CHAPTER XVI

HOLLOWAY REVISITED: MY FOURTH IMPRISONMENT

I determined that I would do my work alone. I was afraid that, if I combined with others, I might fail them, through illness, when they counted on me. Some days later Miss Lawless said she would come too, and, as she kindly chose to do the job with me, all was well. I selected a post office window in Victoria Street, on the left-hand side, facing Westminster. I went to buy some stamps there the day before to make sure of my bearings. I studied all the windows where it would be safe, and where not safe, to do the work of smashing without hurting anyone inside.

A friend, Mrs. MacLeod, came to see me the evening before, November 20, 1911. She brought me flowers, lovely lilies-of-the-valley and two bunches of violets. She told me she had bought them in Piccadilly from a girl that was sitting round the fountain. “They are for a friend of mine who is going to fight for the women to-morrow”; she wasn’t sure she had said it in a way the girl could understand. “Oh! May God bless her, God bless them all! Here, lady, take this extra bunch of violets for her.” She called this out enthusiastically, as she collected the flowers.

This time I had a small hammer as well as three stones wrapped in paper. The hammer, of course, was the safest as well as the most efficient of my tools, but one had to be quite near to the window in order to use it. Another dear friend, Dr. Alice Ker, came to me from Liverpool on the day, Tuesday, November 21. She was coming to the fray in Westminster, but she did not wish to get arrested. Towards six o’clock we took a taxi and went together to the beginning of Victoria Street. Then we got out and each went our own way. I walked up and down the street, first along one side, then along the other, and I inspected the side parallel streets. Victoria Street I had always supposed was rather a long one, but on this occasion it was infinitely short, and I seemed to pass the same people over and over again. Once I jumped into a ’bus to go up again towards Westminster, and there I came across many of my friends, who doubtless were going to the preliminary meeting at Caxton Hall. At last when standing, as it seemed to me, for the fiftieth time in front of a door with pillars, which was our trysting place, I met Miss Lawless and soon after Miss Douglas Smith, who had said she would join us for a little, as she had to go to all who were “active” in Victoria Street. We turned into a “Lyons” for some tea, the whole place was full of our friends and a detective or two. A cat was there; she came to lie on my lap and I had to turn her off when we left.

The time was getting near; we were to wait until the clock struck 8; we were none of us to move before and not much later. At last there was a noise of many people coming round the corner of a street; it was Mrs. Pethick Lawrence walking at the head of her Deputation. A large crowd surrounded them and cheered them on their way to Westminster. Miss Lawless and I had taken up our position already on the steps leading to the post office we had selected. As soon as the Deputation had passed, the clock of Big Ben began striking eight. I said, “I can wait no longer,” and I turned and smashed the glass of two doors and one window. I raised my arms and did it deliberately, so that every one in the street could see. Miss Lawless smashed the windows to my right. We were going down the steps and I was afraid no policemen had been near, when two came from over the way. All was peaceable and friendly. My policeman said to me with a smile, “I’ll take you this way, lady, see? And that won’t inconvenience you.” With that he adjusted his grasp at my elbow. I said to him: “Unless you are obliged, don’t hurry your pace more than you can help,” and he walked at my pace through Westminster to Cannon Row. He also disarmed me, taking my hammer. In Westminster the crowd was immense and at the bottom of Whitehall, but we got through all right, and Miss Lawless kept close behind me.

Cannon Row was already crowded with women. We stood in a closely packed ring to give our names, and afterwards our names were called out before we went upstairs. To my surprise and great delight Lady Sybil Smith was there. I knew she herself had been wishing to go on a deputation for some time. We were taken into the cells to be searched, but this was not the grim business that it sounds. We were left to walk quite by ourselves; a policeman showed us in and we were put four or five together in a cell. The door was left open, and a wardress asked respectfully if she might search us. We said, “Yes, most certainly,” and began to deliver up our stones. The wardress’s face was all kindness, and no sooner had the policeman gone away from the door than she burst out with: “Oh! you ladies, I’d be with you to-morrow if it weren’t for my child. I am a widow with one child. If only these politicians knew what that meant! They can talk fine about the widow, but when it comes to her earning a livelihood they don’t help her.” It seemed wonderful, she understood. Meanwhile she was picking out the stones from our pockets. We were allowed to go back to the central room as soon as it was finished, we left a friend behind us in the wardress. Upstairs, in the policemen’s billiard room, we sat in crowds, and everything was noticeably different from last time. All was joy and triumph, and there seemed the echo of these from the street. I felt quite an old hand, and was going about the room collecting telegrams; I had bought a packet of forms on the chance. A policeman was singled out and stood waiting for them in a meek and respectful attitude. One woman, who looked about sixty or sixty-five, had written a telegram but had put no signature; I asked if there was to be none. She hesitated for a moment and then added: “Well--put Mother.” I thought it must be rather trying when it was a “daughter,” but much more when it was a “mother,” and she getting on in years. There was a girl lying down in the window recess where I had gone with my cough last time; she was ashy pale. I went up to her and asked her if she felt ill. Her face immediately lit up with a radiant smile--“I’m not ill now, but I have been for three months.” I said how wonderful was the feeling of the movement, as one realised the difference which a year had made it was impossible that one should feel depressed, though one might be depressed for oneself. “No,” she said, “I am never depressed now.” Had she a mother? “Oh! mother would be here too, only she is a cripple.”

Mrs. Pethick Lawrence had come and was given a great cheer. She looked well and beamingly happy. The Deputation had been much more hustled about than we who had done damage, but still, there was no real roughness that I could hear of, and they had been arrested comparatively quickly. Mr. Lawrence’s welcome face came and he bailed us out, though it was a long business this time. When we drove away, every window in Whitehall bore the mark of the women upon it, with the unmistakable smashing, till it looked, as I passed, as though every window smiled.

On Wednesday, November 22, I sent off a telegram, saying that I was arrested, to our organiser at Liverpool for a meeting at which I was going to speak. It was a joint meeting of W.S.P.U., National Unionist and Conservative Suffragists; Lord Selborne was to speak for the Conservatives. It had been arranged when we were at peace with the Government; that peace was now at an end. I then went to Bow Street. There were crowds of women; we each took luggage and wraps, for under Mr. Winston Churchill’s new rule we were allowed to wear our own day and night clothes, and not obliged to have prison food. There was no difference in being allowed to see visitors or have letters. Books not dealing with current events were allowed, but one could not take them out of prison. At Bow Street we were put into the big room upstairs; again a policemen’s billiard room. Large as it was, it was very crowded, and I kept my seat on my luggage in the passage outside. Amongst others, there was a little American woman, whose husband stuck by her like a man till he should be separated by imprisonment. They had been in India, had heard much there about the Suffragettes, and one lady with whom they had dined had warned him against his wife becoming one of them. I saw there two Hertfordshire members, which did my heart good, when I remembered that a little time ago the whole county was asleep. Whenever I was able, I sat back on my luggage and wrote letters; it was the only way I could escape from talking to everyone, which was most delightful but I was very tired. We waited all day to learn in the evening that we must return to-morrow. I went to my mother from Bow Street who was staying in London at that time.

Three times this autumn, after making a speech, I had been taken with heart-seizure and incapacitated for about a quarter of an hour. On Thursday morning, November 23, I was ill, on waking, with a heart collapse. In spite of my best efforts, I could scarcely hold up my head or speak. Mrs. Francis Smith, one of my dearest friends, had come to my rooms to see how I was, and she determined to call at Bow Street and find out for me if I could not put off going there till the afternoon. She came back, saying that she had had an interview with Inspector A----, who had already shown great kindness to me, and he had said I was not to trouble about the morning, that it would do quite well if I came in the afternoon. I lay down on my bed till nearly 2 o’clock, when I felt much better. Then I went to Bow Street. The woman who did my room came with me and carried my luggage; she also fetched me milk into the police station. She knew several of the policeman personally, so she managed everything very easily. I went on a deputation with Mrs. Haverfield and Mrs. Mansell-Moulin to Inspector A----, to say that unless the women could be told on leaving whether they would be wanted the next day, they would not go away. As this meant finding cells for all of us--we were 220 women in all--probably we should have to be put four or five in a cell together; it was speedily arranged and we were told that night when we should be wanted; I was one of those who came the following day. I went again that evening to my mother.

The next morning, Friday, November 24, I woke all right and went to Bow Street quite happily. Before our trial we were taken down into the passage next the police court, and put _vis-à-vis_ to the policemen who had arrested us, as at my first trial. The magistrate was Sir Albert de Rutzen, who was too old for his work. Miss Lawless was accused with me. The hammers and stones were shown in witness against us, and the damage estimated at £3 15_s_. Mr. Muskett, the prosecutor, in totalling up my record, mentioned that I had been to Holloway after a deputation to the House of Commons, and in Newcastle I was imprisoned for throwing a stone at a motor car, but he did not mention “Jane Warton” at Liverpool. When I reminded him that he had left her out, he said testily, “Well, I’m very glad if I have.” I said it was quite true that I used a hammer and stones to break windows. I realised that this was the only effective means of protest left to us by a Government which boasts of Liberalism and representation where men are concerned, but ignores the elementary principles of representation where women are concerned. Votes and riot are the only form of appeal to which this Government will respond. They refuse us votes, we fall back on riot. The wrongs they inflict on women are intolerable, and we will no longer tolerate them---- Here the magistrate interrupted me; he could not enter into a discussion on the subject, and referred to the fact that Mr. Asquith had received a deputation last Friday. I said, “I heard Mr. Asquith say he would do nothing in regard to women.” The magistrate then advocated peaceful agitation. I answered that this Government have said they will do absolutely nothing as a Government, and Mr. Asquith is exactly where he was in 1908; all our peaceful agitation has been valueless in his eyes. I said that although we committed the acts alleged, we were not guilty of crime, our conduct being fully justified by the circumstances of the case. “I appeal to you, Sir, to vindicate the fundamental laws of liberty which our country has revered for generations,” and with that I concluded. Miss Leslie Lawless said that if to fight for one’s liberty was a crime, she was guilty, but she pleaded not guilty, as that was the only protest that this Government understood. Our sentence was one of a fine of 40_s._ and 37_s._ 6_d._ damage each, or fourteen days’ imprisonment--half the sentence that I had received when I went to the House of Commons, doing absolutely nothing and being mauled by the police.

We were not put into the cells, but again taken upstairs to a room close to the larger one. There was my friend, Adela Smith, with Olive Schreiner’s friend, Mrs. Purcell, and Mrs. Tudor, of St. Albans. All these were not among the condemned, but had been let in to see their friends. Towards half-past five Inspector A---- came and told me that presently a taxi would be round to take me to Holloway, that there would be a policeman inside, but that the other two could be any “fellow criminals” I liked. I at once chose Mrs. Leigh, who had been condemned to two months’ imprisonment, though she was said only to have struck a policeman in defence of another woman. I was immensely proud to take her with me. I also chose Miss Lawless. The policeman was in plain clothes and very amiable. Miss Lawless discovered that she had left her purse behind. We went back for it, and, on arriving at Bow Street, I decided that the constable should get out with Miss Lawless, put her in charge of another policeman, then return and mount guard on us. He was delighted to do this. From the point of view of our safety, of course, nothing could have been more absurd; we were not in the courtyard of the police-station, and nothing would have been easier than to open the door the other side of the pavement and, with the noise of the street, Mrs. Leigh or I could have escaped. But it was understood all round that this was not the game, and we waited quietly for the policeman to return and, finally, Miss Lawless and the purse.

At Holloway all was civility; it was unrecognisable from the first time I had been there. There were no reception cells for us, but we were taken at once to our separate cells in D X, where, after a time the Matron, and afterwards the doctor came to see us. Nothing could have been more charming than the Matron--another woman than had been there before. She asked me at once after Miss Davison; was she coming this time? The Matron had been at Manchester when the hose-pipe had been played on her. This she asked before two wardresses, and in a voice of sympathetic intonation. I said I did not think she was coming this time, but it would not be long probably before she was in prison again. Then came Dr. Sullivan. His manner was kind, as it had always been, but I no longer felt the same towards him since he had fed some of the prisoners by force. He said at once, after testing my heart, that I could not stay there, but must go at once to hospital. I said I was much more comfortable where I was than in the general ward, and that I could not sleep there. He said he meant to put me in a cell apart. I was then moved over to the hospital side. There on the ground floor was the superintendent officer I had known before. I smiled, but she looked as if she did not recognise me. She went with me upstairs. “I believe,” I said, as she opened a door, “it is the very same cell I had before.” “No,” she answered, “the one next door,” and her reserve, to my great delight, broke down. I unpacked my flannel sheets, my flannel nightgown, and my long bed-socks, and made myself ready for the night. It was almost unbelievable to have so much comfort in a place which before had been the very acme of discomfort. They brought me a pint mug of milk and a small white loaf before the night. It was about eight o’clock by the time I got to bed, but the hours, I supposed, were the same as they had been in Holloway before, and besides, I was dead tired.

The next day, Saturday, November 25, I felt ill in the morning. The prison was scarce of food--at least, there were no vegetables; they gave me bread and butter and a pudding for luncheon. The Governor came, Dr. Scott, and he was amiability itself, I was only to take care of myself. Since all was made easy, I stayed in bed that day.

The girl who was let in to wash my floor was fair-haired, with a most pleasant and intelligent face. I longed to know about her, but a wardress stood at the door looking on at her work all the time, and I did not once catch her eye. On Sunday, November 26, I felt no better and again stayed in bed. The second doctor, a new man, who was pleasant in his manner, came to see me. In the morning when I had been let out to the sink, the little prisoner who washed my floor met me coming out. My back was turned for a moment; she patted my shoulder and said, in a tone of voice of utmost comfort, “Cheer up!” By the time I looked round she was off somewhere else and no one would have supposed that she had communicated with me. After that I was determined to get some snatch conversation with her when she was in my cell. When she washed out that morning, I said to her--it was always the first thing--“How long have you got?” “Three years,” was the answer. This greatly surprised me, for Holloway was not the place for long sentences, but I could not ask her then, there was not time to tell, only time for bare questions and answers. I asked, “What was it for?” “Stealing my mother’s skirt,” she said. This was more startling than ever. Where was the mother’s skirt one could “steal”? But the wardress looked in and we were obliged to stop. On another occasion she told me that she had been very ill on first coming to Holloway, and that was why she had been kept there. Another time she slipped this notice under the door, and signalled to me by opening the gas-jet glass from the passage. On one side of the little torn bit of paper was written, “Z-- A--, Boardstil Institution, Hailsbray”; on the other side, “I shall be glad to hear from you because I have no friends at all and it will cheer me up.” I longed to speak to her, but I did not see her again after this. It was my last morning in prison when she put this paper under the door. After I came out I, of course, wrote to her, thanked her for her cheering words to me, asked if I might go and see her, and sent her a little 3_d._ book of extracts from my father’s poems. I sent these to the chaplain at Aylesbury and asked him if he would deliver them. He sent my letter back, saying that he would not be allowed to give it, for she had already chosen as her correspondent her grandmother or some old lady. I do not know anything of her, of her failings or virtues; I only know that there was no loosening the net that clung round her so tightly for three years.

On Sunday, November 26, in the afternoon I went out to exercise. This was indeed a changed world. All of us assembled were walking about arm in arm, as we liked, in rows facing each other, or round the ground; some of us went apart in a little side-walk, all talking to one another, and all, of course, wearing our own clothes. One or two wardresses were there, but they were smiling all the time and chatted with us. One of them asked me why I had not come to visit Holloway. I told her that they would not allow “criminals” to come back except as prisoners, that I had tried in vain. She said I could come as someone who visited the cooking places, or something of that kind. I was afraid I was too well known in Holloway, as I had paid rather frequent visits to the Governor. I saw and walked with Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, arm in arm, and nothing that we did caused any disturbance.

On Monday, November 27, I stayed in bed again, and at about 11 o’clock the doctor came and offered me vegetable soup from outside, and massage from my masseur-doctor, Mr. May. I said surely that would not be allowed! He told me that of course in the ordinary course of things it was not allowed, but, if I wished for it, he would see what he could do. I refused all these offers, which were not, so far as I knew, offered to the others. I heard after my release, how my dear friends had put themselves about to get me all these things, and how my servant had brought soup to the prison every day, which she had made. I had a tin of biscuits sent in to me and some orange sweets. As I was not feeling well, I was unable to eat these, but I managed to give a good many to the girls who washed my cell. I only once got a look into the general ward. I saw Mrs. Mansell-Moullin, Mrs. Mansel and others, but it did not seem to be the thing for the prisoners from the cells to go into the general ward. That night Mrs. Mansel came in to see me from there. She and some others were to be released the next day. She had suffered from influenza and had a bad time of it while she was in prison. We had a long talk, and she gave me _The Man-made World_, by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, to read, as a wonderful book that had just come out. She was not allowed to take it out with her. The publisher, Mr. Fisher Unwin, had kindly sent me the book, but I had not yet had time to read it. I read it that night and found it all that she had said--a most remarkable book. It is dedicated to a man, showing that the woman’s movement has in it nothing, as is sometimes supposed, against men, but only against the vices of some men. In a chapter called “Crime and Punishment,” this passage struck me with intense truth: “Does a child offend? Punish it! Does a woman offend? Punish her! Does a man offend? Punish him! Does a group offend? Punish them! ‘What for?’ someone suddenly asks. ‘To make them stop doing it!’ ‘But they have done it.’ ‘To make them not do it again, then.’ ‘But they do it again and worse.’ ‘To prevent other people’s doing it, then.’ But it does not prevent them--the crime keeps on. What good is your punishment to crime? Its base, its prehistoric base, is simply retaliation.”

On Tuesday, November 28, I felt much better and went out to exercise in the morning. While there I was summoned to see the Governor. He told me that my fine had been paid anonymously and that I was free. Among my friends there is none that I can think of who would have paid my fine; my state of health, I suppose, after the forcible feeding, was “dangerous,” and it was thought safest to pay the fine “officially.” To my great surprise, the superintendent came with me to my flat. She was very dear but quite “official.” As I had packed up my things rather quickly, I felt ill and not inclined to talk much. She told me how very overworked the superintendent officers had been with the 220 Suffragette prisoners there were this time, she herself sometimes not getting to bed till one or two in the morning. She looked very tired and I felt very sorry for her. It seemed hard that, when they made us prisoners, so much extra work should fall upon the wardresses. When we reached the Duke’s Road, I did not like to ask her into my rooms, not knowing who would be there, so I said good-bye to her, kissed her, and begged her to take back the taxi at my expense. This, however, she refused to do; she preferred to go home by omnibus, and we parted at the front door. I went upstairs and found three of my friends. We were delighted to see each other, but they soon went away, and I rolled wearily into bed.

I frequently had to lie up during the winter and spring months that followed. On May 5, 1912, I had a stroke and my right arm was paralysed; also, slightly, my right foot and leg. I was taken from my flat to my sister Emily Lutyen’s house, and for many long months she and my mother and Dr. Marion Vaughan were kindness itself to me. From that day to this I have been incapacited for working for the Women’s Social and Political Union, but I am with them still with my whole soul.

And what is this which yet comes to us from the prisons? The torture of the “Cat-and-Mouse” Act and of forcible feeding! Oh! if only people could know what these things signify! But surely they must understand that they are barbarous practices such as we have not tolerated for long in our prisons. “Cat-and-Mouse” Act--what does it mean? The prisoner does not eat or drink, nothing to pass the lips; it may be three days, it may be a week, it may be nine days. Then the prisoner is let out, watched day and night, and taken back to prison, back to hunger and thirst, till she is again at death’s door. This they do twice, three times, four times, five times, till life is all but out. Not yet have the Government admitted that they will stop the “Cat-and-Mouse” torture short of death itself. And the forcible feeding--what is that? The only possible excuse for it is that it prolongs the prisoner’s sentence by so many days, so many weeks, and that is all. But heed what it is. I have described it exactly as it was done to me. See what it has meant in the recent case of Mary Richardson. It took eight wardresses and one man to overcome her. On two occasions it was said: “Twist her arms--the only way to unlock them.” They held her feet by pressing in the hollow of her ankles. Occasionally the doctor pressed her in the chest to hold her down. He announced that he was going to use the stomach tube. As he could not get through her teeth, he put his fingers to the extremity of her jaw, and with his finger-nail deliberately cut her gum and cheek until her mouth was bleeding badly. He then inserted the gag and stomach tube, but she was so choked by the process that he stopped the feeding, and said he would return to the nasal tube. This is inhuman, like the feeding of a beast--no, of an insentient thing. Where is the gain? A week or several weeks more of imprisonment, and you have let in torture to our form of punishment; yes, and repeated torture, for these prisoners are let out by the “Cat-and-Mouse” Act, and, on those ghastly terms, the police will mount guard on them to seize them again if, according to their judgment, they have regained sufficient fitness.

And why are these women imprisoned? Because they and many thousands, or rather several millions, of women with them, have asked for the vote, but the Government would not give it to them. For forty-five years women have supported their demand in Parliament for enfranchisement with ever increasing vigour. Petitions, processions, meetings and resolutions all over the country were infinitely greater in number than have been achieved for any other reform. When the Conciliation Bill was framed, women waited to see what the Government would do for them; the vote on the second reading of the Bill, for the second time, was immense. Women listened to the pledges of the Government and they seemed to hold out a certainty of the vote. Now, when these promises have all been broken, women have taken to burning empty houses, railway stations and stacks, though they have respected life and refrained from wounding, as men would do for far less a cause. Yes, and they will burn buildings until they are treated rationally as an equal part of the human race.

I hear the cry go up from all parts of the country, “How long? How long?” The time is fully ripe, when will women be represented in Parliament by the vote, equally with men?

BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.

SOME PRESS OPINIONS

“The author has written her book with a broadness of sympathy that adds dignity and conviction to a document of commendable frankness. It should serve as a presage of hope and reform for those who suffer by our present penal system; it also sheds much needed light on the hidebound officialism that is responsible for what Lady Constance Lytton has experienced and portrayed. This is, perhaps, the first time that the inequalities of treatment meted out to the rich and poor has been so clearly expressed in book form.” --_Athenæum._

“It is the clever and eloquent plea of a remarkable woman.” --_Pall Mall Gazette._

“_A deeply impressive work_ ... holds the attention from the first, and leaves an impression that is likely to prove indelible ... it is impossible to read this narrative without being struck by the sustained heroism that has been exhibited.” --_Daily Telegraph._

“This sincere and illuminating book ... an extremely fine and sensitive study of an English lady.” --_Westminster Gazette._

“A very moving and remarkable addition to the literature of the prison.... This unpretending and generous volume is likely to be one of the classic books of reference in regard to the sufferings of the revolutionary woman.” --_Daily News._

“One of the most fascinating books you ever read.” --_Manchester Courier._

“Her story is certainly impressive. As a piece of literature it is admirable, and as a contribution to our knowledge of what prison life is and of what its effect upon the individual may be it is important and valuable.” --_Liverpool Daily Post._

“Its direct and immediate appeal extends far beyond the confine of any movement, however significant and great. It is a story for all sorts and all conditions of women and men, irrespective of individual differences in matters of political and social faith.” --_Votes for Women._

“Constance Lytton is an incarnation of the Christ spirit, if ever there was one. The story of her deeds--the motive that inspired them--is worthy of being enshrined in the Sacred Books of the race.” --_Christian Commonwealth._

“... not politics but psychology, and a fluent and brilliant exposition it is.” --_Observer._

“... life itself, facts lived and suffered within the past year or two, an autobiography written with the tears and blood of a woman.... Her book is a tragic document which leaves a man sad and wondering.” --_Graphic._

A LIST OF

CURRENT FICTION

PUBLISHED BY

WILLIAM HEINEMANN

AT 21 BEDFORD ST., LONDON, W.C.

MR HEINEMANN will always be pleased to send periodically particulars of his forthcoming publications to any reader who desires them. In applying please state whether you are interested in works of Fiction, Memoirs, History, Art, Science, etc.

THE DARK FLOWER by JOHN GALSWORTHY

“Human emotion at the intensity that is begotten of conflict insoluble, and not merely of satiable and sated aspiration, is, at least, the novelist’s pre-occupation in this volume. And, like the old tragedians, he stands apart from his grim rendering of life, drawing no moral save that of pity and terror.... One need scarcely say that with this novel Mr. Galsworthy has added another to his series of powerful, vivid, and sincere studies of human nature. His characters stand out with the firmness of life.” --_Daily Telegraph._

Author of

MAN OF PROPERTY THE ISLAND PHARISEES THE PATRICIAN A MOTLEY COUNTRY HOUSE FRATERNITY THE INN OF TRANQUILITY MOODS, SONGS & DOGGERELS

MARRYING OF HESTER RAINSBROOK by J. A. REVERMORT

“This novel is permeated not only by real culture, but by genuine insight into character, and the romance of ‘Hester Rainsbrook’ with the man whose dark background she redeems is well worth reading. The minor characters, too, stand out in excellent perspective.” --_T.P.’s Weekly._

THE PERFECT WIFE by JOSEPH KEATING

“It is all written in the gayest, happiest spirit of light comedy ... the whole thing is cleverly and entertainingly done ... the story holds you interested and amused throughout.” --_The Bookman._

“It is a pure comedy ... it makes excellent and exciting and humorous reading. There is plenty of good character-drawing to boot, and the writing is simple and effective and often witty.... Mr. Keating has written a very entertaining story, and we are grateful to him.” --_Daily Chronicle._

THE MILKY WAY by F. TENNYSON JESSE

“A light-hearted medley, the spirit and picturesqueness of which the author cleverly keeps alive to the last act.” --_Times Literary Supplement._

“A book of youth and high spirits! That is the definition of this altogether delightful ‘Milky Way’ ... this wholly enchanting ‘Viv,’ her entourage ... as gay and irresponsible as herself.... Miss Tennyson Jesse has great gifts; skill and insight, candour, enthusiasm, and a pleasant way of taking her readers into her confidence ... the final impression is that she enjoyed writing her book just as much as this reviewer has enjoyed reading it.” --_Daily Mail._

INDISCRETIONS OF DR. CARSTAIRS by A. de O.

“The art of the short story is a rare one, and A. de O. not only possesses it in a general way, but adds to it what seems to be the skill of a specialist in the treatment of the professional motive inspiring all his tales ... he is undeniably entertaining.” --_Observer._

DIANA AND TWO SYMPHONIES by FRANCIS TOYE

“There is much in this novel that goes crash through sentimentalism, and there is some excellent characterisation ... the whole breathes such a clear desentimentalised air that it is invigorating.” --_Daily News and Leader._

“The hose of common sense is turned on the persisting remnants of the romance of Bohemianism.... The book gives us the contrast between the trivial round of ‘respectable’ society and life among the intellectuals.” --_Morning Post._

GOSLINGS by J. D. BERESFORD 6/- Author of “Joseph Stahl,” “A Candidate for Truth.”

“Many of the scenes of his book will live long in the imagination. The book is packed with such striking episodes, which purge the intellect, if not always the soul, with pity and terror and wonder. Mr. Beresford has, in fact, proved once again that, even if he may appear somewhat unsympathetic on the emotional side, he has an intellectual grasp as strong and as sure as that of any living novelist.” --_Morning Post._

“It is a wild and airy fantasy, and it embodies some uncommonly grim home truths. A book of whose success it is hardly possible to feel uncertain, unless the public have lost all palate for a tale that can make them thrill and make them think.” --_Observer._

GROWING PAINS by IVY LOW (2nd Impression) 6/-

“It is a clever study of a modern young woman that Miss Ivy Low has written, clever in its frank presentation of the thoughts and actions of a somewhat over self-conscious girl who wishes to find her place in the world and fumbles and blunders in the seeking.” --_Daily Telegraph._

THE AMBASSADRESS by WILLIAM WRIOTHESLEY 6/-

“‘The Ambassadress,’ among many good and brilliant points, has the supreme merit of knowing what it talks about. It is the ‘_vie intime_’ itself of a brilliant côterie. The play and interplay of the different nationalities, the way in which their German background affects them all, the little incidental scandals and piquancies, the thumb-nail portraits of pretty, restless women and blasé cynical men, with the sprinkling of the strong and the sincere which is the salt of all such brews; the beautiful natures of Alexa and of her wonderful stepmother; the impression of the Wagner opera, and the sudden plunge into the depths below the music, which show that Mr. Wriothesley has some of the gift of vision as well as observation; all these things make the book a vivid and uncommon one that can hardly fail to claim attention.” --_Evening Standard._

THE SIXTY-FIRST SECOND by OWEN JOHNSON 6/-

“What an excellent title, and what an excellent story is so named!” --_Evening News._

“The plot of the novel is ingenious, and the love affair--though really a side issue--is conducted on lines that are refreshingly original.” --_Yorkshire Post._

THE KINGDOM by HAROLD GOAD 6/-

“Its style and its fine handling will commend it to the judicious, especially as, despite the knowledge it displays of the monastic life of to-day and its insight into the mystical temper, it reveals no bias other than the artist’s sympathy with the struggles of a human soul.” --_The Times._

“The book is excellently written and is a clever study of a man’s spiritual life.” --_Daily Graphic._

JAMES HURD by R. O. PROWSE 6/-

“Thoughtful, able and interesting novel. The story cannot but enhance its author’s reputation.” --_Scotsman._

GUTTER BABIES by DOROTHEA SLADE 6/-

“She has brought from the heart of the slums some of the most delicately pathetic and most quaintly humorous stories that have ever been published. The gutter babies really live and play and work and die in her delightful realistic book, and one feels at the end as closely akin to those small, wild people of the back streets and alleys, as if one had stolen a little of Miss Slade’s deep understanding and tender sympathy.

“An altogether pleasing and attractive book.” --_Bookman._

A BAND OF BROTHERS by CHARLES TURLEY

“The plot of ‘A Band of Brothers’ is not only excellent, but quite original.... Mr. Turley’s book, though as a story it will give abundant pleasure to juniors, will appeal with even greater effect to parents and guardians.” --_Spectator._

“Mr. Turley has a greater gift for interpreting the mind of the school boy and for envisaging his conditions, than any living writer. We are inclined, after reading ‘A Band of Brothers,’ to say that he is our greatest writer of school stories, not excluding Thomas Hughes.” --_Pall Mall Gazette._

LU OF THE RANGES by ELEANOR MORDAUNT 6/- Author of “The Cost of It.”

“Miss Eleanor Mordaunt has the art, not only of visualizing scenes with such imminent force that the reader feels the shock of reality, but of sensating the emotions she describes. A finely written book, full of strong situations.” --_Everyman._

VIRGINIA by ELLEN GLASGOW (2nd Impression) 6/- Author of “Phases of an Inferior Planet.”

“From beginning to end the book is alive with absorbing interest, and all the characters are convincing in their realism. A sure touch is manifested throughout. It is a striking work in style, in thought, in sympathy and understanding. We expect something distinctive from this author and her latest book splendidly fulfils our hopes.” --_Daily Herald._

THE WOMAN THOU GAVEST ME by HALL CAINE 6/-

“The filling in of the story is marked by all Mr. Hall Caine’s accustomed skill. There is a wealth of varied characterisation, even the people who make but brief and occasional appearances standing out as real individuals, and not as mere names.... In description, too, the novelist shows that his hand has lost nothing of its cunning.... Deeply interesting as a story--perhaps one of the best stories that Mr. Hall Caine has given us--the book will make a further appeal to all thoughtful readers for its frank and fearless discussion of some of the problems and aspects of modern social and religious life.” --_Daily Telegraph._

“Hall Caine’s voice reaches far; in this way ‘The Woman Thou Gavest Me’ strikes a great blow for righteousness. There is probably no other European novelist who could have made so poignant a tale of such simple materials. In that light Mr. Hall Caine’s new novel is his greatest achievement.” --_Daily Chronicle._

Other NOVELS of HALL CAINE

(of which over 3 million copies have been sold).

“These volumes are in every way a pleasure to read. Of living authors, Mr. Hall Caine must certainly sway as multitudinous a following as any living man. A novel from his pen has become indeed for England and America something of an international event.” --_Times._

Author of

THE BONDMAN 6/-, 2/-, 7d. net. CAPT’N DAVEYS HONEYMOON 2/- MY STORY 6/-, 2/- net. THE WHITE PROPHET 6/- THE ETERNAL CITY 6/-, 2/- THE MANXMAN 6/-, 2/- THE PRODIGAL SON 6/- THE SCAPEGOAT 6/-, 7d. net. THE CHRISTIAN 6/-, 2/-

THE GARDEN WITHOUT WALLS by CONINGSBY DAWSON

“ ... work of such genuine ability that its perusal is a delight and its recommendation to others a duty.... It is a strong book, strong in every way, and it is conceived and executed on a large scale. But long as it is, there is nothing superfluous in it; its march is as orderly and stately as the pageant of life itself ... and it is a book, too, that grows on you as you read it ... and compels admiration of the talent and skill that have gone to its writing and the observation and reflection that have evolved its philosophy of life.” --_Glasgow Herald._

THE REWARD OF VIRTUE by AMBER REEVES 6/-

“There is cleverness enough and to spare, but it is ... a spontaneous cleverness, innate, not laboriously acquired.... The dialogue ... is so natural, so unaffected, that it is quite possible to read it without noticing the high artistic quality of it.... For a first novel Miss Reeves’s is a remarkable achievement; it would be a distinct achievement even were it not a first novel.” --_Daily Chronicle._

YONDER by E. H. YOUNG Author of “A Corn of Wheat.”

“The beauty of life shines through it all. The book is more than a conventional love story. Nothing could be more beautiful than the affection between Theresa and her Father, and it is a touch for which alone the story is worth reading. The Book is written throughout with sympathy and dignity, and in places sounds a note of poetry.” --_Daily Mail._

THE TRUTH ABOUT CAMILLA by GERTRUDE HALL

“I have not for a long time past come across a more vivid personality in fiction.” --_Punch._

“Camilla never fails the reader, and we are sure very few readers will fail to give her enough admiration and affection to satisfy her passionate amour propre. For ourselves, we think her as delightful as she is amazing. If this be a first adventure in fiction it is certainly an extraordinarily good one, and the author is to be congratulated on what, with little exaggeration, may be described as a ‘tour de force.’” --_Pall Mall Gazette._

THE MERRY MARAUDERS by ARTHUR J. REES

“‘The Merry Marauders’ in no way belies its title. In a gay, light-hearted fashion, whose fun is infectious, it tells of the vicissitudes of a humble dramatic company in their efforts to amuse New Zealand.... A book in which there is a laugh on every page is a rare thing now-a-days. And ‘The Merry Marauders’ have left us their debtor.” --_Outlook._

LESS THAN THE DUST by MARY AGNES HAMILTON 6/-

“There is something delightfully fresh in the method of treatment, something that seems to mark the passing of another milestone in the work of the literary woman. Literary is the right word, for Miss Hamilton’s style bears the stamp of a natural purity of diction, while her analysis of emotion and character is keen without being over-protracted.” --_Daily Telegraph._

SET TO PARTNERS by Mrs. HENRY DUDENEY 6/-

Author of “A Runaway Ring,” “The Orchard Thief,” “A Large Room,” etc.

“If we were asked to say what is in ‘Set to Partners’ that we find so arresting, we should be likely to place the impression of reality which it conveys above its grim choice of situation, or even above Mrs. Henry Dudeney’s gift of delineating character, which is out of the common and yet never vague ... a piece out of life ... none will deny the splendid vitality of the work, which is by far the best that Mrs. Dudeney has yet done.” --_Daily Graphic._

THE HIPPODROME by RACHEL HAYWARD 6/- Illustrated by CLARA WATERS.

A brightly coloured story, the scene of which is laid in Barcelona. A young Irish girl who is dependent on herself for a means of subsistence becomes a “star” turn at a circus. While in the back-waters of that existence she falls in with certain gentlemen of international importance. She becomes their dupe and slave and passes through many adventures. But there is a way of escape and she takes it. Decidedly a book of swift movement and keen excitement.

LIBBY ANN by SADIE CASEY

“A delightful story of Irish village life, written with intimate knowledge, and a very vivid pen, resulting in a charming mosaic of small happenings, none of them made magically interesting by the craft of the author. If this is a first book, as it appears to be, it is a grateful duty to welcome the writer to the realms of fiction, and to hope that she will add many more such works to her record.... This is an entirely charming book, full of humour, and affording a particularly interesting picture of life in rural Ireland.” --_Daily Graphic._

KING ERRANT by FLORA ANNIE STEEL (2nd Impression) 6/- Author of “On the Face of the Waters,” etc.

“Mrs. Steel has made for herself a high reputation by the excellence of her Indian novels; in the vividness of the Oriental picture which it presents her ‘King Errant’ stands on quite as high a level as her other books.

“Historically accurate and sufficiently absorbing, and the results of Mrs. Steel’s careful study of his character is that Baber stands out from the mists of nearly four centuries as a very real and attractive person.” --_Times._

Author of

A PRINCE OF DREAMERS THE FLOWER OF FORGIVENESS FROM THE FIVE RIVERS THE HOSTS OF THE LORD IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD IN THE PERMANENT WAY MISS STUART’S LEGACY ON THE FACE OF THE WATERS THE POTTER’S THUMB RED ROWANS A SOVEREIGN REMEDY VOICES IN THE NIGHT and other stories.

O PIONEERS by WILLA S. CATHER

“An admirably written tale of life in Nebraska.... The pioneer spirit has been seized and rendered without gesticulation, and the heroine is an altogether charming and natural figure.” --_T. P’s Weekly._

“Vivid pictures of the old country life of those early pioneering years are provided, and the sunshine of romance and the shadow of tragedy flit across the pages and lift the story to fascinating heights at times.” --_Scotsman._

THE MOUNTAIN APART by JAMES PROSPER

“This is not merely a ‘clever’ novel, but a book of marked originality, in which are neither villains nor saints, but real people whom we come to know intimately.... It is a book that should be read carefully, and we wish its author the large public that such work deserves.” --_Academy._

THE LIFE MASK 6/- by the Author of “He Who Passed.”

“A highly remarkable novel, with a plot both striking and original, and written in a style quite distinctive and charming.”

“Seldom, if ever, has a tale given me so genuine a surprise or such an unexpectedly creepy sensation.” --_Punch._

HE WHO PASSED To M. L. G. 6/-

“As a story, it is one of the most enthralling I have read for a long time.... Six--seven o’clock struck--half-past-seven--and yet this extraordinary narrative of a woman’s life held me absolutely enthralled.... I forgot the weather; I forgot my own grievances; I forgot everything, in fact, under the spell of this wonderful book.... In fact the whole book bears the stamp of reality from cover to cover. There is hardly a false or strained note in it. It is the ruthless study of a woman’s life.... If it is not the novel of the season, the season is not likely to give us anything much better.”--_The Tatler._

JOHN CHRISTOPHER:

I. Dawn and Morning. II. Storm and Stress. III. John Christopher in Paris IV. The Journey’s End

by ROMAIN ROLLAND each 6/-

Translated by GILBERT CANNAN. Author of “Little Brother,” etc.

“To most readers he will be a revelation, a new interest in their lives. Take the book up where you will, and you feel interested at once. You can read it and re-read it. It never wearies nor grows irritating.” --_The Daily Telegraph._

“His English exercises so easy an effect that the reader has never for an instant the irritating sense of missing beauties through the inadequacies of a borrowed language; we have also compared it in many cases with the original and found it remarkably accurate. Readers may then be assured that they will lose but little of Mr. Rolland’s beauty and wisdom, even though they are unable to read him in the original, and Mr. Cannan is to be warmly congratulated.” --_The Standard._

“A noble piece of work, which must, without any doubt whatever, ultimately receive the praise and attention which it so undoubtedly merits.... There is hardly a single book more illustrative, more informing and more inspiring ... than M. Romain Rolland’s creative work, ‘John Christopher’.” --_The Daily Telegraph._

=THE NOVELS OF DOSTOEVSKY=

Translated by CONSTANCE GARNETT

“By the genius of Dostoevsky you are always in the presence of living, passionate characters. They are not puppets, they are not acting to keep the plot in motion. They are men and women--I should say you can hear them breathe--irresistibly moving to their appointed ends.”--_Evening News._

I. THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV 3/6 net

“No other writer perhaps has given to materials so ugly, not merely strength and life, but grave pathos and tragic beauty.” --_Times._

II. THE IDIOT 3/6 net

“In many of his novels, Dostoevsky has contrasted spiritual love and physical passion, but in no other has the terror of the conflict culminated in such tragic loneliness as in the final scene of ‘The Idiot.’” --_Daily Chronicle._

THE POSSESSED

=THE NOVELS OF LEO TOLSTOY=

Translated by CONSTANCE GARNETT

ANNA KARENIN 2/6 net WAR AND PEACE 3/6 net

“Mrs. Garnett’s translations from the Russian are always distinguished by most careful accuracy and a fine literary flavour.” --_The Bookman._

“Mrs. Garnett’s translation has all the ease and vigour which Matthew Arnold found in French versions of Russian novels and missed in English. She is indeed so successful that, but for the names, one might easily forget he was reading a foreign author.” --_The Contemporary Review._

THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT by RICHARD DEHAN (2nd Impression) 6/-

“There is real truth and pathos in the ‘Fourth Volume,’ originality in ‘The Tribute of Offa,’ and pith in nearly all of them.” --_Times._

“There is not one of the tales which will fail to excite, amuse, entertain, or in some way delight the reader.” --_Liverpool Daily Post._

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

BETWEEN TWO THIEVES (2nd Impression) 6/-

“The book is really an amazing piece of work. Its abounding energy, its grip on our attention, its biting humour, its strong, if sometimes lurid word painting have an effect of richness and fullness of teeming life, that sweeps one with it. What an ample chance for praise and whole-hearted enjoyment. The thing unrols with a vividness that never fails.”--_Daily News and Leader._

THE DOP DOCTOR (_Now in its 16th Edition_). 2/- net

“Pulsatingly real--gloomy, tragic, humorous, dignified, real. The cruelty of battle, the depth of disgusting villainy, the struggles of great souls, the irony of coincidence are all in its pages.... Who touches this book touches a man. I am grateful for the wonderful thrills ‘The Dop Doctor’ has given me. It is a novel among a thousand.” --_The Daily Express._

A LIKELY STORY by WILLIAM DE MORGAN 6/-

“How delightful it all is.... Mr. De Morgan is worth having for himself alone and for the point of view of the world that he shows us.” --_Standard._

“The book is great fun.... Much amusement, much cause for sly chuckling throughout the book.... I have enjoyed every line of it.” --_T. P.’s Weekly._

“You cannot resist the charm of the narrator, who makes you feel as if you were listening to an improvisation.” --_The Spectator._

Author of

JOSEPH VANCE ALICE FOR SHORT AN AFFAIR OF DISHONOUR IT NEVER CAN HAPPEN AGAIN SOMEHOW GOOD

THE WEAKER VESSEL by E. F. BENSON 6/-

“Among the writers of the present day who can make fiction the reflection of reality, one of the foremost is Mr. E. F. Benson. From the very beginning the interest is enchained.” --_Daily Telegraph._

Author of

JUGGERNAUT *ACCOUNT RENDERED AN ACT IN A BACKWATER *THE ANGEL OF PAIN *THE BOOK OF MONTHS *THE CHALLONERS *THE CLIMBER THE HOUSE OF DEFENCE *THE IMAGE IN THE SAND *THE LUCK OF THE VAILS *MAMMON & CO. *PAUL THE PRINCESS SOPHIA *A REAPING THE RELENTLESS CITY *SCARLET AND HYSSOP *SHEAVES

Each Crn. 8vo. Price 6/-.

Those volumes marked * can also be obtained in the Two Shilling net Edition, and also the following volumes

THE OSBORNES THE VINTAGE DODO

⁂ “The Book of Months” and “A Reaping” form one volume in this Edition.

21 BEDFORD STREET, LONDON, W.C.