Gargantua and Pantagruel
we would have it, but thy holy will be done. The Lord and the blessed
Virgin be with us, said Panurge. Holos, alas, I drown; be be be bous, be
bous, bous; in manus. Good heavens, send me some dolphin to carry me safe
on shore, like a pretty little Arion. I shall make shift to sound the
harp, if it be not unstrung. Let nineteen legions of black devils seize
me, said Friar John. (The Lord be with us! whispered Panurge, between his
chattering teeth.) If I come down to thee, I’ll show thee to some purpose
that the badge of thy humanity dangles at a calf’s breech, thou ragged,
horned, cuckoldy booby--mgna, mgnan, mgnan--come hither and help us, thou
great weeping calf, or may thirty millions of devils leap on thee. Wilt
thou come, sea-calf? Fie; how ugly the howling whelp looks. What, always
the same ditty? Come on now, my bonny drawer. This he said, opening his
breviary. Come forward, thou and I must be somewhat serious for a while;
let me peruse thee stiffly. Beatus vir qui non abiit. Pshaw, I know all
this by heart; let us see the legend of Mons. St. Nicholas.
Horrida tempestas montem turbavit acutum.
Tempest was a mighty flogger of lads at Mountagu College. If pedants be
damned for whipping poor little innocent wretches their scholars, he is,
upon my honour, by this time fixed within Ixion’s wheel, lashing the
crop-eared, bobtailed cur that gives it motion. If they are saved for
having whipped innocent lads, he ought to be above the--
Chapter 4.XXII.
An end of the storm.
Shore, shore! cried Pantagruel. Land to, my friends, I see land! Pluck up
a good spirit, boys, ‘tis within a kenning. So! we are not far from a
port.--I see the sky clearing up to the northwards.--Look to the
south-east! Courage, my hearts, said the pilot; now she’ll bear the hullock
of a sail; the sea is much smoother; some hands aloft to the maintop. Put
the helm a-weather. Steady! steady! Haul your after-mizen bowlines. Haul,
haul, haul! Thus, thus, and no near. Mind your steerage; bring your
main-tack aboard. Clear your sheets; clear your bowlines; port, port. Helm
a-lee. Now to the sheet on the starboard side, thou son of a whore. Thou
art mightily pleased, honest fellow, quoth Friar John, with hearing make
mention of thy mother. Luff, luff, cried the quartermaster that conned the
ship, keep her full, luff the helm. Luff. It is, answered the steersman.
Keep her thus. Get the bonnets fixed. Steady, steady.
That is well said, said Friar John now, this is something like a tansy.
Come, come, come, children, be nimble. Good. Luff, luff, thus. Helm
a-weather. That’s well said and thought on. Methinks the storm is almost
over. It was high time, faith; however, the Lord be thanked. Our devils
begin to scamper. Out with all your sails. Hoist your sails. Hoist.
That is spoke like a man, hoist, hoist. Here, a God’s name, honest
Ponocrates; thou art a lusty fornicator; the whoreson will get none but
boys. Eusthenes, thou art a notable fellow. Run up to the fore-topsail.
Thus, thus. Well said, i’ faith; thus, thus. I dare not fear anything all
this while, for it is holiday. Vea, vea, vea! huzza! This shout of the
seaman is not amiss, and pleases me, for it is holiday. Keep her full
thus. Good. Cheer up, my merry mates all, cried out Epistemon; I see
already Castor on the right. Be, be, bous, bous, bous, said Panurge; I am
much afraid it is the bitch Helen. It is truly Mixarchagenas, returned
Epistemon, if thou likest better that denomination, which the Argives give
him. Ho, ho! I see land too; let her bear in with the harbour; I see a
good many people on the beach; I see a light on an obeliscolychny. Shorten
your sails, said the pilot; fetch the sounding line; we must double that
point of land, and mind the sands. We are clear of them, said the sailors.
Soon after, Away she goes, quoth the pilot, and so doth the rest of our
fleet; help came in good season.
By St. John, said Panurge, this is spoke somewhat like. O the sweet word!
there is the soul of music in it. Mgna, mgna, mgna, said Friar John; if
ever thou taste a drop of it, let the devil’s dam taste me, thou ballocky
devil. Here, honest soul, here’s a full sneaker of the very best. Bring
the flagons; dost hear, Gymnast: and that same large pasty jambic,
gammonic, as you will have it. Take heed you pilot her in right.
Cheer up, cried out Pantagruel; cheer up, my boys; let us be ourselves
again. Do you see yonder, close by our ship, two barks, three sloops, five
ships, eight pinks, four yawls, and six frigates making towards us, sent by
the good people of the neighbouring island to our relief? But who is this
Ucalegon below, that cries and makes such a sad moan? Were it not that I
hold the mast firmly with both my hands, and keep it straighter than two
hundred tacklings--I would--It is, said Friar John, that poor devil
Panurge, who is troubled with a calf’s ague; he quakes for fear when his
belly’s full. If, said Pantagruel, he hath been afraid during this
dreadful hurricane and dangerous storm, provided (waiving that) he hath
done his part like a man, I do not value him a jot the less for it. For as
to fear in all encounters is the mark of a heavy and cowardly heart, as
Agamemnon did, who for that reason is ignominiously taxed by Achilles with
having dog’s eyes and a stag’s heart; so, not to fear when the case is
evidently dreadful is a sign of want or smallness of judgment. Now, if
anything ought to be feared in this life, next to offending God, I will not
say it is death. I will not meddle with the disputes of Socrates and the
academics, that death of itself is neither bad nor to be feared, but I will
affirm that this kind of shipwreck is to be feared, or nothing is. For, as
Homer saith, it is a grievous, dreadful, and unnatural thing to perish at
sea. And indeed Aeneas, in the storm that took his fleet near Sicily, was
grieved that he had not died by the hand of the brave Diomedes, and said
that those were three, nay four times happy, who perished in the
conflagration at Troy. No man here hath lost his life, the Lord our
Saviour be eternally praised for it! but in truth here is a ship sadly out
of order. Well, we must take care to have the damage repaired. Take heed
we do not run aground and bulge her.
Chapter 4.XXIII.
How Panurge played the good fellow when the storm was over.
What cheer, ho, fore and aft? quoth Panurge. Oh ho! all is well, the storm
is over. I beseech ye, be so kind as to let me be the first that is sent
on shore; for I would by all means a little untruss a point. Shall I help
you still? Here, let me see, I will coil this rope; I have plenty of
courage, and of fear as little as may be. Give it me yonder, honest tar.
No, no, I have not a bit of fear. Indeed, that same decumane wave that
took us fore and aft somewhat altered my pulse. Down with your sails; well
said. How now, Friar John? you do nothing. Is it time for us to drink
now? Who can tell but St. Martin’s running footman Belzebuth may still be
hatching us some further mischief? Shall I come and help you again? Pork
and peas choke me, if I do heartily repent, though too late, not having
followed the doctrine of the good philosopher who tells us that to walk by
the sea and to navigate by the shore are very safe and pleasant things;
just as ‘tis to go on foot when we hold our horse by the bridle. Ha! ha!
ha! by G--, all goes well. Shall I help you here too? Let me see, I will
do this as it should be, or the devil’s in’t.
Epistemon, who had the inside of one of his hands all flayed and bloody,
having held a tackling with might and main, hearing what Pantagruel had
said, told him: You may believe, my lord, I had my share of fear as well
as Panurge; yet I spared no pains in lending my helping hand. I considered
that, since by fatal and unavoidable necessity we must all die, it is the
blessed will of God that we die this or that hour, and this or that kind of
death. Nevertheless, we ought to implore, invoke, pray, beseech, and
supplicate him; but we must not stop there; it behoveth us also to use our
endeavours on our side, and, as the holy writ saith, to co-operate with
him.
You know what C. Flaminius, the consul, said when by Hannibal’s policy he
was penned up near the lake of Peruse, alias Thrasymene. Friends, said he
to his soldiers, you must not hope to get out of this place barely by vows
or prayers to the gods; no, ‘tis by fortitude and strength we must escape
and cut ourselves a way with the edge of our swords through the midst of
our enemies.
Sallust likewise makes M. Portius Cato say this: The help of the gods is
not obtained by idle vows and womanish complaints; ‘tis by vigilance,
labour, and repeated endeavours that all things succeed according to our
wishes and designs. If a man in time of need and danger is negligent,
heartless, and lazy, in vain he implores the gods; they are then justly
angry and incensed against him. The devil take me, said Friar John,--I’ll
go his halves, quoth Panurge,--if the close of Seville had not been all
gathered, vintaged, gleaned, and destroyed, if I had only sung contra
hostium insidias (matter of breviary) like all the rest of the monking
devils, and had not bestirred myself to save the vineyard as I did,
despatching the truant picaroons of Lerne with the staff of the cross.
Let her sink or swim a God’s name, said Panurge, all’s one to Friar John;
he doth nothing; his name is Friar John Do-little; for all he sees me here
a-sweating and puffing to help with all my might this honest tar, first of
the name.--Hark you me, dear soul, a word with you; but pray be not angry.
How thick do you judge the planks of our ship to be? Some two good inches
and upwards, returned the pilot; don’t fear. Ods-kilderkins, said Panurge,
it seems then we are within two fingers’ breadth of damnation.
Is this one of the nine comforts of matrimony? Ah, dear soul, you do well
to measure the danger by the yard of fear. For my part, I have none on’t;
my name is William Dreadnought. As for heart, I have more than enough
on’t. I mean none of your sheep’s heart; but of wolf’s heart--the courage
of a bravo. By the pavilion of Mars, I fear nothing but danger.
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