The Sylph
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The Sylph, by Claude Prosper Jolyot de Crébillon (fils) is an English translation of a little gem of a short story and libertine work first published in 1730, from the French (Le Sylphe, ou Songe de Madame de R*** écrit par elle-même à Madame de S***). Sylphs or Sylphids are, as most people do not know, elemental aery creatures, or spirits, not unlike faeries or nymphs even. Unlike nymphs, they come in both sexes, but in this genre-breaking short story they come in just one (vir). English-language readers will have encountered their very first sylph perhaps in Alexander Pope¿s The Rape of...
The Sylph, by Claude Prosper Jolyot de Crébillon (fils) is an English translation of a little gem of a short story and libertine work first published in 1730, from the French (Le Sylphe, ou Songe de Madame de R*** écrit par elle-même à Madame de S***). Sylphs or Sylphids are, as most people do not know, elemental aery creatures, or spirits, not unlike faeries or nymphs even. Unlike nymphs, they come in both sexes, but in this genre-breaking short story they come in just one (vir). English-language readers will have encountered their very first sylph perhaps in Alexander Pope¿s The Rape of the Lock, written around the same time and published unfortunately on the wrong side of the Channel. The Sylph in this story by Crébillon fils ("fils" to distinguish him from his father) is a tad more libertine than that of the Lock (assuming the Lock qualifies, which it doesn¿t). Short, as all short stories are, it takes place entirely in the bedroom of the young, charming, and beautiful Countess, Madame de R***, as she prepares to go to sleep for the night and is visited by a... male Sylph, or so it seems. Rather like The School of Women, which also takes place almost entirely in a bedroom, or bedrooms, and which is also of the libertine genre - The Sylph is about as tame and aery as libertine stories get. Even more so than the Ecclesiastical Laurels. But light and entertaining, it is also quite funny at times. The plot: a Sylph visits the Countess, who is not sure whether she is awake or dreaming, and seduces her in so many words. "...I had retired to my room; the night was warm. I went to bed in a modest fashion, for someone who believes she is alone, but would not have done so if I had thought someone was watching me."
