The bird—lectern or not—has round its head a kind of aureola or glory; it is probably an eagle, but who shall say it is not a dove? The religiously-garbed foxes are alone unmistakable.
At Boston we have a mitred Fox, enthroned in the episcopal seat in full canonicals, clutching at a cock which stands near, while another bird is at the side. Close by the throne, another fox, in a cowl only, is reading from a book.
At Christchurch, Hampshire, we see the Fox on a seat-elbow, in a pulpit of good design, and near him, on a stool, the Cock; it appears in the initial of this article.
At Worcester, a scapularied Fox is kneeling before a small table or altar, laying his hand with an affectation of reverence upon—a sheep’s head. This is one of the side carvings to the misericorde of the three mowers, considered under the head of “Trinities.”
EPISCOPAL HYPOCRISY, BOSTON.
The Fox seizing the Hen, at Windsor, reminds of the Fable, yet in so many other instances it is the Cock who is the prey. Still further removing the carvings out of the sphere of the Fable is a carving at Chicester of the Fox playing the harp to a goose, while an ape dances; and another at St. George’s, Windsor, in which it is an ape who wears the stole, and is engaged in the laying on of hands. In the Fable the Fox teaches the Hare the Creed, yet in a carving at Manchester it is his two young cubs whom he is teaching from a book.
The Fox in the Shell of Salvation, artfully discoursing on the merits of a bottle of holy water, as drawn on [page 58], may be considered a Preaching Fox.
There is at Nantwich a carving which, unlike any of those already noticed, is closely illustrative of an incident of the epic. It represents the story told to Nouvel’s court by the widower Crow. He and his wife, in travelling through the country, came across what they thought was the dead body of Reynard on the heath. He was stiff, his tongue protruded, his eyes were inverted. They lamented his unhappy fate, and “course so early run.” The lady approached his chin, not, indeed, with any idea of commencing a meal; far from that, it was to ascertain if perchance any signs of life remained, when—snap! Her head was off! The Crow himself had the melancholy luck to fly to a tree, there to sit and watch his wife eaten up. In the carving we have the crows first coming upon the sight of the counterfeit carrion as it lies near a rabbit warren. To shew how perfect is Reynard’s semblance of death, the rear portions of two rabbits are to be seen as they hurry into their holes on the approach of the crows, the proximity of the Fox not having previously alarmed them.
The side figures have no simultaneous connection with the central composition, being merely representations of Reynard, once more as a larder regarder. The pilgrim’s hat, borne by one of the figures, is a further reminder of the Fable, and the monkish garb is of course in keeping. These two are somewhat singular in being fox-headed men. At Chester, also, is a Fox feigning death.