after studying at several universities pantagruel goes to paris.

pantagruel grew, from day to day, in health, and stature, and strength, which, of course, gave great delight to his father. gargantua ordered to be made for his son, while he was still small, a cross-bow, with which he could make himself merry in shooting at the little birds, and which is kept to this day, and is known as the great cross-bow of chantelle. it was not long after this that pantagruel was sent off to school at poitiers, under the charge of his tutor epistemon, where he showed himself a diligent scholar.

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the great cross-bow of chantelle.

just before they left, while his son was getting into the saddle, good father gargantua had taken epistemon on his arm for a few words of private talk. all he said, in a solemn whisper, was: "teach my boy, first of all, greek; secondly, latin. my father cared for nothing so much as latin. if i knew greek half so well as i know my latin, i should be happy."

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the great raised stone.

having noticed that the students of poitiers had often so much time on their hands that they did not know how to get rid of it, and being a good-hearted young giant, pantagruel thought he would take pity on them and devise some plan to help them. so, one fine day, he tore from a great ledge of rocks, which the people of the town called passelourdin, a large stone, about twelve fathoms square, and carried it in his strong arms with the greatest ease to four pillars which then stood in the middle of a field, upon which, by sheer force, he placed the stone. none of the young students had the slightest idea why the giant of whom they were so proud had robbed big passelourdin, but it was not long before they began to do precisely what pantagruel had thought they would do. whenever they had nothing else to think about—which, by the way, happened the greater part of every day—they would fill up the time by climbing up to the stone, bearing with them flagons of wine and hams and pies, upon which they feasted with loud shouts of laughter, each one being sure to wind up his first day's fun by cutting his name deep into the surface of the stone. by and by, it began to be talked about as the "raised stone." and, for a long time, no student was allowed to graduate at the university of poitiers unless he had first solemnly sworn that he had drunk in the magical fountain of croustelles, had taken a walk to passelourdin, and had from there climbed to the top of the "raised stone."

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pantagruel visits his ancestor's tomb.

while the students were making merry over their new game, pantagruel was poring harder than ever over dusty old tomes in the library of the university. one day, while he was reading the fine chronicles of his ancestors, he happened to turn over the page which told him of the famous giant jeffrey of lusignan, nicknamed "jeffrey of the great tooth," who was buried at maillezais, near by. what should pantagruel do but choose a play-day to pay his respects to the sepulchre of the old giant! taking some friends along with him he soon reached maillezais. all the way to the tomb he had been thinking of nothing but how he would do it honor; but, when he got there, his eyes seemed glued to a picture of his big-toothed ancestor, which was hanging on the wall. it wasn't a cheerful portrait, i must say, for it made old jeffrey of the great tooth look like a man in an awful fury and with a horrible toothache, half-drawing his great malchus out of its scabbard. the moment pantagruel saw this, he grew half afraid and half angry. pointing sternly to the picture, he said:—

"he has not been painted in this way without cause. see how his eyes glare, and how his great tooth seems to come out in pain. why should he draw his malchus? i suspect that, at his death, some wrong was done to him which he looks to his kindred to avenge. i shall look deeper into this matter, and do what i shall think to be right."

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pantagruel settles at orleans.

after having done a good turn for his fellow-students at poitiers, pantagruel resolved to visit the other universities of france. he did not like bordeaux very much, so he soon went to toulouse. here he learned to dance and to use the two-handed sword,—a special exercise with the students of that university. but he decided he wouldn't stay any longer at toulouse after he had occasion to see how the students had sometimes a little trick of their own of roasting their regents alive, like so many red herrings. so he strode off to montpellier, where he met pleasant company, and began to think, one day, that he ought to study medicine, and the next, that the law was, after all, the only thing for him; but he soon grew tired of all this and, journeying from university to university, at last settled himself after a time at orleans. here he was made welcome with joyous shouts and much respect; and, as the students were none too fond of their books, pantagruel took great pains to become a master at tennis,—the favorite game of the city. after several years passed at orleans, he consulted with epistemon about going to the great university of paris. it was a glorious day for him—and i dare say the sober teacher himself, under all his wise look, was just as pleased as his pupil—when the journey was at last decided on. but, before leaving, the giant was told that an enormous bell, belonging to the city of orleans, had been lying under the ground at saint aignan for more than two hundred and fourteen years, as it was so big and heavy that no engine—much less, men—could be found strong enough to move it from its place. the fact is, the good people of orleans, having heard that the giant was thinking of leaving them for good, came before him, humbly praying him, before his departure, to bring that great bell to the tower which had been waiting ever so many years for it. pantagruel, with his usual kindness, went to the spot where the bell was, and lifted it as easily as if it had been a hawk's bell. as he was quite sure of his own strength, pantagruel thought that, before carrying the bell to the belfry, he would take a stroll about the city with it in his hands, making it ring in the streets and by-ways. of course everybody in orleans—man, woman, boy, girl; even the babies, who didn't know what they were smiling at, but showed their little white teeth and dimpling cheeks all the same—were all out, crowding the streets and jostling in the by-ways. but here, while our pantagruel was amusing himself and while the ringing was sounding through the city, there came a terrible misfortune, of which nobody had the slightest idea at the time. it was only found out at night, when the simple people wanted to drink in honor of the great event, that all the good wine of orleans had of a sudden curdled and turned sour. it was the awful strokes of that tremendous bell in pantagruel's hand, as he tramped up and down the streets, which had curdled the orleans wine, and made the honest people who drank it spit as white as cotton, crying out: "we have caught the pantagruel, and our very throats are salted."

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pantagruel enters paris.

after this exploit pantagruel, with epistemon, and his valet carpalim, was very glad to start for paris. on entering that city, all the people stretched their heads out of the windows to see him pass; peering down at his feet as he tramped through the streets, and then, with their mouths wide open, craning their necks to see how high in the clouds his head might be. they were just a little afraid, in their curiosity, that their visitor might take up their king's palace and stalk away with it, as his father gargantua, whom every old woman had seen and of whom every child had heard, had carried away, years and years before, the bells of n?tre dame to hang them around his mare's neck.

"clear enough, this young giant is the old giant's son," the gossips whispered to each other.

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pantagruel in the library.

while in paris, pantagruel—as was the fashion for young men to do—went one day to see the world-famous victor library. there he found books with high titles on the covers, and no sense between them. one look at the shelves of the victor library was enough for the prince.

after a few months passed in paris—studying and gaining great stores of knowledge all the time,—pantagruel, in reply to one who asked him what he thought of the city, answered drily, that while "paris was a very good place to live in, it was a very bad place to die in."