Restitution (14 page)

The woman smiled at him from across the room and Theo acknowledged her with a nod of his head and a slight bow. He knew he had charmed this one and was already thinking about how he would convince her to go back to his apartment later that evening. From the looks of things, not too much persuasion would be needed.

His fascination with the hidden meaning of life had all begun years earlier when a close friend had first introduced him to Hieronymus Bosch. This fifteenth-century Dutch surrealist was known for his use of fantasy – dreams and nightmares – to produce religious imagery in his oil paintings. From Theo's perspective, Bosch demonstrated a moral and spiritual truth in his work that was hundreds of years ahead of his time. Bosch's paintings were sometimes erotic, often darkly gruesome, even occasionally amusing. Some thought his paintings were created merely to arouse his audience. Others believed his work was inspired by medieval heresies. It was perhaps both sides of this artistic coin that fascinated Theo.

Years earlier, Theo had visited the Prado Museum in Madrid, specifically to see an exhibit of paintings by Bosch. The entrance to the museum held one of Bosch's more grand and magnificent canvases, the three-panel work known as
The Garden of Earthly Delights
. Each panel portrayed a unique aspect of the origin of man. The panel on the left depicted Adam and Eve in paradise with wondrous animals, calm reflecting ponds, and a God-like figure in the forefront. The middle panel was a portrait of earthly delights, with its nude figures, giant and mutating fruit, and life-sized sparrows and eagles. Hell was depicted in the panel on the right, where sinners were represented in their descent into damnation. Theo had stepped as close to the giant panels as he could, fascinated by the high level of detail, the countless figures, and the great skill and craftsmanship of the artist. The painting was intellectually and spiritually challenging. It was as if the meaning of life, both the origin of humanity and the evil in the world, was there in front of him, hidden from complete understanding. The painting was marvelous and terrifying at the same time, and it had touched a place in Theo that both inspired and confused him.

While gazing at this spectacular work of art, Theo noticed the terrible condition of the canvases, particularly the center panel. It was worn in many places, and the colors had faded and yellowed over time. There were nicks and cracks throughout. It appeared as if the entire image was wasting away, fading before Theo's eyes. He could not believe this degree of decay had occurred in a work of art as exceptional and irreplaceable as this one. Theo turned on his heel and made his way to the administrative offices of the museum. There he demanded to meet with the director. The startled assistant motioned Theo into a large office where he confronted the man in charge.

“That masterpiece has to be restored,” Theo declared.

“Of course, you are right,” the startled director replied. “But we have a limited budget here, and our Spanish painters like Goya and Diego Velázquez are more important to us.”

Theo was undaunted. “What if I help you to secure the funds and organize the restoration?”

He immediately abandoned his work and plans, and for the next year, focused all of his energy and attention on the restoration of the Bosch painting. He begged money from friends and acquaintances, he smooth-talked funds out of European arts organizations, he demanded support from the city of Madrid. He even approached a major automobile company and convinced them to support the project. And, ultimately, he raised the tens of thousands of dollars necessary for a complete refurbishment of
The Garden of Earthly Delights
. There was nothing in it for him – not money, or even notoriety – just an intense desire to right an artistic wrong, and to save the work of the painter he admired so intensely.

“It looks like your opening is a success.” The young woman had made her way across the gallery and now stood directly in front of Theo. He gazed around the room and at the crowd that was beginning to thin. The evening had gone well. Several paintings had sold and many of those in attendance had commented favorably on the gallery itself, promising to return for future exhibits. The featured artist of the evening looked dazed and relieved, and was slumped in a chair off to one side, surrounded by a few remaining admirers. Theo could now turn his attention to the woman in front of him.

“I have a few things left to do before I can leave,” he said, reaching out to stroke her arm.

“My father's already gone,” she replied. “I'll wait for you.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Paris, Summer 1939

THE REISER FAMILY settled into an uneasy calm in Paris. As relieved as they were to have escaped Czechoslovakia, they knew they were not safe yet. They still needed their visas to Canada, and they had to book passage on a ship heading across the Atlantic. Both of these projects were proving to be complicated.

Despite George Harwood's promise that he would provide the family with the entry visas to Canada, Victor was having difficulty securing those papers. Visit after visit to the consulate proved futile and he would return home empty-handed. “It's just a matter of time,” he assured his waiting family. “There are so many forms to fill out, so much information the Canadian government wants. But we'll have the papers soon. I'm sure of it.” Victor sounded hopeful, but Karl wondered if his optimism was misplaced. What did they actually know about George Harwood, and what authority did he really have to assist them? Karl had watched his mother deal with enough dishonest people to question the intentions of anyone who promised to help, especially if that promise was secured with a bribe. Karl struggled with his impressions of Harwood. The man had agreed to save his family, but he was profiting from the family's desperation. Did that make him a hero or a criminal? Karl had learned that one had to be wary, trust few people, and anticipate the worst at every turn. That was the way to survive. And so, Karl and his family waited apprehensively as Victor made repeated visits to meet with officials at the consulate. Karl accompanied his father on one of those trips.

“What do they want to know this time?” he asked as he and his father climbed the stairs of the Canadian consulate one rainy day in early August. Karl had been in Paris for only two weeks, but already was feeling eager to move on. There was little for him and his sister to do here. Their days were spent listening to their parents discuss the arrangements to immigrate to Canada.

The rain and mist cast a gray pallor over Paris, further dampening his already melancholy mood. He thought fleetingly of Rakovník. He might have been swimming in the pond or bicycling through the countryside if he were home, instead of following his father on this seemingly endless mission to get out of Europe.

Victor sighed and stepped up the stairs. There was a limp there that Karl had never seen before, and a heaviness in his bearing that matched the depression that had settled over his personality.

“Haven't the officials already asked you every possible question?” Karl was persistent in the face of his father's silence.

“Who knows what they want, Karl,” Victor replied, wearily. “I think the problem is just that there are so many people wanting to get into their country.”

There were only two categories of people Canada was allowing in at that time: those who had agricultural knowledge and were willing to settle on a farm, and entrepreneurs who could invest a sizeable amount of money into a Canadian business, thus providing employment for local citizens. The Reisers were attempting to get into Canada under the stipulations of the farming category. “Even if we meet the conditions, there is little room for Jews in Canada's policies. So they are scrutinizing us even more closely,” Victor added. Canadian government officials had become increasingly unreceptive to the prospect of admitting Jewish refugees from Europe. Notwithstanding the efforts of pro-refugee groups, the doors to Canada had all but closed by the summer of 1939, and the immigration policies under the leadership of Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King and his cabinet were virtually impenetrable.

On this day, the meeting at the Canadian consulate would be a true test of Victor's knowledge and intuition. When Karl and his father were finally ushered into a meeting room, the official on the other side of the desk had some challenging questions for Victor.

Karl didn't even catch the name of the bland bureaucrat who barely acknowledged them as they took their seats. The man's desk was stacked with a mountain of files, folders, and other papers. He rifled through the heap and finally pulled a single sheet from underneath a pile of documents. “The Canadian government needs to understand how much you actually know about farming methods. This is just a short test that will help us determine your knowledge in the area of agriculture.”

Karl glanced over at his father, wondering what Victor really knew about farming. Even though he had dealt with farmers in his transactions to secure grain crops, it was one thing to appreciate farming from a business perspective, and another to understand the detailed workings of the land. But Victor smiled evenly at the official and replied, “I'm happy to answer any questions you might have.”

The officer continued to examine his documents without looking up. “Yes, yes,” he mumbled. “Now then, how do you tell the age of a cow?”

“By the number of incisors in its mouth,” Victor replied, instantly and confidently.

“And what methods would you use to increase soil moisture and reduce soil erosion?”

A half hour later, the questions had ended, and Victor stood to shake hands with the Canadian official. He had passed the test with no difficulty. “We will let you know about the entry documents shortly,” the man said.

“We are eager to begin our lives in Canada working on a farm,” Victor replied.

The official turned his attention back to the files that threatened to topple on his desk, and dismissed Victor and Karl with a wave of his hand.

“What now?” Karl asked, as he and his father walked quickly back to the hotel.

“Now we wait again,” Victor replied.

Karl sighed and wondered once more if the waiting would ever end. He knew they were luckier than most. At least they were out of immediate harm's way. But this uncertainty was agonizing. And their ordeal was being made all the more tense by the grim news of the approaching war. Europe was mobilizing for battle. And while Poland appeared to be Hitler's intended target, France was highly vulnerable.

“There are rumors that Paris will be bombed,” Marie said that evening as the family gathered to hear about Victor's test at the consulate.

Victor lifted tired eyes to meet his wife's concerned gaze and nodded. “The papers are full of warnings. The good relationship that once existed between France and Germany is gone, I'm afraid.” It was well known that the governments of the two countries had for years agreed to ongoing consultation if international developments threatened either one of them. “Now, France has abandoned Germany in favor of a pact with Britain and Poland. And Germany will not look kindly on France's desertion. If Poland is attacked, France will have no other option but to go to her aid.”

“Do you have any sense at all of when we might hear about the papers?” Marie asked.

Victor shook his head. “I believe that I have answered all of their questions. I'm certain we'll have the visas soon.”

Marie took a deep breath. “I think we should get out of Paris now, before the bombs fall here.” She had been pacing the hotel room for several days, glancing out the window, listening to news reports on the radio, devouring the papers. She was once more on high alert, tuned in to the pulse of the nation, and determining when she might need to mobilize her family. And now she sensed it was time to move. “We'll be safer in the country.”

Victor did not disagree. He too had learned to trust his wife's instincts. And so the family packed up once more and headed north of the city, this time to stay in a small rented château in the village of Vieux Moulin. Karl spent his days taking long walks along the Oise River and through the French countryside where cottages were separated by large squares of forest and meadow. Here amidst the trees and pastures, Karl felt lightness, something he had not experienced in a long time. The air moved more freely here, unencumbered by the compact architecture of Paris, the equally dense population, and the oppressive anticipation of war. Close by, in the city of Compiègne, the armistice had been signed in 1918, ending World War I. As the world stood on the brink of another war, the irony of this did not escape Karl.

Not only could he breathe more freely outside the big city, but he
felt
freer here in the country as well. Though there were no restrictions for Jews in France, no laws governing what they could and couldn't do, and no outright hostility, there was a sense that the French would make a distinction between “their” Jews and “immigrant” Jews. Local Jews would be protected if the conflict in the world escalated, while foreign Jews might be subject to deportation back to their home countries. Here in rural France, away from the political glare of the big city, the threat of deportation seemed less imminent, even though war was just on the horizon.

It was here in the countryside that Karl also dared to think about Canada, a country full of fields and meadows just like the ones surrounding him. That new land awaited his family if only they could reach it. Perhaps he would finish his education there, or work in a productive business, marry, and raise children. He had his whole life ahead of him, and the possibility of living it in a free country was overwhelming. It was after one such walk through the forest that Karl returned to the château to find his mother and sister packing their belongings once more.

“We're going back to Paris,” Marie announced as Karl entered the house.

Hana looked up from her packing and smiled. “Father received word that the visas are ready to be picked up.”