Rabelais is a most wonderful writer. Pantagruel is the Reason; Panurge the
Understanding,--the pollarded man, the man with every faculty except the
reason. I scarcely know an example more illustrative of the distinction
between the two. Rabelais had no mode of speaking the truth in those days
but in such a form as this; as it was, he was indebted to the King's
protection for his life. Some of the commentators talk about his book being
all political; there are contemporary politics in it, of course, but the
real scope is much higher and more philosophical. It is in vain to look
about for a hidden meaning in all that he has written; you will observe
that, after any particularly deep thrust, as the Papimania[1] for example,
Rabelais, as if to break the blow, and to appear unconscious of what he has
done, writes a chapter or two of pure buffoonery.
He, every now and then, flashes you a glimpse of a real face from his magic
lantern, and then buries the whole scene in mist. The morality of the work
is of the most refined and exalted kind; as for the manners, to be sure, I
cannot say much.
Swift was _anima Rabelaisii habitans in sicco_,--the soul of Rabelais
dwelling in a dry place.
Yet Swift was rare. Can any thing beat his remark on King William's motto,
--_Recepit, non rapuit_,--"that the receiver was as bad as the thief?"
[Footnote 1:
B. iv. c. 48. "Comment Pantagruel descendit en l'Isle de Papimanes." See
the five following chapters, especially c. 50.; and note also c. 9. of the
fifth book; "Comment nous fut monstré Papegaut à grande difficulté."--ED.]
* * * * *
The effect of the Tory wits attacking Bentley with such acrimony has been
to make them appear a set of shallow and incompetent scholars. Neither
Bentley nor Burnet suffered from the hostility of the wits. Burnet's
"History of his own Times" is a truly valuable book. His credulity is
great, but his simplicity is equally great; and he never deceives you for a
moment.
_June_ 25. 1830.