Yesterday Was Long Ago: Part One

by Hedy Thalberg James

  1847

  8

  When Karl Reinhardt left Vienna at the end of April four years previously, he could have taken a coin and tossed it in the air in order to find out which way to go. As it happened, the first upcoming coach went westward from Vienna with a connection scheduled to Paris via Switzerland. Never having been in either place and really not being concerned where he went, he had just taken his chance.

  Egon in his plain man's wisdom, while securing Karl's suitcases on top of the coach, had said in parting, “Time heals all wounds, sir.”

  “I used to say that too, Egon. This time, I'm not so sure if it really does,” he had answered, giving his faithful, somber visaged servant a strong handshake, fearful of appearing too sentimental. They waved farewell, neither knowing when they would see each other again.

  Karl kept to himself, alone in his grief, not even hearing the monotonous conversations of his fellow travelers, nor taking much notice of the sometimes crowded, uncomfortable, and musty inns with their rancid breakfasts. It never occurred to him to turn back. In Switzerland his outlook had improved somewhat from the lovely scenery as well as the hospitality and cleanliness. He had become increasingly more interested and inquisitive and was now even looking forward to visiting France, especially Paris, which he had chosen now for his final destination. He remembered his parents' and sister's sharing of memories of the city, which they apparently enjoyed in every detail, talking about it at every given opportunity.

  “A must to visit, Karl!” they had told him years ago, though also warning him of the seedy arrondissements, “where some of the thugs might slit your throat in a minute for only a franc!”

  He still recalled vividly shrugging his shoulders and replying, “It’s no different in the wrong district of Vienna. One just stays away. It's as simple as that, Christina!”

  After almost a month and a half, the coach had finally reached Paris and Karl had been relieved to be rid of the uncomfortable and noisy coach ride. He had met a reputable passenger whom he had conversed with the last two weeks, who had not only made the journey more tolerable, but had also recommended a first-class address for him to stay in, which he was grateful to accept.

  “A bit expensive, but worth every Franc. I know Paris better than any other city!” He had recommended to Karl to give the couple his name, sure that they still remembered him.

  As he approached the enchanting two-story villa, Karl was glad to have been able to find such a refined address in which to reside. The villa was covered with old vines and had a garden full of flowers that surrounded it and gave off the sweetest scent as a welcome sign. He was greeted gracefully and led to an elegantly furnished apartment with a breathtaking view of the Bois du Boulogne which made him feel that he had found a small home away from his own.

  His new landlords, Elaine and Jacques Mathieu, an old, but very sophisticated brother and sister team, invited him for a bowl of delicious soup and French bread and told him, among other things, that they had been born in this house, and had been living in it for almost seventy years, with the only interruption occurring in their younger years when they had been to boarding school in Switzerland.

  “So if you plan to explore our city before returning to Vienna, we have plenty of time on our hands and will consider it an honor to answer any questions you might have in regards to history or the different places to be seen here, should you be fortunate enough to have a lengthy stay!”

  Karl was touched by their sincerity. “I will most certainly take advantage of your generous offer,” he replied gratefully. “But at the moment, I am in need of an excellent architectural school and a reliable housekeeper who should also be a perfect cook.”

  The next morning, he was furnished with several addresses of academies with a polite suggestion to consider the Ecole de Beaux-Art which Jacques had attended himself. There was also a middle-aged servant waiting to be interviewed and a basket with two kittens that were presented to him by Pauline, smiling convincingly. “We all need someone for company, Monsieur Reinhardt! Aside from that, I have four too many.”

  Karl had taken one kitten into each of his arms. “What if I call them Adam and Eve?” He soon enough discovered that he had two Adams to deal with, and Pauline suggested 'Cain and Abel'. But since the cats didn't mind their ill-chosen names, he didn't either, and the playful kittens along with the forever-cheerful housekeeper soon became part of his new home life.

  Letters would arrive from Vienna almost weekly that were written by his mother and sister to keep him abreast of family affairs. None of them ever touched on Louise's death nor baby Verena's many operations. His father and George von Auersbach wrote mostly about new developments in architecture in Vienna. They both had applauded his choice of school in Paris, pleased with his congenial milieu, never indicating to him their need for his presence at the time or in the near future.

  “Try to absorb all you can, son!” was always the ending sentence of his father's letters, at times adding, “Your education is the only thing no one can take away from you.” or “Vienna is in need of good architects, and you will be one of the great ones!”

  The Rombergs wrote frequently, always refraining from mentioning their daughter's death. News would include Anne's forthcoming birth of her fourth child and that, after three sons, they were really looking forward to finally having a daughter. And that Alex would frequently visit their home, behaving very well; mostly interested in playing with soldiers and setting up his own battle fields, completely ignoring other toys or crayons that they would offer him. “So please, Karl, send any type of soldiers or illustrations pertaining to soldiering, since anything else is of little or no consequence to him!”

  Verena's progress was only mentioned as far as her eagerness to please and that she was really improving her French in order to be able to converse with her father by the time he returned. If they were expecting any reaction, Karl had none to offer. He did, however, always enclose beautifully dressed dolls, mentioning that he and his landlady enjoyed ordering from the best French salons, after observing little girls treasuring and taking them on their outings in the park.

  Both families thought they had reasons to be jubilant, believing that his wounds were healing, taking the huge crates of beautiful gifts that would arrive as an indication. He never forgot anyone, not even the servants. His sister would jestingly complain to him about what hardship he was imposing on all the Romberg and Reinhardt girls, who became known as the best dressed ladies in Vienna and were consequently causing quite a lot of stir.

  “Even little Verena is already aware of and proud to wear the beautiful dresses she receives from her Papa! Alex, however, is only impressed by uniforms, so please, if you find any kind of uniform for little boys— Napoleon's would just do fine!”

  France being the country boasting more railroad tracks than any other in Europe, Karl appealed to his sister to visit him before he left France for good. He would write her repeatedly, “A train departs Paris twice a day and takes you to beautiful Versailles at the speed of twelve kilometers an hour! I can guarantee you a marvelous time, with both of the Mathieus as touring guides. They give the impression that they alone created the castle for themselves, if not the Louvre too. They feel they own the place! I have never witnessed more vigor and enthusiasm in people that old. They enjoy teaching me about art, architecture, and French history. P.S. Needless to say, no one can teach happiness.”

  Even though Christina still detected his grief, she replied that she was overjoyed he was finally returning to Vienna and that she would seriously consider making the journey soon. As always, she would omit mentioning that her plans to travel would mainly depend on the last of eight operations Verena had to undergo. Most of these operations were first time experiments, the family’s hopes for a favorable outcome resting on each and every one of them.

  The families had been assured that Verena would grow up like every other normal child and her many scars would in time be hardly noticeable. Al
l the doctors involved in the operations had called her a miracle, and the grateful Reinhardts decided to build a hospital with separate wings for surgery in their town of Lindenfels in Louise's name to show their eternal gratitude. This time, however, Verena's operation required a lengthy stay in Brünn because the Chief surgeon, Professor Swoboda, would not leave his residence no matter how much money was offered.

  Since the Reinhardt's motto had become anytime, anywhere as far as improving Verena's condition was concerned, Christina volunteered to travel there, as she took her role of surrogate mother very seriously. Otto and Stephany gratefully accepted their daughter's suggestion, since long and tiring travels were becoming more and more difficult for them.

  “We'll send two of our servants along and reserve the most comfortable hotel rooms. The poor child will probably need a few weeks to recuperate there before coming back home,” Otto instructed.

  With Karl's intentions of returning the following year and Verena's improvement, they planned to devote more time to their grandson Alex, who was forever obsessed by military and war and who had become a great concern for them as well as the Rombergs.

  “Let us be honest! The child lost his parents overnight and has never learned how to deal with it.” It was the constant excuse of both sets of grandparents, not permitting anyone to put blame on Karl Reinhardt.

  ∼

  The Mathieus and Karl, who had become a cozy threesome, celebrating everything from a name day to New Year's Eve together, were at the moment listening to the bells of the churches and cathedrals that competed in ringing in the New Year. A large selection of the finest French sausage, different types of aspic, and pâté and breads had been prepared and were to be followed with a glass of champagne for a cheerful toast. The highlight of such an intimate soirée, as the Mathieus fondly called it, consisted of their tales about revolutions, and their cruel parents’ severe punishments in their younger years, something Karl had trouble comprehending, since both had given him the distinct impression that they had been born old, but with the energy of a couple of strong horses.

  He put aside the parent story, like he usually did with anything upsetting to him, and was ready to lift his glass, drinking to their health, which in itself was another irony, as both seemed to thrive on lengthy walks in freezing weather. The thought of it amused him and he smiled, toasting them, “Here is to your good health and our good times together! It will be almost four years since I arrived here, and I believe it is inexcusable for me to have stayed away from home so long. I've made up my mind that I must return home as soon as possible!”

  “Three and a half years, Monsieur!” Elaine corrected, her happy mood ebbing away.

  “How shall I ever explain that period of my absence to my children, when I cannot even explain it to myself?” he said in a stern but sad voice, accusing himself.

  “We are not always responsible for our actions,” Elaine responded, moved by the tone in his voice.

  “I'd like to believe that, Madame.”

  “When will your departure take place, Monsieur Reinhardt?” Jacques asked stoically.

  “I thought by the time I've finished school in the summer. I've invited my sister for a few weeks to Paris, and she will be happy to enjoy it again! I just thought it a good opportunity to give you fair notice, as all good things must come to an end at some time or another,” he explained, already sorry to have brought up the subject as he gazed at their melancholy faces.

  “Well then!” Both made an effort to smile, while having nothing but sorrow in their faces. “It will be a pleasure for us to show our beautiful city to your sister, if she'll permit us!”

  “I hope I am still invited!” he said in jest, trying to make some light of the situation.

  “What a question, Monsieur!” Elaine scolded smilingly.

  “We'll have to make a perfect plan and list what all we are going to see, Elaine, so we will not overlook any place,” Jacques uttered solicitously.

  Elaine ignored his designs on the two Reinhardts. “We'll miss you terribly, Monsieur Reinhardt! Our best times have been with you!”

  “I can agree on this also for myself, Madame. I’ll be forever indebted to you,” he replied with sincerity. “I only hope to be able to bring my two children for a visit someday, as now they are too young.”

  “We shall be here waiting,” both answered in unison and Karl had no reason to doubt them.

  “I am counting on it!” Jacques Mathieu sighed.

  ∼

  No one could have predicted or foreseen the many changes that were to come that would alter the fate of France so rapidly. King Louis-Philippe turned reactionary and abdicated. Among the many other problems were the ideological writings of Karl Marx, who gained more and more in influence and popularity. As the second Republic of France was proclaimed on February 24, Paris had no other choice but to put up barricades again and brace itself for a new revolution.

  All these events couldn't have come at a more inconvenient time for Karl, who was still trying to finish school and had not yet grasped the gravity of the situation. Since it was not advisable to be on the streets, in parks, or any other public gathering places, and school had closed its doors for the time being, he had to content himself playing occasionally with his cats and designing boulevards, enclosing his drawings in letters to his father and his friend George, always emphasizing how much Vienna could use better and wider streets as were offered in Paris in abundance. He outlined many of his plans upon his return home, being only partly optimistic about the outcome of such an undertaking in old Vienna, where the slow bureaucracy was legendary. He avoided going into details of France's situation, for fear his letter might be censored. His parents were even more worried about him being in France at such an inopportune time. His sister, on the other hand, was disappointed that her trip to France, which she had looked forward to with such anticipation, had to be canceled. She had, in her last few letters to Karl, underlined the importance of a meeting with him alone, as she had many secrets to share. “This time it is about real love!” she had written. “And our parents would never understand what my feelings are.”

  This had come as a surprise to Karl, but after thinking it over, he suspected that it was again about a married man, remembering his mother's remark some years ago that his sister was as blind as a bat when it came to falling in love. He had been deep in thought when he heard his landlords coming up to his place. They were always disregarding the many warnings to stay indoors. As he opened the door, both were standing there completely out of breath. As he was asking them in, he saw their very worried faces and realized that things must have taken a turn for the worse.

  They had just returned from a nearby pillar, where all the latest news was being posted. The Mathieus had gone through other revolutions and wars, followed by shaky peace treaties and then terrible hunger and more suffering. Many returning soldiers, whose only job had been to follow orders and to whom right or wrong was of no consequence, were now left to fend for themselves and try to stay alive somehow as well as their loved ones, who were not fairing any better. While many wished that they had been among the dead, they were given no choice but to wait it out until another war or revolution would be on the rise, just to relive the same misery again.

  “Mon Dieu, Monsieur Reinhardt!” Elaine stammered, still out of breath and completely exhausted, holding her brother's frail hand. As Karl helped her to a chair and rushed to bring them something hot to drink, she just kept talking frantically.

  “Mon Dieu, Monsieur Reinhardt!” she repeated. “We lived through the horrible revolution of 1789, watching together with our parents, heads being cut off! The guillotine was a gruesome sight, right Jacques?”

  “Well, we just saw it as an adventure as nothing else exciting was going on then.” He smiled.

  “Napoleon with his many conquests came and the war never seemed to end,” she continued. “My fiancée... I lost him! We had been engaged to be married. Oh, Monsieur, I never sa
w him again... just a memory... as he waved good-bye, blowing me a last kiss!” she elaborated, tears swelling up. “But you know our history as well as we do by now.”

  “History yes, Madame. Wars and revolution, no! And that is where the difference lies... a great difference... incomparable to anyone's own experience. I hadn't been born yet, but my parents returned early from a delayed honeymoon when Vienna was being shelled in 1809.”

  Both Mathieus exchanged appreciative glances at his remark, omitting Napoleon's troops, which had been responsible for that attack.

  “In my family,” he continued. “politics are generally a dead subject, other than in reference to history, of course. My late grandfather as well as my father instilled very strong beliefs in us that the countries are being run by scoundrels, filling their own pockets, while leaving the subjects to rot and die in the most deplorable conditions!” he concluded sadly.

  “Then there was 1830!” Elaine persisted in carrying her fear a step further. “This brought about the July revolution, Charles' dethronement, and Louis-Philippe’s crowning to become our new king, not of France, but of the French citizen. A regular king!” She paused, somehow elated. Karl was tempted to answer that even a regular king would neither give a thought nor a franc for her or anyone's plight other than to save his own skin, but decided to let her continue and get it off her chest.

  “Now our future and the future of France is again at stake! When will this ever end?” she lamented. “I have a very bad foreboding. I have usually been proven quite accurate whenever something unpleasant is in the air. So please, Monsieur, put your travel plans aside for the time being. It is very dangerous in France just now!”

  “The mob is becoming angrier all the time and very unpredictable. I have seen it before, Monsieur Reinhardt,” Jacques added in disgust.

  “My plans, as you know, were to leave during the summer months. Let us hope things will be settled by then,” he reminded them quietly, stroking Elaine's hand.