Apart from several special, unclassified volumes,
modern or dateless, certain works on the Cabbala,
medicine and botany, certain odd tomes containing
undiscoverable Christian poetry, and the anthology
of the minor Latin poets of Wernsdorf; apart from
Meursius, the manual of classical erotology
of Forberg, and the diaconals used by confessors,
which he dusted at rare intervals, his Latin library
ended at the beginning of the tenth century.
And, in fact, the curiosity, the complicated naivete
of the Christian language had also foundered.
The balderdash of philosophers and scholars, the logomachy
of the Middle Ages, thenceforth held absolute sway.
The sooty mass of chronicles and historical books and
cartularies accumulated, and the stammering grace,
the often exquisite awkwardness of the monks, placing
the poetic remains of antiquity in a ragout, were
dead. The fabrications of verbs and purified essences,
of substantives breathing of incense, of bizarre adjectives,
coarsely carved from gold, with the barbarous and
charming taste of Gothic jewels, were destroyed.
The old editions, beloved by Des Esseintes, here ended;
and with a formidable leap of centuries, the books
on his shelves went straight to the French language
of the present century.
Chapter 5
The afternoon was drawing to its close when a carriage
halted in front of the Fontenay house. Since
Des Esseintes received no visitors, and since the
postman never even ventured into these uninhabited
parts, having no occasion to deliver any papers, magazines
or letters, the servants hesitated before opening
the door. Then, as the bell was rung furiously
again, they peered through the peep-hole cut into the
wall, and perceived a man, concealed, from neck to
waist, behind an immense gold buckler.
They informed their master, who was breakfasting.
“Ask him in,” he said, for he recalled
having given his address to a lapidary for the delivery
of a purchase.
The man bowed and deposited the buckler on the pinewood
floor of the dining room. It oscillated and wavered,
revealing the serpentine head of a tortoise which,
suddenly terrified, retreated into its shell.
This tortoise was a fancy which had seized Des Esseintes
some time before his departure from Paris. Examining
an Oriental rug, one day, in reflected light, and
following the silver gleams which fell on its web
of plum violet and alladin yellow, it suddenly occurred
to him how much it would be improved if he could place
on it some object whose deep color might enhance the
vividness of its tints.
Possessed by this idea, he had been strolling aimlessly
along the streets, when suddenly he found himself
gazing at the very object of his wishes. There,
in a shop window on the Palais Royal, lay a huge tortoise
in a large basin. He had purchased it. Then
he had sat a long time, with eyes half-shut, studying
the effect.
