Letters From Prison (6 page)

For the better part of the next four years Sade remained in and around La Coste, with occasional discreet forays to other French cities, as well as venturing abroad on another extended trip to Italy. Early in 1774, Madame de Montreuil made an abortive effort to have Sade arrested at La Coste, but the marquis had his loyal local informants, who forewarned him in time to go into hiding until the arrest party had given up and departed. Though master of his domain, Sade was still very much a fugitive. He and his wife made efforts to have the Marseilles sentence quashed, and to that end she made several trips to Paris, though with scant success. Sade’s name was too hot, and the Montreuil influence and money too powerful, for any minister or magistrate to rule in his favor. In fact, after the death of Louis XV on May 10, 1774, one of the présidente’s first acts was to request that the
lettre de cachet
issued by the late king, which was no longer valid, be reinstated by the new regime. In the fall of that year a new
lettre de cachet,
ordering Sade’s arrest and incarceration in the prison of Pierre-Encize, was duly issued by the court of Louis XVI.

Despite that, it is possible—not probable but possible—that if Sade had behaved reasonably at this point in his life—and each would have to define for him - or herself the precise meaning of that term— further prison might never have been his lot. The présidente’s secret attempt to have him arrested in January had cost her a small fortune— over eight thousand livres—and she may not have been of a mind to mount another such expensive expedition in the near future. Still, feeling himself constantly menaced in France, Sade decided in March to emigrate to Italy, leaving Renée-Pélagie behind to handle his affairs and pursue his legal appeals. After several months there, however, plagued by a shortage of money and bored for lack of language and “activity,” he returned to France in late September, meeting his wife in Lyons. There he—or perhaps they together—sowed the seeds of the fourth scandal, which would irrevocably seal both their fates. In that city and despite their groaning finances, the Sades engaged several servant girls, plus a young male secretary for the marquis, for their needs at La Coste. One of the girls, Anne Sablonnière, also known as Nanon, was twenty-four; the others were probably no more than fifteen or sixteen. Given their age, her husband’s known predilections, and the fact that she had just pawned the family silver to raise money, one has to wonder why Renée-Pélagie ever allowed herself to be involved in their hire, for she had to know that nothing but trouble lay ahead. All we can assume is that by now, stripped of any illusions about her husband she might ever have harbored, she had become his full and willing accomplice.

Precisely what went on at La Coste during the winter months of 1774-1775 is not known, for little evidence remains. Much of what we know stems from Sade’s “Grand Letter” to his wife, but since this letter is largely self-justification, it can hardly pass for fact. In it Sade does maintain, and is probably right, that Nanon was a well-known procuress in Lyons, and that since the other servants were in turn either hired or approved by her, they all had to be aware of what they were getting into. In other words, despite their tender age he looked upon all six as prostitutes and felt he could treat them as such. We do know that during that several-week period in December and January Sade and his little menagerie rarely left the chateau. Darkness fell early, and few if any locals were invited inside, probably to keep prying eyes and wagging tongues distanced. In a letter to his attorney Gaufridy, in the late fall of 1774, inviting him to dinner—which was to take place at three o’clock sharp—Sade painted a saintly picture of himself, totally immersed in his work, which consisted of research and writing, and of domestic tranquillity on the part of Madame de Sade and her staff. In all likelihood, however, Sade was really spending the greater part of his time in those dark months indulging in two of his favorite pastimes: the theater and erotic play. His libertinage far from stilled, his status as fugitive very much in his mind, he literally closed the chateau doors to the outside world and created within the close confines of La Coste his own fantasy drama, with himself as director and leading man. In all probability, Renéee-Pélagie was also involved, but in what role and to what extent it is hard to say. She had been married to the man for more than eleven years now and knew him as no other did: his insatiable appetites, his uncontrollable willfulness, his obsessions, his profligacy (demonstrated anew by his hiring so many servants without any notion how they would be paid), his arrogance, his pride, his egocentricity, his seductive charm, his tireless energy. However much he tried her patience, however much he abused her, betrayed her, took advantage of her, she loved him unconditionally. If her role was to be long-suffering, so be it. If it was to pick up the pieces after him, she would stoop to that, too. If his heedless propensity for getting into trouble led him to the precipice, she would pull him back. At least, she must have thought as winter closed in around La Coste, no matter what he dreams up as fantasy entertainment, he is here with me, I know the cast of characters we are involved with, which is better than not knowing where he is or what new mischief he is up to.

That cast included, in addition to the new hires from Lyons, a couple of servants already in place: Sade’s valet Carteron, also known as La Jeunesse, and his mistress, a Swiss chambermaid, Gothon Duffé, whom Sade describes in one of his letters from prison as being possessed of “the most beautiful a------that ever managed to escape from the mountains of Switzerland in over a century.” Rounding out the troupe were a Mademoiselle Du Plan, a former ballet dancer from Marseilles, who bore the title of governess (though there were no children to govern, unless one includes the new teenage recruits); a young lady from Montpellier named Rosette; and Nanon’s niece. Plus a number of cooks and scullery maids who had not necessarily been chosen for their culinary talents. A considerable and varied cast, and it is natural to conclude, both by imagining and from the known repercussions, that Sade put virtually everyone to good exotic use, their exact roles in the winter orgies depending less on their age or experience than on their presumed position. There is no doubt the five Lyons girls were flagellated, as there is clear evidence they were not returned to their parents until their wounds had healed. For those horrified by such an admission, it must be noted that in those days flagellation— often referred to as “the English vice”—was fairly common practice among libertines, as police reports attest. But Sade, like most of his peers, did not employ that erotic stimulus indiscriminately. As far as we know, Sade never subjected his wife or any of his mistresses to any form of flagellation. That rite was reserved for whores, with whom anything went. If one was paying, one could choose whatever one wished, and if the poor girl complained to the authorities, the examining magistrate would ask her if she had received money; if her answer was yes, she was sent packing. And in Sade’s view, since he had hired the Lyons servants through a “well-known procuress” there, they were fair, unrestricted game, no matter their age. Nonetheless, once again Sade’s rampant sexuality and provocative personality was dragging him ineluctably into the snares of the law.

However restricted the La Coste château, too many people were involved in Sade’s theatrical shenanigans—probably as many as twenty— for word not to leak out. Several of the underage servant girls somehow managed to contact their parents in Lyons, who immediately filed charges of kidnapping and seduction. With Gothon in tow, the ever-faithful Renée-Pélagie set off for Lyons to placate the parents, assuring them their girls (and boy) were fine and would soon be home. Meanwhile, three were sequestered in various nearby nunneries, one was kept under close watch at La Coste, while the last, judged the most dangerous by the looseness of her tongue and the seriousness of her wounds, was dispatched to Saumane, where the Abbe de Sade was asked to look out for her—and make sure she didn’t escape. Even the jaded abbe was shocked by what his new charge revealed to him, and went on record as not wanting ever to have any dealings with either the marquis or his wife again. Strong words, coming from an old debaucher such as he. Given the abbe’s position, it is almost shocking to find that about now, apprised of the gravity of the affair, the présidente waded in and again took charge, issuing orders, generally through Gaufridy, on how to deal with the girls until they were better, how and when to return them to their homes, what to do to obtain written releases, etc. Did this mean Madame de Montreuil had reversed herself, that she was forgiving her son-in-law of this latest aberration? Hardly. All she was doing was, once more, trying to keep a lid on the explosive situation, to save the already badly tarnished family escutcheon. On her basic position of having Sade arrested and put away she was as adamant as ever.

But there were just too many pots boiling in the
vallis clausa
for the présidente to tend them all. During those lurid winter weeks, someone—La Jeunesse? one of the other revelers? Sade himself?— had managed to impregnate Nanon, who gave birth to a baby girl, Anne Elizabeth, on May 11, 1775, but “the paternity was attributed to Nanon’s husband, Barthélmy Fayère,” and scandal was thereby if not scotched at least muffled.

Moreover, Nanon had too dubious a background herself to do the Sades much harm, or so they thought. But on June 10, 1775, Nanon and the marquise had a violent argument at the chateau, after which Nanon fled, screaming at the marquise and “showering her with a million imprecations.” What was the argument about? It may have had to do with the paternity of her month-old baby; it may have been about money (for Madame de Sade had none with which to pay her); it may have had to do with the young charges she had brought with her for whom she felt (a little late in the day) responsible. Whatever it was, Nanon took refuge in a nearby convent, where she confessed to the prior, Alexandre de Nerclos, all that had been going on at her former place of employ, and since she had often not only played an active role but been the
plat de resistance
at the chateau revels, she doubtless had a great deal to tell. After hearing her out, the prior wrote immediately to his colleague the Abbe de Sade that his nephew would doubtless “have to be shut up for the rest of his life,” adding that he was convinced “Madame de Sade was no better than her husband.” Was his opinion based on Nanon’s recounting of mad sexual exploits in the dark dungeons of La Coste? No, his complaint was based on the fact that “nobody in that house went to confession on Easter and Lady de Sade allows her young manservants to have dealings with a
Lutheran
woman”!
¹²
Madame de Montreuil pulled some royal strings, managed to have a
lettre de cachet
issued against Nanon, and paid money to have her locked up. But what she was giving with the one hand she was taking away with the other. As noted, with Louis XV’s death in May 1774, the
lettre de cachet
concerning Sade’s arrest was no longer valid and, legally speaking, he was once again a free man. That also meant his civil rights had been restored, and, theoretically at least, he could regain control of his income and business affairs, now in the hands of the présidente. But Madame de Montreuil was just as aware of this potential development as Sade was and, as we have seen, lost no time in obtaining another royal warrant from the new regime through her friend in court, the duc de la Vrillière.

Had Sade learned anything from the “Young Girls” scandal? Apparently not, for less than a year later he hired another group of young servants, this time from Montpellier and through the good offices of a monk, a Father Durand. The night of their arrival to take up their jobs, they were so upset by the marquis’s advances that three of the four left the very next morning. News of the incident reached the father of another girl from Montpellier who had been working as cook at the chateau since November, Catherine Treillet, affectionately known there as Justine. Fearful for her safety, Treillet, a weaver by trade, set out to fetch her. He arrived at the chateau and demanded to see his daughter, whom Sade promptly produced. After heated words on both sides, Sade escorted the man toward the main gate, at which point Treillet suddenly turned and fired a pistol point-blank at the marquis’s chest. Fortunately (for the marquis), only the primer went off, after which the man turned and fled. Later he returned and fired a second shot into the chateau courtyard, in the direction of where he thought he heard Sade’s voice. Next day the local La Coste judge began hearing witnesses regarding the incident, for the charges were bearing arms illegally and attempted murder. (Commoners in those days were not allowed to bear arms, much less fire them at aristocrats.) Meanwhile Treillet journeyed to Aix where he lodged a complaint against Sade, demanding his daughter back. She in turn signed a document (doubtless drawn up by Sade) saying she was perfectly happy in her work and had no cause for complaint. With all the mounting evidence of former servants telling juicy tales out of school, and the danger that Nanon— who was still in jail under royal warrant—would be released or escape, the only recourse was to send “Justine” back to her father. But when Sade informed Catherine that he was sending her back to Montpellier, Catherine, who like so many others before her seems to have been seduced by the charms of this Provençal Casanova, begged him to let her stay, and he (quickly) relented.

As January faded into February, both the marquis and marquise decided it was time to leave La Coste behind and go to Paris—for two reasons. First, they had received alarming news from Madame de Montreuil that Sade’s mother, the dowager Countess de Sade, was failing (in fact, she had died on January 14 and been buried three days later, but word of this had not yet reached them); second, it was only in Paris that they could approach the courts directly and move heaven and earth to get Sade’s sentence quashed. All his friends advised him against going. Did he forget, after all, that he was still a fugitive, that a new royal warrant had been issued demanding his immediate imprisonment, that he still had a sentence of death hanging over his head from the Marseilles affair? Since the news about his mother had come from the présidente, did he not suspect a trap? His steward Reinaud, Gaufridy, even Gothon warned him against the trip. But he would hear none of it. Once Sade made up his mind to do something, nothing on the face of the earth could deter him.