16 Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton, p. 258, and Brian Harrison interview with Lady Hermione Cobbold, 8SUF/B/107.
17 Constance Lytton to Daisy Solomon, 20 February 1913, 9/21/32 LSE Library collections.
18 Constance Lytton to Friends, 24 February 1913, 9/21/36 LSE Library collections.
19 Note in the MSS, Knebworth Archive.
20 Bertha Brewster, Daily Telegraph, 26 February 1913, quoted in Joyce Marlow: Votes for Women: The Virago Book of Suffragettes, p. 182.
21 Quoted in Joyce Marlow, Votes for Women: The Virago Book of Suffragettes, p. 205.
22 Jill Liddington, Rebel Girls: Their Fight for the Vote, p. 269.
23 J. F. Geddes, ‘Culpable Complicity: The medical profession and the forcible feeding of suffragettes’, in Women’s History Review, Vol. 17, No. 1 (2008), p. 89.
24 Constance Lytton to Adela Smith, 20 May 1913, in Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton, p. 241.
25 Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton, p. 242. This is a bit surprising as Olive Schreiner remained in England during the First World War and did not return to South Africa until 1920; presumably their respective illnesses kept them apart.
26 Jill Liddington, Rebel Girls, p. 275.
27 Christabel Pankhurst, Unshackled, p. 243.
28 Emmeline Pankhurst, My Own Story, p. 316.
29 http://womanandhersphere.com/2012/08/06/suffrage-stories—
what-else-is-in-emily-wilding-davisons-grave, accessed 14 January 2015.
30 The Times, 11 March 1914, quoted in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography.
31 Constance Lytton to Alice Ker, 19 March 1914, 9/21/34 LSE Library collections. Annie is not named, perhaps in case the letter was intercepted, but I cannot believe she means anyone else.
32 Katherine Connelly: Sylvia Pankhurst, pp. 54–8 and Asquith quoted on p. 66.
33 Constance Lytton, Prisons and Prisoners, p. 336–7.
34 For a full discussion of the significance of suffragette autobiography 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 & Francis, 1995), p. 32 onwards.
35 See Constance Lytton, I, Constance Lytton (privately printed, 1987), introduction.
36 In an unpublished notebook, primarily about her nurse, quoted in Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton, p. 240. Unfortunately, Betty did not publish any of these letters, nor are any in Constance’s file at Knebworth.
37 Constance Lytton to Teresa Earle, 20 March 1914, in Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton, p. 241.
38 Lady Lytton’s note in her copy of Prisons and Prisoners, a gift from Constance. This is in the Knebworth Archive.
39 Philip Burne-Jones to Betty Balfour, 10–14 March 1914, Balfour Papers, National Archives of Scotland, GD433/2/347/31–3. Burne-Jones was angry at the attacks on works of art.
40 Annie Matheson to Betty Balfour, 7 March 1914, Balfour Papers, National Archives of Scotland, GD433/2/347/34.
41 Sylvia Pankhurst, The Suffragette Movement, p. 333.
42 Christabel Pankhurst, Unshackled, p. 288.
43 Quoted in Kate Adie, Fighting on the Home Front: The Legacy of Women in World War One (Hodder & Stoughton, 2014), p. 295.
44 Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton, p. 245.
45 Constance Lytton to Miss Robins, 19 April 1914, 9/21/35 and Constance Lytton to Kitty Marion, in Kitty Marion’s unpublished autobiography, p. 264, 7/KMA LSE Library collections.
46 Kitty Marion’s unpublished autobiography, p. 319, Women’s Library 7/KMA.
47 It was actually Rachel Peace’s case that clarified the distinction between ‘considered dangerous’ = forcefed and ‘considered safe’ = let out under the Cat and Mouse Act. See Hansard for 16 February 1914, Vol. 58, cc. 573–4. See also J. F. Geddes, ‘Culpable Complicity: The medical profession and the forcible feeding of suffragettes’ in Women’s History Review, Vol. 17, No. 1 (2008), p. 87.
48 Emmeline Pethick-Lawrence to Mrs Solomon, 13 June 1923, Women’s Library 9/20/07.
49 Neville Lytton, The English Country Gentleman, p. 270.
50 Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton, p. 256.
51 Michelle Myall, Flame and Burnt Offering, p. 271.
52 Neville Lytton, The English Country Gentleman p. 279.
53 Emily Lutyens to Edwin Lutyens, 26 November 1919, quoted in Clayre Percy and Jane Ridley, The Letters of Edwin Lutyens to his wife Lady Emily, p. 373.
54 Constance Lytton to Adela Smith, 29 July 1915, in Betty Balfour (ed.), Letters of Constance Lytton, p. 248.
55 Hannah Mitchell, quoted in Joyce Marlow, Votes for Women: The Virago Book of Suffragettes, p. 55.
56 Figures are from Frank Meeres, Suffragettes, pp. 7–8.
57 Jill Liddington, Selina Cooper, p. 284.
58 Christabel Pankhurst, Unshackled, p. 294.
59 Unpublished notebook, Knebworth Archive.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE PRICE OF VICTORY
‘It is extraordinary that the spirit of the Militant Movement has been so little understood, and I wonder whether in years to come those who study history will realise the significance of it?’1
It is well documented that winning the vote did not change women’s lives as much as the suffragettes had hoped. If anything, there was a backlash after the war, as women were expected to return home and allow soldiers to return to their jobs. But however much men – and even some women – may have wished for the old certainties and the old divisions, the world had changed for ever. Many of the suffragettes were too mentally, physically, emotionally and financially drained by their efforts to continue political activity.
Sylvia Pankhurst was perhaps the most significant exception to this rule, working tirelessly for socialism and, later, independence for Ethiopia, where she is still revered. Emmeline Pethick-Lawrence devoted the rest of her life to international peace. Fred became a respected senior member of the Labour Party in the House of Lords and, when Emmeline died, married another suffragette. Jessie Kenney qualified as the first female wireless telegraph operator. Constance and David Lloyd George gave her references for the training but, as a woman, she was unable to find a job and eventually became a school administrator. Emmeline Pankhurst spent several years recovering in Canada with the children she had adopted during the war, but struggled to manage in her old age and they were taken in by other families. Back in England, she was persuaded to become Conservative candidate for Whitechapel but died in 1928 before the election was held. Christabel had stood as a candidate in the postwar election but did not win. She became a fervent believer that the Second Coming was imminent and spent the rest of her life in America. Annie Kenney surprised everyone by getting married, having a son and living a quiet family life in Hertfordshire. Constance was delighted to hear about the wedding and sent Annie a white sapphire brooch she had worn pinned above her hunger strike medal during the suffrage campaign.2
As a result, few of the women who influenced the political debates in the years immediately after the vote had been won had been militants. Rather, they had been suffragists and, generally speaking, were those who had never put all their faith in the vote but had only seen it as one goal among many. (The first woman MP, Nancy Astor, however, was not associated with the women’s movement at all, while the first Cabinet member, Margaret Bondfield, had strongly supported adult suffrage rather than the votes for women campaign.)
These years have sometimes been seen as a period of stagnation and fragmentation for the women’s movement. Without the struggle for the vote unifying women, it is argued, the movement found it difficult to match the postwar conservative forces urging women back home. In fact, progress may have been quieter and less dramatic, but there were still many advances to be celebrated. Pioneers entered new professions in the law, in veterinary science, and in engineering. Leg
al changes gave women new rights over their children and their property. New organisations like the Six Point Group, led by Lady Rhondda (a former suffragette, still excluded from the House of Lords because she was a woman), worked for equality for women across a wide range of fields. It wasn’t the radical transformation of society that the visionary suffragettes had hoped for, but it was a start.
Towards the end of 1919, Constance’s doctor found what she believed to be a cyst. There were fears it was cancerous. Her general condition also worsened: her breathlessness became more difficult to manage.3 Her heart condition meant the doctors were reluctant to use anaesthetics when removing the cyst and so she was simply given localised painkillers. Fortunately, she was able to stay at Homewood for the operation. She also liked the fact that the surgeon was a woman.4 She was prepared to die, and even welcomed the prospect as a relief from her constant suffering. ‘I am so tired of life,’ she told Adela. ‘I have long hoped to die, and since I’ve seen this possible road, I have felt most wonderfully happy.’5 She did not die, and in fact everything went as well as could be expected. The cyst was not cancerous, though it was huge: the doctor said as big as a head, the nurse said as large as a football.6 In January 1920, she had a visit from Ethel Smyth who wrote admiringly in the visitors’ book: ‘In memory of an impression of pluck that most certainly will Remain!’7
Olive Schreiner, demoralised and weak, died in 1920. Her marriage had been unhappy and she rarely lived with her husband, using her illness as an excuse to avoid him. She always remained devoted to Constance and, after twenty-five years of friendship, still called her ‘one of the most beautiful souls the Gods ever made’.8 Olive became disillusioned with the suffragettes, and sided with Sylvia and Emmeline Pethick-Lawrence when they were cast out of the WSPU. A lifelong pacifist, Olive was outraged by Emmeline and Christabel’s strategy in the First World War, writing, ‘They have lost nearly all their suffragette following so they have had to take up war to keep themselves before the public.’9 Constance wrote her obituary for Time and Tide. ‘She was the first woman I had known with a wide horizon,’ Constance wrote, with deep regret.10
To the best of her limited abilities, Constance took up new causes once the vote was won. One of these was, unsurprisingly, women in politics. Constance was delighted that women were able to stand as candidates for election. She raised funds to help some she knew or liked, as well as donating her own money. At one time, Emily vaguely flirted with the idea of standing for Labour. Constance was also drawn to the noble ideals of the League of Nations, seeing it as a guarantor of future peace. Robert Cecil, the driving force of the League of Nations in Britain, was a cousin and colleague of Arthur Balfour’s; his wife Nelly was a friend of Betty. Constance and Robert corresponded over the League and she set up a local branch to support it.11
She was also extremely interested in birth control and its potential to improve the lives of working-class women. So when Marie Stopes wrote asking for her support, Constance was only too pleased to help. They actually shared a publisher: A. C. Fitfield had published Constance’s pamphlet ‘No Votes for Women’ back in 1909 as well as Married Love and Stopes’s other early work. Fitfield had been unable to keep up with demand for these books.12 On the back of her massive literary success, Marie was proposing to set up the first birth control clinic in Britain, and accordingly wrote to many of the great and good to ask for their assistance. Constance may have been particularly pleased to know that it would be in Holloway, only a short walk from the prison. Constance, of course, had only one asset, but freely gave permission for Marie to use it. ‘You may certainly use my name as a patron for the “Mother’s Clinic,”’ she said, enthusiastically, and asked for a copy of Married Love. Emily was asked too, but turned the offer down, saying, ‘It is a very difficult subject, and I have not yet made up my own mind upon it.’13
From then on, Constance and Marie were regular, if infrequent, correspondents. Constance was an ideal ‘name’ for Marie to have on her list: part of her mission was to make birth control something that ‘respectable’ women, not just prostitutes, might use.14 Marie sent many invitations for Constance to go and see the clinic in action: Constance always regretfully turned her down on the grounds of ill health. There was a huge meeting at the end of May 1921 at the Queen’s Hall, scene of so many suffragette set-pieces, and Constance was extremely sorry she could not attend. Later in 1921, she became a vice-president of Marie’s new Society for Constructive Birth Control and Racial Progress.15 There is no suggestion that Constance shared Marie’s more dubious concerns about eugenics and racial purity. She simply believed, rightly, that the lives of working-class women would be easier if they had fewer children. ‘It has been practised in our family and by their numerous friends for 3 generations,’ she told Marie, with casual honesty.16 She tried to enlist her siblings to the new cause, just as she had done with suffrage. After reading Married Love, Victor was interested enough to tell Marie, through Constance, that he’d also like to help her. Emily had by now decided that birth control was incompatible with her religion, though, perhaps remembering her own horrible honeymoon, gave her daughter a copy of Married Love.17 Constance pondered how she might get Betty, the most ‘respectable’ of the sisters, to sign up to the movement.18
This epistolary friendship gives hints of one of the more bizarre episodes in Constance’s life. It seems that her valuable name was being used by a fraudster called ‘George Blackshaw’ as surety at Liberty’s. Then he used her name to gain an introduction to Marie Stopes, and wangled money out of her too. He was arrested and jailed. Constance was extremely apologetic to Marie, and offered to pay her back the money she had lost. But the story does not end there. She invited Blackshaw up to Homewood to see if she could make him see the error of his ways, telling Marie, ‘He must be a rather clever man and it is a pity that he should spend his time in & out of prison.’ Rather surprisingly, he came and they ended up in what Constance naively saw as friendship. When Marie Stopes was involved in a libel trial the following year, Constance asked George to report back on the proceedings. It ended badly, though, with Constance once more apologising to Marie. George had been bothering Marie by pretending to know her and spreading false rumours. ‘I am going to see him on Wednesday,’ Constance said, ‘and will do my best to recommend to him to keep away from your appeal case. It is tremendously annoying.’ It is no wonder that her family thought she was always being taken in.19 Marie had lost her trial and the unwelcome reappearance of George Blackshaw was the last thing she needed. Constance wrote to Lady Astor to see if she might intervene for Marie Stopes in the judicial proceedings; after some hesitation, Lady Astor actually did so, but was too late and the verdict had already been declared.20
This generation of Lyttons were not leaders but they were dedicated followers. They sought out inspiring individuals to serve, offering total faith and devotion, to sometimes very unorthodox causes. They had a strong desire to be ‘modern’, to be part of progressive movements and sometimes fell into fads instead. Collectively, they yearned for fulfilment and answers to spiritual questions in something other than their mother’s conventional religion.
Some of the Lytton causes have stood the test of time better than others. Constance, of course, found her calling in the suffragettes and her leaders in Emmeline and Christabel Pankhurst: history is very much on her side. But Betty was involved with the Society for Psychical Research; Gerald was the president and their home was the headquarters. Not content with immersing herself wholeheartedly in Theosophy, Emily became a devoted disciple of its chosen leader, an Indian boy named Krishnamurti. Emily loved Krishnamurti; at first maternally and later wholeheartedly. She took to following him around the world, with her younger children in tow, much to Edwin’s disgust. She seems only to have escaped becoming the black sheep of the family because of Constance’s criminal record. But Victor’s guru was an American named Homer Lane, and his belief in Lane’s abilities had tragic consequences for Constance.
George Montagu, who later became the Earl of Sandwich, was a friend of Victor Lytton. Like many progressive Edwardians (and indeed, like Constance), he was deeply concerned about the harshness and ineffectiveness of English prisons, and persuaded his uncle to lend him land that could be used for an experiment to set up a more liberal institution for young offenders. Homer Lane, who was known in America for his work with young people, both in schools and prisons, was invited first to be a consultant on the project and then to run it. The Little Commonwealth was opened in 1913. It was a combination of farm and group home, designed to be democratic and to give the young people a sense of control over their lives. Victor was the chairman of the General Committee.21
Lane was not just a prison reformer and teacher: he saw himself as a new messiah, blessed with a unique understanding of scripture and of God’s will.22 As this suggests, he was a charlatan through and through. While his ideas on education were undoubtedly forward-thinking, the truth is that he exploited his position running the Little Commonwealth. His relationships with the vulnerable teenage girls in his care were at very best questionable but almost certainly sexual. In 1917, rumours began to circle in the local community that Lane was sleeping with some of the girls. A meeting to discuss the issue collapsed in acrimony. Lane then went on holiday; unbelievably, he took some of the other girls with him. When some of his original accusers ran away, the police were brought in. This prompted a full-scale Home Office inquiry, and though the results have never been published, the Little Commonwealth was closed.23 Lane’s biographer excuses him by saying that ‘the girls were above the age of consent, and nothing that they alleged against Lane was actionable’,24 though this is hardly a vindication. Lane did himself no favours with a cod-psychology defence in which he blamed a failure of the ‘transference’ process: the girls were supposed to ‘transfer’ their allegiance to the Commonwealth but something had gone wrong and they had accidentally transferred to him instead. Victor believed wholeheartedly in his innocence, and put most of the trouble down to Lane’s perverse habit of refusing to co-operate with authority.25 He resigned from the Little Commonwealth committee in protest at Lane’s treatment. Lane seems to have been a powerful and hypnotic personality: none of his influential friends saw through him, and they were so convinced of his goodness that they ignored all evidence to the contrary.
Lady Constance Lytton Page 27