Childhood


The time was also suitable to enlarge his family: I was born in 1919, 26 
November and my sister Mira in 1923, 18 February.  Two decades of
prosperity  and happiness were to follow, the period of my childhood and
youth when the  sky remained always clear and cloudless, sheltered under the
secure roof of a  loving family.  At that time I was certainly not aware of the
great wealth I  inherited from my parents.  To be sure, not wealth based on
material achievements, but their appreciation of spiritual and moral values,
their nobility of  mind, their generosity and kindness toward human beings. 
Still I hear my  mother's words ringing in my ears: 'Ucite djeco, ucite.  Sve
vam se moze uzeti samo znanje ne!' ('Learn children, learn.  Everything can be
taken from you except  knowledge!') And even though we were lucky to grow
up in wealth and  opulence we were repeatedly told to be modest and
unpretentious in behaviour  and dress, especially in the presence of lower-class
people or in school.      Class distinctions were then still part of the social
order; the difference  between the 'served' and the 'server' were much greater
than today, when  machines have replaced manpower.  But a few decades ago
an average bourgeois  household, even the poorest, had at least one help.  We
had more.  Primitive,  ignorant folk from villages came to serve in town, as
domestics, cooks, chambermaids in households, cleaners and other employees
in offices, banks and shops.  Many of the 'served' thought of having the right
to give orders to the 'servant',  not always in a polite way - social insurance
was hardly known.  In our home  the servants were never ordered but politely
asked to perform the various jobs.  We were told that especially to such
people we must be kind, considerate and  obliging because we were lucky not
to be in their positions.     It seems to me that one of the main reasons for my
happy childhood was  complete agreement between my parents in all
important issues concerning our  education, political, religious and others
which in a great part was due to my  mother's submissiveness to anything my
father decided.  My father had an  impulsive nature and would lose his temper
easily, raising his voice very high;  indeed he could shout for a trifle, but only
for a short time - a few minutes  later he became entirely calm, forgetting the
reason for his excitement.  My  mother had apparently learned to face such
situations and never answered or opposed him.  It was perhaps her natural
instinct and obviously her calm and composed nature telling her that it was
wise to let the storm pass.  She never contradicted my father during his
'sanguine' attacks.  In fact, my mother agreed in everything with my father,
and I think this was not only the case in her children's presence.  'Tata je
najbolji covjek na svijetu' ('Papa is the best man in the world') she repeated
frequently.  She strongly believed in my father's unfailing capabilities and
conveyed this feeling to us.  The great confidence I had in my father, the belief
that whatever he did or decided was right came partly, if not completely, from
my mother.
     I said not completely because the main reason that we and many others
trusted my father was his enormous self-confidence, his intrepidity and
courage in making decisions, his firmness of character and his optimism.  My
father's authority was felt at home as well as in his office, in the less significant
matters of his private life as well as in his business where he perpetually
originated new ideas, planned new projects and methods to increase
commercial possibilities. At home, he not only planned our journeys but also
packed up our luggage because mother was too excited and felt bad before
every trip; he chose the best gifts for mother and for us when he was abroad
on business, which occurred frequently, in dresses, bags, sweets, toilet
articles, etc.  In all matters his good taste was not lacking.
     My great love for, and understanding of, music came certainly from my
father. I shall never forget the great surprise awaiting me at home when we
returned from our summer vacation: a huge, black Ehrbar was standing in the
corner of our living-room.  It was my father's present for my tenth birthday. 
That year I started piano lessons and practiced for almost ten years.  How
proudly father listened to my playing and followed my progress.  He preferred
the classics and above all Beethovens 'Eroica'.  He also liked Slavic folk-songs
and sometimes played them on a string instrument, the tamburica, very
popular in Slavic countries. Of course, it was due a great deal to mother's
influence and her high, firm opinion about my father's capabilities that made us
so fond of him: he knew everything, he remembered historical dates and
events, he could solve difficult problems in math, he translated for us a French
passage, he explained an experiment in physics.  My greatest pleasure was to
discuss with him school lessons: history, geography, languages; he was versed
in everything.  In particular I liked to repeat with him Latin verses, proverbs
and famous sayings.  My father was enormously sensitive to whatever pain his
children suffered.  I remember an incident when I was five years old and had
an operation - my tonsils were being removed.  My father hearing me scream
shouted at the surgeon,'You are killing my child!' Two years later, when I
became ill and had to stay away from home in an institute for sick children in
Semmering, near Vienna, my father was always there to put me to bed and to
spoil me; after a short time, when he realized that I was homesick, he decided
to leave me with mother in a hotel where I received individual treatment. 
With all his energy and resolute nature he was so soft, so gentle, so kind.
     Yes, it was not the kind of spoiling children in acceding to every whim they
might have, neither was it a blind love of embraces and kisses.  Our education
was well planned; modesty and gratitude, duties towards ourselves and others
and self-discipline were essential.  Far from the old-fashioned blind obedience
of children versus parents, my parents were liberal and understanding and
patient to hear and discuss our problems.  Evidently there was a limit to our
liberty; we knew exactly the difference between us and our parents and there
was a certain respect, apparently embedded in us with our mother's milk. 
When I sometimes asked my father why he was permitted to do something
which I was not allowed, he said: 'Quod licet Jovi, non licet bovi' ('What is
allowed to Jupiter is not permitted to the ox'), which was one of his favourite
proverbs, and no other explanation was given.
     I said that the relationship between us and our parents was liberal, indeed it
was, but only partly.  Some subject matters could not be argued; for example,
sex, birth and divorce.  I cannot remember that the word 'pregnant' was ever
mentioned in our house, and when there was a divorce in the family it was
whispered like a secret.  When I had my first period - I was not yet twelve - I
cried bitterly at seeing the blood because I was completely unprepared for the
event.  Mother comforted me, assuring me that this was the normal course of
a girl's development and no illness.  With this the case was closed; further
questions were not answered.  For many years I believed that storks brought
babies to their parents; as soon as I could write I wrote a letter, assisted by my
little sister, to Mrs Stork -gospodja Roda - in Maksimir, the Zoo in Zagreb, to
bring us a little brother.  My father who had to post the letter, kept it for my
wedding day.  To be sincere, I was never curious about sex and did not
enquire. Later, in the fifth or sixth grade of secondary school my girlfriends
supplied me with appropriate books, mainly based on Freudian interpretations. 
The parental love was reflected in the care to enrich us with knowledge,
'Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven'3,
no expense was spared, no effort forsaken to offer us the opportunity to
study.  The knowledge of languages was an important part of the educational
system in the circles I belonged to, in particular in the Slavic countries whose
languages were not spoken in the 'big world, not like French, German or
English, the languages of the Western civilization.  A German Fraulein was
engaged as soon as I knew enough Croatian.  Playing with her and listening to
her stories I learned German.  I was then four.  The fact that our grandmother
in Osijek did not speak Croatian was all the more reason to learn German in
order to communicate with her.  In the second grade of elementary school I
had a private teacher for French, and in the fourth grade of secondary school I
started private lessons in English.  For as long as I can remember, my father
was always busy; he left home early, came back for lunch, had half an hour
rest and returned to his office.  Mother's day too started early, even though
she stayed at home with her mother and servants to help her in the household. 
Everyone had his own obligation and was never idle, thus, since my early
childhood, I learned to appreciate the value of time. 
Table of Contents
My Dear Little Sister