MY NEW DIGNITY.
"SO it really is true !" I exclaimed, as J. filled in the registration papers which for the first time included me as an elector. Up to that moment, when I saw the space set apart for my name, I had not, despite the compliments of Lords and Commons, and, much more efficacious and amazing, their votes, really believed that the thing would come to pass, and as a woman and a wife I should have a vote. Having a great faith in Governments, however, and having seen the magic form filled in and despatched, I felt that the matter was settled. Even J., who has no faith in any Government, seemed to think it might be taken as settled, and congratulated me. It was an agitated friend who raised a doubt by imploring me to investigate the List of Voters and make sure that the Government had not, after all, left my name out. She seemed to feel that the mere registration form might have been but a variation of the Government's compliment to women and would end in nothing. I discovered .the List of Voters at a local post office, and all doubt was dispelled when I saw my name, duly regis- tered as an elector. There are many women, no doubt—particu- larly those who have always appeared to regard politics as a sort of masculine hobby or an idiosynCrasy of the male temperament— to whom the coming of the vote is of no account. To me it was an event. I do not mean that I ejaculated anything about my rights or overwhelmed J. with feminist rhapsodies. But I was thrilled, nevertheless. My interest in the affairs of the world could now become practical instead of theoretic. I need no longer sit and hope that J. would vote for Local Option, let us say, but could vote for it ,myself whatever J. thought of it. I had now a small morsel of that power which it is the fashion for many men to deride, but for which they would fight to the last of their strength —the power of the elector, the power to express my individuality.
When Mr. Lloyd George decided he would like a General Election as a relief from the war, fresh and impressive tributes to my new dignity began to arrive. After the nominations of candidates came a quantity of literature. Now I am not new to elections, though I am to being an elector. I was brought up in an atmosphere of politics. In my youth the whole period of an election was one of the greatest and most painful excitement. I sat up delightfully late in the evenings folding bills lettered in crude but gorgeous colours. I remember to this day the piles of leaflets which we used to rub in the centre with a finger-nail till they were converted into spiral columns, so that each bill could rapidly be picked up by the corner. As we folded, we discussed the prospects with zest and partisanship. When we went out we feverishly counted the placards displayed for our candidate and balanced them against those displayed for our opponent. Our house was plastered with posters which caused rude little boys to hoot outside our windows. Peering through some chink left by the placards, I scorned them for their ignorance, while experiencing at the same time something of that exultation which has inspired martyrs and upholders of great and noble causes through the centuries. I did not jeer back, not because I had nothing to say, but because I was terribly afraid of rude little boys. It was not, then, the literature of the election that was a novelty, but its manner of coming. " Mr. and Mrs. Blank " was the direction on one of the earliest documents. " Observe," I remarked to J., " I am now regarded by the authorities as a separate entity. Though put in the same envelope, I am recog. nized as a distinct content. Your name no longer serves for both." But things quickly improved upon this. The election addresses came separately to " Mr. Blank," " Mrs. Blank." " Now I am indeed an elector !" I exclaimed as I fingered mine. We had several candidates, and they all begged for my vote with an earnestness and en apparent candour that were most moving. They also all sent their photographs, and if the majority vote for good looks, thought I, the least deserving character of the lot is going to win. He was so handsome and urbane. Among our bunch was a lady candidate who looked very youthful and attractive, and who announced over and over again that she was a Wife and Mother, and therefore —the presumption ran—knew exactly what everybody wanted. I wondered how this would appeal to the men. Anyway, I felt sure it would be demanded of her sooner or later why she "didn't go hoine and mind the baby." It seems very difficult to satisfy
the public. Unmarried women are suspect because they have no homes and babies. Married women are equally suspect because they are supposed to have both. All the candidates assured me
they had a passion for social reform. They were all likewise con- sumed with fervour on behalf of our soldiers and sailors, though none among them ventured upon figures. Indeed, except for one candidate who, with an eye for local colour, made a sporting offer in regard to a local project, the election addresses might, as to the main points, have been written in the same Committee Rooms. The simple-minded voter might have demanded of the candidates- : " Why, if you all want the same things, are you all out against one another ?" But I flatter myself—if it is a matter for flattery— that I am not simple-minded. For any one who could read between the lines, those addresses were a wonderful study in ingenuity, compromise, and—yes, I must use it—camouflage. I did not go to an election meeting, though many placards invited me. I know such meetings of old, knowledge born of suffering, of their crude election oratory and innuendo. According to report, our constituency was lucky in its candidates. All were eloquent, all had charming personalities. As I did not want to vote for a personality but a programme, I stopped at home and read the addresses. But if I avoided the meetings, I did not avoid the canvasser. Not that I wished to do so, and in fact I enjoyed her visit very much. She was canvassing for the lady candidate, and the first thing she did was to assure mo that though Mrs. — was handsome in her photograph, she was much more handsome in reality, which was a pleasant thing to know. I love to see beautiful women. I liked to think that our district might send a beautiful woman to the new House My canvasser also repeated the statement that Mrs. -- was a Wife and Mother, and added that she also knew a great deal about engineering, as she had once worked in a munition factory. What more could a humble elector ask She besought my promise to vote for this gifted and delectable woman. I demurred. I did not care to make a definite promise, on principle. She agreed as to principle, but in practice urged a promise. I said I was not happy on one point in Mrs. —'a programme. She glowed re- assurance upon me. What was it ? She would clear it up at once. I told her. Her face broke into radiant smiles. " Oh," she ex- claimed, " that's quite all right. Mrs. — was asked that very question only the other night and answered it quite satisfactorily?' " What did she say ? " I naturally asked. "Oh, I wasn't there, and I don't remember exactly whet she said, but it was quite all right ! " I could urge nothing further against such happy confidence. As I still declined the promise, she displayed her canvassing-card, and let me into secrets. If I promised, she could put a cross against my name, and then I should he, I gathered, disposed of, and she could sleep in peace. If I was obdurate, she would have to mark me—she looked at mo sorrowfully—" uncertain." She gazed at me piteously. I felt a self-opinionated wretch, a being puffed into arrogance by a new dignity. But my principle still held me, though I forsook it outwardly and basely fell bank upon J. Strong- minded women, I know, will despise me for this. I said I wished to discuss it with my husband first, though I was quick to add, being of the twentieth century, I should not be influenced by him. She received the assurance with politeness but obvious incredulity. She is now convinced, I am sure, that J. is the sort of husband you dare not disagree with. She came again, when presumably I had discussed with—or been bullied by—poor J. She was doing her canvassing between bouts of shopping and housekeeping. I had seen her go by laden with baskets. I saw her in my imagination, rushing out to me again and again, exhausted, yet persistent. I had not the heart to refuse. Principle went by the board, and I gave her a definite " something " to put on her card. After all, many people do not, as J. had said, vote as promised. They must be old electors. I am very new, and my electoral conscience is as yet tender. But my first experience as a canvassed person con- vinces me that canvassing itself is a great mistake. There might ba a slight justification for it in the argument that canvassers as informed persons could answer queries or settle vexed pointe. Most canvassers, however, are gifted more with courage than common-sense, and this, the only prop of the system, falls.
The climax of my experiences came, of course, on Polling Day. I was very nervous as the time approached. I knew nothing of the inside of polling stations, and they loomed before me strange an i Keret —as mysterious as a Masonic Meeting. My predominant fear was that at the fatal moment I should, from nervousness, pat the cross against the wrong person. All my life through I have been let down by fear at moments of crisis. Suppose, in an agonize! moment, I put my cross against the Urbane one I True, I could rut another voting-slip if one was spoilt, but to vote once, even if wrongly, would be, I felt, quite an achievement. Twice would be impossible. I think the quantities of advice sent out by candidates beseeching us not to vote for Mr. A— or Mrs. B— make for confusion. I don't believe I should have dreamt of doing such a silly thing if the cards had not suggested the possibility. J., of course, gave me instruction, but my mind grew cloudy' as we approached the polling station. I was somewhat reassured when I saw the number of policemen, including a sergeant, in the hall. I think that up to that moment I had imagined a polling station a sort of place where candidates and their supporters had a free tight for votes—or at any rate watched your every movement with hungry eyes. But with the police about there must be, I thought, to J.'s great amusement, fair play. J. has the usual British contempt for his own institutions. I followed J. to a small table, where some one, who was apparently the chairman, shouted at J., " Your number ? " We had forgotten to verify them, I know. " It's all over," I thought. I was in despair. But J. is an old elector. The chairman turned up our names. J. was given a stamped paper and was torn from me by a policeman who stood guard over the ballot-box. J. wished to wait for me, but the policeman would have none of these sentimentalities. " Over there," he said sternly to J., and the chairman looked up and said soothingly, " She'll be along in a minute." I felt very forlorn. I committed faux pas, as I knew I should without J. I informed the chairman that my name came next to that of J., and that in fact I lived in the same house, all of which he seemed to know, and dismissed with contempt. I held out my hand for my voting-paper before it was ready, thus giving the impression—the last I wished to give—that I was a fierce feminist hungering for my vote. Finally, I was led away by a policeman and put carefully into a separate cubicle from J. I simply dared not peep into J.'s box for fear of the police and the chairman, so I shakily put a cross against some name, the right one I hoped, and then fled. The policeman, J., the chairman, and a lady at the table all helped me to get my paper into the Box with its stern janitor, and then I was free to go. Once outside, I paused and looked back to get a clearer impression. It all seemed quite simple from outside. I saw pleasant-looking old married couples going in hand in hand, as it were, to vote, and groups of women making joke of it to hide a little nervous flurry. My nervousness receding, the tide of enthusiasm returned. I exulted in the thought that I had given a vote for the candidate that I
believed in. I had justified my new dignity E. B.
Previous page
