Goltzius and the Pelican Company

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I had a little trading company.

The Pelican Company.

Engravers, printers, a writer,

an actor or two.

All of us specialised in words.

We traded in words.

Words in books.

Words on the stage.

And the members of my company

travelled with their wives

and their mistresses.

And my nephew, Eduard.

And a young woman called Susannah,

who I once knew, carnally.

Yes.

I needed some money

for some business expansion.

I wanted to make pictures

as well as words.

Pictures in books.

Pictures on the stage.

Every new visual technology

is expensive

And every new visual technology,

sooner or later,

gets into bed with lechery.

My aim was always

to take a trip to Italy.

It was winter-time,

ten years ago.

We fetched up in Colmar

on the Rhine,

and I sought an audience

with the local military-governor.

The Margrave.

By his own account, a libertarian.

With just a little imagination

we seduced him,

and we convinced him to part

with his money.

And maybe also with his dignity.

Don't be alarmed.

I am obliged

to take a public sh*t at 6 o'clock.

Whether my digestion demands it, or not.

To satisfy my courtiers

that the ceremony

is not completely a farce,

I've trained my body

to respond as it is asked.

By long precedence,

relating back to God knows when,

I am obliged to present my human self

to the populace as an ordinary man.

Some ancestor,

eager to abase himself

as some act of penance

for some unmentionable crime -

though it's my feeling also

as a curious act

of self-indulgent exhibitionism -

decided that the palace library

was the perfect place for such things.

Maybe he was thinking

of books as excrement?

It has become a custom.

Proceed.

Your highness,

signer.

Prince,

Your Majesty...

Sire...

Sir?

I am looking to found a new

printing press in The Hague,

the Netherlands.

To spread the new learning

of classical

and biblical knowledge.

The new Humanisme from Italy

with a Protestant understanding.

So, Your Highness, signer, prince,

Your Majesty, sire, sir...

we have come to you, devout Christian

and established humanist

to help us in our endeavour.

How much do you want?

And what do I get in return?

Well, what we intend to plan, signer,

is an illustrated "Book of Ovid",

concentrating on the adventures,

the sensuous adventures, of Jupiter.

What we might tentatively call

the "infidelities of Jupiter".

Or we could say,

the "Jealousies of Juno",

his wife.

And what we then conceive of producing

is an illustrated Old Testament,

with the familiar moral stories,

but told with a singular new freedom.

In other words "dirty books"?

How much?

150,000 crowns for a printing press.

80,000 crowns for yearly maintenance.

The sale of prints will pay

for running costs.

And the Treasury receives 40%

of all profits arising from sales.

Apple.

Fruit of knowledge? Hm?

Entry of evil into the world?

I never eat apples.

I peel them for my monkeys.

Which monkeys

do you peel your apples for?

My Pelican Company.

Pelican Company?

You have taken up a dangerous task.

Pelicans.

Pelicans are a bird that feed their young

by the blood of their breast.

We aim to amuse you.

We will present dramas

of these edifying stories

to demonstrate

the range of our ambitions

and the nature of our interests.

It will be a son of advertisement

for our endeavour.

Concentrate first on the Bible,

the Old Testament,

to demonstrate our faith.

And only secondly,

tackle the classical allegories

to demonstrate our learning.

Declaration of faith before learning

will open all manner of permissibilities.

And you have ten years to manufacture

the best books of their kind in Europe.

Exclusively for me.

And...

...you entertain us for six nights,

and then,

we can sign a contract

on your leaving this estate

on Monday next.

If, that is...

...all expectations are duly met.

We are interested in six sexual taboos.

Surely, in this day and age,

criminal offences,

and surely, in any age, culpable sins.

Let me introduce -

this might surprise you -

my wet nurse.

A most estimable lady,

who has very little indeed

to learn of love.

All my servants are black.

As you can see, it is fashionable

to have black servants.

Here,

black servants disappear in the dark,

did you know?

They disappear after sunset.

They become invisible.

Invisible servants

have always been very desirable.

The black does not stop at their necks,

even their pricks,

c*nts and their bottocks are black.

Though don't mess with them,

one mustn't mess with them.

Eh, Ebola? It's forbidden.

We don't want anyone seriously fooled,

or disappointed, do we?

It is Ebola's birthday.

It has been considerable years

since my toothless mouth

sucked from her warm

and nourishing nipples.

Just for me, because I know

when you make a thing with all your heart

you essentially make it

first of all for yourself

and then for one other person.

Make your entertainments

for that one other person -

my royal wet nurse.

Make her happy

and you will therefore make me happy,

Very happy indeed -

Master Goltzius, engraver...

...print maker...

Pornographer?

Mind... the steps.

We had escarpment imported from Paris.

Please come this way.

Naughty! Naughty!

Ladies of the Court, Your Eminencies,

ladies and gentlemen,

The Pelican Company

from The Hague in the Netherlands

is pleased to present to you

"The Discovery of Original Carnal Sin

"by Adam and Eva

in the Garden of Eden".

This is man.

God's property-

The first sin and possible crime

is voyeurisme.

You must of course ask yourself

what, in fact, will this Colmar audience

be doing now?

What, in fact, are you doing now?

Is the theatre the legitimate place

where we permit ourselves

to be licensed Voyeurs'?

This is woman.

God and man's property.

So, we had secured a foothold

on their credibility.

As I hope we have on yours.

The Creation was much more conceptual.

God would never have been so vulgar.

Don't you think, Rabbi,

that it was very beautiful?

No, I do not.

This was a display of abject carnality,

fit for a bordello!

- Genesis is never so explicit.

- Unfortunately not.

Otherwise we would all believe

with much greater enthusiasm.

We are going, of course,

to tell the old, old story,

in the accustomed manner

of long and venerable repute.

The slow anticipation

of the business of love

building up

to its true demonstration.

Get the nipples to itch,

the scrotums to tighten,

the pricks to rise,

the mound of Venus to swell.

Man.

I call you...

...Adam.

Adam is an ancient Aramaic word

meaning many things.

A beginning. A start.

An ego. An eye.

An empty space ready to be inked in.

As I give you a name,

you must now...

As God gives Adam a name,

he must now do likewise

to everything else

in this fresh, clean,

brave new world.

Choose wisely.

I had employed an English playwright,

Boethius.

Said he knew

all the new English playwrights.

So many choices.

So many to choose from.

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