Yesterday Was Long Ago: Part One

by Hedy Thalberg James

  “We came here during the cold months very frequently, Father staying only a very few days of course, while Mother, Papa, and I stayed always with good friends, weather permitting. Her household, his work, and my factories did quite well without us,” he had said in his usual nonchalant way. Also, the owners of various hotels they went on to visit had greeted both with reverence and expressed, at the same time, their deepest regrets about Karl Reinhardt’s death, and wondered about his mother, knowing their extremely close father-daughter relationship.

  “She’s very poorly. One has to give that desolate woman lots of time,” had been his usual polite reply, never giving any indication of the great friction in his family. Victoria, who spoke only French while still struggling with the mastery of Austria’s strong dialect, was always in awe at the great luxuries right down to the finest food and rooms. She envisioned that in their future together, many more of those pleasant encounters would follow. Time had just seemed to fly by like one long holiday, without a day of worry other than what to wear for the different occasions which presented themselves. Philip would always be at hand with his own few words of advice, making sure his admired wife always looked her very best. Since money was no object, they had kept quite a few designers and dressmakers busy, as fashions reached very high peaks. Lillian’s abundant gifts of perfectly matching jewelry were always the talk of the evening but never without a tinge of great envy. One just didn’t own that much.

  Her very own highlight, however, had been that of skating with Philip at St. Moritz’s ice rink. It presented a truly breathtaking view no matter where one looked, and she wished that those wonderful times would never come to an end, or until she had an opportunity to share it someday with her own mother, Lotte.

  Christmas had followed and was lavishly celebrated, but only with immediate family like Hannes and a more presentable Anette in attendance. Verena, of course, had still been in Salzburg and Ischl. Sadly enough, it was supposed to be the Kronthalers last Christmas there, as a transfer to Rome and a promotion to Ambassador was awaiting him the following year, and they hoped and expressed sincerely, while giving their traditional toasts, that all the present family would spend the following Christmas at their place in Rome, as an ambassador usually never lacks space, luxury, or servants. But so far, Victoria had either been pregnant or nursing a child, and no one would even think to go anywhere without her. Therefore, the Kronthalers had no other choice but to return faithfully every year, as Italy not only celebrated Christmas on January 6th, but was in every other way different too. Their old-fashioned German-Austrian holidays were almost a must with the Esslers. Although they liked Rome, they would miss Vienna terribly and said that, of all people, Ambassador von Ritter did the same. He would be retiring the following year to Berlin, but not without embarrassment. His daughter had given birth to a son and had a short-lived marriage of barely a year to show for it.

  “That man is devastated as he really was looking forward to settling down in his beloved city with great honor,” Irma Kronthaler had concluded with malicious pleasure. After all, they knew the man better than most of his former employees.

  Victoria tried to come up with some comparison between Verena Reinhardt’s family and von Ritter’s, but could only conclude that there was solely one similarity. His Excellency and her mother-in-law never acknowledged the birth of their first grandchild . . . and in her case also the second. But everything else was very different. Her first daughter, Elisabeth Charlotte, had been born August 31, 1896, and it was an easy birth by any standard.

  “We will have sons in time,” she had promised to a delighted Philip, who expected many more. The following year had brought quite a few changes. It was their first big move from the late Robert’s villa to Karl’s dream house. The tall, imposing and elegant building needed almost two years of renovation to resemble in every way the former place, as well as adding comfort to their own liking. Philip, being a shrewd businessman, made the Auersbachs pay for it all. They were wealthy but would spend their inheritance on racetracks, casinos, and loose women. Their yearly imposed rent set by the late Karl Reinhardt was laughable, as even slum dwellers paid more. But since there was never any need, it had continued for the sake of the memory of his friend George.

  However, even Papa Reinhardt had noticed that George’s descendants were a big disappointment during the later years of his life. But, as in all families, there were those exceptions who one never spoke to or never entered the mansion or the marketplace, but continued George’s lifestyle in Lindenfels. It was well known that for years, there were two sets of Auersbachs. No sooner had the decoration of a new and modern nursery been completed, another baby made her entrance on September 10th, 1897. They had called her Gisela very carefully, after reviewing Reinhardts cut off every family tree and diaries that went along with every newborn Reinhardt. The name had been considered outrageous in the sixteenth century, as one had never heard of it before. It was strongly suspected to be Prussian or French. The Reinhardts must have loved the name regardless of its origin and never wasted a thought about changing it. Somehow, their stubbornness remained to this day, as only their own opinion counted.

  On the first of May, 1898, there had been an unexpected miscarriage which the midwives attributed to her riding and horse jumping. Philip, too, had been very upset for more than one reason. The miscarried baby had been a boy. Again, Victoria promised to have many, many more. At the very first sign of her pregnancy the following year, she followed Hannes’ strict orders of much rest and daily walks on Philip’s arm. As far as she was concerned, it had become a boring routine, as resting was not her forte.

  The only other news was that Alex finally left this world. If anything came out of this mysterious condition, it was nothing short of making inexplicable medical history. He was always referred to as the living king of death, though he would have preferred to be remembered as the living general of death. The only grieving one had been Anette, who was pondering what to do with her new, but even lonelier life. Her once fervent desire to become a nun after Alex’s death had ceased. She was, therefore, overcome with joy when asked to look after Gisela and also chosen to be the girls’ godmother. The present nanny had had an operation and was recovering. Anette proved once more that somehow, she was highly valued and trusted completely with any task that was in need of someone who took responsibility very seriously. By the end of August, Victoria had been told to expect twins. She was elated and hoped for at least one boy. Philip, however, was almost paranoid with worry. He decided instantly that one room would have all the advantages of a delivery room and had it modified so that it would have all the features of a hospital. A gynecologist had been summoned four weeks before the birth, as twins are known to arrive early. Hannes had the last word on everything. No sooner than Gisela’s nanny was well again, Anette had been asked to look after Victoria’s well-being and to follow only Doctor Reinhardt’s orders, including relating every suggestion from the gynecologist to him.

  “Anette, I beg of you to watch my wife’s every move,” Philip pleaded, while she was ready to jump for joy at his offer. “Don’t look so aghast, Anette. You know very well how my grandmother died,” he uttered grimly. “She fell after taking one wrong step, and our lives were never the same again.”

  “Philip, I pride myself on having a nursing license and six years of extensive schooling.”

  “All right,” he interrupted, “never forget it! Even for a single moment!”

  “Sorry, Philip. You are absolutely right,” she admitted hastily.

  “Well, as long as we understand each other, Anette. I couldn’t ask for a more dedicated woman. Now make yourself feel at home.” He smiled, relieved.

  “I always did feel at home, Philip. That’s what I’ve always loved about the Reinhardts… one is never a stranger.” She smiled gratefully, once again showing her pearly white teeth.

  During all those four years, not a letter had arrived from Verena, neither to Philip, Anette, or
God forbid, Victoria. Hannes was usually kept up to date with matters of little or no interest to him, as the Habsburger society still dominated the Spa of Ischl. But she still sent instructions to the head housemaids in Vienna and Lindenfels, as if in residence. This gesture was very pleasing to Hannes as he loved both places enough not to have them in any way neglected, yet cared very little in giving orders to what he considered a woman’s domain.

  Verena was still spending her time walking the quays of Ischl or Salzburg, visiting the gardens and attending concerts, depending on her moods. For Elsa, who by now was completely bedridden, a reliable nurse had been summoned to stay with her. As always, it was Reinhardts’ very own gesture to show their appreciation to their most trusted servants who had served as confidants as well. Her niece, Marlene, had taken over where Elsa had left off and after each return from a walk, both sat with her and held her bony, outstretched hands.

  As for Hannes, he would spend every available hour with his family, as both of the Esslers never missed a day of visiting either their children or their grandchildren. Everything else was put aside except the horses. Elisabeth already got her first lesson on a cute pony by the name of Dear Heart, and Gisela was looking forward to her entrance into the world of horses, sitting on their laps and riding with Kurt or Lillian at every opportunity to get the feel of it. Hannes was pleased with this perfect setup. It gave meaning to his otherwise lonely life, which existed only to be among the sick, the dying, or the dead, whose bodies were waiting to be taken care of by equally lonely, but very dedicated doctors and scientists who fully shared his passion. Since Verena had never given him a hint of invitation or expressed any desire to see him again, Hannes responded likewise. He mostly announced joyfully the birth of each girl and went into the usual details of weight, height, and eye color, but mostly of his gratefulness at their well-being, as it was of utmost importance to a man like him. Then came Victoria’s miscarriage, and he underlined the crucial essence of her good health, which would enable her to have more children. He may just as well have written about the prolonged and unusually cold weather, as her next letter sounded like a forecast from an almanac. This had made him not only extremely angry, but he felt very deeply hurt as well. It was, after all, her family too. His reply came in the form of a short note. In it, he vowed to stop writing as of now until she put an end to her unreasonable behavior, and that her conduct reminded him of that of a spoiled child who had always gotten his way previously, and that no one in her circle of family or friends would ever forgive her.

  Victoria was again interrupted by her many conflicting thoughts when she heard Verena tell the waiting governess to take sleeping Elisabeth to her room, but not before instructions to inform her grandchild that it was Prince Eugen who had defeated the Turks, and they had, in their haste to save their lives, left all the cannons. That great catch of hardware was melted and after years of hard labor, the Pummerin became the largest bell in St. Stephan’s Cathedral.

  “I will make sure, Mrs. Reinhardt,” she replied with her usual slight bow. “but may I also tell her that they left, in their retreat, many bags of coffee beans and a great amount of baked croissants. Our hungry soldiers had a feast, as some coffee was already prepared.”

  “As you wish, Agathe, as long as it’s not flattering about those devils. Now have a happy New Year,” she said in a kindly but dismissing tone and manner.

  “Well, well. Our two men should arrive any minute now,” Verena said a bit nervously. “It’s half past one already.”

  “Why don’t you both spend the night here? It would be a pleasure to have you,” Victoria invited kindly.

  But Verena, although very pleased with the sincere offer, declined politely. “Our place is only a few minutes away.” She neglected, however, to tell Victoria how often she had begged Philip to bring his family for a visit to their place, but so far, he had always declined and only visited his father at the hospital on a regular basis.

  “There we have 1900 already,” she started again, very eager to strike up a meaningful conversation with her daughter-in-law. She was surprised at how quiet and pensive Victoria was, not at all her usual self, joining in any conversation between grandmother and Elisabeth.

  “Are you homesick, Victoria?”

  “Only for my mother, Madame.”

  “And not for Berlin? It is a very beautiful city.”

  “Not in the least. I only lived there four years before our departure for Vienna, and my memories from those years are not very happy ones. It was a bad time for my family, as my brother defied my father’s wishes to stay for any length of time in a military school,” she admitted honestly with a sigh. “He refused to make the military his career. He aspired to be a musician and acquired a bad reputation along the way.”

  “How sad,” Verena said, as she knew all about Oscar already due to her careful investigation into the von Wintersbergs. “But where were you born?” She had somehow forgotten that one.

  “In Munich, Madame. It was Father’s first assignment, as Prussian attaché, and two years later Germany was united and we went to Paris.”

  “Consequently, your flawless French. I always wondered about it.”

  “Mother and I always spoke French, regardless of where we lived. After all, it is the language of diplomats, and therefore, my Father never objected. German has always been my second language, but Philip and I plan to do the exact opposite with our children.”

  “So my husband tells me. I think it’s wonderful!” she said, visibly pleased. “Philip also speaks Italian and some Latin, although not as perfect as his brother did,” Verena added. It was the first time she had acknowledged anything about his brother. Mostly, she restricted herself to two sons and went no further.

  Victoria could have answered, “Philip and I speak it almost as well.” However, his Latin was a bit ahead of hers, and she knew that in time Verena would find out anyhow. So, she asked the more obvious question pertaining to a language. “May I ask you how well I am doing so far with my Austrian dialect? I detect once in a while some slight snickers on certain faces, though never in a way that would ridicule me,” Victoria asked with great interest.

  “You are trying very hard, dear Victoria, and it shows. A dialect has always been the most inflexible language to master, if it’s possible at all. It seems it’s somehow right at your tongue almost before you are able to speak the first words. I only have to listen to any of our servants, as they have not been born here. Their own parents, who mostly came from Slavic countries, have had a very hard time, even after many years of living with us. My dear, late grandmother Stephany was a great exception. But then again, her mother was from Vienna. Whenever you find the time, you should read her diaries. They will tell you a lot about this great woman and how our family lived and also suffered,” she sighed. “But coming back to your question. You speak a beautiful combination of Austrian and German, and I bet that in time you will be imitated by many,” she laughed heartily and continued in a more somber tone. “I was told just recently that your father had passed away. Now that your mother is alone and you both are very close, why don’t you ask her to come here for a lengthy visit? Lillian told me she loves Vienna!”

  “As far as my late father was concerned, it was a great relief because he died in an asylum without recognizing anyone. But Mother has come to visit us twice a year, Madame, except for the past year.”

  “I had no idea,” she interrupted, stunned and slowly wondering if she had been the reason after returning from four years absence. A wife, mother, and grandmother just doesn’t behave that way. Victoria, having watched her expression, replied very gently that her mother’s brother, Frederic, had been in desperate need of her mother’s help.

  “Illness?”

  “Yes, Madame. He was diagnosed with bone cancer.”

  “I am truly sorry to hear that,” she whispered sadly, but Victoria was still not quite sure if she meant it. After all, Uncle Frederic was a Prussian.

  �
��But even if and when he is gone, Mother has no intention of residing in Vienna.”

  “I thought both of you loved our city? Or was I misinformed?”

  “It has nothing to do with our love for the city at all. She would be only a German parvenu, possibly suspected to live off my money which is actually the Reinhardts’ money. Neither she, nor I, would ever stand for it. We are, if nothing else, a very proud family,” she said with unmistakable finality. Since Verena was totally taken by surprise and unable to give a proper response, she switched in a great hurry to her favorite topic: The Dreadful von Walden’s.

  “It was exactly fifty years ago and I would say almost to the hour, when my dear late Papa found his sister Christina murdered, no thanks to those dreadful and vicious von Waldens. And my dear and beloved grandfather died an hour later, the von Waldens being the cause of that too. Not to mention my poor, suffering grandmother. I was barely six years old, but I remember everything like it had happened just yesterday.”

  “I, too, remember certain problems that far back, Madame,” Victoria responded truthfully, but felt great relief after hearing Hannes’ and Philip’s noisy footsteps. Verena’s never-ending story about her family’s bitter feud with their enemy, the von Waldens, dated back to the beginning of the sixteenth century over a land dispute, each claiming the other had cheated. She was convinced by now that each of her children would be able to understand that the Reinhardt tradition of malice towards the von Waldens was to be upheld at any cost.

  “And how was the party Hannes?” Verena questioned in a happy mood.

  “They all wished that our two lovely ladies could have been there with us. Otherwise, it was the usual. Nothing new,” Hannes sighed, glad to be home.