Crimes of Passion

Marquis de Sade

• Publisher: Philosophical Library/Open Road
• Year: 2018
• eBook ISBN: 9781504055055
• Topic: Psychology
• Subtopic: Abnormal Psychology
• Index: Psychology

Originally published in 1800, Crimes of Passion contained eleven stories and an essay on the novel. The present book contains three abridged tales. In "Florville and Courval" we find not only a reinterpretation and elaboration of the Oedipus myth, but an unforgettable illustration of Donatien Alphonse François de Sade's artistic creed. He was not simply an eccentric aristocrat with artistic pretensions, but a pathological rebel against the Age of Enlightenment, and a prisoner of the Prince of Darkness. The historical tale of "Juliette and Raunai" is sentimental and melodramatic. In it, virtue triumphs, but not before the lovers have run the gamut of human suffering. "Miss Henriette Stralson" has a contemporary setting and ranks above his historical tales. In it, virtue wins only a pyrrhic victory.

FLORVILLE AND COURVAL or FATE

Courval had just turned fifty. Healthy and energetic, he could count on another twenty years of life. He had had nothing but trouble with his first wife, who had forsaken him many years earlier for a life of debauchery. Assuming that unimpeachable witnesses were correct in stating that this creature was in her grave, he toyed with the notion of forming an alliance a second time with a level-headed person who, by virtue of her excellent morals and gentle character, might actually make him forget his earlier misfortunes.

His children had brought him as much unhappiness as had his wife. He had only two, a girl whom he had lost when she was quite young and a boy who had forsaken him at the age of fifteen to follow in the footsteps of his wife. Believing that nothing could ever bind him to such a monster, Courval planned to disinherit him and to give his possessions to the children who he hoped would issue from the projected union. He had an income of fifteen thousand pounds, the fruit of his labors in the business world. He lived honorably in the company of a few friends who loved and respected him, sometimes in Paris where he had an attractive apartment on the Rue Saint-Marc, more often on a charming little estate near Nemours, where he spent two-thirds of the year.

The good man confided in his friends and insisted, once they had approved of his plan, that they make inquiries among their acquaintances concerning a person between the ages of thirty and thirty-five, a widow or a spinster, who might suit his purposes.

Two days later one of his former associates came to him and reported that he had found just the right person for him. “The girl that I offer to you,” said his friend, “has two faults. I must begin by telling you about them first so that I can console you afterwards by recounting her good qualities. I am assured that she has no father or mother, but no one knows who they were or when she lost them. All that is known is that she is a cousin of Saint-Prât, a well-known man who vouches for her, who holds her in high esteem, and who will shower upon her well-deserved praise. She has inherited nothing from her relatives but is given an allowance of four thousand francs by Saint-Prât, in whose house she has lived since childhood. That is the first thing that goes against her. As for the second, she had an affair at the age of sixteen. The child is no longer alive, and she has never seen its father again. Those are the bad things. Now for the good.

“Florville is thirty-six, but she hardly looks twenty-eight. You couldn’t find more pleasing and more interesting features than hers. She is the soul of sweetness and delicacy, her skin is as white as a lily, and her dark hair falls to the ground. Her ruddy lips, attractively adorned, are like a rose in spring. She is rather tall but so well proportioned and so graceful in her movements that her height, which otherwise would make her look somewhat austere, goes unnoticed. Her arms, her neck, her legs—every part of her body is well shaped and she has a type of beauty that will not show the ravages of age for a long time. You may not approve of the extreme regularity of her conduct, however, for she does not like to mingle with people, preferring instead to live in seclusion. She is very pious, very diligent in the performance of her tasks in the convent where she lives. And if through her religious qualities she exerts an edifying influence on all those around her, through her wit and winsome ways she captivates all those who see her. In a word, she is an angel sent down to this world by Heaven to gladden your old age.”

Courval, spellbound by what he had heard, entreated his friend to introduce him without delay to his prospective bride.

“The question of her birth doesn’t bother me,” he said. “If her blood is pure, how it was transmitted to her doesn’t matter. Nor am I upset by the affair she had when she was sixteen. She has made amends for her mistake by living virtuously for many years. Nothing can stop me. I said that I would only marry a woman between thirty or thirty-five, but I could hardly expect to get a virgin as well. So your proposal is quite acceptable, and I am eager to see my bride.”

Courval’s friend soon complied with the request. Three days later he had a dinner for Courval and the prospective bride. It was hard for Courval to keep from being seduced from the outset by the charming girl. She had the features of Minerva herself, enhanced by love. Since she knew why she was there, she was even more reticent than usual, and her modesty, reserve, noble bearing, extraordinary physical charms, gentle character, and sparkling wit won him over completely. He begged his friend to bring the affair to a speedy conclusion.

They saw each other two or three more times, either in the same house or in the home of Courval or of Saint-Prât. Finally Florville acceded to Courval’s entreaties and declared that nothing flattered her more than the honor that he wished to bestow upon her, but that discretion compelled her not to accept his offer without first informing him of her past.

“You have not been told everything, sir,” said the charming young woman, “and I will not consent to be yours until you know the whole truth. I value your esteem too highly to risk losing it, and I surely would not merit it if I took advantage of your illusion by consenting to be your wife before having you judge whether I am worthy of that honor.”

Courval assured her that he knew everything, that the things that were causing her concern did not matter to him, and that though he would be glad to do as she wished, he did not wish her to suffer embarrassment. She insisted that she would not give her consent until he had been duly informed of everything that concerned him. He had to accept her proposal and to be satisfied with the promise that she would come to his estate near Nemours. He would have all the details of the wedding celebration arranged, so that they could be married the day after he had heard her story.

“But sir,” said the lovely young woman, “if there is a possibility that all these preparations will be futile, why make them? Suppose I convince you that I was not destined to be yours?”

“You’ll never be able to prove that to me. You can never convince me. I assure you. Good-by. Don’t try to change my plans.”

Nothing was to be gained by further resistance. Florville arrived at the estate alone, for she had insisted that the things that she had to say were to be revealed only to the man desirous of uniting with her in wedlock. No one else was admitted. The day after her arrival, having entreated Courval to hear her out, the beautiful and interesting young woman related the events of her life.

“Your opinion of me is based on false notions,” she began. “You have seen Saint-Prât, and he has verified what you have been told: that I belong to him. Yet you have been grossly deceived. I know nothing of my parents and have never had the satisfaction of knowing to whom I owe my birth. Shortly after I was born, I was found in a green taffeta cradle at the door of Saint-Prât’s residence. On an anonymous letter pinned to the cloth were written these simple words:

You have been married for ten years but have no children even though you long for them daily. Adopt this child. Her blood is pure. She is the fruit of a chaste marriage and not of debauchery. Her birth is honorable. If you do not like the little girl, you may take her to a foundling home. Make no inquiries, for you will learn nothing. It is impossible to provide you with further information.

“The good people with whom I had been placed received me without hesitation, brought me up, and cared for me in every way. I can truthfully say that I am indebted to them for everything. As they had no indication of my name, Saint-Prât’s wife chose to call me Florville.

“I had just reached the age of fifteen when I had the misfortune of seeing my protectress die. No words can express the grief that I felt over losing her. She had become so fond of me that on her deathbed she made Saint-Prat promise to provide me with an allowance of four thousand pounds and never to forsake me. Both stipulations were punctually executed, and Saint-Prât went a step farther and recognized me as his wife’s cousin. It was in this manner that he executed the contract that you have seen. Still, I couldn’t remain in his house. Saint-Prât made me aware of this fact.

“‘I’m a widower and still young,’ said the virtuous man. ‘To live under the same roof would give rise to doubts even though we are innocent. I’m concerned over your happiness and reputation and wish to compromise neither. We must part, Florville. But never in my life will I forsake you. I don’t even wish to have you leave the family. I have a widowed sister in Nancy. I’ll send you to her. I can vouch for her friendship and mine. There, always under my eyes, so to speak, I can continue to supervise everything relating to your education and place in the world.’

“I listened tearfully to his words. The added measure of grief renewed and made even more bitter the grief that I had felt at the death of my benefactress. Convinced by Saint-Prât’s sound logic, however, I decided to follow his advice and departed for Lorraine, under the supervision of a lady from that province. The lady to whom I had been entrusted placed me in the hands of Mme. Verquin, Saint-Prât’s sister, with whom I was to live.

“Mme. Verquin’s house was quite different from Saint-Prât’s. Decency, religion, and good morals were replaced by frivolity, the love of pleasure, and license.

“Mme. Verquin warned me from the outset that she did not like my prudery, that it was unthinkable that anyone from Paris could have such clumsy manners. She showered me with other advice just as ridiculous and warned me that if I intended to get along well with her, I would have to change my behavior. I was alarmed by my reception. I’m not trying to appear to be better than I am, but anything that deviates from good morals and religion has always been displeasing to me. I’ve always been opposed to anything that conflicts with virtue, and the awkward situations that I have become involved in involuntarily have caused me so much remorse that I would like to be removed from the world. I am not made to inhabit it. I am wild, ferocious; the darkest retreat is most appropriate to my spiritual and mental state.

“These ill-reflections, still not mature because of my tender age, did not protect me against the bad advice of Mme. Verquin or the evils into which her seductions were to cause me to fall. The constant stream of people that I saw, the noisy pleasures that surrounded me, the examples of others, lectures—everything dragged me along. I was assured that I was pretty, and fate decreed that I should dare to believe that I was.

“A regiment from Normandy was then garrisoned in Nancy. Mme. Verquin’s house was the meeting place of the officers. All the young women were there too, and it was there that the intrigues in the town were planned, broken, and reconstructed.

“In all probability Saint-Prât knew nothing about some of his sister’s doings. Considering the austerity of his morals, how could he possibly have consented to send me to her if he had known? This consideration held me back and prevented me from complaining to him. Must everything be told? Perhaps I didn’t even care. The impure air that I was breathing was beginning to besmirch my heart, and like Telemachus in Calypso’s island, perhaps I would no longer have listened to Mentor’s advice.

“The impudent woman had been trying to seduce me for a long time. One day she asked me if it was true that I had come to Lorraine with a pure heart, and if I didn’t regret some lover in Paris.

“‘Alas, madame,’ I said. ‘The idea of all the wrongs of which you suspect me has never even crossed my mind. Your brother will vouch for my conduct. …’

“‘Wrong,’ she interrupted me. ‘If there is anything wrong, it is that you are too naive for your age. But you’ll make up for that, I hope.’

“‘Oh, madame! Is that the language that I should hear from the lips of a respectable person like you?’

“‘Respectable? I assure you, my dear, that respect is the one sentiment that concerns me least. What I want to inspire in others is love. But I haven’t yet reached the age for respect. Follow my example, my child, and you’ll be happy. By the way, did you notice Senneval?’ asked the siren, calling my attention to a young officer, seventeen years old, who came there frequently.

“‘Not any more so than the others, madame,’ I answered. ‘I can assure you that I look upon them all with the same indifference.’

“‘But you mustn’t do that, my little friend. I want us to share our conquests from now on. You must have Senneval. He is my own creation, for I have taken pains in shaping him. He loves you. You must have him.’

“‘Oh! Please, madame, I care for no one.’

“‘You must. I have made arrangements with his colonel, my present lover, as you can see.’

“‘I beg you not to force me. I have no inclination toward the pleasures that you seek.’

“‘Oh! That will change. You will seek them one of these days just as I do. It is easy not to long for something as yet unknown, but there is no reason why you should refuse to become acquainted with something made to be adored. In a word, everything is already planned. Senneval will declare his passion for you this evening, and you will do well not to keep him waiting, unless you wish to make me angry. But seriously. … ’

“At five o’clock the group a...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• Table of Contents
• INTRODUCTION
• FLORVILLE AND COURVAL or FATE
• JULIETTE AND RAUNAI
• MISS HENRIETTE STRALSON or THE EFFECTS OF DESPAIR
• Notes
• Copyright Page