Such opiate talk, and snore away the day,
By all his noise as much their minds relieves, As caterwauling of wild cats frights thieves. But Rabelais was another thing, a man
Made up of all that art and nature can Form from a fiery genius,--he was one Whose soul so universally was thrown Through all the arts of life, who understood
Each stratagem by which we stray from good;
So that he best might solid virtue teach,
As some 'gainst sins of their own bosoms preach:
He from wise choice did the true means prefer,
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In the fool's coat acting th' philosopher. Thus hoary Aesop's beasts did mildly tame Fierce man, and moralize him into shame; Thus brave romances, while they seem to lay Great trains of lust, platonic love display; Thus would old Sparta, if a seldom chance
Show'd a drunk slave, teach children temperance;
Thus did the later poets nobly bring
The scene to height, making the fool the king. And, noble sir, you vigorously have trod
In this hard path, unknown, un-understood
By its own countrymen, 'tis you appear Our full enjoyment which was our despair, Scattering his mists, cheering his cynic frowns
(For radiant brightness now dark Rabelais crowns),
Leaving your brave heroic cares, which must Make better mankind and embalm your dust, So undeceiving us, that now we see
All wit in Gascon and in Cromarty, Besides that Rabelais is convey'd to us, And that our Scotland is not barbarous.
J. De la Salle.
Rablophila.
The First Decade.
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The Commendation.
Musa! canas nostrorum in testimonium Amorum, Et Gargantueas perpetuato faces,
Utque homini tali resultet nobilis Eccho: Quicquid Fama canit, Pantagruelis erit.
The Argument.
Here I intend mysteriously to sing
With a pen pluck'd from Fame's own wing, Of Gargantua that learn'd breech-wiping king.
Decade the First.
I.
Help me, propitious stars; a mighty blaze
Benumbs me! I must sound the praise
Of him hath turn'd this crabbed work in such heroic phrase.
II.
What wit would not court martyrdom to hold
Upon his head a laurel of gold,
Where for each rich conceit a Pumpion-pearl is told:
III.
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And such a one is this, art's masterpiece, A thing ne'er equall'd by old Greece:
A thing ne'er match'd as yet, a real Golden Fleece.
IV.
Vice is a soldier fights against mankind; Which you may look but never find:
For 'tis an envious thing, with cunning interlined.
V.
And thus he rails at drinking all before 'em, And for lewd women does be-whore 'em,
And brings their painted faces and black patches to th' quorum.
VI.
To drink he was a furious enemy
Contented with a six-penny--
(with diamond hatband, silver spurs, six horses.) pie--
VII.
And for tobacco's pate-rotunding smoke,
Much had he said, and much more spoke,
But 'twas not then found out, so the design was broke.
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VIII.
Muse! Fancy! Faith! come now arise aloud,
Assembled in a blue-vein'd cloud,
And this tall infant in angelic arms now shroud.
IX.
To praise it further I would now begin
Were 't now a thoroughfare and inn,
It harbours vice, though 't be to catch it in a gin.
X.
Therefore, my Muse, draw up thy flowing sail,
And acclamate a gentle hail
With all thy art and metaphors, which must prevail.
Jam prima Oceani pars est praeterita nostri. Imparibus restat danda secunda modis.
Quam si praestiterit mentem Daemon malus addam, Cum sapiens totus prodierit Rabelais.
Malevolus.
(Reader, the Errata, which in this book are not a few, are casually lost;
and therefore the Translator, not having leisure to collect them again,
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craves thy pardon for such as thou may'st meet with.)
The Author's Prologue to the First Book.
Most noble and illustrious drinkers, and you thrice precious pockified blades (for to you, and none else, do I dedicate my writings), Alcibiades, in that dialogue of Plato's, which is entitled The Banquet, whilst he was setting forth the praises of his schoolmaster Socrates (without all question the prince of philosophers), amongst other discourses to that purpose, said that he resembled the Silenes. Silenes of old were little
boxes, like those we now may see in the shops of apothecaries, painted on the outside with wanton toyish figures, as harpies, satyrs, bridled geese, horned hares, saddled ducks, flying goats, thiller harts, and other
suchlike counterfeited pictures at discretion, to excite people unto
laughter, as Silenus himself, who was the foster-father of good Bacchus, was wont to do; but within those capricious caskets were carefully preserved and kept many rich jewels and fine drugs, such as balm, ambergris, amomon, musk, civet, with several kinds of precious stones, and other things of great
price. Just such another thing was Socrates. For to have eyed his outside,
and esteemed of him by his exterior appearance, you would not have given the peel of an onion for him, so deformed he was in body, and ridiculous in his gesture. He had a sharp pointed nose, with the look of a bull, and
countenance of a fool: he was in his carriage simple, boorish in his apparel, in fortune poor, unhappy in his wives, unfit for all offices in the commonwealth, always laughing, tippling, and merrily carousing to everyone, with continual gibes and jeers, the better by those means to conceal his
divine knowledge. Now, opening this box you would have found within it a
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heavenly and inestimable drug, a more than human understanding, an admirable virtue, matchless learning, invincible courage, unimitable sobriety, certain contentment of mind, perfect assurance, and an incredible misregard of all
that for which men commonly do so much watch, run, sail, fight, travel, toil
and turmoil themselves.
Whereunto (in your opinion) doth this little flourish of a preamble tend? For so much as you, my good disciples, and some other jolly fools of ease and leisure, reading the pleasant titles of some books of our invention, as Gargantua, Pantagruel, Whippot (Fessepinte.), the Dignity of Codpieces, of Pease and Bacon with a Commentary, &c., are too ready to judge that there is nothing in them but jests, mockeries, lascivious discourse, and
recreative lies; because the outside (which is the title) is usually,