Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 November 1885 — The Fox in Fiction. [ARTICLE]

The Fox in Fiction.

In fables the character! of the fox is dual. It is generally the deceiver, but Also on occasions the dupe. Many animals on occasions fall a victim to it—in the single romance of Reihcke Fuchs it outwits and infamously ruins the king lion and pretty yearly all his courtier quadrupeds—but every now and again the same animals flout it, make fun of it, play tricks on it. Even cocks and kids have a joke occasionally at its expense, which is very true to nature, for we often see the professional sharper, the habitual traitor, exposed and put to shame by simple honesty or innocent mother wit. Betty with her mop routs the fencing master. But, above all, the fox is always beaten when he tries to pass off his dishonesties upon other foxes; the rogues know each other too well to try to guess where the pea is. So when the fox falls by accident into a dyer’s vat, and comes out a fine blue all over, he goes back to his kindred and tells them that he is a peacock of the sky. But they recognize his voice and worry him till they pull all his blue fur off, and he dies. Stories of the same purport are abundant and familiar to’ all. Yet there are plenty of occasions in which the fox behaves very honorable to its friends and appears in the light of a benefactor, notably in those tales where reynard plays the part of Puss-in-Boots, such as Cosmo the Quickly Enriched, and others. Moreover, the cock is sometimes found on the most friendly relations with the fox, who helps it against their common enemy, the wolf. It is almost needless to say that many poets condemn fox hunting, “which rural gentlemen call sport divine,” and perhaps superfluous to add that their reasons hardly justify their condemnation. To them the sportsman appears something rather less than human. To the field he flies, Leaps every fence but one, then falls and dies Like a slain deer; the tumbril brings him home, Unmissed but by his dogs and by his groom. Especially does this class of poet detest to see women in the field. Far be the spirit of the chase from them I Uncomely courage, unbeseeming skill, To spring the fence, to rein the prancing steed. They hope “such horrid joy” will never “stain the bosom of the British fair.”— Gentleman's Magazine.