Out of the Silence

by Wendy James

  Colonel Goldstein, I would say, is very much like Selwyn, but his boorishness comes out in his attempts to control others, and his contention that his is in every way the correct opinion. He is what Davey would have described as a ‘puffed up cock robin’ and does not really mind to whom his opinion is given. I was seated at his left and so he had a very enjoyable chew of my ear, regaling me with his opinion on this, that and every other mattter. His lifelong goal, he said, had been to work to alleviate the sufferings of the poor. He has never had any interest, he informed me, in matters of money (luckily he managed to marry into a rather comfortable trust fund), but it did seem to him, after many years of research and some not inconsiderable practical experience, that for the poor, though matters of money were of some consequence, material relief through almsgiving was often a pointless exercise; that prevention of poverty through education and influence was preferable to alleviation. And that once poverty had been eliminated, charity would no longer be necessary.

  Fortunately Vida intervened several times and got me out of discussing some more difficult questions, viz.: ‘And what is your opinion on the theory of scientific charity?’ about which, naturally, I have no opinion. And: ‘I do hope that you’re not involved in this suffrage business – you seem too sensible a girl for all that nonsense.’

  Vida put the cat among the pigeons when she announced, apropos of nothing, that she would consider standing for election in the new federal parliament. ‘You are ridiculous, Vida,’ huffed her affronted papa. ‘There’s no certainty that they’ll even give women the vote.’ Vida gently pointed out that there was every possibility that a bill granting universal suffrage would be approved in the first session of the new parliament, the federation being concerned to make all electoral laws uniform between states. ‘They can hardly extinguish the rights already gained by women in the western and southern states,’ Vida explained. But her father was not convinced. ‘Women in parliament – pah!’ He said he would not be able to speak to her were she to embark on such a course. ‘You’ll be a laughing stock. You’ll do more harm than good for your cause. I thought you were a sensible, logical woman, Vida, but I see you are just as foolish as your mother.’ At this Mrs Goldstein stood up rather abruptly and left the room. The rest of us carried on bravely, as if there had been no unpleasantness.

  Anyway, lunch was most entertaining and quite delicious. (Their cook-general, Lizzie, who has been with them for many years and is totally devoted seemed to always be bringing in a little bit of this for Miss Vida and a little something special just for ‘poor Mr Selwyn, whose appetite is not what it should be’ – pshaw! – all on top of a three-course meal. It is a wonder they are not immensely fat given such devotion!)

  6 August

  Vida has kindly given me some paid clerical work. I typed out thirty copies of this letter, which is to be sent out to all the newspapers and weekly journals.

  HOW OUR FRIENDS CAN HELP US

  The Anti-Women’s Suffrage League has unwittingly played into the hands of the Women’s Suffrage Party, for active, organised opposition is much easier to cope with than indifference and general do-nothingism. From all parts of the colony men and women have written to the United Council for Women’s Suffrage, asking how they can best help on the suffrage cause, and as this journal will reach many, I propose with the kind permission of the editor to briefly state what can be done to assist those who are doing the engineering and organising work necessary to achieve success.

  The hands of the ‘agitators’ would be considerably strengthened if in each town a local committee were formed, to keep in touch with the United Council, to disseminate suffrage literature, to register sympathisers and to organise a public meeting to which a lady speaker from Melbourne would be sent to deliver an address on women’s suffrage, to be followed by criticism by anti-suffragists … Everywhere the public mind is agitated on the question of women’s suffrage, and in the country districts especially both the supporters and opponents would like to hear the matter discussed, and would welcome an address from one of the ‘women who dare’ claim their right to a share in the making of the laws they must obey …

  There is one other way in which almost all sympathisers can help. They can put money in our purse; we may despise that which is the root of all evil, but, unfortunately, we cannot do any effective work without it. The Age, which for many years past has consistently and chivalrously supported the extension of the franchise to women, has opened a women’s suffrage fund … Let every friend of the women’s suffrage movement send some small contribution to The Age fund, and so perform a duty they owe those who in the teeth of ridicule, vituperation and obloquy help with voice, pen, and laborious work to obtain for the women who value it the right of citizenship.

  VIDA GOLDSTEIN

  Sec. United Council for Women’s Suffrage, Melbourne

  9 August

  A letter from the Tucker girls, and another enclosed from their father. There has been some delay with bricks, so the building of the new homestead has stalled somewhat. Mr Tucker is a fine letter writer and the girls’ expression has greatly improved too, I think. He asks my advice on schooling for Thisbe, who is fourteen this month and quite the young lady. She will, it appears, soon overtake the capacity of their current governess. Despite her protestations, he thinks it time she was sent away to school and he is not sure whether she would be better at a college or boarding out – would I investigate? Of course, he adds flatteringly, he would not have to worry at all if a certain governess, whose excellence and ability cannot be bettered, would only consider returning to the station once conditions there have improved.

  In my current circumstances perhaps this is a course I should consider … right now it does not seem so terrible a proposition.

  10 August

  Vida called in this evening with good news. She is to take up a permanent and paid position as head of the UCWS, and David Syme has offered her a large sum – in part monies collected by The Age’s suffrage fund – to set up an entire magazine devoted to the woman question, though his sponsorship is to be kept secret. She is thrilled — she had already penned a lengthy response to each of the questions raised by the anti-suffrage ‘crusade’ and had considered having it privately printed & distributed in pamphlet form, knowing that there would be little hope of having any of the commercial papers agree to publish such a lengthy document. Now she has an entire magazine at her disposal …

  Extract of letter from Elizabeth Hamilton to her brother Robert

  12 August

  Unlike my own, Miss Goldstein’s career is flourishing. As well as being made head of the UCWS – a full-time, paid position, and evidently the first time any women’s organisation here has offered such conditions – she has been given the opportunity to establish a newspaper devoted entirely to the cause of women and, though it is quite a generous patronage, she has wasted no time in procuring further support: in less than forty-eight hours, or so she told me this morning, she has managed to find twenty advertisers and thirty subscribers! It is to be called The Australian Woman’s Sphere and will concern itself with matters of import to the modern women, viz. suffrage (including some scurrilous reports of the behaviour of some of the women organising the anti-suffrage petition), education, prison reform, indeed on all matters! As the quotation from Terence (which is to feature on the magazine’s front page) so boldly proclaims: ‘I am a human being, and I believe nothing human is outside my sphere.’

  She is glad also to be given a forum in which to once again raise the plight of Maggie Heffernan who, despite V’s best efforts (there is a petition currently being signed in the Gundowring district, where she grew up), still languishes in prison. The governor, while she supports the work done on M’s behalf outside the prison, is very reluctant to grant any ‘special’ visiting rights to Vida, or anyone connected to the public effort to have her released, and she is probably right in her contention that it would only be harmful to the poor girl’s mental condition, in
sofar as raising her hopes …

  Anyway, Vida has so much on her plate, it is difficult to see how she would have time to visit anyone. She is hard at work now with the first issue and hopes to have it ready for the printer in three weeks, just before the reading of the Suffrage Bill. As part of a special investigation into women’s employment, she will interview her sister Elsie, whose Booklovers’ library, established by Isabella some years back – with Hyde’s help, I believe – is a great success (a far greater success than her husband’s magazine, methinks!) and employs several women. She has invited contributions from other well-known Australian suffragists, and has even written to some of your country’s most celebrated champions of women’s rights to ask for their news, as well as their support. You will be pleased to hear that she has co-opted me for an ‘impressions of Australia’ piece, and Harriet for an article on the servant problem. Dr Sexton is to contribute, too, with her ideas on dress reform, which is one thing she and James do agree on. James is a complex mix: his medical views are far more progressive than his social. For instance, he is very open to the idea of sex education for young women – sees it as being quite necessary – yet he remains less than enthusiastic about Vida’s venture into publishing. Naturally Dr Sexton’s opinion is that this magazine will be a very good thing, but James cannot help imagining, I’m certain, all our reputations in shreds.

  And no, dear, I’m not at all ‘cut up’ about James’s approaching nuptials. I am not in love with him in the slightest – I’m quite surprised that you should think it, having never, I’m certain, given you any cause. I am, however, somewhat ‘cut up’ at the prospect of moving from a home and a milieu in which I have become far too comfortable.

  Elizabeth Hamilton’s diary

  20 August

  Have barely slept for a fortnight. I had thought that the sunnier climes of Victoria might banish this strange winter misery – this cloud of melancholy that has settled on me every year since Davey’s death – and in my first winter here it was all but absent. Perhaps the uncertainty of my position has brought it back. Have been taking long walks in the evenings after dinner in an effort to exhaust myself, but there’s no stopping the thoughts circling and circling all the night through. May have to approach James for medication if does not end soon.

  25 August

  Have stayed in my room much of the day. Not even enough energy to read. Utterly fatigued.

  28 August

  Letter from Rob. He and his detestable Miss Edwards are to be married: he is to move back to Boston in December and begin work as editor at his father-in-law’s newspaper, and rather a large sum of money is to be settled on the happy couple. Rob — this time with the added entreaties of his wife-to-be – has offered again to make a home for me.

  His marriage is more of a blow than I would have imagined, & I have to admit not just because of my reservations about his bride.

  30 August

  A winter’s day we would pray for at home – temperature in the forties, clear and fresh, the sky a blue so blue it burns the eyes. Even the weather seems to be laughing at my melancholy.

  1 September

  Seems sadness accumulates in the blood like some poisons. In the end the dose is rather strong.

  3 September

  Still no sleep. Have been fighting off a cold for weeks – fear it will turn to pneumonia again. Cannot be ill here.

  8 September

  I often wonder whether Father knew, whether he understood the cause of my illness in those weeks after Davey’s death. He must have known there was something more than grief at work, but if he wondered, or knew, he did not say. Dr Burton knew, of course, and Jeannie too – her knowledge of the depth of my sorrow was all that kept me alive, I sometimes think. To have someone else aware that it was not only Davey that I had lost, but our child. And someone else to mourn with me. Never once did Jeannie suggest that what had happened was in any way ‘for the best’ …

  11 September

  I should, I know, give thanks for the time we all had together, give thanks for the first twenty-six years of my life. But now there is this hellish loneliness for the remainder.

  Miss Rossetti is wrong – it would be better never to have loved …

  14 September

  Will there never be a day when some memory or other doesn’t manage to grip me and squeeze and leave me feeling not merely wrung, but hollow? What point any of it?

  25 September

  Mr Syme has sent a note offering me work. Not at writing or reporting, but as an editorial assistant. My typing and shorthand skills could be put to good use, he says. He is offering good conditions – from 8 a.m. till 5 p.m., and only weekdays, and a pay of 16/4 per week. It is a tempting offer, and would perhaps provide a way back into the world of the ‘living’.

  30 September

  In shock. A letter from Mr Tucker replying to my last with school details for Thisbe. He has asked again if I would consider returning to Sweetwater. But not as a governess, as a WIFE! Says he is happy for it to be a business relationship. He is lonely and would like companionship of a female sort, as well as a mother for his daughters, who all hold me in such affection and esteem. He would not press any unwanted attentions on me, but hopes that we can grow to be good friends and partners.

  My God! He is a good man, I know – but we barely know one another …

  But perhaps the unknown is less frightening than the alternative – a life lived alone, with death as the only release.

  I do not know what to think. Even less, what to do.

  1 October

  I have been unable to think of anything else all day. Have kept to my room, pleading a headache. James, concerned, offered a draught of some medicine or other. I declined, but perhaps should have accepted. I cannot stop trembling, and my heartbeat is rapid & painful, my breath short.

  Oh, what to do? What of Davey? What of our love? And what would he think?

  2 October

  I have written to Mr Tucker – Samuel – consenting to marry him.

  I am afraid, but now suddenly giddy, too, with the possibilities: home, hearth, love – even children. To have a future! To be released from the prison of this solitary existence. This silence.

  Extract of letter from Elizabeth Hamilton to her brother Robert

  10 October

  I was so pleased, Rob, to receive the news that you have decided to travel all the way to Victoria for your honeymoon. To meet my new ‘sister’ will be a great event, but to meet up with an ‘old’, and sadly missed brother, even more wonderful.

  Now I must counter with some exciting news of my own. I, too, am to be married! Mr Tucker – yes, the silent fellow of the dreadful cart ride! – has proposed marriage and after much deliberation I have accepted! So I will have to politely decline your kind offer to travel home with you and your Harriet. We are to be married in the New Year, but will initially stay some months in Melbourne – there is work to be completed before the new homestead is habitable.

  Mr Tucker – Samuel – is a very good man, Robbie, reserved and intelligent – a man you are sure to approve. As for my feelings, though we do not ‘love’ in that impetuous, obsessive manner that seems so necessary to a youthful passion, I am confident that his companionship – and that of his three girls, who are so very dear already – will bring me some happiness …

  Now, if you have recovered from the shock of my ‘personal’ news, you will no doubt be thoroughly unsurprised to learn that the Woman’s Suffrage Bill was again defeated in the Victorian upper house by a majority of 22 to 10. It was really a foregone conclusion I suppose. I attended parliament for a few hours as the bill was being debated — the twaddle spoken by some of these men, why your ears would burn with shame, Robbie, to hear their nonsense. One gentleman turned the usual argument on its head and suggested that if women were to out-represent men sitting in parliament (this being their ultimate fear) their female enthusiasm and ardour could lead to contingents of men being sent to war agains
t their will! Another claimed that women now, as compared to those in Confucian times, or in Peru, for instance, had nothing to complain about! And, of course, that the petition (over 20,000 signatures in the end) presented by the anti league gave a clear indication of the strong negative feeling in the community.