from Pantagruel: Third Book

FRANÇOIS RABELAIS

Each of the major literary languages of medieval Europe had a comedic author par excellence, a ribald trickster whose tawdry wit continues to charm even today. Italy had Boccaccio, England Chaucer, and France the great Rabelais. In five works (four finished, one unfinished and posthumously published), he tells the supremely satirical tale of Gargantua and Pantagruel, debauched giants of gluttony, flatulence, and vulgarity. They drink hogsheads of ale, piss rivers, fart windstorms, flout armies, and scandalize women. They are, in effect, enormous frat boys having their way with the theology and politics of sixteenth-century France. No storyteller has ever taken as many liberties as Rabelais, no tale has ever been more over-the-top, and, thus, the history of literature provides few things that are more fun to read. In the excerpt that follows, Rabelais takes a feather from Boccaccio’s cap, having a friar tell an ingenious trick for how to keep a wife faithful. Like Boccaccio (and Petronius before him), Rabelais knew how to mix sex and riddles, stimulating the reader both above and below the neck. Here’s a prime example.

“I’ll teach you one way,” said Friar John, “to prevent your wife from ever making you a cuckold without your knowing about it.”

“I beg to you, my friend,” said Panurge. “Tell it to me now.”

“Use Hans Carvel’s ring,” said Friar John . . . and went on to explain. “Hans Carvel was a intelligent and worthy man . . . In his later years he married . . . a young, attractive, flirtatious girl who was exceedingly friendly with their neighbors and servants. So after only a few weeks, Hans became jealous as a tiger and suspected that his wife was getting her back end tambourined elsewhere. To try to prevent this from happening, Hans started telling her stories about what misery can arise from adultery and read to her from the Legend of Chaste Women . . . Yet he still found her so resilient and so joyful with the neighbors that he got ever more jealous. Then one night among others, while sleeping beside her, he dreamt he was talking to the devil and explained his concerns. The devil comforted him, and put a ring on his middle finger, and said, ‘I will give you this ring. While you wear it on your finger, your wife will not be shared by any man without your consent and knowledge.’ Hans thanked the devil . . . and the devil vanished. When Hans awoke, he was pleased to find his finger up the whatchamacallit of his dear wife, who, I forgot to mention, drew back as if to say, ‘That’s not what you’re supposed to put in there!’ And she squirmed and squirmed, but he wouldn’t let her take off his ring!

“Now isn’t that an infallible solution? So take my advice and always keep your wife’s ring on your finger!”

—translated by Jack Murnighan