Gargantua and Pantagruel

by François Rabelais

  [The comedy continues.

  Yellow and green are the traditional colours worn by fools and jesters.]

  ‘Four days later, another Chicanous, young, tall and skinny, came to serve a writ on Basché at the behest of the fat Prior. When he arrived he was at once recognized by the gate-keeper, and so the bell was tolled. At the sound of which all the folk in the castle were privy to the mystery. Loyre was kneading his dough; his wife was sifting the flour; Oudart was totting up his accounts; the gentlemen were playing tennis; the Seigneur de Basché was at cards, playing Three-hundred-and-three with his wife; the young ladies were playing with ivory knucklebones; the officers, at cards, were playing Imperial, whilst the pages were playing odds or evens with much flicking of fingers.

  ‘Suddenly they all realized that Chicanous was abroad. Oudart again donned his vestments, and Loyre and his wife fetched out their fine accoutrements; Trudon blew his flute and beat his drum; everyone was laughing and getting ready, with gauntlets to the fore.

  ‘Basché went down into his courtyard. Chicanous, when he met him, sank to his knees before him and begged him not to take it ill if he served him a writ on behalf of the fat Prior; he protested in an elegant speech that he was but an Officer of the Court, a Servant of Monkery, and a Sumner for the abbatial Mitre, ready to do as much for him – indeed for the least of his household – wherever it might please him to send or direct him.

  ‘“Truly,” said the Seigneur de Basché, “you will serve me no writ before you’ve had a drink of my good Quinquenais wine and joined in the wedding in which I am now engaged. (Sir Oudart: see that he has plenty to drink and cools himself down; then bring him into my Hall.) You are most welcome.”

  ‘Chicanous, once well fed and watered, entered the Hall with Oudart; there all the actors in the farce were by now in position and ready to go. On his arrival everyone began to smile and Chicanous laughed out of politeness; Oudart muttered some mysterious words over the Betrothed; they joined hands, the bride was kissed, and all were asperged with holy water.

  ‘Whilst the wine and spices were being brought in, buffets from fists began to trot about. Chicanous rained a few on Oudart. Oudart had his gauntlet hidden beneath his surplice; he had pulled it on like a mitten. Then Chicanous was whacked and Chicanous was thwacked, and from all sides blows from young gauntlets were showered upon Chicanous. “A wedding!” they all said, “a wedding! a wedding! And don’t you forget it!”

  ‘Chicanous was given such a good dressing-down that blood spurted from his mouth, nose, ears and eyes. In addition he was battered and shattered and hammered all over: head, neck, back, chest and arms. Believe you me, even at Carnival times in Avignon the young men never played more harmoniously at Winner-grabs-all than was played there that day at the expense of Chicanous.

  ‘Finally he fell to the ground.

  ‘They threw plenty of wine over his face, fastened a yellow and green motley to the sleeve of his doublet and set him upon his snotty old horse.

  ‘After he was back in L’lle-Bouchard, I don’t know whether he was well bandaged and nursed by his wife and the local leeches, but he has never been heard of since.

  ‘The next day – because no writ had been found in the bag or pouch of that skinny Chicanous – a similar event occurred.

  ‘On behalf of the fat Prior a fresh Chicanous was despatched to serve a writ on the Seigneur de Basché. Two bailiffs came along to protect him. The gate-keeper tolled his bell, making all the household rejoice as they learned that Chicanous had arrived.

  ‘Basché was at table, dining with his wife and the noblemen. He sent for Chicanous and made him sit by him and the bailiffs to sit down next to the young ladies. And they dined very well and merrily together.

  ‘At dessert Chicanous rose from his seat at the table and, in the presence and hearing of the bailiffs, served the writ on Basché. Basché courteously asked him for a copy of his warrant. It was ready to hand. The writ was formally served and, once everyone had withdrawn for the farce, four sun-crowns were bestowed on Chicanous and the bailiffs. Trudon began to beat his drum. Basché prayed Chicanous to come to the marriage of one of his serving-men and to formalize the marriage-contract (with the fee duly and satisfactorily paid).

  ‘Chicanous was courteous. He unstrapped his writing-case and, with the bailiffs standing by, promptly produced paper. Loyre comes into Hall through one door, his wife and bridesmaids through another, all attired for a wedding. Oudart, sacer-dotally vested, takes them by the hand, asks whether They Will, gives them his blessing without stinting the holy water. The marriage-contract is signed and sealed. From one side is brought in wine and spices; from another, an abundance of white and brown ribbons; and from yet another gauntlets are secretly produced.

  How ancient marriage customs are renewed by Chicanous

  CHAPTER 15

  [Rabelais delights in ‘Breton’ wine, which is a Touraine wine perhaps named after a vigneron.

  The so-called Christmas Saints, O and O are in fact the O-Anti-phons of Advent (O Wisdom! O Adonail O Stem of Jesse!, etc.).

  The ‘Philosopher of Samosata’ is Lucian. Rabelais refers to one of his best satires, The Symposium of the Lapiths, in which philosophers end up lambasting each other. Rabelais had relatives called Frappin through his maternal grandmother. Their name suggests frapper, to strike and leads to frappard, a tupping monk.]

  ‘Chicanous, after gulping down a large goblet of Breton wine, said to the Seigneur de Basché, “My Lord. What’s going on here? Aren’t we having a wedding? Oddsblood, all the good old customs are being lost! No more hares in their forms! No friends any more! Look how they’ve given up pledging in many a church those blessed Saints of Christmas, O and O! The world’s gone mad. It’s drawing to its end. Come on: a wedding! a wedding! a wedding!”

  ‘So saying he gave a buffet to Basché and his wife; then to the young ladies, and then to Oudart. Whereupon gauntlets so performed their exploits that Chicanous’ skull was shattered in nine places, one of the bailliffs had his arm put out of joint while the other had his jaw dislocated in such a fashion that it hung half-way down his chin, exposing his uvula and causing a notable loss of his teeth (molars, masticators and canines).

  ‘When the sound of the tambourine changed its note, gauntlets were hidden without their being in any way noticed. Amidst renewed rejoicing sweetmeats were again brought out in profusion. While all those good companions were all each drinking to each other and to Chicanous and his bailliffs, Oudart was cursing and inveighing against the wedding, alleging that one of the bailliffs had entirely desincornifistibulated his other shoulder, yet he was nevertheless happily drinking to him. The demandibled bailiff clasped his hands together and wordlessly begged forgiveness, being unable to talk.

  ‘Loyre complained that the bailiff with the shattered arm had given him such a great thwack with his fist on one of his elbows that he had become all maulocrippled-lowerhazarded in his heel. “But,” said Trudon, covering his left eye with his handkerchief and pointing at his drum, one side of which had been knocked in, “What harm have I done them? It was not enough for them to have gravely cowpatconked-windbagthrottled-thumptbumped-bangbong-shattered my poor old eye: they have knocked in my drum as well. Drums are regularly beaten at weddings: drummer-boys never: they are feasted! The devil can use mine for his head-gear.”

  ‘Chicanous, now short of one arm, said to him, “Brother, to patch up your drum I shall give you a lovely big old Letters-patent that I’ve got here in my pouch. And do, for God’s sake, forgive us. By that beautiful Lady, Our Lady of Rivière, I meant no harm.”

  ‘One of the esquires, staggering about and limping, gave an excellent imitation of the good and noble Seigneur de La Rochposay. He addressed the bailiff whose jaw was hanging down like a visor, saying, “Are you a Frappin, a Tapper or a Tupper? Wasn’t it enough for you to have shattersplattered-beggarbagged-pibrochdroned-cropperspondylitized all my upper limbs with great kicks from your heavy boots without giving us
such gnawgrips-trifletricks-muddledkettledrummeries on our shins with the sharp points of your shoes? Call this a youthful game! By God I’m not game!’

  ‘The bailiff, clasping his hands together, seemed to be begging forgiveness, mumbling with his tongue, mon, mon, mon, vrelon, von, von, like a monkey. The newly wedded bride laughed as she cried and cried as she laughed because Chicanous had not been satisfied with thumping her indiscriminately on her limbs but had severely ruffled her hair and, what is more, treacherously pubicfumbled-crimpywrinkled her private parts.

  ‘“The devil,” said Basché,, “has had a part in this. Was it really necessary that this Monsieur In-the-King’s Name (as Chicanous call themselves) should wallop me so on me poor old backbone. I wish him no harm, though. They are little nuptial caresses. But I can clearly see he cited me like an angel and then daubed me like a devil. He has a touch of the knocking friar about him. I drink to him with a very good heart. And to you too, Messieurs the Bailiffs!”

  ‘“But,” said his wife, “For what words or what quarrel did he treat me over and over again to great blows from his fists? The devil take him if I like it! But no: I don’t like it. By Jove I will say this about him, though, he has the hardest knuckles I’ve ever felt on my shoulders.”

  ‘The Steward had his left arm in a sling, as though entirely swaggerbattered. “It was the devil,” he said, “who got me to come to this wedding. By God’s virtue I have my arms all gulletbaggy-bumpcontused! Call this a wedding! I call it shit-shedding! In fact it’s the very banquet of the Lapiths described by the Philosopher from Samosata.”

  ‘Chicanous could no longer talk. The bailiffs apologized: they had no evil intention when landing their blows; in God’s name may they be forgiven. And so they departed.

  ‘About a half-league away Chicanous felt rather poorly. The bailiffs arrived at L’lle-Bouchard stating publicly that they had never seen a better man than the Seigneur de Basché nor a household more honourable than his, adding that never before had they been to such a wedding. But the fault was all on their side: they had started the punch-up. And they stayed alive for some few days more.

  ‘From that time forth it was taken as an established fact that the silver of Basché was more pestilential, mortal and pernicious to Chicanous and Bailiffs than ever was, in days of yore, the gold of Toulouse, or the horse of Sejus to him who owned it.29

  ‘Since then the said Seigneur has been left in peace, and “the Weddings of Basché” turned into a common saying.’

  How Frère Jean assayed the temperament of the Chicanous

  CHAPTER 16

  [After the opening two paragraphs of this chapter the original text of ‘48 picks up again. Several small changes are passed over here since they are minor and distracting, though we may note that Lucius Neratius at first had only one valet and that Frère Jean produces ten crowns not twenty.

  This Fourth Book of Pantagruel is still confronting the problem of the comedy of cruelty. The previous chapters have been full of laughter, yet how is laughter at pain and death to be reconciled with morality? Pantagruel, no agelast, does not laugh here, nor anywhere else until the very last page of the book. Nor did Frère Jean simply laugh at the end of Chapter 8, citing Scripture to make his point. Here Pantagruel starts off by alluding to Romans 3:18 or its source in Psalm 36. He does not cite it textually but turns a limited condemnation – ‘There is no fear of God before their eyes’ – into a general commandment.

  ‘To land someone with the monk “by the feet”‘ usually means to trick him while asleep by tying a string to his toe.]

  ‘That tale,’ said Pantagruel, ‘might seem funny were it not that we should ever have the fear of God before our eyes.’

  ‘It would have been better,’ said Epistemon, ‘if the blows from those young gauntlets had rained on that fat prior. He was laying out cash for his own amusement, partly to annoy Basché and partly to see his Chicanous beaten up. Blows from fists would have aptly bedight his tonsured pate, considering the violent extortions we see today amongst those puisne judges under the elm. What wrong had those poor devils of Chicanous ever done?’]

  ‘While on this subject,’ said Pantagruel, ‘I am reminded of a nobleman of Ancient Rome called Lucius Neratius. He belonged to a family which was at that time rich and noble. He was of such an overbearing character that whenever he went out of his palace he caused the wallets of his menservants to be filled with gold and silver coins;30 then, whenever he came across some mincing, spruced-up dandies in the street he would gaily punch them hard in the face without the slightest provocation. Immediately afterwards he would distribute his money amongst them to calm them down and stop them from bringing legal actions, thus satisfying and gratifying them in accordance with a law of the Twelve Tables. That is how he spent his income: by beating up people at the price of his money.’31

  ‘By Saint Benedick’s holy barrel,’ said Frère Jean, ‘I shall find out the truth of all that right away.’

  Whereupon he clambered ashore, put his hand into his money-bag and drew out twenty Sun-crowns. Then, with a loud voice, in the presence and hearing of a great multitude of Chicanousian people, he asked,32 ‘Who wants to earn twenty gold crowns by getting a hell of a beating?’ [‘Me! Me! Me!’ they all replied. You’ll knock us silly with your blows, Sir; that’s certain. But there’s a handsome profit in it.’] And so they all charged up, crowding round and trying to be the first to be so profitably beaten.

  From out of the whole crowd Frère Jean selected a Chicanous with a red nose who wore on the thumb of his left hand a big fat silver ring [in the bezel of which was mounted a very big toad-stone].

  Once he had selected him I saw the crowd of them grumbling;33 and I heard one [big,] young [, skinny] Chicanous (a good and clever scholar according to the common rumour, and a good man in the ecclesiastical courts) lamenting and protesting that old Red Snout was taking all their cases from them and that if there were but thirty thwacks from a cudgel going in all the land he always pocketed twenty-eight and a half of them. [Yet all those complaints and grumblings proceeded only from envy.] Frère Jean with his stave walloped Red-snout so very,34 very hard over his back, belly, arms, legs, head and everything else that I thought he had been battered to death. Frère Jean then gave him his twenty crowns, and there was my rascal back on his feet, as happy as a king or two.

  The other Chicanous said to Frère Jean, ‘Sir Brother Devil, if you would care to beat up a few more of us for less money we are all yours, bundles, papers, pens and all.’

  Red-snout yelled at them, loudly saying, ‘Corpus Chrikey, you layabouts! Stealing my trade? Trying to lure away and entice my clients. I shall cite you before the Diocesan judge,

  In a week from now,

  tow-row-row!

  I shall scratch you like a devil from Vauvert.’

  Then, turning a happy, laughing face towards Frère Jean, he said, ‘My Lord, my Reverend Father in Devil, if you have found me to be good value, and if you judge the bashing smashing, I’ll be satisfied with half the going rate. Spare me not, I pray you. I am, Monsieur le Diable, all yours – entirely: head, lungs, innards; the lot. I’m happy to tell you so.’

  Frère Jean interrupted what he was saying and drew aside. The other Chicanous resorted to Panurge, Epistemon, Gymnaste and others, devoutly imploring them to beat them up for a tiny sum of money, otherwise they risked being in for a very long fast.35 But none of them would listen.

  Later on, when we were scouting for fresh water with the oarsmen from the galleys we came across two local old female Chicanous, pitifully weeping and lamenting together. Pantagruel had remained aboard his vessel and had already sounded the bell to rejoin ship. We, suspecting that these old women were relatives of the Chicanous who had been subjected to the beatings,36 questioned them about the causes of such lamentations. They replied that they had a most equitable cause for weeping: that very hour two of the most decent men there ever had been in all the territories of the Chicanous had been landed wit
h the monk ‘by the neck’.

  ‘My pages,’ said Gymnaste, ‘land their sleeping comrades with the monk by their feet. To land the monk “by the neck” must mean to strangle a man by hanging.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Frère Jean, ‘yeah. You’re talking like Saint John of the Pocalypse.37 When those women were asked about the reasons for those hangings they replied that the men had stolen the irons of the Mass [and hidden them beneath the parish handle.’

  ‘What a terrible allegory that is,’ said Epistemon].38

  How Pantagruel called at the islands of Tohu and Bohu and of the curious death of Bringuenarilles, the swallower of windmills

  CHAPTER 17

  [Bringuenarilles as a swallower of windmills is borrowed from a book which Rabelais did not write: Panurge, Disciple de Pantagruel (1538, plus other editions sometimes with other names).

  Tohu bohu is the Hebrew term for chaos in Genesis 1:2.

  Hypostases and enaioremata are sediments and solid matter in urine. (Rabelais was content with the simple term ‘sediments’ in ‘48.)

  Rabelais knew his Plutarch well, but the reference to the Tace which appears on the surface of the Moon’ and its context are taken from an adage of Erasmus: I, V, LXIV, ‘What if the sky were to fall?’

  The reference to a certain ‘Bacabery I’aisne is intriguing, as the name of Rabelais appears in it as an anagram (Rabelais plus b c e y a n, not yet adequately explained.]

  That same day Pantagruel called at the two islands of Tohu and Bohu, where we found we had no fish to fry since Bringuenarilles, the great giant, had swallowed up all the pots, pans, saucepans, frying-pans, cauldrons, gravy-pans and dripping-pans, there being a dearth of the windmills he normally fed upon. And so it befell one day, a little before sunrise when food is digesting, that Bringuenarilles had been taken gravely ill from a raw stomach brought on (as the physicians say) by the fact that the concocting powers of his stomach, which were by nature appropriate to the ingestion of working windmills, had not been able perfectly to assimilate the frying-pans and the dripping-pans: he had coped very well though with the saucepans and the cauldrons.