Lady Constance Lytton Read online

  LADY CONSTANCE LYTTON

  Aristocrat, Suffragette, Martyr

  Lyndsey Jenkins

  ‘How glorious those Suffragette days were!

  To lose the personal in a great impersonal is to live.’

  – Christabel Pankhurst

  ‘She was a light to our generation, lighting something which will never go out.’

  – Anonymous suffragette

  ‘Whether or not victory is for your day, at least each one of you make sure that the one course impossible to you is surrender of your share in the struggle.’

  – Lady Constance Lytton1

  NOTES

  1 Christabel Pankhurst, quoted in Midge Mackenzie, Shoulder to Shoulder: A Documentary (Penguin, 1975), p. 57; Mrs Combe Tennant, quoted in Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton (Heinemann, 1925), p. 266; Constance Lytton, Prisons and Prisoners (Virago, 1988), p. 283.

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Epigraph

  Acknowledgements

  Foreword by Dr Helen Pankhurst

  Prologue

  Chapter One: Diplomat’s Daughter

  Chapter Two: A Misfit among Eccentrics

  Chapter Three: The Ponsonbys

  Chapter Four: The Cause

  Chapter Five: The Pankhursts

  Chapter Six: Holloway

  Chapter Seven: Militant

  Chapter Eight: Becoming Jane

  Chapter Nine: Conciliation

  Chapter Ten: Betrayal

  Chapter Eleven: Paralysis

  Chapter Twelve: The Price of Victory

  Afterword

  Sources

  Index

  Plates

  Copyright

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  My first and most sincere thanks are to the Cobbold family for their interest in and support for this project. Henry Cobbold gave freely of his time and answered many questions which helped put pieces of the puzzle together; David Cobbold likewise shared his memories and knowledge. The archivist at Knebworth, Clare Fleck, is an incredibly kind and unrivalled source of wisdom on all things Lytton, and her help went far and above the call of duty. Both the family and their archivist allowed me to pore over original letters, diaries and photographs without constraint and I am incredibly grateful for this generosity.

  Other members of the extended family were also very helpful. Thank you to Michael Brander for permission to quote from the Balfour papers at the National Archives of Scotland and Lady Alison Kember for photographs of Betty Balfour. Professor Jane Ridley shared with me her immense knowledge of the Lutyens family. Thank you to Adam Pallant for permission to quote from the works of Emily Lutyens and for a photograph of her, as well as the loan of Mary Lutyens’s books – and thanks to Candia Lutyens for alerting me to the existence of Mary’s work on Edward and Elizabeth Villiers.

  The extremely warm and welcoming Samantha and Talitha Pollock-Hill gave me a lovely afternoon at Constance’s former residence, Homewood. Laura Ponsonby and Kate Russell kindly allowed me to quote from two letters of John Ponsonby.

  I wish to thank the staff at various other libraries for their assistance and permission to quote from their sources: these include Beverley Cook and Richard Dabb at the Museum of London and Bridget Gillies at the University of East Anglia archives, as well as staff at the British Library, the National Archives, the National Archives of Scotland and the Sheffield Archives, as well as the Gloucestershire archives on behalf of the Blathwayt family.

  Thank you to my agent, Humfrey Hunter, for unfailing enthusiasm and to Olivia Beattie and all the team at Biteback for their sterling efforts to make it the best possible book.

  This book came out of my MA at the University of East Anglia and I wish to thank the tutors, Professor Kathryn Hughes and Dr Helen Smith, who improved my work immeasurably. Thanks also to the students who made me think and laugh in equal measure, particularly Alexis Wolf, who is an inspiration in every way.

  Thank you to my former colleagues who didn’t mind too much (or at least didn’t say anything) when I starting muttering about votes for women instead of contributing anything sensible, especially Dan Forman and Kirsty Buchanan.

  Thank you to Steve Gregson (www.youshouldbeshot.co.uk) for all the excellent headshots and to all the friends – Jennifer Sunderland, Aleksandra Kulas, Jane Houghton, Patricia Gondim, Francesa Lopez and Holly Thompson – who helped choose the best one. That was the hardest bit.

  Thank you to my best friend and first reader, Natalie Black, who gave up her holiday to read the final draft on her phone. She was by the pool in Thailand, though, so you don’t need to feel too sorry for her.

  Final thanks and love always to my immediate and incredible family: Kathryn, Mike, Isabella and Amber Smith, and Becky Jenkins; but especially to Pauline Jenkins and Jeegar Kakkad, who did everything that I was supposed to be doing. I am sure they think I am mad, but I hope they think it was worth it.

  My lovely daughter Cerys used to climb up to where I was working and say, ‘You are doing a great job, Mum!’ and ‘I want to do important work too.’ This just meant she wanted to type her name on my computer, but I hope when she grows up, she really does do important work. This book is for you, my darling.

  In memory of David Jenkins (1956–2011).

  FOREWORD BY

  DR HELEN PANKHURST

  The cast of characters involved in the suffragette movement is a large and diverse one. Thousands of women took part, irrespective of age and class, from different walks of life, from all parts of the country and even from beyond. It is also a cast full of women who grew in stature as they put the cause of women’s rights to vote above their own struggles, their comforts and day-to-day living. However, these pioneering, feisty women rarely lived alone: many family members were supportive and also became engaged in the cause in complex and interrelated ways, while others shunned and ejected their wayward relatives.

  One of the central characters in danger of being forgotten in the reductive narrative about the movement was Lady Constance Lytton. Luckily, this biography by Lyndsey Jenkins brings her back out of the shadows. Lady Con, as she was often called, was symbolically important as an example of a woman from the upper classes (albeit an impoverished one) who joined the struggle, lending her name in order to legitimise it. She was, however, even more important as someone who managed to challenge the privileges of her status. She exposed the double standards of a government that released her from prison with little harm once she was identified as Lady Constance whilst meting out harsh, vicious and dangerous treatment when she disguised herself as Jane Warton, a poor unknown nobody. This episode, her own idea, was picked up by the media and the general public and is evidence of a growing rejection of class-based injustice – even before the First World War, the cataclysmic event to which the tremors that shook the class system are generally attributed.

  It was a sensational deed and, as Lyndsey Jenkins puts it, ‘In a campaign marked by daring feats of bravery, great moments of theatre and spectacular leaps of imagination, this act of Constance Lytton/Jane Warton still stands out. The suffragettes immediately turned her act into the stuff of legend.’

  However, there is much more to Lady Constance than this well-publicised incident, her associated work on prison reform and her book Prisons and Prisoners, which was the first personal testimony of a suffragette to be published in a book. This biography makes an important contribution to our understanding of a whole life, rather than of the single moment of notoriety.

  The biography shows the person over time with all her frailties, her shyness, the inconsistencies in her attitude to class differences, and her personal disappointments. At the same time, it reveals her intrinsic kindness and compassion, h
er bravery and her selflessness. Particularly interestingly, it also sheds light on the personal and household contexts: how one woman’s engagement in the movement ricochets around her close and extended family, who respond in different ways ranging from support or endorsement of the cause to distancing and dismay; from expressing fear of the dangers she was submitting herself to in an increasingly militant cause to worrying about the family’s name and reputation. Beyond the family, Lady Constance used her networks and status to lobby Conservative and Liberal MPs, gaining greater access than could be achieved by most. For example, her sister Betty married into the Balfour family, Arthur Balfour, the then Leader of the Conservative Party, being her brother-in-law. Her brother Victor Lytton, meanwhile, sat in the House of Lords and was friends with Winston Churchill. Despite these contacts, her lobbying arguably did not achieve much impact.

  As the book progresses, we see how Lady Constance gained massively from the movement, which gave her a sense of purpose and direction, a chance to live a fuller, more exciting life, and introduced her to women who became lifelong friends. However, she also became a casualty of the movement. Her health, never the strongest, was battered by her experiences, particularly of force feeding. She is shown to be incapacitated at different points in her life with depression, heart murmurs, bronchitis, breathlessness, partial paralysis and a stroke. Even more sadly, she was increasingly on the fringes of events, partly due to extreme ill health, and was taken in by a charlatan parading as a psychotherapist at the end of her life.

  This is an objective, unsentimental, unbiased account of Lady Constance’s life, revealing a woman whose life was punctuated with, in the author’s words, ‘acts of kindness typical of Constance, more so than the grander gestures designed to attract attention and maximise impact. Such acts came from the heart, without an eye on political strategy.’

  Lyndsey Jenkins’s book also provides a broad-brush portrayal of a woman within the context of an influential family, making sense of the historical changes at play over more than half a century. At its core, it provides an overview of the suffrage struggle and as such provides a stark reminder of how long and painful that struggle was and how many set-backs there would be before women finally got the vote on the same terms as men in 1928.

  In Jenkins’s words, ‘As the centennial anniversary of women winning the vote approaches, and we reflect on the suffragettes’ achievement and their legacy, it’s time that this exceptional woman and her extraordinary story became better known. Though these events took place a hundred years ago, they still have resonance and parallels today. Think, for example, of the misogynistic vitriol and hate directed at many women who dare to have a voice and express an opinion in public. The suffragettes would find that all too familiar. We’ve not come as far as we’d like to think.’

  PROLOGUE

  24 February 1909, London

  Lady Constance Lytton picks at her food. Around her, the rest of the suffragettes are eating hungrily: this will be their last meal before they are arrested. These veterans are cheerful enough not to worry too much about their upcoming ordeal. They’ve done this many times before.

  This is Constance’s first protest. She is almost forty years old and has spent the afternoon lying in the dark with a headache. She has come in disguise, with her hair arranged differently than usual. She is worried the police will consider her an ‘awkward customer’ because her well-known family might kick up a fuss – as well they might.

  Elsa Gye has been assigned to keep an eye on Constance. New recruits are often very nervous, and as Constance pushes her dinner around her plate, Elsa can see how troubled she is. Elsa is only in her twenties but is already a seasoned campaigner. Constance feels terribly guilty that this nice young woman will have to accompany her to prison. Constance is wearing a white muff and feather boa. She is told, gently and kindly, to leave them behind or they will be torn to shreds.

  The women assemble at Caxton Hall, putting on their ‘Votes for Women’ sashes as if they were battledress. Always disorganised, Constance has forgotten her ticket to get in and has to rush back to get it. The sense of anticipation hardens into determination and dread. There are speeches but Constance can hardly hear them. Instead she nervously asks Elsa what she needs to do.

  ‘You needn’t bother about what you’ll do,’ Elsa says matter-of-factly. ‘It will all be done to you. There is only one thing you must remember. It is our business to go forward. Whatever is said to you and whatever is done to you, you must on no account be turned back.’

  In theory, the goal of tonight’s protest is to march to the House of Commons and present a petition to the Prime Minister. But all the women know their mission is hopeless as they will inevitably be stopped and arrested. Constance is secretly glad about this. She is almost more afraid of success. What on earth would she say to the Prime Minister if she actually met him face to face?

  The women have barely set foot in the street before the police close in. Constance has little sense of direction and clings desperately to Elsa. Nothing in Constance’s genteel upbringing has prepared her for the jostling and jeering of a hostile mob. She can hardly breathe. The suffragettes break away from their neat lines and begin running through the side streets of Westminster. Constance is pushed and pulled in all directions and falls to the floor several times. She is picked up, manhandled and thrown to the floor by a policeman. Elsa is out of sight. Constance is desperate and tells another woman, ‘I can’t go on. I simply can’t go on.’

  ‘You will be all right presently,’ is her answer. It’s enough reassurance to pick herself up and try again. The dark evening is lit up again and again by the flash of press photographers.

  Eventually Constance makes it as far as the gates at the entrance to the Palace of Westminster. A policeman takes her by the arm and steers her away. Exhausted and confused, she follows him obediently. It’s not till they arrive at a police station that Constance realises she has been arrested. She is oddly relieved. At least she is out of the scrum and cannot be hurt any more.

  In the police station, Constance is reunited with her comrades, who are covered in scrapes and bruises and blood. The leader of that night’s work, Emmeline Pethick-Lawrence, is greeted as a heroine. For the first time, Constance tastes something of the rewards of being a suffragette: the friendship, the solidarity and the delight in each other’s achievements. She has never felt useful in her life until now. She is part of something at last.

  Her only regret is for her mother, and the shame Lady Lytton will feel in the morning as she unfolds the newspaper and sees the family’s illustrious name being dragged through the mud. The day before the protest, Constance had written to her mother in an attempt to explain the inexplicable: why a gentle and delicate lady of leisure should throw her lot in with the militant suffragettes.

  ‘Prisons, as you know, have been my hobby,’ is the best she can do.

  Constance’s hobby is about to become a full-time occupation.1

  18 January 1910, Liverpool Gaol

  Jane Warton hears hurried footsteps outside her cell. The doctor is coming.

  The door opens and he appears, trailed by a series of wardresses. Jane has decided not to resist and lies down obediently on the wooden bed. But the staff are taking no chances. One wardress grips her head and another pins her feet down.

  ‘There’s a choice. A wooden gag or a steel one. The steel one hurts.’

  The doctor explains in detail just how much it hurts. Jane ignores him. Defiance, an absolute refusal to comply in any way, is part of her resistance strategy. Eventually, and it is hard to imagine he doesn’t take some pleasure in this choice, he selects the steel gag. He begins screwing her mouth open. It pries her jaws apart, much wider than a mouth would normally stretch, into a gaping silent scream.

  Then the doctor pushes a four-foot long tube into her mouth and down into her stomach. He pours the ‘food’ – a white slop of milk, egg and brandy – down a funnel. Jane’s stomach automatically revol
ts and she is sick. Her body convulses, head straining forward, knees going automatically to her chest. But the wardresses hold her down tighter so she can’t struggle. The food is simultaneously going down and coming up. It seems never-ending. Eventually Jane forgets who she is. She forgets why she is there. She forgets everything but the pain and the sensation of simultaneously being choked and suffocated.

  After the doctor has finished, he slaps her in the face.

  Jane lies gasping on her cell floor. The wardresses try to comfort her, but she cannot move. She is covered with sick. It is in her clothes, through her hair and even across the cell on her bed. The wardresses say it is too late in the day to get her washed and changed. She will have to stay like that all night. Despite the squalor, Jane feels only relief that the torment is over: she can breathe again without the suffocating tube.

  Jane listens through the wall as her neighbour, Elsie, is forcefed in turn. It’s almost worse than being tortured herself. When all is quiet next door, Jane bangs on the wall and screams ‘No surrender!’ into the silence. ‘No surrender,’ Elsie echoes back through the brick wall.

  The next day, Jane decides to make a last desperate protest at her treatment before she becomes too weak to act. She takes her shoes off and uses them to smash the gas jet that heats her cell. Glass shatters all around her. The wardresses sent to clean up are frightened of this dangerous, raving woman. They take her shoes away before she can do any more damage.

  Then the doctor returns.2

  Later, Jane will try to find the words to talk about what happened. But she can’t. ‘The horror of it was more than I can describe.’3

  This is the story of how Lady Constance Lytton became Jane Warton.

  Over the course of 1909, Constance turned herself from a respectable spinster into a die-hard suffragette. It meant rejecting her upbringing, abandoning her class and defying her mother. She did it all without hesitation and with barely a backward glance at her former life.