Gargantua and Pantagruel

by François Rabelais

  I have confidence moreover in the mercy and help of Our Lord: the end of our peregrination will correspond to the beginning, and the whole will be done in joy and perfect health. I shall not fail to record in diaries and log-books the whole course of our voyage in order that, on our return, you may read a true account of it.

  I have discovered here a tarand from Scythia, a beast which is strange and wonderful because it changes the colour of its hair and hide according to the different things it approaches. You will find it interesting: it is as easy as a lamb to handle and feed. I also send you three young unicorns which are more domesticated and tractable than little kittens. I have conferred with the esquire and told him how to treat them. They cannot eat anything off the ground, since the long horn on their foreheads gets in their way. They are obliged to seek their food from fruit-trees, from adapted mangers or else from your hand if you proffer them grasses, blades of corn, apples, pears, barley, white-wheat, in short all kinds of fruits and vegetables. It amazes me how our ancient authors call them ferocious, savage and dangerous, and state that they are never spotted alive. You might like, if it seems fit, to make proof of the contrary: you will find that – provided they are not spitefully provoked – there exists in them the greatest mildness in the world.

  I similarly send you the life and deeds of Achilles in beautiful and ingenious tapestry-work, whilst assuring you that I shall bring you specimens of all the new animals, plants, birds and stones that we can find and procure during the whole of our voyage – God being my helper, whom I pray to keep you in His holy grace.

  From Medamothi, this eighteenth day of June.

  Panurge, Frère Jean, Epistemon, Xenomanes, Gymnaste, Eusthenes, Rhizotome and Carpalim dutifully kiss your hand and return your greetings increased a hundredfold.

  Your humble son and servant.

  PANTAGRUEL.

  While Pantagruel was writing the above letter, Malicorne was feasted, made welcome and firmly hugged by everyone. God knows how well it all went and how compliments were flying about from every side.

  Once Pantagruel had finished his letter he feasted with the esquire, bestowing on him a heavy gold chain weighing as much as eight hundred crowns; at every seventh link of it there were set diamonds, rubies, emeralds, turquoises and pearls in succession.

  He ordered five hundred Sun-crowns to be given to each of his seamen. To his father Gargantua he sent the tarand (covered with a caparison of satin with gold brocade) as well as the tapestries containing the life and deeds of Achilles and the three unicorns with caparisons of gilded frieze-cloth.

  And then they sailed away from Medamothi, Malicorne to return to Gargantua, and Pantagruel to continue his voyage.

  On the high seas Pantagruel had Epistemon read to them from the books the Esquire had brought. He found them amusing and enjoyable so I shall, if you really press me, most willingly make you transcripts of them.

  How Pantagruel met a ship of voyagers returning from Land of the Lanterns

  CHAPTER 5

  [Chapter 2 of ‘48 is taken up here, but with ‘52 reading the ‘fourth’ (not ‘fifth’) day.

  The Lanterns who dwell on this island are all female.

  In Renaissance French lanterne means ‘lantern’ but also ‘nonsense’ and the female sexual organs. Lanterner can similarly mean ‘to talk nonsense’ or Ho lecher’ in a variety of ways depending upon contexts, and many puns turn about those overlapping senses.

  The merchant’s red-coral stump is his penis.]

  On the fifth day we were already beginning to work our way gradually around the Pole while moving further away from the Equator when we descried a merchantman in full sail off our port bow. There was not a little joy both on our part and on the merchants’: on our part, from hearing news of the sea; on their part, from hearing news of Terra-firma. Drawing alongside, we learnt that they were Frenchmen from Saintonge. When talking and deliberating with them, Pantagruel gathered that they were on the way from Lanternland, at which he felt a fresh access of joy as did all the rest of the company, especially when, after inquiring of the condition of that country and of the mores of the Lanternese people, we were advised that a chapter-general of the Lanterns had been convoked for the end of June, and that if we made harbour there in time (as it was easy to do) we should see a fair, honourable and happy company of Lanterns, and that great preparations were being made as though they were going to thoroughly lantern things up!

  [We were also told that if we sailed via the great kingdom of Gebarim we would be greeted and honoured by King Ohabe, the ruler of that land, who, together with all of his subjects, speaks the French of Touraine.]12

  While we were hearing that news, Panurge got into a wrangle with a merchant from Taillebourg called Dindenault. The cause was as follows. This Dindenault,13 seeing Panurge without his codpiece and with his glasses stuck in his bonnet, said to his companion, ‘Look: there’s a freshly minted cuckold!’

  Panurge was hearing things more distinctly than usual because of his glasses and overheard what was being said, so he demanded of the merchant, ‘How the devil could I be cuckolded when I’m not even married – as you are, judging by your ugly conk?’

  ‘Yes I am, indeed,’ replied the merchant, ‘and would not have it otherwise for all the goggles in Europe. Nor for all the spectacles in Africa.14 Because I have one of the most beautiful, most comely, most honourable and most proper wives15 in all the land of Saintonge; no offence to the others. As a present for her I’m bringing home from my voyage an eleven-inch red-coral stump. What’s that got to do with you? Why are you meddling in such matters? Who are you? Where do you come from, you goggle-man of Antichrist! Answer me, if you belong to God!’

  ‘What I want to know is this,’ said Panurge: ‘it by the consent and connivance of all the elements I had jiggedy-joggedy-tarty-fartied that O so beautiful, O so comely, O so honourable and O so proper wife of yours in such a manner that the erect god of the gardens Priapus (who dwells herein in freedom, quite exempt from any subjection to codpieces) were, through the malign influence of the stars, to remain eternally stuck inside her so that it could never come out but remain there for ever unless you yourself were to tug it out with your teeth, would you do it?16 Would you leave it there for all eternity or would you tug it out with those splendid teeth of yours? Answer me, you ram-beguiler of Mahomet,17 since you’re of the devils’ tribe.’

  ‘I,’ said the merchant, ‘would give you a slash from my sword on your bespectacled ear and slaughter you like a ram!’

  So saying, he went to unsheathe his sword, but it was stuck in its scabbard. (As you know all arms and armour quickly grow rusty at sea on account of the excessive and nitrous humidity.)

  Panurge scuttled over to Pantagruel for help. Frère Jean put his hand to his newly whetted short-sword18 and would have savagely killed the merchant were it not that the ship’s master, as well as some other passengers, begged Pantagruel that no offence be committed aboard his vessel.

  And so Panurge and the merchant shook hands and gladly drank a toast to each other as a token of perfect reconciliation.

  How, once the wrangle was settled, Panurge haggles with Dindenault over one of his sheep

  CHAPTER 6

  [‘48:… How Panurge drowned the sheep and the merchant who was bringing them. Chapter 3.

  In ‘48 Panurge confides his plot secretly to Pantagruel and Frère Jean, a notion incompatible with the developed Pantagruel of the 1552 Fourth Book, so he is replaced here from the outset by Epistemon.

  Once more Rabelais turns part of his chapter into a farce, set out as for the trestles.]

  Once the wrangle was peacefully settled, Panurge said secretly to Epistemon and Frère Jean, ‘Draw away from here a little and merrily pass your time, enjoying what you shall see: a good bit of theatre, if the scenery-cords don’t snap. He then turned towards the merchant and at once drank a full goblet of Lanternese wine to him. The merchant then pledged him merrily and courteously. That done, P
anurge urgently begged him graciously to sell him one of his sheep.

  The merchant replied:

  ‘Alas, alas, friend of mine, and neighbour of ours, how well you know how to poke fun at poor wretches! A nice customer you are, truly! O what a bold buyer of sheep! Golly, you look like a cutter of purses not a buyer of sheep. By Sain-N’colas, old chap! No fun carrying a full purse near you in the Triperies when the thaw sets in! Ho, ho! You’d take anyone in, you would, provided he didn’t know you already! Just look at him, good folks. Cor! preening himself like an Historiographer Royal!’

  ‘Patience,’ murmured Panurge. ‘But while on the subject do, of your especial grace, sell me one of your sheep. How much?’

  ‘What can you mean, friend of mine and neighbour of ours?’ the merchant replied. ‘They’re long-haired sheep as on the coins. From the likes of them Jason derived his Golden Fleece, and the House of Burgundy their Order of Chivalry. These are Oriental sheep, tall-timbered and highly fattened.’

  ‘Maybe so,’ said Panurge, ‘but of your grace do sell me but one – I plead for no more – and I shall pay for it in Occidental coins, squat-timbered and low-fattened.’

  [‘Neighbour of ours, friend of mine,’ the merchant replied, ‘listen a bit with your other car!’

  PAN: I am yours to command.

  MERCH: You’re on your way to Lanternland?

  PAN: Indeed.

  MERCH: To see the world?

  PAN: Indeed.

  MERCH: Right merrily?

  PAN: Indeed.

  MERCH: Your name, I believe, is Robin Muttonhead!

  PAN: It pleases you to say so.

  MERCH: Take no offence!

  PAN: None taken.

  MERCH: You are, I believe, the king’s fool.

  PAN: Indeed.

  MERCH: Ha! ha! Let’s shake on it: you’re off to see the world; you’re the king’s fool; and you’re called Robin Muttonhead! See that mutton over there? It’s called Robin, just like you. Robin, Robin, Robin. Baa, baa, baa, baa! What a lovely voice!

  PAN: Very lovely. And tuneful.

  MERCH: Let there be a pact between me and you, our neighbour and friend. You – Robin Muttonhead – will stand on this pan of my scales and Robin, my own mutton, in the other. And I wager one hundred Arcachon oysters that in weight, worth and quality it’ll tip you up sharp and high, just as you’ll be strung up and hanged one of these days!

  ‘Patience,’ said Panurge. ‘But you would do much for me and for your progeny if you were to agree to sell me that one, or else some other one lodged lower down in your choir-stalls. I beg you to do so, my Sire and Lord.’]

  ‘Friend of ours,’ replied the merchant, ‘neighbour of mine, fine cloth of Rouen will be made from the fleece of those sheep: compared with their fleece, skeins of Leicester wool are nothing but wadding. Fine morocco leather will be made from their hides and be passed off as Turkish morocco, Montélimart morocco or – at the very worst – Spanish morocco. From their guts will be made strings for fiddles and harps, strings that will sell as dear as any from Munich [or Aquila]. What do you think of that?’

  ‘If it please you to sell me one,’ said Panurge, ‘I shall kiss the bolt on your front door. Here’s ready money. How much?’

  While he said that, he was displaying his purse full of newly minted Henricus-coins.

  Wrangling between Panurge and Dindenault: continued

  CHAPTER 7

  [This chapter-division was added in ‘52.

  It was once widely believed that the holy relic of Charrou in Vienne (kept there in the Abbey) was a clipping of the foreskin of Christ. The translation here reflects that fact.]

  ‘Friend of mine,’ said the merchant, ‘and neighbour of ours, here is meat fit but for kings and princes. The flesh is so tender, so flavourful and so toothsome that it is aromatic balm. I am bringing them from a land wherein the pigs, God save us, feed but on plums, and the sows [when they lie in (saving the honour of all the company)] only on orange blossom.’

  ‘Yet sell me one of them,’ said Panurge, ‘and I will royally pay for it, foot-soldier’s honour! How much?’

  ‘Friend of ours,’ said the merchant, ‘and neighbour of mine; these are sheep descended from the same race as the ram which bore Phryxus and Helle over that sea called the Hellespont.’

  [‘A plague on you,’ said Panurge, ‘you must be either a don or an undergraduate!’

  ‘Ita (meaning cabbage) and vere (meaning leeks)’19 replied the merchant. But brr, brrr, brrrr, brrrrr; ho! Robin! brr, brrrrrrr. You can’t understand that language! Incidentally,] throughout the fields where those sheep have piddled, the corn flourishes as though God himself had piddled there. No need of further marl nor muck. More! From their urine the alchemists make the best saltpetre in the world. With their droppings – do excuse me – the physicians of our land cure seventy-eight kinds of illnesses, the least of which is the malady of Saint Dropsy of Saintes, from which God preserve and keep us! What do you make of that, neighbour of ours and friend of mine? And they cost me a goodly sum.’

  [‘They can cost what you like,’ replied Panurge. ‘Sell me one and I’ll pay a good price.’

  ‘Friend of ours,’ said the merchant, ‘and neighbour of mine, just reflect for a while on the marvels of Nature which dwell within these beasts which you behold: why even in a member which you would judge to be of no use! Take those horns there and pound them a while with an iron pestle (or poker: it’s all the same to me). Then sow them wherever you will in full sun, watering them often. After a few months you will find asparagus shoots springing up, the best in the world: and I would not deign to except even those from Ravenna. Try and tell me that the horns of Messieurs the Cuckolds like you have virtues and miracle-working properties like that!’

  ‘Patience,’ said Panurge.

  ‘I don’t know whether you are a scholar,’ said the merchant, ‘but I’ve known many a scholar – I mean important ones – who were cuckolds. Yes indeed. By the way, if you were a scholar you’d know that there lies within the lowest limbs of these divine beasts – in their feet, that is, – bones, namely heels (the astragali, if you prefer): with them alone, or else with bones from no other beasts save the asses of India and the gazelles of Libya, they used in ancient times to play the royal game of tali, at which the Emperor Octavian won 50,000 crowns in a single evening. Cuckolds like you haven’t a hope of winning that much!’

  ‘Patience,’ said Panurge. ‘But let’s get on with it!’

  ‘And,’ said the merchant, ‘when shall I ever have sufficiently praised for you (friend of ours, and neighbour of mine) their inward parts, their shoulders, their thighs, their legs, their ribs, their breasts, their livers, their spleens, their tripes, their guts, their bladders (with which we play ball), their spare-ribs (from which in Pigmy-land they make little bows for shooting cherrystones at cranes); their heads (from which, with a little sulphur added, men make a wonder-working concoction for loosening the bowels of hounds suffering from constipation).’]

  ‘Oh pooh, pooh,’ said the ship’s master to the merchant. ‘Too much patter. Sell him one if you want to, and if you don’t, stop stringing him along.’

  ‘I do want to,’ said the merchant, ‘out of my love for you. But he shall pay three Tournois pounds for each one he selects.’

  ‘That’s a lot of money,’ said Panurge. ‘In our part of the world I’d get five or even six for the same number of pence. Reflect whether it mayn’t be too much. You’re not the first man I know who, wanting to get rich too quick and to reach the top, has tumbled backwards into poverty – even indeed breaking his neck.’

  [‘Catch a strong quartan fever!’ said the merchant, ‘you stupid clodpole. By the holy foreskin at Charroux, the least of these sheep is worth four times more than the best of those which the Coraxians of Tuditania (a part of Spain) used to sell for one golden talent apiece.

  ‘And what do you think a golden talent was worth, you overpaid ninny?’

  ‘Revered
Sir, I can see and cell that you are getting hot under your armour!’ said Panurge. ‘All right, then: take it. There’s your money.’]

  Having paid the merchant, Panurge selected from the entire flock a lovely big sheep and dragged it away bleating and belling while the other sheep all bleated together, watching where their companion would be taken.

  Meanwhile the merchant said to his mutton-mongers, Our client knew how to choose al) right! He knows what he’s about, the old lecher. Really – I mean, really and truly – I was saving that one for the Seigneur de Cancale, knowing his character as I do. For by nature he is merry and bright when he has a comely and becoming shoulder of mutton in his fist, holding it like a left-handed racket and fencing at it (God knows!) with a sharp carving knife.’

  How Panurge drowned the merchant and his sheep in the sea

  CHAPTER 8

  [This chapter heading and division was added in ‘52.

  A well-known comic tale masterly retold. The conte owes much to Folengo’s Macaronics. Aristotle’s opinion that sheep are the silliest and most stupid of creatures was widely known through an adage of Erasmus: III, I, XCV, ‘The manners of sheep’.

  After all the laughter, the ‘52 addition at the very end, with its citing of ‘Vengeance is mine said the Lord’, is another indication that Rabelais is now confronting the moral implications of the comedy of cruelty of which he was master. The text cited is from Deuteronomy 32:35, quoted more than once in the New Testament, including Romans 12:19.]

  Suddenly (I don’t know how: it all happened at once and I had no time to take it in) Panurge, without further ado, cast his sheep, bleating and belling, into the sea. All the other sheep, likewise bleating and belling with similar tones, started to cast themselves headlong into the sea one after another, all pressing to find out which could be the first to jump in after their companion.