A Woman of Independent Means Read online

  Love to Manning

  and the baby,

  Bess

  June 11, 1913

  London

  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.

  Ever your

  Bess

  August 12, 1913

  Florence

  Dear Lydia,

  Despite our truncated stay here, we have managed to see all the art masterpieces I had studied in school and quite a few I had not.

  Mother Steed was somewhat shocked when she saw Michelangelo’s David for the first time, and the size is indeed overwhelming. Though I myself am not shocked by anything I see in stone, I was not prepared for Italian men in the flesh. In every other country my very obvious condition has protected me from all the suggestions to which a woman traveling alone is prey. In Italy my condition, if noticed at all, appears only to enhance my attractiveness to the opposite sex. Even Mother Steed cannot walk down the street without comment. At home a forty-five-year-old widow is considered old; in Italy she is merely regarded as ripe. This is definitely the country to visit when your children are grown and you are beginning to feel your life is over—though, frankly, I cannot imagine ever feeling that way.

  If we spoke Italian perhaps we could carry on an intelligent conversation with the men who follow us everywhere, but as it is we have to try to ignore the remarks they address to us and speak only to each other. Since arriving in Italy, we have gotten in the habit of eating dinner in our hotel rooms with the children, and we have given up our evening strolls after dinner. I bought an Italian-English dictionary and study it faithfully each evening but so far have not been able to find any of the words spoken to me by the men on the street.

  I am delighted that Manning is joining Rob in business. When will you be moving to Dallas? I look forward to helping you find and furnish a house. Much is expected of the wife of a man going into business in a new city. I know Rob will give Manning the benefit of his experience and I will do no less for you.

  Affectionately,

  Bess

  August 15, 1913

  Rome

  Beloved,

  How I miss you! These warm Italian nights create such longings inside me. It is unbearable to be alone.

  We went for a long carriage ride tonight and saw the ruins by moonlight. Time seems so fluid here. We step back and forth from past to present and I can even glimpse the future, imagining grandchildren and great-grandchildren retracing our footsteps through the Forum.

  You would enjoy this city more than any we have seen. That must be why I think I see you on every street corner—or perhaps it is simply our long separation that causes me to envision what I most long to see. Our unborn child is already demanding its right to a separate identity. I was almost asleep just now when the kicking woke me. Now all is still again but I cannot go back to sleep so I sit awake dreaming of once again lying in your arms.

  All my love,

  Bess

  August 19, 1913

  Naples

  Dear Papa and Mavis,

  This is the last letter you will receive with a foreign postmark.

  Today we visited the ruins of Pompeii. Mother Steed says if she had a choice she would die like a citizen of Pompeii—caught without warning in the midst of life. Not I. I intend to give as much thought to my death as I have to my life. Nor do I want to be just another name in a long list of victims. I have no intention of being associated in death with people whose company I would not choose in life.

  What is there about traveling in Europe that makes one view one’s own life as part of history? It is an exhilarating feeling and one I never experienced living in Texas. But it is a perspective I plan to keep for the rest of my life.

  All my love,

  Bess

  Mr. and Mrs. Robert Randolph Steed

  proudly announce the birth

  of their first daughter

  Eleanor Elizabeth

  born August 25, 1913

  aboard the “Nuovo Mondo”

  en route from Naples, Italy, to Galveston, Texas

  October 12, 1914

  Dallas

  Frau Heinrich Mittler

  6 Mindenstrasse

  München, Deutschland

  My dear Frau Mittler,

  Annie has just told me of the sad loss of your son in the war. My deepest condolences. I am heartsick at what has befallen all the places and people we came to love just a summer ago. It is difficult for us to understand at this distance what is happening in Europe. No matter what official position our country takes, I will remain torn between the two sides, like my own great-grandmother, who had sons fighting against each other in our War Between the States.

  You were so kind to us when we were in Germany, and Annie is like a member of our own family. You have my assurance that she will be always.

  With deepest sympathy and abiding affection, I remain,

  Yours truly,

  Bess Steed

  May 15, 1915

  Dallas

  Dear Papa and Mavis,

  It breaks my heart to think of the fate that has befallen our lovely Lusitania since she carried us across the Atlantic two years ago. And though I pray we will return some day, we will never again see the Europe we saw in 1913.

  We are all in good health, though Rob is working so hard I fear for his. Life insurance keeps him away from home more than I would like, but a new business is much like a new baby. It demands your total attention in the early years but soon grows quite independent. Eleanor no longer walks anywhere, she runs. None of us can keep up with her. I hope there is a special angel that looks out for small children because it is an impossible task for anyone without wings.

  Annie has been in a state of great emotional stress ever since the war started, and I am afraid the job of caring for the children has become too much for her. So I have relieved her of that responsibility and her work is now confined to housekeeping. I have hired a lovely Scottish gentlewoman, the mother of the golf pro at the Dallas Country Club, to look after the children. Her name is Flora McCullough and her brogue is as pronounced as Annie’s thick German accent but it is a more pleasing sound, especially in these troubled times. She is quite a bit older than Annie but the children are past the age of needing purely physical care; what they require now is someone from a background compatible to their own to give direction to their minds.

  Much love,

  Bess

  AUGUST 5 1916

  DALLAS

  ROBERT STEED

  JEFFERSON HOTEL

  ST LOUIS MISSOURI

  ELEANOR STRUCK BY AUTO IN COMA AT BAYLOR

  COME HOME AT ONCE

  BESS

  August 12, 1916

  Dallas

  Mr. Arthur Fineman


  1300 N. Beckley

  Oak Cliff, Texas

  Dear Mr. Fineman,

  Thank you for your letter of last week. I was not able to answer it until today when my child finally emerged from her coma. The multiple fractures she suffered left her immobile from head to toe. But this morning when she opened her eyes and smiled at me for the first time in a week, I felt as if she had leapt out of bed.

  Thank you for your offers of assistance but we have the means of dealing with this emergency. Let me assure you again in writing that my husband and I have no intention of pressing any legal charges against you. My child stepped directly into the path of your car, and no driver could have humanly avoided the accident that followed.

  I hold myself responsible. I had her hand in mine when she suddenly pulled free and ran to join her older brothers who had crossed the street ahead of us with their nurse. I ran after her and reached for her just as she stepped into the street—but too late. I have relived this scene continuously since it happened, as I am sure you have too. I cannot talk about it with anyone in my family; you are the only one who can share my guilt. Even my beloved husband appears to me now in the guise of grief-stricken father, and his usually comforting presence serves only as an unspoken reproach. I have never felt more alone in my life.

  Life is so much more dangerous now than it was when I was growing up. I lived in a small town without sidewalks, and I remember skipping in the street alongside horses and carriages, with no thought that anything on wheels could ever hurt me or anything I loved. But that was before the automobile.

  I must close now. Eleanor is waking up again.

  Yours truly,

  Bess Steed

  August 15, 1916

  The Clouds

  Darling Eleanor,