Yesterday Was Long Ago: Part One

by Hedy Thalberg James

  “Well, I guess I had it coming. How strange that after I told my wife the truth, I had the urge to talk to you too,” he uttered quietly and humbly, anticipating more insults.

  “You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you right in your face! You may have told her a little part of it. The main offenses she may have known all along. I warned that poor woman during our lessons many times. I advised her strongly, and in all honesty, not to take that important step with you. It’s a commitment to last a lifetime and it is for better or for worse!” he said harshly, pointing his finger accusingly. “You! You of all people! One of the very few young, privileged men who our Lord blessed with a brain, health, and wealth!” By now the priest gasped for air but continued. “You will always make sure you get only the ‘better’ of the taken vows, while the poor mother of your children is left to take the ‘worse’.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far if one considers—” Philip tried to interrupt, unsuccessfully.

  “I am not speaking of finances and the hardship that goes with it. I am speaking of morals and integrity… or the lack of it! You lied to me at all your previous confessions, even the one you took a day before your wedding,” he spat out in disgust. “You were seen even then,” he repeated and gulped. “Just to imagine, one night before the wedding in a red-light district! That’s why I have no choice but to talk to you man to man. You do not and never have represented any of the former Reinhardts. Those were men of great quality and one bowed in admiration of their conduct and lifestyle. Once Doctor Reinhardt is gone, there will be no one left.” He spoke wearily, looking toward heaven.

  Philip’s mind raced back to his discussion with Victoria a few hours ago. “How in hell can I ever be a Reinhardt? The sheer comparison is ludicrous. Living up to that name has always been a burden to me. My father’s father was a von Dorn. Is there anyone lower than him?”

  “I know all about him, Philip. For a short while, I also was one of his children,” the priest interrupted and noticed Philip’s startled face. He had completely forgotten about it, only remembering him as a priest or Uncle Franz-Xavier, never wasting a thought on it. After all, his father and the priest were opposites in every way. “So what if his father was a Brehmer? He still lived like a Reinhardt.”

  “Well, all I can say is that he was an exception just like Papa Reinhardt who in reality was a von Dorn. And we all know who they were. A typical tribe of nobility, neither prosperous nor noble by any standards. Their only accomplishments consisted of having seduced every woman in sight, with which they fathered dozens of children. Then they left the mother and children merciless to their own fate to fend for themselves.”

  “A woman can always say no,” he interrupted, but Philip, knowing they were mostly servants who depended on their jobs in the very same household, couldn’t imagine the priest was not aware of those circumstances and went right to the real matter.

  “By the way, Father Christopher, the von Dorns were extremely devout Catholics, never missing a Sunday High Mass with communion. I would have loved to have heard at least part of their confessions. And I’d bet all I own that the priest had no choice but to give them all a few Holy Mary’s to pray and granted full absolution,” he responded cynically. “I suppose I should consider myself very lucky not to have inherited all of their vices. I had a talk with my wife on that subject as well,” he replied frankly. “I came to you with a heavy heart, somehow to put myself more at ease. Egotistic? Yes, but that’s why confessions were invented to begin with. Now I am leaving with a heavier burden, as you probably condemned me to roast through all eternity in Hell! But thanks to my dear father’s teaching, I don’t believe in one,” he smiled. “One has only to read about the inquisition. Every cruel deed was performed by fanatic priests like you. And all that cruelty on orders of your most holy office in Rome with an infallible Pope as leader! Now that, I call hell on earth and it lasted for many, many years. Just think about it, if your teaching allows it. Now have a good day, or night . . . whatever,” Philip finished, knowing he got the best of a stunned priest who never showed any desire to contradict him. Having said that, he slammed the door, vowing to himself never to enter again. “Maybe I need a psychiatrist like mother did,” he mumbled to himself, when he heard a happy cry coming from a female voice.

  “As of today, Austria has new money! We get two crowns for every florin,” she stated to no one in particular, but counted her change in delight leaning on a corner.

  “Here, take that,” Philip said, reaching in his pocket to give her a handful of coins.

  “Any special services, sir?” she asked. “I am still available.”

  “No, thanks! You did that just now,” he replied, leaving her puzzled, and took the opposite direction in fast strides. Indirectly she helped him to make up his mind to pay Madame Lydia a visit, as he was not ready to go home. He needed to talk, and she was the one. Madame Lydia was one of the owners of those glorified hotel-cafes in the first district and was well known to be extremely discreet if a man desired more than his habitual overnight stay followed by breakfast. Philip himself had been introduced to lovemaking by Madame Lydia’s youngest sister, who in the meantime had married a considerably older businessman and moved to the outskirts of Vienna for more than one reason.

  Who else than a woman of her caliber could show more sympathy towards a man who found himself locked out of the bedroom and denied all privileges? To her, it was the average marriage where love began to subside in the early stages, providing it had been there to begin with. ‘Short romances’ were always the rage, as it was the assurance for any man in self-doubt about his ego. Philip was no exception. However, he still loved Victoria as much as he was able to love anyone outside his four children. He prided himself on being an excellent father, which no one ever doubted. But Victoria had made it quite clear that her love for him was gone. And he didn’t doubt it for a moment. She will become his friend instead of a lover, and he alone was to blame for it.

  That’s where Madame Lydia would come in very handy for advice, as he couldn’t endure the thought of having lost his beautiful wife forever or, God forbid, if she were ever to take a lover! That thought alone had to be put to rest… because one of these days she will be well again, and then what?

  Madame Lydia’s looks were those of any other madame’s, but in many other ways she was, aside from her profession that is, quite deceiving. With her red dyed hair, ample bosom, heavily rouged cheeks, and darkly painted lips and fingernails, she wore also the most expensive perfume money could buy. Those exquisite bottles were all given to her from grateful patrons whose travels took them at times to Paris, and by visiting similar places, couldn’t help but to remember her. After all, she was the one that provided pleasure all year round. But there was a well-known different side to her too. Being the oldest of thirteen children, she supported many of her less fortunate brothers and sisters whenever they were in need, and one crippled brother was solely dependent on her kindness, as he was not only widowed but had four children as well. Therefore, her reputation in general was less that of a ‘madame’, but that of a woman who had a heart as big as her bosom, made of pure and solid gold.

  And on this crucial morning, Philip had just a short while ago been reminded by his Uncle Franz-Xavier that his health and wealth, by the grace of God, was wasted on him, an undeserving scoundrel. To himself, however, he was nothing more than a confused young man full of regrets . . . at least that’s what he felt at the moment.

  “Good Lord. You are the last person on earth I expected to see this morning. I hope you bring me good luck.”

  “Madame Lydia,” exclaimed Philip, delighted, but his facial expression showed her instantly that he had stopped by only to talk. “Happy New Year! I am so glad you are still awake,” he uttered while she opened the door to her own little salon.

  “Business has been excellent this night. Everyone is asleep by now, except me, so tell me what’s on your mind,” she questioned kindly, pouring coffee for
both and putting hot croissants in front of him. “It’s a habit I acquired before I turn in,” she muttered, mostly to herself.

  He talked slowly and in obvious discomfort, looking very remorseful as she listened attentively, extending from time to time her chubby hand, petting his to put him at ease. After he finished relating his many shortcomings in regards to his marriage and his many infidelities, she smiled understandingly. “Your problems are not that unusual, though a man of your status most likely knows this. I am fully convinced that you are still in love with your wife and love your children as most men do, and that you wouldn’t leave your family for anything in the world. But like all of my dignified clients,” she emphasized, quite pleased about her knowledge on such delicate matters. “you wouldn’t subject your wife to, shall we call it ‘little kinky deviations’. It’s mostly for fear of being seen in a different light, and that something may change in the otherwise perfect and untainted relationship, especially when a wife had been pure and untouched at the time of her marriage.” While he only gave a slight nod of agreement, she was not about to be interrupted and got up for more refills of coffee. “Now, mind you Mr. Reinhardt, there are many wives who are more than willing to go along with anything, which is great if they are compatible in every other way. Even a priest will tell you, as long as it is not injurious to the other.”

  Philip had no choice but to laugh thinking of the priest. “Forgive me, Madame Lydia. I was just thinking of my uncle, Father Christopher, on this note.”

  “Oh, that old goat should be put out to pasture somewhere,” she interposed hurriedly, determined to speak her mind. “But this is rarely the case or, let’s say, barely a concern with my clientele. They keep their own wives on a high pedestal and hold them even in higher esteem. And I am convinced you are no different.” Since she knew what he was about to say, she resumed her lecture. “But there is also another matter of concern . . . at least that’s what I am told,” she said self-assuredly. “Many husbands start to lose interest during the last months of pregnancy, and after the child is born much of the previous passion just seems to disappear. Also, many have to settle for second place. Lovemaking becomes a marital obligation mostly for self-gratification and also in anticipation of more children. While there is still some love left, the once blazing fire becomes a small steady flame. It’s a different stage of feelings.”

  Again, he had no choice but to agree with every word she said. “If one is blessed with an understanding wife. Not so in my case. As I told you, the door is closed,” he lamented. “And I don’t blame her one bit, as she was a woman who once loved me very much. I have a feeling, on such matters that concern love, she will be unforgiving.”

  “Don’t be too sure, Mr. Reinhardt. Wait until her operations are over; give her time.”

  “I hope you are right. I know nothing is meant to be perfect, but I will try. However, as I stated, my wife is above everything a mother; the very best any child could ever ask for. It became almost an obsession with her. And this is what scares me the most.”

  “If I may say so, you might find great relief going to my confessor, who is very special,” she suggested. “Even I do it once in a while.”

  “As of now, I am condemned to go straight to hell. And to be quite honest, I don’t know if I am still a Catholic . . . or for that matter, who I am at all,” he reflected sadly.

  “Don’t let that bunch of hypocrites scare you, Mr. Reinhardt,” she said furiously, her expression changing instantly. “All their many lectures on so-called purity is a farce! Many of them are nothing else but dirty old men and need a good cleansing themselves. Trust me. I have uncountable call girls who came to me right out of Vienna’s many orphanages. And guess who their former abusers were? Those holier-than-thou priests! Of course, it’s not only done to girls either. Many of those young boys find themselves in the same situation, but no one wants to believe them and who would they tell it to anyway? The reason they are in a place like that to begin with is because there is nowhere else to go,” she lamented sorrowfully.

  “I am not in the least surprised,” Philip retorted in bitterness, slightly reddened with his first thought directed towards his father. Any hatred this usually kind and gentle man harbored, became only too obvious when the talk was about orphanages, nuns, or priests, with Franz-Xavier always being the exception, and fully aware that there were many more like him who were only doing their best.

  “I tell you what, Mr. Reinhardt,” She returned now to her take it or leave it attitude, as Philip was ready to leave. “you may still have a very difficult time ahead of you—and I am strictly referring to your conscience—but I am opening a new and very nice cafe at the old Greek neighborhood. Don’t laugh, because it’s near the oldest church in Vienna,” she smiled.

  “St. Ruprecht’s?”

  “Right. I will move in as soon as everything is finished. It may be spring, but in my age, I like the beautiful view of the city. And I am always here, day or night, for you to have a talk, no matter what the problem. Remember that!” she pledged, embracing him slightly and wishing him a most happy new year.

  “Let me thank you with all my heart,” he replied sincerely, leaving a generous amount of money on the breakfast table.

  “I didn’t serve you caviar!” she teased, trying her utmost to give it back.

  “It’s for your large family. After all, that’s all we ever have that’s worth having! Anything else can be bought.”

  ∼

  Philip found his beautiful wife deep in sleep in the same chair she had been in when he left. She had her favorite chinchilla blanket wrapped around her to keep warm, never one for disturbing a servant at an inappropriate hour to keep the fire going. He lifted her gently and carried her to her own bedroom, kissing her forehead while covering her with a down blanket laid out by a servant. He left the room quietly, took a long bath, reflected on his unusual night, and was ready to face a new day.

  Though he hadn’t slept a wink, Philip was very upbeat at the breakfast table, smoking his pipe, sipping his coffee, and reading the daily newspaper while being reminded page after page of the last century’s wars and suffering. The stoic behavior of Emperor Franz-Josef was, at every given opportunity, in the foreground. His personal tragedy was, of course, unsurpassed, disregarding any hardship his subjects had to endure. His only son, Rudolf, committed suicide in 1889 in the castle of Mayerling in a state of great mental distress. Nothing was mentioned in regards to the fact that his mistress, Baroness Maria von Vetsera, laid beside him. His beautiful wife, Empress Elisabeth, was stabbed to death nine years later; but that too was conveniently overlooked. So was the fact that the Emperor had a mistress, who happened to be an actress by the name of Katharina Schratt and owned a villa in the health spa of Ischl where Emperor Franz-Josef had his famous hunting lodge. Philip was laughing at the predictions for the next hundred years, when a sweet voice caught his attention. It was his little Elisabeth who ran towards the table. He put her on his lap and, to his utter amazement, she retold grandma’s history lesson ending with, “Don’t forget Papa! The year was 1683.”

  “I won’t, my darling,” he replied proudly, and made up his mind to pay his parents a surprise visit. After all, a family is all one ever has. Even Madame Lydia agreed on that one.

  His New Year started with so many surprises that this one may have been the most rewarding. He could still see the downtrodden face of the priest and the joyous reaction of Madame Lydia. What a combination! And there was his lovely wife. Her well-meant and truthful statement that Verena, his mother, gave her husband thirty-one years of happiness was something to think about. At the moment, he wasn’t even sure if he gave Victoria thirty-one weeks, especially since she mentioned that she had suspected his infidelity for quite some time but tried to fool herself. It was almost unbelievable! And all that after he had overcome the obstacles with his unrelenting mother about choosing a Prussian for a wife and upsetting the life of his family. Mother’s four-year long absence
had affected his lonely father as well. He suffered the most, being put in the middle between mother and son. How right Father Christopher was! How wrong Madame Lydia is, though she meant it well. He must find a way out of his dilemma, or someone other than his wife is going to find out too. His life has to take a different course, something other than bedding some whore for an hour to satisfy his physical needs, especially since everything depended on him alone. His mother was now happy with his choice of a wife and admired, among her many good qualities, her flair for decorating, making the mansion once more a beautiful and comfortable place to live.

  “My dear, late mother, Louise, must have been very much like Victoria,” she repeated quite frequently of late. “Small wonder Papa was so happy with her.”

  “Dear Lord, I have to change. A visit to my parents is a good a start at pleasing everyone, and will let Victoria see the place where I was brought up and spoiled, though hardly ever happy,” Philip reflected.

  Victoria was still in a daze, though euphoric, when Philip told her about his decision, and was looking very much forward to the visit for more than one reason. Doctor Reinhardt’s most fervent wish finally was coming to pass! “It will be a very happy day for all of us, Philip,” was her reply, simultaneously excusing herself for being so late in getting up.

  He smiled satisfyingly in return. “I’m glad you could sleep.”

  “Anette and I reminisced until four this morning. I could have sworn I was in the chair when I gave out.”

  “You were. I carried you to your bedroom with only a kiss on your forehead,” he responded in delight.