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"1601"
[By Mark Twain]
From 1601, or Conversation As It Was at the Social Fireside in the Time of
the Tudors (1876).
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Mem:-- The following is supposed to be an extract from the dairy of
the Pepys of that day, the same being cup-bearer to Queen Elizabeth. It
is supposed that he is of ancient and noble lineage; that he despises
those canaille; that his soul consumes with wrath to see the Queen
stooping to talk to such; and that the old man feels his nobility
defiled by contact with Shakespeare, etc., and yet he has got to stay
there till Her Majesty chooses to dismiss him.
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YESTERNIGHT TOOK Her Majestie, ye Queen, a fantasie such as she sometimes
hath, and hadde to her closet certain that do write playes, bookes, and such
like -- these being by Lord Bacon, his worship, Sir Walter Raleigh, Mr. Ben
Jonson, & ye childe Francis Beaumont, which being but sixteen hath yet
turned his hande to ye doing of ye Latin masters into our English tongue
with great discretion and much applause. Also came with those ye famous
Shaxpur. A right strange mingling of mightie blood with meane, ye more in
especial since ye Queene's Grace was present, as likewise these following to
wit: Ye Duchesse of Bilgewater, twenty-two years of age; ye Countess of
Granby, thirty-six; her tower, ye Lady Helen; as also yet two maides of
honor to wit: Ye Lady Margery Bothby, sixty-five; ye Lady Alice Dilbur,
turned seventy, she being two years ye Queene's Graces elder.
I, being Her Majestie's cup-bearer, had no choice but to remain & behold
rank forgot, & ye high hold converse with ye low as upon equal termes, & a
great scandal did ye world heare thereof. In ye heate of ye talke, it befel
that one did breake wynde, yielding an exceeding mightie and distressful
stinke, whereat all did laffe full sore, and then:
Ye Queene
Verily, in mine eight and sixty years have I not hearde ye fellow to this
fartte. Meseemth by ye greate sound and clamour of it, it was male, yet ye
bellie it did lurke behind should now falle lene and flat against ye spine
of him that hath been delivered of so stately & so vaste a bulke, whereas ye
guts of them that doe quiff-splitters beare, stand comely, stille & rounde.
Prithee, let ye author confess ye offspring. Will my Lady Alice testify?
Lady Alice
Goode, your Grace, an' I hadde roome for such a thundergust within mine
ancient bowels, 'tis not in reason I could discharge the same and live to
thank God for that he did chuse handmayd so humble to show his power. Nay,
'tis not I that have brought forth this rych o'ermastering fog, this
fragrant gloom, so pray seek ye further.
Ye Queene
Mayhap ye Lady Margery hath done ye companie this favour?
Lady Margery
So please you, Madame, my limbs are feeble with ye weighte and drouthe of
five and sixty winters, & it behooveth that I be tender with them. In ye
good providence of Good, an' hadde I contained this wonder forsooth would I
have given ye whole evening of my sinking life to ye dribbling of it forthe
with trembling and uneasy soul, not launched it sudden in its matchless
might, taking my own life with violence, rending my weake frame like rotten
rags. It was not I, Your Majestie.
Ye Queene
In God's name who hath favoured us? Hath it come to pass that a fartte shall
fartte itself? Not such a one as this I trow. Young Master Beaumont? But no,
'twould have wafted him to Heaven like down of goose's bodie. "Twas not ye
little Lady Helen, -- nay, ne'er blush, my childe, thou'lt tickle thy tender
maiden-hedde with many a mousie squeak before thou learn'st to blow a
hurricant. Wasn't you, my learned and ingenius Jonson?
Jonson
So felle a blaste hath ne'er mine ears saluted, nor yet a stenche so
all-pervading & immortal. 'Twas not a novice did it, good Your Majestie, but
one of veteran experience -- else had he failed of confidence. In sooth it
was not I.
Ye Queene
My Lord Bacon?
Lord Bacon
Not from my lene entrailes hath this prodigie burst forth, so please Your
Grace. Nau't doth so befit ye greate as greate performance; and haply shall
ye find that 'tis not form mediocrity this miracle hath issued. Tho ye
subject bee but a fartte, yet will this tedious sink of learning ponderously
philosphize. Meantime did ye foul & deadly sinke pervade all places to that
degree, that never smelt I ye like, yet dared I not leave ye Presence,
albeit I was like to suffocate.
Ye Queene
What saith your worshipful Master Shaxpur?
Shaxpur
In ye greate hande of God, I stande & so proclaim my innocence. Tho' ye
sinlesse hostess of Heaven hadde fortold ye coming of this most desolating
breathe, proclaiming it a worke of uninspired man; its quaking thunders, its
firmament-clogging rottenness his own achievement in due course of nature,
yet hadde I not believed it; but hadde said, "ye Pit itself hath furnished
forth ye stinke and Heaven's artillery hath shook ye globe in admiration of
it."
Then there was a silence, & each did turne him toward ye worshipful Sir
Walter Raleigh, that browned, embattled, bloudy swashbucker, who rousing up
did smile and simpering say:
Sir Walter
Most gracious Majestie, 'Twas I that did it; but, indeed, it was so poor and
fragile a note comparied with such as I am wont to furnish, that in sooth I
was ashamed to call ye weakling mine in so august a Presence. It was nothing
-- less than nothing -- Madame. I did it but to clear my nether throat; but
hadde I come prepared then hadde I delivered something worthie. Beare with
me, please your Grace, till I can make amends.
Then delivered he himself of such a god-lesse & rock-shivering blaste,
that all were fain to stop their ears, and following it did come so dense
and foul a stinke, that that which went before did seem a poor and trifling
thing beside it. Then saith he, feigning that he blushed and was confused,
'I perceive that I am weake today & cannot justice doe unto my powers,' and
sat him down as who should say, -- There, it is not much, yet he that hath
an arse to spare, let him follow that, an' he think he can. By God, and I
were ye Queene, I would e'en tip this swaggering bragggart out o' ye court,
& let him air his grandeurs & breake his intolerable wynd before ye deaf &
such as suffocation pleaseth.
Then fell they to talk about ye manners and customs of many peoples, and
master Shaxpur spake of ye booke of Sir Michael Montaine, wherein was
mention of ye custom of widows of Perigord, to wear upon ye headdress, in
sign of widowhood, a jewel in ye similitude of a man's member wilted and
limber, whereat ye Queened did laffe and say, widows in England do wear
prickers too, but 'twixt ye thyghs and not wilted either, till coition hath
done that office for them. Master Shaxpur did also observe that the Sieur de
Montaine hath also spoken of a certain emperor of such mightie prowess that
he did take ten maiden-heddes in ye compass of a single night, and while his
empress did entertain two & twenty lusty knights atween her sheets & yet was
not satisfied; whereat ye merrie Countess Granby saith, a ram is yet ye
Emperor's superior, since he will top above a hundred ewes 'twixt sun & sun,
& after, if he can have none more to shag, will masturbate until he hath
enryched whole acres with hys seed. Then spake ye dammed wynd-mill, Sir
Walter, of a people in ye uttermost parts of America, that copulate not
until they be five and thirty yeares of age, ye women being eight and
twenty, and do it then but once in seven yeares.
Ye Queene
How doth that like my little Lady Helen? Shall we send thee thither and
preserve thy belly?
Lady Helen
Please your Highness' Grace, mine olde nurse hath told me there bee more
ways of serve God than by locking the thyghs together; yet I am ready to
serve him in that way too, since your Highness' Grace hath set ye example.
Ye Queene
God's woundes, a good answer, childe.
Lady Alice
Mayhap 'twill weaken when ye hair sprouts below ye naval.
Lady Helen
Nay, it sprouted two years since; I can scurce more than cover it with my
hand now.
Ye Queene
Heare ye that, my little Beaumont? Have you not a small birdie about ye that
stirs at hearing of so sweet a neste?
Beaumont
'Tis not insensible, moste illustrious Madame; but mousing owls and bats of
low degree may not aspire to bliss so overwhelming and ecstatic as is found
in the downy nestes of birdes of Paradise.
Ye Queene
By ye gullet of God, 'tis a neet turned compliment. With such a tongue as
thyne, lad, thou'lt spread the ivorie thyghs of many a willing maide in thy
goode time, an' thy cod-piece be as handy as thy speach.
Then spake ye Queene of how she met old Rabelais when she was turned of
fifteen, & hee did tell her of a man his father knew that hadd a couple pair
of bollocks, whereon a controversy followed as concerning ye most just way
to spell ye word, ye controversy running high 'twixt ye learned Bacon and ye
ingenious JOnson, until at last ye olde Lady Margery, wearing of it, saith,
GENTLES, WHAT MATTERETH IT HOW YE SPELL YE WORD?I WARRANT YE WHEN YE USE
YOUR BOLLOCKS YE SHALL NOT THINK OF IT; AND MY LADY GRANBY, BEE YE CONTENT,
LET YE SPELLING BE; YE SHALL ENJOY YE BEATING OF THEM ON YOUR BUTTOCKS JUST
YE SAME I TROW. BEFORE I HAD GAINED MY FOURTEENTH YEARE, I HADDE LEARNED
THAT THEM THAT WOULD EXPLORE A CUNT, STOPP'D NOT TO CONSIDER YE SPELLING O'T.
Sir Walter:
In sooth, when a shift's turned uppe, delay is meete for naught but
dalliance. Bocaccio hath a story of a priest that did beguile a mayd into
his cell, then knelt him in a corner to pray for grace that he bee rightly
thankful for this tender maiden-hedde the Lorde hadd sent him, but the abbot
spying through ye keyhole did see a tuft of brownish hair with fair white
flesh about it, wherefore, when ye priest's prayer was done his chance was
gone, forasmuch as ye little mayd hadde but ye one cunt and that was already
occupide to her content.
Then conversed they of religion & mightie worke ye olde deade Luther did
doe by ye grace of God. Then next about poetry, & Master Shaxpur did read a
part of his Kyng Henrie IV, the which it seemeth to mee is not of the value
of an arseful of ashes, yet they prised it bravely, one and all.
The same did rede a portion of his Venus & Adonis to their prodigious
admiration, whereas, I being sleepy & fatigured withal, did deem it but
paltry stuffe & was ye more discomfitted in that ye bloudy buccaneer hadde
got wynd again & did turn his minde to fartting with such villain zeil that
presently I was like to choke once more. God damn this wyndy ruffian & all
his breeds. I would that helle might get hym.
They talked about the wonderful defence which olde Nicholas Throgmorton
did make for himself before ye judges in ye time of Mary, which was unlucky
matter for to broach, since it fetched out ye Queene with a pity that he,
having so much wit, had yet not enough to save his daugher's maiden-hedde
sound for her marriage bedde, & ye Queene did give ye damned Sir Walter a
look that made him wince -- for she hath not forgot that he was her own love
in ye olden days. There was a silent uncomfortableness now, 'twas not a
goode turne for talke to take, since if ye Queen must find offense in a
little harmless debauching, when pricks were stiff & cunts not loath to take
the stiffness out of them, who of the companie was sinless. Beholde, was not
ye wife of Master Shaxpur four months gone with childe when she stoode uppe
before ye altar? Was not her grace of Bilgewater rogered by four lords
before she hadde a husband? Was not little Lady Helen borne on her mother's
wedding day? & beholde, were not ye Lady Alice & Lady Margery there,
mouthing religion, whores from the cradle?
In time came they to discourse of Cervantes & of ye new painter Rubens,
that is beginning to be heard of. Fine words and dainty wrought phrases from
ye ladies now, one or two of them beeing, in other days, pupils of that
poore ass, Lillie, himselfe: I marked how that Jonson & Shaxpur did fidget
to discharge some venom of sarcasm, yet dared they not in ye presence, ye
Queene's grace beeing ye very flower in ye that, having a specialtie &
admiring it in themselves, bee jealous when a neighbor doth essay it nor can
abide it in them long.
Wherefore it was observed that ye Queene waxed
uncontent; & in time a labourd grandiose speeche out of ye mouth of Lady
Alice, who manifestly did mightylie pride herself thereon, did quite exhaust
ye Queene's endurance, who listened till ye gaudy speeche was doen, then
lifting up her brows & with a vast irony, mincing, said, "O SHIT!" Whereat
they all did laffe, but not ye Lady Alice, that olde foole bitche.
Now was Sir Walter minded of a tale he once did heare ye ingenious
Margaret of Navarre relate about a mayd, which being like to suffer rape by
an olde arch-bishop, did smartly contrive a device to save her maidenhedde,
& said to him: "first, my Lord, prithee take out thy toole & pisse before
me," which doing, Lo! his member fell & would not rise again.
Many editions of this Mark Twain classic, "1601," have been printed by
his and its admirers. Each purports to be the original, much to the
confusion of the collector of first issues.
For the average collector the actual first printing of this item must
forever remain unobtainable. Those fortunate individuals who now possess the
two or three known copies of the identic first are wealthy booklovers not
apt to part with such treasures during their lifetimes.
The inception of the story and its literary position are best given in
the words of Mark Twain's able biographer, Albert Bigelow Paine, as follows:
In his reading that year 1876 at the farm he gave more than customary
attention to one of his favorite books, Pepys' Diary, that captivating old
record which no one can follow continuously without catching the infection
of its manner and the desire of imitation. He had been reading diligently
one day, when he determined to try his hand on an imaginary record of
conversation and court manners of a bygone day, written in the phrase of the
period. The result was Fireside Conversation in the Time of Queen Elizabeth,
or, as he later called it, "1601." The "Conversation," recorded by a
supposed Pepys of that period, was written with all the outspoken coarse
ness and nakedness of that rank day, when fireside sociabilities were
limited only by the range of loosened fancy, vocabulary, and physical
performance, and not by any bonds of convention. Howells has spoken of Mark
Twain's "Elizabethan breadth of parlance," and how he, Howells, was always
hiding away in discreet holes and corners the letters in which Clemens had
"loosed his bold fancy to stoop to rank suggestion." "I could not bear
to burn them," he declares, "and 1 could not, after the first reading, quite
bear to look at them."
In "1601" Mark Twain outdid himself in the Elizabethan field. It was
written as a letter to that robust divine, the Rev. Joseph Twitchell, who
had no special scruples concerning Shakespearian parlance and customs.
Before it was mailed it was shown to David Cray, who was spending a Sunday
at Elmira. Cray said: "Print it and put your name to it, Mark. You have
never done a greater piece of work than that."
John Hay, whom it also reached in due time (1880), pronounced it a
classic—a "most exquisite bit of old English morality." Hay surreptitiously
permitted some proofs to be made of it (see note), and it has been
circulated privately, though sparingly, ever since. At one time (1882) a
special font of antique type was made for it and one hundred copies were
taken on hand-made paper. They would easily bring a hundred dollars each
to-day.
"1601" is a genuine classic, as classics of that sort go. It is better
than the gross obscenities of Rabelais, and perhaps, in some day to come,
the taste that justified Gargantua and the Decameron will give this literary
refugee shelter and setting among the more conventional writings of Mark
Twain. Human taste is a curious thing; delicacy is purely a matter of
environment and point of view.
In a note-book of a later period Clemens himself wrote: "It depends on
who writes a thing whether it is coarse or not. I once wrote a conversation
between Elizabeth, Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Beaumont, Sir W. Raleigh, Lord
Bacon, Sir Nicolas Throckmorton, and a stupid old nobleman—this latter being
cup-bearer to the Queen and ostensible reporter of the tale.
"There were four maids-of-honor present and a sweet young girl two years
younger than the boy Beaumont. I built a conversation which could have
happened — I used words such as were used at that time—1601. I sent it
anonymously to a magazine, and how the editor abused it and the sender! But
that man was a praiser of Rabelais, and had been saying, 'O that we had a
Rabelais.' I judged that I could furnish him one.'*
NOTE.—The following from The Saturday Evening Post (Philadelphia),
October, 1903, corroborates Mr. Paine's statement:
An early instance of that fine diplomacy which has made the name of John
Hay famous throughout the world has just come to light in Cleveland.
He was on terms of intimate friendship with the late Alexander Cunn—prince
of connoisseurs of literature and art—and had sent him for perusal the
manuscript of a little sketch by Mark Twain, unknown to collectors —
Conversation as it was at the Social Fireside in the Time of the Tudors.
This Mr. Hay described as a "serious effort to bring back our literature and
philosophy to the chaste and Elizabethan standard."
Mr. Cunn was pleased with the effort, and wrote to Hay, proposing to
print a few copies for private circulation, to which he replied:
"My Dear Gunn:—I have your letter, and the proposition which you make to
pull a few proofs of the masterpiece is highly attractive, and, of course,
highly immoral. I cannot property consent to it, and I am afraid the great
man would think I was taking an unfair advantage of his confidence. Please
send back the document as soon as you can, and if, in spite of my
prohibition, you take these proofs, save me one."
It is needless to say that with this hint the proofs were "pulled"—one
for Hay and one for Cunn.
