Emily Davison, Martyr. R.I.P.

The suffragette Emily Davison died a hundred years ago today. Four days earlier she’d rushed onto the racecourse at Epsom during the running of the Derby and gone down under the hooves of the King’s horse. The injuries she sustained proved fatal, and she’s long been regarded as the great martyr of British women’s suffrage.

All the evidence indicates with near-certainty that she never meant to commit suicide, but was intending ‘merely’ a publicity coup. There are those who say that this diminishes her right to the status of martyr, since she didn’t go deliberately into the arms of the recording angel for the sake of the cause. I disagree.

Emily Davison’s career as a suffragette was characterised by acts of outstanding boldness and physical courage (such is the inclination of Northumbrian women, in my experience. Northumberland is a veritable Rohan replete with Eowyns.) Whether she intended the final sacrifice or not, the fact that one of those escapades was so dangerous that it resulted in her death surely entitles her to the ultimate accolade. I hold that to be a reasonable conclusion, which is why I found it so moving to photograph her grave in Morpeth churchyard, the headstone to which is inscribed with the motto of the Women’s Social and Political Union:

Deeds Not Words.

Emily Davison gets my vote for inclusion on the roll of honour.

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And dear Emily is also one of many reasons why this might be my last post. Being a mere opinionated hot air merchant is hardly edifying when placed alongside the likes of her, and my inability to get out of this damn pit makes me wonder whether my own race is effectively run. I might change my mind.

(Tell you what, though: going a whole week without making a blog post has been informative in more ways than one.)

Oh, and by the way: Thankfully, the horse that unwittingly killed Emily was unharmed. The jockey was traumatised, but physically unhurt. He was, however, haunted for the rest of his life by ‘the memory of that poor woman’s face.’ So did he blame her? No, he honoured her memory and respected her courage. Good man.