Lady Constance Lytton Read online

  55 Constance Lytton to Adela Smith, 10 September 1908, in Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton, p. 136.

  56 Constance Lytton, Prisons and Prisoners, p. 10.

  57 Ada Wright quoted in Barbara Green, Spectacular Confessions, p. 58.

  58 Constance Lytton to Adela Smith, 10 September 1908, in Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton, p. 136.

  59 Constance Lytton, Prisons and Prisoners, p. 9.

  60 Constance Lytton, Prisons and Prisoners, p. 12.

  61 Constance Lytton, Prisons and Prisoners, pp. 13–14.

  62 See Maroula Joannou, ‘“She who would be politically free herself must strike the blow”: Suffragette Autobiography and Suffragette Militancy’ in Julia Swindells, The Uses of Autobiography (Taylor and Francis, 1995).

  63 Emily Lytton to Rev. Whitwell Elwyn, 6 October 1893, in Emily Lutyens, A Blessed Girl, p.240.

  64 Constance Lytton to Aunt T, 23 January 1907, in Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton, p. 131 and Constance Lytton to Dorothea Ponsonby, 30 May 1907, in Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton, p. 132.

  65 Emily Lutyens, Candles in the Sun (Williams Clowes and Sons, 1957), p. 14.

  66 Jane Ridley, Edwin Lutyens, p. 169.

  67 Quoted in Jane Ridley, Edwin Lutyens, p. 183.

  68 Constance Lytton to Aunt T, 20 September 1908, Balfour Papers, National Archives of Scotland, GD/433/2/337/103.

  69 Emmeline Pethick-Lawrence to Constance Lytton, 28 October 1908, in the Autograph Collection, Vol. XX, Women’s Library.

  70 Emmeline Pethick-Lawrence, ‘The Autumn Campaign’ in Votes for Women, 8 September 1908, p. 441.

  71 Constance Lytton to Teresa Earle, 22 November 1908, Balfour Papers, National Archives of Scotland, GD433/2/337/109–110.

  72 Constance Lytton to Teresa Earle, 20 September 1908, Balfour Papers, National Archives of Scotland, GD/433/2/337/103.

  73 Betty Balfour to Constance Lytton, undated but autumn 1908, Balfour Papers, National Archives of Scotland, GD433/2/337/104.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE PANKHURSTS

  ‘To consciences stirring uneasily with the thought: “Ought I to help?” the militant movement appealed insistently: “Here is action! With us stagnation and quiescence under the sufferings of women are no more. It is your duty and your privilege to help us in the cause of your sex. You can go to prison and win the laurels of immortality.”’1

  In February 1908, a Private Members’ Bill to enfranchise women had passed its second reading in the House of Commons by a significant majority. But by the autumn it was clear the government was not going to give the Bill more parliamentary time, which meant it had no chance of becoming law. Christabel was determined to lead a new protest on the House of Commons. But what should they do to Parliament? Raid it? Storm it? Besiege it? Mabel Tuke considered the problem and came up with the idea of a ‘rush’ on the House of Commons.2 The day was set for Tuesday 11 October 1908. On Monday, Christabel, her mother Emmeline and their chief organiser, ‘General’ Flora Drummond, were summoned to Bow Street Magistrates’ Court for ‘inciting the public to do a wrongful and illegal act’.3 They refused to go. Instead, they cheekily informed the authorities that they would be available for arrest at 6 p.m. the next day, giving them time to finish preparing for the rush. The police searched the WSPU’s headquarters at Clement’s Inn but failed to track down the fugitives, who were hiding in the flat above. As promised, at 6 p.m. on Tuesday the leaders emerged triumphant, in full view of the press, were arrested and were taken to Bow Street.

  The show went on without them. Spurred on by the thought of their beloved leaders in prison, thousands of women marched on the Houses of Parliament that evening. They were met by 5,000 policemen and 60,000 spectators. There had been a march against unemployment earlier in the day and many of the protestors had stayed on into the evening hoping to see some fun. Two women threw stones at the windows of 10 Downing Street. Another, Mrs Travers Symons, actually made it to the floor of the House of Commons, where she howled at the MPs to stop their debate until the women’s question was answered. One paper wrote that ‘the scene in Parliament-square was extraordinary – perhaps the most astonishing scene ever seen in this place of history’,4 but the coverage was, in general, dismissive. These were women ‘doing their best to destroy their own cause’, said the Mail, while the Express said that ‘the cause of women’s suffrage has been put back a generation by the freaks of Mrs Pankhurst and her silly followers’.5 Thirty-six people – including twelve men – were sent to prison for three weeks following the scuff le.6

  Constance did not take part. Earlier in the day, she had arrived at Clement’s Inn and declared to Emmeline Pethick-Lawrence that although she couldn’t support the deputation, she wanted to help in some way. Emmeline asked her to try to secure ‘first division’ status for the prisoners. This had practical advantages – since first division prisoners had more privileges – but was also symbolically important. It would mean that the suffragettes were recognised as political prisoners and not treated as common criminals.

  Constance took this mission extremely seriously. It is unlikely that there was another woman in the entire movement who could have done what she did. She simply marched down to the House of Commons to find Arthur Ponsonby, who, in one of those strange coincidences of history, was now private secretary to the Home Secretary. He carried a series of notes between Constance and Gladstone back and forth, but to no avail. Gladstone said that he couldn’t intervene before a sentence had been passed and still wouldn’t intervene afterwards. Undeterred, Constance decided to track down the magistrate responsible for sentencing the three prisoners and appeal to his better nature.

  She went first to Bow Street Magistrates’ Court. The magistrate had left for the day, but a kind policeman asked if she would like to see one of the prisoners; and so Constance found herself face to face with Emmeline Pankhurst herself. She never forgot her first encounter with the ‘guardian protector of the women’s movement’.7 Mrs Pankhurst appeared almost regal, despite her physical frailty, evident weariness and grim surroundings: Constance called her ‘the friendly Great One’.8 She wanted more clothes. Constance offered hers, before the wardress politely pointed out that she would probably need them in order to leave. Mrs Pankhurst then asked if Constance would try to get the three released for the night so they would be fully rested for the trial.

  Constance set off again in search of the magistrate. She tracked him down through a gentlemen’s club phone book and traipsed halfway across London to find him. But she accidentally had found the address for the magistrate’s son. He was able to put her on the right track, but more time was lost. When she eventually found the right address, it was very late in the evening. She asked if he would see Lady Constance Lytton. ‘I own the family name was dragged in here,’ she told Edith later, ‘but I can’t think it was in a disgracing way.’9 Of course, the magistrate refused to listen and sent her packing back to Clement’s Inn where she regrouped with Emmeline Pethick-Lawrence. By now, it was very late in the evening. Emmeline was struck by the change in Constance, seeing that ‘she had become since some hours earlier in the day, a transformed person. All the caution, all the mental reserve which hitherto she had maintained, had gone.’10 The two women returned to the magistrates’ court to see whether anything could be done to make the prisoners more comfortable. They were too late. The Pankhursts and Flora Drummond were enjoying a beautiful dinner from the Savoy, sent over by a friendly MP, complete with silverware and servants and comfortable beds for the night.11 ‘They don’t let ’em starve,’ shouted one of the crowd outside. ‘No need to let them starve until it is necessary,’ Constance replied.12

  Constance had genuinely believed that a well-meaning request from a well-placed person would be enough to bend the strict rules of the English legal system. Ironically, this was the sort of abuse of social position and privilege she would soon find abhorrent. As Constance herself later admitted
, it was obvious that she was ‘altogether new to the rules of the game’.13

  ‘We believe in Emmeline Pankhurst – Founder of the Women’s Social and Political Union. And in Christabel Pankhurst, her eldest daughter, our Lady, who was inspired by the passion for Liberty – born to be a leader of women. Suffered under the Liberal government, was arrested, tried and sentenced. She descended into prison; the seventh day she returned again to the world. She was entertained to breakfast, and sat on the right hand of her mother, our glorious Leader, from thence she went forth to judge both the Government and the Antis.’ 14

  The Pankhurst trial caused a sensation. Christabel had earned her law degree in 1906, but was prohibited from practising as a barrister because she was a woman: this was the first time she had been able to put her legal training to use, acting as defence lawyer as well as defendant.15 Her defence rested on two central points. First, the word ‘rush’ was a mild term which could not be interpreted as incitement to violence. Second, the Liberal government itself had positively encouraged women to take these sorts of steps, just as men had done in uprisings which had preceded the Reform Acts in the nineteenth century. It is difficult to exaggerate the courage it must have taken to stand up for herself in this courtroom full of men: in those days, the magistrate, prosecutor and police were all male. Many people have criticised Christabel’s leadership, her strategy and her position on everything from the First World War to sexually transmitted diseases, to religion and even to all men. But despite her questionable opinions, it is sometimes impossible to do anything but admire her exceptional bravery, and this trial was the first time the public really saw her in full flight.

  With extraordinary audacity, Christabel called both the Chancellor, David Lloyd George, and the Home Secretary, Herbert Gladstone, as witnesses, and then proceeded to skewer them so precisely that the magistrate had to remind her that she was not actually allowed to cross-examine her own witness. Lloyd George, who had been in Trafalgar Square, was made to admit that he had not heard any calls to violence; in fact, he had taken his six-year-old daughter along, and eventually said that he was ‘not competent to express an opinion in the witness box’. Gladstone, who had witnessed events in Trafalgar Square, was made to listen to his own words, and quotes from his famous father, used as evidence that the government encouraged the suffragettes to behave as they did. Taken to pieces by this uppity young woman, the Cabinet ministers were evasive, bad-tempered and noncommittal. They were not used to being questioned by women. Christabel, in contrast, was impassioned, impressive and lethally effective. Her bold move guaranteed extensive coverage in the newspapers, which covered their trial and reported their speeches in great depth, cementing the Pankhurst name in the popular imagination. Christabel planned to call more than fifty witnesses but the magistrate, irritated that she had turned the courtroom into her personal political circus, refused to let her. This was the first time Christabel and Lloyd George would directly cross swords and she said that his rebellious, troublemaking career had actually been an example to them.16 In the future, Lloyd George would become one of the suffragettes’ main targets; they were so disruptive that he eventually banned all women from his public events.

  The press fell in love with Christabel. She was described as ‘Portia in the dock’17 and Max Beerbohm wrote in the Saturday Review:

  Her joyousness is one of the secrets of her charm … she is a most accomplished comedian … she has all the qualities which an actress needs … her whole body is alive with her every meaning … she was like nothing so much as a little singing bird born in captivity.18

  Constance, sat in court with rapt attention, was transfixed, and called Christabel ‘the sunrise of the women’s movement’.19 She herself was called as a witness and testified that the crowd had been orderly, peaceful and well-behaved. She had been in a cab in Trafalgar Square: progress had been slow but the traffic was still moving.20 She had not been afraid. Edith was in despair at the Lytton name appearing in the press associated with this circus. ‘Of course I did not give my name to any press man, nor make a bid for publicity. I have done nothing that you need be ashamed of,’ Constance wrote, but then continued, ‘Wild things are like me. I shall probably do them.’21 It’s unlikely this reassured her mother much.

  On the last day of the trial, Christabel faltered for the first time. Worn down by the immense strain of the past few days, she seemed on the verge of tears, and instead of her usual theatrical performance, she read nervously from a prepared script. ‘Though a pale gleam of sunlight touched her face and hair, it was evident that the shadow of the gaol was already creeping into her heart,’ said one paper.22 Emmeline Pankhurst rose to the occasion instead, and gave the performance of her life. ‘We have tried every way,’ she told the packed courtroom.

  We have presented larger petitions than were ever presented for any other reform, we have succeeded in holding greater public meetings than men have ever had … We have faced hostile mobs at street corners … because we have done this, we have been misrepresented, we have been ridiculed, we have had contempt poured upon us … we are here not because we are law-breakers; we are here in our efforts to become lawmakers.23

  She spoke of her experiences as a guardian, of her contact with innocent women treated appallingly under existing laws and of her belief that female participation was needed to shape those laws to the realities of female experience. The Telegraph was impressed. ‘The powerful and impassioned speech addressed to the Bench by Mrs Pankhurst will linger in the memory of all who listened to it. Anything more earnest, more intense, more appealing, in its own particular way, it would not be easy to imagine.’24 The papers were united in their admiration of the women and only wished they were putting their considerable talents to better use.25 Constance was likewise deeply moved. ‘It was obvious to all who listened to the case that they were fighting against evil and were in all things most essentially good, so that one was awed by them,’ she wrote later in Prisons and Prisoners.

  It was not obvious to quite everyone. The magistrate found that the ‘rush’ handbill was likely to cause a breach of the peace; he sentenced Christabel to two months and Flora and Emmeline to three. Showing just how much he had misunderstood the dynamics of the relationship and how much prejudices about acceptable behaviour came into play, the elder women were given longer sentences because they had, in the magistrate’s view, led Christabel astray. In the event, Flora served only nine days of her sentence when it became obvious that she was pregnant.

  Though the Pankhursts ended their trial in prison, they emerged from the experience as national celebrities. More importantly, the press were at last taking them seriously, and detailed coverage of their arguments enabled them to reach an audience of millions. Millicent Fawcett, though, felt they had gone too far, and wrote to a friend:

  The House of Commons, with all its faults, stands for order against anarchy, for justice against brutality, and to overcome it and to invite others to endeavour to overcome it by brute force of the lowest ruffians in London was in my opinion the act either of a mad woman or a dastard.26

  For the first time, the NUWSS distanced themselves from the militant suffragettes.

  But Constance was absolutely won over. She wrote to Aunt T, ‘I go deeper and deeper in my enthusiasm for the women, and even for their “tactics” as I understand it more and more – not only what they do but what has been done to them.’27 She had seen women attempt to exercise their lawful rights in lawful ways only to be brutally rebuffed. She blamed the authorities for forcing them to behave like outlaws. She couldn’t understand why men like Gladstone and Lloyd George, who, as Liberals, theoretically supported votes for women, were not doing more to achieve that end and instead had joined forces with those trying to silence the women. They made a stark contrast with the WSPU leaders. As she wrote later,

  Mrs Pankhurst was the most noble, Mrs Drummond the most practical, Miss Christabel Pankhurst the most clever. She appeared to me to be the most far-se
eing, the least depressed by wrongs although she would work day and night for their redress … She saw far off the attainment of that for which we in darkness strove.28

  Constance was not content to simply support the suffragettes with her money, time or title. She had to become a suffragette herself. ‘I needed no converting now,’ she wrote in Prisons and Prisoners, ‘and my only wish was to convince my mother.’29

  This would prove impossible. Edith was horrified by Constance’s choice and remained implacably against it. It was difficult for Edith to understand and accept her daughter’s new cause when Constance had spent forty years acquiescing to her every wish with barely a murmur of dissent. She might perhaps have understood such a rebellion from Emily, but not her beloved, obedient Constance. ‘Poor Mother talked of the disgrace to her name and you would have thought Con had done some real crime. She was quite ill over it and is still very seedy and upset. I am truly sorry for her, but I feel more sorry for Con that at her age she may not follow her own principles,’ Emily wrote to Edwin, with generosity, and perhaps even a hint of regret that she wasn’t sharing in the drama. Edwin, though, would clearly not have allowed it: ‘I do feel mightily sympathetic for angel mother, Connie being mixed in print with such a crew of notorious rioters – and I sympathise Connie [sic] too, but Mrs P. Lawrence is so very very second rate and I suppose they are all like it.’30 (A recent arrival to the upper classes, Edwin could not afford the Lytton unconventionality and as a consequence always seems much stuffier than his in-laws.) There is no doubt that Edith had made many emotional demands on Constance, and Constance had, until this point, let her. But it is too easy to make Edith into the villain of Constance’s story. Few mothers would react well to the news that their middle-aged daughter had suddenly taken to political protest, provoking the police and jaunting off to prison (unless they were Emmeline Pankhurst). Yet Edith always welcomed Constance back home after her suffragette adventures and was deeply worried about the impact on Constance’s frail health. She was uninterested in votes for women but did care about women’s rights and fervently wished to see women ordained in the church.31 She wrote to Constance: