his chief delight was in dogs. In hunting, his eagerness and pain were
equal to his pleasure, for his chase was the stag, which he always ran
down. He rose very early in the morning, rode sometimes a great
distance, and would not leave his sport, let the weather be never so
bad; and when he came home at night he was often very weary, and
generally in a violent passion with some of his courtiers or huntsmen;
for hunting is a sport not always to be managed according to the
master's direction; yet in the opinion of most people, he understood
it as well as any prince of his time. He was continually at these
sports, lodging in the country villages to which his recreations led
him, till he was interrupted by business; for during the most part of
the summer there was constantly war between him and Charles, Duke of
Burgundy, and in the winter they made truces; so that he had but a
little time during the whole year to spend in pleasure, and even then
the fatigues he underwent were excessive. When his body was at rest
his mind was at work, for he had affairs in several places at once,
and would concern himself as much in those of his neighbors as in his
own; putting officers of his own over all the great families, and
endeavoring to divide their authority as much as possible. When he was
at war he labored for a peace or a truce, and when he had obtained it
he was impatient for war again. He troubled himself with many trifles
in his government which he had better have left alone: but it was his
temper, and he could not help it; besides, he had a prodigious memory,
and he forgot nothing, but knew everybody, as well in other countries
as in his own.
And in truth he seemed better fitted to rule a world than to govern a
single kingdom. I speak not of his minority, for then I was not with
him; but when he was eleven years he was, by the advice of some of the
nobility and others of his kingdom, embroiled in a war with his
father, Charles VII, which lasted not long, and was called the
Praguerie. When he was arrived at man's estate he was married, much
against his inclination, to the King of Scotland's daughter; and he
regretted her existence during the whole course of her life.
Afterward, by reason of the broils and factions in his father's court,
he retired into Dauphiny (which was his own), whither many persons of
quality followed him, and indeed more than he could entertain. During
his residence in Dauphiny he married the Duke of Savoy's daughter, and
not long after he had great disputes with his father-in-law, and a
terrible war was begun between them.
His father, King Charles VII, seeing his son attended by so many good
officers and raising men at his pleasure, resolved to go in person
against him with a considerable body of forces, in order to disperse
them. While he was upon his march he put out proclamations, requiring
them all as his subjects, under great penalties, to repair to him; and
many obeyed, to the great displeasure of the Dauphin, who finding his
father incensed, tho he was strong enough to resist, resolved to
retire and leave that country to him; and accordingly he removed with
but a slender retinue into Burgundy to Duke Philip's court, who
received him honorably, furnished him nobly, and maintained him and
his principal servants by way of pensions; and to the rest he gave
presents as he saw occasion during the whole time of their residence
there. However, the Dauphin entertained so many at his own expense
that his money often failed, to his great disgust and mortification;
for he was forced to borrow, or his people would have forsaken him;
which is certainly a great affliction to a prince who was utterly
unaccustomed to those straits. So that during his residence at the
court of Burgundy he had his anxieties, for he was constrained to
cajole the duke and his ministers, lest they should think he was too
burdensome and had laid too long upon their hands; for he had been
with them six years, and his father, King Charles, was constantly
pressing and soliciting the Duke of Burgundy, by his ambassadors,
either to deliver him up to him or to banish him out of his dominions.
And this, you may believe, gave the Dauphin some uneasy thoughts and
would not suffer him to be idle. In which season of his life, then,
was it that he may be said to have enjoyed himself? I believe from his
infancy and innocence to his death, his whole life was nothing but one
continued scene of troubles and fatigues; and I am of opinion that if
all the days of his life were computed in which his joys and pleasures
outweighed his pain and trouble, they would be found so few that there
would be twenty mournful ones to one pleasant.
MARGUERITE D'ANGOULÊME
Born in France in 1492, died in 1549; sister of Francis I;
married in 1509 Due d'Alençon, and later Henri d'Albret,
King of Navarre; assumed the direction of government after
the death of the King in 1554; wrote poems and letters, the
latter published in 1841-42; her "Heptameron" modeled on the
"Decameron" of Boccaccio, published in 1558 after her death,
its authorship perhaps collaborative.
OF HUSBANDS WHO ARE UNFAITHFUL[10]
A little company of five ladies and five noble gentlemen have been
interrupted in their travels by heavy rains and great floods, and find
themselves together in a hospitable abbey. They while away the time as
best they can, and the second day Parlamente says to the old Lady
Oisille, "Madame, I wonder that you who have so much experience do not
think of some pastime to sweeten the gloom that our long delay here
causes us." The other ladies echo her wishes, and all the gentlemen
agree with them, and beg the Lady Oisille to be pleased to direct how
they shall amuse themselves. She answers them:
[Footnote 10: From the "Heptameron," of which a translation by R.
Codrington appeared in London in 1654.]
"My children, you ask of me something that I find very difficult,--to
teach you a pastime that can deliver you from your sadness; for having
sought some such remedy all my life I have never found but one--the
reading of Holy Writ; in which is found the true and perfect joy of
the mind, from which proceed the comfort and health of the body. And
if you ask me what keeps me so joyous and so healthy in my old age, it
is that as soon as I rise I take and read the Holy Scriptures, seeing
and contemplating the will of God, who for our sakes sent His son on
earth to announce this holy word and good news, by which He promises
remission of sins, satisfaction for all duties by the gifts He makes
us of His love, passion and merits. This consideration gives me so
much joy that I take my Psalter and as humbly as I can I sing with my
heart and pronounce with my tongue the beautiful psalms and canticles
that the Holy Spirit wrote in the heart of David and of other authors.
And this contentment that I have in them does me so much good that the
ills that every day may happen to me seem to me to be blessings,
seeing that I have in my heart, by faith, Him who has borne them for
me. Likewise, before supper, I retire, to pasture my soul in reading;
and then, in the evening, I call to mind what I have done in the past
day, in order to ask pardon for my faults, and to thank Him for His
kindnesses, and in His love, fear and peace I repose, assured against
all ills. Wherefore, my children, this is the pastime in which I have
long stayed my steps, after having searched all things, where I found
no content for my spirit. It seems to me that if every morning you
will give an hour to reading, and then, during mass, devoutly say your
prayers, you will find in this desert the same beauty as in cities;
for he who knows God, sees all beautiful things in Him, and without
Him all is ugliness....
"I beg you, ladies," continues the narrator, "if God give you such
husbands,[11] not to despair till you have long tried every means to
reclaim them; for there are twenty-four hours in a day in which a man
may change his way of thinking, and a woman should deem herself
happier to have won her husband by patience and long effort than if
fortune and her parents had given her a more perfect one." "Yes," said
Oisille, "this is an example for all married women."--"Let her follow
this example who will," said Parlamente: "but as for me, it would not
be possible for me to have such long patience; for, however true it
may be that in all estates patience is a fine virtue, it's my opinion
that in marriage it brings about at last unfriendliness; because,
suffering unkindness from a fellow being, one is forced to separate
from him as far as possible, and from this separation arises a
contempt for the fault of the disloyal one, and in this contempt
little by little love diminishes; for it is what is valued that is
loved."--"But there is danger," said Ennarsuite, "that the impatient
wife may find a furious husband, who would give her pain in lieu of
patience."--"But what could a husband do," said Parlamente, "save what
has been recounted in this story?"--"What could he do?" said
Ennarsuite, "he could beat his wife."...
[Footnote 11: That is, unfaithful husbands.]
"I think," said Parlamente, "that a good woman would not be so grieved
in being beaten out of anger, as in being contemptuously treated by a
man who does not care for her, and after having endured the suffering
of the loss of his friendship, nothing the husband might do would
cause her much concern. And besides, the story says that the trouble
she took to draw him back to her was because of her love for her
children, and I believe it."--"And do you think it was so very patient
of her," said Nomerfide, "to set fire to the bed in which her husband
was sleeping?"--"Yes," said Longarine, "for when she saw the smoke she
awoke him; and that was just the thing where she was most in fault,
for of such husbands as those the ashes are good to make lye for the
washtub."--"You are cruel, Longarine," said Oisille, "and you did not
live in such fashion with your husband."--"No," said Longarine, "for,
God be thanked, he never gave me such occasion, but reason to regret
him all my life, instead of to complain of him."--"And if he had
treated you in this way," said Nomerfide, "what would you have
done?"--"I loved him so much," said Longarine, "that I think I should
have killed him and then killed myself; for to die after such
vengeance would be pleasanter to me than to live faithfully with a
faithless husband."
"As far as I see," said Hircan, "you love your husbands only for
yourselves. If they are good after your own heart, you love them well;
if they commit toward you the least fault in the world, they have lost
their week's work by a Saturday. The long and the short is that you
want to be mistresses; for my part I am of your mind, provided all the
husbands also agree to it."--"It is reasonable," said Parlamente,
"that the man rule us as our head, but not that he desert us or
ill-treat us."--"God," said Oisille, "has set in such due order the
man and the woman that if the marriage estate is not abused, I hold it
to be one of the most beautiful and stable conditions in the World;
and I am sure that all those here present, whatever air they assume,
think no less highly of it. And forasmuch as men say they are wiser
than women, they should be more sharply punished when the fault is on
their side. But we have talked enough on this subject."
FRANÇOIS RABELAIS
Born in Touraine in 1495, died in Paris in 1553; educated at
an abbey and spent fifteen or more years as a monk; Studied
medicine in 1530 and practised in Lyons; traveled in Italy;
in charge of a parish at Meudon in 1550-52; composed
almanacs and edited old medical books; published
"Pantagruel" in 1533 and "Gargantua" in 1535, the success of
which led to several sequels, the last appearing in the year
of his death.
I
GARGANTUA IN HIS CHILDHOOD[12]
Gargantua, from three years to five, was nourished and instructed in
all proper discipline by the commandment of his father, and spent that
time like the other little children of the country,--that is, in
drinking, eating, and sleeping; in eating, sleeping, and drinking; and
in sleeping, drinking, and eating. Still he wallowed in the mire,
blackened his face, trod down his shoes at heel; at the flies he did
oftentimes yawn, and willingly run after the butterflies, the empire
whereof belonged to his father. He sharpened his teeth with a slipper,
washed his hands with his broth, combed his head with a bowl, sat down
between two stools and came to the ground, covered himself with a wet
sack, drank while eating his soup, ate his cake without bread, would
bite in laughing, laugh in biting, hide himself in the water for fear
of rain, go cross, fall into dumps, look demure, skin the fox, say the
ape's _paternoster_, return to his sheep, turn the sows into the hay,
beat the dog before the lion, put the cart before the horse, scratch
where he did not itch, shoe the grasshopper, tickle himself to make
himself laugh, know flies in milk, scrape paper, blur parchment, then
run away, pull at the kid's leather, reckon without his host, beat the
bushes without catching the birds, and thought that bladders were
lanterns. He always looked a gift-horse in the mouth, hoped to catch
larks if ever the heavens should fall, and made a virtue of necessity.
Every morning his father's puppies ate out of the dish with him, and
he with them. He would bite their ears, and they would scratch his
nose. The good man Grangousier said to Gargantua's governesses:
[Footnote 12: From Book I, Chapter XI, of "The Inestimable Life of the
Great Gargantua, Father of Pantagruel." The basis of all English
translations of Rabelais is the work begun by Sir Thomas Urquhart and
completed by Peter A. Motteux. Urquhart was a Scotchman, who was born
in 1611 and died in 1660. Motteux was a Frenchman, who settled in
England after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and was the
author of several plays. This translation has been called "one of the
most perfect that ever man accomplished." Other and later versions
have usually been based on Urquhart and Motteux, but have been
expurgated, as is the case with the passages given here. An earlier
version of "Pantagruel," published in London in 1620, was ascribed to
"Democritus Pseudomantio."
Rabelais, by common, consent, has a place among the greatest prose
writers of the world. In his knowledge of human nature and his
literary excellence, he is often ranked as inferior only to
Shakespeare. As an exponent of the sentiments and atmosphere of his
own time, we find in him what is found only in a few of the world's
greatest writers. That he has not been more widely read in modern
times, is attributed chiefly to the extraordinary coarseness of
language which he constantly introduces into his pages. This
coarseness is, in fact, so pervasive that expurgation is made
extremely difficult to any one who would preserve some fair remnant of
the original.]
"Philip, King of Macedon, knew the wit of his son Alexander, by his
skilful managing of a horse;[13] for the said horse was so fierce and
unruly that none durst adventure to ride him, because he gave a fall
to all his riders, breaking the neck of this man, the leg of that, the
brain of one, and the jawbone of another. This by Alexander being
considered, one day in the hippodrome (which was a place appointed for
the walking and running of horses), he perceived that the fury of the
horse proceeded merely from the fear he had of his own shadow;
whereupon, getting on his back he ran him against the sun, so that the
shadow fell behind, and by that means tamed the horse and brought him
to his hand. Whereby his father recognized the divine judgment that
was in him, and caused him most carefully to be instructed by
Aristotle, who at that time was highly renowned above all the
philosophers of Greece. After the same manner I tell you, that as
regards my son Gargantua, I know that his understanding doth
participate of some divinity,--so keen, subtle, profound, and clear do
I find him; and if he be well taught, he will attain to a sovereign
degree of wisdom. Therefore will I commit him to some learned man, to
have him indoctrinated according to his capacity, and will spare no
cost."
[Footnote 13: The famous horse Bucephalus is here referred to.]
Whereupon they appointed him a great sophister-doctor, called Maître
Tubal Holophernes, who taught him his A B C so well that he could say
it by heart backward; and about this he was five years and three
months. Then read he to him Donat, Facet, Theodolet, and Alanus _in
parabolis_. About this he was thirteen years, six months, and two
weeks. But you must remark that in the mean time he did learn to write
in Gothic characters, and that he wrote all his books,--for the art of
printing was not then in use. After that he read unto him the book "De
Modis Significandi," with the commentaries of Hurtebise, of Fasquin,
of Tropditeux, of Gaulehaut, of John le Veau, of Billonio, of
Brelingandus, and a rabble of others; and herein he spent more than
eighteen years and eleven months, and was so well versed in it that at
the examination he would recite it by heart backward, and did
sometimes prove on his fingers to his mother _quod de modis
significandi non erat scientia_. Then did he read to him the
"Compost," on which he spent sixteen years and two months, and that
justly at the time his said preceptor died, which was in the year one
thousand four hundred and twenty.
Afterward he got another old fellow with a cough to teach him, named
Maître Jobelin Bridé, who read unto him Hugutio, Hebrard's "Grécisme,"
the "Doctrinal," the "Parts," the "Quid Est," the "Supplementum";
Marmoquet "De Moribus in Mensa Servandis"; Seneca "De Quatour
Virtutibus Cardinalibus"; Passavantus "Cum Commento" and "Dormi
Securé," for the holidays; and some other of such-like stuff, by
reading whereof he became as wise as any we have ever baked in an
oven.
At the last his father perceived that indeed he studied hard, and that
altho he spent all his time in it, he did nevertheless profit
nothing, but which is worse, grew thereby foolish, simple, doted, and
blockish: whereof making a heavy regret to Don Philip des Marays,
Viceroy of Papeligose, he found that it were better for him to learn
nothing at all than to be taught such-like books under such
schoolmasters; because their knowledge was nothing but brutishness,
and their wisdom but toys, bastardizing good and noble spirits and
corrupting the flower of youth. "That it is so, take," said he, "any
young boy of the present time, who hath only studied two years: if he
have not a better judgment, a better discourse, and that exprest in
better terms, than your son, with a completer carriage and civility to
all manner of persons, account me forever a chawbacon of La Brène."
This pleased Grangousier very well, and he commanded that it should be
done. At night at supper, the said Des Marays brought in a young page
of his from Ville-gouges, called Eudemon, so well combed, so well
drest, so well brushed, so sweet in his behavior, that he resembled a
little angel more than a human creature. Then he said to Grangousier,
"Do you see this child? He is not as yet full twelve years old. Let us
try, if it pleaseth you, what difference there is betwixt the
knowledge of the doting dreamers of old time and the young lads that
are now."
The trial pleased Grangousier, and he commanded the page to begin.
Then Eudemon, asking leave of the viceroy, his master, so to do, with
his cap in his hand, a clear and open countenance, ruddy lips, his
eyes steady, and his looks fixt upon Gargantua, with a youthful
modesty, stood up straight on his feet and began to commend and
magnify him, first, for his virtue and good manners; secondly, for his
knowledge; thirdly, for his nobility; fourthly, for his bodily beauty;
and in the fifth place, sweetly exhorted him to reverence his father
with all observancy, who was so careful to have him well brought up.
In the end he prayed him that he would vouchsafe to admit of him
amongst the least of his servants; for other favor at that time
desired he none of heaven but that he might do him some grateful and
acceptable service.
All this was by him delivered with gestures so proper, pronunciation
so distinct, a voice so eloquent, language so well turned, and in such
good Latin, that he seemed rather a Gracchus, a Cicero, an Æmilius of
the time past than a youth of his age. But all the countenance that
Gargantua kept was that he fell to crying like a cow, and cast down
his face, hiding it with his cap; nor could they possibly draw one
word from him. Whereat his father was so grievously vexed that he
would have killed Maître Jobelin; but the said Des Marays withheld him
from it by fair persuasions, so that at length he pacified his wrath.
The Grangousier commanded he should be paid his wages, that they
should make him drink theologically, after which he was to go to all
the devils. "At least," said he, "to-day shall it not cost his host
much, if by chance he should die as drunk as an Englishman."
II
GARGANTUA'S EDUCATION[14]
Maître Jobelin being gone out of the house, Grangousier consulted with
the viceroy what tutor they should choose for Gargantua; and it was
betwixt them resolved that Ponocrates, the tutor of Eudemon, should
have the charge, and that they should all go together to Paris to know
what was the study of the young men of France at that time....
[Footnote 14: From Book I of "The Inestimable Life of the Great
Gargantua, Father of Pantagruel." The Urquhart-Motteux translation.]
Ponocrates appointed that for the beginning he should do as he had
been accustomed; to the end he might understand by what means, for so
long a time, his old masters had made him so foolish, simple, and
ignorant. He disposed, therefore, of his time in such fashion that
ordinarily he did awake between eight and nine o'clock, whether it was
day or not; for so had his ancient governors ordained, alleging that
which David saith, _Vanum est vobis ante lucem surgere_. Then did he
tumble and wallow in the bed some time, the better to stir up his
vital spirits, and appareled himself according to the season; but
willingly he would wear a great long gown of thick frieze, lined with
fox fur. Afterward he combed his head with the German comb, which is
the four fingers and the thumb; for his preceptors said that to comb
himself otherwise, to wash and make himself neat was to lose time in
this world. Then to suppress the dew and bad air, he breakfasted on
fair fried tripe, fair grilled meats, fair hams, fair hashed capon,
and store of sipped brewis.
Ponocrates showed him that he ought not to eat so soon after rising
out of his bed, unless he had performed some exercise beforehand.
Gargantua answered: "What! have not I sufficiently well exercised
myself? I rolled myself six or seven turns in my bed before I rose. Is
not that enough? Pope Alexander did so, by the advice of a Jew, his
physician; and lived till his dying day in despite of the envious. My
first masters have used me to it, saying that breakfast makes a good
memory; wherefore they drank first. I am very well after it, and dine
but the better. And Maître Tubal, who was the first licentiate at
Paris, told me that it is not everything to run a pace, but to set
forth well betimes: so doth not the total welfare of our humanity
depend upon perpetual drinking _atas_, _atas_, like ducks, but on
drinking well in the morning; whence the verse----
"'To rise betimes is no good hour,
To drink betimes is better sure.'"
After he had thoroughly broken his fast, he went to church; and they
carried for him, in a great basket, a huge breviary. There he heard
six-and-twenty or thirty masses. This while, to the same place came
his sayer of hours, lapped up about the chin like a tufted whoop, and
his breath perfumed with good store of sirup. With him he mumbled all
his kyriels, which he so curiously picked that there fell not so much
as one grain to the ground. As he went from the church, they brought
him, upon a dray drawn by oxen, a heap of paternosters of Sanct
Claude, every one of them being of the bigness of a hat-block; and
thus walking through the cloisters, galleries, or garden, he said more
in turning them over than sixteen hermits would have done. Then did he
study for some paltry half-hour with his eyes fixt upon his book; but
as the comic saith, his mind was in the kitchen. Then he sat down at
table; and because he was naturally phlegmatic, he began his meal with
some dozens of hams, dried meats' tongues, mullet's roe, chitterlings,
and such other forerunners of wine.