However， as the moment to board his train approached， along with the chance to turn dreams of London into reality， Des Esseintes was abruptly overcome with 30)lassitude. He thought how wearing it would be actually to go to London， how he would have to run to the station， fight for a porter， board the train， endure an unfamiliar bed， stand in queues， feel cold and move his fragile frame around the sights that Baedeker had so tersely described—and thus 31)soil his dreams： “What was the good of moving when a person could travel so wonderfully sitting in a chair？ Wasn’t he already in London， whose smells， weather， citizens， food， and even 32)cutlery were all about him？ What could he expect to find over there except fresh disappointments？”
So Des Esseintes paid the bill， left the tavern and took the first train back to his villa， along with his 33)trunks， his packages， his 34)portmanteaux， his rugs， his umbrellas and his sticks—and never left home again.
We are familiar with the notion that the reality of travel is not what we anticipate. The pessimistic school， of which Des Esseintes might be an honorary 35)patron， therefore argues that reality must always be disappointing. It may be truer and more rewarding to suggest that it is primarily different.
…
There was one other country that， many years before his intended trip to England， Des Esseintes had wanted to see： Holland. He had imagined the place to resemble the paintings of 36)Teniers and 37)Jan Steen， 38)Rembrandt and 39)Ostade； he had anticipated 40)patriarchal simplicity and 41)riotous joviality； quiet small brick courtyards and pale-faced maids pouring milk. And so he had journeyed to 42)Haarlem and43)Amsterdam—and been greatly disappointed. It was not that the paintings had lied， there had been some simplicity and joviality， some nice brick courtyards and a few serving women pouring milk， but these 44)gems were blended in a 45)stew of ordinary images (restaurants， offices， uniform houses and featureless fields) which these Dutch artists had never painted and which made the experience of travelling in the country strangely 46)diluted compared with an afternoon in the Dutch galleries of the 47)Louvre， where the essence of Dutch beauty found itself collected in just a few rooms.
Des Esseintes ended up in the 48)paradoxical position of feeling more in Holland—that is more intensely in contact with the elements he loved in Dutch culture—when looking at selected images of Holland in a museum than when travelling with sixteen pieces of luggage and two servants through the country itself.
…
After Holland and his abortive visit to England， Des Esseintes did not attempt another journey abroad. He remained in his villa and surrounded himself with a series of objects which facilitated the finest aspect of travel， its anticipation. He had coloured prints hung on his walls， like those in travel agents’ windows， showing foreign cities， museums， hotels and steamers bound for 49)Valparaiso or the 50)River Plate. He had the 51)itineraries of the major shipping companies framed and lined his bedroom with them. He filled an 52)aquarium with seaweed， bought a 53)sail， some 54)rigging and a pot of 55)tar and， with their help， was able to experience the most pleasant aspects of a long sea voyage without any of its inconveniences. Des Esseintes concluded， in Huysmans’s words， that “the imagination could provide a more-than-adequate substitute for the56)vulgar reality of actual experience”. Actual experience where what we have come to see is always diluted in what we could see anywhere， where we are drawn away from the present by an anxious future and where our appreciation of 57)aesthetic elements remains 58)at the mercy of perplexing physical and psychological demands.