Chapter VII--The Need of Knowing

by Bram Stoker

　　When Stephen announced her intention of going with her father to thePetty Sessions Court, there was consternation amongst the femalepopulation of Normanstand and Norwood. Such a thing had not beenheard of in the experiences of any of them. Courts of Justice wereplaces for men; and the lower courts dealt with a class of cases . .. It was quite impossible to imagine where any young lady could getsuch an idea . . .Miss Laetitia Rowly recognised that she had a difficult task beforeher, for she was by now accustomed to Stephen's quiet method ofhaving her own way.She made a careful toilet before driving over to Normanstand. Herwearing her best bonnet was a circumstance not unattended with dreadfor some one. Behold her then, sailing into the great drawing-roomat Normanstand with her mind so firmly fixed on the task before heras to be oblivious of minor considerations. She was so fond ofStephen, and admired so truly her many beauties and fine qualities,that she was secure and without flaw in her purpose. Stephen was indanger, and though she doubted if she would be able to effect anychange, she was determined that at least she should not go intodanger with her eyes unopened.Stephen entered hastily and ran to her. She loved her great-aunt;really and truly loved her. And indeed it would have been strange ifshe had not, for from the earliest hour which she could recollect shehad received from her nothing but the truest, fondest affection.Moreover she deeply respected the old lady, her truth, herresolution, her kindliness, her genuine common-sense ability.Stephen always felt safe with her aunt. In the presence of othersshe might now and again have a qualm or a doubt; but not with her.There was an abiding calm in her love, answering love realised andrespected. Her long and intimate knowledge of Laetitia made heraware of her moods. She could read the signs of them. She knew wellthe meaning of the bonnet which actually seemed to quiver as thoughit had a sentience of its own. She knew well the cause of her aunt'sperturbation; the pain which must be caused to her was perhaps thepoint of most resistance in herself--she having made up her mind toher new experience. All she could do would be to try to reconcileher by the assurance of good intention; by reason, and by sweetnessof manner. When she had kissed her and sat beside her, holding herhand after her pretty way, she, seeing the elder woman somewhat at aloss, opened the subject herself:'You look troubled, auntie! I hope it is nothing serious?''It is, my dear! Very serious! Everything is serious to me whichtouches you.''Me, Auntie!' Hypocrisy is a fine art.'Yes! yes, Stephen. Oh! my dear child, what is this I hear aboutyour going to Petty Sessions with your father?''Oh, that! Why, Auntie dear, you must not let that trouble you. Itis all right. That is necessary!''Necessary!' the old lady's figure grew rigid and her voice was loudand high. 'Necessary for a young lady to go to a court house. Tohear low people speaking of low crimes. To listen to cases of themost shocking kind; cases of low immorality; cases of a kind, of anature of a--a--class that you are not supposed to know anythingabout. Really, Stephen! . . . ' She was drawing away her hand inindignation. But Stephen held it tight, as she said very sweetly:'That is just it, Auntie. I am so ignorant that I feel I should knowmore of the lives of those very people!' Miss Laetitia interrupted:'Ignorant! Of course you are ignorant. That is what you ought tobe. Isn't it what we have all been devoting ourselves to effect eversince you were born? Read your third chapter of Genesis and rememberwhat came of eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge.''I think the Tree of Knowledge must have been an orange tree.' Theold lady looked up, her interest aroused:'Why?''Because ever since Eden other brides have worn its blossom!' Hertone was demure. Miss Rowly looked sharply at her, but her sharpnesssoftened off into a smile.'H'm!' she said, and was silent. Stephen seized the opportunity toput her own case:'Auntie dear, you must forgive me! You really must, for my heart isset on this. I assure you I am not doing it merely to please myself.I have thought over the whole matter. Father has always wished me tobe in a position--a position of knowledge and experience--to manageNormanstand if I should ever succeed him. From the earliest time Ican remember he has always kept this before me, and though of courseI did not at first understand what it meant, I have seemed in thelast few years to know better. Accordingly I learned all sorts ofthings under his care, and sometimes even without his help. I havestudied the estate map, and I have been over the estate books andread some of the leases and all such matters which they deal with inthe estate office. This only told me the bones of the thing. Iwanted to know more of our people; and so I made a point of going nowand again to each house that we own. Of seeing the people andtalking with them familiarly; as familiarly as they would let me, andindeed so far as was possible considering my position. For, Auntiedear, I soon began to learn--to learn in a way there was nomistaking--what my position is. And so I want to get to know more oftheir ordinary lives; the darker as well as the lighter side. Iwould like to do them good. I can see how my dear daddy has alwaysbeen a sort of power to help them, and I would like to carry on hiswork; to carry it further if I may. But I must know.'Her aunt had been listening with growing interest, and with growingrespect too, for she realised the intense earnestness which laybehind the girl's words and her immediate purpose. Her voice andmanner were both softened:'But, my dear, surely it is not necessary to go into the Court toknow these things. The results of each case become known.''That is just it, Auntie,' she answered quickly. 'The magistrateshave to hear the two sides of the case before even they can make uptheir minds. I want to hear both sides, too! If people are guilty,I want to know the cause of their guilt. If they are innocent, Iwant to know what the circumstances can be which make innocence looklike guilt. In my own daily life I may be in the way of just suchjudgments; and surely it is only right that judgment should be just!'Again she paused; there rose before her mind that conversation in thechurchyard when Harold had said that it was difficult for women to bejust.Miss Rowly reflected too. She was becoming convinced that inprinciple the girl was right. But the details were repugnant as everto her; concentrating her mind on the point where she felt the groundfirm under her, she made her objection:'But, Stephen dear, there are so many cases that are sordid andpainful!''The more need to know of sordid things; if sordidness plays soimportant a part in the tragedy of their lives!''But there are cases which are not within a woman's province. Casesthat touch sin . . . ''What kind of sin do you mean? Surely all wrong-doing is sin!' Theold lady was embarrassed. Not by the fact, for she had been for toomany years the mistress of a great household not to know something ofthe subject on which she spoke, but that she had to speak of such amatter to the young girl whom she so loved.'The sin, my dear, of . . . of woman's wrong-doing . . . as woman . .. of motherhood, without marriage!' All Stephen's nature seemed torise in revolt.'Why, Auntie,' she spoke out at once, 'you yourself show the want ofthe very experience I look for!''How? what?' asked the old lady amazed and bristling. Stephen tookher hand and held it affectionately as she spoke:'You speak of a woman's wrong-doing, when surely it is a man's aswell. There does not seem to be blame for him who is the moreguilty. Only for poor women! . . . And, Auntie dear, it is such poorwomen that I should like to help . . . Not when it is too late, butbefore! But how can I help unless I know? Good girls cannot tellme, and good women won't! You yourself, Auntie, didn't want to speakon the subject; even to me!''But, my dear child, these are not things for unmarried women. Inever speak of them myself except with matrons.' Stephen's answerflashed out like a sword; and cut like one:'And yet you are unmarried! Oh, Auntie dear, I did not and I do notmean to be offensive, or to hurt you in any way. I know, dear, yourgoodness and your kindness to all. But you limit yourself to oneside!' The elder lady interrupted:'How do you mean? one side! which side?''The punishment side. I want to know the cause of that which bringsthe punishment. There surely is some cross road in a girl's lifewhere the ways part. I want to stand there if I can, with warning inone hand and help in the other. Oh! Auntie, Auntie, can't you seethat my heart is in this . . . These are our people; Daddy says theyare to be my people; and I want to know their lives right through; tounderstand their wants, and their temptations, and their weakness.Bad and good, whatever it be, I must know it all; or I shall beworking in the dark, and may injure or crush where I had looked tohelp and raise.'As she spoke she looked glorified. The afternoon autumn sun shonefull through the great window and lighted her up till she looked likea spirit. Lighted her white diaphanous dress till it seemed to takeshape as an ethereal robe; lighted her red hair till it looked like acelestial crown; lighted her great dark eyes till their black beautybecame swept in the tide of glory.The heart of the old woman who loved her best heaved, and her bosomswelled with pride. Instinctively she spoke:'Oh, you noble, beautiful creature! Of course you are right, andyour way is God's way!' With tears that rained down her furrowedcheeks, she put her arms round the girl and kissed her fondly. Stillholding her in her arms she gave her the gentle counsel which was theaftermath of her moment of inspiration.'But Stephen dear, do be careful! Knowledge is a two-edged sword,and it is apt to side with pride. Remember what was the lasttemptation of the serpent to Eve: "Your eyes shall be opened, and yeshall be as gods, knowing good and evil."''I shall be very careful,' she said gravely; and then added as if byan afterthought, 'of course you understand that my motive is theacquisition of knowledge?''Yes?' the answer was given interrogatively.'Don't you think, dear, that Eve's object was not so much theacquisition of knowledge as the gratification of curiosity.''That may be,' said the elder lady in a doubtful tone; 'but my dear,who is to enlighten us as to which is which? We are apt in suchmatters to deceive ourselves. The more we know, the better are weable to deceive others; and the better we are able to deceive othersthe better we are able to deceive ourselves. As I tell you, dear,knowledge is two-edged and needs extra carefulness in its use!''True!' said Stephen reflectively. Long after her aunt had gone shesat thinking.Once again did Miss Rowly try to restrain Stephen from a project.This was when a little later she wished to go for a few days to theUniversity Mission House in the East end of London. Ever since hervisit to Oxford she had kept up a correspondence with her mother'sold friend. It was this lady's habit to spend a part of vacation inthe Mission; and Stephen had had much correspondence with herregarding the work. At last she wrote that if she might, she wouldlike to come and see for herself. The answer was a cordialinvitation, armed with which she asked her father to allow her to go.He at once assented. He had been watching keenly the development ofher character, and had seen with pride and satisfaction that as timewent on she seemed to acquire greater resolution, larger self-dependence. She was becoming more and more of his ideal. Withoutlosing any of her womanhood, she was beginning to look at things morefrom a man's point of view than is usually done by, or possible to,women.When she returned at the end of a week she was full of new gravity.After a while this so far changed that her old lighter moods began tohave their place, but it seemed that she never lost, and that shenever would lose, the effect of that week of bitter experienceamongst the 'submerged tenth.'The effect of the mental working was shown by a remark made by Haroldwhen home on his next college vacation. He had been entering withher on a discussion of an episode on the estate:'Stephen, you are learning to be just!'At the moment she was chagrined by the remark, though she accepted itin silence; but later, when she had thought the matter over, she tookfrom it infinite pleasure. This was indeed to share man's ideas andto think with the workings of man's mind. It encouraged her tofurther and larger ideas, and to a greater toleration than she hadhitherto dreamed of.Of all those who loved her, none seemed to understand so fully asLaetitia Rowly the change in her mental attitude, or rather thedevelopment of it. Now and again she tried to deflect or modifycertain coming forces, so that the educational process in which shehad always had a part would continue in the right direction. But shegenerally found that the girl had been over the ground so thoroughlythat she was able to defend her position. Once, when she hadventured to remonstrate with her regarding her attitude of woman'sequality with man, she felt as if Stephen's barque was indeedentering on dangerous seas. The occasion had arisen thus: Stephenhad been what her aunt had stigmatised as 'laying down the law' withregard to the position a married woman, and Miss Rowly, seeing a goodargumentative opening, remarked:'But what if a woman does not get the opportunity of being married?'Stephen looked at her a moment before saying with conviction:'It is a woman's fault if she does not get the opportunity!' The oldlady smiled as she answered:'Her fault? My dear, what if no man asks her?' This seemed to herown mind a poser.'Still her own fault! Why doesn't she ask him?' Her aunt's lorgnonwas dropped in horrified amazement.Stephen went on impassively.'Certainly! Why shouldn't she? Marriage is a union. As it is inthe eye of the law a civil contract, either party to it should be atliberty to originate the matter. If a woman is not free to think ofa man in all ways, how is she to judge of the suitability of theirunion? And if she is free in theory, why not free to undertake ifnecessary the initiative in a matter so momentous to herself?' Theold lady actually groaned and wrung her hands; she was horrified atsuch sentiments. They were daring enough to think; but to put themin words! . . .'Oh, my dear, my dear!' she moaned, 'be careful what you say. Someone might hear you who would not understand, as I do, that you aretalking theory.' Stephen's habit of thought stood to her here. Shesaw that her aunt was distressed, and as she did not wish to pain herunduly, was willing to divert the immediate channel of her fear. Shetook the hand which lay in her lap and held it firmly whilst shesmiled in the loving old eyes.'Of course, Auntie dear, it is theory. But still it is a theorywhich I hold very strongly!' . . . Here a thought struck her and shesaid suddenly:'Did you ever . . . How many proposals did you have, Auntie?' Theold lady smiled; her thoughts were already diverted.'Several, my dear! It is so long ago that I don't remember!''Oh yes, you do, Auntie! No woman ever forgets that, no matter whatelse she may or may not remember! Tell me, won't you?' The old ladyblushed slightly as she answered:'There is no need to specify, my dear. Let it be at this, that therewere more than you could count on your right hand!''And why did you refuse them?' The tone was wheedling, and the elderwoman loved to hear it. Wheedling is the courtship, by the young ofthe old.'Because, my dear, I didn't love them.''But tell me, Auntie, was there never any one that you did love?''Ah! my dear, that is a different matter. That is the real tragedyof a woman's life.' In flooding reminiscent thought she forgot herremonstrating; her voice became full of natural pathos:'To love; and be helpless! To wait, and wait, and wait; with yourheart all aflame! To hope, and hope; till time seems to have passedaway, and all the world to stand still on your hopeless misery! Toknow that a word might open up Heaven; and yet to have to remainmute! To keep back the glances that could enlighten; to modulate thetones that might betray! To see all you hoped for passing away . . .to another! . . . 'Stephen bent over and kissed her, then standing up said:'I understand! Isn't it wrong, Auntie, that there should be suchtragedies? Should not that glance be given? Why should that tone bechecked? Why should one be mute when a single word might, would,avert the tragedy? Is it not possible, Auntie, that there issomething wrong in our social system when such things can happen; andcan happen so often?'She looked remorseless as well as irresistible in the pride of heryouthful strength as with eyes that blazed, not flashing as inpassion but with a steady light that seemed to burn, she continued:'Some day women must learn their own strength, as well as they havelearned their own weakness. They are taught this latter from theircradles up; but no one ever seems to teach them wherein their powerlies. They have to learn this for themselves; and the process andthe result of the self-teaching are not good. In the UniversitySettlement I learned much that made my heart ache; but out of itthere seemed some lesson for good.' She paused; and her aunt,wishing to keep the subject towards higher things, asked:'And that lesson, Stephen dear?' The blazing eyes turned to her sothat she was stirred by them as the answer came:'It is bad women who seem to know men best, and to be able toinfluence them most. They can make men come and go at will. Theycan turn and twist and mould them as they choose. And they neverhesitate to speak their own wishes; to ask for what they want. Thereare no tragedies, of the negative kind, in their lives. Theirtragedies have come and gone already; and their power remains. Whyshould good women leave power to such as they? Why should goodwomen's lives be wrecked for a convention? Why in the blindfollowing of some society fetish should life lose its charm, itspossibilities? Why should love eat its heart out, in vain? The timewill come when women will not be afraid to speak to men, as theyshould speak, as free and equal. Surely if a woman is to be theequal and lifelong companion of a man, the closest to him--nay, theonly one really close to him: the mother of his children--she shouldbe free at the very outset to show her inclination to him just as hewould to her. Don't be frightened, Auntie dear; your eyes arepaining me! . . . There! perhaps I said too much. But after all itis only theory. Take for your comfort, Auntie dear, that I am freean heart-whole. You need not fear for me; I can see what your deareyes tell me. Yes! I am very young; perhaps too young to think suchthings. But I have thought of them. Thought them all over in everyway and phase I can imagine.'She stopped suddenly; bending over, she took the old lady in her armsand kissed her fondly several times, holding her tight. Then, assuddenly releasing her, she ran away before she could say a word.