by Wendy James
Vida
One day there will be women who won’t have to be like me and, as you so prettily put it, ‘sacrifice the flower of their womanhood’ in order to take up a career. Perhaps one day women will be able to combine the two, as men do – as men have always been able to do – and thus enjoy domestic and public life simultaneously. Is that impossible to imagine? In another generation—
James
So you’re admitting it, Vi, that you’re sacrificing yourself; that you’re some sort of martyr; that you and so many of your sisters have had to make a choice – you’ve had to choose the unhappy status of spinster in order to do your great work?
Vida
I don’t see why one would consider marriage to be a more fortunate position, nor why you would think I feel myself to be hard done by. For I assure you I don’t. I revel in the term spinster, and in my freedom.
Mr Syme
Oh, Miss Goldstein! A husband provides security and protection, if nothing else. Your freedom makes you so vulnerable – to economic climate, to physical harm, to a thousand different dangers. A husband is a woman’s promise that she and her children will be protected.
Vida
Oh, yes, the sturdy oak and the clinging vine. More often than not, sir, it is the man who is the clinging vine – a vine around a good woman’s neck. More often than not, it’s husbands that women need protection from – not only physical but psychological – for as often as not it’s married men who visit our sisters on the street, who gamble their week’s earnings, or drink it away, who beat their wives and children. What sort of security is that – not only oppressed and maligned, but betrayed, abused and misled?
James
You are talking of another class of people all together, Vida. People of our sort don’t wilfully endanger—
Vida
Oh, James, you of all people should know better. All men wilfully endanger their wives! The greatest danger a woman will ever face is childbirth. And that’s every woman, regardless of class. Surely it’s the very animal physicality that so many men regard as the highest consummation of love – that chamber of horrors that every married woman must enter – that is the agent of more physical danger than any other thing in a married woman’s life?
James
So what would you have men do, Vida? It is the impulse of every male animal, and the perpetuation of the race depends upon it.
Vida
You see what I mean, then? If the male animal urges are uncontrollable, I for one am grateful for my position; that I will never have to subject myself—
Mr Syme
Ahem, perhaps this is not a suitable topic—
Vida
And if it isn’t spoken about, if our ears are not to be sullied by the mention of the very thing that so often kills us, then what? Why, more women are killed every year perpetuating the race (and this is something that you, James, know very well) than men have ever been killed in war – yet we are not even to discuss the issue!
James
Well, what’s your answer? If you advocate birth control you’re degrading married life – bringing good women down to the level of the prostitute – and if you’re advocating abstinence … Well, for the vast majority of men, that’s just not possible.
Vida
Double standard, James. You can see, then, why I don’t feel myself to be missing out. I answer to nobody but myself, depend on nobody but myself, have nobody to blame but myself, and I’m glad of it.
Mr Syme
But what about the issues of the heart as well as the mind? What of love? The love of a mother for her child? The love between a man and woman? Do you deny its existence, its necessity for the nourishment and elevation of the human soul?
Vida
There are other loves, Mr Syme, perhaps greater loves. A love of all humanity – a love that goes beyond the small circle of self. I expect that this is what has motivated you throughout your life. Why should that larger expression of love be denied a woman? And why should the world be denied the input of half of its people? And surely more bad things have been perpetrated in the name of love than any other emotion? Crimes of passion – what are they but distortions and degradations of personal love? I think I can do without such a love.
Mr Syme
My dear, I think you do not know what it is you are forfeiting.
Vida
And if I never know, Mr Syme, then how shall I ever miss it?
At the end of the evening, and despite their disagreements, Mr Syme made an enthusiastic offer of employment to Vida. His newspaper was in need of an adventurous lady reporter — someone along the lines of Miss Alice Henry, whose fine expose of the Brookside Reformatory scandal had appeared in The Argus last year and had increased their readership enormously for some weeks – and he was certain that Miss Goldstein possessed all the necesary qualities. Vida declined very politely, but said she would be very happy to contribute pieces dealing specifically with the women’s movement, as it was important to counter all the silly arguments against the vote as publicly & frequently as possible, particularly in these weeks preceding the second reading of the bill. Mr Syme looked thoughtful at this point, said he might have a better idea than that; that he would think on it. James then broke into the conversation with the suggestion that I could perhaps be useful to him in a multitude of ways: ‘I’m not so sure that she would be your intrepid lady reporter, but Eliza is a marvel with her shorthand and typing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a secret literary talent,’ he said with a twinkling eye. ‘What with all that typing that goes on in your bedroom, you’re not writing a novel are you?’
‘I believe we do publish some small ladies’ fictions every now and then,’ Mr Syme said vaguely. ‘I’m sure my editor would be happy to look at them, if you have anything to send on.’
I assured him that I did not and, glaring at James, that I had no such pretensions, which happily put an end to that line of conversation.
Elizabeth Hamilton’s diary
22 July
Plucked a hair from my chin today. Not a new thing, such a hair, but this one is grey and coarse – an old hair. It appears I must prepare myself for old age when surely I have not yet been young. I am not ready to become an old woman, am vain enough to regret the loss of beauty – however slight a beauty it was. Yet am powerless before the onslaught of time, with the inevitable decline into sexlessness that accompanies it. And without having done the one thing that would have made me, truly, a woman.
Wish I could tell Vida that she will regret her choice one day when it is too late — that she should not choose an ideal over life. Securing the vote is an estimable thing, but she has other potentials. And the vote will not keep her warm at night.
23 July
For some reason the prognosis of that phrenologist has stayed with me. His contention that I would not make a good mother rankles, somewhat. Perhaps I would not. But I cannot help thinking of little Pandora’s sweet indignation — her claim that not only would I make a wonderful mother, but that she would like to be my child. And though I could never say such a thing outright, I would certainly be very pleased to have such a daughter.
24 July
A report in The Argus today of the formation of an Anti-Suffrage League, an entirely ‘spontaneous’ movement, apparently. There have been meetings, speeches, and there is to be a petition with many thousands of signatures. Rather shockingly, Vida’s father is reported as being one of the antis – indeed, he was voted to the chair. Evidently he has always made his opinion known privately, but surely it is one thing to state something to one’s friends & family, and quite another to take such a public stand. Vida unperturbed by his betrayal; bemused rather than angry. ‘It is only what I would expect from my father,’ she sighs. ‘He is not renowned for sense or discretion.’
Cousin Harriet is furious. ‘We all warned Isabella not to marry that horrid little man. How could he take such a public stand against one of his own children?
How could he?’ She rushed off after dinner to console Mrs Goldstein. James, though he agrees with his mother’s assessment of Colonel Goldstein’s character, of course thinks it uproariously funny. ‘As I’ve so often said – the suffrage will only lead to dissension in the family.’
The Argus, 24 July, 1900
LADIES MEETING OF PROTEST – AN ENTHUSIASTIC GATHERING
About fifty ladies met yesterday at the Atheneum Hall to address the question of organised opposition to the Woman’s Suffrage Bill, which is to come before the Legislative Council in a few days …
Colonel Goldstein who was voted to the chair said that he was there to assist the two young ladies who had come forward so pluckily to fight the battle of that very large section of the community which was opposed to woman’s suffrage …
Colonel Goldstein explained that the reason gentlemen were asked to speak at the meeting was that the principal reason of the ladies who objected to the suffrage was that they did not care to speak in public (hear, hear) and enter into the rough and tumble of political life. He had never met either of the ladies before, but directly he learned their object he had communicated with them, and offered his assistance. He was not the only one of the name interested in the subject, so the meeting could understand why he had volunteered. (Laughter)
The Age, however, was bursting with letters in support of the bill, including a very dignified one from V. herself, thanking the editors for their support and making a very succinct and reasonable case:
All the side issues are irrelevant. The point – and the only point – is that, while the representative house has declared, by a majority of over two-thirds of the votes cast, that the country wants woman suffrage, the unrepresentative house threatens to veto for the fifth time, the will of the people by an abuse of that arbitrary power which you have so often denounced as rendering ‘government of the people by the people’ a sham.
There is to be a mass meeting on Friday night, to which every member of the Legislative Assembly has been invited, to try to ascertain the true friends and opponents of the bill and to make resolutions on what further measures can be taken if the upper house once again blocks the bill, which is not unlikely.
Extract of letter from Elizabeth Hamilton to her brother Robert
26 July
James has announced that he and Eleanor Sexton are to marry. None of us had any inkling – their courtship must have been largely conducted at the hospital – but all are perfectly delighted. And James himself – so happy he was positively illuminated. I wonder whether Dr Sexton will temper her views, or whether he will modify his. There will be some fiery discussions in that household. Harriet was overjoyed: ‘The prospect of a daughter-in-law who, if not exactly pretty, is still perfectly wonderfully amiable, and grandchildren – I had almost given up hope!’ She is beside herself!
James and his bride are to make their home here, for the nonce at least, and although my cousins – and Dr Sexton, too — have made it clear that they consider me to be quite a member of the family & that far from moving, I should consider this my home in the long term, I am naturally unwilling to stay once the honeymooners return. They cannot marry for several months — Miss Sexton’s parents are in Europe & do not return until October – so I have a little time to make plans. I am considering sitting the public teaching examinations — it seems there are many small country schools in need of a teacher, and though for women the pay is not generous, in these schools accommodation is often provided.
Elizabeth Hamilton’s diary
27 July
I’m a little surprised that Vida has not taken a more public stand against the Anti-Suffrage League, though she is no doubt working hard behind the scenes, organising tomorrow night’s mass meeting and so on, & she has been busy with the move. James thinks perhaps she feels her father’s position – his betrayal – more intensely than she shows. Harriet, who has no such scruples, penned a delightfully caustic letter to the editor, which was published in today’s Age under her customary nom de plume.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE AGE
Sir, It is most ludicrous, if it were not painfully sad, to see these grown-up children getting up petitions to prevent themselves getting their just rights. It savours of medieval days, or of Turkish or Chinese notions. I am ashamed for my sex, for I did not think there were any of them so utterly incapable of reason and a sense of justice, to act as these women, whom The Argus patronises, are doing. By all means, if they hope to spend all their days in their dormitories … let them do so, but let them not hinder the awakening of others. It is strange that the daily round of afternoon visiting, afternoon teas, shopping, matinees, theatres, concerts, balls and parties never seems to interfere with the dear children in the nurseries, but the moment the women are asked to think sensibly, to interest themselves for the benefit of society, of their city, of their country, that moment the nursery becomes endangered. What folly! A woman who has tender consideration for her fellow citizens and for her perhaps less fortunate sisters will be the best mother her children could ever have. But it seems these dear women would prefer a mother who thought of little else than dress and amusements, and who cared nothing for the suffering and sorrow of others.
—A MOTHER
28 July
Attended suffrage demonstration last night. Such a crowd – someone said more than two thousand. Mr Champion chaired the meeting and a handful of politicians – all friends of the movement – addressed the audience. If it were up to these good men, the Woman’s Suffrage Bill would be passed without any dissent. At the end of the meeting a resolution was carried that if the bill is again vetoed, which is sadly more likely than not, the issue of council reform will be the first priority in the coming state elections.
1 August
A horrid occurrence yesterday. One of the porters at South Yarra station, Fred – a Dane who moved here only a few years ago – fell beneath a train and was killed. His wife had recently given birth to twin girls and he was always full of stories about their progress. Such a proud, loving father – a good, sweet man. There is to be a collection for the widow and babies, poor things.
Also in today’s paper, and just adjacent to the account of Fred’s death, was the report of King Humbert of Italy’s assassination by anarchists. Such an odd juxtaposition: the tiny space allotted Fred, the several columns & great bold headlines given to the king. His last words reported: ‘It is nothing!’ His wife’s anguish recorded: ‘It is the greatest crime of the century … Humbert was a good and faithful man.’ Sentiments that would no doubt be echoed by poor Fred’s wife, if she were only to be asked.
All our little lives – the little lives forgotten in the grand sweep of history, under the great weight of time, Fred, Davey, father, all of us; none with any authority, or any power to shape or influence – surely it is we who are living out the history of the world. Surely history isn’t just the battles and the kings and the great movements and revolutions, but the day-to-dayness of it all: the sun rising and setting and the changing of the seasons, and we in the midst of all this, going about our business: waking, eating, working, loving, dying. Surely this, too, means something in the grand scheme – if indeed there is a grand scheme – of things?
5 August
A luncheon today at the Goldstein’s new apartment in Oxford Chambers. Though it is an enormous home, it is hard to see where they’ll all fit. It is difficult to imagine how the parents (though I believe that Colonel Goldstein is currently living elsewhere – their very public disagreement over the women’s suffrage has, perhaps, proved too great a strain), Elsie and Hyde, Aileen, Vida, as well as their brother Selwyn will all manage to live together — they are all such ‘large’ characters.
Mrs & the Colonel sat at a great distance from one another and did not exchange a single word. Elsie was in an expansive mood – but then when is she not? She did not stop talking the entire afternoon – her conversation is like some irrepressible fountain and rarely contains any word of sense
or interest, just bubble, bubble, bubble. She does not seem to notice that nobody is listening, at any rate it does not inhibit her at all.
The brother Selwyn (who also appears to have fallen out with his father) is something of a boor. He had brought his latest beau – a buxom beauty, dressed expensively and rather garishly – but he largely disregarded the poor woman. Instead, when he was not stuffing food into his mouth in the most repulsive manner, he seemed to get a great deal of pleasure from teasing Aileen, who did her best to ignore him and for the most part sat in a silent scowling sulk, or glaring disdainfully at Mr Champion.
Mr Champion’s paralysis seems to have lessened somewhat — a development that his wife is convinced is a direct consequence of his fortnightly visits to a Christian Science healer. The founder and leader of this Christian Science – a Mrs Eddy – not only permits women to lead the congregation, but her teachings give support to the notion that God is female. Elsie says she is thinking of ‘converting’. Hyde refrains from giving his opinion on the matter. He is far more interested in what Vida has to say. Indeed he attempted to monopolise her attention for the entire luncheon and would have done so had not Vida very diplomatically managed to deflect him now and then. He has much to discuss with her, it seems. Not only is he to stand at the next election as the member for Albert Park, but he has some idea to start up another journal – evidently he edited a political journal a few years back called Champion (oh the Hyde!), this as well as his Booklover magazine – into which he would like her input. He could get some very interesting articles, he said, as he has such impeccable connections (groan) … I don’t know why she pays any heed to him. Though I can see that his intentions are good, I still cannot like him. James’s overly subjective judgement of him is not entirely wrong: he is pompous and self-righteous. He espouses (endlessly) the cause of the working man, but I have seen him reluctant to shake hands with some of the fellows who come along to church if they seem too far down the social ladder. He is of a far worse type than Selwyn, who is at least an out-and-out scoundrel and makes no pretence to be otherwise and, considering his taste in female companions, has far more of the true democrat about him.
