Gargantua and Pantagruel

by François Rabelais

  Everyone assembled therefore on the Thalamege, where Pantagruel gave them a short and devout exhortation entirely buttressed by reflections on the theme of navigation drawn from Holy Writ. When that was done, prayer to God was said loud and clear. It was heard and understood by all the citizens and burghers of Thalasse who had flocked to the harbour-breakwater to witness the embarkation.

  After prayer, there was tunefully sung the Psalm of David [the Godly king] which begins, When Israel came out of Egypt. Once the Psalm was finished, trestle-tables were set up on the flush-deck and the food promptly brought in.

  The inhabitants of Thalasse, who had also joined in singing that Psalm, had caused food and wine to be carried in from their houses. Everyone drank to them: they drank to everyone. That explained why not one of the ship’s company ever got sea-sick during the journey or suffered from troubled heads or stomachs. They would never have avoided those ailments so conveniently by drinking salt-water for a few days beforehand (either pure or mixed with wine), by eating the pulp of quinces, lemon-rind or the juice of bitter-sweet pomegranates, by following some long-drawn-out diet, by covering their stomachs with paper, or by doing any of those things which stupid physicians prescribe for such as put to sea.

  After drinking toast after toast, every man returned to his ship; in due time, they spread their sails to an east – ‘Greek’ – wind, in accordance with which their principal navigator, Jamet Brayer, had plotted their course and set the needles of all their compasses. For, seeing that the oracle of the Dive Bacbuc lies in Upper India, hard by Cathay, his advice and that of Xenomanes was not to follow the usual route of the Portuguese who, by crossing the Torrid Zone, rounding the Cape of Good Hope at the tip of Africa beyond the equatorial line and losing all sight and guidance of the Pole Star, make an enormous journey of it, but rather to stick as close as possible to the same parallel as India and sail westward round the pole so that, curving along beneath the North Star, they would keep it at the same elevation as it has at the port of Les Sables-d’Olonne (drawing no nearer for fear of entering the Sea of Ice and being trapped), following that regular curve along the same parallel so that when sailing eastwards they would keep it to starboard, having had it to larboard on their departure.

  That proved incredibly advantageous to them, for without shipwreck, without danger, without the loss of a single man and in great serenity, [except for one day near the Isle of the Macraeons,] they made in less than four months the journey to Upper India which the Portuguese could hardly have completed in three years after a thousand hardships and dangers without number. And I am persuaded, saving better judgement, that such a route was accidentally fallen upon by those Indians who sailed to Germany and were honourably treated by the king of the Swabians when Quintus Metellus Celer was pro-consul in Gaul, as described by Cornelius Nepos [and Pomponius Mela] followed by Pliny.10

  How Pantagruel purchased several objects in the Isle of Medamothi

  CHAPTER 2

  [After the first sentence, which is in the ‘48 text, all the rest is added in ‘52 up to the beginning of Chapter 5.

  Medamothi (‘Nowhere’ in Greek) is perhaps a fleeting glance towards another ‘Nowhere’, More’s Utopia. All is Classical: the king’s name, Philophanes, may mean ‘fond of appearances’ or ‘manifestations’ or ‘revelations’. (The Brief Declaration makes it mean ‘fond of seeing’ or of ‘being seen’, which seems weak.) ‘Philotheamon’ does mean ‘fond of seeing’. The land of Engys is the land of Near-by.

  Behind the comic notion of the heroes’ buying portraits of the Ideas of Plato and the atoms of Epicurus lies a hint of the importance that the Ideas’ are to play in this Fourth Book. The word Idea (normally with a capital I) appears in both comic and serious contexts and is always worth notice when it appears.

  The dread tale of Procne and Tereus is told by Ovid, Metamorphoses, 6, 412ff.

  The ‘tarand’ of Antiquity was perhaps a kind of reindeer.

  There are echoes of an adage of Erasmus: I, IV, XVIII, ‘By oars and by sails’.]

  On that day and the two following no new land hove into sight nor indeed anything new, since they had already ploughed those seas before. On the fourth day they descried an island called Medamothi, pleasing and fair to the eye because of its many lighthouses and high marble towers by which it was beautified all round its circumference (which was no less great than that of Canada). On Pantagruel’s asking who ruled over it, he heard that it was King Philomanes, then away for the marriage of his brother Philotheamon to the Infanta of the kingdom of Engys. He thereupon clambered down on to the harbour and, whilst the crews of the boats took on water, contemplated the great variety of pictures, tapestries, animals, fish, birds and other exotic foreign merchandise on sale in the street running along the harbour-breakwater and in the warehouses of the port, for it was the third day of the great local Festival with its fair which, every year, brought together all the richest and most famous merchants of Africa and Asia.

  From their wares Frère Jean bought two of the rare and precious pictures, in one of which was realistically painted the sad face of an appellant, and the other was the portrait of a valet seeking an employer and showing all the desired qualities, gestures, bearing, mien, carriage, expression and emotions. It was conceived and executed by Charles Charmois, painter to the Great King.11

  Frère Jean paid for them with the coin of monkey-tricks.

  Panurge bought a large picture transposing in paint the theme long ago worked by Philomela with her needle to show and reveal to her sister Procne how her brother-in-law Tereus had raped her as a virgin and cut out her tongue so that she could never reveal such a crime. I swear to you by the handle of this fellow’s phallus that it was a daring and wonderful painting. Do not imagine, I beg you, that it portrayed a man covering a young woman. That would be too stupid and gross. The painting was very different and easier to understand. You can see it in Thélème on the left-hand side as you go into the tall gallery.

  Epistemon bought another picture on which the Ideas of Plato and the atoms of Epicurus were painted from life.

  Rhizotome bought another on which Echo was drawn from nature. Pantagruel bought through Gymnaste the life and deeds of Achilles told in seventy-eight richly worked tapestries, each measuring some sixteen feet long and some twelve feet wide, all of Phrygian silk embroidered with gold and silver thread. The series began with the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, continuing with the birth of Achilles, his youth as described by Statius Papinius, his deeds and feats-of-arms celebrated by Homer, his death and obsequies described by Ovid and Quintus Calaber, and ending with the apparition of his ghost and the sacrificing of Polyxena described by Euripides.

  He also bought three handsome young unicorns, one male with a coat the colour of burnt chestnut and two females of dapple-grey, together with a tarand which was sold to him by a Scythian from the country of the Gelones.

  The tarand is an animal as large as a young bull, bearing a head like a stag’s but a trifle larger, with branched horns remarkably wide; it has forked hooves and long hair like a great bear’s; its hide is slightly less hard than body-armour. The man from Gelonia said few were ever sighted anywhere in Scythia since it changes its colour according to the various places in which it lives and feeds. It adopts the colour of the grasses, trees, bushes, flowers, background, pastures, rocks and, in general, of anything it approaches. It shares that quality with the cuttle-fish (that is, the polyp), the thos and the lycaon of India, as well as with the chameleon, which is a sort of lizard so extraordinary that Democritus devoted one whole book to its figuration and anatomy as well as to its magic powers and properties. And yet I have witnessed it changing hue not so much at the approach of coloured objects as of itself, depending on the fears and emotions it experienced: as when I most certainly saw it turn green on green matting, yet after staying there for some time it successively turned yellow, blue, brown and violet just as you can see the crests of turkey-cocks change colour with their f
eelings.

  What we found most remarkable in that tarand is not only that its face and hide take on the colour of neighbouring things, but so do all its hairs. When close to Panurge in his bureau-cloth toga its hair turned russet; close to Pantagruel in his scarlet mantle, its hair and its hide reddened; close to the navigator, dressed in the fashion of the Anubis in Egypt, its hide appeared entirely white. (Those last two colours are denied to the chameleon.) When the tarand reverts to its natural state, free from all fear and emotion, its hair is such as you find on donkeys in Meung.

  How Pantagruel received a letter from Gargantua his father; and of a curious way of obtaining news very quickly from distant lands afar

  CHAPTER 3

  [Homing-pigeons were all but unknown. Rabelais seems to have learnt of them recently and wrote favourably of them in his Sciomachie of 1549 (his account of a mock naval engagement arranged by Cardinal Jean Du Bellay to celebrate the birth of the short-lived Louis of Orleans, the son of Henri II). Whereas others judged miraculous, or almost miraculous, the speed with which vital news reached (say) Roman bankers, Rabelais opted for unmysterious and unmiraculous explanations based on the ‘gozal’, the homing-pigeon recently reintroduced into Europe from Egypt.

  Gargantua cites a saying attributed to Hesiod by Erasmus (Adages, I, II, XXXIX, ‘The beginning is half of the whole’).]

  While Pantagruel was engaged in buying those animals, there was heard a ten-gun salute from basilisks and falconets in the harbour together with loud happy hurrahs from all the ships. Pantagruel looked towards the harbour and saw that it was one of his father Gargantua’s swift cutters, named the Chélidoine after the Corinthian brass statue of a sea-swallow raised on the poop.

  A sea-swallow is a fish as big as dace in the river Loire, all flesh and no scales, with cartilaginous wings (like those of bats), long and wide, by means of which I have often seen it glide some six feet above water further than an arrow flies. In Marseilles they call it the lendole. And indeed that vessel was as light as a sea-swallow, so that it seemed to skim over the sea rather than sail upon it.

  On board was Malicorne, Gargantua’s esquire-trenchant, despatched expressly by him to learn of the condition and circumstances of his good son Pantagruel and to bring him letters of credit. Pantagruel, after a brief embrace and a graciously doffed bonnet, asked – before opening the letter or addressing any other words to Malicorne – ‘Have you brought with you the gozal, that messenger from the skies?’ – ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘it is kept hooded inside this pannier.’

  It was a pigeon taken from Gargantua’s dovecot, just hatching its young at the very instant that the swift cutter was about to leave. If ill fortune had befallen Pantagruel, black rings would have been attached to its feet, but since all had turned out well for him and prosperously, once its hood was removed he attached a little band of white taffeta to its leg and, brooking no further delay, set it completely free. It at once took to the wing, slicing through the air at an incredible speed, since, as you know, there is no flight like that of a pigeon’s when it has eggs or young, because of the stubborn concern to conserve and preserve its brood instilled into it by Nature; and so it was that in less than two hours it flew back over that long distance which the swift cutter had covered in three days and three nights working extremely hard and using oar and sail with a steady wind astern.

  It was spotted entering the dovecot to the very nest of its young. Noble Gargantua then learnt that it bore the little white band and continued in joy and confidence because of the good start his son had made.

  Such was the practice of noble Gargantua and Pantagruel whenever they wanted to have news quickly of something eagerly coveted and intensely desired, such as the outcome of a battle on land or sea, the storming or the defending of some fortress, the settling of some vital quarrel, the happy or unhappy delivery of a queen or some great lady, the death or cure of sick friends or allies, and so on. They would take the gozal and have it borne from hand to hand, from post to post, to the places from which they wanted news. The gozal bore a black or a white band depending on events and outcomes and, once it returned, freed them from anxiety, flying a greater distance in one hour than a succession of thirty post-riders could cover in a typical day. That really is to gain and save time! And you should accept as quite credible that you could find eggs or chicks in the dovecots of their estates during all the months and seasons of the year, and plenty of pigeons. That is something easy to arrange in a household by using rock-salt and the ‘sacred boughs’ of verbena. Having released the gozal, Pantagruel read his father’s missive, the contents of which were as follows:

  My Dearest Son:

  The affection which a father naturally bears for his beloved son is in my case so greatly increased by respect and reverence for the gifts of grace personally bestowed on you through your election by God, that since you have set out no other thought has diverted me, leaving me this one and anxious fear: that your sailing might be accompanied by some mishap or trouble, since, as you know, good and pure love is ever annexed to apprehension. And since (according to the saying of Hesiod) half of any undertaking is beginning it, and since (according to the common saying) Well-shaped loaves start off in the oven, I (to void my mind of such anxiety have expressly despatched Malicorne in order that I may be assured of your circumstances during these first days of your voyage; for if they are prosperous and such as I hope, it will be easy for me to foresee, foretell and judge the rest.

  I have acquired some amusing books which will be given to you by the present bearer. You will read them when you need some relaxation from your serious studies. The same bearer will give you all the news of this Court.

  The peace of the Lord be with you. Greet Panurge, Frère Jean, Epistemon, Xenomanes, Gymnaste and the other good friends of mine in your household.

  From your family home, this thirteenth of June;

  Your loving father,

  GARGANTUA.

  How Pantagruel writes a letter to Gargantua his father and sends him several things, rare and beautiful

  CHAPTER 4

  [A perfect son replies to his good father. The exemplum of Augustus Caesar and Furnius was well known from the treatise of Seneca On Benefits, 1, 25, 1. Rabelais is further indebted to On Benefits, 2, 2, 31ff. for the three parts of a beneficent action.

  The exemplum of Furnius (but not the development of it here) is listed by Erasmus’ Apophthegms, VIII, penultimate series of numbers, 42.

  Pantagruel’s hyperbole leads him to compare himself to one of the ‘unprofitable servants’ of Luke 17:10, who, having done all that they were told to do, deserve no gratitude for simply obeying orders.]

  After reading that letter, Pantagruel discussed several matters with Malicorne, the esquire, and was so long with him that Panurge broke across and said, ‘When are you going to have a drink then? And when are we going to have a drink? And when is Monsieur the Esquire going to have a drink? Haven’t you preached enough to deserve a drink?’

  ‘Well said,’ replied Pantagruel. ‘Have them prepare a post-sermon bite for us in that nearby inn, at the sign of the Satyr on Horseback.’

  Meanwhile he wrote a letter to Gargantua, as follows, to be despatched with the esquire:

  Father most debonair:

  From all unforeseen and surprising happenings in this transitory life our minds and spiritual faculties suffer disturbances more immense and uncontrollable (indeed frequently causing the soul to be dislodged from the body, even though such sudden news were pleasing and desired) than if they had been anticipated and foreseen beforehand: and therefore the unexpected arrival of your esquire, Malicorne, greatly moved and thrilled me, for I never hoped to see any of your household nor to have any news of you before the end of our voyage; and I was ready to delight quietly in the remembrance of your august Majesty which is written, or rather chiselled and engraved, on the posterior ventricle of my brain and often vividly re-presented to me in your Majesty’s true and natural form.

&
nbsp; But since you have anticipated me with the benefit of your gracious letter and have, by the testimony of your esquire, enlivened my spirits with the news of your well-being and good health as well as that of all your Royal household, I now indeed must (as I spontaneously do) first praise our blessèd Servator: may He in his divine goodness keep you in a long enjoyment of perfect health: secondly, forever thank you for that ardent and long-established love which you bear towards me, your most-humble son and unprofitable servant.

  Long ago a Roman called Furnius received from Caesar Augustus a grace and pardon for his father who had joined the faction of Mark-Anthony; and Furnius said to him, ‘In doing me that favour today you have reduced me to such embarrassment that, whether I live or die, I must needs appear ungrateful on account of the total inadequacy of my gratitude.’ Thus could I say today that your exceeding fatherly love for me has made me afraid that I must live and die an ingrate, unless, that is, I am relieved of such an incrimination by a judgement of the Stoics, who maintained there to be three parts in a beneficent action: the part of the giver; the part of the receiver; and, third, the part of the recompenser; and that the receiver very well recompenses the giver when he gratefully accepts the beneficence and retains it in perpetual memory; as, on the contrary, the receiver is the most ungrateful man in the world who would slight and forget the beneficence.

  And so, bearing the weight of an infinity of obligations, all procreated by your immense benignity, and being powerless to make the smallest recompense, I shall at least save myself from calumny in that the memory of it will never be expunged from my mind, and my tongue shall never cease to confess and proclaim that to utter condign thanks to you surpasses my faculties and my powers.