Part 11 (1/2)
”In a few months our uncle, Mr. Leopold Friedlander, will celebrate his ninetieth birthday, on the day before Easter. A short while ago chance threw a Jewish weekly into my hands, in which mention was made of the unusual occasion, and of the significance of Leopold Friedlander's career for Rawitsch. It was not news to me; for at my home mention was often made of my mother's oldest brother, and as a boy I accompanied her once on a visit to him, in order to become acquainted with him. It was shortly after my confirmation,--I mean my--my Bar-Mitzvah. Such childhood recollections remain with one. My mother wished me to recite for him the chapter of the Torah to which I had been 'called up.' This I did, and the impression the moment made must have been very deep, it has remained with me through all the various experiences of my life.”
”To be sure,” Mrs. Benas felt bound to say, in order to hide the embarra.s.sment which had come upon them. ”One never entirely loses the recollections of one's childhood.”
”Why should one? They do not represent our worst side. There are occasions in life when they are forced into the background by weightier, more insistent experiences, but they return most vividly in our maturer years at such times when we search our consciences in a confessional mood. When the restlessness of youth subsides, when the struggle for existence is no longer strenuous, when the goal is attained, then it is that the reminiscences of childhood reappear in full vigor. Such reminiscences do not fade, nor become blurred with time.”
Rita had regarded him throughout with fixed attention.
”It would be desirable for the shaping of one's career, if such impressions were at all times kept vividly in mind,” Hugo said pointedly.
”That is not altogether true,” he responded with a smile. ”It would interfere with one's development if such influences were ever present.
To live amply means to hold control over oneself, and one's personality can be realized and enjoyed only when we have understood and tasted of life in its fulness. Not alone from a one-sided, narrow standpoint, but from the broadest point of view, from the general, the impersonal. Only then can that which is most individual in us develop freely and reach full consciousness.”
He relit his cigarette which he had allowed to go out. ”But we are wandering off into philosophic byways,” he said lightly. ”Such is always the case when youth offers us the wisdom of age. You will forgive me, Herr Kollege. It is a challenge to prove one's life not devoid of experiences.”
Rita thought her brother had deserved this courteously delivered reproof. What could he have been thinking of when he allowed his unpleasant mood to get the better of him? And toward a guest!
”During these last few days I have begun to realize, with surprise and yet with pleasure, how strongly my past took hold of me. I happen to take up a periodical; my eyes chance to light upon a name, whose sound, long forgotten, re-awakens old memories. In a flash, the old times live within me again. I am deeply impressed--the sensation grows upon me ever more vividly, and at last seeks expression. That brings me to you.”
”But how did you happen to come upon this journal?” asked Mr. Benas, merely for the sake of keeping up the conversation.
”At present my interests take me to the department of press and publicity,” he rejoined with a smile, ”and one finds everything there.
That was the way I came upon the notice of the ninetieth birthday of Leopold Friedlander--my--our uncle. The fine old man has attained the age of a veritable patriarch.”
”Yes, Uncle Leopold is well-advanced in years,” Mrs. Benas added; ”the oldest of fourteen brothers and sisters, he is the only one living.”
”Is he in good health, and how does he bear his advanced years? I take it for granted you are in direct communication with him.”
”Certainly, as head of the family he is highly honored by all of us. We visit him almost every year, and my children, too, have received his blessing. He is vigorous, mentally alert, and reads without spectacles, so that his patriarchal age does not obtrude itself upon his visitors.”
”Strangely enough, that is just as I had pictured him to myself. And what of his direct descendants, his sons and daughters?”
”Both daughters are still living, but only one of his three sons.”
”Where do they reside?”
”They all married and remained in Rawitsch. Jacob, who is almost seventy years old, carried on his father's business, which is now in the hands of one of his grandsons.”
”So the firm is perpetuated from generation to generation. The grandson, no doubt, has a family also?”
”Our cousin is still unmarried.”
”And do all live together?”
”Uncle Leopold, since the death of his wife, about twenty years ago, lives with his son.”
”My visit to him took place five years before that, when he was still in active business.”
”When all the children were provided for, he followed the desire of his heart, and devoted himself to the study of the Torah, a pursuit which, as is natural in the oldest son of Rabbi Eliezer, he had always followed with great devotion. Throughout the whole province, too, he is held in esteem, as if he himself were a rabbi worthy to be the spiritual heir of his famous father.”
”These various stages of family life easily escape one moving in quite different circles, but they interest me exceedingly; and I am most grateful to you for this information. The family must have spread greatly, to judge by the number of children our grandfather had; the descendants must be very numerous. Did you know all the brothers and sisters of your mother, Mrs. Benas?”
”I knew all of them, excepting an uncle who died in London, and your own mother.”