Out of the Silence

by Wendy James

  Earlier this week (in fact it was a Wednesday, not a Sunday) Gertrude Bray, one of Harriet’s Melbourne Benevolent Society ladies – rather an unpleasant, imposing, opinionated woman – was invited to lunch, in addition to poor Mr Stratford. His attachment to Vida is becoming more and more obvious, his and James’s mutual dislike less and less hidden. I do not know that Vida is aware of either fellow’s admiration, though it is so plain I cannot see how. Perhaps she ignores it. It cannot, anyway, be said that she is playing with them or that she in any way encourages their attentions. Treats them with the same interest she gives everyone, also the same mixture of consideration and impatience.

  Salon No. 3

  Gertrude Bray

  Dr Hawkins, your mother tells me you’re on the staff at the Women’s Hospital. I’ve given tickets to many needy women over the years, but obviously have never had cause to visit. You must tell me about it – your work there. What I do admire, Dr Hawkins, is that you bother. The type of women whose children and, er, organisations you are saving are surely not producing the particular offspring we need more of? Surely you’re wasting your knowledge and expertise?

  James

  Well, yes, I can see what you mean, and in some senses you’re right. Certainly by providing these people with better medical help we are in a sense preserving artificially what nature has decreed should die out. Perhaps in this way we are doing nature a disservice: encouraging the production of the feeble and puny, the mentally deficient … But you must realise that many of them would survive anyway. Perhaps there is something to be said for training; perhaps the little we can teach them of good health practice in the hospital will serve them well, will have some beneficial effect. Our nursing sisters instruct these women during their time with us – trivial things such as the necessity of keeping the child clean. These women are often without even the slightest notion of what’s required – washing napkins, for instance. Some of these babies are constantly weak with fever just through bad hygiene and sanitation. You wouldn’t believe the state—

  Mrs Bray

  Oh, believe me, Dr Hawkins, I have seen the state of some of their homes, or should I call them hovels? They’re not fit for pigs!

  James

  We can only do our best to improve their chances. Not that I have particular hopes, unlike our friend Mr Stratford here, that they can ever be raised completely from their state. But we must do what we can to keep all the babies alive. There’s something of a crisis, you know. It seems that the lower breeds are multiplying, while the females of our own class are declining to take up the glorious challenge of motherhood. For instance, right here we have two such women: intelligent, educated, yet too selfish in their pursuits to do what nature has decreed to be their primary duty to mankind—

  Harriet

  James, don’t be so rude!

  Vida

  Well, I suppose it’s only the truth, Harriet. I can’t speak for you, Eliza, but I’m certainly not going to tie myself to that sort of life. Why should I? I don’t need to trade my soul and body for financial security as so many women currently do. Why should I devote myself entirely to the needs and desires of another, however beloved? Why should I become old and worn before my time, sacrifice my youth and all my talents, my energy and vitality, not to mention my health? And to what purpose? Why should I, as a woman, be expected only to ‘give’, and never to ‘receive’?

  You talk of selfishness, James, but you wouldn’t expect such self-abnegation from any man. Indeed, I’ve no doubt you would find the idea that a man should relinquish his will and conscience to his wife completely abhorrent.

  No, thank you, James, – until a married woman is regarded ‘before all else as a human being’, as Mr Ibsen puts it, until a woman can lead a dignified moral existence within marriage, I can do better – for myself as well as for others – if I remain unmarried.

  Mrs Bray

  I’m afraid it’s ideas like those that keep so many of us from taking your cause seriously, my dear. You’d do well to keep such opinions to yourself, I think. What if all young women were to think as you do? Where would we be? The race, I mean. Oh no, Dr Hawkins is right – motherhood is in every way to be encouraged.

  James

  You see Vida, you’d have better chance of winning the vote if you were to be burdened, as you see it, with five children. Then you’d be seen as a real woman, not some unnatural creature.

  Harriet

  James!

  Mr Stratford

  And how do you suppose any woman would have the energy, thus burdened, to fight the good fight, Dr Hawkins?

  James

  That’s my point exactly, man. She wouldn’t!

  Mrs Bray

  Oh you are a tease, Dr Hawkins! But, back to our earlier discussion. I still think that you are remarkably selfless to devote so much of your time to such people, when you could be working in a far more satisfying environment, with far more congenial patients.

  James

  Well, it’s not just selflessness, you know. These women provide us with an invaluable supply of medical specimens: their ailments are wide ranging and often of a severity rarely seen in women of a better class. And inevitably what we discover can only be beneficial to all your sex over time. I shan’t embarrass you with sordid details, but I can assure you that medical science is going forward in leaps and bounds, and really you must be grateful to such women for providing us with their diseases.

  Vida

  Oh come, James, don’t be so coy. I’d like to hear what it is that you’re learning from these poor women. Just what good all their suffering, their glorious motherhood, as you call it, is providing!

  Harriet

  Oh, please. Vida. James. Nothing gruesome – my stomach …

  Mrs Bray

  Now, that’s given me food for thought, Dr Hawkins. I have never really been able to work out what the good Lord’s purpose was in creating such miserable creatures – other, of course, than providing people like me with a worthy occupation! – but now I see that they do have their place.

  Mr Stratford

  Good heavens, you’re talking about real people you know. Not animals—

  Vida

  In fact, you wouldn’t talk about your horse like that would you, James?

  Mr Stratford

  You really can’t see it, can you? All these people you refer to so thoughtlessly are flesh and blood. They have the same hopes and dreams as you, they only lack—

  James

  Yes, yes, they only lack our opportunities, Mr Stratford, as you have told us before. But back to our animal analogy – you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, can you sir?

  Mr Stratford

  But they’re not dogs – they’re people, man. People who, often as not, we’ve treated like dogs for centuries. And their behaviour is directly related to their circumstances …

  James

  It doesn’t necessarily follow, Stratford. It doesn’t matter what you do for some people. In the end their instincts – and it is their instincts – are no better than those of an animal. Far worse in some instances. Now, I’ll tell you a story, though I probably shouldn’t, to help illustrate my point.

  You may have heard that an infant was fished out of the river last week. Yes, it is a tragic circumstance, ladies. The police brought it to the Women’s to see if we could identify it: the child had been inoculated so it was likely to have been born in a hospital. And it just so happened that I recognised the babe. It was a particularly healthy specimen, a bonny little fellow, and I remembered his mother well. She was a young girl – nineteen, maybe twenty, a country lass. A pretty thing – bright and cheerful. We gave her every assistance in the hospital. She was feeding well, the infant was thriving, and as she had nowhere else to go – no family – we arranged a ticket to a home for girls in such circumstances, where she was duly sent.

  Vida

  So there was no father, James? She was alone? Deserted? Destitute? Just her and the babe?r />
  James

  Yes, yes, but that’s not at all unusual and we help them out as best we can. They’re able to live quite well in these homes.

  Stratford

  Oh yes, I can imagine.

  James

  Quite well. They’re sheltered, fed, given useful work to do. In this particular home the girls are able to stay a full year, until the child can be weaned.

  Vida

  And then what James? Do they adopt the child out? Are they found work, or are they sent out on to the streets alone?

  Mrs Bray

  My dear Miss Goldstein – what more can be done for them? They are, after all, the ones who have sinned. Some would say that they deserve far less.

  Vida

  But what about the men, the fathers of these children? Surely you can see the double standard involved here? How can you say it is the women who have sinned?

  James

  Yes, well, what you say of course merits discussion, but we’re straying from the point. As I was saying, this young woman had been given those very opportunities you would have us provide her with, Mr Stratford.

  Stratford

  That’s not quite what I meant—

  James

  Every opportunity, and what did she do? Apparently left a perfectly suitable home, needlessly. Drowned the infant. And truly, he was a healthy baby, Matron commented she’d rarely seen a more placid, easy babe. She drowned the infant and then – this was Thursday morning – the same day the baby’s body was recovered she came to the hospital and made inquiries about wet-nursing situations. I happened to be there and was quite surprised, as you can imagine, to see her back. She told me she’d sent the boy to her mother and was looking for work. She was completely calm, quite self-possessed. I had no reason to disbelieve her.

  In retrospect her calmness was quite chilling. Such ruthlessness and cunning … She must have only recently disposed of the child – probably the day before, according to the post-mortem, and I, knowing nothing of this, supplied her with several addresses – we keep a list of women who require such services. I must say I was astonished when the police brought in the infant for identification. She’d seemed completely normal. Not a hair out of place.

  Now I ask you, sir, what animal would do that to their young? There is no beast in the animal kingdom with the same capacity for baseness, for depravity and degradation as our lower classes sometimes display.

  Vida

  It’s a terrible story, James. But, surely not exemplary? The poor girl was obviously mad. The whole experience had addled her.

  James

  She may have been mad at the time she drowned her babe – I’ve no way of knowing that. But she certainly displayed no obvious signs of madness when I saw her the very next day. She appeared to be perfectly sane.

  Stratford

  I think she would have to be mad not to have reacted in the way she did. I can imagine this hospital of yours, the home you’re talking about. The attitudes of these matrons of yours. The nonsense about sin and penance they would have spouted. She’d have been required to pay back far more than her sin deserved, I’ll warrant.

  Mrs Bray

  But surely, Mr Stratford, you can’t really expect us to condone such behaviour. We would be remiss … it would be reprehensible if society did not punish these girls for their transgressions!

  Vida

  You’re looking thoughtful Eliza—

  Elizabeth

  No, no I don’t have an opinion really, but I was just thinking, James – it must have been the Wednesday that all this happened, and I was just thinking what a hot day that was. I’m sure it was more than 104 degrees by lunchtime, and there was that dreadful north wind blowing. I can imagine it was a truly terrible day to be walking the streets with an infant. Alone, with nowhere to go and no money, perhaps. Unbearable.

  James

  Anyway, I’ve given the police the same addresses I gave the girl—

  Vida

  Oh, James. No.

  Harriet

  Heavens, Vida – what would you have him do? No doubt there is a whole tragic history behind this deed, but no matter the circumstances, surely you can’t believe that a Christian society should allow such acts to go unpunished?

  Your sympathy for such things is misplaced – it’s foolish. And really, you might bear in mind the fate of the poor innocent child as well as the woman.

  James

  It’s not for us to speculate on the circumstances, or to determine what is the appropriate penalty. We have judges for this express purpose, Vida. Wise men trained in the ancient traditions of the law. You must trust to wiser heads than your own, my dear, trust that justice will be done.

  Vida

  Men’s justice, James.

  Elizabeth Hamilton’s diary

  26 January

  Can’t help but reflect on the circumstances of that poor girl. In conversation we are all so casual, so careless about her fate – it could never happen to people like us, we think. But, really, we are not so far removed from the predicament she found herself in. Certainly I know that one moment’s decision, seemingly inconsequential, can mean the difference in the direction of an entire life.

  Davey’s decision to leave for Edinburgh later than planned – and at my insistence – meant that he didn’t reach Edinburgh at all, that his fate was a broken neck, an early death. And that my destiny was to be a penurious old maid and not, as I had hoped and planned, the wife of a country doctor; and that I am here, in another country, alone. Only ten years ago I would have laughed scornfully at such a vision of my future.

  How, then, am I so different to this poor girl? What if I had been left to bear Davey’s child after his death? I behaved – and am glad that I did – just as I must suppose that poor girl did; in the faith that I loved and was loved. Is it merely luck, or fate, or the hand of God? I, too, have been punished for my sin, if sin it is, just not as spectacularly or as publicly.

  Perhaps we are not so different, then …

  27 January

  James says that the girl who murdered her child has been found. He is to appear as a witness at the trial of the poor creature. Vida outraged at her arrest and imprisonment; has already arranged to visit the girl – her name is Maggie Heffernan – at the gaol. James convinced she is being foolish, that no good can come from her visiting. That she’s probably had more visitors than an exhibition at the zoo. And that his cousin is only exposing herself to unnecessary unpleasantness. Vida merely raises her eyebrows. ‘Well,’ she says sweetly, ‘if you’re so concerned, James, why don’t you come with me?’

  James huffs and puffs – he has rounds, surgery, he cannot make time. As he is to testify it wouldn’t be proper. And then: ‘If you insist on going you really should take someone, Vida. Perhaps Eliza?’

  28 January

  Vida’s good friend Lilian Locke here for morning tea. Miss Locke and her sisters run a labour exchange (in addition to a house and commission agency for country women) in the city and they make a reasonable living from it too, it appears. Miss Locke has said she will keep an eye out for any suitable position, though she does not, as a general rule, have dealings with any of the schools here. Vida suggested that some sort of office work would be suitable – my typing and shorthand would surely be useful. Miss Locke not so certain – too many men (and often with university degrees) with identical skills, she says.

  Like Vida, Miss Locke is an enthusiastic supporter and campaigner for women’s suffrage, but is not altogether in agreement with Vida over the most effective strategy. Like Mr Stratford, Miss Locke feels that women’s situation cannot be alleviated until working men are given more power. That the battle must be against class first and gender second, and that the advancement of the ‘worker’, whether male or female, must remain the first priority. When she left Vida said she thought it was a shame that so much of Miss Locke’s energy was devoted to the Trades Hall Council, rather than to the suffrage, especially when sensib
le women like Lilian are such rareties. ‘So many of our fellow suffragists are very difficult to deal with,’ she sighed. ‘They can be positively dangerous: the temperance advocates just as much as the free-love devotees. It is too often a case of “save us from our friends” as much as our enemies.’

  I must say I have some sympathy for Miss Locke’s position. At any rate, I do not share Vida’s faith in a single, united female perspective. It seems to me that we women are as divided by our situation in life – our class, marital status, education, occupation, age and opinions – as are men. Surely these things are far more divisive than our sex – sex becomes a mere incidental. What have I in common with Harriet’s Mrs Day? Or Vida with that poor girl who drowned her babe? They would think it a fine jest that we align ourselves with them, when Vida and I sleep every night under a warm quilt in a feather bed, have all our meals prepared, our washing done … All the comforts in our lives are provided by women whose lives are in so many ways comfortless. These women’s allegiance will not be to their betters (their sisters, as Vida would have it), but to their own kin and class. And their own needs. Food, shelter, protection for themselves and their children against exploitation and violence, against enforced maternity – these will surely always be such women’s immediate priority, and not the vote. Their situation will decide their allegiance, not their sex.