Gargantua and Pantagruel

by François Rabelais

  The people standing behind leaves of mint are liars, ‘mint’ in French being menthe, suggesting mentir, to tell lies.

  The famous mill at Bazacle on the Garonne is mentioned in Chapter 14 of Pantagruel.]

  Penetrating a little deeper into the land of tapestry we saw the Mediterranean Sea, parted and revealed to its uttermost depths just as the Red Sea in the Arabian Gulf parted to make a way for the Israelites to come out from Egypt. There I recognized Triton sounding his mighty horn, Glaucus, Proteus, Mereus and hundreds of other sea-gods and sea-monsters. We also saw an infinity of fish of various kinds: fish dancing, flying, flitting, fighting, eating, breathing, mating, hunting, skirmishing, laying ambushes, arranging truces, trading, swearing oaths and disporting themselves.

  In one corner near by we saw Aristotle standing and holding a lantern like the hermit usually painted close to Saint Christopher; he was contemplating, thinking and writing everything down. Ranged below him like bailiff’s witnesses were several other philosophers: Appian, Heliodorus, Athenaeus, Porphyry, Pancrates of Arcadia, Numenius, Posidonius, Ovid, Oppian, Olympius, Seleucus, Leonides, Agathocles, Theophrastus, Demostratus, Mutianus, Nymphodorus, Aelian and five hundred other men of leisure, as were Chrysippus, or Aristarchus of Sola who spent fifty-eight years doing nothing else but study bees.

  Amongst them I espied Peter Gilles, who, sample-bottle in hand, was in deep contemplation, examining the urine of those beautiful fish.

  After having long considered the land of Satin, Pantagruel said, ‘I have long here fed my eyes, yet I can in no wise eat my fill: my stomach is barking with a raging hunger.’

  ‘Let us feed, then,’ I said, ‘feed and taste those anacampserotes dangling down over there.’

  ‘Ugh! They are worthless!’

  So I plucked some myrobolans which were hanging down near the edge of a tapestry, but I could neither chew them nor swallow them. If you were to try them you would rightly say and swear that they were nothing but twisted silken-thread and had no taste whatsoever. You would have said that Heliogabalus had found in them (as in a transcript from some papal bull) the model of those feasts which he arranged for those whom he had long kept fasting with promises of enjoying eventually a sumptuous, copious, Imperial feast, then feeding them with foods made of wax, marble or clay, and painted in pictures or on table-linen.

  So while foraging in that land for something to eat we heard a grating, uncertain noise as of women doing their washing or as of the wooden clappers feeding grain to the mills at Bazacle near Toulouse. Without lingering any further we made our ways towards whence it came; there we saw a little old hunchback, misshapen and grotesque.

  His name was Hear-say.

  His maw was cloven to the ears; in his mouth were seven tongues; each tongue was slit: into seven parts. No matter what the subject, all seven spoke together, saying divers things in divers languages. He also had as many ears scattered over his head and body as Argus of old had eyes. In addition he was blind, with paralysis in his legs.

  I saw countless men and women around him, listening and attentive. Some whom I recognized in the troop were cutting fine figures: one of them was holding a map of the world which he was briefly explaining to them in short aphorisms; in no time they became learned scholars, and with a good memory for detail spoke about many marvels, to understand a hundredth part of which a man’s lifetime would not suffice: about the Pyramids, the Nile, Babylon, Troglodytes, Himantopodes, Blemmyae, Pygmies and Cannibals; about the Hyperborean Mountains, the Aegipans, and all the devils.

  And all from Hear-say.

  There I fancy I saw Herodotus, Pliny, Solinus, Berosus, Philostratus, Mela, Strabo and many other Ancients as well as Albertus Magnus the Dominican, Peter Martyr, Pope Pius the Second, Volaterranus, Paolo Giovio, Jacques Cartier (a brave man), Hayton of Armenia, Marco Polo the Venetian, Ludovico Romano, Pedro Alvarez, and I-know-not-how-many modern historians who write of handsome deeds whilst hiding behind a piece of tapestry.

  And all from Hear-say.

  Behind a piece of tapestry embroidered with leaves of mint I saw a number of men from Perche and Le Mans standing close to Hear-say; they were good students and quite young. Upon asking in which Faculty they were studying, we heard that, from their youth upwards, they were learning to be witnesses, earning so much money by their profession that, from the time they left their province to the time they came back, they made a decent living from the witnessing-trade, bearing sure witness to anything at all for those who paid most for a day’s work.

  And all from Hear-say.

  Think what you like about them, but they gave us some hunks of their bread and we drank from their barrels. It was good cheer. Then they gave us heartfelt advice: if we wanted to rise in the courts of great noblemen, to be as economical as possible of the truth.

  How we descried Lanternland

  CHAPTER 31

  [Echoes of the four books and of the Disciple de Pantagruel. The erudition, as so often, is from Pliny.]

  Poorly fed and entertained in the land of Satin, we sailed for three days; on the fourth we happily drew near to Lanternland. As we did so we saw little lights flitting over the sea; I for my part thought they were not Lanterns but fish with flaming tongues gliding out of the water and glowing, or else those glow-worms which you call cicindellas shining out there as they do in my part of the world at eventide when the barley is ripening. But our pilot assured us that they were Lanterns-of the-Guard who were doing the rounds and reconnoitring the outskirts while escorting a few foreign Lanterns who were like good Franciscans or Jacobins on their way to take their seats at their Provincial Chapter. We still wondered however whether they were signs of a storm, but he stood by what he had said.

  How we landed at the port of the Lychnobians and entered Lanternland

  CHAPTER 32

  [This chapter shows debts to Lucian’s True History and to the Disciple de Pantagruel.

  The Lychnobians are known from an adage of Erasmus, IV, IV, LI, ‘Lychnobii (those who live by lamplight)’, that is, either by studying or drinking late into the night. The Latins knew that Greek word from Seneca (Epistle, 122, 16. Here the dominant meaning is of ‘something to do with Lantern. They are apparently male, living off the female Lanterns.

  ‘The Lanterns of Aristophanes and of Cleanthes’ are proverbial. They constitute an adage of Erasmus (I, VII, LXXII), which also mentions the famous lamp of Epictetus, which Lucian tells us an ignoramus purchased after his death. (The Ignorant Book-collector, 13.)

  To lantern, lanterner, is always open to jokes and plays on words, since as well as suggesting lamps it suggests lechery, the female sexual organ and sexual frolics generally.

  ‘Obeliscolychny’, here personified, is a word taken over from the Fourth Book, Chapter 22.]

  We at once entered the port of Lanternland. There, on a high lighthouse tower, Pantagruel recognized the Lantern of La Rochelle, who was sending us clear light. We also saw the Lanterns of Pharos, of Nauplion and of the Acropolis of Athens, sacred to Pallas. Hard by the harbour is a small village inhabited by the Lichnobians, who are folk who live off Lanterns just as in our land lay brothers live off nuns. They are studious and decent people. It was there that Demosthenes once lanterned about. From that place we were escorted as far as the palace by three Obeliscolychnies, who formed the military guard of the harbour, wearing tall hats as Albanians do. We expounded to them the reasons for our voyage and our determination to obtain from the Queen of Lanternland a Lantern to enlighten us and guide us throughout the voyage which we were making to the oracle of La Bouteille. They promised to do so right gladly, adding that we had arrived there at a good and opportune moment for making a sound choice of a Lantern, since those ladies were then holding there their Provincial Chapter.

  On arriving at the palace, we were presented by two Lanterns, namely the Lanterns of Aristophanes and of Cleanthes, Lan-terns-of-Honour to the queen to whom Panurge briefly expounded in Lanternese the objects of our voyage.
We received a kind welcome from her and a command to be present at her supper in order to choose more easily the one whom we would like for our guide.

  That greatly pleased us and we were not slack, carefully noting and considering every detail in their gestures, dress and deportment as well as in the way table was served.

  The queen was dressed in clear crystal and in encrusted damask-work studded with great diamonds. Lanterns of the blood-royal were clad either in translucent stones or paste; the others were clad in horn, paper or oiled cloth. The same applied to the Falots, the Fire-baskets, according to their rank and the antiquity of their families. I noticed only one made of earthenware: she, who looked like a pot, ranked amongst the most gorgeous. Astonished by it, I learnt that she was the Lantern of Epictetus; they had once refused to part with her for three thousand drachmas.

  I carefully studied the modish accoutrements of Polymix, the Lantern of Martial, and even more Eicosimyx, consecrated of old by Canopa, the daughter of Tisias.28

  I especially noted Pensila, the lantern formerly taken from the temple of Apollo Palatine in Thebes and subsequently removed to the city of Cyme in Aeolia by Alexander the Conqueror.

  I noted another one which was outstanding because of a beautiful tuft of crimson silk which she wore on her head; I was told that she was Bartolus, the Light of the Law. I noted two others who were outstanding on account of the clyster-bags they wore on their belts. I was told that they were the two Luminaries of the apothecaries, the Great and the Lesser.

  When the hour for supper arrived, the queen sat down in the place of honour, and the others in order of rank and dignity. As an entrée, big moulded candles were served, except that the queen was served with a fat, erect, flaming torch of white wax, a little red round the tip. The Lanterns of the blood-royal were also treated differently from the others, as was the Provincial Lantern of Mirebeau for whom a candle of walnut-oil was served, and as was the Provincial Lantern of Bas Poitou whom I saw served with a candle bearing a coat-of-arms. Lord only knows what light they thereafter produced with their wicks.

  There is an exception at this point: a number of girl Lanterns chaperoned by a fat one: they did not shine as the others did but emitted what seemed to me to be pale, straw-tumbling colours.29

  After supper we retired to rest. The following morning the queen made us choose one of the most outstanding Lanterns for our guide. And thus we took our leave.

  How we arrived at the oracle of La Bouteille

  CHAPTER 33

  [A Bacchic chapter but one which tramples drunkenness underfoot. Guillaume Bigot, whose name (probably) appeared corrupted as ‘Brigot in Chapter 18, moved in the circle of the Du Bellays.

  That Frère Jean calls the last book of the Bible not the Apocalypse but Revelation is out of character. The title ‘Revelation’ is usually either learned or Reformed. The allusion is to Revelation 12:1.]

  With our noble Lantern lighting us and leading us, we arrived entirely happy at the longed-for isle on which was the oracle of La Bouteille. Panurge jumped ashore, raised a merry leg in a jig, and said to Pantagruel:

  ‘Today we have that, at last, which we have sought with so much moil and toil.’

  He then courteously commended himself to our Lantern. She bade us all be of good hope and never fear no matter what appeared before us. As we drew near to the temple of the Dive Bouteille we had to pass through a big vineyard planted with vines of many wines, such as Falernian, Malmsey, Muscadet, Tabbia, Beaune, Mirevaux, Orleans, Picardan, Arbois, Coussy, Anjou, Graves, Corsican, Verron, Nérac and others. That vineyard was planted of old by good old Bacchus, with such a blessing that it bore leaf, blossom and fruit in all seasons like the orange-trees at Cyrene. Our splendid Lantern ordered us to eat three grapes apiece, to put vine-leaves in our shoes and to hold a green branch in our left hands. At the far end of the vineyard we passed under an ancient arch on which was delicately carved a memorial to a Drinker, consisting in one place of a long string of flagons, leathern bottles, glass bottles, flasks, barrels, demijohns, pots, pint mugs and antique jars hanging from a shaded trellis.

  In another place were great quantities of garlic, onions, shallots, hams, caviar, cheese tarts, smoked ox-tongues, mature cheeses and similar dainties all interlarded with vine leaves and industriously bound together with vine-stocks.

  In another place were hundreds of differently shaped glasses, such as glasses standing on stems, mounted glasses, goblets, tumblers, cups, jars, bowls, beakers and similar Bacchic artillery.

  On the façade of the arch, below the frieze, two lines of verse were incised:

  Traveller passing through this site

  Get a Lantern good and bright.

  ‘We have already provided for that,’ said Pantagruel, ‘for in the whole of Lanternland there is no Lantern better or more divinely favoured than ours.’

  That arch led to a beautiful and spacious arbour entirely composed of vine-stocks bedecked with grapes of five hundred different colours and five hundred different shapes, not natural ones but ones fashioned thus by the art of agriculture: they were yellow, blue, tawny, azure, white, black, green, violet, striped and variegated; long, round, triangular, bollockal, regal, bearded, snub-nosed, herbal. The end of the arbour was closed by three venerable ivy-bushes, most verdant and laden with berries. There our most illustrious Lantern bade us each make for himself an Albanian hat out of that ivy and to cover his entire head with it. Which was done without delay.

  ‘The pontiff of Jupiter,’ said Pantagruel, ‘would never have passed beneath that trellis in ancient times.’

  ‘There was a mystical reason for that,’ said our shining Lantern. For in going under it he would have had the wine – the grapes, that is – above his head, which would then appear subordinated and dominated by wine: meaning that pontiffs and all great persons who are devoted and dedicated to the contemplation of things divine must maintain their minds in tranquillity, beyond all sensual perturbations, which are more manifested in drunkenness than in any other passion there is. Seeing that you have passed under it, you too would never be admitted to the oracle of the Dive Bouteille were it not that Bacbuc, the noble pontiff, saw your shoes full of vine-leaves, which is an action totally and diametrically opposed to the above, and a sign that wine is despised by you, trampled upon and subjugated.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Frère Jean, ‘but I’m no scholar, yet I find in my Breviary that, in Revelation, a wondrous sight was seen: a woman with the moon under her feet. That, as was explained to me by Bigot, signifies that she was not of the same ilk or nature as other women who, on the contrary, all have the moon inside their heads and consequently have brains forever lunatic. Which leads me readily to believe what you say, my dear lady Lantern.’

  How we went below ground to enter into the temple of La Bouteille; and how Chinon isthe first town in the world

  CHAPTER 34

  [Chinon is the town of Rabelais’ pays which he publicly praised in the episode of Bollux in the Prologue to the Fourth Book. Some thought its foundation dated from the time of Cain, hence its ‘learned’ name, Caynon. (Cain ‘builded a city’ in Genesis 4:17 and named it after his son Enoch.)

  The imposing Cave Peinte at Chinon is now often used for ceremonies connected with Rabelais and wine. Here that ‘Fainted Cave’ is appropriately associated with Bacchus and Silenus.

  Phlox in Greek means flame.]

  We then went down below ground through an arbour daubed with plaster. On its outside surface were crude paintings of women and satyrs dancing in the company of old Silenus, laughing astride his donkey. There!’ I said to Pantagruel: ‘That entrance recalls to mind the Cave Peinte of the first town of the world, for there are similar paintings there of similar freshness.’

  ‘And where and what is that first town you speak of?’ asked Pantagruel.

  ‘Chinon,’ I said, ‘Otherwise Caynon, in Touraine.’

  ‘I know where Chinon is,’ said Pantagruel, ‘And the Cave Peinte as well:
I have drunk many a glass of cool wine in there. And I have no doubt whatsoever that Chinon is an ancient town: its escutcheon witnesses to it, on which it is said:

  Twice or thrice praise Chinon Town;

  Little city: great renown.

  Sited on an ancient Hoe,

  Woods above, the Vienne below.

  Yet how could it be the first town in the world? Where can you find that written down? Why such a conjecture?’

  ‘In Holy Writ I find that Cain was the first builder of towns. It is therefore probable that he called the first one after his own name just as, in imitation of him, all other founders and builders of towns have done, imposing their own names upon them: Athene (the Greek Minerva) did so for Athens; Alexander, for Alexandria; Constantine, for Constantinople; Pompey, for Pompeiopolis in Cilicia; Hadrian, for Hadrianopolis; Canaan, for the Canaanites; Sheba, for the Shebans; Assur, for the Assyrians; and similarly for Ptolomais, Caesaria, Tiberium and Herodium in Judaea.’

  While we were chatting thus there came forth the Great Flask – our Lantern called him Phlox – the commissioner of the Dive Bouteille; he was accompanied by the temple-guard who were all French Bottlemen. On seeing us bearing (as I said) our Bacchic staffs and crowned with ivy – recognizing also our famous Lantern – he let us safely in and commanded that we be brought at once before Princess Bacbuc, the Lady of Honour of La Bouteille and the Head Priestess of the Mysteries. Which was done.

  How we went down the Tetradic Steps; and of the fright which Panurge had

  CHAPTER 35

  [In mystical systems one rises or penetrates by ‘degrees’ (that is, by steps). Here those degrees are quite literally steps in a staircase. The Pythagorean number is four, the tetrad, as in the Third Book, Chapter 29.