Verhaal en lezer

Een onderzoek naar enige structuuraspecten van ‘Van oude mensen, de dingen die voorbij gaan’ van Louis Couperus

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Summary

Introduction

This study contains an investigation of the structural aspects of Van Oude Mensen, de Dingen die Voorbij gaan by Louis Couperus¹. For three reasons this investigation is concentrated on one novel only. In the first place because the appearance of opportunism regarding the investigation has to be avoided. Only too often the literary theoretician chooses for each new aspect another novel. This method, however, will cause his argument to lose conviction. In every novel one should be able to trace every structural aspect.

The second reason is that one can avoid the difficulty in method that in order to define ‘the’ novel one would have to start from stories which one has regarded as a novel from the first. Strictly speaking that which is brought to light by the present investigation only holds good for Van Oude Mensen. It is true, that frequently other stories have been involved in the investigation and more than once existing theories regarding the novel have been used, but this has always been done to elucidate and verify what is offered in Van Oude Mensen. For this reason this study does not speak of a novel, but of a (printed) story.

Thirdly the investigation concerns only one novel, because in this way it can be revealed to what extent we can indeed speak of structural aspects. The ultimate purpose of this study is to contribute to the definition of the genre; the immediate purpose is to find out how the various aspects define each other and how they are defined by the whole.

The starting-point for this investigation has been limited as much as possible. We can only get to know a story by reading it. We can express it thus: the story does not really exist until it is being read. Therefore our starting-point is the actual reading. During the actual reading we do not know the author. We only meet him in so far as

1 English versions of this novel are as follows: An American edition (Dodd, Mead & Co, New York) in 1918, an English edition (Thornton Butterworth, London), in 1919, both with the title Old People and the Things that Pass; they were translated by A. Teixeira de Mattos and had a preface by Stephen McKenna. Of the English version a second edition appeared in 1924 as ‘Popular edition’.

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he ‘is’ his story. At this point we deal exclusively with the story and the reader, who is, at the same time, a literary critic. As a reader-critic we read the story to discover its structural aspects. By structure we mean the complex of those elements which must be supposed to exist in every story. The author has nothing to do with these aspects. We do meet the author in the way in which the structural aspects have been used; in the composition we recognise his hand. So it is essential to involve the author in the investigation only in so far as is necessary for the discovery of the structural aspects. We meet him continually, but only to be able to eliminate him the better.

So the starting-point is twofold: the story and the reader. First the story is systematically examined for its structural aspects, while the reader is taken for granted. However, during the actual reading the idea of the reader as an aspect, too, becomes more comprehensible. We do not venture into the field of psychology here. The reader is a literary factor. The extent to which he can be used as such, will result from the investigation.

I. Sujet

The reader is principally aware of the story unfolding before his mind's eye as contents: he witnesses, as it were, a series of events. This series is in the first place characterised by the fact that the events can be repeated as events, unlike those which occur in daily life. Each time that the story is read, the events take place exactly as they did the first time. This is because they are of a definite species and arranged in a definite way. A definite reality is created different from the reality of daily life; moreover, the elements of this reality are arranged in their own characteristic way.

The investigation of this reality and this arrangement starts from the story as it develops during the reading. In accordance with B. Tomǎshevsky this is called the ‘sujet’. ‘The fable is the complex of motives in their logical, causal coherence in time, the “sujet” is the complex of the same motives in just that order and those connections in which they are given in the work.’¹ This order and this connection, however, are not given in any other way than in and by means of the manner in which the work is written. By manner of writing are here understood all the characteristics of the use of language in the story, as far as this is of significance in the sentence. In this study, therefore,

1 See p. 15, note 1.

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‘sujet’ is to be taken as the complex of the motives in just that order and those connections in which they are given in the work and expressed in just that manner of writing in which it is presented.

II. Motives

The story has been presented to us as a succession of facts, laid down in a sequence of sentences. Sequence of sentences supposes connection between these sentences. And indeed, the reader brings about this connection. A line appears in the story, a thread as it were. A line here means the connection between sequences of sentences, a connection achieved and experienced by the act of reading.

In a story several lines may exist, often the one underbreaking the other. Thus they fall into line-fragments. A line-fragment is the connection between a chain of consecutive sentences, a connection achieved and experienced by the act of reading. So a line may consist of a series of separate line-fragments. What the reader sees as the common characteristic of separate line-fragments, enabling him to see these line-fragments as one continual line, is a motive.

The lines (line-fragments) are innate in the reading, i.e. the way the story is experienced, and then realized by it. The motives are in this realization active ideas, which, in the reader's mind, create a comprehensible connection, without which the story cannot exist.

From the analysis of Van Oude Mensen it appears that there are several kinds of motives.

1) Story-motives, concerning the connection between the events on the level of the actual facts; they are dynamic, there is a development of the events. There are three of these: the matrimonial difficulties of mama Ottilie; the relation between Lot and Elly; the consequences of the murder of Dercksz.

2) The lines of these story-motives may form a unity of a higher order, in pairs, but also all combined; they may fall together and constitute a new line in the story, in which a motive of a higher degree of abstraction is active, a so-called abstract motive. This kind of motive is static, there is no development. Thus, three abstract motives are found in Van Oude Mensen, because the different lines continually allow themselves to be arranged in a new unity. They are the motive of the marriage, the sensuality, and that of the after-effects of the murder in the minds of the various relatives, felt as destiny.

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3) The abstract motives converge in the conclusive or fundamental motive, active throughout the story; i.e. the progress of time, experienced as destiny.

4) In addition to the story-motives there are the composition-motives. The latter, unlike the former, and just like the abstract motives, do not bring about any development in the events. They correspond with the story-motives because their meaning is equally concrete. They reflect the story-motives and bring them out in fuller relief.

III A. The connection between the sentences as a time-function.
Time and succession

The literary work of art is given in the reader's experience as a complex of consecutive elements. That is why time is an important structural aspect of it. In the form, there is a sequence of sentences, in the contents there is a succession of facts. Both pre-suppose the aspect time.

The succession of the facts is understood and experienced by the reader as an actual and psychological connection between those facts. These two kinds of connections mostly appear simultaneously, and cannot be separated, though they can be distinguished.

The actual connection concerns the succession of the actual facts and events. It may be of two kinds. The logical connection is found where the succession of cause and effect can be stated in the abstract. The succession of the logical connection need not be the same as that of the facts presented. The natural connection is found where the natural order of certain facts in daily life is concerned, e.g. the succession of question and answer in a conversation. Here, too, the succession of the connection need not be in accordance with that of the narrated facts.

In the psychological connection memory plays a larger part than in the actual connection. It may be brought about by the memory of certain facts, which the text has given at a certain moment and by the maintenance of a certain atmosphere, which has been created by the same or other facts and is more or less full of emotion. The succession of the psychological connection and that of the facts presented are in accordance with each other.

Memory is important for the actual as well as for the psychological connection. The sequence of time is interrupted by memory and it is possible to experience in ‘the Now’ that which is happening in the

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text simultaneously with that which is remembered. Yet time is not completely disregarded in this fusion of experience and memory where there is also a consciousness of the succession of the elements.

The sequence of sentences shows itself as regards the form only as a linear extension, for which time is the only determinant in the reader's participation in the text. That is then time supposed when we speak of sequence. The complex of sentences also brings about the notion that a time-connection exists between the facts presented. Finally, the following of the ‘ribbon’, formed by the words, is an action performed in time.

The succession of the facts and the sequence of the sentences, understood and experienced as time, form in the reader's participation in the text a unity, because they are embodied in the reader's personal identity.

In the light of this unity the connection between the sentences can now be re-examined. There are four kinds of connections.

We speak of successive connection, when the succession in time of the facts is expressed by sentences which have the same order as those facts. The story is in that case very fluent. Simultaneous connection between the facts presented is also very easily expressed by the sequence of the sentences. As it is impossible to mention more than one aspect of anything at the same time, the ‘narrative’ sequence of the sentences - their one-after-the-other-formation - leads the reader from one aspect of a thing to another. Here, too, the line of the story can easily be continued. In the explanatory connection, however, this is very difficult. It is not time-less, but the notion of time is less well-defined, the experience of time as regards the contents decreases, the sentence appears in the experience more emphatically as a printed phenomenon. Therefore, the latter connection is experienced more or less as a obstacle in the stream, as a rupture in the time. Of quite a different kind is the propulsive connection. It exists in almost every sentence, because almost every sentence urges the reader to continue.

An investigation of these connections in Van Oude Mensen shows that 85,5% is successive, 12,6% simultaneous and 1,9% explanatory. This proportion is fairly constant. The great differences have become possible, because five devices of style have been used, which create successive connection, when one would expect simultaneous or even explanatory connection.

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III B. The connection between the line-fragments.
Time as motion

The connections between the line-fragments is examined in exactly that order, in which they appear in the story. The line-fragments of dominating motives are concerned here; that is, line-fragments, in which alternatively one of the story-motives stands out from the others and thus defines the direction of the story.

We find, that in Van Oude Mensen there are 35 transitions between line-fragments with a dominating motive. Only six of these are to be found within one chapter. So to a high degree the principle is valid, that a chapter contains a line-fragment of only one dominating motive.

When two dominating motives succeed each other within one chapter, their unity is generally accentuated in the sense of the fundamental motive. In only one of the six instances existing in Van Oude Mensen the reader experiences a rupture in the chapter. As this rupture cannot be ascribed to the nature of the connection, an investigation is required as to the determinants of the connection between dominating motives.

For this purpose we investigate what are the constituents of a scene. Scene here means a series of events considered in their entirety and unity. This entirety and unity are characterized by the dominating motive of the line-fragment under discussion. The story-motive active in the scene is the definition of the unity of all the events, formulated a posteriori by the reader.

There are three constituents, the characters, the place of action, and the time, understood as motion, experienced by us, of all that is observed. All three can lend unity to a series of events, viz. when one or more characters appear without interruption, when the place of action remains the same, and when the chain of events is presented as an uninterrupted series. All three can be understood in their unity-creating function only, if they are considered as the events themselves and at the same time as forces, essentially independent of each other. They coincide as events within the event. Together they form the event, the scene, recognized by the reader, a posteriori, from the story-motive, dominating in the chapter of that scene.

When we investigate, which constituents are maintained in the transition between two dominating motives within a chapter, we may say, although with some reserve owing to the small number of instances, that in Van Oude Mensen especially the experience of continuing time creates unity in a chapter with two or more successive dominating motives; and that, with regards to this unity, there exists

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a certain order between the constituents of a scene, viz. time, characters, place of action.

Next the transitions between the various chapters are examined in the same way. It appears, in the first place, that the principle: ‘a chapter contains the line-fragment of a dominating story-motive’, cannot be understood in reverse. There is no identity of the lengths of chapter and line-fragment.

The vertical blank between the chapters has a distinctive effect. Whenever various dominating motives are combined to form one chapter, the distinctive function effects these motives as a group.

When the transition from one chapter to the other, wether or not with the same dominating motive, is attended by a change of one or more constituents of the scene, it can be said that the story is really built of chapters. Then the vertical blank, as primary symbol, serves only as a convenience for the reader; in that case, therefore, its distinctive function is weak.

The function of the blank becomes stronger in two cases: the first occurs when more than one dominating motive, with maintenance of the time- and character-factor, is enclosed by a vertical blank. Then the blank has a conjunctive as well as a distinctive function, indicating within the chapter the trend of the fundamental motive.

The second occurs when the sequence of chapters is concurrent with the maintenance of all three constituents. If in this case, the blank separates scenes with a different dominating motive, the distinctive function accentuates this difference. If the dominating motive is maintained too, the blank acts entirely alone and therefore most strongly. In this case, too, it acts with both distinctive and indicative force.

Next these data concerning the transition between the chapters are confronted with the reader's own experience: where do we experience a definite break in the story, where a less definite one, where does the story proceed less evenly, where is it fluent? We come to the following conclusion:

When the story continues evenly, at least three of the four factors (dominating motive, time, place, characters) are maintained. When the transition is less even, two factors remain in function. With only one factor maintained a slight break is made. The break is sharply accentuated, when none of the four factors remains in function.

The factor of characters is most important for regularity in the story, then the time factor, next the dominating motive. The factor of place is least important. It can be omitted even when the story continues evenly.

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When we investigate how often the author used these factors, we find a slightly different valuation. The order of the factors time and motive appears to have changed then, in favour of the latter.

III C. Clock-time

In this chapter we investigate, to what extent G. Müller's theory of the relation between narrative time, i.e. the time covered in the story, and time of narration, i.e. the time necessary for the reading or telling of the story, can be used. Narrative time can be inferred from direct and indirect indications of time in the story. Direct time-indications are made by the narrator, as it were on behalf of the reader. These mark the time-structure much more clearly than the indirect one, which the reader earns from remarks made by the characters, for these remarks only make sense because, and in so far as, they make sense for the characters.

It appears, that part one of Van Oude Mensen has a static character. The time-limits of the various periods are blurred, because the time-indications are given in a vague and often indirect way. Owing to this a division into phases, based on the narrative time, is hardly possible, the story protests against it. The very progess of time, as well as it elusiveness, is suggested in this way. In the last chapters of part one we find, however, direct time-indications, so the time is clearly marked there. There is a reason for this, for it is in accordance with the development of the fundamental motive: In the face of the progress of time, at first experienced as an oppressing destiny, an attitude in life is found, which delivers from that oppression.

Part two is, in contrast with the first part, of a dynamic structure. It shows an urge towards the end, which is met in the last two chapters and gradually fades. In connection with this a distinct division into phases can be made with as a rule sharp time-limits. In the narrative-time-form of part one the problem is posited, which is connected with the fundamental motive; in that of part two it is dramatically worked out. Its dynamic nature is also expressed in the use of the narrative time.

The epic time, i.e. the relation between the narrative time and the time of narration, is fairly constant within the phases. With the exception of a slight acceleration in the second phase of part two the speed within the phases is mainly determined by dialogues and interior monologues.

It is impossible to express the relation between narrartive time and time of narration of the story in a curve. For the experience of the

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progress of time the degree of exactness with which the intervals are marked is of no importance at all. Only the measure of time (hour, day, month, year) is important, not the question, whether two or three hours, days, months or years have passed. The story poses its own kind of reality.

When a certain space of time is passed over in the story, it is not right to speak of an acceleration. In that case the experience of the reader has two aspects: sudden extension of the time and a consciousness of concentration of the attention for the progress of time on the moment stated in the text. Both are simultaneously present in the experience, but one of the two can predominate. It is probable that, if the time-indication does not appear until a few lines after the beginning of the phase, the consciousness of an extension is much stronger. If, on the other hand, the new phase begins with the time-indication, either the first or the second aspect can predominate. Probably the concentration always predominates, when there are several indications of time-jumps, each forming the introduction to a short series of events. In that case the concentration is a means to express the dynamic nature of a story. If the time-indication is an introduction to a long scene and the preceding series of events also has a certain length, the consciousness of time-extension predominates. Generally this is the case at the beginning of a new chapter.

IV. Continual presence

In spite of the fact, that the literary work of art progresses in time, some images in the reader's mind are continually present in his experience. In the words of Thomas Mann: the story ‘strebt durch seine künstlerischen Mittel die Aufhebung der Zeit an durch den Versuch, der musikalisch-ideellen Gesamtwelt, die es umfaszt, in jedem Augenblick volle Präsenz zu verleihen und ein magisches “nunc stans” herzustellen’.

The experience of a continual presence concerns in Van Oude Mensen especially the fundamental motive, the progress of time, making itself felt as destiny to the characters as well as to the reader, thus unalterably determining the atmosphere of the story.

Various artistic devices have been applied, which bring about this ‘nunc stans’. They can all be taken together under the principle of repetition. There is in the first place the ‘Leitmotiv’, i.e. the repetition of clauses, situations, actions, in precisely or almost the same words in which they appeared before. This form of repetition, however, has

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to be continued at comparatively long intervals to have the desired effect of ‘nunc stans’. Secondly there is the reflection, the reader recognizes what he reads, though it is not the same as in the preceding passage; it is only strongly, sometimes compellingly suggestive of this preceding passage. Reflection is, roughly formulated, the repetition of contents in a different form. It is brought about by an involuntary comparison of two passages. The fundamental motive often serves as tertium comparationis in Van Oude Mensen. The differences between the passages vanish, the similarities remain, and the fundamental motive is brought out in full relief in the reader's experience. Finally there is the preparation, the repetition that causes new characters or certain actions to be not quite unknown to the reader. It makes the story consistent. The world, brought to life by the story, appears to be complete in itself, becomes acceptable, even dependable. It is a coherent and lasting world.

Both ‘Leitmotiv’ and reflection promote symbolism. Especially the weather-conditions in Van Oude Mensen receive value in this way.

It is of great importance, that now the fatal progress of time not only holds the characters of the story in its inescapable grasp, but that owing to the artistic device of repetition the reader, too, experiences this fate directly. The story is reality for him too. This continual presence, in this case of the fundamental motive, lends a high degree of unity to the story.

V. Space

The place of action is not important in a purely topographic sense but as the complex of relations between topographic facts and the characters in the narrative. Because it is somehow of interest to the characters, the place of action becomes a personally experienced space. This implies, that this space manifests itself in two ways simultaneously: as visible world and as sphere of interest. The visible world is the realisation of the sphere of interest, the sphere of interest is the significance of the visible world in the story. Space is only known to the reader ànd experienced by him, in so far as a relation exists with the characters. The narrator can also address the reader and involve him in the story, or rather: create a reader by addressing him, to obtain a relation with a character.

Because the space, created by means of the characters, manifests itself simultaneously as visible world and as sphere of interest, two aspects in the creation of space can be distinguished: realisation and

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significance. These two aspects pre-suppose each other. Depending on the angle from which space is regarded, can we distinguish the range of action and the range of interest.

In a consideration of this created space, the reader is the point from which it is possible to see, the point of perception and experience, in relation to which the space comes to exist. Comes to exist indeed: the actions of the characters create the range of action. The characters create it, because they are confronted with each other in the story. Besides, they create by their actions a net-work of relations, the strands of which are twined from both space-relations and interest-relations. Whenever two characters take their stand there is then an I-you relation, a consciousness of the confrontation. And each interest-relation contains an awareness of a distance in space.

In Van Oude Mensen the space-effect is very strong. It is concerned with rooms, a few houses and, in a larger context, with regions. The largest circle is that of the family-relations. The latter especially acts as a creator of unity in the story. This throws a new light on the order of the constituents of a scene in a sequence of chapters. In chapter III B we have seen, that the factor of characters is the most important constituent. Now it appears that the factor of characters can all the time have the function of factor of place, i.e. place in a wider sense. The space-effect in a smaller sense, that of house, room or street, is indeed of minor importance. In a wider sense, however, in this case as family-relation it is of great importance, owing to the characters. In the actions of the characters a notion of place is included.

VI. Characters

E.M. Forster's theory, that in a story a distinction can be made between ‘flat’ and ‘round’ characters, has been criticised and improved by E. Muir. But this improved theory is not entirely satisfactory. It is in the important cases that it fails. The contrasts ‘dramatising real nature’ - ‘dramatising second nature’, ‘development’ - ‘no development’, ‘not to be summarized’ - ‘to be summarized in one or a few sentences’, can, just like Forster's distinction, be used only in simple cases. Both authors have ideal types in mind, they have failed to explain, by what principle the two ideal types are mingled.

The investigation in chapter III B of the three constituents of a scene: characters, time and place, already indicate the direction for further investigation. The question is: how are the characters defined by the factors of time and place?

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In daily life we are not constantly aware that we take part in the progress of time. There are, therefore, two relationships to it: a) the progress of time is experienced; b) the progress of time is an experience. Because of this theory the characters in a story can also be divided into two groups: A. Characters by whom the progress of time is merely experienced; B. Characters who are aware of experiencing the progress of time. The point is, whether the moment of time-experience in the minds of the characters may only be supposed, because everybody experiences this time-moment objectively now and then, or whether the moment of time-experience is really expressed in the memory, expectation or reflections of the characters. A ‘flat’ character presented as someone who is aware of his experience of the progress of time is less ‘flat’ than one who does not.

Space, too, can be experienced by the characters in the story or not. That a character experiences space, is evident from the fact, that he is delineated in that experience. The reader begins to see the character, because he sees its surroundings and sees them in the same way as that character itself. The more real, the more defined the surroundings - as space experienced - appear in the story, the more defined the character becomes in the reader's mind. On the other hand, if the surroundings are not described as experienced space, or if the sentiments are expressed without including well-defined surroundings, the character will be all the more vague. A character in the story becomes visible, as it were, because it contrasts with its surroundings. The things around it create its contours.

An investigation of the 26 persons, which live in the world of Van Oude Mensen, gives us the following results: Characters, which are really round according to Forster and Muir, also possess the characteristics of time-experience and space-experience discussed here. It is not necessary that a ‘flat’ character shows them too. Without time- and space-experience it is as flat as a character can be. With these characteristics it shows, in spite of its flatness, a certain depth. The extent to which it possesses these characteristics, depends on the quantity of text in which the character gives evidence of its possessing them, as well as on the emphasis which these passages obtain, owing to the composition of the story.

Time- and space-experience, therefore, are principles which indeed determine the intermediate forms between the two ideal types ‘flat’ and ‘round’, but not these types themselves.

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VII. Perspective and reader

By reading the reader lends life to the story; it exists for him and at the same time because of him. As far as concerns the observing reader we can say, that he has a certain view of the story in all its details and as a whole. Because a certain ‘Gestalt’-effect takes place, this view of the experiencing reader is deepened to ‘in’-sight. The view of and the insight in the story are defined both by the point of observation and experience and by the existing complex of data. This view and this insight, understood as a relation already existing when the story is being read, is here called: perspective. It is not a category of space, but a psychological-literary one.

For a better understanding of the perspective it is necessary to investigate, how the story reveals itself, when it is being read. We then find, that it is being narrated, it is true, but that there is no narrator. The information regarding the story and the characters in it, is not information about the story, but only the way in which the story exists as a narration; it is the story itself. The narrator is an aspect of the story, he is the act of narrating. No explanation is given, therefore, of the circumstances of the characters; it does not say: ‘She hissed with anger’, because a certain character is angry, but the other way round: because it says: ‘She hissed with anger’ that character is angry.

The story is not always told in the same way. The mode of expression is subjective, if one of the characters is presented ‘from the inside’ to such a degree, that the reader's view of the events is limited to the view of that one character. The mode of expression is objective, if all the characters are understood ‘from the outside’, i.e. when the reader's view of the events is independent of the view of any of the characters in the story. Between these two extremes many intermediate forms are possible. A passage may be told subjectively in comparison with another passage, but more objectively in comparison with a third. Passages in which the reader is involved in the story should be understood as a means to lend a greater objective value to the story.

That there is no narrator does not imply that the author is not somehow present in the story. For instance, he can be found by comparison with other work or by taking into account the many possibilities of expression which have not been used; in short, by studying the style and the composition.

Looking at the story from the standpoint of the author, we can of course say, that he narrates the story. By this ‘narrating’, however, we mean something different from what we say, when we look at it

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from the standpoint of the reader. In the first case it means: composing of and with the devices of style, utilizing the structural aspects. In the second case it denotes the way in which the story exists.

The reader is the point of observation and experience in respect of which the story comes into being and without which the story cannot exist. The story ‘wills’ the reader, it ‘creates’ the reader as part of its structure.

Moreover, the reader is an aspect of the person who reads. While it is being read the story creates the reader in the person of the reader. He is the person of the reader in so far as the latter experiences the story and believes in the reality evoked by it. The events, characters and actions exist only for the reader. In so far as we believe in them, these events are real, happen here-and-now. In so far as the surrounding reality of daily life is concerned, these events are not real, they do not happen here-and-now, they are fictitious. Not-here-and-now only means the negation of here-and-now. It does not mean that the events take place in the past or in the future. It refers only to an other reality, which is not that of daily life.

The preterite in which the story is told, has the sense-value of ‘not-present-here-and-now’. This sense-value, however, gives way by absorbed and concentrated reading in a great measure to that of ‘present-here-and-now’. In that case the sense-value ‘not-here-and-now’ is not quite lost. Just as the reader and the person of the reader are not two separate persons, but only two aspects of the one person who reads, so the two sense-values of the verbal forms do not exist separately, i.e. one after the other while we read, but they are present simultaneously. When, however, we put the book aside and ‘return to reality’, the verb obtains exclusively its ‘not-here-and-now’ sense. This sense-value of the preterite is here called ‘fictionalis’.

The fact, that the reader cannot be separated from the person of the reader, implies a twofold relation to the reality in the story. While the person of the reader sees the past and the future of the characters as time-trends without sense to him, fictitious, the reader can experience them as past and future. In chapter III C we have seen, that to him the exact distance in time is not important, but only the time-trend and the measure that is applied to the time. In accordance with this the same applies to the dimensions of space.

On account of the above the opinion, that the praesens historicum causes the reader to be suddenly personally involved in the story, must be considered as incorrect. The praesens historicum is wrongly applied, when the verbal form aims at the effect mentioned. However, this does

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not mean, that it is always superfluous. Van Oude Mensen proves, that it may have the function of intensification of the subjective mode of expression: it may help to maintain the point of view of one of the characters.

After thus having investigated how the story reveals itself when it is being read, we shall now further examine the perspective. The objective mode of expression is characterized by the fact, that the point of view of none of the characters is shared. It is negatively defined and can at best be called the point of view of the reader only. In this case it is incorrect to speak of the point of view of the omniscient author.

Its usual narrative-form is the report. In all kinds of ways this mode of expression can be intensified, for example by a spectator, introduced for a brief moment, by comparisons, by relativation of the opinion of the characters, and so on. Consequently, as is sometimes said, the distance between the story and the reader increases. We cannot object to this formulation, if we understand, that the terms are used metaphorically.

If the mode of expression is subjective, there is a difference between the angle of vision and the standpoint, taken by the reader. We can speak of an angle of vision, if the reader experiences the events in exactly the same way as one of the characters in the story; consequently he knows this character only ‘from the inside’, the other characters only ‘from the outside’; he ‘sees’ exclusively together with this character and he ‘looks at’ the others. If, however, the scene is narrated from the standpoint of one of the characters, the reader does not observe the other characters together with that one character, but only in so far as this character sees and knows the others; he stands, as it were, beside the one, whose standpoint he shares and consequently observes him too, as well as his conduct, his thoughts and his feelings. The term point of view includes both angle of vision and standpoint.

We can speak of a certain angle of vision in scenes consisting of a direct interior monologue and in those in which the praesens historicum has been justly applied. A certain standpoint is taken, when the scene consists of an indirect interior monologue and when it is narrated in the form of a report from the point of view of one of the characters.

The indirect interior monologue is a literary form, only peculiar to the story. It tends to continue in following sentences, so that these, though they have themselves been written in report form, are read in indirect interior monologue. Even preceding sentences may undergo this influence.

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The indirect interior monologue can be divided into two groups in two ways. In the first place there is the difference between the momentary and the iterative-durative monologue. The former expresses what a character thinks at a given moment. The latter expresses what a character repeatedly thinks and is thinking now.

Secondly there is the difference between the witnessing and the characterizing and explaining monologue. The witnessing indirect interior monologue especially develops the story motives. The considerations of the character are in the first place the continuation of the story and only in the second place an inducement to a better understanding of his personality. The subjective element far exceeds the objective element.

In view of the foregoing the characterizing and explaining indirect interior monologue holds up the story. It serves the exposition in the first place. Here the abstract motives are brought to the fore. In comparison with the witnessing monologue the reader remains more face to face with the character. It is in the first place the intention that he gets to know that character itself, if only by means of the latter's view. Only in the second place does this interior monologue serve the progress of the story.

According to this division the indirect interior monologue forms a gradual transition from objective to subjective narration, via the characterizing and the witnessing monologue.

An investigation of the allocation of lines in subjective style to the characters in the story gives all kinds of insight in the composition of Van Oude Mensen. For instance, we find that the story has been composed round the principle character of the second story-motive.

The investigation of the perspective is not finished with the discussion of the point of view. For the very reason that the perspective, as regards the literary work of art, is not a notion of space, but a literary-psychological one, we can also speak of a perspective-effect as regards the complex of motives. See chapter III. The function of the vertical blank, too, the ‘Leitmotive’, reflections and preparations should be mentioned in this connection and the way a chapter ends. The last sentence of a chapter may have a ‘revealing’ effect, i.e. serve the perspective.

The time-perspective has two aspects. In the first place there is the perspective, which is created by the act of reading itself. It is connected with the time needed to read the story and inherent in the activity of the memory. The second aspect concerns the depth of the time of the created reality. Devices to obtain this perspective are for

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example the direct and indirect time-indications. It opens vistas to a part before the beginning of the story and to a future beyond the final events.

VIII. Conclusion

As a result of the investigation of the structural aspects of the story: motive, time, space, characters, perspective and reader, the reality created by the story can be described as a reality in itself, completely different in structure from the reality of daily life and completely separated from it. We can, if we want, relate the former to the latter, but it is not necessary.

The various structural aspects define each other and are defined by the whole. In the investigation this was manifested in two ways. In the first place, the same text-fragments could always serve for each aspect. Secondly - and it should definitely be appreciated - in the discussion of each separate aspect the other aspects were always inevitably involved. It was impossible to avoid repetition.

This does not mean, that all the structural aspects are of the same order. There is a division into three groups: 1) motive, time, space, character, 2) perspective, 3) reader.

The first four aspects define each event, or series of events as such. They form, as it were, the nucleus of the structure: the narrated story as the progress (time) of certain events with a certain meaning (motive), in which necessarily all kinds of characters appear (character), and which develop in a certain world (space). The reader-aspect is the aspect, which has made it possible for the text to be realized by the reader. It is the enveloping cover, essential to make the nucleus. The perspective is the way in which motive, time, space and character are involved. It forms the connection between the cover and the nucleus.