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Marquis De Sade - His Life and Works - BLOCH
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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I enjoyed this probably far more than I should have. Written by one of the first Psychoanalysts/Sexologists, Iwan Bloch, it's a tour-de-force that puts de Sade in context with his era and compatriots.
The chapter list alone is worth the price of admission, with such chapters as "Flagellation and Phlebotomy - Whips and Passion" and "Poisoning - Wholesale Poisonings" and "Conditions in Italy - Debauchery in Italy, Sexual Orgies in Naples." this book alone is far more entertaining than anything de Sade ever wrote. Not that de Sade was bad (he was, but compared to his peers...), more so in that it provides both context and historical perspective on the events he depicts.
Notes on what I found worthwhile - well, that's several pages, buy the book, but - a short list:
Pornography of every description sold at the Palais Royal - that everything de Sade wrote about, the most despicable things, were already well established in practice and written up about and sold in leaflets at the Palais Royal.
A list of books of note - as identified by De Sade or Bloch, a reading list that extends beyond my probably lifetime, but I'll be online looking, rest assured...
The mentions and correlations with Chardelos de Laclos & Casanova (for example, when Casanova did his brothel/bordello tours in Italy he was escorted by the Clergy, those Bishops and Priests being connoisseurs in such departments).
Mentions and correlations with Chardelos de Laclos & Casanova, as well Potocki (Manuscript found at Saragossa, see film).
“Pastilles a la Richelieu” (aphrodisiacs), leading on to what is referred to (and you have to laugh!) "The BonBon Cantharidic Orgy"
Or the description of a certain artist using a prostitute of “rare beauty” to model the Virgin Mary - an Englishman, upon entering the church and seeing the statue stated - “Oh, it’s the virgin who gave me a dose!”
Or, entering upon the Marquis De Sade’s life (the first 2/3's of the book deal almost exclusively with his life and times), the Marvellous Salve that first landed him in prison, an experiment lacerating an unwilling captive prostitute to test the efficiency of said healing salve - and his believing he would be excused - after all, what was a prostitute next to the greater good of humanity? This, along with his other over-reported but nonetheless diabolical escapades, well -
Than there's the real-life corollaries, the people that "inspired", if that is the right word, de Sade - the list of Dukes, Kings, Counts and Courtesans and the inventory of their pleasures.
Oh, and there's this:
Paris, August 2, 1808.
The Chief Doctor of the Hospital at Charenton to his Excellency, the Senator and Police Minister:
Sir:
I have the honor to appeal to your authority far assistance in an affair that threatens the entire order in my home.
We have here a man whose bold immorality has made him only too well known and whose mere presence effects the greatest evils. I speak of the author of that shameful novel Justine. This man it not mentally ill. His one delirium is that of vice—and this cannot be aided in an insane asylum. He has to be placed in the severest isolation to protect others from his outbreaks and to separate him from all circumstances that might increase his horrible passion. Our place as Charenton does not fulfill any of these conditions. De Sade enjoys too great freedom here. He can have intercourse with a great number of patients and convalescents either in his or their rooms. He has the right to walk in the park and often meets patients there. He preaches to them his criminal theories and lends them books. Finally we received a report that he is living with a woman whom he claimed was his daughter.
That is not all. They were so improvident at the asylum that they had a theatre erected for the performance of comedies and did not think at the harmful effects of such a tumultuous proceeding upon the mind. De Sade is the director of this theatre. He presents the plays, hands out the rôles and directs them. He is also the asylum poet. For example, at the dinners of the director he writes an allegorical piece in his honor or at least some couplets in his praise. I ask your excellency to remedy such a horrible condition. How can such things be in an insane asylum? Such crimes and immorality! Will not the patients who daily meet this man be also infected by his corruption and does not the mere thought of his presence in this house awaken the fantasy of those who do not see him?
I sincerely hope that your excellency will find these reasons imperative enough to find another resort than Charenton for de Sade. An order for him not to associate with the patients will not be sufficient as it will be only a temporary aid. I do not ask for him to be sent back to Bicêtre but I believe that a strong castle would he better fitted for him than an asylum with its many opportunities for the satisfaction of his degenerate desires.
Royer Collard, MD
I could go on - the book is filled with such anecdotes. But I don't intend to cheat you of the pleasure of reading it yourself.
You can read the entirety of it online here: https://survivorbb.rapeutation.com/viewtopic.php?f=23&t=222&sid=5b4e0b2d3fbdedef6aeafe2aceea5c9a or simply break down and find a copy online. If the 18th Century is your thing you'll find it money well spent.
And about the Author: Iwan Bloch
The rain, the rain...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
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Grey clouds lowering on the mountains, rain, rain, dismal leaves crushed under foot, the blackened silhouettes etched onto the sidewalk, and the rain, non-stop, snow visible but not into the valleys yet.
Yesterday, at Save-On foods, a case of Hari-Kari, someone, an unidentified male, used their washroom, came out with his neck sliced open, a proper bloodbath, no updates, only severely injured, self-inflicted, witnesses are recommended counselling, this weather, government, age, it would do it. I'm curious as to who it is, was, someone no doubt on the peripheries of acquaintance, everyone here is.
Rain, rain, and when I let myself indoors it continues, the pitter-pat of my nose dripping everywhere, a terminal cold, I've become an extension of the clouds that cold-sweat buckets on the street, forever a Kleenex, tissue, scrap of toilet paper or napkin wiping my nose, drip, drip, drip...
Yesterday morning, a train derailment, blocking all access to the mall. I had no need to go, just news.
And today, setting about on my second round of errands and the power goes out. All over town, 45 minutes, then it's back up.
The news, I've gotten quicker, I just get the gist, we're in trouble, everyone, global stability, it's all done, the end game is being played out. The appointments, cronies and kleptocrats, experts in nothing but their own self-enrichment, whenever things can't get any worse they invariably do, I'm dropping the news by and largely from my list of things to do, catch-up upon, there's no good news at the moment, only bad news and irrelevant news, and - worst of all, with the right leader (not Poilievre, not Trudeau) we could be not only prospering but flourishing, per capita we're the richest country on earth second only to Australia, we only need clear vision, governance, leadership, a plan...
Stop importing minimum wage-paid slaves, cheap foreign labour, instead import experts, engineers, begin the industries wherein we can become self-sufficient, produce our own consumer goods, recycle, innovate, to hell with all the lowly service jobs lets get started on the ownership and fair distribution of our own resources, we could, should be a model to other countries...
Instead, well, instead, the news down south is as terrifying to us as it is to them.
Painting, the acquisition of supplies...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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The end of the world, delivered to your door in a cardboard box, courtesy of Amazon.
Not that I'd in any way support them, but having a list of supplies I needed before I could get underway on some bigger painting projects, and having had no luck sourcing them in town, I turned to Amazon. .Com as I'd forgotten my .Ca password.
And - my god, if they didn't deliver everything I ordered in 2 days. From the US, to my door.
To compare, all the books I've been reading, most of which didn't arrive for 2 weeks, some as many as 5, well, - Amazon - all things aside - and they shouldn't be put aside, enough with the billionaires already, off with their heads, but bloody hell are they efficient.
So, supplies garnered, to Dollarama to buy up a big stock of cheap disposable paints - I have some ideas, that before I waste quality paint and canvas on I want to first experiment with cheaper mediums. Before committing to the big guns, maybe a hundred dollars to figure out what I'm doing will save (the theory goes, at least) a few hundred dollars in painful mistakes.
I'm counting on this to buy my jeep for next spring, on Facebook Marketplace I've seen a few for sale, of interest, on old Mercedes (SUV Jeep Style) that'd be perfect, only I'm about 30K short. The helicopter, well, that sold pretty quick but who knows, maybe by spring there will be another?
The living room fills with garbage and it's time now - today, after my volunteer shift, to start mixing up colours and begin the experiments.
Outside, the last of the fall colours peeling from the trees, the fog hangs lowering on the mountains, grey and rain, giant ravens circle the parking lot, no reason now not to get this underway...
The Ghost-Seer - Friedrich Schiller
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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This was a little curiosity, 18th century incomplete novel that takes the case of a Prince, who is witness to some Necromancy and Divination which he is at first at a loss to explain, then, when he is undeceived, goes down a rabbit hole that leads in the end to his being taken back to the faith by an enigmatic "Albanian".
More a little store of undeveloped ideas, not in any way great, merely curious, a peculiar half-developed tale sprung no doubt from indigestion, like a bad dream...
Link: Wiki on The Ghost-Seer
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