A WOMAN'S LETTER.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIX, Issue 184, 3 August 1908, Page 7

A WOMAN'S LETTER.

MARCHING WITH THE SUFFRAGISTS. . (From Our Special Correspondent.) LONDON, June 16. I have been "demonstrating." Yes, Miss Zealandia took her courage in both hands on Saturday, and' joined the great procession of women suffragists in tlieir march from the Embankment to the Albert Hall. It was great fun, but I was horribly nervous at the start. I marched with the Fabian women. Perhaps 1 should have been in the Australian group, but I didn't know any of the Australians, and as some of my friends were marching under the Fabian Society's banner I joined them. I felt the need of moral support! It took about an hour to marshal us on the Embankment, and the waiting was a very trying ordeal. Bernard Shaw came and talked to us while we were waiting. He is a dear. He looks awfully stern until he begins to talk, and then there is a twinkle in his eye, and a delightful touch of Irish accent in. his voice. Punctually at three the " march of the ten thousand" began. Going up Northumberland Avenue was the worst, for I was Btill in the nervous stage, and the crowd were trying to be facetious at our expense. Tiie boys sang " Put mc among the girls " whenever they saw a man in our procession—there were one or two men helping with the heaviest banners— and every woman of rather stout proportions was promptly addressed as " girlie." We had an awful job to hold the banner up when the wind blew hard, and the crowd jeered whenever it wobbled ■ —but our standard-bearers stuck to it like Trojanesses, and! pulled through ail right. You should have seen the crowds in Trafalgar Square! The place was just black with people. There was hardly any cheering except from little groups of Socialists, who cheered like mad and sang the " Red Flag" when they saw our Fabian Socialist banner. For genuine sympathy for the claims of our sex commend mc to the Socialist man; he is years ahead of his Conservative and Liberal brethren in his ideas on the status of woman. Most of the men in the crowd watched us with a patronising sort of smile, and said nothing either for or against us. I fancy the average Englishman's idea df womankind is still coloured by Old Testament notions of the patriarchal rights and privileges of Man! The police behaved like bricks! I believe they really enjoyed helping us; it was such a change from quelling Suffragette riots. " This is better than running 'em in," I heard one burly constable remark, as he cleared the way for us through the crowd. Our procession inarched up through Piccadilly, and , along past Hyde Park to the Albert Hall,! andi the route wa£ lined with crowds all the way along. A lot of women at the balconies of the Lyceum Ladies' Club in Piccadilly waved their handkerchiefs to us as we went by, but we pretended not to notice! We thought that if they really sympathised, they should have had \ the courage of their opinions and marched in the procession with us. It is so easy to sit on a balcony and wave a handkerchief! Well, I think we showed London—conservative, apathetic old London — that women are in earnest about wanting the vote. Our nunibers took the Londoners ] by surprise, and the groat array of ■ learned-looking women in University cap ■ and gown fairly overwhelmed them. It would have marin you laugh to see the crowd gape in sheer astonishment. In the language of London, we " knocked 'em silly." For myself, I felt proud and glad to have had the opportunity of assisting, even in a humble way, the women of England in the splendid fight they aro making for political and intellectual freedom. I heard a sweet story about the women's procession which is worth re-telling. At a club window overlooking the procession an angry old gentleman, of the pre-liistoric patriarchal type, turned to his neighbour, and poured' into his ear a tirade against the " unwomanly" proceedings of the suffragists. The auditor happened to be Mr. 11. G. Wells, the famous novelist, and when he quietly remarked that liis wife was walking in the procession, the old chap shut up and backed out as quickly as he could. He turned for consolation to the Hon. W. P. Reeves, of New Zealand, and began his tirade again, only to be startled into silence by the information that Miss Reeves was amongst the processionists. In despair the old gentleman approached Mr. Eustace Balfour, at another window, and asked him what he thought of the awful conduct of these women; but when he was informed that Lady Florence Balfour was marching at the head of the procession, it was the last straw. When last seen the poor old chap was prostrate in an arm-chair, mopping his fevered' brow and calling for wbisky-and-soda!