We have a great respect for lions in the abstract. In common with
most other people, we have heard and read of many instances of their
bravery and generosity. We have duly admired that heroic self-denial
and charming philanthropy which prompts them never to eat people
except when they are hungry, and we have been deeply impressed with a
becoming sense of the politeness they are said to display towards
unmarried ladies of a certain state. All natural histories teem with
anecdotes illustrative of their excellent qualities; and one old
spelling book in particular recounts a touching instance of an old
lion, of high moral dignity and stern principle, who felt it his
imperative duty to devour a young man who had contracted a habit of
swearing, as a striking example to the rising generation.
All this is extremely pleasant to reflect upon, and, indeed, says a
very great deal in favour of lions as a mass. We are bound to state,
however, that such individual lions as we have happened to fall in
with have not put forth any very striking characteristics, and have
not acted up to the chivalrous character assigned them by their
chroniclers. We never saw a lion in what is called his natural state,
certainly; that is to say, we have never met a lion out walking in a
forest, or crouching in his lair under a tropical sun, waiting till
his dinner should happen to come by, hot from the baker’s. But we
have seen some pressure of misfortune; and we must say that they
appeared to us very apathetic, heavy-headed fellows.
The lion at the Zoological Gardens, for instance. He is all very well
he has an undeniable mane, and looks very fierce; but, Lord bless us!
what of that? The lions of the fashionable world look just as
ferocious, and are the most harmless creatures breathing. A box-bobby
lion or a Regent-street animal will put on a most terrible aspect,
and roar fearfully, if you affront him; but he will never bite, and,
if you offer to attack him manfully, will fairly turn tail and sneak
off. Doubtless these creatures roam about sometimes in herds, and, if
they meet any especially meek-looking and peaceably-disposed fellow,
will endeavor to frighten him; but the faintest show of a vigorous
resistance is sufficient to scare them even then. These are pleasant
characteristics, whereas we make it matter of distinct charge against
the Zoological lion and his brethren at the fairs, that they are
sleepy, dreamy, sluggish quadrupeds.
We do not remember to have ever seen one of them perfectly awake,
except at feeding time. In every respect we uphold the biped lions
against their four-footed namesakes, and we boldly challenge
controversy upon the subject.
With these opinions it may be easily imagined that our curiosity and
interest were very much excited the other day, when a lady of our
acquaintance called on us and resolutely declined to accept our
refusal of her invitation to an evening party; “for,” said she, “I
have got a lion coming.” We at once retracted our plea of a prior
engagement and became as anxious to go, as we had previously been to
stay away.
We went early, and posted ourselves in an eligible part of the
drawing-room, from whence we could hope to obtain a full view of the
interesting animal. Two or three hours passed, the quadrilles began,
the room filled; but no lion appeared. The lady of the house became
inconsolable,—for it is one of the peculiar privileges of these lions
to make solemn appointments and never keep them,—when all of a sudden
there came a tremendous double rap at the street door, and the master
of the house, after gliding out (unobserved as he flattered himself)
to peep over the banisters, came into the room, rubbing his hands
together with great glee, and cried out in a very important voice,
“My dear, Mr.——(naming the lion) has this moment arrived.”
Upon this, all eyes were turned towards the door, and we observed
several young ladies, who had been laughing and conversing previously
with great gaiety and good humour, grow extremely quiet and
sentimental; while some young gentlemen, who had been cutting great
figures in the facetious and small-talk way, suddenly sank very
obviously in the estimation of the company, and were looked upon with
great coldness and indifference. Even the young man who had been
ordered from the music shop to play the pianoforte was visibly
affected, and struck several false notes in the excess of his
excitement.
All this time there was a great talking outside, more than once
accompanied by a loud laugh, and a cry of “Oh! capital! Excellent!”
from which we inferred that the lion was jocose, and that theses
exclamations were occasioned by the transports of his keeper and our
host. Nor were we deceived; for when the lion at last appeared, we
overheard his keeper, who was a little prim man, whisper to several
gentlemen of his acquaintance, with uplifted hands, and every
expression of half-suppressed admiration, that——(naming the lion
again) was in such cue to-night!
The lion was a literary one. Of course, there were a vast number of
people present who had admired his roarings, and were anxious to be
introduced to him; and very pleasant it was to see them brought up
for the purpose, and to observe the patient dignity with which he
received all their patting and caressing. This brought forcibly to
our mind what we had so often witnessed at country fairs, where the
other lions are compelled to go through as many forms of courtesy as
they chance to be acquainted with, just as often as admiring parties
happen to drop in upon them.
While the lion was exhibiting in this way, his keeper was not idle,
for he mingled among the crowd and spread his praises most
industriously. To one gentleman he whispered some very choice thing
that the noble animal had said in the very act of coming up stairs,
which, of course, rendered the mental effort still more astonishing;
to another he murmured a hasty account of a grand dinner that had
taken place the day before, where twenty-seven gentlemen had got up
all at once to demand an extra cheer for the lion; and to the ladies
he made sundry promises of interceding to procure the majestic
brute’s sign-manual for their albums. Then, there were little private
consultations in different corners, relative to the personal
appearance and stature of the lion; whether he was shorter than they
had expected to see him, or taller, or thinner, or fatter, or
younger, or older; whether he was like his portrait, or unlike it;
and whether the particular shade of his eyes was black, or blue, or
hazel, or green, or yellow, or mixture. At all these consultations
the keeper assisted; and, in short, the lion was the sole and single
subject of discussion till they sat him down to whilst, and then the
people relapsed into their old topics of conversation—themselves and
each other.
We must confess that we looked forward with no slight impatience to
the announcement of supper; for if you wish to see a tame lion under
particularly favourable circumstances, feeding time is the period of
all others to pitch upon. We were therefore very much delighted to
observe a sensation among the guests, which we well knew how to
interpret, and immediately afterwards to behold the lion escorting
the lady of the house downstairs. We offered our arm to an elderly
female of our acquaintance, who—dear old soul!—is the very best
person that ever lived, to lead down to any meal; for, be the room
ever so small, or the porty ever so large, she is sure, by some
intuitive perception of the eligible, to push and pull herself and
conductor close to the best dishes on the table;—we say we offered
our arm to this elderly female, and, descending the stairs shortly
after the lion, were fortunate enough to obtain a seat nearly
opposite him.
Of course the keeper was there already. He had planted himself at
precisely that distance from his charge which afforded him a decent
pretext for raising his voice, when he addressed him, to so loud a
key, as could not fail to attract the attention of the whole company,
and immediately began to apply himself seriously to the task of
bringing the lion out, and putting him through the whole of his
manoeuvres. Such flashes of wit as he elicited from the lion! First of
all, they began to make puns upon a salt-cellar, and then upon the
breast of a fowl, and then upon the trifle; but the best jokes of all
were decidedly on the lobster salad, upon which latter subject the
lion came out most vigorously, and, in the opinion of the most
competent authorities, quite outshone himself. This is a very
excellent mode of shining in society, and is founded, we humbly
conceive, upon the classic model of the dialogues between Mr. Punch
and his friend the proprietor, wherein the latter takes all the
uphill work, and is content to pioneer to the jokes and repartees of
Mr. P. himself, who never fails to gain great credit and excite much
laughter thereby. Whatever it be founded on, however, we recommend it
to all lions, present and to come; for in this instance it succeeded
to admiration, and perfectly dazzled the whole body of hearers.
When the salt-cellar, and the fowl’s breast, and the trifle, and the
lobster salad were all exhausted, and could not afford standing room
for another solitary witticism, the keeper performed that very
dangerous feat which is still done with some of the caravan lions,
although in one instance it terminated fatally, of putting his head
in the animal’s mouth, and placing himself entirely at its mercy.
Boswell frequently presents a melancholy instance of the lamentable
results of this achievement, and other keepers and jackals have been
terribly lacerated for their daring. It is due to our lion to state,
that he condescended to be trifled with, in the most gentle manner,
and finally went home with the showman in a hack cab: perfectly
peaceable, but slightly fuddled.
Being in a contemplative mood, we were led to make some reflections
upon the character and conduct of this genus of lions as we walked
homewards, and we were not long in arriving at the conclusion that
our former impression in their favour was very much strengthened and
confirmed by what we had recently seen. While the other lions receive
company and compliments in a sullen, moody, not to say snarling manner,
these appear flattered by the attentions that are paid them; while
those conceal themselves to the utmost of their power from the vulgar
gaze, these court the popular eye, and, unlike their brethren, whom
nothing short of compulsion will move to exertion, are ever ready to
display their acquirements to the wondering throng. We have known bears
of undoubted ability who, when the expectations of a large audience
have been wound up to the utmost pitch, have peremptorily refused to
dance; well-taught monkeys, who have unaccountably objected to exhibit
on the slack wire; and elephants of unquestioned genius, who have
suddenly declined to turn the barrel-organ; but we never once knew or
heard of a biped lion, literary or otherwise,—and we state it as a
fact which is highly creditable to the whole species,—who, occasion
offering, did not seize with avidity on any opportunity which was
afforded him, of performing to his heart’s content on the first violin.