Group Portrait with Lady (14 page)

Since potentially interested readers of these simple facts may break out into that which is indicated by
and might like to have this reflex explained, we shall now, in order to obviate the necessity of acquiring an encyclopedia, or even of consulting one, quote the paragraph in question:

“Laughter,
anthropologically” (none
of the italics, including those to follow, are the Au.’s), “a physically resonant
expression of emotional reaction to situations of crisis
Weeping
Philosophically
, L. of the sage, smile of the Buddha, the Mona Lisa, from a sense of confidence in Being.
Psychologically
, mimic expressive movement indicating joy, mirth, amusement. In the form of childlike, blasé, ironical, emotional, relieving, despairing, spiteful, coquettish L., reflects values of attitude and character.
Pathologically
, in diseases of the nervous system and in psychoses, compulsive L. in the form of laughing fits, sardonic L. accompanied by facial distortion, and hysterical L. in the form of laughing spasms.
Socially
, L. is infectious (ideomotor activity prompted by imagination).”

Now that we are obliged to enter upon a more or less emotional and, inevitably, tragic phase, it is no doubt advisable to complete our definition of concepts: there is no explanation for the concept of Happiness in this encyclopedia: between Happenstance and Happy Warrior all we could find was Happy Hunting Ground, but
Bliss
was there, defined as the “quintessence of perfect and lasting fulfillment of life; sought instinctively by every human being, depending on whatever it is in which he seeks this ultimate fulfillment, on the choice that determines the entire content of his life; according to Christian doctrine, true B. is to be found only in eternal
Beatitude.”

“
Beatitude
, the state, free of all pain or guilt, of everlasting and perfectly fulfilled happiness, anticipated by all religions as the purpose and object of human history. In the
Cath
. doctrine, primarily the B. of God in the infin. possession by Himself of His perfect Being; secondly, the B. of Man (& Angel) in communion with God through charismatically granted participation in His beatifying life, a participation that begins in temporal life as intimacy with Christ (Divine bliss) and is perfected in eternal B. with
Resurrection and eschatolog. transformation of all reality. According to
Prot
. belief, perfect union with God’s Will, the true destiny of Man, his salvation and his redemption.”

Now that T. and W., L. and B., have been sufficiently defined, and we know where to look up the definition whenever we need these tools, it is not necessary for this report to concern itself for long with the description of emotional states, it being enough to point to their definition in the encylopedia as occasion arises and to refer to them merely by the suitable abbreviation of each. Since T., L., and W. are to be expected in crisis situations only, it might be appropriate at this point to congratulate all those who proceed through life crisis-less, crisis-free, or merely crisis-resistant, who have never shed a T., have been spared W., have never wept for someone else, and have refrained from L. where it was against regulations. A toast to all those whose conjunctiva have never been summoned into action, who have survived all vicissitudes dry-eyed, and who have never used their T.-ducts. A toast, too, to those who have their brainstems firmly under control and, in a state of perpetual confidence in Being, have never had to laugh or smile from any sense of Being other than that of wisdom. Three cheers for Buddha and the Mona Lisa, who were so utterly confident in their Being.

Since
Pain
is also due to occur, the pertinent paragraph, instead of being quoted here in toto, will be edited so as to allow only one crucial sentence to appear here: “The degree of sensitivity to P. varies with the individual, chiefly because to physical P. is later associated the experience of mental or spiritual P. Both together result in subjective P.”

Because Leni and all those affected not only felt P. but
suffered
, let us, in order to complete our set of referents, quickly quote the operative sentence in the encyclopedia that deals with
Suffering
. It (S.) “is felt by a person with a severity proportionate to his quality of life and to the sensitivity of his nature.”
One thing is certain: in the case of all those associated with the Gruyten and Hoyser families, including Marja van Doorn, who was linked equally with both families, rather important aspects of the quality of life must have been seriously affected. In Leni’s case, alarming signs appeared: she lost weight, acquired among outsiders the reputation of being a crybaby; her magnificent hair, while it did not exactly fall out, lost its luster, and not even Marja’s fabulous inventiveness with soups, in the production of which even her eyes were constantly T.-filled—she paraded her whole rich gamut of soups before Leni and procured the very freshest of fresh rolls—nothing could remedy Leni’s lack of appetite. Photos from that time, taken secretly by one of her father’s employees and later found in Marja’s possession, show Leni looking downright peaked, pale from P. and S., totally debilitated by W. and T., without even a suggestion of the rudiments of L. Was it possible that Lotte Hoyser had not been quite so right after all in disputing Leni’s widowhood, and that at some deeper level, hidden from Lotte, Leni had indeed been a widow and not only platonically? Be that as it may, Leni’s subjective P. must have been quite considerable. Nor was it any less in the case of the others. Now her father did not merely lapse into brooding, melancholy set in, and (according to the information of those who had dealings with him) he “lost interest.” Since old Hoyser was equally broken, and even Lotte (according to her own information) “hadn’t been herself for ages,” and Mrs. Gruyten, now gradually fading away, kept to her bedroom anyway, “now and again swallowing a few spoonfuls of soup and half a slice of toast” (M.v.D.), an explanation for the fact that the business not only continued to flourish but actually expanded is the one offered by old Hoyser, which sounds more or less plausible: “It had such a sound basis and was so well organized, and the auditors, the architectural and construction experts, who had been engaged by Hubert, were so loyal, that it simply continued to run of its own momentum, at
least for the year when Hubert was a complete washout, and myself too. But the main thing was: the hour of the old-timers had struck—there were a few hundred of them by that time, and they took charge of the business!”

The subject now becomes too delicate for us to choose Lotte Hoyser as witness for an unexplained period in the life of Gruyten, Sr.: we must reluctantly forgo her wonderfully dry, pregnant manner of speaking.

For, to use a rather fashionable expression, during the ensuing year (which must be calculated from April 1940 to roughly June 1941) she was his “constant companion.” He may also have been her constant companion, for both were in need of the consolation that in the end it seems they did not find.

They traveled around, the pregnant widow with the melancholy man who did not read the file on the misfortune that had befallen his son and his nephew but merely had Lotte and Hoffgau give him the gist of it; a man who from time to time would mutter to himself “Shit on Germany,” ostensibly traveling from construction site to construction site, from hotel to hotel, in reality not casting so much as a single glance anywhere at the drawings, accounts, files, or construction sites. He travels by train and by car, or by plane, pathetically pampering the five-year-old Werner Hoyser who today, at thirty-five, lives in a smart self-owned apartment full of modern furniture, is enthusiastic about Andy Warhol, and could “kick himself in the arse” for not having bought soon enough; he is a pop fan, a sex fan, and the owner of a betting office; he clearly remembers long walks by the beaches of Scheveningen, Mers les Bains, Boulogne, and that “Grandpa Gruyten’s” hands used to shake and Lotte used to cry; he remembers construction sites, T-beams,
workmen in “funny clothes” (probably prisoners. Au.). From time to time Gruyten, who no longer lets Lotte out of his sight, stays home for a few weeks, sits at his wife’s bedside, relieving Leni and trying desperately to do what Leni is trying to do: read something Irish to his wife, fairy tales, legends, ballads—but with no more success than Leni; Mrs. Gruyten wearily shakes her head, smiles. Old Hoyser, who seems to have got over his P. more quickly and by September has already stopped shedding T., is “going to the office again,” at intervals hearing himself asked the astonishing question: “Hasn’t the business gone to the dogs yet?” No. It is even continuing to improve: his old-timers stand firm, their ranks are unbroken.

Is this man Gruyten already worn out at forty-one? Can’t he come to terms with the death of his son, while all around him the sons of others are dying en masse without those others being broken? Is he beginning to read books? Yes. One. He digs out a prayer book from the year 1913 that was given to him at his First Communion and “seeks consolation in religion” (“which he never had,” Hoyser, Sr.). The only result of this reading is that he starts giving money away, “scads of it,” as Hoyser and his daughter-in-law Lotte both testify, and the van Doorn woman too, who instead of “scads” says “wads” (“He gave me wads of it too, so I bought back my parents’ little farm and a bit of land”)—he goes to churches but can never stand being in there longer than “a minute or two” (Lotte). He “looked seventy” while his wife, who had just turned thirty-nine, “looked sixty” (van Doorn). He kisses his wife, sometimes kisses Leni, never Lotte.

Is decline setting in? His former family doctor, a Dr. Windlen, aged eighty, who has long since risen above the myth of professional secrecy, sitting in his old-fashioned apartment
where remnants of his practice—white cabinets, white chairs—are still to be seen, wholly engrossed in unmasking as idolatry the fashionable craze for medication, maintains that Gruyten had been “as fit as a fiddle; all the tests, every single one, were negative—liver, heart, kidneys, blood, urine—besides, the fellow hardly smoked at all, maybe a cigar a day, and drank maybe a bottle of wine a week. Gruyten a sick man? Not on your life—I tell you, he knew what was what, he knew what he was doing. The fact that people say he sometimes looked seventy proves nothing—psychically and morally, mind you, he had been terribly injured, but organically: no. The only thing he remembered from the Bible was: ‘Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness,’ and that affects a person’s disposition.”