the only thing asked for — “Yes” or “No.” Again the very simplicity of the case made it frightfully difficult for the average politician, the average voter, and the average party woman, to understand.
We made a banner, and inscribed on it the new war cry, “Votes for Women,” and we decided if we were not answered, to stand up and unfurl the banner, so that all could see that the question that had been put was one on Votes for Women. We went to the meeting, listened very attentively to the speeches, and at the end questions were asked, some Labour men putting questions about the unemployed.
They were answered. Then I rose and put mine. No reply. The chairman asked for other questions. I rose again, and was pulled down by two enthusiastic Liberals behind me.
We then unfurled the flag. That was enough. The little speck of cloud gathered, which afterwards covered the whole political horizon, only to be dispersed by a greater, blacker, denser cloud taking its place — the war-cloud of 1914.
There was no answer to our question, and the strong arms of Liberal stewards dragged us from the meeting and literally flung us out of doors. This created a sensation. A great part of the audience followed. I addressed them. At least I made an effort to do so, but before I had explained what had happened I found myself in custody and being marched off between two policemen. The strange thing was that I had not the least fear. I did not feel ashamed at the crowds seeing me marched off. I had indeed started a new life. My admiration for Christabel and my belief in what I was doing kept me calm and determined.
CHAPTER V
SENTENCED TO THREE DAYS’ IMPRISONMENT IN STRANGEWAYS GAOL
On the following day, October 14th, 1905, we put in an appearance at the court, and were found guilty of obstruction. The court procedure did not impress me in the least, though I had a little strange quivering sensation when I heard the magistrate sentencing me to three days’ imprisonment, with the option of a fine of 5s. with costs. It was no doubt thought by the authorities that the fine would be paid and all would be over and soon forgotten.
But Christabel Pankhurst’s mind did not work on those lines. One thing she did not wish, and that was that the episode should be forgotten. The bait had been strong enough; the Press had bitten; the night’s catch was rich in the extreme. The very extremity of abuse, criticism, and condemnation hurled at us by the morning Press for such an inoffensive protest as that which we had made the previous night at the Free Trade Hall meeting, was in itself a sign that astute parliamentarians realized that we knew what we were about. As the question was not a party question we were treated with hostility by the Press of both political parties — the party Press invariably joins forces against non-party measures.
The court was crowded. Manchester was excited. The name of Pankhurst being well known in the city, the case was interesting to the people. Not only Manchester was roused, but the whole country read about the episode in the morning papers.
And so the fight began. Christabel Pankhurst had declared war. Her army consisted of her mother, her two sisters, Miss Billington, myself, and about twenty working-women who had broken away from the Labour Party to devote themselves to the Cause. Her opponents’ army consisted of two highly organized political parties. Liberal and Conservative, of the Labour Party, whose sympathy was “here to-day and gone to-morrow,” of the whole Press, and of practically all women’s societies. Two dozen women backed Christabel Pankhurst in the challenge thrown out by her to the people, the Government, the armed forces of the Crown, and the powerful force of the Press. How we should win, when we should win, I never asked. I lived then as I have lived nearly all my life, not in the past or in the future, but in the “eternal now.” To live in the “now” makes life far simpler.
I think one accomplishes more if one lives each day as it comes. A certain part of the mind may be traversing the future, or silently meditating on the past, but when the whole energy, thought, and vital force is concentrated on the particular piece of work in hand, it leads to success and contentment. My thoughts never dwelt on how long it would take us to win the vote, or on whether all women would become interested, or on whether we should ever win.
On my way to gaol I was aware of one thing only. I had been sentenced to a term of imprisonment and I was being taken to Strangeways Prison in an old cab!
Our supporters seemed delighted to see us sent off to prison, and the public seemed fairly satisfied with their morning’s recreation. So everybody was pleased, including myself. My pleasure came from seeing Christabel’s face lit up with a light that later in life I discovered meant Victory. She was pleased at the way I had carried out my protest on the previous night, and at the way I had conducted myself in the court, and I saw that she had confidence in me and gave me credit for sufficient courage to carry on until we were through. Her confidence in me gave me confidence in myself.
It is acknowledged by all leaders that the personal touch, the spoken word, the kindly look, the acknowledgment of bravery, the faith that each one will do his or her best, plays a tremendous part in the ruling of a people, the commanding of a navy, the leading of an army into battle, or the inspiring of a cause. Christabel Pankhurst had the gift of making the most apparent dunce or the greatest dolt feel confident and useful. Development under her was certain. You had to develop. She just gave you your work and left you to carry it out. She expected you to do wonders and perform miracles, and miracles were indeed performed.
One of the wonders to me is that she ever raised in me a genuine passion for politics. No one who had watched my growth from girlhood would have believed that I could have entered into the spirit of them, and yet I felt within a few monthsas though I had been in the heart of politics all my life.
I remember very little of my life in prison. Being my first visit to gaol, the newness of the life numbed me. I do remember the plank bed, the skilly, the prison clothes. I also remember going to church and sitting next to Christabel, who looked very coy and pretty in her prison cap. She took my hand tenderly and just held it, as though I were a lost child being guided home. She guessed my feelings of strangeness, and no doubt I looked lonely and troubled.
I scarcely ate anything all the time I was in prison, and Christabel told me later that she was glad when she saw the back of me, it worried her to see me looking pale and vacant.
One other thing I remember quite clearly. My mother, who had died the previous year, came to me in my cell, and wore an approving look and a gentle smile, which comforted me, and gave me the assurance I needed that I had acted rightly and that she was pleased with me. This was a great consolation.
None of my family had the faintest idea I was in prison until they read the news in the papers. Two of my sisters paid me a visit, and asked if they might pay the fine and give me my release — it was thoughtful of them not to pay it before asking me. I said No, our policy being “Prison, or Votes for Women,” and at the moment I felt I might be in prison all my life.
The day of my release was a happy and exciting day for me. Members of the choir were waiting to welcome me, two of my girl friends from the factory, two sisters, and many strangers. A telegram had come from the overlooker at the factory during my absence, demanding my immediate return, but I of course had been in prison when it arrived.
Mrs. Pankhurst greeted me by saying, “Annie, as long as I have a home you must look upon it as yours. You will never have to return to factory life.” The news did not surprise me, as I had been told by a still small voice in prison that this would happen to me on my release. As I had been living with them for weeks I accepted the offer as though I had been asked to stay to lunch, and what they thought of the calm way I took the news I do not know.
I was excited when I heard of a big rally to be held in the Free Trade Hall. It was to be a protest against our arrest and imprisonment. It is amazing the crowds that will assemble if they can protest against something or some one!
It was just a week from our being boo’d out of the same hall. It was packed, and hundreds were turned away. Bouquets and flowers were given to us, songs of liberty were sung in our favour. Labour was in great prominence, vowing support, and cheering us to the echo.
Christabel made a most eloquent speech, full of passion and fire. I delivered my speech, and I trembled as I made it. I felt nervous when I saw the great hall full of earnest, excited faces. I knew the change had come into my life. The old life had gone, a new life had come. Had I found on my return that I had taken on a new body, I should not have been in the least surprised. I felt absolutely changed. The past seemed blotted out. I had started on a new cycle. I was intelligently conscious that the change meant added responsibility. Truth is always illuminating, and Christabel Pankhurst’s speech was truth to me. She it was who lit the fire which consumed the past. It was but a sign of growth that the eternal “I” within me had gained all the experience it could from the old life, and had taken unto itself a more complicated and varied life, to acquire, learn, and gain greater experience for the development of the undying spirit which is deathless, ever on an eternal journey.
These are a few reasons which explain to me why some people are so little understood. They appear uncertain, capricious, changeable. Their thoughts are dynamic, their lives volcanic. The lava thrown out by such a human Vesuvius is sometimes dangerous and a source of annoyance to others, whose thoughts flow more evenly; and yet who knows that the heated material sent forth may not some day be used in the building up of a great structure? Apart from those whose human failings lead them into blind alleys, there are among these volcanic natures the poets, the painters, and the musicians of all ages and of all lands.
Those who appreciate the truth of the vibratory law which rules all nature, understand these rather fiery turbulent forces around them, and invariably one discovers that the lowest vibration of these people is higher than the highest vibration of the average man and woman. No wonder neither understands the other. Ordinary people quite innocently draw from the turbulent and vital person with whom they come in contact, the vital force of life itself.
CHAPTER VI
MY FIRST VISIT TO LONDON — THE GREAT LIBERAL RALLY — THROWN OUT OF THE ALBERT HALL
The Women’s Bloodless Militant Revolution began in the North Country, the home of other revolutions, both bloodless and otherwise.
A little speck of cloud appeared in the sky. Only a few people in the whole world saw it, and even they did not realize that it would gather with startling rapidity until the whole sky was darkened.
There would have been no Militant Movement had a few leading politicians of 1905 really and honestly believed in women having the Vote. Most of them believed in the principle of tax-paying women having the right to vote, but they had not the faintest desire to see Votes for Women in practice. This problem of principle and practice faces each human being, and politicians are just human beings like the rest of us. Many people believe in vegetarianism on a humanitarian principle, but it stops there, just as it does with myself. The failure to put into practice accepted principles arises from weakness in one form or another.
Cowardice, laziness, vacillation in its many forms, lack of energy or backbone — which of these negative qualities was the cause of inaction on the part of the politicians of 1905 — they alone can say.
When the big meeting was over, another great open-air demonstration was arranged on the cricket ground in Manchester. Two platforms in the form of trolleys were placed for the speakers. Christabel was the speaker on one trolley, I on another.
When we arrived, instead of a dog, a man, a child, and a few stragglers, which had been our usual crowd at the start of a meeting, thousands of people were present, all pressing forward to see the two “gaol-birds” and hear what they had to say.
It was at this period that Mrs. Flora Drummond, who later played such a prominent part in the Movement, Joined our small forces. A few days in prison had done the trick. The public have remained unchanged since the days of the great Demosthenes, who, by the way, was a man our statesmen would have done well to study before assembling for the Versailles Conference. His oration upon the Crown was especially instructive. “All men are naturally prone to take pleasure in listening to invective and accusation,” ho said.
The people love change and variety in its many forms. They got their hearts’ desire. Two rebels who were censuring the Government and accusing politicians ; two women who had been sent to prison for interfering with mysterious people occupying such exalted positions as those of prospective Cabinet Ministers were something worth looking at! The Press made the movement famous.
Mr. Balfour (now Lord Balfour) resigned as Prime Minister on December 4th, 1905, and the King called upon Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman to form an Administration. To celebrate the great victory it was arranged that a Liberal rally should be held in the Royal Albert Hall on December 21st. At this meeting the Liberal programme would be announced.
If it was necessary for us to ask a question at the Free Trade Hall meeting, it was vital that a question should be asked at the first great Liberal rally in London. The Manchester Labour Party organized a social gathering and Mrs. Pankhurst gave one of her daughter’s pictures to be raffled to raise money for our fares to London. All the money that was necessary for the work in the very early days came out of Mrs. Pankhurst’ s pocket.
Tickets were bought, and I was chosen to be one of the women to make a protest. This was my first visit to London, and I have no impression of it except of buying hot chestnuts and eating them as I walked up the Strand and Fleet Street!
Through a friendly Labour-man two tickets were secured for Mr. John Burns’ private box, and they were given to me. Before the meeting I was disguised in a fur coat and a thick veil. My companion was an East End woman who was to come as my maid. We were almost the first arrivals in the hall, which action in itself would have given the game away later in the fight.
We waited patiently for the meeting to start. An express letter had been sent to Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, which was timed to arrive as the meeting commenced, and it asked that a pronouncement be made on Woman Suffrage. Unless a favourable reply were given it said, I (which meant we) should feel called upon to make a protest.
No reply was given, much less a favourable one, so in the middle of his speech I got up and asked whether the Liberals, if elected, would give Votes to women.
As soon as the audience heard that sentence it rose in anger. I had pinned a banner round my waist, bearing the simple motto, “Give Votes to Women.” I brought this out and hung it over the box. As I did so everybody roared with laughter, for it was upside down! The only person in the assembly who could read it was myself!
In the body of the hall I saw the figure of an old gentleman, who was standing on his seat waving his hat in encouragement. I found soon afterwards that it was Mr. W. T. Stead.
When gentle persuasion had no effect in quieting me. Free Trade Hall methods were adopted by the Liberal stewards, and I found myself in the street.
It was decided that those who had protested should meet at Mr. Keir Hardie’s private flat, off Chancery Lane. Mr. Hardie was always very kind to us in those early stormy days, when we were looked upon either as mad or as outcasts. He sheltered us when no other public person would have dared. I feel we owe him a debt for his generosity to us when we arrived in London so misunderstood. The thought of these kind acts, shown to us by a modest few, remained with me in the most hostile, inharmonious, and fierce part of the fight.
On my return to Manchester the one topic was how we could raise money to enable us to take part in the forthcoming General Election.
An idea struck me. Why not go out carol-singing as we used to do when I attended Sunday School? This suggestion was welcomed. About seven of us practised the day before, but the drawback was that none of us could remember all the verses of the Christmas carols!
Fortunately Christmas Eve was dry and fine.
So off we set when we thought that everybody would have retired for the night. We did our best, and a few people must have felt sorry for us, for they threw pennies from their bedroom windows. Then we thought of two friends of the Cause, who lived in Victoria Park, so we tramped Manchester again, and though feeling tired and sleepy we exercised our vocal chords once more. We were invited in, and the ladies, who seemed highly amused, gave us 2s. 6d. By the time we got home we had earned the large sum of 5s. 6d. through our night’s labour!
Within a few weeks the country was plunged into a General Election. It was an accepted fact among all politicians that the next Government would be a Liberal one. Then came Christabel’s second act of statesmanship: the decision to adopt a Militant Election Policy.
The policy decided upon by her was opposition to all Government Ministers unless a definite promise was forthcoming from the future Prime Minister (the late Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman) that Votes for Women would be included in the King’s Speech. Cabinet Ministers pretended to be puzzled at this action. It was called illogical, stupid. “Why,” said they, “oppose only Cabinet Ministers and not the rank and file?”
Actually they knew better. They knew the rank and file had nothing to do with drawing up the King’s Speech, and they also knew that most of the electors were ignorant on this point, as well as most party women. So they felt safe in ridiculing the policy and encouraging their supporters to do the same. But their opposition was a stimulant, and we gained in strength and numbers with every additional dose they gave out.
In one day the whole of our tactics were changed. No more Private Members’ Bills for us, we would have nothing less than a Government measure. The very simplicity of the case made it difficult to understand. The ignorance of Parliamentary procedure by the average man voter at the 1905 Election was staggering. For the first time the electors in Manchester were told of the stages that Bills had to go through; of the responsibilities of those who were chosen as Cabinet Ministers ; all the tricks of the political profession, in fact, were discussed and debated at the street comer and in every schoolroom and hall where there were women speaking.
This in itself was a revolution in Election tactics. Instead of being shown two sticks, one with a gigantic loaf at the end and the other with a dwarf loaf attached, held up as emblems of justice and injustice, fair play and foul play, liberty and slavery, and so on, the electors were asked to listen to speeches on Parliamentary procedure, and on the justice of women’s claims to share in electing the candidate who was to represent them in Parliament. Elections as run to-day are just one great clashing of wills. The candidate with the best organizers and the cleverest speakers and canvassers, with temperament, vitality, and personality, invariably comes out on the top, especially at by-elections where each party can collect a greater force and concentrate on one constituency.
There is very little genuine educational work done in Elections. It seems a pity, for the public are ready to listen to speeches which are constructive and enlightening. Why keep all the electorate in the First Form when they are ready for the Sixth? Why should candidates be afraid of giving out to the electors the knowledge they possess? Statesmen and politicians will have to wake up. We are not living in the time of the Election of 1905. We are living in 1924, and there has been a tremendous world revolution, which has meant evolution and mental development. The possibilities for us as a people were never greater.
Looking back to 1905, I firmly believe that our little modest group in Manchester started a new method of politics by leaving out all feeling of personality. We dealt with opponents as representatives of principles not in harmony with those for which we stood.
Christabel at this time was also studying for the Bar. Where she studied, how she studied, when she studied, is to me still a mystery. She was working for the movement the whole of the day and practically every night. On those nights that we were at home we sat round the fire discussing future plans. And yet when she graduated in 1906, she took the LL.B. degree with Honours. She was only twenty-six years of age. Once through, all books were put away, and like all personal belongings of the militant leaders, they became the lost, stolen, or strayed goods of the world. She never spoke of her degree, never used the letters that she was entitled to. This was Christabel.
