Sex in the Cities. Volume 1. Amsterdam. Hans-Jürgen Döpp
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Название: Sex in the Cities. Volume 1. Amsterdam

Автор: Hans-Jürgen Döpp

Издательство: Confidential Concepts, Inc.

Жанр: Иностранные языки

Серия: Sex in the Cities

isbn: 978-1-78525-913-5, 978-1-78042-006-6

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ would you rather, Madame?” he concluded. “I too was plagued by the demon of the flesh, but I was cured by this book – cured of all those unnatural urges which dragged your husband down even deeper. I don’t mean to say that I have become an ascetic, but I am not one of those obscene Epicureans who turn sexual pleasure into a cesspit. I was brought to my senses by revulsion at it: he was attracted by it. Who is to blame for that?”

      My love for my husband was unbounded. The type of death I chose for myself was to be the same as his, and thus much more painful than sati [the practice of a widow immolating herself on her husband’s funeral pyre]. I wanted to study animal lust in theory in order then to experience it in practice.

      My husband had given me a few books with an appropriate content, namely The Memoirs of Fanny Hill, Petites Fredaines, The Story of Dom Bougres, the Cabinet d’Amour et de Venus, Les Bijoux Indiscrets, Pucelle by Voltaire, and the Adventures of a Cauchoise.

      Some of these he had read to me, with the idea that it would get us both in the mood for pleasure. He was not unsuccessful in this, for he found me ready and willing for all kinds of delightful activities we enjoyed with one another.

      Only the book by Sade he kept back because he thought it too dangerous for me – and only after his death did I find it carefully hidden in a closet with a false bottom.

* * *

      Arpad confessed to me that he had bought the book – the Peculiarities of Mr H. – in a Frankfurt bookstore specialising in old books. It gave him theoretical experience of the pleasures of love.

      He added that he was very lucky I had come to Hungary because he had considered ejaculating into a whore several times, but had been deterred by his fear of infection.

      One of his friends he knew to have caught a shameful disease in a house where the most unclean sacrifices are made to the goddess Venus, and then to have been unable to rid himself of the disease.

      Rojan, illustration for Vers libres, (Free Verses), by Radiguet, 1936.

      Felicien Rops, illustration for Le Doigt dedans, (The Finger Inside), by Theodore Hannon, c. 1850.

      William Lockeridge, Woman on a Swing, 1993. Terracotta.

      The Candle, late 19th century. Watercolour from an English sketchbook.

      Marquis de Sade: Imagination Triumphs over Reason

      The epicentre of the earthquake that is sexual desire bubbling away within mankind is located in the head.

      “‘The thoughts you inspire in me, Juliette,’ said Belmor to me one day, ‘are what I find tantalising about you. No one could have a more lascivious… richer… more liberal [imagination] than yours. And you must have noticed that my most pleasurable alliances with you are those that develop when our imagination runs away with us and leads us on to innovatively sensual ideas that, alas, are impossible to realise or fulfil.’”

      It is rare that purely imaginary scenes unfold in erotic literature, which is not always a creative genre. It is even rarer for imagination itself to be the object of reflection. The imagination is nonetheless the source of desire and of enjoyment for the Marquis de Sade, whose works are intended mainly to enlighten. To Sade, intellectual thought neutralises sensuality. The limitations of reality may be cast off by means of the sheer scope of the imagination, which grants potential existence to notions that far surpass reality. A passionate frenzy for release from the constraints of reality takes hold of the conscious mind. (During the French Revolution it actually burst through into reality as well.)

      The works of Sade – whose concept of reality was physically limited for many years by the walls of a prison – should be read as the extreme expressions of a completely liberated imagination, as a dream of freedom for a prisoner, and not as the notional diary of a sadist. Isn’t it perhaps exactly this conscious distancing of self from reality that makes it possible for erotic imagination to develop fantasies of megalomaniac proportions?

      “Oh Juliette, how exquisite are the joys of the mind!” says Lamettrie. “Should we not embark on all the roads to sensual pleasure lit up by its fireworks?… During such exquisite moments the entire world is ours – there is nothing that can deny us. Everything holds out joy to the heightened senses our fervid imaginations have prepared to receive it. We can lay waste to the earth… we can repopulate it with new creatures – which we can then kill again if we feel like it.”

      What a combination of notions of dominance, self-importance, and destructiveness!

      “Happy, a hundred times happy,” goes on Lamettrie, “are those whose lively, sensual imagination always keeps available to the senses a foretaste of the joys to come. In truth, Juliette, I wouldn’t like to say whether reality is equal to the imaginary – whether indulging in pleasures one does not actually possess is not a hundred times more enervating than indulging in those one really can possess.”

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