– Octavian Augustus, the second Emperor of Rome, once came across a peasant named Eutyche (that is, Fortunate) who was leading an ass named Nicon (Greek for Victory); encouraged by the meanings of those names, both that of the driver and that of his ass, he was convinced of a complete success, happy issue and victory.
– Vespasian, also an Emperor of Rome, was alone one day, praying in the temple of Serapis, when, at the sight and sudden appearance of one of his servants called Basilides (that is Royal) whom he had left far behind ill, he began to have certain hope of ruling over Rome.
– And Regilianus was elected Emperor by his soldiers for no other cause or reason than the regal meaning of his proper name.
See the Cratylus of the inspired Plato.’
(‘By my thirst,’ said Rhizotome, ‘I would like to read it: I hear you frequently citing it.’)
‘See how the Pythagoreans concluded by reason of names and numbers that Patroclus had to be killed by Hector; Hector, by Achilles; Achilles, by Paris; Paris, by Philoctetes.
‘I am amazed when I reflect on that wonderful discovery of Pythagoras who, from the odd or even number of the syllables in any proper name, could indicate on which side of the body a person was lame, hunchbacked, one-eyed, gout-legged, paralysed, pleuritic or suffering from any other natural infirmity, i.e., by assigning the even number to the left side; the uneven, to the right.’
‘Indeed,’ said Epistemon. ‘During a general procession at Saintes, I saw that fact corroborated in the presence of that good, virtuous, learned and fair presiding judge Briand Valée, the Seigneur Du Douhet: whenever a man or woman processed by who was lame, one-eyed or hunchbacked, their proper names were reported to him. At once, without seeing them, he declared that they were infirm, one-eyed, lame or hunchbacked on the right side if their names were of an odd number of syllables; on the left when the number was even. And it was true: we came across no exception.’
‘From that discovery,’ said Pantagruel, ‘scholars have concluded:
– that the kneeling Achilles was wounded by the arrow of Paris in the right heel, for his name is of an uneven number of syllables; (and here we can note that the Ancients used to kneel on their right knee;)
– that Venus was wounded by Diomedes before Troy in her left hand; since her name in (Greek has four syllables;
– that it was Vulcan’s left leg which was lame by the same reasoning;
– that Philip, King of Macedonia, and Hannibal were both blind in their right eyes.
‘We could also, by this reasoning of Pythagoras, determine cases of sciatica, hernia and those migraines which afflict one side of the body only.
‘But to get back to proper names, just think how that mighty son of King Philip of whom we have already spoken – Alexander the Great – succeeded in one of his enterprises by interpreting one word. He was besieging the fortress town of Tyre; over several weeks he gave it the most mighty battering that he could, but quite in vain: his siege-machines and mines profited him nothing; everything he did was at once undone or repaired by the people of Tyre. He therefore took the decision to raise the siege (greatly depressed, since he saw his disengagement as a weighty blow to his reputation). Worried and distressed he fell asleep. During that slumber he dreamt that a satyr was inside his tent, leaping and prancing on its goat-legs. Alexander tried to catch it: the satyr always got away. Finally the king drove it into a corner and pounced on him. At that point he awoke; he told the philosophers and the sages of his Court about his dream and was informed that the gods were promising him victory and that Tyre would soon be taken: for if you divide the word satyros into two, sa and Tyros, that signifies Thine is Tyre. And indeed, at the very next assault which he made he took the town by force and, in a great victory, subdued that rebellious people.
‘But consider how the meaning of a single name brought Pompey, on the contrary, to despair. Being vanquished by Caesar in the battle of Pharsalia, he had no means of safety but in flight. And so, fleeing by sea, he struck land on the island of Cyprus: near the town of Paphos he could make out a beautiful and luxurious palace near the shore. On asking the pilot its name, he heard that it was Kakobasileia, that is, Bad King. That name inspired him with such fear and loathing that he sank into despondency, sure that he would escape only to lose his life. The seamen and the others near him heard his cries, sighs and groans. And indeed, soon afterwards an unknown peasant called Achillas lopped off his head. Whilst on this subject, we could further cite what happened to Lucius Paulus Aemilius when, by the Roman Senate, he was elected Imperator (that is, the Commander-in-chief) of the forces which they were despatching against Perses, the King of Macedonia. That very day he returned home to prepare for this departure and, on kissing his daughter Tratia, noticed that she was somewhat sad.
‘“What is it my dear Tratia?”he said, “Why are you so sad and upset?”
‘“Father,” she answered, “it’s Persa: she is dead.”
‘Persa was her name for the little puppy she delighted in; and with that word, Paulus Aemilius became assured of victory over Perses.
‘If time allowed us to go carefully through the sacred Hebrew scriptures we would find several remarkable passages clearly showing in what religious reverence proper names and their meanings were held.’
Towards the end of this discourse the two colonels arrived, accompanied by their soldiers, all fully armed and fully resolute. Pantagruel gave them a brief word of encouragement, telling them to prove themselves valiant in the field (if, that is, they were really forced to fight, for he could not yet believe that the Chidlings were as treacherous as that) but forbade them to start the engagement. And the watchword he gave them was Mardi Gras.
That Chidlings are not to be despised by human beings
CHAPTER 38
[Mardi Gras is the watchword: the mock-heroic battle is soon to be joined fought out in the spirit of Shrovetide fun.
The quotation about the serpent who tempted Eve is taken from Genesis 3:9. Henry Cornelius Agrippa had published a Disputable Opinion suggesting that the serpent which tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden was in fact Adam’s penis.]
Here you are scoffing at me, you Drinkers, and do not believe in the truth of a word I am saying. I’ve no idea what I should do with you. Believe it if you will, and if you won’t, go there and see it for yourself: I know all right what I saw: the place was the Ile Farouche. There: I tell you its name. Now recall the might of those Giants of old who undertook to pile lofty Mount Pelion upon Ossa, and then with Ossa to enwrap the tree-shaded Olympus so as to fight the gods and drive them from their nests in the heavens. That might was neither ordinary might nor within the Mean. Yet those Giants were Chidlings for only half their bodies – or, to tell the truth, Serpents.
The serpent which tempted Eve was of Chidling stock; nevertheless it is written that it was ‘more wiley and subtle than any beast of the field’; so are the Chidlings. And it is still maintained in certain academic circles that the Tempter was a Chidling called Ithyphallus, into whom, long ago, was transformed good Messer Priapus, that great tempter of women in gardens (called paradises in Greek and jardins in French).
How can we be sure that the Switzers, a people now hardy and warlike, were not formerly Sausages? I shouldn’t like to swear to it, finger in pyre. The Himantopodes, a famous people in Ethiopia, are (according to the description in Pliny) nothing but Sausages. If those arguments do not allay the scepticism within you, then, my Lords, go straight away – after a drink, I mean – and visit Lusignan, Parthenay, Vouvant, Mervent and Pouzaugues in Poitou. There you will find long-renowned witnesses, all truly wrought, who will swear to you on the arm of Saint Rigomé that Melusina, their original foundress, had the body of a female down to her prick-wallet and that all the rest below was either a serpentine Chidling or a chidlingesque Serpent. Yet she had a fine and gallant step, still imitated today by Breton dancers when performing their tuneful floral-dances.
What caused Erichthonius to be the
first to invent coaches, litters and chariots? It was because Vulcan had begotten him with Chidlingesque legs, and the better to conceal them he preferred to go by litter than by horse, since already in his days Chidlings were not highly esteemed. Ora, the Scythian nymph, similarly had a body which was partly woman, partly Chidling, yet she appeared so fair to Jupiter that he lay with her and produced a handsome son called Colaxes.
So stop all that sneering now and believe that nothing is as true as the Gospel.
How Frère Jean allies himself with the kitchen-men to combat the Chidlings
CHAPTER 39
[In the Latin Vulgate Nebuzardan is, with Potiphar, a Captain of the Guard: in the Greek Septuagint he appears as a cook and so as a good mascot for the coming battle of kitchen-men and scullery-lads which will be fought with the tools of their trade and pots and pans. Mock-heroic elements are supplied by Genesis 39, II (IV) Kings 25 and by Erasmus in his Apophthegms, IV, Cicero, 19, after Plutarch.]
On seeing those zealous Chidlings marching forth so gaily, Frère Jean said to Pantagruel,
‘As far as I can see, this will be a fine battle of straw! Oh, what great honour and magnificent praise will our victory bring! I could wish that you were aboard your ship and merely a spectator of this conflict, leaving the rest to me and my men.’
‘What men?’ asked Pantagruel.
‘Breviary stuff,’ replied Frère Jean. ‘Why was Potiphar made the Master of the Horse of the whole kingdom of Egypt, he who was the master-chef in Pharaoh’s kitchens, who purchased Joseph and whom Joseph could have cuckolded if he had wanted to? Why was Nebuzardan, the master-chef of King Nebuchadnezzar, chosen from amongst all the other captains to lay siege to Jerusalem and to raze it to the ground?’
‘I’m listening,’ said Pantagruel.
‘By the game of Hole-my-lady,’ said Frère Jean, ‘I’d venture to swear that they had formerly fought against the Chidlings – or against folk as little esteemed as Chidlings are – since cooks are incomparably better fitted and suited to basting, lambasting, dominating and slicing them up than all the men-at-arms, Albanian hussars, mercenaries or foot-soldiers in the world.’
‘You bring freshly back to my memory,’ said Pantagruel, ‘something found written in the witty and amusing sayings of Cicero. During the Civil Wars between Pompey and Caesar, Cicero was naturally more inclined to the side of Pompey (despite being greatly courted and favoured by Caesar). Hearing one day that the followers of Pompey had suffered considerable losses in a particular engagement, he decided to visit their camp. There he found little strength, less courage and plenty of disorder. Foreseeing then that everything would go ill and to perdition (as did happen later) he began to jeer and to mock them all in turns with bitter and biting jests in the style of which he was master. At which some of the Captains tried to brave it out as though they were resolute and determined, saying to him, “See the number of Eagles we still have.” (The Eagle was then the Romans’ standard in times of war.) “That,” said Cicero, “would be all very well if you were waging war against magpies!”
‘And so, since we have to fight the Chidlings, you imply that it will be a culinary battle and that you wish to fall back on cooks. Do as you please. I shall stay here and await the issue of these fanfaronades.’
Frère Jean made at once for the kitchen tents and said to the cooks most merrily and courteously:
‘Today, my lads, I want to see you win honour and victory. Feats-of-arms shall be achieved by you such as have never yet been seen in living memory. Guts against guts! Do men take such little account of our valiant cooks? Let’s go and fight those Chidling whores. I shall be your captain. Drink on it, my friends. There now: Courage!’
‘Captain,’ the cooks replied, ‘you put it well: we are yours merrily to command! Under your leadership we are ready to live or die.’
‘To live, yes,’ said Frère Jean; ‘to die, certainly not! Dying is for Chidlings. So now: fall in! Your watchword will be Nebuzardan.’
How Frère Jean set up the Sow; and of the doughty cooks enclosed therein
CHAPTER 40
[The Great Sow recalls the Trojan Horse. The ‘Sow of La Réole’ was a kind of testudo armed with stone-throwing catapults and able to cover some hundred soldiers during the French attack on Bergerac in 1378 under Charles V (not VI), when the town was held by the English.
This chapter is largely devoted to lists of names of cooks. Some of the names are transposed: strictly literal translations drain away the fun.
Jews and half-converted Marranos avoid pork.
The inventor of the Sauce Madame is called Mondame in Franco-Scottish because of the difficulty Scots had with French genders (hence Mondame for Madame.]
Thereupon, at the orders of Frère Jean, the master engineers set up the Great Sow stored in the ship The Leathern Bottle. It was a wonderful contrivance; its ordnance consisted of huge ‘bollockers’ ranged in tiers, around it which catapulted big-bellied stone-shot and great square-headed arrows with steel flanges for feathers, while within its innards over two hundred men could easily join in the combat while remaining under cover. It was modelled on the Sow of La Réole, thanks to which Bergerac was taken from the English during the reign in France of the young King Charles the Sixth.
Here follows the list of the names of the doughty and valiant cooks who entered that Sow as into the Trojan Horse:
Spiced-stew,
Jackanapes,
Rapscallion,
Sloven,
Lardy Pork,
Dirty,
Mandrake,
Waste-bread,
Weary Willy,
Ladle,
Cods-in-wine,
Breton Pancakes,
Master Slops,
Arse-gut,
Pestle,
Lick-wine, Clerk of the Market,
Buttered Beans,
Goat-stew,
Grilled Steak,
Fried Tripe,
Hot-pot,
Pig’s Liver,
Scarface,
Gallimaufry.
As coats-of-arms, all those noble cooks bore on a field gules, a larding-needle ver, charged with a chevron argent, bend sinister.
Larding-bacon,
Rasher,
Sliced-bacon,
Chew-bacon,
Stretch-bacon,
Streaky-bacon,
Save-your-bacon,
Round-basting
Archbacon
Anti-bacon,
Frizzle-bacon,
Truss-bacon,
Scrape-bacon,
Mark-bacon,
Gay-bacon, a native of Rambouillet. Named by syncope, the full name of that Doctor of Culinary Arts being Gaybake-bacon. By syncope we similarly say idolater for idololater,
Crisp-bacon,
Self-basting bacon,
Sweet-bacon,
Crunch-bacon,
Catch-bacon,
Pack-bacon,
Spit-for-bacon,
Trim-bacon,
Fair-bacon,
Fresh-bacon,
Bitter-bacon,
Rolled-bacon,
Ogle-bacon,
Weigh-bacon,
Pipe-bacon,
Leech-bacon,
(Names unknown amongst Marranos and Jews.)
Big-balls,
Salad-man,
Cress-bed,
Scrape-turnip,
Pygghe,
Coney-skin,
Gleanings,
Pastry-cake,
Shave-bacon,
French-fritters,
Mustard-pot,
Sour-wine,
Porringer,
Bon-vivant,
Stupid,
Green-sauce,
Pot-nosed,
Pot-stand,
Stew-pot,
Shatter-pot,
Scour-pot,
Trembler,
Salt-gullet,
Snail-farm,
Vegetable-soups,
March-soup,
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Grilled-meats,
Rennet-monger,
Macaroons,
Stir-fire,
Crumbs. He was taken from the kitchen to serve the noble Cardinal Le Veneur as valet de chambre,
Spoil-roast,
Dishclout,
Little Biggin,
Smallcock,
Faircock,
Newcock,
Feathercock,
Cock-of-the-Walk,
Oldcock,
Tancock,
Hasty veal,
Short-rib,
Gigot-man,
Sour-milker,
Mountain-goat,
Bladder-blower,
Ray-fish,
Gabardine,
Booby,
Eye-wash,
Fop,
Slash-dial,
Freckles,
Mondame, the inventor of the Sauce Madame, hence his name in Franco-Scottish;
Chatterteeth,
Big-lips,
Mirelinger,
Woodcock,
Rinse-pot,
Blubber-mouth,
Hardly clean,
Codfish,
Waffle-maker,
Saffron-eater,
Tousle-hair,
Antitus,
Turnip-basher,
Rape-eater,
Black-pudding-man,
Bowling-jack,
Robert. He was the inventor of Sauce Robert, which is so good for you and so necessary for roast rabbit, duck, fresh pork, poached eggs, salted cod fish and hundreds of other similar viands,
Cold-eel,
Red-skate,
Gurnet,
Belly-rumbler,
Crumb-cake,
Swagger-guts,
Squirrel,
Cess-pit,
Hash,
Merry-rogue,
Soused-herring,
Cheese-cake,
Big-beak,
Tuck-in,
Tasty-bullock,
Artichoke-spear,
Sieve-salt,
Frying-pan,
Layabout,
Great Gourd,
Turnip-dresser,
Shyte,
Big-nails,
Squittered,
Gargantua and Pantagruel Page 79