Schriften Der Universitätsbibliothek Freiburg Im Breisgau 11
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Schriften der Universitätsbibliothek Freiburg im Breisgau 11 Herausgegeben von Bärbel Schubel 2 Felix Grayeff: Migrant Scholar Felix Grayeff Migrant Scholar An Autobiography Second edition Edited by Eleonore Engelhardt and Albert Raffelt Freiburg : Universitätsbibliothek, 2003 4 Felix Grayeff: Migrant Scholar Printed edition: © Marianne Grayeff, London, 1986 © Universitätsbibliothek Freiburg i. Br., 1986 ISSN 0179-8383 Electronic edition: URL: http://www.freidok.uni-freiburg.de/volltexte/1037/ © Universitätsbibliothek Freiburg i. Br., 2003 Felix Grayeff: Migrant Scholar 5 CONTENTS 1. Early Education: Home and School (1906-1924) 7 2. The First World War and Its Consequences in a General Sense and for Ourselves (1914-1924) 18 3. Undergraduate Years (1924-1930) 21 4. Search for Work During the Great Depression (1930-1932) 29 5. The End of the Weimar Republic, Nazism and Emigration (1933-1937) 34 6. A Year in Australia (1938) 38 7. Lecturing in New Zealand (1939-1952) 41 8. Change of Outlook (Intellectual Development) 45 Prima Philosophia 52 Epilogue (1953 seqq.) 53 * Appendix: The Meaning of the Geisteswissenschaften 57 * Afterword to the printed edition – Nachwort zur Buchausgabe 1986 65 Afterword to the electronic edition – Zur digitalen Ausgabe 2003 66 Bibliography Felix Grayeff – Bibliographie der Arbeiten von Felix Grayeff 67 ILLUSTRATIONS Felix Grayeff 2 Manuscript 24 6 Felix Grayeff: Migrant Scholar Felix Grayeff: Migrant Scholar 7 Chapter 1 EARLY EDUCATION: HOME AND SCHOOL Königsberg, the capital of East Prussia, was a thriving city when I was born there in 1906. It was famous throughout Germany for its castle in which the first King of Prussia, Friedrich I, had been crowned, and after him Wilhelm I, who was to become the first Emperor of re-united Germany. It was equally famous as the birthplace of Immanuel Kant, who had spent his entire life in Königsberg and written his three great Critiques there. Moreover, its University, founded in the earlier part of the sixteenth century, was well-known and in particular its Medical Faculty was considered to be outstanding. Generally, Königsberg enjoyed high cultural standards and an intense intellectual life. It had its own orchestra, and celebrated conductors as well as soloists regularly came to the city where they played to large, enthusiastic audiences. Königsberg could also boast of three theatres, of which the oldest, the municipal theatre, was principally though not exclusively Königsberg’s Opera House. Of the two other theatres one, recently founded and called the ‘New Playhouse’ was meant to introduce the Königsberg public to the modern authors of the day – Ibsen and Gerhart Hauptmann, Wedekind, Shaw and others. The third of these theatres was devoted to operetta. Königsberg also had three daily papers, one of which was long established and had already been published in the time of Kant, who read it regularly, the Hartungsche Zeitung, known throughout Germany for its liberal views as well as for its excellent comment on all cultural aspects of German life. Who could possibly have foreseen in those days that only forty years later the entire population of Königsberg would be expelled and the very name Königsberg extinguished, to be replaced by a Soviet name, Kaliningrad. Around 1900, however, Königsberg flourished, commercially and financially, because of its proximity to Russia. It was in the port of Königsberg that each year the corn newly harvested in Russia and bought from its Russian producers, the great landowners, arrived, and in turn was sold to all parts of Germany and indeed Europe. Silos had been erected along the banks of the river Pregel, Königsberg’s waterway, and an impressive Corn Exchange built in the middle of the city proper served the essential purposes of handling, that is, purchasing and selling the Russian corn. The total population of Königsberg numbered 200.000 to 250.000 and its Jewish community approximately 3.000. Of these, not a few were first or second generation immigrants, mainly from Lithuania and the Ukraine. On the other hand, some of the Jewish families of Königsberg had roots going back several centuries. My maternal grandfather, who had migrated to Königsberg with his family around 1875 was a cornbroker at the Corn Exchange; my father who had come to Königsberg with his parents as a teenager was an importer and seller of corn. He met my mother, then a girl of thirteen, at my grandfather’s, with whom he had close business contacts; he was my mother’s senior by ten years. I have been told that he fell in love with her almost at first sight, and after a courtship lasting eleven years, he and my mother were married in Königsberg on January 10th, 1906. 8 Felix Grayeff: Migrant Scholar My grandparents were observant Jews as was my father, but my mother, who was born in Königsberg, was less religiously inclined. She did not like to be bound by old customs and rites and thought of herself as German – ‘a German citizen of the Jewish faith’. I believe that neither my grandparents nor my mother thought much of Zionism – although a large photograph of Herzl hung in my grandparents’ drawing room –; the former because they were orthodox to the extent of waiting for the Messiah to lead all Jews back to Jerusalem; my mother, for the reason already mentioned. About my father’s attitude I know nothing because he died too early to tell me of his views. I was the elder of my parents’ two children. My sister was born three years and three months after me. She was called Ellen Cassia. Her first name was my mother’s choice; I believe it was Ellen Terry my mother had in mind. Cassia was derived from the name of my paternal grandmother who had died shortly before my sister was born. My sister has always meant a great deal to me and I will have occasion to speak of her in later parts of this book. One of my earliest recollections is of the Kaiser’s state entry into Königsberg in 1910, when I was four. As it happened, the imperial procession passed through the street where we lived, in a second storey flat, not far from the city’s main railway station. On the great day every one of our windows looking out on this street was packed with our relatives and friends, who had come to see the Kaiser. I, of course, being the son of the family, was given a place right by the window. I still vividly remember the imperial cavalcade, with hussars, ulans, cuirassiers and dragoons as outriders, followed by important personages on horseback and in coaches. Then came the imperial coach drawn by eight white horses. I remember the thunderous cheers as the Kaiser, riding in his state coach with the Empress by his side, was passing. He was followed by more members of his suite again in coaches and on horseback and finally by further detachments of cavalry. Incidentally, it was during this visit to Königsberg that Wilhelm made one of his very silly speeches. An election during the summer had gone against him and soon afterwards, the harvest in Silesia turned out to be poor. Wilhelm solemnly proclaimed in Königsberg on this occasion that the poor harvest was God’s punishment for voting against him. – Two things were explained to me. First, that in contrast to the Russian Tsar, who could not move freely amongst his own subjects because of his constant fear of assassination, the Kaiser was so popular and beloved by his people that not even any special police supervision was needed when he rode in public amidst large crowds; and secondly, that the Kaiser was the only gentleman in Germany who sat on the right of his lady, the Empress, whereas in the case of everybody else it was the lady who sat or walked on the right. Well, I was so impressed and stirred up that for days or weeks afterwards my favourite game was ‘Kaiser’s entry’ – for which I created a whole cavalcade in my nursery, with chairs for coaches, tables for horses, men on horseback, cavalry, outriders and so on. Presumably, I myself was the Kaiser, riding in my rocking chair. Incidentally, the word ‘Kaiser’ in those days was used much in the same sense as the prefix ‘super’ is to-day. The best lollies were known as Kaiser-lollies and my mother called me her ‘Kaiser-pet’. My second recollection is a sad one, of my father, fatally ill with cancer of the throat, sitting in his dressing gown in my nursery on my fifth birthday, and watching me play with a train-set he had given me. I somehow felt his deep distress. He knew that death was coming to him, inexorably. Nine days later he died in Wiesbaden where he and my Felix Grayeff: Migrant Scholar 9 mother stopped on their way to Italy, a journey which the doctors had prescribed for him. He was only forty-one. I was five. Of course, I did not grasp then what his loss must mean to me, but when I grew a little older and began to understand, my father, who had generally been held in high regard, (he had made a great success of his business and been wealthy, almost rich) became, as it were, a legend to me. I often thought of him, and I hoped or dreamt that he might come back. In a sense, I believe that nothing in my life ever quite made up for the loss of my father when I was five. So we had become a one-parent-family. My mother, then thirty-one-years old, was competent in every sense, except as regards matters of business, for which she had neither inclination nor had ever been trained.