Reynard the Fox

I drove over to the big bookstore to look around this evening. I had nothing in particular on my mind, just wanted to stop in, maybe grab a bite to eat, look at a book. I sat down to a grilled cheese sandwich, loaded up with four different cheeses, and some chips and an iced tea. The book I selected was in the marked-down section—a paperback entitled, “How to Draw Anything.” I thought it might be pleasant to pick up a pencil and be able to draw something, anything at all. I looked at the simple sketches, thought how hopeless it all looked. The artist, a British woman with a good sense of humor, laid out the approach well enough, but didn’t take into account that there were people in her audience like me. Learning any new skill requires determination, perseverance, and an abiding desire to actually pick up the new knowledge. Those are things I’ve done without for quite a while now; no sense in changing things up at this point.

I did look at her sketches of animals and—in particular—cats, her favorite subject. She made drawings of her cat, referring to him as a “moggy.” I gathered quickly enough that a moggy, or moggies, were mixed-breed cats in England. She drew also foxes, which are called “renards” in French. She used a name dating from centuries ago, which is, “Reynard.” She also called them foxes, of course, but I was interested in how this Reynard business came to be.

These things I have learned, regarding the name Reynard. In the late fourteenth century, somewhere in Europe, an Englishman translated a fable that appeared maybe first in Flemish. The exact date of the translation is cited as being 1482. The fable itself is much older. In this story, which I have begun to read, a lion—king of all the forest—is holding court, hearing complaints about Reynard the fox. The wolf is first, lamenting the fact that Reynard entered his house and “bepissed” his two sleeping children. I won’t speculate here on what exactly “bepissing” entails, but I will add that it caused his sons to go blind. Understandably, the wolf was none too pleased, wanted the lion king to do something about Reynard.

Then it was the hound’s turn, seemingly offering a rather petty grievance, but one that the king heard nonetheless. It seems that he had put aside some meat pudding for the winter months, this being—according to the hound—his only sustenance for the cold and bitter season. He claims that Reynard took this pudding from him.

The cat was next, being named Tybert, and spoke in an “irous mood.” He was the only animal to come to Reynard’s defense, explaining that the pudding was rightfully his, having stolen it from a sleeping miller. As for the other complaints, he said that they’d happened a long time ago, were no longer worthy of consideration. Water under the bridge, as it were.

Then the panther broke in, had some words with the cat, with whom he didn’t see eye to eye, but expressed his disagreement politely and with no undue excitement. He explained that the fox in question, Reynard, had been trying to teach a hen in the woods his credo, so that the hen would go forth and be bettered for having learned this new thing. When the panther chanced upon the improbable pair, the fox had the hen between his legs, shouting, “Credo! Credo!” and was on the verge of eating the hen altogether. It seems the fox hadn’t intended to teach the hen anything at all, had made a false promise to gain the hen’s confidence.

The subtext here is beyond me, having to do with corruption among men in power, those who would use religion to subdue and silence the masses, would impose upon the poor their false piety—and on and on. For me, it is a funny story involving animals that talk. If I try to read more into it, I just get tired. William Caxton is attributed the translation of 1481. William Morley (1822-1894) a physician and lecturer and altogether learned fellow, produced the edited version, but retained—insofar as possible—the original language. It is thus that we find the cat in an “irous mood.” Morley writes that, “Reynard or Reginhard means absolutely hard, a hardened evil-doer whom there is no turning from his way. It is altogether out of this old story that the fox has come by that name.” As I mentioned before, the French word for fox is “renard.”