Chapter 4.XXIV.

How Panurge was said to have been afraid without reason during the storm.

Good morrow, gentlemen, said Panurge; good morrow to you all; you are in

very good health, thanks to heaven and yourselves; you are all heartily

welcome, and in good time. Let us go on shore.--Here, coxswain, get the

ladder over the gunnel; man the sides; man the pinnace, and get her by the

ship’s side. Shall I lend you a hand here? I am stark mad for want of

business, and would work like any two yokes of oxen. Truly this is a fine

place, and these look like a very good people. Children, do you want me

still in anything? do not spare the sweat of my body, for God’s sake.

Adam--that is, man--was made to labour and work, as the birds were made to

fly. Our Lord’s will is that we get our bread with the sweat of our brows,

not idling and doing nothing, like this tatterdemalion of a monk here, this

Friar Jack, who is fain to drink to hearten himself up, and dies for fear.

--Rare weather.--I now find the answer of Anacharsis, the noble philosopher,

very proper. Being asked what ship he reckoned the safest, he replied:

That which is in the harbour. He made a yet better repartee, said

Pantagruel, when somebody inquiring which is greater, the number of the

living or that of the dead, he asked them amongst which of the two they

reckoned those that are at sea, ingeniously implying that they are

continually in danger of death, dying alive, and living die. Portius Cato

also said that there were but three things of which he would repent: if

ever he had trusted his wife with his secret, if he had idled away a day,

and if he had ever gone by sea to a place which he could visit by land. By

this dignified frock of mine, said Friar John to Panurge, friend, thou hast

been afraid during the storm without cause or reason; for thou wert not

born to be drowned, but rather to be hanged and exalted in the air, or to

be roasted in the midst of a jolly bonfire. My lord, would you have a good

cloak for the rain; leave me off your wolf and badger-skin mantle; let

Panurge but be flayed, and cover yourself with his hide. But do not come

near the fire, nor near your blacksmith’s forges, a God’s name; for in a

moment you will see it in ashes. Yet be as long as you please in the rain,

snow, hail, nay, by the devil’s maker, throw yourself or dive down to the

very bottom of the water, I’ll engage you’ll not be wet at all. Have some

winter boots made of it, they’ll never take in a drop of water; make

bladders of it to lay under boys to teach them to swim, instead of corks,

and they will learn without the least danger. His skin, then, said

Pantagruel, should be like the herb called true maiden’s hair, which never

takes wet nor moistness, but still keeps dry, though you lay it at the

bottom of the water as long as you please; and for that reason is called

Adiantos.

Friend Panurge, said Friar John, I pray thee never be afraid of water; thy

life for mine thou art threatened with a contrary element. Ay, ay, replied

Panurge, but the devil’s cooks dote sometimes, and are apt to make horrid

blunders as well as others; often putting to boil in water what was

designed to be roasted on the fire; like the head-cooks of our kitchen, who

often lard partridges, queests, and stock-doves with intent to roast them,

one would think; but it happens sometimes that they e’en turn the

partridges into the pot to be boiled with cabbages, the queests with leek

pottage, and the stock-doves with turnips. But hark you me, good friends,

I protest before this noble company, that as for the chapel which I vowed

to Mons. St. Nicholas between Quande and Montsoreau, I honestly mean that

it shall be a chapel of rose-water, which shall be where neither cow nor

calf shall be fed; for between you and I, I intend to throw it to the

bottom of the water. Here is a rare rogue for you, said Eusthenes; here is

a pure rogue, a rogue in grain, a rogue enough, a rogue and a half. He is

resolved to make good the Lombardic proverb, Passato el pericolo, gabbato

el santo.

The devil was sick, the devil a monk would be;

The devil was well, the devil a monk was he.

Gargantua and Pantagruel · 第 427 / 516 章