Sir Thomas Urquhart of Cromarty
Once more, with feeling! Anyone who considers themselves a fan of wild, extravagant, liberated prose needs to look at his Rabelais and at least a selection of standalone writings (I recommend The Admirable Urquhart.)
UPON a certain day, I know not when, Pantagruel walking after supper with some of his fellow-Students without that gate of the City, through which we enter on the rode to Paris, encountered with a young spruce-like Scholar that was coming upon the same very way; and after they had saluted one another, asked him thus; My friend, from whence comest thou now? the Scholar answered him: From the alme, inclyte and celebrate Academie, which is vocitated Lutetia. What is the meaning of this (said Pantagruel) to one of his men? It is (answered he) from Paris. Thou comest from Paris then (said Pantagruel,) and how do you spend your time there, you my Masters the Students of Paris? the Scholar answered, We transfretate the Sequan at the dilucul and crepuscul, we deambulate by the compites and quadrives by the Urb: we despumate the Latial verbocination: and like verisimilarie amorabons, we captat the benevolence of the omnijugal, omniform, and omnigenal fœminine sexe: upon certain diecules we invisat the Lupanares, and in a venerian extase inculcate our veretres into the penitissime recesses of the pudends of these amicabilissim meretricules: then do we cauponisate in the meritory taberns of the pineapple, the castle, the magdalene, and the mule, goodly vervecine spatules perforaminated with petrocile; and if by fortune there be rarity, or penury of pecune in our marsupies, and that they be exhausted of ferruginean mettal, for the shot we dimit our codices, and oppugnerat our vestiments, whilest we prestolate the coming of the Tabellaries from the Penates and patriotick Lares:* to which Pantagruel answered, What devillish language is this? by the Lord, I think thou are some kind of Heretick: My Lord, no, said the Scholar, for libentissimally, assoon as it illucesceth any minutle slice of the day, I demigrate into one of these so well architected minsters, and there irrorating my self with faire lustral water, I mumble off little parcels of some missick precation of our sacrificuls: and submurmurating my horarie precules, I elevate and absterge my anime from its noctural inquinations: I revere the Olympicols: I latrially venere the supernal Astripotent: I dilige and redame my proxims: I observe the decalogical precepts; and according to the facultatule of my vires, I do not discede from them one late unguicule; neverthelesse it is veriforme, that because Mammona doth not supergurgitate any thing in my loculs, that I am somewhat rare and lent to supererogate the elemosynes to those egents, that hostially queritate their stipe.*
Prut, tut, (said Pantagruel,) what doth this foole meane to say? I think he is upon the forging of some diabolical tongue, and that inchanter-like he would charme us; to whom one of his men said, Without doubt (Sir) this fellow would counterfeit the Language of the Parisians, but he doth only flay the Latine, imagining by so doing that he doth highly Pindarize it in most eloquent termes, and strongly conceiteth himself to be therefore a great Oratour in the French, because he disdaineth the common manner of speaking; to which Pantagruel said, Is it true? The Scholar answered, My worshipful Lord, my genie is not apt nate to that which this flagitious Nebulon saith, to excoriate the cutule of our vernacular Gallick, but viceversally I gnave opere and by veles and rames enite to locupletate it, with the Latinicome redundance.* By G— (said Pantagruel), I will teach you to speak, but first come hither, and tell me whence thou art? To this the Scholar answered: The primeval origin of my aves and ataves was indigenarie of the Lemovick regions, where requiesceth the corpor of the hagiotat St. Martial.* I understand thee very well (said Pantagruel), when all comes to all, thou art a Limousin, and thou wilt here by thy affected speech counterfeit the Parisiens: well now, come hither, I must shew thee a new trick, and handsomely give thee the combfeat: with this he took him by the throat, saying to him, Thou flayest the Latine: by St. John, I will make thee flay the foxe, for I will now flay thee alive: Then began the poor Limousin to cry; Haw, gwid Maaster, haw, Laord, my halp and St. Marshaw, haw, I’m worried: Haw, my thropple, the bean of my cragg is bruck! Haw, for gauads seck, lawt my lean, Mawster; waw, waw, waw. Now (said Pantagruel) thou speakest naturally, and so let him go, for the poor Limousin had totally berayed, and throughly conshit his breeches, which were not deep and large enough, but round streat caniond gregs, having in the seat a piece like a keelings taile; and therefore in French called de chausses à queüe de merlus. Then (said Pantagruel) St. Alipantin, what civette! fi to the devil with this Turnepeater, as he stinks, and so let him go: but this hug of Pantagruels was such a terrour to him all the dayes of his life, and took such deep impression in his fancie, that very often, distracted with sudden affrightments, he would startle and say that Pantagruel held him by the neck; besides that it procured him a continual drought and desire to drink, so that after some few years he died of the death Roland, in plain English called thirst, a work of divine vengeance, shewing us that which saith the Philosopher and Aulus Gellius, that it becometh us to speak according to the common language: and that we should, (as said Octavian Augustus) strive to shun all strange and unknown termes with as much heedfulnesse and circumspection as Pilots of ships use to avoid the rocks and banks in the sea.
Jacques LeClercq's trot
Screech explained the Latinised circumlocutions in the notes, LeClercq encorperates his notes directly into the text. An alternate version of these passages can be found in the endnotes to Donald Frame's translation:
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("There was no interpreter here to tell Pantagruel that what the fellow meant was this. 'We cross the Seme at dawn and dusk, we walk through the thoroughfares and crossroads of the city; we rake up Latin to speak and, as true lusty fellows, we win the favors of women. Occasionally we go to brothels and, hot with love, push our cods into the depths of these friendly little harlots' cunnies. Then, in the taverns of the Fir Cove, the Castle, the Magdalen and the Mule, we eat shoulders of mutton garnished with parsley, should we have little money in our purses or be out of cash, we settle the bill by pledging our books and pawning our clothes while awaiting remittances from home.')"
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"(Poor Pantagruel! He could not know the fellow meant: 'For when day breaks I withdraw to a well-built church, and there, sprinkling myself with holy water, I mumble a few words of the mass. "While saying my prayers, I wash and cleanse my soul of the pollution of the night; I worship the high gods; I adore the master of the spheres; I love and cherish my neighbors; I follow the Ten Commandments and, within the measure of my power, I do not deviate a nail's breadth from these teachings. It is certain that because the Goddess of Wealth puts nothing in my purse, I very rarely give alms to the beggars who seek money from door to door.')"
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"of which simply meant: 'My genius is not naturally apt to grasp what this worthless vagabond says as he accuses me of flaying the skin of our French vernacular. On the contrary, I devote all my attention and make every possible effort to endow it with a Latin richness.')"
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(Which being interpreted meant: "My ancestors were born in the Limousin where St. Martial is buried.")
M. A. Screech
One day, [I’m not sure when,] Pantagruel was going for a stroll after supper with his companions through the gate which leads into Paris. There he met a dapper student coming along the road. After they had greeted each other, Pantagruel asked him,
‘Where are you coming from at this hour, my friend?’
The student replied:
‘From that alma, illustrissime and celebrated Academe vocate Luctece.’
‘What does that mean?’ Pantagruel asked one of his men.
‘From Paris,’ he replied.
‘So you come from Paris? And how,’ he asked, ‘do you young gentlemen spend your time as students in the said Paris?’
The student replied:
‘We transfrete the Sequana at times dilucidatory and crepusculine, deambulating via the urbic carfaxes and quadrivia; we despumate the latinate verbocination, and, like verisimilitudinous amorevolous, we captivate the omnijudicious, omniform and omnigenous feminine sex. On certain dies we invitate ourselves to the lupanars of Champgaillard, Matcon, Cul-de-sac, Bourbon and Huslieu. There, in venereal ecstasy, we inculcate our veretra into the most absconce recesses of the pudenda of those more amicitial meretrices; then, in those meritful taberns, the Pomme-de-Pin, [the Castellum,] the Madeleine and the Mule, we consume spatulas of sheep perforaminated with the herb called petrosil. And if we should chance by forte fortune to have a pecuniary paucity or penury in our marsupiums, exhausted of ferruginous metal, to pay our scot we demit our codexes and oppignerate our vestments, expecting the tabellarles to come from our paternal lares and penates.’
To which Pantagruel replied,
‘What diabolical language is this! You, by God, are a heretic!’
To which the student replied:
‘Signior, no. For most libentiously, as soon as the minutest matutinal section is elucidated, I demigrate towards one of those so-well architectured monasterial fanes; there I asperge myself with lustral aqueous fluid, mumble a slice of some missatical precative from our missaries, with a sub-murmuration of precatories from my Horary, I lave and absterge my animated part of its nocturnal inquinations. I revere the Olympicoles; I latreutically venerate the supernal Astripotent; I have in delectation and mutual amity my proximates; I observe the prescriptions of the Decalogue, and, according to the minuscule capacity of my vim and vigour, I do not discede one laterality of a tiny unguis from them. To be veriloquous, since Mammon never super-ingurgitates one ob into my pecuniary receptacle, I am somewhat rare and lentando in supererogationally eleemosinating to egenes who from ostiary to ostiary are quesititious of a small stipendium.’
‘Oh. Pooh, pooh,’ said Pantagruel. ‘What does this idiot mean! I think he is forging us some diabolical language and casting a charm on us like a sorcerer.’
To which one of his men replied:
‘My Lord, without any doubt, he is trying to ape the language of the Parisians; yet all he can do is to flay Latin alive. He thinks he is pindarizing; he believes he is a great orator in French because he despises the common spoken usage.’
‘Is that true?’ asked Pantagruel.
The student replied:
‘Seigneur, [Sire]. My genius is not innately apt – as this flagitious nebulon opines – for excoriating the cuticle of our Gallic vernacular. But, vice-versally, I am assiduous at striving, by oars and by sail, at locupleting it with latinate superfluity.’
‘By God,’ said Pantagruel, ‘I’ll teach you how to speak. But first tell me where you come from?’
To which the student said:
‘The primeval origin of my atavics and avics was indigenous to the Lemovic regions, where requiesce the corpus of that hagiarch, Saint Martial.’
‘I get you,’ said Pantagruel: ‘You come from Limoges. That’s what it all boils down to. Yet you want to ape Parisian speech. Come here, then, and let me curry you down.’
He then seized him by the throat, saying,
‘You flay Latin! By Saint John, I’ll make you flay up the fox: I shall flay you alive.’
Whereupon that wretched denizen of Limoges began to say:
‘Whoa, there, Maister! Aw! Zaint Marsault zuccour me! Ho, ho. In Gawd’s name. Lemme be! Don’ee touch me!’
Pantagruel said, ‘Now you’re talking naturally.’ And he let go of him, for that wretched man from Limoges was shitting all over his breeches (which were tailored in cod-tails, not stitched along the seam). At which Pantagruel said:
‘By Saint Alipentinus! What a stench there below. Reek of the civet-cat! The devil take the turnip-muncher: how he stinks.’
And thereupon he released him; but for the rest of his life he was so remorseful and parched that he often said, ‘Pantagruel has got me by the throat!’ After a few years he died the death of Roland, brought about by the vengeance of God, so demonstrating to us what the Philosopher and Aulus Gellius said: that we ought in our speech to follow the common usage, and also what Caesar said: that we should avoid silly words as ships’ captains avoid reefs at sea.
Submitted July 29, 2019 at 10:32PM by MilkbottleF https://ift.tt/2LPT3ll
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