Sylvia Pankhurst
120 Cheyne Walk, SW10 Infamous women’s rights activist Sylvia Pankhurst lived in Cheyne Walk between 1906 and 1909. GEMMA TAYLOR explores some of the most striking moments of her life
THE PUBLIC MEMORY OF Sylvia Pankhurst has been largely overshadowed by that of her indomitable mother Emmeline who, in 1889, fought to allow married women to vote in local elections by founding the Women’s Franchise League. Sylvia supported her mother’s endeavours and in 1903, when she became a member of the more militant group, Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU ), she became one of the first suffragettes. But after graduating from the Royal College of Art in Kensington in 1906 Sylvia wanted to be an artist and moved into 120 Cheyne Walk to pursue her dream. Happiness at her new address was short-lived; in her first year of residency, the young suffragette was imprisoned for aggressive campaigning with the WSPU . Sylvia recorded her horrifying experiences of hunger strikes and force feeding, which were published in the 1922 book Writ on Cold Slate: “Presently I heard footsteps approaching, collecting outside my cell. I was strangled with fear. There were six of them, much bigger and stronger than I. They flung me on my back on the bed and held me down by shoulders, knees, hips and ankles. My eyes were shut… I set my teeth and tightened my lips over them… A man’s hands were trying to force my mouth open… his fingers were Photography: Issy Croker trying to pull my lips apart as a screw was turned… they were trying to get the tube down my throat… Though I suppose I was unconscious of anything by then for they said, at last, ‘that’s all’... Day after day the same struggle… sometimes I felt the tube go right down into my stomach, a sickening terrifying sensation.” After the passing of the 1913 Prisoner’s Temporary Discharge Act for Ill Health, known as the ‘Cat and Mouse’ Act, Sylvia was more than once released for short periods, only to be re-arrested once sufficiently recovered. During these interludes she was often carried on a stretcher by supporters to attend meetings in London’s East End. However, Sylvia began to feel uneasy with the way the WSPU militancy was not following any controlled strategy or bringing working women into the fold and a rift formed between Sylvia and her mother. Sylvia held strong pacifist views and when, on the outbreak of World War One, Emmeline and her adopted sister Christabel became ardent war supporters, her
estrangement from them became entrenched. After she left the WSPU, Sylvia saw her role more clearly. Men were disappearing to fight and women needed support. She opened a milk distribution centre and within three weeks had also launched a cut-price restaurant that served around 400 meals a day. These successes encouraged her to found a toy factory that provided jobs for women and persuaded West End stores to stock their products. Then, in April 1915, she opened a nursery and clinic in a converted pub, which she named The Mothers’ Arms. Totally inexperienced in childbirth, she found herself acting as midwife to a terrified mother whose husband was away at the Front and comforting a Jewish couple whose 17-year-old son had been shot for desertion. Believing that the war was an imperialist adventure, Sylvia worked to oppose conscription and campaigned for peace on the pages of her newspaper, The Women’s Dreadnought. After the 1917 Russian Revolution, Sylvia saw Communism as the best way forward to achieve her ideals. She changed the name of her newspaper to The Workers’ Dreadnought and the name of her political organisation to The Workers’ Socialist Federation. Among her new co-workers was Silvio Corio, an Italian journalist and revolutionary five years her senior. Corio was to remain at her side, professionally and personally, for 30 years. But, as she fought for her new cause, a Soviet-style form of government that she believed to be the most democratic, time had passed and even in London’s East End, people were tired after the war. It was the age of flappers; skirts were short, shoes were flat and there was an air of gaiety. No one wanted to listen to Sylvia any more. It was time to move on. That move, made with Corio in 1924, was to a tiny ramshackle, rat-infested cottage – renamed Red Cottage – on Woodford Green, at the edge of Epping Forest. This turned out to be a period of chaotic creativity for Sylvia. In 1926 she published a 600-page book, India and the Earthly Paradise, and soon after, at the age of 45, she became pregnant. In December 1927 Richard Keir Pethick Pankhurst was born. Sylvia never married Corio as this would have been to compromise her principles and belief in sexual freedom for men and women.
After graduating from the Royal College of Art in 1906, Sylvia wanted to be an artist and moved into 120 Cheyne Walk
THE PUBLIC MEMORY OF Sylvia Pankhurst has been largely overshadowed by that of her indomitable mother Emmeline who, in 1889, fought to allow married women to vote in local elections by founding the Women’s Franchise League. Sylvia supported her mother’s endeavours and in 1903, when she became a member of the more militant group, Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU ), she became one of the first suffragettes. But after graduating from the Royal College of Art in Kensington in 1906 Sylvia wanted to be an artist and moved into 120 Cheyne Walk to pursue her dream. Happiness at her new address was short-lived; in her first year of residency, the young suffragette was imprisoned for aggressive campaigning with the WSPU . Sylvia recorded her horrifying experiences of hunger strikes and force feeding, which were published in the 1922 book Writ on Cold Slate: “Presently I heard footsteps approaching, collecting outside my cell. I was strangled with fear. There were six of them, much bigger and stronger than I. They flung me on my back on the bed and held me down by shoulders, knees, hips and ankles. My eyes were shut… I set my teeth and tightened my lips over them… A man’s hands were trying to force my mouth open… his fingers were Photography: Issy Croker trying to pull my lips apart as a screw was turned… they were trying to get the tube down my throat… Though I suppose I was unconscious of anything by then for they said, at last, ‘that’s all’... Day after day the same struggle… sometimes I felt the tube go right down into my stomach, a sickening terrifying sensation.” After the passing of the 1913 Prisoner’s Temporary Discharge Act for Ill Health, known as the ‘Cat and Mouse’ Act, Sylvia was more than once released for short periods, only to be re-arrested once sufficiently recovered. During these interludes she was often carried on a stretcher by supporters to attend meetings in London’s East End. However, Sylvia began to feel uneasy with the way the WSPU militancy was not following any controlled strategy or bringing working women into the fold and a rift formed between Sylvia and her mother. Sylvia held strong pacifist views and when, on the outbreak of World War One, Emmeline and her adopted sister Christabel became ardent war supporters, her
estrangement from them became entrenched. After she left the WSPU, Sylvia saw her role more clearly. Men were disappearing to fight and women needed support. She opened a milk distribution centre and within three weeks had also launched a cut-price restaurant that served around 400 meals a day. These successes encouraged her to found a toy factory that provided jobs for women and persuaded West End stores to stock their products. Then, in April 1915, she opened a nursery and clinic in a converted pub, which she named The Mothers’ Arms. Totally inexperienced in childbirth, she found herself acting as midwife to a terrified mother whose husband was away at the Front and comforting a Jewish couple whose 17-year-old son had been shot for desertion. Believing that the war was an imperialist adventure, Sylvia worked to oppose conscription and campaigned for peace on the pages of her newspaper, The Women’s Dreadnought. After the 1917 Russian Revolution, Sylvia saw Communism as the best way forward to achieve her ideals. She changed the name of her newspaper to The Workers’ Dreadnought and the name of her political organisation to The Workers’ Socialist Federation. Among her new co-workers was Silvio Corio, an Italian journalist and revolutionary five years her senior. Corio was to remain at her side, professionally and personally, for 30 years. But, as she fought for her new cause, a Soviet-style form of government that she believed to be the most democratic, time had passed and even in London’s East End, people were tired after the war. It was the age of flappers; skirts were short, shoes were flat and there was an air of gaiety. No one wanted to listen to Sylvia any more. It was time to move on. That move, made with Corio in 1924, was to a tiny ramshackle, rat-infested cottage – renamed Red Cottage – on Woodford Green, at the edge of Epping Forest. This turned out to be a period of chaotic creativity for Sylvia. In 1926 she published a 600-page book, India and the Earthly Paradise, and soon after, at the age of 45, she became pregnant. In December 1927 Richard Keir Pethick Pankhurst was born. Sylvia never married Corio as this would have been to compromise her principles and belief in sexual freedom for men and women.
After graduating from the Royal College of Art in 1906, Sylvia wanted to be an artist and moved into 120 Cheyne Walk
