The annual meeting of the" Society for the Promotion of Women's Interests in Sport "was held in Caxton Hall and Miss Cicely Hamilton, the president, intimated that a petition had been handed to her on her way to the hall.
It was signed by the three costumiers of Clement's Inn, and commenced "We, the women of Great Britain," and went on to protest against any woman taking any interest in anything until the wants of the women of Great Britain —presumably the three costumiers who petitioned—had received attention. She (Miss Hamilton) presumed this petition might be allowed to lie on the table. (" Agreed.")
After the report and balance sheet had been adopted, Miss Hamilton, in thanking the members for the support they had given her during her year of office, said that before retiring in favour of the new president she would like to report that she had taken an active part at several meetings held recently to promote billiards among women. (Cheers.) She herself was much interested in billiards. It was a game which appealed to her in more ways than one. As a dramatist the infinite number of dramatic situations arising in a single game of billiards had an immense attraction for her, and the complications involved in a series of nursery cannons aroused her keenest interest as a novelist.
The difficulty of keeping your modern hero and your up-to-date heroine in the straight and narrow paths of virtue, and your desperate villain in the broad road assigned to him by the conventional canons of literary art as his walk in life, was as nothing compared with the task of taking three silly balls safely round a foolish-looking hole in the corner of a six feet by four feet table. (Question.) Well, she might not be right about the size. (Hear, hear.) She never was good at figures—except, perhaps, figures of speech—but anyway they might take it from her that it was a task worthy of a woman to get those three balls round the hole without dropping one in, and she did not marvel at the fondness of their political superiors— (derisive cheers)—for this game. As a suffragist she also confessed to being interested in the furtherance of billiards among women. She had observed billiards was played mostly at nights—late. This fact, she thought, was more important than it appeared. When women learned to play the game as men played it, and under the same conditions, they could use those conditions as a reason for claiming the vote under the latchkey franchise. (Laughter.)
She would go further. She supported the view that this was a sporting nation. Sport appealed to the man in the street a thousand times more than did politics. Very well, let the fate of the women's claim to the suffrage be decided by sport. In serious debate they had all the reason and arguments on their side—and failed to win—principally because men, to whom they must appeal, could not understand reason and argument. But all men knew something about sport, and appreciated the good sportsmen and sportswomen. Let them therefore appeal to the modern Caesar in a game of fifty up. (Cheers.) She felt quite sure that if, say, her friend Mrs. Billington-Greig as representing the Suffs., were put up against, say, Mrs. Humphrey Ward as representing the Antis., with, say, Lady Frances Balfour as referee, the question of Votes, or No Votes, for Women would be decided in half an hour.
Mrs. Asquith warmly approved of Billiards for Women, and said it would give her much pleasure indeed to arrange a political handicap on the lines suggested by their chairman.
She would not confine it to women, however. She would suggest that Mr. Wason, for instance, might be put up against Miss Birdie Gawthorpe, or Mr. Belloc against Mrs. Despard. Of course, the difficulty of handicapping would arise, but she was confident the B.C.C. could be trusted to give Miss Gawthorpe a substantial start.
Mrs. Billington-Greig protested. It was another insult to women, she said, to suggest that they should take anything— even a start —from men. If women could not meet men level in sport or business or socially or otherwise, they were poor creatures indeed. (Hear, hear.) She herself would just like to meet the man who would dare to offer her a start in billiards. Whoever he was, without a moment's hesitation she would at once pot him with the cannon—(laughter)—or stuff him in the cushion. (Laughter, and a voice: "Duck him in the Pool.") Yes, if a pool were provided she would even go so far as that. But she would never agree to the Society approving of accepting starts for the members.
Madame Strebor said a start was a very useful thing, and not to be rejected without due consideration. She spoke from experience, and knew what she was saying.
Mrs. Annie Besant asked to be allowed as the oldest billiardist present to support Madame Strebor. She also spoke from experience. In her last incarnation but ten, when she played Cleopatra to Mr. Hall Caine's Antony, she had always to put a handicap on herself. Otherwise the games they played together would have been very dreary and long drawn out. She heartily approved of starts.
Mrs. Hubert Bland was glad to hear from Mrs. Besant that she had played Billiards as Cleopatra, and wanted to know if the Egyptians used Spinks' chalk. An answer to this important question, she said, would set at rest forever the controversy as to who wrote Shakespeare's plays.
Miss Jay approved of the attitude of Mrs. Billington- Greig. She herself had already drawn up a challenge to Gray—(cheers)—and instead of accepting a start from that wonderful player she had actually offered to give him what amounted to a start of half the game. (Loud and prolonged applause.) She had offered to play him with her left hand, the other tied behind her back. She thought that would perhaps bother him a bit, and paralyse the spectators.
Miss Lillah McCarthy wished to point out that one objection she had to billiards in its, present form was the use of greasy chalk. (A voice: "Try Spinks.") It messed one's clothes so. One dare not risk playing in a good dress. If a rational dress for the billiard-room could be made—something as suitable for billiards as the one she wore in "The Master Builder" was for walking—she would certainly take up the game, but not till then.
Lady Grove said she was engaged upon a complete and thorough Guide to the billiard-room, in which she outlined a suitable wrap which might meet with Miss McCarthy's approval. Her book was to be called The Human Billiardist, and treated of the etiquette of the game in a simple and understandable fashion. She argued for simplicity as the true politeness in all things. When, for instance, one missed an easy shot on the table, instead of boring one's friends with elaborate explanations as to how it was missed, a brief simple word was really all that was necessary. (Laughter.) She hoped her audience would not misunderstand her—(laughter)—they might differ as to the most suitable word—(Cries of "No, no!")—but she was sure they were with her in the matter of simplicity of language under such circumstances. (Hear, hear.) Laurence Kirk.