{"id":134732,"date":"2019-03-20T09:00:16","date_gmt":"2019-03-20T13:00:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=134732"},"modified":"2019-03-20T12:20:36","modified_gmt":"2019-03-20T16:20:36","slug":"walter-benjamin-in-ibiza","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/03\/20\/walter-benjamin-in-ibiza\/","title":{"rendered":"Walter Benjamin in Ibiza"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

When Hitler came to power, Walter Benjamin did not immediately realize what the dictatorship had in store. Like many intellectuals, he counted on an early collapse of the regime. To begin with, he seemed almost serene in the face of events. But events picked up speed, and, even though it was hard to obtain reliable news, by March 1933 it was apparent to him that \u201cthere can be no doubt that in very many instances people have been dragged from their beds in the night and beaten or murdered.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

In 1928, during an exchange with Andr\u00e9 Gide, Benjamin compared Gide\u2019s thought to a fort, \u201cvast in its overall structure, replete with protective ramparts and protruding bastions, and above all strict in its forms and perfect in its deliberate dialectical construction.\u201d Was this a self-portrait of Benjamin himself?<\/p>\n

Benjamin wrote that Gide had quoted Louis Antoine de Bougainville: \u201cWhen we left the island, we called it \u00cele du Salut\u201d (Salvation Island). And Gide added that \u201cit is only when we leave something that we name it.\u201d <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tuesday morning, April 19, 1932. After an overnight crossing, the Barcelona-Ibiza ferry Ciudad de Valencia<\/em> tied up at quayside. Benjamin disembarked from a third-class cabin and walked slowly and stiffly over to the friend who had come to the port to greet him.<\/p>\n

Felix Noeggerath and Benjamin had first met fifteen years earlier, while taking classes on the Mayans and Aztecs along with Rainer Maria Rilke. A native of Berlin, Noeggerath had emigrated to San Antonio Bay, some fifteen kilometers from Ibiza Town, with his third wife, the beautiful Marietta, his son Hans Jakob, a philologist, and his daughter-in-law.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Noeggerath had Benjamin\u2019s deep admiration as a doctor of philosophy, who was passionate about history, theology, mathematics, and linguistics. Benjamin did not hesitate to call him a genius, while in Noeggerath\u2019s eyes Benjamin was the genius. But barely had these two geniuses found one another again when they discovered that the same crook had swindled them both\u2014by renting a house on Ibiza that he did not own to Noeggerath and by occupying Benjamin\u2019s flat in Berlin without paying the rent. Aside from the financial issue, Benjamin worried about his manuscripts, which the man might have taken with him when he fled. He considered going back to Berlin, but upcoming national socialist festivities dissuaded him.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On Ibiza, Benjamin stayed at first with the Noeggeraths. In the daytime he would attempt to escape the promiscuity and chatter there by losing himself in \u201cthe age-old beauty and solitude of the region.\u201d He would rise at six or seven, swim in the sea, and gaze off into the distance. Then he would take refuge in the forest undergrowth. He read, scribbled, and sunbathed leaning against a tree trunk. In this way he spent many long days deprived of almost everything\u2014of \u201celectric light and butter, liquor and running water, flirting and reading the paper.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Around two o\u2019clock he would go back for lunch with his hosts and play cards or dominoes for a while before going to dawdle in the caf\u00e9. At nine in the evening, or ten thirty at the latest, he would retire to his room\u2014a room that he shared with \u201cthree hundred flies\u201d\u2014and plunge into a book.<\/p>\n

What did he read? For one thing, Trotsky\u2019s autobiography, which took his breath away.<\/p>\n

Subsequently he lived in a little house that he had to himself, and ate three meals a day, local cooking for which he paid 1.80 marks.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The island of Ibiza\u2014or Eivissa\u2014in the Spanish Balearic archipelago is an intact repository of a living antiquity without ruins or remains. An heir to Carthage and the Moors, Ibiza has preserved its Phoenician, Roman, and Arab heritages, despite Spanish hegemony. Ibiza is the most African of the Balearic Islands. Pottery and figurines of Ishtar, the dove goddess, and Ba\u2019al, the goat god, are still made there just as they were two thousand years ago.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Ibiza cathedral clock bore the inscription Ultima multis<\/em>\u2014\u201cthe last day for many.\u201d This maxim made a strong impression on Benjamin.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The costume of the women consisted of a long-sleeved bodice covered by a shawl and a silk brocade dress pleated in the back, falling to the ankles and protected by a pinafore. Its billowing aspect could be explained by the fact that beneath it were at least ten underskirts.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Passing through the island, Albert Camus noted that \u201cif the language of these places was in harmony with what resonated profoundly within me, it was not because it answered my questions but rather because it rendered them superfluous.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On this \u201cisland of forgetfulness\u201d the inhabitants themselves conceived and built their dwellings as \u201cpeasant palaces,\u201d the legacy of an ancient Egyptian architecture. Benjamin was entranced by this architecture sans architects, by its sobriety, and by the way it bore witness to the relationship between the Ibicencos and their landscape. It was a vernacular style in which, \u201cdefying the shadows, the gleaming white of the walls dazzles you.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And in the main room, chairs of an overwhelming simplicity were always carefully arranged\u2014chairs which, according to Benjamin, \u201chad much to tell.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Unchanged for centuries, ignored by the rest of Europe, Ibiza began in the thirties to become a focus of interest for travelers and a place of refuge for others. In 1932, however, it was still bypassed by international trade and modernity in general, whose conveniences simply did not exist there. Benjamin had no complaints. For the time being, he enjoyed a kind of contentment enhanced by the splendor of the landscape\u2014the \u201cmost untouched\u201d he had ever seen.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Farming and animal husbandry were still \u201ccarried on in an archaic manner\u2014there are not more than four cows on the whole island, as the peasants keep to their traditional goats; no agricultural machinery is to be seen and the irrigation of the fields is effected, as it was centuries ago, by means of water scooped up by bucket wheels drawn by mules.\u201d<\/p>\n

From his room Benjamin had a view of the sea and of a rocky island illuminated at night by a lighthouse. \u201cIt is unfortunately to be feared,\u201d noted Benjamin, \u201cthat the construction of a hotel at the port signals the end of all this.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

During this first stay on Ibiza, Benjamin formed a liaison with Olga Parem. They decided to explore the island together and went for long outings on foot and by boat. As soon as he proposed marriage to her, however, she left him.<\/p>\n

Three months after his arrival, Benjamin returned to France by way of Majorca. He reached Nice on July 22 and checked in at the H\u00f4tel du Petit Parc. Exhausted, and perhaps depressed by the breakup with Olga, he abruptly decided to take his own life. He drew up a will and sent letters of farewell to his close friends. But he did not proceed. And offered no explanation.<\/p>\n

\u2014Translated from the French by Donald Nicholson-Smith<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric Pajak is a Swiss French writer and graphic artist born in Suresnes, France. He has written novels and film scripts, and he is a painter, as was his father, Jacques Pajak. He has edited and contributed to cultural and satirical periodicals and is the editor of the highly illustrated biannual journal <\/em>Les Cahiers dessin\u00e9s, devoted to graphic work ranging from cartooning to the drawings of old masters. But Pajak is best known for a long series of books of unique design which present his own full-page drawings accompanied by a biographical and autobiographical quasi narrative. The first of these works, which made his reputation, was <\/em>L\u2019immense solitude (1999), which won the Prix Michel Dentan in 2000. He followed this with another similarly structured work, <\/em>Le chagrin d\u2019amour (Broken hearts), which dealt with Guillaume Apollinaire. Later subjects included Joyce, Luther, Freud, Nietzsche, Cesare Pavese, and Schopenhauer. In the same formal vein, Pajak\u2019s ongoing <\/em>Uncertain Manifesto, which began with the present work in 2012, reached its seventh volume in 2018. The third volume was awarded the Prix M\u00e9dicis (Essai) in 2014.<\/em><\/p>\n

Donald Nicholson-Smith\u2019s translations of noir fiction include Jean-Patrick Manchette\u2019s <\/em>Three to Kill; Thierry Jonquet\u2019s <\/em>Mygale (a.k.a. <\/em>Tarantula); and (with Alyson Waters) Yasmina Khadra\u2019s<\/em> Cousin K. He has also translated works by Paco Ignacio Taibo II, Henri Lefebvre, Raoul Vaneigem, Antonin Artaud, Jean Laplanche, Guillaume Apollinaire, and Guy Debord. For New York Review Books, he has translated Manchette\u2019s <\/em>Fatale, <\/em>The Mad and the Bad, <\/em>Ivory Pearl, and <\/em>Nada and Jean-Paul Cl\u00e9bert\u2019s <\/em>Paris Vagabond, as well as the French comics <\/em>The Green Hand,<\/em> by Nicole Claveloux, and <\/em>Yellow Negroes and Other Imaginary Creatures,<\/em> by Yvan Alagb\u00e9. Born in Manchester, England, he is a longtime resident of New York City.<\/em><\/p>\n

Excerpted from<\/em> Uncertain Manifesto<\/a>, by Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric Pajak, translated by Donald Nicholson-Smith, published by New York Review Books. Copyright \u00a9 2012 by Les \u00c9ditions Noir sur Blanc, Lausanne. Translation copyright \u00a9 2019 by Donald Nicholson-Smith<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The philosopher fled to Ibiza when he realized the gravity of Hitler\u2019s rise.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1722,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[419],"tags":[1725],"class_list":["post-134732","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-arts-culture","tag-walter-benjamin"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nWalter Benjamin in Ibiza by Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric Pajak<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"The philosopher fled to Ibiza when he realized the gravity of Hitler\u2019s rise.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/03\/20\/walter-benjamin-in-ibiza\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" 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