I freely admit what all the world knows about Fran?ois Rabelais.
Long before the day when Fielding and Smollett began to be read on the sly, and before the comic Muse1 of Congreve and Wycherly began to be looked at askance, that English moral sentiment, over which Macaulay was to philosophize more than a century later, had solidified2 in ignoring Rabelais. Nothing is to be said against the sentiment itself. This has always been fairly righteous, if just a bit undiscriminating. A great humorist, showing himself content to grovel3 in the dirt, is, beyond question, deserving of black looks and shut doors. But more than most old masters of a type, strong, albeit4 coarse, Rabelais—from the distinctly marked physical attributes of his chief personages—may claim certain good points which, drawn5 out and grouped together, ought to fall within the circle of those tales which interest children.
I have read Rabelais twice in my life. Each time, I have read him in that old French, which has no master quite so great as he; and each time in Auguste Desrez's edition, which, in its careful Table des Matières, learned glossary6, quaint7 notes, Gallicized Latin and Greek words, and a complete Rabelaisiana, shows the devotion of the rare editor, who does not distort, because he understands, the Master whom he edits. When I first peeped into his pages I was a lad, altogether too young to be tainted8 by profanity, while I skipped, true boy-fashion, whole pages to pick out the wondrous9 story of his Giants. When I came back to him, after many years, I was both older and, I hope, wiser. Being older, I had learned to gauge10 him better, both in his strength and in his weakness. I had come to see wherein an old prejudice was too just to be safely resisted; and, on the other hand, wherein it had got to be so deeply set that it had hardened to injustice11. As I went on, it did not take me long to discover that it was quite possible for my purpose—following, indeed, the path unconsciously taken in my boyhood—to divide Rabelais sharply into incident and philosophy. That this had not been thought of before surprised, but did not daunt12 me. I said to myself: I shall limit the incident strictly13 to his three Giants; I shall hold these, from grandfather to grandson, well together; keep all that is sound in them; cut away the impurity14 which is not so much of as around them; chisel15 them out as a sculptor16 might, and leave his philosophy with face to the wall. This done, I turned the scouring17 hose, full and strong, upon the incidents themselves, clearing out both dialectics and profanity thoroughly18. I did not stop until I had left the famous trio, Grandgousier, Gargantua, and Pantagruel where I had, from the first, hoped to place them,—high and dry above the scum which had so long clogged19 their rare good-fellowship, and which had made men of judgment20 blind to the genuine worth that was in them.
In this way I believed that I saw the chance to free Rabelais' Giants, so long kept in bonds, from a captivity21 which has dishonored them. To do this was clearly running against that good old law which has invariably made all Giants—far back from fairy-time—thunder-voiced, great-toothed, rude-handed, hard-hearted, bloody-minded creatures and truculent22 captors, never, on any account, pitiful captives. But, to such, the Rabelaisian Giants are none of kin23. No more are they of blood to that Giant that Jack24 slew25, or that Giant Despair, in whose garden-court Bunyan dreamt that he saw the white bones of slaughtered26 pilgrims.
Public sentiment has hitherto illogically retched at the name of Rabelais, while it swallows without qualm "Tristram Shandy" and "Gulliver's Travels." Shall it always retch? The time, I think, is practically taking the answer into its own hands. Rabelais, through some cotemporaneous influence, rising subtly in his favor among men who are neither afraid nor ashamed to judge for themselves, is, in one sense, slowly becoming a naturalized citizen of our modern Literary Republic. Literature and Art are joining hands in his rehabilitation27. Mr. Walter Besant, a novelist, has been so good as to write his life; to say bright words about him; and to quote clean things from him. Mrs. Oliphant, a purist, has consented to admit him into her "Foreign Classics for English Readers." Three years ago M. Emile Hébert's bronze statue of him was unveiled at that Chinon, his birthplace, which he lovingly calls "the most ancient city of the world." And, to crown all, as the latest expression of a tardy28 recognition, his bust29 by M. Truphème was, only the other day, uncovered at that Meudon of which he was, for a time, the famous, if not always orthodox, Curé.
Rabelais himself never, it is clear, appreciated his Giants save for the contrasted jollity which they lent to his satires30.
"Mieulx est de ris que de larmes escripre,
Pour ce que rire est le propre de lhomme,"
was his maxim31. But this maxim never rose to a creed32. His Giants seem, almost against his will, to stride beyond the territory of mere33 burlesque34. They are as easily free from theology as from science. They have never been of La Bamette. They are as far from Montpellier. To these colossal35 creations, heroes fashioned in ridicule36 of the old fantastico-chivalric deeds of their age, as they come down more and more from the clouds, are more and more given the feelings common to this earth's creatures. All three bear, from their birth, a sturdy human sympathy not natural to their kind, as medi?val superstition37 classed it. Two of them, in being brought to the level of humanity, join with this a simple Christian38 manliness39 and a childlike faith under all emergencies, not set on their own massive strength, but fixed40 on God, whom they had been taught to know, and honor, and serve—and all this by whom? Forsooth, by the same Fran?ois Rabelais, laugher, mocker, and "insensate reviler41." From Grandgousier, the good-hearted guzzler42, through Gargantua, with his heady youth and wise old age, to "the noble Pantagruel," the gain in purity and Christian manhood is steady. The royal race of Chalbroth follows no track beaten down by other kingly lines known to history. While their line descends43 from father to son, it ascends44 in virtue45.
One charge—a legacy46 from the narrow times when run-mad commentators47 spied a plot in every folio—has followed, to this day, Rabelais and his work. Wise men have, to their own satisfaction, proved the latter to be an enigma48 filled with hidden meanings, dangerous to state and morals; with mad attacks directed, from every chapter, against ordered society; with satiric49 thrusts lurking50, in every sentence, against Pope, and King, and nobles; in brief, a Malay-muck run with a pen, instead of a knife, against the moral foundations of the world. All these, if not true, are certainly "like, very like" the Rabelais as he is painted by purists in the gallery of great authors. If true, they have wrought51 more subtly than all else in the forging of those heavy chains which have been bound, coil upon coil, around his hapless big men. It is not to be wondered at that even their mighty52 number of cubits should have been smothered53 under the fine, slow-settling dust of three centuries. Happily, however, fair play has been, of old, the standing54 boast of all English-speaking men. Fran?ois Rabelais—never once deigning55 to ask for it at home, when living—has, in penalty therefor, been ferociously56 denied it abroad, when dead. To that sentiment—moved, it may be, by a concurrent57 testimony58 given, in this age, to the memory of the author himself—I appeal now in behalf of his Giants. That they have fared badly through all these centuries, mostly by reason of him, cannot be gainsaid59. That of themselves, however, they have in no wise merited such ostracism60, is what I have ventured to claim in this compilation61. Freed alike from that prejudice which has hunted them down, and from those formidable
"... points of ignorance
Pertaining62 thereunto,"
which have, so far, blocked every avenue to modern sympathy, I would have them honored, among all stout63 lovers of fair play, as I leave them in this "Explanation by way of Preface."
J. D.

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1
muse
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n.缪斯(希腊神话中的女神),创作灵感 | |
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2
solidified
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(使)成为固体,(使)变硬,(使)变得坚固( solidify的过去式和过去分词 ); 使团结一致; 充实,巩固; 具体化 | |
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3
grovel
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vi.卑躬屈膝,奴颜婢膝 | |
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4
albeit
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conj.即使;纵使;虽然 | |
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5
drawn
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v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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6
glossary
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n.注释词表;术语汇编 | |
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7
quaint
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adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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8
tainted
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adj.腐坏的;污染的;沾污的;感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 );使污染;败坏;被污染,腐坏,败坏 | |
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9
wondrous
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adj.令人惊奇的,奇妙的;adv.惊人地;异乎寻常地;令人惊叹地 | |
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10
gauge
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v.精确计量;估计;n.标准度量;计量器 | |
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11
injustice
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n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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12
daunt
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vt.使胆怯,使气馁 | |
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13
strictly
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adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
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14
impurity
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n.不洁,不纯,杂质 | |
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15
chisel
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n.凿子;v.用凿子刻,雕,凿 | |
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16
sculptor
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n.雕刻家,雕刻家 | |
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17
scouring
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擦[洗]净,冲刷,洗涤 | |
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18
thoroughly
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adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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19
clogged
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(使)阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 ); 淤滞 | |
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20
judgment
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n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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21
captivity
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n.囚禁;被俘;束缚 | |
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22
truculent
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adj.野蛮的,粗野的 | |
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23
kin
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n.家族,亲属,血缘关系;adj.亲属关系的,同类的 | |
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24
jack
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n.插座,千斤顶,男人;v.抬起,提醒,扛举;n.(Jake)杰克 | |
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25
slew
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v.(使)旋转;n.大量,许多 | |
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26
slaughtered
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v.屠杀,杀戮,屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
rehabilitation
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n.康复,悔过自新,修复,复兴,复职,复位 | |
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28
tardy
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adj.缓慢的,迟缓的 | |
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29
bust
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vt.打破;vi.爆裂;n.半身像;胸部 | |
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30
satires
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讽刺,讥讽( satire的名词复数 ); 讽刺作品 | |
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31
maxim
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n.格言,箴言 | |
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32
creed
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n.信条;信念,纲领 | |
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33
mere
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adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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34
burlesque
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v.嘲弄,戏仿;n.嘲弄,取笑,滑稽模仿 | |
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35
colossal
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adj.异常的,庞大的 | |
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36
ridicule
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v.讥讽,挖苦;n.嘲弄 | |
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37
superstition
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n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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38
Christian
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adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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39
manliness
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刚毅 | |
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40
fixed
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adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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41
reviler
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n.谩骂者;辱骂者,谩骂者 | |
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42
guzzler
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n.酒鬼,酒量大的人 | |
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43
descends
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v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 );下去;下降;下斜 | |
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44
ascends
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v.上升,攀登( ascend的第三人称单数 ) | |
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45
virtue
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n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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46
legacy
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n.遗产,遗赠;先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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47
commentators
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n.评论员( commentator的名词复数 );时事评论员;注释者;实况广播员 | |
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48
enigma
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n.谜,谜一样的人或事 | |
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49
satiric
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adj.讽刺的,挖苦的 | |
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50
lurking
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潜在 | |
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51
wrought
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v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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52
mighty
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adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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53
smothered
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(使)窒息, (使)透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 ); 覆盖; 忍住; 抑制 | |
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54
standing
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n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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55
deigning
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v.屈尊,俯就( deign的现在分词 ) | |
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56
ferociously
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野蛮地,残忍地 | |
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57
concurrent
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adj.同时发生的,一致的 | |
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58
testimony
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n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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59
gainsaid
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v.否认,反驳( gainsay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
ostracism
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n.放逐;排斥 | |
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61
compilation
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n.编译,编辑 | |
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62
pertaining
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与…有关系的,附属…的,为…固有的(to) | |
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