Thus has our old Fable, rising like some River in the remote distance, from obscure rivulets, gathered strength out of every valley, out of every country, as it rolled on. It is European in two senses; for as all Europe conAmong the Germans, Reinecke Fuchs was long a House-book and universal Best-companion: it has been lectured on in Universities, quoted in Imperial Council-halls; it lay on the toilette of Princesses, and was thumbed to pieces on the bench of the Artisan; we hear of grave men ranking it only next to the Bible. Neither, as we said, was its popularity confined to home; Translations ere long appeared in French, Italian, Danish, Swedish, Dutch, English:* nor was that same stall-honour, which has been reckoned the truest literary celebrity, refused it here; perhaps many a reader of these pages may, like the writer of them, recollect the hours, when, hidden from unfeeling gaze of pedagogue, he swallowed The most pleasant and delightful History of Renard the Fox, like stolen waters, with a timorous joy.

sion or improvement; and properly has no single author. We must observe, however, that as yet it had attained no fixation or consistency; no version was decidedly preferred to every other. Caxton's and the Dutch appear, at best, but as the skeleton of what after-tributed to it, so all Europe has enjoyed it. wards became a body; of the old Walloon version, said to have been discovered lately, we are taught to entertain a similar opinion:* in the existing French versions, which are all ulder, either in Gielée's, or in the others, there is even less analogy. Loosely conjoined, therefore, and only in the state of dry bones, was it that Hinrek, or Nicolaus, or some Lower-Saxon whoever he might be, found the story; and blowing on it with the breath of genius, raised it up into a consistent Fable. Many additions and some exclusions he must have made; was probably enough assisted by personal experience of a Court, whether that of Juliers or some other; perhaps also he admitted personal allusions, and doubtless many an oblique glance at existing things: and thus was produced the Low-German Reineke de Fos, which version, shortly after its appearance, had extinguished all the rest, and come to be, what it still is, the sole veritable representative of Reynard, inasmuch as all subsequent translations and editions have derived themselves from it.

The farther history of Reinecke is easily traced. In this new guise, it spread abroad over all the world, with a scarcely exampled rapidity; fixing itself also as a firm possession in most countries, where, indeed, in this character, we still find it. It was printed and rendered, innumerable times: in the original dialect alone, the last Editor has reckoned up more than twenty Editions; on one of which, for example, we find such a name as that of Heinrich Voss. It was first translated into High-German in 1545; into Latin in 1567, by Hartmann Schopper, whose smooth style and rough fortune keep him in memory with Scholars a new version into short German verse appeared next century; in our own times, Goethe has not disdained to re-produce it, by means of his own, in a third shape: Of Soltau's version, into literal doggerel, we have already testified. Long generations before, it had been manufactured into Prose, for the use of the people, and was sold on stalls; where still, with the needful changes in spelling, and printed on grayest paper, it tempts the speculative eye.

* See Scheller; (Reineke de Fos, To Brunswyk, 1825;) Vorrede.

So much for the outward fortunes of this remarkable Book. It comes before us with a character such as can belong only to a very few; that of being a true world's-Book, which through centuries was everywhere at home, the spirit of which diffused itself into all languages and all minds. These quaint sopic figures have painted themselves in innumerable heads; that rough, deep-lying humour has been the laughter of many generations. So that, at worst, we must regard this Reinecke as an ancient Idol, once worshipped, and still interesting for that circumstance, were the sculpture never so rude. We can love it, moreover, as being indigenous, wholly of our own creation: it sprang up from European sense and character, and was a faithful type and organ of these.

But independently of all extrinsic considerations, this Fable of Reinecke may challenge a judgment on its own merits. Cunningly constructed, and not without a true poetic life, we must admit it to be: great power of concep tion and invention, great pictorial fidelity, a warm, sunny tone of colouring, are manifest enough. It is full of broad, rustic mirth; inexhaustible in comic devices; a World-Saturnalia, where Wolves tonsured into Monks, and

dedicating it to the Emperor, with doleful complaints, fruitless or not is unknown. For now poor Hartmann, no longer an Autobiographer, quite vanishes, and we can understand only that he laid his wearied back one day in a most still bed, where the blanket of the Night softly enwrapped him and all his woes.--His Book is entitled Opus poeticum de admirabili Fallacià et Astutia Vulpecula Reinekes, &c. &c. ; and in the Dedication and Preface contains all these details.

+ While engaged in this Translation, at Freiburg in Baden, he was impressed as a soldier, and carried, apparently in fetters, to Vienna, having given his work to another to finish. At Vienna he stood not long in the ranks; having fallen violently sick, and being thrown out into the streets to recover there. He says, "he was without bed, and had to seek quarters on the muddy pavement, in a Barrel." Here too, in the night, some excessively straitened individual stole from him his cloak and sabre. However, men were not all hyenas; one Josias Hufnagel, unknown to him, but to whom by his writings he was known, took him under roof, procured medical assistance, equipped him anew; so that "in the harvest season, being half-cured, he could return or rather re-crawl to Frankfort on the Mayn." There too "a Magister Johann Cuipius, Christian Egenolph's son-in-law, kindly received him," and encouraged him to finish his Translation; as accordingly he did,ers,'

* Besides Caxton's original, of which little is known among us but the name, we have two versions; one in 1667,"with excellent Morals and Expositions," which was reprinted in 1681, and followed in 1684 by a continuation, called the Shifts of Reynardine the Son of Reynard, of English growth; another in 1708, slightly altered from the former, explaining what appears doubtful or allegorical; "it being originally written." says the brave editor elsewhere, "by an eminent Statesman of the German Empire, to show some Men their Follies, and correct the Vices of the Times he lived in." only Reynardine but a second Appendix, Cawood the Rook, appears here; also there are "curious Devices, or Pictures."-Of editions "printed for the Flying-Station. we say nothing.

Not

nigh starved by short commons, Foxes pilgrim- | at heart, and furnished even with shoes, cut ing to Rome for absolution, Cocks pleading from the living hides of Isegrim and Isegrim's at the judgment-bar, make strange mummery. much-injured spouse, his worst enemies. How, Nor is this wild Parody of Human Life with- the Treasures not making their appearance, out its meaning and moral: it is an Air-pa- but only new misdeeds, he is again haled to geant from Fancy's Dream-grotto, yet Wis- judgment; again glozes the general ear with dom lurks in it; as we gaze, the vision be- sweetest speeches; at length, being challenged comes poetic and prophetic. A true Irony to it, fights Isegrim in knightly tourney, and by must have dwelt in the Poet's heart and head; the cunningest, though the most unchivalrous here, under grotesque shadows, he gives us method, not to be farther specified in polite the saddest picture of Reality; yet for us with- writing, carries off a complete victory; and out sadness; his figures mask themselves in having thus, by wager of battle, manifested his uncouth, bestial vizards, and enact, gambol- innocence, is overloaded with royal favour; ing: their Tragedy dissolves into sardonic created Chancellor, and Pilot to weather the grins. He has a deep, heartfelt Humour, Storm; and so, in universal honour and ausporting with the world and its evils in kind thority, reaps the fair fruit of his gifts and lamockery: this is the poetic soul, round which bours. the outward material has fashioned itself into living coherence. And so, in that rude old Apologue, we have still a mirror, though now tarnished and time-worn, of true magic reality; and can discern there, in cunning reflex, some image both of our destiny and of our duty: for now, as then, " Prudence is the only virtue sure of its reward," and cunning triumphs where Honesty is worsted; and now, as then, it is the wise man's part to know this, and cheerfully look for it, and cheerfully defy it:

Ut vulpis adulatio

Here through his own world moveth,
Sic hominis et rutio

Most like to Reynard's proveth.*

If Reinecke is nowise a perfect Comic Epos, it has various features of such, and, above all, a genuine Epic spirit, which is the rarest fea

ture.

Whereby shall each to wisdom turn,
Evil eschew, and virtue learn,
Therefore was this same story wrote,
That is its aim, and other not.
This Book for little price is sold,
But image clear of world doth hold;
Whoso into the world would look,
My counsel is,-he buy this book.
So endeth Reynard's Fox's story:
God help us all to heavenly glory!

vociferation of Chanticleer; the hysterical
promptitude, and earnest profession and pro-
testation of poor Lampe the Hare; the thick-
headed ferocity of Isegrim; the sluggish, glut
tonous
opacity of Bruin; above all, the craft,
the tact, and inexhaustible knavish adroitness
of Reinecke himself, are in strict accuracy of

It has been objected that the animals in Rienecke are not Animals, but Men disguised; to which objection, except in so far as grounded on the necessary indubitable fact that this is an Apologue or emblematic Fable, and no Chapter of Natural History, we cannot in any considerable degree accede. Nay, that very contrast between Object and Effort, where the Passions of men develope themselves on the Of the Fable, and its incidents and struc- Interests of animals, and the whole is hudture, it is perhaps superfluous to offer any dled together in chaotic mockery, is a main sketch; to most readers the whole may be al- charm of the picture. For the rest, we should ready familiar. How Noble, King of the rather say, these bestial characters were moBeasts, holding a solemn Court, one Whitsun-derately well sustained: the vehement, futile tide, is deafened on all hands with complaints against Reinecke; Hinze the Cat, Lampe the Hare, Isegrim the Wolf, with innumerable others, having suffered from his villany, Isegrim especially, in a point which most keenly touches honour; nay, Chanticleer the Cock, (Henning de Hane,) amid bitterest wail, appear ing even with the corpus delicti, the body of one of his children, whom that arch-knave has feloniously murdered with intent to eat. How his indignant Majesty thereupon despatches Bruin the Bear to cite the delinquent in the King's name; how Bruin, inveigled into a Honey-Expedition, returns without his errand, without his ears, almost without his life; Hinze the Cat, in a subsequent expedition, faring no better. How at last Reinecke, that he may not have to stand actual siege in his fortress of Malapertus, does appear for trial, and is about to be hanged, but on the gallows-ladder makes a speech unrivalled in forensic eloquence, and saves his life; nay, having incidentally hinted at some Treasures, the hidingplace of which is well known to him, rises into high favour; is permitted to depart on that pious pilgrimage to Rome he has so much

costume. Often also their situations and occupations are bestial enough. What quantities of bacon and other provant do Isegrim and Reinecke forage; Reinecke contributing the scheme,—for the two were then in partnership,-and Isegrim paying the shot in broken bones! What more characteristic than the fate of Bruin, when, ill-counselled, he introduces his stupid head into Rustefill's half-split log, has the wedges whisked away, and stands clutched there, as in a vice, and uselessly roaring, disappointed of honey, sure only of a beating without parallel! Not to forget the Mare, whom, addressing her by the title of Good-wife, with all politeness, Isegrim, sorepinched with hunger, asks whether she will sell her foal: she answers, that the price is written on her hinder hoof; which document the intending purchaser, being "an Erfurt graduate," declares his full ability to read; but finds there no writing, or print, save only the print of six horsenails on his own mauled visage. And abundance of the like; sufficient

TAYLOR'S HISTORIC SURVEY OF GERMAN

POETRY.*

[EDINBURGH REVIEW, 1831.]

hurrying nothing into chaos but themselves. | of it, or, which is the still surer course, altoWhile again, Schiller's Tragedy of the Robbers, gether to hold his peace. Hence freedom from which did not inflame either the young or the much babble that was wont to be oppressive: old nobility of Germany to rob in the forests of probably no watchhorn with such a note as Bohemia, or indeed to do any thing, except per- that of Mrs. More's can again be sounded, by haps yawn a little less, proved equally innocu- male or female Dogberry, in these Islands. ous in England, and might still be acted without Again, there is no one of our younger, more offence, could living individuals, idle enough vigorous Periodicals, but has its German for that end, be met with here. Nay, this same craftsman, gleaning what he can: we have Schiller, not indeed by Robbers, yet by Wallen-seen Jean Paul quoted in English Newspapers. steins, by Maids of Orleans, and Wilhelm Tells, has actually conquered for himself a fixed dominion among us, which is yearly widening; round which other German kings, of less intrinsic prowess, and of greater, are likewise erecting thrones. And yet, as we perceive, civilized society still stands in its place; and the public taste, as well as the public virtue, live on, though languidly, as before. For, in fine, it has become manifest that the old Cimmerian forest is now quite felled and tilled; that the true Children of Night, whom we have to dread, dwell not on the banks of the Danube, but nearer hand.

Nor, among the signs of improvement, at least of extended curiosity, let us omit our British Foreign Reviews, a sort of merchantmen that regularly visit the Continental, especially the German ports, and bring back such ware as luck yields them, with the hope of better. Last, not least among our evidences of PhiloGermanism, here is a whole Historic Survey of German Poetry, in three sufficient octavos; and this not merely in the eulogistic and recommendatory vein, but proceeding in the way of criticism, and indifferent, impartial narrative: a man of known character, of talent, experience, penetration, judges that the English public is prepared for such a service, and likely to reward it.

These are appearances, which, as advocates for the friendly approximation of all men and all peoples, and the readiest possible interchange of whatever each produces of advantage to the others, we must witness gladly. Free Literary intercourse with other nations, what is it but an extended Freedom of the Press; a liberty to read (in spite of Ignorance, of Prejudice, which is the worst of Censors) what our foreign teachers also have printed for us?-ultimately, therefore, a liberty to speak and to hear, were it with men of all countries and of all times; to use, in utmost compass, those precious natural organs, by which not Knowledge only but mutual Affection is chiefly generated among mankind! It is a natural wish in man to know his fellow-passengers in this Strange Ship, or Planet, on this strange Life-voyage: neither need his curiosity restrict itself to the cabin where he himself chances to lodge; but may extend to all acces

Could we take our progress in knowledge of German Literature since that diatribe was written, as any measure of our progress in the science of Criticism, above all in the grand science of national Tolerance, there were some reason for satisfaction. With regard to Germany itself, whether we yet stand on the right footing, and know at last how we are to live in profitable neighbourhood and intercourse with that country; or whether the present is but one of those capricious tides, which also will have its reflux, may seem doubtful: meanwhile, clearly enough, a rapidly growing favour for German Literature comes to light; which favour too is the more hopeful, as it now grounds itself on better knowledge, on direct study and judgment. Our knowledge is better, if only because more general. Within the last ten years, independent readers of German have multiplied perhaps a hundred fold; so that now this acquirement is almost expected as a natural item in liberal education. Hence, in a great number of minds, some immediate personal insight into the deeper sig-sible departments of the vessel. In all he nificance of German Intellect and Art; will find mysterious beings, of Wants and everywhere, at least a feeling that it has some Endeavours like his own; in all he will find such significance. With independent readers, Men; with these let him comfort and manimoreover, the writer ceases to be independent, foldly instruct himself. As to German Literawhich of itself is a considerable step. Our ture, in particular, which professes to be not British Translators, for instance, have long only new, but original, and rich in curious inbeen unparalleled in modern literature, and, formation for us; which claims, moreover, like their country, "the envy of surrounding nothing that we have not granted to the French, nations:" but now there are symptoms that, Italian, Spanish, and in a less degree to far even in the remote German province, they meaner literatures, we are gratified to see that must no longer range quite at will; that the such claims can no longer be resisted. In the butchering of a Faust will henceforth be present fallow state of our English Literature, accounted literary homicide, and practitioners when no Poet cultivates his own poetic field, of that quality must operate on the dead sub- but all are harnessed into Editorial teams, and ject only. While there are Klingemanns and ploughing in concert, for Useful Knowledge, Claurens in such abundance, let no merely or Bibliopolic Profit, we regard this renewal ambitious, or merely hungry Interpreter, fasten of our intercourse with poetic Germany, after on Goethes and Schillers. Remark, too, with twenty years of languor or suspension, as satisfaction, how the old established British among the most remarkable and even promisCritic now feels that it has become unsafe ing features of our recent intellectual history. to speak delirium on this subject; wherefore In the absence of better tendencies, iet this, he prudently restricts himself to one of two which is no idle, but, in some points of view, courses: either to acquire some understanding a deep and earnest one, be encouraged. For