The Nocturnal Library

by Ermanno Cavazzoni

  The two attendants, Fischietti and Santoro, had started to play cards with the other two workers responsible for that room. But every time someone dealt a card, Santoro cut it to bits with pinking scissors, so that the cards all ended up bevelled but radically downsized, some tiny with jagged edges. The other two sat sulkily and mistrustfully refusing to deal or play, until Santoro cut all the cards in their hands in half with a few sudden lightning snips of his scissors. The ensuing squabble hinged on the legitimacy of such a move. The other two claimed their rules were different, and Fischietti and Santoro replied that they hadn’t come to get themselves fleeced by the two idiots in the reference room.

  For some time I could no longer read. The young woman looked on and shook her head in sign of her disapproval and forbearance.

  Chapter I

  This round and well-dressed man suddenly appeared. “It’s four in the morning,” he said in a low but agitated voice.

  I looked at Iris questioningly. “He always comes at this time,” I heard her tell me, “he’s the arbitrator Pantani from the Board of Directors.”

  “It’s four in the morning,” he said again, “can’t you see that you’re disturbing people? Can’t you see Professor Rasorio over there?” and he pointed to the other man who, like me, was sitting at the table. “I will report you to the disciplinary committee, and send a complaint to your immediate superior. Who is he?”

  The two who work in the reference room pointed to the assistants and said, “He’s Accetto. Accetto!”

  “No, we’re nothing to do with them. I’m not. He’s not,” they protested and shrugged discourteously, and the scissors cut one of the other two’s sleeve.

  Miss Iris also took no notice of this conversation. She gave me an exclusive and conspiratorial smile every now and then, and her behaviour intimated a degree of scepticism in the man she had defined as the arbitrator Pantani and a failure to take him seriously. Santoro threw a well-chewed card almost into the arbitrator’s mouth, and then pointed to the other two by way of incrimination.

  “You can see for yourself!” he turned to me as I was the only person willing to listen to him. “This is supposed to be a library!” He was also going “ssshhhhhh” and his two open hands pleaded for quiet. I did not feel very relaxed in his presence, particularly because of the difference between his clothing and mine, which was not exactly elegant.

  “The people don’t deserve such a man. Just look at him seated at his work!” he said pointing to Professor Rasorio.

  “He comes here every night to prepare his lectures, and have you noticed the lack of respect they show him? He needs to be allowed to think; his brain is an encyclopaedia.

  We should keep quiet, and he needs the lights low. That’s what a library does: it helps learning and scholarship by providing a peaceful environment. But people are ignorant, particularly in here.”

  It seemed to me that he was looking at Iris’s legs, as she turned and walked away.

  “Now listen, my dear sir, to what happens in the world as a result of this ignorance.”

  A beetle was flying around my head, which I shook to discourage the insect, but the arbitrator took this to mean I was very interested, while I just wanted to get on with my research.

  “You should know,” he said, “that when we first invited Professor Rasorio to the municipality of Villacuccagna, where I reside during the day, to give a lecture on his latest research into gigantism and dwarfism, which, I might say, has already earned him a place in the history of scientific thought – just think that he is mentioned three times in the History of Scientific Thought by the famous, the eminent Professor Materdura, Volume Two, and a fourth time in the notes – yes, when he came to speak at the theatre in Villacuccagna, the entire citizenry turned out to hear him, with magnificent pomp and ceremony. There were all the most noteworthy ladies in the first row along with their respective husbands, all professionals or in the employ of municipal corporations, there were our most gifted intellects with their pupils, and there were the people who generally form – no offence intended – the common but honest citizenry of every town. Everyone was there: how else can we put it?. Even those left outside turned out in some strange way to have already got in, and the theatre, which has six hundred seats, was full with over two thousand people, I believe, and that is not counting those who hid behind the scenes, under the stage and inside the curtain, because there were even people there. This is just to explain the extent of the interest and resulting crush.

  Professor Rasorio started to speak at exactly nine o’clock and continued for an hour and twenty minutes without notes or a single sheet of paper in front of him, and with such clarity, penetration, innovative tones, balanced discourse and conceptual virtuosity that the whole audience was thrilled. On more than one occasion they would have interrupted him – except that this would have been seen as bad manners – to thank him and express their overwhelming endorsement which they had been wanting to do since nine o’clock or perhaps since the afternoon. When he gave signs of coming to his conclusions by summarising with great tact his concise lesson but having nevertheless amply demonstrated his theory and when he actually concluded by celebrating the new and limitless scientific horizons that had been opened, the theatre exploded in thunderous applause. Applause and not just applause. Endless applause.

  “At this stage, I felt a presentiment that all this enthusiasm might lead very slowly towards some form of aberration, as sadly has often occurred in our city in relation to events that are in some way motivated by loftier and more exalted ideals than it can ever aspire to. I too applauded, and nobody wanted, it seems, to be the first to stop. The professor responded with small bows involving a forward motion of the chest and measured nods of his head. But instead of bringing the enthusiasm to an end, this dignified and composed behaviour only rekindled it.

  When the professor lifted his eyes to the gallery, there was another flurry of universal delirium, and the shouts started. Frankly I could not see a solution in the short term and was rather concerned, partly for the good name of science. ‘What a penetrating mind!’ I heard the Councillor Paganini saying close to me, as he bowed towards Mrs Peroni. And Mrs Peroni, together with other wellestablished or younger ladies, continued to applaud in an exaggerated manner in order to attract attention. She was checking on Mrs Bonacci’s applause with withering and, I believe, intentionally contemptuous looks, because this other lady in the row behind was shouting in a booming voice, ‘Bravo! Bravo!’ and thus ourperforming all the other women and demonstrating herself to be the most distinguished and perceptive expert on the questions so splendidly elucidated. She continued to issue forth these bravos as soon the applause started to subside a little bit, and her voice could be heard very clearly. So then you could appreciate her own knowledge and the fact that she had studied at Pavia under Professor Velluto, who had been a luminary in his own time and one of the greatest intellects when it came to pathological microcephalies – and, what is more, one who had a particular weakness for her, at the time endowed with long and beautiful hair.

  “During one of these renewals of the applause, Mrs Peroni fell victim to what I can only define as an insane inspiration, which arose solely in order to compete with the insane ‘bravos’ of Mrs Bonacci and beat her, given that the word ‘cerebrum’ had been used not once but twice during the lecture, and so no one, in her opinion, could judge in the substance of the talk better than her who, though not a specialist, alone amongst all the teachers in that lecture hall was famous for her passion for all matters concerning the human psyche or psychology. So Mrs Peroni started to shout, first at a moderate pitch and then warbling fiercely, ‘Encore’, and she persisted with chanting that implausible ‘Encore, encore!’ while never conceding any ground.

  “Now, I ask myself, how could the mind of a human being who has attained not only a university entrance diploma but also, it appears, a degree, possibly harbour such a bizarre idea? How could you demand an encore of a scienti
st who, albeit in a populist presentation, had provided laboratory information and conceptual framework that was utterly exhaustive? Methodologically, that was how I interpreted the situation, and I still do. But people gradually started to prefer the ‘encore’ to Bonacci’s ‘bravo’, and soon they were shouting ‘encore’ from every corner of the hall, in an unseemly and irrational fashion. I wanted to climb up onto the stage and defend science by asserting, ‘But please, what is all this about an encore! Go home.’ And yet even the councillor with the environmental portfolio, Ario Soffritti, who was already on the stage and applauding a metre away from Professor Rasorio, was repeating “Encore, encore!” in a very loud voice almost into the professor’s ear. But then something quite unexpected happened – something I consider also to be unprecedented: this scientist of ours did not appear to be at all put out or disconcerted; he did not send the audience and the council leaders to the devil for their outrageous behaviour; no indeed, he even appeared to feel honoured and understood at last. Perhaps it was only excessive courteousness on his part. He stood up, went back to the microphone and, when silence had returned, did not say, ‘Thank you, I am extremely moved, but now we’ll go home to our beds,’ but instead he cleared his throat and uttered sentences of his speech exactly as he had just done, ‘Kind ladies and gentlemen, to conclude this brief and summary lecture of mine, which, I believe, has demonstrated my theory which I have expounded and illustrated here for the first time, and which from this evening opens up new and limitless horizons to science.’ “Once again the applause exploded with shouts of ‘bravo! encore! encore!’ People exchanged looks to signify, ‘Up with science! Let’s go for it! Let’s hear a repeat of something else!’ and at the same time Mrs Peroni gloated at her victory over Mrs Bonacci. Given that time was going by and the whole business was showing no signs of coming to an end, Councillor Soffritti got his voice heard at the microphone after many meaningful coughs, ‘Eminent professor, you must understand that this enthusiasm, which I fully share, is a tribute to you as a person and to your studies. And allow me to say this, your studies are ahead of today and tomorrow, and are in fact an appointment with the day after tomorrow…’ shouts of agreement and more applause, ‘… and as you are here, you will excuse us, we wish to say that true science can suffer no gag or be associated with any particular flag, and because of this we want to make the most of this opportunity and not let you go without hearing once again and understanding most fully…’ but he could not continue because the audience had understood where the circumlocution was going and they overwhelmed him with encores mixed with shouts and exaltations. ‘Encore, encore,’ was shouted from the gods, and also from the stage. Even the stalls, usually so measured, judicious and rational, were prey to a shameful, exploitative and base frenzy, and was shouting ‘Encore!’ under the leadership of Mrs Peroni and a claque of mindless psychoanalysts.

  “The councillor muttered something to our illustrious guest, who decorously agreed. Silence returned once more, the ladies threw their gold and jewellery, and the professor, sensing the public’s mood and propensity not only for the subject but also for his oratory, conceded a slight smile of condescension and said without stopping for breath, ‘Not without pride I assert that from this moment there opens up a new horizon for science to examine – something limitless.’ For a moment there was a thoughtful silence that hung in the air, because the new formulation was more profound and difficult; we might say that it was more philosophical than strictly scientific with that idea of limitlessness falling at the end of the sentence. Then the unanimous encore was a deafening wave of swooning and enthusiastic zeal, a restlessness. ‘It all went so well; it went so well!’ I heard the deputy mayor repeating close to me in a kind of euphoric monologue. The chaos was indescribable.

  The councillor with the environment portfolio wished to get some of the credit and gain in popularity, so he stuck the microphone in front of the professor, and you could hear alone in the midst of that hullabaloo of bravos and encores, his shrill voice enunciate a sound similar to or rhyming with ‘limitless’, after which the microphone started to screech terribly. After this, the professor bowed and withdrew behind the scenes, while the audience spontaneously organised a kind of chorus accompanied by drumming and tapping of heels on the floor. From the stage there even came the music of accordions and ocarinas, which eventually degenerated into patriotic songs and hymns to culture in general.”

  “Thank you, thank you, this has been most instructive,”

  I told him, but I could have wept and begged for pity, “I have learnt a great deal, but I have a lot of work to do; I have to sort out my texts.” I looked around for Iris to see if she could find some pretext for getting him away from me, but she’d returned to the walkway because of an incompatibility with the arbitrator Pantani. She was a long way off, because that room was actually a corridor, and Iris could be seen right at the end of it close to the ceiling. Pantani also seemed to be constantly seeking her out with his eyes, even when he was talking.

  So ignoring him completely as though he were a superfluity, I returned to my pile of dusty papers with the frowning air of a teacher in a full-time position who knows what he wants.

  How philosophers are born

  One of the most singular and fascinating philosophical causes célèbres that ever occurred was the case of the young but highly regarded philosopher whose head, tastes and lifestyle were precisely those of a sheep.

  In public he always showed an unfailing repugnance for all meat, whether raw or cooked, and he would shun it like a personal adversary. He ate pears, apples, chicory, bread and, above all, a type of biscuit from his native town, which his mother would bake for him from time to time. He would only drink water.

  He developed a very formal language made up of signs and very few sounds meaning: I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, I’m tired, I want to eat a biscuit. All the rest, he made it clear, was of no importance, and he made it clear by lifting and lowering his head, and rubbing his head against the legs of anyone who came by, as sheep do. When his students argued amongst themselves, he was in the habit of hitting them with his horns, which meant, “You haven’t studied!

  Do you want to be failed?”

  He never wanted to sit on a chair to rest or give his lessons. He crouched on the ground and bleated.

  His back, hips and shoulders were covered with a grey and very soft fur which was an inch or two long, with the appearance of wool, but actually rather repellent.

  Some mountebanks saw him, and suggested to the rector that he should be displayed at fairs and markets in the area, but in spite of the considerable pecuniary advantage, the rector would not allow it and instead he would take the philosopher to the fields with his flock and occasionally have him sheared.

  …

  Rumination in human beings, as an organic symptom of methodical thought, still has a very limited case record. Its mechanism and nature are still subject to a question that is sub judice. Professor Piva and Doctor Sacco were eminent academics whose personal theoretical positions need to be associated with a very marked ruminative and herbivorous tendency, if they are to be understood.

  The former had healthy and robust dentition, voluminous and vertical ears, and swollen and hardened temples that stuck out. His proportions were macrocephalous, and he was covered in very short bristles. The latter, distinguished by a reflective physiognomy and a heavy build, had a large nose, frontal swelling with considerable protuberance and the presence of corneous callosity. His hair covered the entire scaly portion of the temporal area and extended so far that it blended into the eyebrows. Both became very happy at the sight of food, and both had an insatiable hunger. They immediately went for those foods that appeared to have the greatest bulk. They hardly chewed at all. They swallowed enormous mouthfuls, and occasionally ran the risk of suffocating. They often brought their mouth close to the bowl, using their tongue as a prehensile organ. Between one food ration and another, Professor Piva in particular liked
to spend a lot of time tearing up grass, putting it in his mouth, triturating it and swallowing it, and it should be noted that were he prevented from doing this, he would not set up about chewing rags, threads, sticks or anything else that came to hand in place of grass. In other words, he was quite capable of distinguishing between grass and everything else, and if it had been dried and was in the form of hay, he still appreciated it. According to Dumur and Liebman, rumination is due to a spasm of the pylorus, from which food is regurgitated to the mouth.

  Indeed rumination took place in these two, ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after ingestion of their food, heralded by the same expressions of joy that accompanied the beginning of their meal. A hydro-aerated sound could be heard, which could only be defined as sloshing. This was occasionally accompanied by emissions of gas. You could then see the extension and retraction of the neck, by which the chin moved close and further away from the manubrium of the breastbone. The abdominal muscles contracted, abdominal walls pulsated. Then the throat swelled and the mouth filled with its gastric content. This made it possible for them to start chewing incessantly with sideways movements of the jaw, which they did with a serious expression, very conscious of themselves. Sometimes rumination was very peaceful, at others it was noisy.

  They could ruminate in any position, but they were most successful when they were left to themselves in the fields, and they felt unobserved and alone in the presence of cattle.