A Woman of Independent Means (6 page)

Dear Heart,

I am in London for the first time in my life but I cannot turn a corner without feeling I have been here before. I know now I have been a traveler all my life, but until this summer all my voyages took place within the covers of books. Today we visited the house where Charles Dickens wrote my beloved
David Copperfield
. I remember weeping as I read it, and today as I stood looking at his desk, I felt sure he wept writing it.

I go to the theater whenever I can arrange it. Yesterday Mother Steed accompanied me to a brilliant production of Henrik Ibsen's
A Doll's House
. I am sure you would have found it as silly a play as your mother did. For the first time on the trip, I was grateful you were not with us.

I have not heard from you since we landed. I hope you are not too lonely without us. What have you been doing to amuse yourself? Please be specific when you reply as my imagination tends to run rampant at this distance. I trust Hans is taking good care of you. Annie assures me he is an excellent cook but I would like to hear it from you.

Annie is very homesick and cries herself to sleep every night. If it were not for the chance to visit her family in Germany, she would be on the next ship home. But I hold Hans responsible for her emotional state. She tells me he was very opposed to her making this trip and the day of her departure spoke of nothing but how lonely he would be without her, with no appreciation at all of the opportunities ahead of her. There are few men in the world as unselfish as you, my dearest, and Annie is certainly not married to one of them.

England abounds with evidence of the great love Queen Victoria bore her Albert and the overwhelming sense of loss she experienced at his death. At Windsor Castle she ordered the bells to toll continually for a
week
following his death. After a day the sound became unbearable to her, and she ordered the bell tower swathed in black woolen to muffle the mournful tones, but the tolling of the bells continued. She had all her fine clothes put away and wore black for the rest of her life. Our guide was quite offended when I dared question whether the Queen was truly honoring her consort's memory by ceasing to live her own life. If anything were to happen to me, I hope you would continue with unabated enthusiasm and determination in the direction you are now going, without guilt or grief, knowing that your life was the only life left to me.

Why is it that during even the shortest separation one's mind keeps returning to that ultimate separation?

I love you with
all my heart,
Bess

July 3, 1913
Paris

Dear Papa and Mavis,

At last we are in Paris—“Cité de la Lumière” (Mavis, please translate for Papa). It is everything I imagined it would be. If only I had been born here! How I would love to claim this city for my own!

I am grateful for every hat Mademoiselle Girard and I made and for every verb we conjugated. Both have been put to frequent use since our arrival three days ago.

It is exhilarating to find that I can communicate in a foreign tongue, though my linguistic abilities are more appreciated by Frenchmen who cannot speak English themselves. In the hotel, though I always begin my questions in French, the concierge insists on answering in English, and rather than prolong the unspoken rivalry, I end by speaking English too. I have yet to meet a Frenchman who does not consider himself my superior.

Affectionately,
Bess

July 11, 1913
Munich

Dear Heart,

All of us are enchanted with Bavaria, and Annie is happier than I have ever seen her. In England she was homesick for Hans, in France she was openly hostile, but here she is genuinely happy.

She took us to meet her family and they received us with great warmth and courtesy. If it were not for Hans, she would be telling us good-bye here. I hope he understands how close he has come to losing her on this trip. Few husbands realize what a tenuous hold they have on their wives. Like magnets, they only attract within a limited range. But I have yet to travel beyond the powers of your love. Everything in me is drawn to you—no matter how far afield I roam.

I trust I have the same effect on you, though the language in your letters is so guarded I sometimes wonder. Why are men so shy about saying things that they are not the least bit shy about doing?

I appreciate your taking the time to write your letters in long-hand, but are you sure your secretary is not still reading them? (Ha!) When I write to you, we are as alone as we are in our bed. But when I read your letters, I feel we are still being chaperoned—though by whom and for what reason I cannot fathom.

No, I am wrong and you are right. Words cannot take your place. I will not torment you further with my unappeased longing, but will suffer in silence until you are close enough to quiet the cries of which you are at once cause and cure.

You are my life,
Bess

July 25, 1913
Vienna

Dear Heart,

What I feared has come to pass. Annie did not leave Germany with us. She said she would think about rejoining us in Italy, but she could not promise.

When I mentioned Hans, she broke into tears and said she was convinced he was unfaithful. I asked what possible evidence she could have for such a statement, and she said the tone of his letters had changed drastically in the last few weeks. In the beginning he wrote only of his loneliness without her—but lately he has begun to urge her to enjoy herself and not think about him. To her this could only mean he had found someone to take her place in his affections.

I assured her she was being absurd. Not once have you lamented your loneliness, but only a fool would read into that any implication of infidelity. Why are women so afraid they are risking the affection of their husbands by asserting their independence?

I love you all the more for encouraging me to take this trip without you and to see for myself how much the world has to offer the solitary traveler.

All my love,
Bess

July 29, 1913
Vienna

Dear Papa and Mavis,

Vienna is like a city out of another century. People no longer live in this manner anywhere else in the world. The charm and courtesy of the people and their civilized life style are very attractive to me. I have found much to admire in every city we have visited but if I had to choose a place to live in Europe it would be Vienna.

Annie stayed in Germany with her family, so Mother Steed and I take the children wherever we go. Last night there was a special performance of Offenbach's
Tales of Hoffmann
at the theater in the Schönbrunn Palace in honor of Emperor Franz Josef, and I was fortunate enough to secure four tickets. Robin and Drew applauded for the Emperor with greater enthusiasm than anyone in the audience, though Robin was disappointed he was not wearing a crown and a velvet robe with an ermine collar, like the ones he saw in the Tower of London. I am sure many of those present wondered why anyone would bring children that age to such an adult event, but they may well be the only members of their generation in America to have applauded an emperor and whether they remember or not, it is a fact.

Affectionately,
Bess

 

AUGUST 5 1913
WIEN

ANNIE HOFFMEYER
6 MINDENSTRASSE
MÜNCHEN DEUTSCHLAND
CHILDREN ILL AM FIGHTING EXHAUSTION DELAYING
DEPARTURE FOR ITALY PLEASE COME AT ONCE

BESS STEED

 

 

August 7, 1913
Vienna

Dear Heart,

Please do not worry when you read this. We are fine now, but I wanted you to know of the change in our itinerary.

Three days ago Drew became ill with the grippe, and by dawn the next day, after a sleepless night for all of us, Robin shared his symptoms. I wired Annie immediately and she arrived this afternoon. The first thing she did was put me to bed. I slept until dinner and am now feeling much better. Everyone else is asleep for the night. Just seeing Annie again is the best medicine the children could have.

I have wired the hotels in Italy to change our reservations. Mother Steed suggested we skip Venice and proceed directly to Florence, but I am unequivocally opposed to omitting anything from our itinerary. I hope and pray this is not my last trip to Europe, but I have no assurance of anything beyond tomorrow, and, providing of course that the children are well enough to travel, tomorrow will find us in Venice.

All my love,
Bess

August 9, 1913
Venice

Dear Heart,

We arrived yesterday just as the sun was setting into the Grand Canal, the perfect hour to see Venice for the first time—if indeed we have actually
seen
Venice. It is more like a dream to me.

The children seem to be completely recovered. However, except for a gondola ride this afternoon, they have stayed in the hotel with Annie all day.

Annie said my telegram was just what she needed to force her to a decision. Her brother had already urged her to sail home with us from Naples. He is convinced war is on the way and he told her if she didn't leave now, she might never see the United States or her husband again. A letter from Hans was waiting for Annie here. I have no idea what he said but fortunately Annie is now convinced he has remained faithful in her absence and anxiously awaits her return. As I trust you do mine.