The Art of Resistance: Defending Academic Freedom since 1933 | Page 68
The ephrussi family Edmund de Waal
My late paternal grandmother, Elisabeth, was born to the Ephrussi
family, a prosperous Jewish banking dynasty from Odessa who had
made their success in the grain trade. By the nineteenth century, they
were the world’s largest grain exporter, establishing powerful banking
houses in Vienna, Paris and Athens.
Their immeasurable wealth allowed members of the family, and
Charles Ephrussi (1849-1905), in particular, to become patrons of the
arts and collectors of fine furniture and artefacts from around the
world, which adorned the family properties, including the Palais Ephrussi
in Vienna. Charles, a cousin of my paternal grandfather Viktor, broke
with the family business traditions to become an art critic and historian
on whom Proust modelled his character Swann in A la recherche du
temps perdu. Entranced by the marvels arriving from the East, it was
Charles who purchased the 264 Japanese netsuke collection that he
gave as a wedding present to my great-grandparents, Viktor and
Emmy, and which I was eventually inherited from my great-uncle Iggie.
Despite their growing wealth and influence, it could not protect
them from rising anti-Semitism in Europe. Already in 1894, Charles felt
the ripples of the Dreyfus Affair, following which he was snubbed by
Degas and Renoir despite his patronage of both artists.
The rise of the German National Socialist Party heralded worse
and in 1938, which saw the annexation of Austria, my great-grandfather
Viktor Ephrussi and his son Rudolf were arrested by the Gestapo.
They were forced to hand over ownership of the Palais Ephrussi and its
entire contents to avoid being sent to the Dachau Concentration
Camp. The Ephrussi family were confined to two back rooms, whilst the
remainder of the Palace was commandeered for the purpose of Nazi
Party administration under the leadership of the Nazi ideologue,
Alfred Rosenberg. This period saw the collapse of the Ephrussi family
and its wealth. Some of the family fled Vienna to find refuge in
the United States, Mexico and England. Others were less fortunate,
perishing in the camps.
Despite my grandmother Elisabeth’s conversion to Christianity at
that time, she, her Dutch husband Hendrik de Waal and my father Victor
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The Art of Resistance? Defending Academic Freedom
and his brother, Constant, were forced to flee Amsterdam for England.
In all this turmoil, looting and violence, the netsuke collection
survived, hidden under the mattress of a family maid, Anna. It was
returned to Elisabeth after the war and then passed to my great-uncle
Iggie, finding its way back to Japan, where he chose to settle. It was in
Japan that I first saw the netsuke and began to learn of the Ephrussi
story. It is the story of the ascent and decline of a Jewish dynasty,
about loss and diaspora and about the survival of objects. This is still
history that you can reach out and touch, a history that unfolded hour
by hour and day by day in the Palais Ephrussi. The point is not about
the dynasty, the banks, the looting, it is not about the marble and the
gilt ceilings, it is about the fact that this is a family story that survives
and gets passed on. I feel that by sharing and telling our family stories,
we can help restore their past.
My grandmother Elisabeth remained proud of her Jewish
heritage. Her book, The Exile’s Return, which tells the fictional stories
of five people who go back to Vienna after the war, drew strongly on
her own experience. The book reveals the difficulties faced by refugees
who return hoping to restore their former lives.
My father, Victor, was brought up a practising Anglican, became a
priest. My brothers and I were raised in Lincolnshire, where he was
Chancellor of Lincoln Cathedral. He also served as university chaplain
at Kings College, Cambridge (1959-63) and Nottingham (1963-69). He
received an Honorary Fellowship from the University of Birmingham
and went on to become Dean of Canterbury (1976-86). My mother,
Esther, was a historian and expert in Celtic spirituality and folklore.
Victor’s life has in many respects been shaped by his own
experience of exile. He has spent years supporting the Refugee Council
to which he also donated the royalties of his mother’s book. In his
words “As a refugee myself I was blessed with good fortune.
Many people today are not so lucky. We at the CENTRE [Cross Street
Baptist Church refugee centre] care for refugees from all over the
globe escaping war or despotic regimes who need our help. Britain is
still a welcoming country and long may it remain so”.
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