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De SadeDe Sade was apparently not only a man with interesting tastes, but one with a knack for jailbreaks. |
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French philosopher Donatien Aldonse Louis de Sade argued, often eloquently, for the rejection of faith and religion and embrace of the self and its desires: All universal moral principles are idle fantasies. However, he often couched his arguments in hoary smut: He used to like to slap a whore's face; as a mature man, he twists her head around until it faces backward. When so adjusted, one may simultaneously look at her face and at her buttocks.[1] Due to its objectionable nature, de Sade's literary work was a constant thorn in his side throughout his life, requiring him to alternately deny and claim authorship. De Sade lived in uncertain times: the bright light of the monarchy was fading in France and, while his writings were considered appalling under Louis XVI, they were held up as a shining example of aristocratic debauchery after the revolution and distributed as the propaganda of the new democracy. That's the Way Love GoesIt was de Sade's unusual sexual proclivities that made him the man who lent his name to the term 'sadism', and although his personal preferences are perverse by today's standards, they were not particularly unusual for young aristocrats in the eighteenth century. It was his writings -- 'Justine', '120 Days of Sodom', 'Lusts of the Libertines', and others -- which branded him an arch pornographer. The lion's share of these writings involve varying combinations of dubious sexual activities, violence, and fecal matter.[2] They disgusted and intrigued Parisian society; one reader acknowledged that while the works themselves were repulsive, she felt compelled to read every page before suggesting they should all be burned. His work aside, de Sade was a rather romantic figure, spending some 29 years behind bars (either prison or asylum), and escaping in circumstances that shame the Scarlet Pimpernel. It's No ViagraOur story begins in the town of Marseilles, in June 1772. A man of voracious appetites with a few days to kill, de Sade sent forth his servant Latour in search of courtesans for entertainment. Latour admirably executed his duty. He procured four young ladies of negotiable virtue, ages 18 to 23 (de Sade himself had entreated Latour to get "very young girls"). During the ensuing sordid amusements, de Sade offered three of the girls aniseed sweets. The orgy lasted all night, and a fifth girl was added to the fray the following evening. This last one, Marguerite Coste, gorged herself on the candies. These were, however, not your ordinary candy. These particular bon bons were coated in sugar soaked in Spanish Fly (or cantharides), a toxic substance famed for its aphrodisiac qualities.[3] Marguerite's ravenous sweet tooth led her to be racked with abdominal pain some hours later. Soon after, the authorities were notified that a stranger had poisoned poor Ms Coste, and she was duly examined. For a week, the prostrate girl was vomiting 'a black and fetid substance' that resembled "a butcher's rinsewater". What's more, her examining doctors found "her eyes sparkling, her face red and inflamed, her tongue moist and covered with a white mucus, her pulse strong and rapid."[4] They concluded 1. That these symptoms arise from the laceration and cauterisation of the smooth membrane of the stomach and intestines. 2. That this laceration was produced by a bitter, corrosive substance, probably contained in the pastilles that the patient ate. 3. That although the patient is not in imminent danger of death, she is in a very critical, a highly critical condition.[5] Run to MommaDe Sade did not dally, and, realizing that trouble was close at hand, fled to Italy by sea. He hid under an assumed name (the comte de Mazan) with his sister-in-law, Anne, canoness of a Benedictine priory, whom he had met six months earlier on a family holiday. The journey was not uneventful. A wild storm caused many passengers to fear for their lives. De Sade had skilfully disguised himself as a monk (an obvious choice when we consider he was accompanied by a canoness), and we can only imagine his delight as the seasick passengers flung themselves at his feet, confessing their dirty little secrets and begging absolution.[6] The ship, however, did not sink. De Sade and Anne arrived safely in Italy, and the star-struck lovers spent a few happy weeks together touring the country. But the romance did not last, and by October 7, 1772, Anne had returned to stay in the de Sade family home with her sister, Rene-Pelagie, de Sade's remarkably tolerant wife. Later that month, de Sade himself reappeared in France. He must have been aware that in his absence he and his servant had been found guilty and had been condemned "to be decapitated... and then the body to be burned... and his ashes to be thrown to the wind." Already both he and his servant had been burned in effigy. Perhaps this is why he thought the coast was clear, but he was either very daring, or incredibly nai:ve to show his face on French soil. His freedom was short-lived. What, Do You Think It Grows on Trees?It was de Sade's mother in law -- appropriately known as 'La Presidente' who blew the whistle. Horrified that he should corrupt her youngest daughter, and a canoness to boot, she found out where he was holed up, and prevailed upon the Duke D'Aiguillon to ask the King of Sardinia's ambassador to issue a Royal order to arrest the unfortunate Marquis. She was nothing if not a woman with contacts. But La Presidente had another reason for wishing to see de Sade imprisoned. He was spending her money like water. De Sade never understood the value of money, and did not care where it came from so long as it kept coming. He spent thousands on clothes, whores and hush money, and even financed his jaunt in Italy from his mother-in-law's coffers.[7] La Presidente was obliged by the custom of the time to continue to finance his dissolute lifestyle, or risk family dishonour. On December 8, 1772, his villa was silently surrounded by a squadron of French police. At 9:00pm, they ordered him to surrender arms, took him into custody and searched the house, burning his papers. They found nothing incriminating but maintained a vigil overnight, and the next morning delivered him to the citadel of Miolans with four mounted escorts. De Sade petitioned King Charles-Emmanuel III for his freedom. In an impassioned letter he wrote of his mother-in-law as ...guided by the most odious self-interest, and who aspires to nothing by my total ruin, profiting from my misfortunes to call down on me all the rigour of the law, to have me condemned, and thus to oblige me to absent myself forever...."[8] But prison life wasn't all bad. De Sade was allocated the largest and most comfortable room in the Citadel, and allowed to furnish it to his taste. His loyal servant, Latour slept in an adjoining room, although was permitted to sleep in his master's room. Latour himself had been convicted of sodomy with de Sade; one suspects these sleeping arrangements were satisfactory to both of them. De Sade had an open fireplace, kept two small dogs and could even make arrangements with the kitchen for his favourite food. However, knowing his status as a man of letters, his captors forbade him to send or receive any mail. Flush with SuccessDe Sade complained endlessly, finding fault in the tiniest of indiscretions and driving his jailers mad. His commandant reported him to be ... unreliable as he is hot tempered and impulsive... capable of some desperate action.[9] This habit of cantankerousness proved useful.[10] De Sade had made a habit of dining with a fellow inmate, the baron de L'Alle'e, of an evening. Complaining that their food always arrived cold, de Sade petitioned the commandant to allow them to eat in the canteen. The commandant obliged, allowing them to be served in private quarters next door. In these quarters was a small store room, and in this store room were latrines -- and the only window without bars. At 7:00pm on the night of April 29, 1773, de Sade and the baron met for dinner, as usual, next to the canteen. They were served by Latour, who waited until the staff were in the midst of dinner themselves, before stealing the key to de Sade's cell. He raced up to his master's room, lit the candles, left two sealed messages on the table, and quickly scampered back the Marquis and his friend, joining them for the remainder of their repast. At around 8:30, de Sade climbed out the latrine window, closely followed by the baron and Latour. Meanwhile, de Sade's guard had finished his own dinner, and returned to his post. Seeing candlelight through the keyhole, he assumed that the marquis and the baron were playing checkers, and knowing de Sade's hatred for being disturbed in the middle of a game, he let the two men play, and settled in for a snooze. The three fugitives made good their escape. At around 3:00am, the guard awoke, and noting that the candles were still burning in the prisoner's cell, suspected that something was up. He woke the commandant, who raced up the stairs, had the door opened, and, of course, found it empty. Feverishly tearing open one of the notes he read the opening lines, Sir, if anything can spoil the joy I feel at freeing myself from my chains, it is my fear that you may be held responsible for my escape. After all your decency and kindness, I cannot conceal from you the fact that this thought troubles me...."[11] The three spent the night on the run, arriving at the village of Chapareillant before dawn. From there they fled to Grenoble. The search party were hopelessly late, and De Sade was free. Footnotes
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