“Corker. Please write often. Hearing from you too good to be true. Letters like what rain would have been on April 16. Suffrage1 and get over it. No game for you. Don’t get hurt again. Writing.
“Tay.”
Julia found this cablegram on her table when she returned on the following evening from the House of Commons. Its extravagance relaxed the angry tension of her mind, and she could imagine no future moment in which she would be in a more fitting mood to answer it. She removed her battered2 hat, washed the dirt and blood from her hands and face, and her pen was soon flying over large sheets of the W. S. P. U.
“Long before you get this you will have read in the newspapers the more sensational3 details of to-day’s encounter between the Militants4 and the police, and of its abominable5 sequel; but there are details the newspapers never print, and when I relate a few of them perhaps you will understand why I am not likely to lose sympathy with this cause. Besides, to-day, I have a grievance6 of my own which has put me in such a state of fury that if I couldn’t relieve my mind in a letter to you, I should probably go out and get into more trouble.
“You will have read that twenty of our number, including Mrs. Pankhurst, Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, and Mrs. Cobden Sanderson, succeeded in obtaining entrance to the Lobby of the House of Commons, sent for the Chief Liberal Whip, and persuaded him to go to the Prime Minister and ask if he intended to do anything during this session toward the enfranchisement7 of women. The Prime Minister sent word back that the Government had no intention of giving the vote to women during their term of office.
“How many times have they gone to that Lobby full of hope, inspired by the justice of their cause—however, sentimentalizing is not in our line. This was the most direct rebuff they had received, and they made up their minds to hold a meeting of protest then and there. One of the women sprang upon a settee and began to address the others. The police had been watching for a signal. In five minutes they had dragged and driven the women out of the Lobby, knocking Mrs. Pankhurst down, and mauling Mrs. Lawrence and the rest in their usual fashion. When the women waiting outside saw how their comrades were being handled, they rushed forward, and soon were engaged in a hand-to-hand encounter with the police. Even those that merely spoke9 to the women of the deputation were struck or arrested. Seven were dragged off to the police station, and a few moments later, Mrs. Cobden Sanderson, knowing that Mrs. Lawrence was ill, and not willing that the girls should go to gaol10 without an older woman, managed to get herself arrested.
“Of course, you want to know what I was doing all this time. That is what I am writing to tell you, for therein lies my grievance. And let me tell you that I have a red-haired temper, quite out of tune11 with princesses on towers. You might as well know me as I am and not romance about me any more.
“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 watchful12 police, and the Inspector13 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 minor14 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 exclusion15. The duke may despise the present Government, but he had not scrupled16 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 persistence17, some jeering18 and making abominable jokes, our women standing19 as erect20 and patient as soldiers, with eager set faces, ready to fight if need be, but quite as ready to disperse21 peaceably if their deputation were treated with respect—well, suddenly the doors were flung open and out tumbled a medley22 of women and police. Mrs. Pankhurst, with closed eyes and rigid23 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 posterity24 to gape25 at!
“Of course we made a rush for our friends and leaders, inspired with precisely26 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 brutality27, 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 dispersed28 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 demonstration29 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 abominably30 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, scowled31, 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 enraged32 me that I flew at another policeman and struck him, determined33 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, devoured34 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 martyrs35 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 exterminate36 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 awakening37. In spite of the tremendous increase in our numbers during the past year, and the interest we have aroused, our recruits are a mere8 handful when compared with the female population of Great Britain, in general. Not until all, or at least three-fourths, of those women have awakened38 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 potently39 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 chafe40. 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 immortal41 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.”
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1
suffrage
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| n.投票，选举权，参政权 | |
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2
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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3
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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4
militants
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| 激进分子，好斗分子( militant的名词复数 ) | |
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5
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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6
grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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7
enfranchisement
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| 选举权 | |
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8
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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9
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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10
gaol
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| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
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11
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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12
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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13
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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14
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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15
exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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16
scrupled
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| v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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18
jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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21
disperse
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| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
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22
medley
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| n.混合 | |
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23
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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24
posterity
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| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
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25
gape
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| v.张口，打呵欠，目瞪口呆地凝视 | |
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26
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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27
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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28
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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29
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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30
abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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31
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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33
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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34
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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35
martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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36
exterminate
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| v.扑灭，消灭，根绝 | |
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37
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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38
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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39
potently
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40
chafe
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| v.擦伤；冲洗；惹怒 | |
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41
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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