Gargantua and Pantagruel
into the right ventricle of the heart; just so is the flowing of this
fountain, and by it a harmony ascends as high as your world’s ocean.
She then ordered her attendants to make us drink; and, to tell you the
truth of the matter as near as possible, we are not, heaven be praised! of
the nature of a drove of calf-lollies, who (as your sparrows can’t feed
unless you bob them on the tail) must be rib-roasted with tough crabtree
and firked into a stomach, or at least into an humour to eat or drink. No,
we know better things, and scorn to scorn any man’s civility who civilly
invites us to a drinking bout. Bacbuc asked us then how we liked our tiff.
We answered that it seemed to us good harmless sober Adam’s liquor, fit to
keep a man in the right way, and, in a word, mere element; more cool and
clear than Argyrontes in Aetolia, Peneus in Thessaly, Axius in Mygdonia, or
Cydnus in Cilicia, a tempting sight of whose cool silver stream caused
Alexander to prefer the short-lived pleasure of bathing himself in it to
the inconveniences which he could not but foresee would attend so
ill-termed an action.
This, said Bacbuc, comes of not considering with ourselves, or
understanding the motions of the musculous tongue, when the drink glides on
it in its way to the stomach. Tell me, noble strangers, are your throats
lined, paved, or enamelled, as formerly was that of Pithyllus, nicknamed
Theutes, that you can have missed the taste, relish, and flavour of this
divine liquor? Here, said she, turning towards her gentlewomen, bring my
scrubbing-brushes, you know which, to scrape, rake, and clear their
palates.
They brought immediately some stately, swingeing, jolly hams, fine
substantial neat’s tongues, good hung-beef, pure and delicate botargos,
venison, sausages, and such other gullet-sweepers. And, to comply with her
invitation, we crammed and twisted till we owned ourselves thoroughly cured
of thirst, which before did damnably plague us.
We are told, continued she, that formerly a learned and valiant Hebrew
chief, leading his people through the deserts, where they were in danger of
being famished, obtained of God some manna, whose taste was to them, by
imagination, such as that of meat was to them before in reality; thus,
drinking of this miraculous liquor, you’ll find it taste like any wine that
you shall fancy you drink. Come, then, fancy and drink. We did so, and
Panurge had no sooner whipped off his brimmer but he cried, By Noah’s open
shop, ‘tis vin de Beaune, better than ever was yet tipped over tongue, or
may ninety-six devils swallow me. Oh! that to keep its taste the longer,
we gentlemen topers had but necks some three cubits long or so, as
Philoxenus desired to have, or, at least, like a crane’s, as Melanthius
wished his.
On the faith of true lanterners, quoth Friar John, ‘tis gallant, sparkling
Greek wine. Now, for God’s sake, sweetheart, do but teach me how the devil
you make it. It seems to me Mirevaux wine, said Pantagruel; for before I
drank I supposed it to be such. Nothing can be misliked in it, but that
‘tis cold; colder, I say, than the very ice; colder than the Nonacrian and
Dercean (Motteux reads ‘Deraen.’) water, or the Conthoporian (Motteux,
‘Conthopian.’) spring at Corinth, that froze up the stomach and nutritive
parts of those that drank of it.
Drink once, twice, or thrice more, said Bacbuc, still changing your
imagination, and you shall find its taste and flavour to be exactly that on
which you shall have pitched. Then never presume to say that anything is
impossible to God. We never offered to say such a thing, said I; far from
it, we maintain he is omnipotent.
Chapter 5.XLIII.
How the Priestess Bacbuc equipped Panurge in order to have the word of the
Bottle.
When we had thus chatted and tippled, Bacbuc asked, Who of you here would
have the word of the Bottle? I, your most humble little funnel, an’t
please you, quoth Panurge. Friend, saith she, I have but one thing to tell
you, which is, that when you come to the Oracle, you take care to hearken
and hear the word only with one ear. This, cried Friar John, is wine of
one ear, as Frenchmen call it.
She then wrapped him up in a gaberdine, bound his noddle with a goodly
clean biggin, clapped over it a felt such as those through which hippocras
is distilled, at the bottom of which, instead of a cowl, she put three
obelisks, made him draw on a pair of old-fashioned codpieces instead of
mittens, girded him about with three bagpipes bound together, bathed his
jobbernowl thrice in the fountain; then threw a handful of meal on his
phiz, fixed three cock’s feathers on the right side of the hippocratical
felt, made him take a jaunt nine times round the fountain, caused him to
take three little leaps and to bump his a-- seven times against the ground,
repeating I don’t know what kind of conjurations all the while in the
Tuscan tongue, and ever and anon reading in a ritual or book of ceremonies,
carried after her by one of her mystagogues.
For my part, may I never stir if I don’t really believe that neither Numa
Pompilius, the second King of the Romans, nor the Cerites of Tuscia, and
the old Hebrew captain ever instituted so many ceremonies as I then saw
performed; nor were ever half so many religious forms used by the
soothsayers of Memphis in Egypt to Apis, or by the Euboeans, at Rhamnus
(Motteux gives ‘or by the Embrians, or at Rhamnus.’), to Rhamnusia, or to
Jupiter Ammon, or to Feronia.
When she had thus accoutred my gentleman, she took him out of our company,
and led him out of the temple, through a golden gate on the right, into a
round chapel made of transparent speculary stones, by whose solid clearness
the sun’s light shined there through the precipice of the rock without any
windows or other entrance, and so easily and fully dispersed itself through
the greater temple that the light seemed rather to spring out of it than to
flow into it.
The workmanship was not less rare than that of the sacred temple at
Ravenna, or that in the island of Chemnis in Egypt. Nor must I forget to
tell you that the work of that round chapel was contrived with such a
symmetry that its diameter was just the height of the vault.
In the middle of it was an heptagonal fountain of fine alabaster most
artfully wrought, full of water, which was so clear that it might have
passed for element in its purity and singleness. The sacred Bottle was in
it to the middle, clad in pure fine crystal of an oval shape, except its
muzzle, which was somewhat wider than was consistent with that figure.
Chapter 5.XLIV.
How Bacbuc, the high-priestess, brought Panurge before the Holy Bottle.
There the noble priestess Bacbuc made Panurge stoop and kiss the brink of
the fountain; then bade him rise and dance three ithymbi [‘Dances in the
honour of Bacchus.’--Motteux.). Which done, she ordered him to sit down
between two stools placed there for that purpose, his arse upon the ground.
Then she opened her ceremonial book, and, whispering in his left ear, made
him sing an epileny, inserted here in the figure of the bottle.
Bottle, whose Mysterious Deep
Do’s ten thousand Secrets keep,
With attentive Ear I wait;
Ease my Mind, and speak my Fate.
Soul of Joy! Like Bacchus, we
More than India gain by thee.
Truths unborn thy Juice reveals,
Which Futurity conceals.
Antidote to Frauds and Lies,
Wine, that mounts us to the Skies,
May thy Father Noah’s Brood
Like him drown, but in thy Flood.
Speak, so may the Liquid Mine
Of Rubies, or of Diamonds shine.
Bottle, whose Mysterious Deep
Do’s ten thousand Secrets keep,
With attentive Ear I wait;
Ease my Mind, and speak my Fate.
When Panurge had sung, Bacbuc threw I don’t know what into the fountain,
and straight its water began to boil in good earnest, just for the world as
doth the great monastical pot at Bourgueil when ‘tis high holiday there.
Friend Panurge was listening with one ear, and Bacbuc kneeled by him, when
such a kind of humming was heard out of the Bottle as is made by a swarm of
bees bred in the flesh of a young bull killed and dressed according to
Aristaeus’s art, or such as is made when a bolt flies out of a crossbow, or
when a shower falls on a sudden in summer. Immediately after this was
heard the word Trinc. By cob’s body, cried Panurge, ‘tis broken, or
cracked at least, not to tell a lie for the matter; for even so do crystal
bottles speak in our country when they burst near the fire.
Bacbuc arose, and gently taking Panurge under the arms, said, Friend, offer
your thanks to indulgent heaven, as reason requires. You have soon had the
word of the Goddess-Bottle; and the kindest, most favourable, and certain
word of answer that I ever yet heard her give since I officiated here at
her most sacred oracle. Rise, let us go to the chapter, in whose gloss
that fine word is explained. With all my heart, quoth Panurge; by jingo, I
am just as wise as I was last year. Light, where’s the book? Turn it
over, where’s the chapter? Let’s see this merry gloss.
Chapter 5.XLV.
How Bacbuc explained the word of the Goddess-Bottle.
Bacbuc having thrown I don’t know what into the fountain, straight the
water ceased to boil; and then she took Panurge into the greater temple, in
the central place, where there was the enlivening fountain.
There she took out a hugeous silver book, in the shape of a half-tierce, or
hogshead, of sentences, and, having filled it at the fountain, said to him,
The philosophers, preachers, and doctors of your world feed you up with
fine words and cant at the ears; now, here we really incorporate our
precepts at the mouth. Therefore I’ll not say to you, read this chapter,
see this gloss; no, I say to you, taste me this fine chapter, swallow me
this rare gloss. Formerly an ancient prophet of the Jewish nation ate a
book and became a clerk even to the very teeth! Now will I have you drink
one, that you may be a clerk to your very liver. Here, open your
mandibules.
Panurge gaping as wide as his jaws would stretch, Bacbuc took the silver
book--at least we took it for a real book, for it looked just for the world
like a breviary--but in truth it was a breviary, a flask of right Falernian
wine as it came from the grape, which she made him swallow every drop.
By Bacchus, quoth Panurge, this was a notable chapter, a most authentic
gloss, o’ my word. Is this all that the trismegistian Bottle’s word means?
I’ troth, I like it extremely; it went down like mother’s milk. Nothing
more, returned Bacbuc; for Trinc is a panomphean word, that is, a word
understood, used and celebrated by all nations, and signifies drink.
Some say in your world that sack is a word used in all tongues, and justly
admitted in the same sense among all nations; for, as Aesop’s fable hath
it, all men are born with a sack at the neck, naturally needy and begging
of each other; neither can the most powerful king be without the help of
other men, or can anyone that’s poor subsist without the rich, though he be
never so proud and insolent; as, for example, Hippias the philosopher, who
boasted he could do everything. Much less can anyone make shift without
drink than without a sack. Therefore here we hold not that laughing, but
that drinking is the distinguishing character of man. I don’t say
drinking, taking that word singly and absolutely in the strictest sense;
no, beasts then might put in for a share; I mean drinking cool delicious
wine. For you must know, my beloved, that by wine we become divine;
neither can there be a surer argument or a less deceitful divination. Your
[‘Varro.’--Motteux) academics assert the same when they make the etymology
of wine, which the Greeks call OINOS, to be from vis, strength, virtue,