The Story of a Life Read Online Free PDF Page A

absolute. The night air would be torn by the calls of birds of prey, and wolves howled. Uncle Felix had a forthright attitude toward nature. From childhood he’d loved plants and animals. His father, anelderly rabbi, did not look kindly upon his lifestyle or his occupation, but neither did he preach to him, because he also had a kind of hidden yearning for animals: he kept bees in his garden.
    In the summer of 1937, life changed beyond recognition. The government became anti-Semitic, and the police sided with the rabble and the underworld. Boundaries were swept away, and robbery became a nightly occurrence. Uncle Felix—who had lived on the estate since his youth, had built the house, cultivated the fields, and preserved the forests, and had mingled in non-Jewish society—tried not only to hold on but also to fight back. At night he’d put on his wool cap and go out to chase away the thieves. One night he caught a youth of around fifteen who swore on the life of Jesus that he would never steal again. Uncle Felix was not satisfied with this oath and insisted upon a specific pledge. Out of sheer terror, the youth fell on his knees, pleaded, and then burst into bleating sobs. Uncle Felix let him go, and, like an animal suddenly released, the youth bolted in the direction of the gate.
    Aunt Regina passed away that summer, and in accordance with her wishes, there was a secular funeral. She had asked to be buried on the estate, on one of the hillocks that overlooked the valley and its little brooks. Uncle Felix, who had loved her and her whims, took great care to carry out her wishes exactly as she had requested. Poems by Rilke were read aloud at her grave, armfuls of flowers were placed there, and a quartet played Mozart sonatas. The quartet, which had been brought over from Czernowitz, played morning and night throughout the entire seven days of mourning. Aunt Regina had left a list of compositions, and it was in this order that they were played.
    Aunt Regina hated Orthodox Jewish rituals. For years Uncle Felix had tried to change her mind. Once a Jew arrivedat the estate in traditional garb. When she saw him, she began shouting hysterically, as if the house had been infiltrated by ghosts.
    After Aunt Regina’s death, Uncle Felix changed, becoming increasingly withdrawn. Sometimes he’d come into town and sit in our drawing room and drink lemon tea. Father and Mother adored him. We knew he was knowledgeable in many fields, but his knowledge wasn’t flaunted, and he was never opinionated or full of himself. He would bring me special toys and talk to me as if I were already grown up, because he had a theory that children are endowed with a keen sensibility and natural intelligence and that they should be listened to. He could back this up with Latin idioms and quotes from the Talmud.
    Once I heard him say to Mother, “What a pity the Jews don’t know what an incredible culture they possess. If they knew, they’d cry like children.”
    When he came to the city, he would stay at our home. The hotel that he loved had gone bankrupt, and he couldn’t stand any others. Whenever he had an opportunity to come to town, he’d bring us some precious item from his collection. Mother would scold him, but Uncle Felix argued that no man knew when his time will be up, and that he preferred to distribute his valuables among those he loved and while he was still alive. I was given a lovely antique Italian violin. Uncle Felix had tested my hearing and pronounced, “Excellent hearing. You deserve a violin.”
    For my part, I promised to practice every day for at least three hours.
    EVEN MY UNCLE was not aware of how prescient he was: the situation deteriorated from month to month. At first hefought with the thieves and robbers; when he was told that the robbers were actually in cahoots with the police, he pitted himself against the police. But the moment the official responsible for the region sided with the rabble-rousers, Uncle Felix had