Juliette

by Marquis de Sade

After letting loose a burst of ungovernable laughter, “Bishop of Rome!” I cried, “enough of this insolent haughtiness, desist, I say, you are speaking to a woman who is philosopher enough to appreciate you; with your leave we shall look a little into your power and your pretensions.

  “In Galilee, Braschi, there develops a religion, its bases are these: poverty, equality, and hatred of the rich. The principles of this sacred doctrine are that it is just as impossible for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven as for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle; that the rich man is damned simply because he is rich. To the disciples of this cult it is forbidden ever to lay up provision, they are commanded to forsake all that they have. Jesus, their chief, is emphatic and clear: ‘The Son of God came not to be ministered unto, but to minister…. They that are first shall be last…. Whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbles himself shall be exalted.’21 The first apostles of this religion earned their living by the sweat of their brow. Is all this not true, Braschi?”

  “It is indeed true.”

  “Well then, I would now have you tell me what relation there can be between these primitive institutions and the tremendous wealth you accumulate here in Italy. Is it the Evangile or the knavery of your predecessors that has put you in possession of these boundless riches? Poor fellow! and do you fancy you can still impose upon us?”

  “Atheist, at least show respect for the descendant of Saint Peter.”

  “You descend from nothing of the sort: Saint Peter never set foot in Rome. At its beginnings and for many years to come the Church had no bishops, only acquired them when, toward the end of the second century of our era, it came somewhat to be known and to take on a little consistency; how dare you maintain Peter was in Rome when he himself wrote from Babylon?”22

  “Do you think to confound criticism by saying that Rome and Babylon were the same thing? Pouah, nobody believes anything you say anymore. But was Peter even your type of man? Is not your predecessor depicted to us as a penniless ragged fellow who catechized the penniless and ragged? It would much appear that he resembled one of those founders of orders that live in indigence and whose successors swim in gold. I know that those who followed Peter sometimes gained money, sometimes lost it; but it is nonetheless true that superstition and credulity are yet so widespread that you still have some thirty or forty million servants on earth. But do you suppose the lamp of philosophy is not soon to shine before their eyes? Do you suppose they shall for very long go on accepting a master who dwells three or four hundred leagues away? That they shall for much longer be willing to think, judge, act only according to your dictates? Hold title to their properties only upon condition they pay you tribute, enter into no marriage save it be with your approval? No, my friend, you miscalculate if you count upon them remaining still a long while in bondage and error. I know that in times past your ridiculous rights went a great deal farther than now they do; you used to sit above the very gods, for those gods were only thought to dispose of empires while ’twas you who disposed of them. But I repeat it to you, Braschi, all that is being eclipsed, it is passing away; and in fact, my dear Pope, is it not staggering to see to what point superstition can denature the simplest things? Agree with me, that one is hard put to know which one ought most to admire, the prodigious blindness of whole peoples, or the gigantic effrontery of those who dupe them. How is it possible, after the appalling irregularities in which you and your like have been wallowing for centuries with the entire world looking on, that you can still be revered as you are? How is it possible that you still keep a few proselytes? ’Twas only the stupidity of princes and of populations that consolidated the grandeur of the popes and gave them the inconceivable audacity to arrogate to themselves pretensions so contrary to the spirit of their religion, so revolting to reason, and so harmful to polities. Those who are aware of the grip superstition exerts must still be amazed at its perennial successes; for there is not a single blunder, not a single extravagance to which the devout are not prone. Certain political interests conspired to aid the growth of superstition’s child. During the years of the Roman Empire’s decline, its chiefs, occupied in costly and very remote wars, were constrained to deal tactfully with you, knowing you to be in possession of the minds of the people; shutting their eyes to your enterprises they unwittingly promoted the destruction of their empire; through ignorance, the barbarian hordes adopted the political system of the emperors, and that is how, little by little, you became the masters of a fair part of the European peoples.

  “The sciences were entrusted into the hands of the monks, your worthy liegemen; no one was permitted to shed light on the universe, men were in bondage to what they did not understand, and the warriors who fought around the world found it easier to bend you a worshipful knee than to analyze you. The fifteenth century brought a shift in the wind, the dawning of philosophy heralded superstition’s downfall; clouds lifted and men dared look you in the face. In you and yours they soon came to see nothing but impostors and frauds; a few nations still subjugated by their priests remained faithful to you; but the light of reason’s torch shines at last for them as well. Oh, my good, my blessed Pope! your role is ended. To hasten the important revolution which must bring down forever the pillars of your superstitious establishment one need only cast a glance at the history of your antecedents in the See. I shall outline it for you, Braschi, from my erudition it will be shown that since the women of my country are instructed to this degree, the France I am proud of shall not be long shaking off your ridiculous yoke.

  “What do I behold at the beginning of your Christian era? Battles, strife, tumults, seditions, massacres, the fruit solely of the greed and the ambition of the rogues who pretended to your throne; the proud pontiffs of your disgusting Church were already going in triumphal cars through Rome; lust and lewdness were already defiling them; the purple enwrapped them already; and ’tis not your enemies I consult for evidence of the reproaches addressed to you in those days, no, I refer to your partisans, to the very Fathers of the Church; listen to Jerome, to Basil: ‘When I was in Rome,’ says the former, ‘I sought to make the language of piety and virtue heard; the Pharisees surrounding the Pope jeered and tormented me; and I quit the palaces of Rome to return to the grottoes of Jesus.’ Thus did your satellites, driven to it by the force of truth, level the accusing finger at you even at this early hour. With what vehemence the same Jerome elsewhere rebukes you for the scandals occasioned by your debauches, your dishonesties, your intrigues to milk money from the rich, to have yourselves named the heirs of the mighty and above all of the Roman ladies you first tupped and then dunned. Shall I send you to read the emperors’ edicts? See therein the efforts Valentinian, Valens, and Gratian deployed to repress your greed, your libertinage, your overweening ambition. But let us go on with our sketch and paint in broad strokes. Do you fancy, Braschi, do you believe that one can have anything but doubts of your holiness, of your infallibility, when one observes:

  “A Liberius, out of fear and weakness dragging the entire Church into Arianism?

  “A Gregory, proscribing the arts and sciences, and giving as reason for this that ignorance alone can favor the absurdities of his loathsome religion—a Gregory who dares carry impudence so far as to flatter Queen Brunhilde, that monster whom France remembers with shame to this day?

  “A Stephen VI regarding Formosus, his predecessor, as so defiled by crimes that he feels under the ridiculous and barbaric obligation of punishing the dead pope’s corpse?

  “A Sergius, soiled by all sorts of debauchery, whores always leading him around by the nose?

  “A John XI, son of one of those sluts, and who himself lived in regular incest with Marosia, his mother?

  “A John XII, the idolatrous magician who employed the very temple of God as the theater for his most shameful debauches?

  “A Boniface VII, so eager for the papal tiara that he murders Benedict VI in order to succeed him?23

  “A Gregory VII, who
, more despotic than any king, made them all come begging pardon at his door; who caused seas of blood to be shed in Germany, uniquely for the sake of his pride and ambition; who maintained that a pope could do no wrong; that all popes were infallible; that to be seated in Saint Peter’s chair sufficed to render a man as powerful as Almighty God?

  “A Pascal II, who, in observance of these abominable principles, dares arm an emperor against his own father?

  “An Alexander III, who has Henry II of England ignominiously flogged for a murder that prince never committed; who promulgates the bloody crusade against the Albigensians?

  “A Celestine III, who, overflowing ambition and tyranny, dares use his foot to push the crown upon the head of Henry IV, prostrate before him; and then kicks that crown off again, to show the Emperor what is in store for him should he be lacking in respect for the Pope?

  “An Innocent IV, poisoner of Emperor Frederick during the interminable wars between Guelphs and Ghibellines, for which your pride and your passions were responsible and which brought about the demoralization of all Italy?

  “A Clement IV, who has a young prince decapitated for having done nothing worse than present a claim to the succession of his fathers?

  “A Boniface VIII, famous for his quarrels with the kings of France; impious, ambitious, the author of that sacred farce known under the name of Jubilee, the single purpose whereof is to fill the pontifical coffers?24

  “A Clement V, enough of a scoundrel to have slain Emperor Henry VI by means of a poisoned host?

  “A Benedict XII, who buys celebrated Petrarch’s sister to make her his mistress?

  “A John XXIII [sic], notorious for his extravagances; who condemns as heretics all who maintain that Jesus Christ lived in simple poverty, who distributed crowns, who changed just into unjust, and whose madness led him to the point of excommunicating angels?

  “A Sixtus IV, who drew a considerable revenue from the brothels he had installed in Rome, who sent the Swiss a crimson flag, and with it the invitation to cut one another’s throats for the prosperity of the Roman Church?

  “An Alexander VI, the mere mention of whose name is enough to excite the indignation and horror of those who have some idea of his story; an enormous scoundrel, without probity, or honor, or sincerity, or pity, or religion, whose lewd debauchery, cruelties, poisonings surpassed everything Suetonius reports of Tiberius, Nero, and Caligula; in fine, a libertine who lay with his own daughter Lucrezia,25 who was wont to have fifty naked whores run about on all fours, in order to fire his imagination from the various postures they assumed?

  “A Leo X, who to repair the depredations of his predecessors, invented the scheme of selling indulgences, though such an unbeliever that in reply to his friend Cardinal Bembo, who quoted him a passage out of Scripture, he could say: ‘What the devil are you up to, coming to me with your Jesus Christ fables?’

  “A Julius III, that true Sardanapalus, who carried impudence to the point of raising his catamite to be a cardinal; who one day, nude in his chamber, obliged the members of the College who entered there to remove their clothes too, saying, ‘My friends, if we were to go about thus in the streets of Rome, we would be not so much revered. Now if our raiments alone inspire respect, are we really nothing at all without them?’

  “A Pius V, adored for a saint, fanatical, tigerish, who was the cause of all the persecutions exercised against the Protestants in France; instigator of the Duke of Alba’s ferocities; murderer of Paleario whose only crime was having said that the Inquisition had a dagger for stabbing men of letters; and who finally declared that he had never been in so little hope of salvation as since he became Pope?

  “A Gregory XIII, frightful panegyrist of the St. Bartholomew massacre and who privately addressed letters of congratulation to Charles IX for having himself participated in the slaughter?

  “A Sixtus V, who declared that in Rome one could bugger and be buggered as much as he liked during the hottest part of summer, and whose method for establishing order and calm in that city was to bathe it in blood?

  “A Clement VIII, author of the famous Gunpowder Plot?

  “A Paul V, who waged war against Venice because a civil magistrate had presumed to punish a monk for having raped and killed a twelve-year-old girl?

  “A Gregory XV, writing to Louis XIII: ‘Put them all to fire and sword who abide not by me’?

  “An Urban VIII, who cooperated in those Irish massacres where one hundred and fifty thousand Protestants died, etc., etc.?

  “There they are, my friend, such are they who were the Vicar of Christ before you. And you are amazed, you are vexed, you are downcast and confounded that we hold in just horror the insolent or corrupt leaders of such a sect? Ah! may all nations be quick to rid themselves of their illusions regarding these papal idols who until now have procured them nought but trouble, indigence, and woe! Let all the peoples of the earth, shuddering at the terrible havoc wrought for so many centuries by this long line of rascals, hasten to dethrone him who is Pope today and at the same time put an end to the stupid and barbarous, the idolatrous, sanguinary, impious, infamous religion capable of having such monsters at its head.”

  Pius VI, who to all this had lent a very attentive ear, sat gazing in astonishment at me when I reached the end of my speech.

  “Braschi,” said I, “thou art surprised at my wit and learning; know that it is thus all the children in my country are nowadays brought up: the age of error is past. Act accordingly, old despot, break thy cross, burn thy hosts, fling thy gauds and thy images and thy relics on the dungheap: after having freed populations from the oath of fealty that bound them to sovereigns, free them now from error’s dungeons where thou holdest them prisoner. Believe me, get thee down off thy throne ere thou art submerged beneath its wreckage; better to cede thy place pacifically than to be evicted from it by force. Opinion rules everything in the world; it is changing toward thee and all thy mummeries. Vary in tune with the times. When the scythe is uplifted, wiser to step aside than await the blade. Thou art not poor; retire, become a simple citizen in Rome again. Change the funeral livery of all this frocked crowd hanging about thee, dismiss thy friars, open thy cloisters, liberate thy nuns, let them marry, drown not the seed of one hundred generations in the barren ocean of chastity. Awestruck Europe shall admire thee, thy name shall be writ big on the columns of memory, never shall it be recorded there save thou exchangest the melancholy honor of being pope for that, far more precious, of being a philosopher.”

  “Juliette,” Braschi said, “they did indeed tell me you were a clever girl, but you outdo all reports; such loftiness of ideas is extremely rare in a woman. It is not with you feigning is best, I drop the mask; behold the man, behold him who is set on enjoying you and who shall not higgle over the price.”

  “Listen to me,” I replied, “it is not to play the vestal I have come here, and since I let myself be enticed into the most mysterious recesses of your palace you must surely be aware I have no intention of resisting you; but instead of getting a congenial partner, an ardent woman, someone of flesh and bone, with an intuition into your tastes, a fondness for them, you’ll have nought but a stone statue unless you grant me four things, and they are these:

  “To begin with I demand, as a first mark of trust, that you give me the keys to your most secret chambers; I wish to visit every nook, every cranny, to see all of what each contains.

  “The second thing I would have from you is a dissertation upon murder: I myself have murdered rather a lot, and have my views upon the question; I am eager to hear yours. What you say shall probably fix my attitude definitively; not that I believe you incapable of error, but I have confidence in the studies you must have made; you will speak frankly to me, for philosophers cannot trifle with anything but the truth.

  “My third condition is that you convince me of your profound contempt for all the rigamarole and ritual cant of Christian worship; to do so you have simply to proceed thus: after having had your chaplains
celebrate High Mass upon the ass of a bardash, and having with your holy prick rammed the little flour-and-water God into my anus, you will then fuck me on Saint Peter’s altar. I warn you that I shall not be fucked by you in any other way. Such follies are nothing new to me, but the idea of seeing them committed by you rouses me.

  “The fourth clause is, that inside several days you give me a lavish supper with Albani, Bernis, and my friend Princess Borghese, that at this supper there sparkle more lewdness and glitter, more libertinage than was ever displayed by any pope of old, the occasion must be gayer a thousand times, and for infamy a thousand times richer than the feast Alexander VI had served to Lucrezia.”

  “Assuredly,” said Braschi, “these are indeed strange conditions.”

  “Either you accept them or never in your life shall you possess me.”

  “Young woman, you seem not to realize that I have you in my power, and that at a mere word from me—”

  “I know that you are a tyrant,” I interrupted, “that you are base and a knave, cruel and wicked: without those qualities, it’s obvious, you’d not be in the post you hold; but forasmuch as I am no less a rascal than you, you love me. You love me, Braschi. It makes you glad to see to what point wickedness of your own sort can fill the soul of a woman; I am your joy, mighty Braschi, and you shall be mine, little Braschi; you shall satisfy me.”

  “Oh, Juliette,” Pius VI said to me, folding me in his arms, “you are a most uncommon creature, your genius is irresistible, I shall be your slave; with the mind that appears to be yours, I am in expectation of very piquant pleasures from you, of enormities. Here, the keys, they are on this ring … take them, go visit my abode; after I have received your favors I promise you the dissertation you solicit. As well, you may count upon the supper you demand, and as for the profanation your heart is set on, it shall take place this very night. I accord no more faith than you to all those spiritual mummeries, my angel; but you know the obligation we are under to make fools of the simple. I am like the charlatan with his quackeries, I must look as though I believed in the stuff if I am to vend it.”