Death of Maurice Schmidt

October 19, 2016

We are saddened to announce the death, at the age of 81, of Maurice Schmidt, husband of Ève Herscovici, an Abadi child. Although not an Abadi child himself, Maurice too was hunted by the Nazis and owed his life to his family’s flight to the Cévennes.

May Ève, her brother Armand Herscovici and the whole family accept our most sincere condolences.

Below is the tribute given by Armand at his funeral on October 24, 2016 in Arles, where he was born and had always lived.

Maurice, my brother-in-law, was my friend. My great friend. Today, on this so sad and so terrible occasion, I am speaking to recall his memory. I do so in my own name, but also on behalf of all those close to him gathered here – his wife, his children and all the other members of the family, present or far away.

Is it possible to sum up a life in a few sentences without diminishing its significance? No doubt not – except perhaps by limiting oneself to the strong values that marked it. And Maurice’s life did not lack them.

Our world of sound and fury is harsh, selfish, poor in altruism and generosity, often cruel and dehumanised. Maurice was able to pass through it without ever losing what made him a unique person, going against the grain of most of his contemporaries. Whatever the circumstances, whoever he was dealing with, he always radiated an exceptional human quality for which I know no equivalent.

It was not a matter of ethics or morality, which are concepts of the mind. Maurice was an intelligent man, but he was not guided by abstract considerations. He had no need of them. With him, the heart came first – and it was big, enormous – without any naivety or lack of realism.

How many of his patients were healed as much by the care he gave them as by the comforting, cheerful warmth he offered them at the same time? There was nothing mawkish in the light words he spoke in his gentle voice – only calm, sincere, authentic words. Everyone felt they came from the heart. They caressed the soul with simple, natural effectiveness; they were layered over the manipulations of his powerful hands and amplified their effect. Maurice was a wonderful carer. He mastered the techniques, which all his life he strove to perfect. He was a first-rate practitioner and applied himself to it with determination. But he also had the intuition of the heart, which soothes and reassures, and his many patients appreciated him for it.

That was Maurice.

How many friends wounded by life did he help? And when the Grim Reaper carried some of them off, how many of their loved ones did he support in their grief? There was no calculation in his approach, no expectation of anything in return, nothing artificial in the warmth of his behaviour. Overflowing with tremendous vital energy, he knew how to pass it on at the right moment to those who needed it, with the most authentic spontaneity. The effects were in proportion, and for a great many people. Some of them are here.

I have often heard the word “kindness” used about him. Certainly, when you were with him, the word came immediately to mind. But his kindness was only the foam on top of the wave. In everyday life it remained simple kindness, showing itself in the ordinary course of things without ever failing. With it, and with his natural cheerfulness, he turned the slightest event into a little celebration. That was already considerable – wonderful, even; few people are capable of it, and far be it from me to minimise its importance. But there was much more. When difficulty or misfortune struck, his kindness unfolded in its true dimension, going far beyond mere amiability. It became friendship in its purest form, deep affection, love, compassion – or perhaps something else that no word can name, and which would be all of these at once. He gave help and support with unequalled strength, generosity and simplicity. His heart spoke, and it was tremendous.

That was Maurice.

How many can boast of having done as much as he did for those close to him? Let us not speak of the absolute love he gave them throughout his life – self-evident for him – but rather of how he put it into practice at certain crucial moments. He magnificently backed, supported and encouraged his wife when she wanted to build a new career. It was a heavy undertaking, which everyone knew would take several years. Success came at the end of the road, very much thanks to him, and Ève’s life was changed.

He made extraordinary sacrifices – I really do mean extraordinary – so that his children could pursue the professions they wanted. There is no need to go into detail, but how could I not mention it today? And there too there was success, and lives that matched each one’s wishes.

That was Maurice. Ready to do anything for those he loved, sometimes beyond what others, supposedly more reasonable, would have dared.

But that was not all he was. He loved life and showed it in a thousand ways. He adored music, and did not merely admire it. I don’t know the staggering number of concerts he organised in Arles over the years, and I wonder where he found all those orchestras, singers and performers, but they were always a success. He did it with the joy and energy that never left him, to share with others the pleasure he felt.

Few people know this, because besides the qualities I have mentioned he was modest and reserved, but he had a fine talent as an interior designer, which he put to work with his usual energy in his professional premises and his home. In both, those who knew him well can recognise his touch and his warmth.

He loved entertaining. Every time was a celebration. Nothing was too good for his guests. He was a delightful cook and had a gift for decorating the dishes he made in a very personal way, giving them an appetising look, at once simple and elegant, that amazed people.

That was Maurice too.

His life had meaning. On his own scale, he gave an enormous amount to the community he lived in. As I have said, many are those whose lives he improved in all sorts of ways, and those to whom he brought joy. In doing so, he made a positive contribution to human society. Put another way, I would say that within his sphere of action, and armed with his admirable human qualities, he made our world a little better. That is a fine record. His time on Earth was not in vain. Yes, his life had meaning.

Such was the husband, the father, the friend, the wonderful man who has left us.

Maurice, my friend, everyone loved you. No one will forget you. Know this, wherever you are.

Farewell, Maurice. Farewell, Marco. And thank you.

Armand Herscovici – October 24, 2016