Abstract
The well-known Dutch critic, Garmt Stuiveling, supports a negative opinion of Paul van Ostaijen’s prose work. His comments betray perplexity and a reluctance to allow Van Ostaijen’s work a permanent place in the development of modem literary history. Van Ostaijen’s achievement, especially that of the tales, continues to bewilder even some of the more sophisticated interpreters. Critical mystification expresses itself in terms of barely concealed denigrations: experimentation, inaccessibility, five-finger exercises, diffuse multiplicity.1 No one would ever assert that Van Ostaijen smoothed a path for the critic; he made no concessions to his readers. But he did not wilfully erect a fence to keep out intruders. A relatively large body of critical commentary on his own and his contemporaries’ artistic endeavors indicates his desire to provide a theoretical correlative to his artistic productions. In most cases a patient reading of these theoretical writings would illuminate the alleged opacity of his work. Such an endeavor would refute the contention that the prose work contains inscrutable experiments without unity or pattern. Most tales share a common narrative perspective. Tracing the major ramifications of this fictional world necessitates the exclusion of many details. Their exclusion is a sacrifice to the emphasis on the tales’ overall thematic unity.*
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References
Garmt Stuiveling, Uren Zuid (Hasselt, 1960), pp. 68–70.
Citations from Van Ostaijen in the text are from the collected works: Verzameld Werk, ed. Gerrit Borgers, 4 vols. (Antwerpen, Den Haag, Amsterdam, 1952–1956). This edition has been divided into two sections of “poetry” and “prose” of two volumes each. To maintain such a division would result in confusion, hence for reasons of clarity and common sense, the afore-mentioned edition is referred to as if it were a uniform one by a Roman numeral for each of the four volumes. A second, revised edition of the collected works is being published. But, unfortunately, the last volume is still wanting at the present time. This edition is more inclusive than the former and always prints the first known original of the texts. Between 1963 and 1966, three of the four volumes have been printed. The last, containing all of Van Ostaijen’s critical work, promises to print those pieces which in the earlier edition were omitted. Page references to Van Ostaijen’s work appear almost always in the text, in order to reduce superfluous footnotes.
From a letter to Geo van Tichelen, dated April 1919. This, probably the earliest letter from Van Ostaijen’s sojourn in Berlin, has been printed in De Tafelronde, XI, no 1 (1966), pp. 2–4.
Aldous Huxley in his essay on “Breughel” parallels some of Van Ostaijen’s interpretations, without presenting Breughel as a painter of the grotesque. Though Huxley may still call Breughel “the natural historian of the Flemish Folk,” a painter of that “peculiarly Flemish scatological waggery,” whose art is an “anthropological type of painting,” he also senses a reflective side to the Flemish master. Huxley notes that `Breughel’s later pictures, painted when he had really mastered the secrets of his art, are not comic at all.“ The British writer also agrees with Van Ostaijen’s view that Breughel’s figures are more contour than substance. ”All the objects in his pictures (which are composed in a manner that reminds one very much of the Japanese) are paper-thin silhouettes arranged, plane after plane, like the theatrical scenery in the depth of the stage.“ Huxley merely hints at a grotesque element in his statement that ”seen thus, impassively, from the outside, the tragedy does not purge or uplift; it appalls and makes desperate; or it may even inspire a kind of gruesome mirth.“ Note how similar the last statement is to Van Ostaijen’s discussion of Breughel’s style. Aldous Huxley, Collected Essays (New York, 1958), pp. 135–144.
Mynona [pseud. Salomon Friedlaender], Rosa die schöne Schutzmannsfrau (Leipzig, 1913), p. 19.
Stuiveling, Uren Zuid, pp. 69–70.
Gerrit Borgers in his introduction to the anthology of grotesques and poems by Van Ostaijen, Music-Hall (Den Haag, Antwerpen, 1964), p. 20.
“The Gang of the Trunk” attracted some attention when it was published posthumously in a collection of grotesques bearing the same title (1932). This particular story dealt satirically with the Belgian Royal Family A vehement denunciation of Van Ostaijen came from a certain “Rip,” who castigated the story as “vieselijk proza, deze smerige smaad tot den Koning en Koningin der BelgenChrw(133) walgelijke majesteitsschennisChrw(133)” From “Dichterverheerlijking?,” De Nieuwe Gazet, April 2/3, 1932. A sober reply to this patriotic outburst was supplied by Geert Crub who had understood the main intention of the story — that Van Ostaijen was writing about a mad era and a world outof-joint. “Chrw(133) uw tijd, uw leiders en afgoden, zijn en hunne ontaarding waar ze het manke, halve, verstompelde tot ideaal verheffen. Het afgeknotte, verminkte wordt toonbeeldChrw(133) zijn beledigingen die geen beledigingen meer zijn maar nuchtere vaststellingen van jammerlijke feiten die ook Van Ostaijen walgden.” Geert Crub, “Een posthuum werk van Van Ostaijen,” De Noorderklok, May 22, 1932.
H. Uyttersprot, Uit Paul van Ostaijens Lyriek (Brussel, n.d. [1964], p. 53.
John Ruskin, something of a super-patriot under Queen Victoria, displays a similar intoxication in his lecture on “War” delivered to the Royal Military Academy in 1866. First he asserts that “all pure and noble arts of peace are founded on war; no great art ever yet rose on earth, but among a nation of soldiers.” Then he echoes both Van Ostaijen’s character, the Peruvian general Gomes, as well as Huizinga’s ludic theory when he describes war as a game, a “grand pastime.” Ruskin also resembles Van Ostaijen’s general when he asserts that war is the expression of total man, man at his supreme height: “the game of war is only that in which the full personal power of the human creature [Ruskin’s italics] is brought out in management of its weapons.” The Englishman also agrees with Ricardo Gomes, Pameelke, and other characters from the grotesque world, that war is necessary as well as inspiring, and that peaceful debates are a stigma on a nation’s honor. “I tell you that the principle of non-intervention, as now preached among us, is as selfish and cruel as the worst frenzy of conquest, and differs from it only by being not only malignant, but dastardly.” This lecture by Ruskin was reprinted in the American edition of The Crown of Wild Olive (New York, 1874), pp. 79–131. How painfully relevant this sentiment still is can be seen in the contemporary satire by an anonymous American, Report from Iron Mountain on the Possibility and Desirability of Peace (New York, 1967). Literary similarities have been suggested. Uyttersprot speaks of an alleged similarity between Van Ostaijen’s grotesque and Gustav Meyrink’s “Die Erstiirmung von Serajewo.” Outside the fact that both tales deal with things military, there is little to substantiate this view. A more plausible case can be made for Paul Scheerbart’s tale “Rakkóx der Billionär,” first published in Leipzig in 1901. The billionaire orders the director of his “Erfindungsabteilung” to develop a new idea which would revolutionize military science. The director proposes a very elaborate scheme to form an army of animals. The story can be found in a recent anthology of Scheerbart’s major works; Paul Scheerbart, Dichterische Hauptwerke (Stuttgart, 1962), pp. 229–231. It has become quite clear from recent epistolary evidence that Van Ostaijen knew and admired Scheerbart’s work.
H. Uyttersprot spoke of a comparison between Van Ostaijen’s “Overtuiging van Notaris Telleke,” and Gustav Meyrink’s “Der heisse Soldat ” A more fitting parallelism seems to be between Meyrink’s story and Van Ostaijen’s tale “De Cassette.” Both tales deal with atrophied credulity which will not allow any explanation other than a traditional one. Cf. Uyttersprot, Paul van Ostaijen en zijn proza, p. 18; and Meyrink, Des deutschen Spietzers Wunderhorn, II (München, 1922), pp. 124–129.
Christian Morgenstern, Stufen (München, 1918), pp. 97, 215.
In French purée means most commonly “mashed potatoes.” Besides this culinary meaning there is also the expression “être dans la purée,” which is perhaps most closely translated by “being in the soup.” The Dutch language has completely absorbed the French word with identical meanings. Figurative meanings are: in de puree (“smashed to pieces”), with verbs “to smash up something,” “to be in a mess,” “to be afraid.” It is obvious that a word with such widely known negative connotations is hardly the proper surname for a successful businessman.
Cf. the third volume (Verzameld Werk. Proza I) of the 2d, rev. ed. of the collected works, pp. 125–127.
The practice of using pseudonyms is perhaps more common in Europe than in the U.S..Dutch literature has a score of writers working under an assumed name: Marnix Gijsen (J. A. Goris), Johan Daisne (Albert Thiery), No Michiels (H. Ceuppens), Lucebert (Lubertus Swaansdijk), J. B. Charles (W. H. Nagel) and E. du Perron who wrote for a time under the name of Duco Perkens, and was a friend of Van Ostaijen. There are many others. In fact, Van Ostaijen himself appears in this tale under a pseudonym. His real last name may be seen as a combination of os (“ox”) and taai (“tough”). In a witty transposition he writes of himself as Paul van Malskoe (III, 379). Mals meaning “tender” (meat) and koe “cow.”
One can find a definite parallel for Van Ostaijen’s anti-Freudianism in Mynona’s work. One of the German writer’s collection of “Grotesken” is called Das Eisenbahngliick oder Der Anti-Freud (Berlin, 1925), and bears the dedication: “Herrn Professor S. Freud in Wien mit dem Herzinnigsten `Coeo, ergo sum!’ gewidmet.” The book sets out to prove that the sex-act is purely an accident. It contains one phrase which sums up both Mynona’s and Van Ostaijen’s position: “das die reductio ad sexum die reductio ad absurdum bedeutet.” (p. 34) It contains a story called “Contre Coeur” (pp. 92–96), which bears a definite resemblance to Van Ostaijen’s “De verloren huissleutel.” Prof. Katz, the hero of “Contre Coeur,” is a physician who is deadly afraid of catching syphilis; he suffers, as Mynona puts it, from “Syphilidophobie.” The good doctor prescribes himself monastic abstinence. One day a prostitute, Lukrezia, is brought to his clinic with an advanced case of the disease; she is, in fact, “das leibliche Paradigma sämtlicher Lusterkrankungen.” In a sudden fit of madness, Prof. Katz has intercourse with her. Mynona explains this irrational act by means of a dissertation on the effect on human beings of the law of opposites.
The name Ika Loch can be an anagram for lochika,from logika meaning “logic.” The surname can also have a scurrilous meaning, appropriate to the story and the theme, when one thinks of it as being the German word for a foramen.
Readers might object to the term as being obscure. But see a contemporary discussion by the British historian Hugh R. Trevor-Roper, “Witches and Witchcraft: An Historical Essay,” Encounter,XXVIII (May 1967), 3–25.
Uyttersprot in his essay Paul van Ostaijen en zijn proza (p. 18) briefly mentions t similarity between “Van een meevallertje dat een malheur was” and Gustav Meyrinkl “Bologneser Tränen.” The parallel is really quite striking, particularly in Meyrink’s description of his heroine Mercedes and Van Ostaijen’s Ursula. In the German story, the heroine is called a “Satanistin” and a “Hexe,” while one character cries out “welcher Abgrund dämonischer Liebesempfindung lag in diesem Weibe!” Cf. Gustav Meyrink, Des deutschen Spietzers Wunderhorn, II, pp. 136–143.
This is true of at least the following tales: “De Bende van de Stronk,” “Het Bordeel van Ika Loch,” “Werk en Spaar,” “Het gevang in de hemel,” “Mercurius,” “De verloren huissleutel,” “Menselijke onvoorzichtigheid,” “De kudde van Claire,” “De generaal,” “De gehouden hotelsleutel,” “De man met de zwijnskop,” and “Mechtildis.” Two stories in this series, incidentally, bear a definite resemblance to two “Grotesken” by Mynona. The latter has a story about a Berlin prostitute entitled “Mechtildis,” although the resemblance ends there. There is also a kinship between Van Ostaijen’s unfinished piece “De man met de zwijnskop” and Mynona’s “Ein Kindes Heldentat.” Both German stories can be found in Mynona, Rosa die schöne Schutzmannsfrau (Leipzig, 1913), pp. 78–81 and pp. 110–112.
These pages recall a sarcastic remark Van Ostaijen once made in an essay against those who persist in seeing Flemish jollity as an innocent pastime of peasants. “The Kept Hotel Key” may be seen as the fictional answer to his rhetorical question in that essay: “Quand retrouverons-nous Hadewych au bordel?” (IV, 193).
Though very seldom discussed, the curse of mediocrity was emphasized as an insidious evil by Erich Heller. “We have not yet grasped the demonic possibilities of mediocrity. We believe that the only appropriate partner of Mephisto is a genius. It was Karl Kraus who discovered to what satanic heights inferiority may rise. He anticipated Hitler long before anyone knew his name.” One should add here Karl Kraus and Paul van Ostaijen. Erich Heller, The Disinherited Mind (New York, 1959), p. 249.
In a letter to E. du Perron (7 January 1928), published in the collection of letteti edited by Gaston Burssens, Brieven uit Miavoye (Antwerpen, Amsterdam, 1932), p. 65.
H. A. Gomperts, De geheime tuin (Amsterdam, 1963), p. 121. The “publication” referred to are the last two volumes of the collected works: volume III (creative prose) published in 1954, and volume IV (critical prose) published in 1956. Volumes I and II containing the poetry were published in 1952.
In the translation “sexton” stands for cosier. This is a play on words. Van Ostaijen had a specific critic in mind by the name of Dirk Coster (1887–1956), who was a Dutch critic with humanitarian leanings in literature and strongly pronounced moralistic tone and character. Van Ostaijen was not alone in this battle against constricting forces in the literary and social worlds of Flanders and Holland. He became friends with the Dutch novelist and essayist Edgar du Perron (1899–1940) who, with even greater vehemence, waged a life-long battle against his peers in the Establishment. Du Perron was joined by Menno ter Braak (1902–1940), a Dutch essayist and mordant wit, in forming a militant and polemic periodical and movement known as the Forum-group (1932–1935). Dirk Coster was noxious to all three kindred spirits. For readers unfamiliar with Menno ter Braak, see my essay “The Critic and Existence: An Introduction to Menno Ter Braak” in the volume Criticism. Speculative and Analytical Essays, ed. L. S. Dembo (Madison, Wisconsin, 1968).
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Beekman, E.M. (1970). Unity of Theme: A Topography of the Grotesque. In: Homeopathy of the Absurd. Bibliotheca Neerlandica Extra Muros, vol 1. Springer, Dordrecht. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-015-7580-5_2
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