A SOCIETY PERJURESS

NZ Truth, Issue 818, 16 July 1921, Page 3

A SOCIETY PERJURESS

Thelma Btmberger m Prison

"LIFE WITHOUT FREEDOM IS STALE. AND USELESS."

Re- Echo of a. Notorious London Divorce Court Case-

Last year the cables were busy about this time retailing the details of the great London Divorce Court suit, m -which the central figure was an English social butterfly, Thelma Bam- ■ berger, who was sentenced to nine months' prison for perjury m connection with the proceedings. Her sister. Mrs. Webb, who recently visited her m gaol, was, during the protracted trial, Mrs. Bamberger's chief moral support and source of consolation. She has granted an interview, a highly interesting one, , to a popular Sunday journal published m London, the "Weekly Dispatch." which, by the way, on its title page, prints the rather remarkable line: fl l2oth year of publication." Mrs. Webb's narrative runs as follows: "Money and clothes and love — all the things one used to think were worth living- £qr — seem to matter nothing now; I can do without them all, ,so long as I have freedom. Life with;out freedom is stale and* useless." I These words are the "De Profuh)clis" of one to whom liberty is now ' but a memory and a hope.

"She has borne herself during these six months like a, stoic." said MrsWebb. "ITer spirit has been indomitable. Hopeful she has always been. She has ceased to live "for the present; her only thought is for the future, for liberty and wide open spaces, the sun and the wind. Neither has her narrow, constrained life been tinged by bitterness for those with whom she is m daily contact, as might be expected of one whose joyous disposition has been caged. "When I saw her she was sitting up m bed, smiling at me. She had changed more^ than I ■ expected, yet even the dark-striped nightclothes she wore and the dark bedclothes could not hide her beauty. She smiled-, and her hands went to her golden bair P which hungashort almost to the shoulders,, and I^noticed that at each side of her head thei'e were two little curls. MADE LITTLE CURLS- " ' I knew you were coming, 1 she said to me, 'and I made these little curls especially for you.' And she twisted the curls m her fingers to show how* she had maoje them. "It was a. delight for her to be able to do any little action to please a friend. It was a delight, too, for her to see a responsive smile of appreciation. "One' of the first things I was required' to do was temporarily to become a mannequin. 'Turn round and round,' was my sister's exhortation, 'and let me look at your clothes. It

is so strange to see anybody well dressed.' And> so I turned and turned until her aesthetic taste had been satisfied. She examined me also with the wondering: gaze of inquiry of a" child to whom everything m the world is a novelty, r " 'What wonderful heels,' she said, when her eyes rested on my shoes, the heels of which were quite normal; they seem like pedestals after the flat heels I have to wear. But, then, you deserve to be on a pedestal. You know, you always wanted to put. me on a .pedestal, but one is so liable to fall, and that hurts — 'hurts the one who put you there, I mean, far more than the one who falls.' "On the subject of dress she has become a reformer. She wants to reform prison dress for women. The uniformity of the costume the long, wide, unshapely skirts, the puffed sleeves, and the raised neck which looks so chokingly high that the wearer might already be half-way to the gallows, made her almost sorrowful. SELF-RESPECT KILLED. " 'How can any ordinary unphilosophic woman wear those clothes and retain self-respect?' she said. 'I Would like to be given the power to change it. Let the color be the same, if they wish; it is the cut that destroys one's morale. One cannot respect oneself m puff sleeves. I would make the skirt shorter and less full. I would shorten the sleeves and take most of the puff out of them, and I would dispense with the high neck m

favor 'of a V-shaped cut. Not only would it make the women 'happier — think ol" the saving m cloth and the decrease In • Government" expenditure!' On one occasion, indeed, she d-id seek 1 permission to alter nor own clothes, and those of anybody else, who felt m need of the services of a dressmaker, but this naturally was' against regulations. '"Do you know, I haven't seen myself properly, since I've been here?' she said presently. 'I haven't a look-ing-glass; have you?' I had not. " 'But there are ways and means,' she added, laughing. 'When you get home take a' book with a -dark cover, hold- jt m front of a. window, and see whether the glass tells you- anything, it gives you the ensemble without the detail — and it doesn't show worry lines.' That has , been her spirit all the time— philosophically jocular, ■■ yet always with the undertone of sadness born of deep feeling. " 'I love your fragrance,' was another of her comments. 'It is like a breath of spring m a wintry place. The prevailing odor here is a kind of soapy cleanliness, but one grows rather tired of an unremitting odor of soap, pleasant though it may be at first. It seems too relentless.' DEPRESSING SUNSHINE. " 'But Ido not feel the need of scents and artificial fragrances. I need only sunshine and, the open air; L want to get away from houses and people and to be alone. Sunshine— yes but not here. While lam here I would rather that the days were all gloomy, with the sound of rain falling outside and on the windows. My feelings are usually m a neutral state when the world outside is gloomy but when sunshine pours through the window and on to the floor I grow unhappy at the contrast.. lt makes me reel with painful sharpness all that I am missing — for you" know how I love the country and the sunshine. I expect the daffodils are out now; you know how I loved to be m the country at daffodil time, when everything is fresh and , new and growing. That Is what I feel when the sun is shining m here — a kind of spring fever. <lr W|hen I am free again I shail go to the country. I shall walk and walk Tor miles over the heaths until I am lost; -then I shall know that I am free. The worst of this life is that one cannot feel lost. I'm going to fill myself with sunshine. f>,"' S^ me visitor lef t some primroses the other day, and a few of them were u n , *™ me> Here are some still alive.' They were in -a little glass jar. They were like a promise for the future. Most of them have died, but these I have kept fresh as long as possible by cutting the stalks day by day. I hate to think of their dying when I am going to live soon.' HER BIGGEST WISH. t .'" T hls life seems to dwarf everything:. All the affairs of the world that once seemed, big, all the troubles ana -worries that were one© so overpowering, seem now so light that one would welcome them again as amusing diversions.' "She never complains of the officials In ' whose charge she is; she always speaks well of them. She does~ not fret, does not allow her restrictions to stir an Irritation that might find expression In unwarranted nagging against Her wardresses- They have been kind to her, and she knows that they are human. "Much of her time she has spent m studying French and reading novels.