If you give no credit thereto, why do not you the
same in these jovial new chronicles of mine?
Albeit when I did dictate them, I thought upon no
more than you, who possibly were drinking the whilst
as I was. For in the composing of this lordly
book, I never lost nor bestowed any more, nor any
other time than what was appointed to serve me for
taking of my bodily refection, that is, whilst I was
eating and drinking. And indeed that is the
fittest and most proper hour wherein to write these
high matters and deep sciences: as Homer knew
very well, the paragon of all philologues, and Ennius,
the father of the Latin poets, as Horace calls him,
although a certain sneaking jobernol alleged that
his verses smelled more of the wine than oil.
So saith a turlupin or a new start-up grub of my books,
but a turd for him. The fragrant odour of the
wine, O how much more dainty, pleasant, laughing (Riant,
priant, friant.), celestial and delicious it is, than
that smell of oil! And I will glory as much
when it is said of me, that I have spent more on wine
than oil, as did Demosthenes, when it was told him,
that his expense on oil was greater than on wine.
I truly hold it for an honour and praise to be called
and reputed a Frolic Gualter and a Robin Goodfellow;
for under this name am I welcome in all choice companies
of Pantagruelists. It was upbraided to Demosthenes
by an envious surly knave, that his Orations did smell
like the sarpler or wrapper of a foul and filthy oil-vessel.
For this cause interpret you all my deeds and sayings
in the perfectest sense; reverence the cheese-like
brain that feeds you with these fair billevezees and
trifling jollities, and do what lies in you to keep
me always merry. Be frolic now, my lads, cheer
up your hearts, and joyfully read the rest, with all
the ease of your body and profit of your reins.
But hearken, joltheads, you viedazes, or dickens take
ye, remember to drink a health to me for the like
favour again, and I will pledge you instantly, Tout
ares-metys.
Rabelais to the Reader.
Good friends, my Readers, who peruse this Book,
Be not offended, whilst on it you look:
Denude yourselves of all depraved affection,
For it contains no badness, nor infection:
’Tis true that it brings forth to you no birth
Of any value, but in point of mirth;
Thinking therefore how sorrow might your mind
Consume, I could no apter subject find;
One inch of joy surmounts of grief a span;
Because to laugh is proper to the man.
Chapter 1.I.
Of the Genealogy and Antiquity of Gargantua.
I must refer you to the great chronicle of Pantagruel
for the knowledge of that genealogy and antiquity
of race by which Gargantua is come unto us. In
it you may understand more at large how the giants
were born in this world, and how from them by a direct
line issued Gargantua, the father of Pantagruel:
and do not take it ill, if for this time I pass by
it, although the subject be such, that the oftener
it were remembered, the more it would please your
worshipful Seniorias; according to which you have the
authority of Plato in Philebo and Gorgias; and of Flaccus,
who says that there are some kinds of purposes (such
as these are without doubt), which, the frequentlier
they be repeated, still prove the more delectable.
