pers, and comes out
glorious, victorious, amidst the applause of a gazing
world; and, to crown it all, the poet tells us that under
the disguise of the animal name and form the world
of man is represented, and the true course of it; and
the idea of the book is, that we who read it may learn
therein to discern between good and evil, and choose
the first and avoid the last. It seemed beyond the
power of sophistry to whitewash Reineke, and the
interest which still continued to cling to him in us seemed
too nearly to resemble the unwisdom of the multitude,
with whom success is the one virtue and failure the
only crime.

It appeared, too, that although the animal disguises
were too transparent to endure a moment's reflection,
yet that they were so gracefully worn that such
moment's reflection was not to be come at without an
effort. Our imagination following the costume did
imperceptibly betray our judgment; we admired the
human intellect, the ever ready prompt sagacity and
presence of mind. We delighted in the satire on the
foolishnesses and greedinesses of our own fellow
mankind; but in our regard for the hero we forgot his
humanity wherever it was his interest that we should
forget it, and while we admired him as a man we
judged him only as a fox. We doubt whether it would
have been possible if he had been described as an open
acknowledged biped in coat and trousers, to have
retained our regard for him. Something or other in
us, either real rightmindedness, or humbug, or
hypocrisy, would have obliged us to mix more censure with
our liking than most of us do in the case as it stands.
It may be that the dress of the fox throws us off our
guard, and lets out a secret or two which we commonly
conceal even from ourselves. When we have to pass
an opinion upon bad people, who at the same time are
clever and attractive, we say rather what we think
we ought to feel than our real sensations; while
with Reineke, being but an animal, we forget to make
ourselves up, and for once our genuine tastes show
themselves freely .... Some degree of truth there
undoubtedly is in this .... But making all allowance for
it--making all and over allowance for the trick which is
passed upon our senses, there still remained a feeling
unresolved. The poem was not solely the apotheosis
of a rascal in whom we were betrayed into taking an
interest. And it was not a satire merely on the world,
and on the men whom the world delight to honour;
th