Holy Terror

THE SCANDALOUS ADVENTURES OF REYNARD THE Fox--Harry J.. Owens--Knopf ($3).

I have not added ne mynneshed but have followed as nyghe as I can my copye wich was in dutche; and by me Willm Caxton translated in to this rude and symple englysshe in thabbey of Westminster, and finished the vi daye of Juyn in the yere of our Lord 1481, and the 21 yere of the regne of Kynge Edward the 1111th.

Thus Britain's first printer concluded his Hysteria of Reynart the Foxe, translated from a Flemish-Dutch epic poem (already 200 years old) recounting the adventures of one of folklore's most attractive rascals.

Its origin lost in the misty beginnings of all folklore, rapscallion Reynard's tale has been told and retold in a score of tongues. His name, his cunning, and the basis of some of his adventures are discernible in Aesop's fables and in the Hindu myths from which those fables came. In the 19th Century, philologist and fairytale-teller Jacob Grimm republished the story with all the gusty lustiness of earlier tellings; in a politer version Goethe made an epic poem of it. No less than 27 episodes of Le Roman de Renard were penned in medieval France. The last of these formed the basis of the Flemish-Dutch poem from which Caxton made his translation.

Now, the Caxton text briskly refurbished into up-to-date English by Editor Harry J. Owens of Chicago's Lakeside Press, Reynard emerges again, a lively and unscrupulous opportunist, still happy to live by his wits in picturesque unrespectability. "A thief, a traitor and an assassin"--in the words of his archenemy, Isengrim the Wolf--Reynard remains a likable rascal.

No Scandal Whatever. Editor Owens has kept the adventures of the fox as Caxton printed them. Again Reynard tempts pompous, grasping Brown the Bear to search for honey in a split log, knocks out the wedges and traps him fast. Again he steals the sausage from sniveling Poodle Wackerlos, shows that Wackerlos stole the sausage from treacherous Hintze the Tomcat, who in turn stole it from the miller's wife. Again he cheerfully seduces Isengrim's willing wife and later pleads: "One thing I want credit for, however, and that is keeping quiet about the business. If Isengrim had shown equally good sense, there would have been no scandal whatever."

Despite many contrary opinions, Reynard still plainly considers himself as a much put-upon individual, "as faultless as a newborn infant ... a man of piety and a pillar of religion." As Grimbart the Badger, his long-suffering nephew, often pointed out, Reynard was frequently to be found at his devotions.

Affection v. Appetite. The story of Reynard has been variously interpreted. Thomas Carlyle called it "a wild parody of human life." Medievalists have seen in it a parable of the struggle between church and state. But plain readers will always love Reynard simply as a prime deflator of stuffed shirts and a delightful rogue who always gets away with it.

"You know how it is," Reynard confided to Grimbart. "One cannot always keep himself as holy as if he lived in a monastery. The fault is not always with me. Take, for example, that confounded Hare. The rascal was as fat as butter. I loved that Hare but he would go scampering around under my nose, and the time came when affection was no longer a match for appetite."

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