‘Can you doubt it!’ said Get-a-lot. ‘Not a month goes by without their having some. And it is not as in your lands, where the branch bears fruit but once a year.’47
As we were leaving in order to be escorted through hundreds of other small presses, we espied another person, a little hangman surrounded by five or six of those grubby Ignorants as fractious as a donkey with a squib stuck to its rump. In the language of their country they were called Courractors.48 They were putting the dry lump of the bunches through again, after having squeezed out the others.
‘They are the grimmest rogues I have ever seen,’ said Frère Jean. We went from the great press through innumerable little ones crammed with vendangeurs who were raking through the grapes with tools which they called items of account. Eventually we came to a low building, where we saw a two-headed hound with the belly of a wolf and the claws of a stage-devil at Lamballe; it was delicately fed on milk from fines. Such was the ordinance of My Lords, for there was not one of them to whom it did not bring in the equivalent of the rent of a good tenant farm.
In the Ignorants’ tongue it was called Double-it.
Near by was its dam, similar in coat and shape, except that she had four heads, two male, two female. Her name was Quadruple-it. It was the fiercest and most dangerous beast in the place, except for the grand-dam we saw shut up in a cage. Her name was Fees Overdue.
Frère Jean, who still had over twenty yards of empty innards yearning for a fricassée of lawyers, was beginning to get cross; he begged Pantagruel to think of dinner, and to bring along Get-a-lot. So, as we left by the back door, we came across an old man bound in chains; half a scholar and half an Ignorant, he was a mongrel devil, decked out with spectacles as a tortoise is with scales. He lived on one kind of food only, called in their tongue Audit-it.
At the sight of that protonotoriety Pantagruel asked what brood he belonged to and what he was called. Get-a-lot told us how he had been kept there in chains from ancient times, to the deep displeasure of My Lords, who all but starved him to death, and that his name was Review-the-Books.
‘By the Pope’s holy bollocks,’ said Frère Jean, ‘there’s a good jigger for you: and I am not at all amazed if My Lords the Ignorants take full account of that bacon-papper! By God, it seems to me, friend Panurge, that, if you look at him closely, he has the look of a Catty-claws. Ignorant as they are, they know as much about him as anyone does. I would send him back where he comes from, after a good walloping with an eel-hide lash.’
‘By my spectacles from the Orient,’ said Panurge, ‘you are right, Frère Jean, my friend. For, judging from the physog of that false villain Audit-it, he is even more ignorant and wicked than these wretched Ignorants here, who do the least harm they can: they gather in the grapes without lengthy lawsuits; in three little words, they strip the vine-close but without all those adjourments and muck-scourings. And that makes the Furry-cats so angry.’
End of the Voyage of the Ringing Isle.
APPENDIX 3: CHAPTER 32 BIS
How the Lanternese Ladies were served at supper
CHAPTER 32 BIS
[The following chapter is to be found in the manuscript of the Fifth Book. It is now conventionally referred to as 32 bis. It does not appear in the printed text.
There are untranslatable puns in the first paragraph: between sentent si bon (smell so good) and ante-cibum (Latin, pronounced the Trench way, for pills to be taken ‘before a meal’); the word used for barley-water, ‘pétassine’, is a deformation of ptisanne, its first syllable distorted to evoke pet, (fart).
The note in the manuscript after ‘Then were served’ is in curious Latin: ‘Servato in 4 libr Panorgum ad nuptias’. It is apparently intended to mean ‘Use in the 4th book, Panurge: at the marriage.’
The patter at the end of Chapter 38 of the Third Book ‘promised’ such a marriage, but such patter is not always a sign of things to come, as shown by the ends of the other Books and the contents of the Book which follows them.
Gaps in the manuscript are shown thus: […].
Unexplained or unknown foods are left as they are.
The list of dances is heavily indebted to the Disciple de Pantagruel, which was itself indebted to a macaronic book of Antonius de Arena, Ad suos compagniones studiantes bassas dansas, of which there were several editions in the sixteenth century.]
Rustic reeds together with Breton and Poitevin bagpipes resounded harmoniously and the food was brought in. To degrease her stomach the queen swallowed before the first course a spoonful of fartly-water in lieu of her smell-so-goods. Then were served:
[Use in the 4th book, Panurge: at the marriage.]
four quarters of the sheep which bore Helle and Phryxus over the straits of Propontis;
the two kids of the famous nanny-goat which suckled Jupiter;
the fawns of the doe Egeria who counselled Numa Pom-pilius;
six goslings hatched by the worthy ilmatic goose which saved the Tarpeian Rock in Rome by her cries;
pigs of the sow […];
the calf of Ino the cow badly guarded of yore by Argus; the lung of the fox which Neptune […] Julius Pollux in On Dogs;
the swan into which Jupiter metamorphosed himself out of love for Leda;
the ox Apis of Memphis in Egypt, who refused his fodder from Caesar Germanicus; also the six beeves rustled by Cacus and recovered by Hercules;
the two young roebucks which Corydon recovered for Alexis;
the wild boar of the Erymanthus, Olympian and Caledonian;
the genitals of the bull so beloved by Pasiphaë;
the stag into which Actaeon was transformed;
the liver of Calixto the she-bear;
savoury tidbits;
fools’ snares;
horse-chaps;
nightmares vinaigrette;
worrycows;
tasty morsels from Eastangourre;
nonsense pasties;
fine turds, tweak-nose style;
aucbares de mer;
choice-greyhound pie;
pro-dung from the best meat;
ribs of boar;
prime-chews;
brégizollons;
Switzers’ By-Gods!;
prelinginingues;
snakeweed rolls;
mortified cock-chasers;
high-tree genabins;
starabillatz;
corméabotz;
horn-up-arses dressed in turnips;
black gendarmes;
jerangois;
germander hotpot;
burning sighs;
Athenian rump;
brébasenas;
left-overs;
chinfenaux;
boil-biscuits;
volepuginges;
blunderlets;
shitlets;
wonder-bacon bitlets;
crock-pies.
For the second course there were served dishes of:
Swiss hundert-punders;
inter-duchies;
fox-tail-duster delight;
Saint Anthony’s nuts;
wanton hares;
bandyélivagues, served rare;
Levantine red mushrooms;
Western threadbare mutterings;
fartaradine;
notrodilles;
collared bullfarts;
squirts-in-breeches;
donkey suet;
hairy scumber;
monkish quims;
bubbles;
spopondriloches
leave-me-in-peaces;
get-thee-out-of-theres;
push-him-out-yourselfs;
clap-your-hands;
Saint Balleran;
épiboches;
tipsy-lime;
March squalls;
trifles;
stiff-stuff;
smubrelotz;
I-swear-by-my-lifes;
Hurtalis;
kneaded-doughlets;
ancrastabotz;
blubber-blabs;
; marabires;
gosh’s holybloods;
whatnots;
bugbears;
maralipes;
stitched bum-stirrings;
whoops;
marmaladeries in a fine strong-piss;
muvver-of-goshes;
Croquinpédingues;
tintalois;
foot-in-the-doors;
chinfrenaux;
ace of spades pastry-noses;
Balm-Sundays;
whip-lashings;
mistletoe necks
For the last course there were offered dishes of:
spiced senna-gogs;
thingumajigs;
junkets of bum-wipings;
sandal-sole soup;
dickory-dockeries;
mock greedy-girls;
hucquemâches;
hey nonny nonnies;
the snows of yesteryear (of which there are an abundance in Lanternland);
merry grigs;
dirty-filths;
mirelaridaines;
mizenas;
grésamines (delicious fruits);
little Maries;
small chidlings;
piedebillories;
flybum mix;
puffs-up-my-bum;
ugly dials;
tritrepolus;
befaibenus;
donkey-brains;
drawfartlets;
cockerelets;
coqilles bétissons;
chews;
din-of-scolds.
For dessert there was brought in a full platter of Shit drench with blossoming turds, that is, a full platter of White honey covered with a wimple of crimson silk.
Their drink came in windpipe-ticklers – beautiful antique vessels – and they drank nothing but quantities of oleaginous Greek wine, a pretty unpleasant tipple to my taste, but in Lanternland it is a deifying cup on which they get drunk just like human beings, so much so that I saw a toothless old hag of a Lantern clad in parchment – a corporal over other Lanterns, young and also female – who cried out to the butlers, ‘Our lamps have gone out’.49 She was so drunk on that tipple that her life and her light were doused; Pantagruel was told that such lanternized female Lanterns often perished that way, especially when holding chapter-meetings.
Once supper was over and the trestles removed, the minstrels struck up even more harmoniously than before, and the queen then headed a double dance in which the male Falots50 and female Lanterns danced together. The queen then returned to her throne while the others, to the heavenly sound of the rustic pipes, joined in divers dances, including these. You might know their names:
Hold me tight, Martin,
It’s the fair Franciscan nun,
Upon the steps at Arras,
Bastienne,
The Brittany Round-dance,
Alas! And yet she is so fair,
Seven faces,
Revergasse,
The Toads and the Cranes,
The Marchioness,
If I have lost my pretty time,
The thorn,
Most wrong it is,
Frisky,
Too dark am I,
Of my sad grief,
When I recall,
The galliard,
The gout,
Vexed by his wife,
The maiden gay,
The ill-wed wife from Provence,
La pamine,
Catherine,
Saint Roc,
Sancerre,
Nevers,
Fair Picardy,
The suffering maid,
Never can I ought without her,
Curé, come and dance,
I stay alone,
I’m a Cabin-boy from Biscay Bay,
Enter the fool,
Come Christmas-tide,
Warm yourselves upon the steps,
The rudder,
Come to the banished maiden,
Foix,
Greenery,
Princess of love,
The heart is mine,
The heart is good,
Enjoyment,
Châteaubriant,
Butter fresh!,
Off she goes!,
The duchy,
Free from care,
Jacqueline,
The great alas,
Such pain have I,
My heart shall be,
La signora,
Fair glance,
Perrichon,
Despite the danger,
The great regrets,
Beneath the little bush’s shade,
The pain that wounds me to the heart,
The floral maid,
Brother Pierre,
Be off, regrets,
Each noble city,
Thrust not it all,
The lamb’s lament
The Spanish ball,
’Tis simply to give me leave to go,
My cunt a catchpole has become,
Wait not a mickle or a muckle,
The renown of a wandering man,
My sweeting, what has she become?
Waiting for the grace,
In her no longer faith have I,
With plaints and tears I congee take,
Out you come from there, Guillot!,
Love has caused me such displeasure,
The patience of the Moor,
The sighs of the colt,
I know not why,
Let us do it, do it now,
Black and sun-tanned,
The fair French maid,
That is my thought,
O loyal hope!,
My pleasure it is,
Fortune,
The allemande,
My lady’s thoughts,
Think ye all of the fear,
Wrongly, fair maiden,
I know not why,
Alas, what has my heart done unto thee?,
O God! What a wife had I,
The hour has come for my complaint,
My heart to love shall be,
What is good, it seems to me,
Born in a happy hour was he,
The squire’s lament,
This letter’s sadness,
The tall German lad,
For having fulfilled my lover’s desire,
Yellow mantles,
The must pressed from the vine,
Entire like is she,
Cremona,
The mercer-maid,
The tripe-maid,
My children,
The false semblance,
La Valentinoise,
Wrongly did Fortune,
Testimony,
Calabria,
L’estrac,
Affaires de cœur,
Hope,
Young Robin,
Sad pleasure,
Rigoron pirouy,
Fledgling,
Biscay,
She who feels pain,
You know what!,
How good it is,
The small alas,
On my return,
No longer do I,
Poor soldier-boys,
The scyther,
’Tis not a game,
O Beauty!,
My queen, I thank thee,
Patience,
Navarre,
Jacques Bourdain,
Rouhaut the Strong,
Noblesse,
Quite to the contrary,
Cabbages,
The ill is mine,
Sweet my Beloved,
The heat,
The châteaux,
The gillyflower,
Go to me,
Swear ye the price,
Night,
Adieu! I’m off,
Good governance,
My sonnet,
Pampeluna,
They have lied,
My Joy!,
Beautiful cousin,
She is returning,
By halves,
All the goods,
As you shall like it,
&nb
sp; Since in my love I wretched be,
To the greenwood,
All colours above,
Above ‘twas when,
Now is it good to love,
My pleasant fields,
My pretty heart,
Fair foot, fair eye,
Ah! shepherd maiden, my beloved,
The spinstresses,
Pavane,
Alas! And yet you are so fair,
The daisy,
Now good it is,
Wool,
Time past,
The pretty wood,
Comes now the hour,
Most dolorous, he,
Strike now that ancient air,
Hedges.
I also saw them dancing to songs of Poitou sung by a Falot-light from Saint-Maixent or by a mighty yawner from Parthenay-le-Veil. Now you should note, you drinkers, that all was proceeding merrily, and that those courteous Falot-lights were showing off their legs of wood. Towards the end, a nightcap was brought us and the queen showed her generosity by means of draughts of fartly-water. To be our guide she then offered us the choice of any one of her Lanterns we liked. We selected as our choice the Lantern who had been great Maître Pierre Amy’s amie, whom I had once had the good fortune of knowing. She recognized me too. She seemed to us to be the most alluring, the most learned, the most astute, the most accomplished, the most human, the most debonair and, of all the company, the most suitable one to guide us. We, having humbly thanked that lady the queen, were escorted right up to our ship by seven young dancing Falots, while bright Diana already shed her beams.
As we were leaving the palace I heard the voice of a crooked-legged Falot saying that one single Good evening was worth more than all the Good mornings there ever were, be they as numerous as all the chestnuts used to stuff geese since the days of Ogyges’ great flood, giving us to understand that there is nothing like the night-time for having good fun, when Lanterns are set out accompanied by their noble Falot-Lights. On such good fun the Sun can never cast a favouring eye, as is witnessed by Jupiter: when he lay with Alcmene, the mother of Hercules, he caused the Sun to hide herself for two days, having just discovered the furtive affair of Mars and Venus.
1. Robert Southey, The Doctor, & c, (in chapters VI P.1 and XVII P.1 in that work’s idiosyncratic numbering). Homer’s Margites is known only from allusions, fragments and quotations.
2. Charles Lamb: The Essays of Elia: essay ‘Of the Artificial Comedy of the last Century’.
3. In this edition each chapter of Rabelais is preceded by an Introduction designed to clear the way. That allows footnotes to be reduced to a minimum.
4. William Hazlitt, Lectures on the English Comic Writers (Oxford University Press, 1907), pp. 34–5.
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