Kabanata Kabanata 13 · How Gargantua’s wonderful un

Chapter 1.XIII.

How Gargantua’s wonderful understanding became known to his father

Grangousier, by the invention of a torchecul or wipebreech.

About the end of the fifth year, Grangousier returning from the conquest of

the Canarians, went by the way to see his son Gargantua. There was he

filled with joy, as such a father might be at the sight of such a child of

his: and whilst he kissed and embraced him, he asked many childish

questions of him about divers matters, and drank very freely with him and

with his governesses, of whom in great earnest he asked, amongst other

things, whether they had been careful to keep him clean and sweet. To this

Gargantua answered, that he had taken such a course for that himself, that

in all the country there was not to be found a cleanlier boy than he. How

is that? said Grangousier. I have, answered Gargantua, by a long and

curious experience, found out a means to wipe my bum, the most lordly, the

most excellent, and the most convenient that ever was seen. What is that?

said Grangousier, how is it? I will tell you by-and-by, said Gargantua.

Once I did wipe me with a gentle-woman’s velvet mask, and found it to be

good; for the softness of the silk was very voluptuous and pleasant to my

fundament. Another time with one of their hoods, and in like manner that

was comfortable. At another time with a lady’s neckerchief, and after that

I wiped me with some ear-pieces of hers made of crimson satin, but there

was such a number of golden spangles in them (turdy round things, a pox

take them) that they fetched away all the skin of my tail with a vengeance.

Now I wish St. Antony’s fire burn the bum-gut of the goldsmith that made

them, and of her that wore them! This hurt I cured by wiping myself with a

page’s cap, garnished with a feather after the Switzers’ fashion.

Afterwards, in dunging behind a bush, I found a March-cat, and with it I

wiped my breech, but her claws were so sharp that they scratched and

exulcerated all my perinee. Of this I recovered the next morning

thereafter, by wiping myself with my mother’s gloves, of a most excellent

perfume and scent of the Arabian Benin. After that I wiped me with sage,

with fennel, with anet, with marjoram, with roses, with gourd-leaves, with

beets, with colewort, with leaves of the vine-tree, with mallows,

wool-blade, which is a tail-scarlet, with lettuce, and with spinach leaves.

All this did very great good to my leg. Then with mercury, with parsley,

with nettles, with comfrey, but that gave me the bloody flux of Lombardy,

which I healed by wiping me with my braguette. Then I wiped my tail in the

sheets, in the coverlet, in the curtains, with a cushion, with arras

hangings, with a green carpet, with a table-cloth, with a napkin, with a

handkerchief, with a combing-cloth; in all which I found more pleasure than

do the mangy dogs when you rub them. Yea, but, said Grangousier, which

torchecul did you find to be the best? I was coming to it, said Gargantua,

and by-and-by shall you hear the tu autem, and know the whole mystery and

knot of the matter. I wiped myself with hay, with straw, with

thatch-rushes, with flax, with wool, with paper, but,

Who his foul tail with paper wipes,

Shall at his ballocks leave some chips.

What, said Grangousier, my little rogue, hast thou been at the pot, that

thou dost rhyme already? Yes, yes, my lord the king, answered Gargantua, I

can rhyme gallantly, and rhyme till I become hoarse with rheum. Hark, what

our privy says to the skiters:

Shittard,

Squirtard,

Crackard,

Turdous,

Thy bung

Hath flung

Some dung

On us:

Filthard,

Cackard,

Stinkard,

St. Antony’s fire seize on thy toane (bone?),

If thy

Dirty

Dounby

Thou do not wipe, ere thou be gone.

Will you have any more of it? Yes, yes, answered Grangousier. Then, said

Gargantua,

A Roundelay.

In shitting yes’day I did know

The sess I to my arse did owe:

The smell was such came from that slunk,

That I was with it all bestunk:

O had but then some brave Signor

Brought her to me I waited for,

In shitting!

I would have cleft her watergap,

And join’d it close to my flipflap,

Whilst she had with her fingers guarded

My foul nockandrow, all bemerded

In shitting.

Now say that I can do nothing! By the Merdi, they are not of my making,

but I heard them of this good old grandam, that you see here, and ever

since have retained them in the budget of my memory.

Let us return to our purpose, said Grangousier. What, said Gargantua, to

skite? No, said Grangousier, but to wipe our tail. But, said Gargantua,

will not you be content to pay a puncheon of Breton wine, if I do not blank

and gravel you in this matter, and put you to a non-plus? Yes, truly, said

Grangousier.

There is no need of wiping one’s tail, said Gargantua, but when it is foul;

foul it cannot be, unless one have been a-skiting; skite then we must

before we wipe our tails. O my pretty little waggish boy, said

Grangousier, what an excellent wit thou hast? I will make thee very

shortly proceed doctor in the jovial quirks of gay learning, and that, by

G--, for thou hast more wit than age. Now, I prithee, go on in this

torcheculative, or wipe-bummatory discourse, and by my beard I swear, for

one puncheon, thou shalt have threescore pipes, I mean of the good Breton

wine, not that which grows in Britain, but in the good country of Verron.

Afterwards I wiped my bum, said Gargantua, with a kerchief, with a pillow,

with a pantoufle, with a pouch, with a pannier, but that was a wicked and

unpleasant torchecul; then with a hat. Of hats, note that some are shorn,

and others shaggy, some velveted, others covered with taffeties, and others

with satin. The best of all these is the shaggy hat, for it makes a very

neat abstersion of the fecal matter.

Afterwards I wiped my tail with a hen, with a cock, with a pullet, with a

calf’s skin, with a hare, with a pigeon, with a cormorant, with an

attorney’s bag, with a montero, with a coif, with a falconer’s lure. But,

to conclude, I say and maintain, that of all torcheculs, arsewisps,

bumfodders, tail-napkins, bunghole cleansers, and wipe-breeches, there is

none in the world comparable to the neck of a goose, that is well downed,

if you hold her head betwixt your legs. And believe me therein upon mine

honour, for you will thereby feel in your nockhole a most wonderful

pleasure, both in regard of the softness of the said down and of the

temporate heat of the goose, which is easily communicated to the bum-gut

and the rest of the inwards, in so far as to come even to the regions of

the heart and brains. And think not that the felicity of the heroes and

demigods in the Elysian fields consisteth either in their asphodel,

ambrosia, or nectar, as our old women here used to say; but in this,

according to my judgment, that they wipe their tails with the neck of a

goose, holding her head betwixt their legs, and such is the opinion of

Master John of Scotland, alias Scotus.