Letters From Prison (65 page)

You advise me to take up writing history? I have tried: they have thwarted me in that effort,
³
and besides, I don’t really have the taste or talent for history. What’s more, even the best-written books of history have trouble finding more than two hundred readers, whereas even the least talented comedies manage to attain an audience of three or four thousand souls.

Please forgive me for such a long letter; but I write you so rarely that when I do I more than make up for it. I embrace you with all my heart. A thousand greetings to Madame de Saint-Germain.

1
. Sade is doubtless referring to his former tutor’s critical reading of his play
Tancr
é
de,
which was drawn from Tasso and which Sade completed in January 1784. The play has been lost.

2
. A theater critic of the day.

3
. Because, Sade implies, to write history he would need all sorts of reference works constantly available, and, despite the extent of his personal library, obtaining many tomes he needed or wanted was like pulling teeth.

95. To Madame de Sade

June 8, 1784

S
o now the real reason why you have been so terribly overheated, why you have been in such a frightful state each time you have come to see me, is at long last revealed:
¹
’tis because you have come on foot, like some shopkeeper, like some
streetwalking prostitute
. . . And your parents allow that, and your knavish servants make no effort to prevent it! How low can they stoop! What unspeakable conduct on their part! . . . Listen, I have made a vow to myself not to lose my temper, I promised to write this letter with as cool a head as I can . . . Thus I have only one word to say to you, and that is, if ever again you arrive in such a state, I swear to you on all that I hold most sacred in the world that I shall refuse to see you, that I shall return immediately to my room and I shall never again come back downstairs to see you as long as I live. And what is the reason for you to act in such an inexcusable manner? If you truly cared for me at all, would you not make every effort to take care of yourself, would you not sense that my only happiness, my only hope, is to find you in good health when I get out of here? Why do you want to disappoint that sole and dear hope to which I hold so strongly, by so exposing yourself to bodily harm the way you do, by risking your very life? A woman alone, on foot, in the streets? Think of the dangers . . . a drunken man . . . a stone thrown by some street urchin . . . a tile that falls from some roof onto the street . . . the shaft of some carriage that tears loose . . . some other problem I can’t foresee . . . Even assuming that none of those dangers actually come to pass: the fact is, you arrive bathed in perspiration in a damp room, you remain there for a good two hours without changing clothes, and then you head home the same way you came. Verily, you must be out of your mind, I mean mad beyond all description, to put yourself thus at risk . . . And have you thought for one moment of the distress it causes me? Isn’t my situation difficult enough without your making it even worse by the worry that such foolishness causes me? If you persist in behaving this way, I swear I shall refuse to see you for the rest of my life. Nor do I want to hear you claim that you are doing it
in order to get a bit of exercise.
When a woman such as you needs to get some exercise, all she has to do is go for a stroll in the park: there are enough parks in Paris specifically made for that purpose; and she does not come on foot to pay visits. I shall return the book for which you paid twelve livres; I do not want it bruited about that I am ready and willing to pay twelve livres for books while my wife deprives herself of even the most basic necessities of life. Doubtless that was what you had in mind all along; to raise your esteem in people’s eyes, at my expense; ‘twas to make people say:
Monsieur spares himself no expense, while Madame is forced to travel about on foot,
and thereby make me look even more ludicrous than I already am. Thank you for that latest kindness; ’tis most touching; I really can’t thank you enough. —Ah! there’s really no point trying to overcome, by whatever means I can find, the humiliation into which the horror of my fate has forced me, while at the same time, by your own meannesses and odious methods, all you are trying to do is thrust me a hundred times deeper into that state of utter embarrassment. But what precisely do you do with my income, after all? I suppose I cost you roughly two thousand crowns a year: that leaves you with an annual income of twenty-eight thousand livres. What
do
you do with it? Debts have to be dealt with. That I take to mean:
paying off debts according to the rules of Paris,
which translates into,
thirty thousand livres over a period of fifteen years
paid into the hands of
managers, bailiffs, administrators, tutors,
and other rogues and scoundrels of the same ilk, in order to liquidate
sixty thousand
in debts . . . Oh! I know all your mother’s little tricks of the trade, as well as those of all the crooks she uses to eat up our nest egg! And that is why madame goes about on foot, so that
Comrade Albaret
can save two or three thousand francs, which fit nicely into her own pocket, thank you. Patience, patience . . . You had better have your accounting books strictly in order,
Ladies
or Gentlemen of the administration, that is my advice to you, for they will have to deal with someone who will be casting an eagle eye upon them. Odious stepmother, mother unworthy to bear that name, to think that you would allow your own daughter to go out and about on foot in weather such as this, expose her to the danger of an inflammation of the lungs simply so that she can further bribe the band of scoundrels who surround and advise her! And you expect me to keep that to myself! You think that I shall not let it be known far and wide as soon as I am in a position to do so! May the prison locks that presently keep me from crying out how urgently these atrocities need to be made known, may they be opened only to let me tell all of Europe how odious her conduct is, and may I be allowed to remain alive so that I may depict her, in the eyes of the entire universe, as
vile
and as
base
as she deserves to be portrayed! To have a hundred thousand crowns of income and allow her daughter to go about on foot! Yes, ’tis to risk her daughter’s life; ’tis known and proven that not a day goes by without someone having an accident in the streets of Paris. Who is to say that you will not be the next person to whom such misfortune will befall? In short, I do not want you to come any longer by foot. First and foremost, I forbid you to do so by the prerogatives that are mine as your husband, my tender feelings for you, and
the misfortunes that are mine.
Is that not enough? Well then, I throw myself at your feet in the name of everything you hold most dear in the world and beseech you not to inflict this further sorrow upon me! If it happens again, know both that I shall find out about it, be obliged to disown you, no matter how long and difficult it may be for me to adjust to that situation, and you may be sure that I shall never see you again as long as I live. No excuses, no procrastinations, by saying: Oh! but I live only a stone’s throw from here. I couldn’t care a fig! Even if you lived literally in the shadow of the Bastille, I would forbid you to come and see me on foot. If ’tis the expenses I’m incurring that bother you, and if we are both obliged to cut all our expense to the bone in order to pay off
the scoundrels in your mother’s entourage,
then so be it. Do let me know, and I shall take
upon myself whatever
steps are required, assume whatever hardships are necessary, I shall do without everything, I shall eat only bread and sleep upon the bare floor, providing you lack for nothing. The next time you come, I forbid you to bring me anything. And ’tis not only when you’re paying me a visit that you come by foot, since you mentioned that one day you ran into
Aldonze.
²
That proves you go out frequently. Mark thee well, I strictly forbid you to do that ever again, and bear in mind that there is no way you can wound me more than to repeat those same despicable acts and stupidities such as the one you have just made.

Please give the enclosed letter to Agatha.
³

I beseech you, please reassure me and put my mind at ease; do let me know that you swear you will never again come on foot.

[Letter enclosed]

To Madame Le Faure,

I was much reassured to learn, Mademoiselle, that you were in my wife’s service, and I flattered myself that since you had long been attached to her there was no danger she would do anything stupid or imprudent so long as you were there. But what I have learned revolts me, and I hope and trust you are thoroughly aware that I shall never forgive you for having allowed her to go [through Paris] on foot. Whenever she has need to go out, and her mother is so
vile
and so
loathsome
as to not provide her forthwith with her best horse-drawn carriage available, I ask that you order La Jeunesse to go out and fetch for her the best and the handiest he can find on such short notice, even though she might need it for only an hour; and starting today, June 8, the date of this request, if I learn that you have failed to comply with this request, I give you my word of honor that as soon as I am able to, my first concern will be to put my wife into the hands of someone who knows better how to take of her than you obviously do.

I send you my greetings.

1
. Madame de Sade had paid her husband a visit at the Bastille the day before, June 7.

2
. Probably a code name.
Aldonze,
or
Aldonse,
is an old Provençal name that the Count de Sade had wanted as the second name for his son. However, the parish priest at Saint-Sulpice in Paris, unfamiliar with the Provençal name, wrote Alphonse on the birth certificate.

3
. Madame Le Faure for many years had been in Madame de Sade’s service.

96. To Madame de Sade

THE SUBLIME REASONING OF MADAME

CORDIER, WIFE OF THE PRESIDING JUDGE

OF THE SAME NAME

September 4, 1784

’T
is a good six months now that they have been driving my son-in-law to distraction with mere trifles:
they’ve blinded him in one eye, they’ve lied to him, they’ve only rarely let him out for walks in the fresh air.
All of that is nothing; I’m reaping no enjoyment from it, my belly is bloated, I have trouble digesting my food, I toss and turn all night. Enough, O ye torturer! Draw nigh, and do a better job of tormenting my son-in-law, I beg of you.

THE TORTURER

OR THE FORMER BODYGUARD DE LOSME

But Madame, he is behaving like an angel. What the devil do you want us to do to him?

MADAME CORDIER

You rascal, you! What do you think I’m paying you for, to sing his praises? What do I care whether he’s behaving properly or improperly? If you cannot focus on his faults or shortcomings, then punish him for his virtues. Are you completely ignorant of the art of making scenes, of settings traps? Isn’t that what I’m paying you for? My son-in-law’s sentiments are tainted with a streak of nobility? then treat him impudently, and he’ll respond to the bait by telling you to go f-off: when he does, they’ll confine him to his room; consequently, no more walks. And then, think of him as having a
noble streak in him,
with me who is nothing but
noble!
—My son-in-law is extremely well organized; he doesn’t like to throw money out of the window. Make him pay 28 livres, seventeen sous for an object that is really worth six livres. I shall split the profit with you. He’ll protest, he’ll claim that he’s being made to pay far more for what he buys than what the article is worth: at which point, inform him that
his right to buy
has been suspended, to teach him not to be so profligate. Thus, you can see, you imbecile, since you can’t seem to focus on his faults, now he’ll be punished for his virtues! And I shall sleep more peacefully, shit better, etc.

And yet that is the way your atrocious mother so basely reasons! And that is the way for the past twelve years that abominable creature has been leading me down the garden path and sticking her nose in every aspect of my life! And you truly believe that I shall not take my revenge? And you fancy for a moment that the word
free
will make me forget everything that’s been done to me? If that were ever to happen, you may judge me the most cowardly and most unworthy of men.

At this season of the year the two foods I need for survival are fresh air and fruit: I see very little difference between slitting my throat or being deprived of those two necessities. The food here is horrible. So long as I had the means to supplement the normal prison fare, I said nothing. But when it reaches a point where I can no longer survive, ’tis time to lodge a complaint. Although asking you about my needs or talking to a stone is more or less the same thing, I nonetheless beg you to make a case for the fact that I cannot live without these two things, and let them shift their harassments to something else if that is possible, because they ought not to focus on a person’s basic needs, and for me those two really are. If only you could see the
stinking and absolutely abominable so-called meat
they serve here, you would easily understand that someone who is used to refined food needs to supplement it out of his own money. They can no longer use the pretense that my complaints are based upon the fact that I
steadfastly maintain they are stealing from me,
for I have given a sworn statement to the contrary. Thus if they refuse to let me purchase supplementary food ’tis only because of their own anger and ill temper, especially when you are as prompt to pay as I trust you are. Meanwhile, please be so kind as to take care of the following list: