THE TOWER MENAGERIE.
THE
TOWER MENAGERIE:
COMPRISING
THE NATURAL HISTORY
OF THE
ANIMALS CONTAINED IN THAT ESTABLISHMENT;
WITH
Anecdotes of their Characters and History.
ILLUSTRATED BY
PORTRAITS OF EACH, TAKEN FROM LIFE, BY WILLIAM HARVEY;
AND ENGRAVED ON WOOD BY BRANSTON AND WRIGHT.
[Illustration]
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR ROBERT JENNINGS, POULTRY;
AND SOLD BY W. F. WAKEMAN, DUBLIN.
M DCCC XXIX.
CHISWICK:
PRINTED BY CHARLES WHITTINGHAM
COLLEGE HOUSE.
[Illustration]
TO
HIS MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY
KING GEORGE THE FOURTH,
THE
MUNIFICENT PATRON OF THE ARTS AND SCIENCES,
This Volume,
IN WHICH IT IS ATTEMPTED TO COMBINE BOTH ART AND SCIENCE
IN THE
ILLUSTRATION OF HIS ROYAL MENAGERIE,
IS,
BY HIS MAJESTY’S MOST GRACIOUS PERMISSION,
HUMBLY INSCRIBED.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION ix
BENGAL LION 1
LIONESS AND CUBS 11
CAPE LION 17
BARBARY LIONESS 24
TIGER 25
LEOPARD 35
JAGUAR 41
PUMA 49
OCELOT 53
CARACAL 57
CHETAH, OR HUNTING LEOPARD 61
STRIPED HYÆNA 71
HYÆNA-DOG 77
SPOTTED HYÆNA 81
AFRICAN BLOODHOUND 83
WOLF 89
CLOUDED BLACK WOLF 93
JACKAL 97
CIVET, OR MUSK CAT 99
JAVANESE CIVET 103
GRAY ICHNEUMON 105
PARADOXURUS 107
BROWN COATI 109
RACOON 111
AMERICAN BLACK BEAR 115
GRIZZLY BEAR 121
THIBET BEAR 129
BORNEAN BEAR 133
EGRET MONKEY? 144
COMMON MACAQUE 145
BONNETED MONKEY, VAR. 146
BONNETED MONKEY 147
PIG-FACED BABOON 148
BABOON 149
WHITE-HEADED MONGOOS 151
KANGUROO 155
PORCUPINE 161
ASIATIC ELEPHANT 163
ZEBRA OF THE PLAINS 177
LLAMA 181
RUSA-DEER 185
INDIAN ANTELOPE 191
AFRICAN SHEEP 197
GOLDEN EAGLE 201
GREAT SEA-EAGLE 202
BEARDED GRIFFIN 203
GRIFFON VULTURE 205
SECRETARY 209
VIRGINIAN HORNED OWL 213
DEEP-BLUE MACAW 215
BLUE AND YELLOW MACAW 217
YELLOW-CRESTED COCKATOO 219
NEW HOLLAND EMEU 221
CRESTED CRANE 225
PELICAN 227
ALLIGATOR 231
INDIAN BOA 233
ANACONDA 237
RATTLESNAKE 239
INTRODUCTION.
The origin of Menageries dates from the most remote antiquity. Their
existence may be traced even in the obscure traditions of the fabulous
ages, when the contests of the barbarian leader with his fellow-men were
relieved by exploits in the chase scarcely less adventurous, and when
the monster-queller was held in equal estimation with the warrior-chief.
The spoils of the chase were treasured up in common with the trophies
of the fight; and the captive brute occupied his station by the side
of the vanquished hero. It was soon discovered that the den and the
dungeon were not the only places in which this link of connexion might
be advantageously preserved, and the strength and ferocity of the forest
beast were found to be available as useful auxiliaries even in the
battle-field. The only difficulty to be surmounted in the application
of this new species of brute force to the rude conflicts of the times
consisted in giving to it the wished-for direction; and for this purpose
it was necessary that the animals to be so employed should be confined
in what may be considered as a kind of Menagerie, there to be rendered
subservient to the control, and obedient to the commands, of their
masters.
In the theology too of these dark ages many animals occupied a
distinguished place, and were not only venerated in their own proper
persons, on account of their size, their power, their uncouth figure,
their resemblance to man, or their supposed qualities and influence,
but were also looked upon as sacred to one or other of the interminable
catalogue of divinities, to whose service they were devoted, and on
whose altars they were sacrificed. For these also Menageries must
have been constructed, in which not only their physical peculiarities
but even their moral qualities must have been to a certain extent
studied; although the passions and prejudices of the multitude would
naturally corrupt the sources of information thus opened to them, by the
intermixture of exaggerated perversions of ill observed facts and by the
addition of altogether imaginary fables.
If to these two kinds of Menageries we add that which has every where
and under all circumstances accompanied the first dawn of civilization,
and which constitutes the distinguishing characteristic of man emerging
from a state of barbarism and entering upon a new and social state of
existence, the possession of flocks and herds, of animals useful in his
domestic economy, serviceable in the chase, and capable of sharing in his
daily toils, a tolerable idea may be formed of the collections which were
brought together in the earliest ages, and were more or less the subjects
of study to a race of men who were careless of every thing that had no
immediate bearing upon their feelings, their passions, or their interests.
But as civilization advanced, and the progress of society favoured
the developement of mind, when those who were no longer compelled by
necessity to labour for their daily bread found leisure to look abroad
with expanded views upon the wonders of the creation, the animal
kingdom presented new attractions and awakened ideas which had before
lain dormant. What was at first a mere sentiment of curiosity became
speedily a love of science; known objects were examined with more minute
attention; and whatever was rare or novel was no longer regarded with a
stupid stare of astonishment and an exaggerated expression of wonder, but
became the object of careful investigation and philosophic meditation.
Such was the state of things in civilized Greece when the Macedonian
conqueror carried his victorious arms to the banks of the Indus, and
penetrated into countries, not altogether unknown to Europeans, but the
natural productions of which were almost entirely new to the philosophers
of the West. With the true spirit of a man of genius, whose sagacity
nothing could escape, and whose views of policy were as profound as
the success of his arms was splendid, Alexander omitted no opportunity
of proving his devotion to the cause of science; and the extensive
collections of rare and unknown animals which he transmitted to his old
tutor and friend, in other words the Menagerie which he formed, laid the
foundation of the greatest, the most extensive, and the most original
work on zoology that has ever been given to the world. The first of
moral philosophers did not disdain to become the historian of the brute
creation, and Aristotle’s History of Animals remains a splendid and
imperishable record of his qualifications for the task.
Very different were the feelings by which the Roman generals and people
were swayed even in their most civilized times and at the height of their
unequalled power. Through all the gloss which history has thrown over
the character of these masters of the universe there appears a spirit
of unreclaimed barbarity which was never entirely shaken off. From the
scenes of their distant conquests their prætors sent to the metropolis
of the world bears and lions and leopards and tigers; but a love of
science had no share in the motives for the gratification of which they
were transmitted, and the chief curiosity manifested on such occasions by
the people of Rome was to ascertain how speedily hundreds or thousands,
as the case might happen, of these ferocious beasts would destroy each
other when turned out half-famished into the public amphitheatre, or
how long a band of African slaves, of condemned criminals, or of hired
gladiators, would be able to maintain the unequal contest against them.
The consul or emperor who exhibited at one time the greatest number of
animals to be thus tortured before the eyes of equally brutal spectators
was held in the highest esteem among a people who regarded themselves
as civilized, and whose chief delight was in witnessing these wanton
effusions of blood. It was only under the later Cæsars that a few private
individuals brought together in their _vivaria_ a considerable number of
rare and curious animals; and the Natural History of Pliny derives most
of its zoological value from the opportunities which he had of consulting
these collections. But the monstrous fables and the innumerable errors,
which the most superficial examination would have taught him to correct,
with which every page of this vast compilation absolutely teems, speak
volumes with regard to the wretched state of natural science in the most
splendid days of Roman greatness.
From the unsuspecting credulity with which this textbook of the
naturalists of the middle ages continued to be received, it is evident
that the science remained stationary, if it did not actually retrograde,
during the lapse of fourteen or fifteen centuries. The want of
opportunities of investigation may be regarded as the principal cause
of this lamentable deficiency. Some of the rarer animals, it is true,
were occasionally to be seen in Europe; but Menageries constructed
upon a broad and comprehensive plan were as yet unknown. The first
establishment of modern days, in which such a plan can fairly be said to
have been realised, was the Menagerie founded at Versailles by Louis the
Fourteenth. It is to this institution that we owe the Natural History of
Buffon and his coadjutor Daubenton; the one as eloquent as Pliny, with
little of his credulity, but with a greater share of imagination; and the
other a worthy follower of Aristotle in his habits of minute research
and patient investigation, but making no pretensions to the powerful and
comprehensive mind and the admirable facility of generalising his ideas
which so preeminently distinguished that great philosopher.
Of the characters of most of the institutions which we have noticed
the Tower Menagerie has at various times partaken in a greater or
less degree. Originally intended merely for the safe-keeping of those
ferocious beasts, which were until within the last century considered as
appertaining exclusively to the royal prerogative, it has occasionally
been converted into a theatre for their contests, and has terminated
by adapting itself to the present condition of society as a source of
rational amusement and a school of zoological science.
The first notice of a Royal Menagerie in England places this
establishment at Woodstock, where King Henry the First had a collection
of lions, leopards, and other strange beasts. Three leopards were
presented to Henry the Third by the Emperor Frederic the Second, himself
a zoologist of no mean rank. From Woodstock they were transferred to the
Tower; and numerous orders issued in this and the succeeding reigns to
the sheriffs of London and of the counties of Bedford and Buckingham to
provide for the maintenance of the animals and their keepers are extant
among the Records. Thus in the year 1252 the sheriffs of London were
commanded to pay four pence a day for the maintenance of a white bear;
and in the following year to provide a muzzle and chain to hold the said
bear while fishing, or washing himself, in the river Thames. In 1255 they
were directed to build a house in the Tower for an elephant which had
been presented to the king by Louis king of France; and a second writ
occurs in which they were ordered to provide necessaries for him and his
keepers.
From various orders during the reigns of Edward the First, Second, and
Third, we learn that the allowance for each lion or leopard was six pence
a day, and the wages of their keeper three halfpence. At later periods
the office of keeper of the lions was held by some person of quality
about the king, with a fee of six pence a day for himself, and the
same for every lion or leopard under his charge. On these terms it was
granted by King Henry the Sixth, first to Robert Mansfield, Esq. marshal
of his hall, and afterwards to Thomas Rookes, his dapifer. It was not
unfrequently held by the lieutenant or constable of the Tower himself,
on the condition of his providing a sufficient deputy. There was also
another office in the royal household somewhat resembling this in name,
that of master, guider, and ruler of the king’s bears and apes; but the
latter animals appear to have been kept solely for the royal “game and
pleasure.”
During all this period, and even almost down to our own times,
the common phrase of “seeing the lions” in the Tower appears to
have been almost literally correct, for we seldom hear of any other
animals confined there than lions or leopards. Howel tells us in his
Londinopolis, published in 1657, that there were then six lions in the
Tower, and makes no allusion to any other animals as being at that time
contained in it. In 1708 some improvement had taken place; for there were
then, according to Strype, no fewer than eleven lions, two leopards or
tigers (the worthy historian, it seems, knew not which), three eagles,
two owls, two cats of the mountain, and a jackal. Maitland gives a much
longer catalogue as existing there in 1754; and this is still further
extended in a little pamphlet entitled “An Historical Description of the
Tower of London and its Curiosities,” published in 1774. After this time,
however, the collection had been so greatly diminished both in value and
extent, that in the year 1822, when Mr. Alfred Cops, the present keeper,
succeeded to the office, the whole stock of the Menagerie consisted of
the grizzly bear, an elephant, and one or two birds. How rapidly and how
extensively the collection has increased under his superintendence will
best be seen by a reference to the numerous and interesting animals whose
natural history forms the subject of the present work. By his spirited
and judicious exertions the empty dens have been filled, and new ones
have been constructed; and the whole of them being now kept constantly
tenanted, the Menagerie affords a really interesting and attractive
spectacle to the numerous visiters who are drawn thither either from
motives of curiosity or by a love of science.
Such is a brief outline of the history up to the present period of the
establishment known as the Tower Menagerie. Of the animals contained
in it during the summer of 1828, and of two others which had then
recently died, the succeeding pages offer delineations, descriptions,
and anecdotes. Among so numerous a collection of inhabitants, of such
dissimilar habits, and brought together into one spot from such distant
and various climes, some changes have almost necessarily taken place
even while our work has been passing through the press; yet so excellent
is the management of Mr. Cops, especially as regards cleanliness, that
essential security of animal health, that not a single death has occurred
from disease, and one only from an accidental cause: the secretary bird,
having incautiously introduced its long neck into the den of the hyæna,
was deprived of it and of its head at one bite. Other removals are owing
to the spirit of commerce. The Cape lion, the chetahs, the Thibet bear,
and the deep-blue macaw, have passed into foreign hands, and are now on
the continent of Europe. Two of the wolves and one of the Javanese civets
have been transferred to the Zoological Society; and the white antelope
has also exchanged its habitation in the Tower for the delightful Garden
created by that Society in the Regent’s Park.
With the exceptions which have just been enumerated the whole of the
animals which are here figured and described are actually living in the
Tower Menagerie. Their continuance there affords a test of the fidelity
of our work which could not be applied to any production on zoology that
has yet appeared in this country, nor, to an equal extent, in any other.
As a visit to the Menagerie will enable the reader at once to compare
our representations and descriptions with their living prototypes, the
imperative necessity of scrupulous accuracy has been deeply impressed
throughout the whole undertaking on the minds of those who have been
engaged in its completion. In this, it is trusted, they have fully
succeeded. To explain the share which each has taken in the work, and to
record a debt of gratitude to those kind friends who have assisted in it,
is the pleasing duty which it now remains to fulfil.
The whole of the drawings are from the pencil of MR. WILLIAM HARVEY, who,
in seizing faithful and characteristic portraits of animals in restless
and almost incessant motion, has succeeded in overcoming difficulties
which can only be appreciated by those who have attempted similar
delineations. In the portraits he has strictly confined himself to the
chastity of truth; but in the vignettes, which have always some reference
to the subject of the article which they conclude, he has occasionally
held himself at liberty to give full scope to his imagination.
The engravings have been executed throughout by MESSRS. BRANSTON and
WRIGHT. Determined on securing the accuracy of the representations,
they have in every instance compared the proofs with the animals, and
have made corrections where necessary until the resemblance has been
rendered perfect. In one case alone has a deviation from the original
been indulged in: the tail of the ocelot has been figured of the length
usual in the species, instead of the truncated state in which it exists
in the specimen; the markings of the animal are, however, as noticed in
its article, accurately represented.
The literary department has been superintended by E. T. BENNETT, Esq.
F.L.S., an active member of the Zoological Society, who has arranged
for the press the whole of the materials collected from various and
authentic sources. To JOHN BAYLEY, Esq. F.R. and A.S. M.R.I.A. &c. he
is indebted for several suggestions in addition to the information
contained in that gentleman’s valuable work, “The History and Antiquities
of the Tower of London.” To MR. ALFRED COPS, the present KEEPER OF THE
LIONS, whose meritorious exertions for the increase and improvement of
the Menagerie have been already adverted to, he has also to tender his
thanks and those of his coadjutors for the facilities constantly afforded
to them in the most ready and obliging manner, and for much valuable
information relative to the history and habits of the animals.
But especially are his best thanks due for numerous suggestions and
much valuable assistance to his friend N. A. VIGORS, Esq. A.M. F.R. and
L.S., the zealous and talented SECRETARY of the ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY. To
that distinguished zoologist, whose extensive and intimate acquaintance
with the animal kingdom at large, and particularly with its feathered
tribes, is universally acknowledged, and to other leading Members of the
Society to which he devotes his talents and his time, a work like the
present appeared not ill adapted to advance the good cause in which they
are engaged, the diffusion of knowledge. Under their auspices it was
commenced, by their countenance it has been fostered, and it is with the
sanction of their approval that it is now submitted to the public eye.
LONDON, Nov. 1828.
[Illustration]
THE BENGAL LION.
_FELIS LEO._ LINN.--Var. BENGALENSIS.
First in majesty as in might, the monarch of the brute creation asserts
an undisputed claim to occupy the foremost place in our delineation of
the inhabitants of this Royal Menagerie. Who is there to whom his stately
mien, his unequalled strength, his tremendous powers of destruction,
combined with the ideas generally entertained of his dauntless courage,
his grateful affection, and his merciful forbearance, are not familiar
“as household words?” When we speak of a Lion, we call up to our
imaginations the splendid picture of might unmingled with ferocity,
of courage undebased by guile, of dignity tempered with grace and
ennobled by generosity; in a word, of all that combination of brilliant
qualities, the imputation of which, by writers of all ages, has placed
him by universal consent above other beasts, and invested him with regal
attributes.
Such, indeed, is the outline which we have been taught to frame to
ourselves of this noble animal; and beautifully has this imaginary
sketch, for such in a great measure it will be found on closer
examination, been filled up by the magic pencil of Buffon, who, in this,
as in too many other instances, suffered himself to be borne along by
the strong tide of popular opinion. Yielding to the current, instead of
boldly stemming it, he has added the weighty sanction of his authority
to those erroneous notions which were already consecrated by their
antiquity, and has produced a history of the Lion, which, however true
in its main facts, and however eloquent in its details, is, to say the
least, highly exaggerated and delusive in its colouring. The Lion of
Buffon is, in fact, the Lion of popular prejudice; it is not the Lion,
such as he appears to the calm observer, nor such as he is delineated in
the authentic accounts of those naturalists and travellers who have had
the best means of observing his habits, and recording the facts of which
they have been themselves eye witnesses.
The Lion, like all the other cats (the genus to which, in a natural
arrangement, he obviously belongs) is armed in each jaw with six strong
and exceedingly sharp cutting-teeth, with two formidable canine, and
with six others, three on each side, occupying the places of the molar
or grinding-teeth, but terminating in sharp protuberances to assist in
the laceration of the animal food, which is the proper nutriment of his
tribe. Besides these, he has, on each side of the upper jaw, a small
tooth, or rather tubercle, placed immediately behind the rest. His tongue
is covered with innumerable rough and elevated papillæ, the points of
which are directed backwards: these also assist in comminuting his food,
and not unfrequently leave their traces on the hand which has been
offered him to lick. His claws, five in number on the fore feet, and four
on the hind, are of great length, extremely hard, and much curved; they
are retractile within a sheath enclosed in the skin which covers the
extremity of his paws; and as they are only exposed when he has occasion
to make use of them, they thus preserve the sharpness of their edge and
the acuteness of their point unimpaired. In all these particulars the
Lion essentially agrees with the rest of the cats; and it is these which
constitute what naturalists have termed their generic character; in other
words, they are the points of agreement which are common to the whole
group or genus, and form the most prominent and striking characteristics,
by which they may be at once connected together and separated from all
other animals.
The Lion is distinguished from other cats by the uniformity of his
colour, which is pale tawny above, becoming somewhat lighter beneath,
and never, except in his young state, exhibiting the least appearance
of spots or stripes: by the long and flowing mane of the adult male,
which, originating nearly as far forward as the root of his nose, extends
backwards over his shoulders, and descends in graceful undulations on
each side of his neck and face; and by the tuft of long and blackish
hairs which terminates his powerful tail. These constitute what is termed
his specific character, or that which is peculiar to the species or
race; connecting the individuals together by marks common to them all,
and at the same time separating them from the other animals of the same
group or genus.
In his moral and intellectual faculties, as well as in his external
and physical characters, the Lion exhibits a close agreement with the
strikingly distinct and well marked group to which he belongs, and of
which he is unquestionably the first in rank and importance: and perhaps
the most effectual means of guarding against the general prejudice,
which has delighted in exalting him at the expense of his fellow beasts,
will be found in the recollection that, both physically and morally, he
is neither more nor less than a cat, of immense size and corresponding
power it is true, but not on that account the less endowed with all the
guileful and vindictive passions of that faithless tribe. His courage is
proverbial: this, however, is not derived from any peculiar nobility of
soul, but arises from the blind confidence inspired by a consciousness
of his own superior powers, with which he is well aware that none of
the inferior animals can successfully compete. Placed in the midst of
arid deserts, where the fleet but timid antelope, and the cunning but
powerless monkey fall his easy and unresisting prey; or roaming through
the dense forests and scarcely penetrable jungles, where the elephant and
the buffalo find in their unwieldy bulk and massive strength no adequate
protection against the impetuous agility and fierce determination of
his attacks, he sways an almost undisputed sceptre, and stalks boldly
forth in fearless majesty. But change the scene, and view him in the
neighbourhood of populous towns, or even near the habitations of
uncultivated savages, and it will then be seen that he recognises his
master, and crouches to the power of a superior being. Here he no longer
shows himself openly in the proud consciousness of his native dignity,
but skulks in the deepest recesses of the forest, cautiously watches his
opportunities, and lies in treacherous ambush for the approach of his
unwary prey. It is this innate feeling of his incapacity openly to resist
the power of man, that renders him so docile in captivity, and gives him
that air of mild tranquillity, which, together with the dignified majesty
of his deportment, has unquestionably contributed not a little towards
the general impression of his amiable qualities.
His forbearance and generosity, if the facts be carefully investigated,
will be found to resolve themselves into no more than this: that in
his wild state he destroys only to satiate his hunger or revenge, and
never, like the “gaunt wolves,” and “sullen tigers,” of whom the poet
has composed his train, in the wantonness of his power and the malignity
of his disposition; and that, when tamed, his hunger being satisfied and
his feelings being free from irritation, he suffers smaller animals to
remain in his den uninjured, is familiar with, and sometimes fond of, the
keeper by whom he is attended and fed, and will even, when under complete
control, submit to the caresses of strangers.
But even this limited degree of amiability, which, in an animal of less
formidable powers, would be considered as indicating no peculiar mildness
of temper, is modified by the calls of hunger, by the feelings of
revenge, which he frequently cherishes for a considerable length of time,
and by various other circumstances which render it dangerous to approach
him unguardedly, even in his tamest and most domesticated state, without
previously ascertaining his immediate state of mind. On such occasions no
keeper possessed of common prudence would be rash enough to venture upon
confronting him: he knows too well that it is no boy’s play to
… seek the Lion in his den,
And fright him there, and make him tremble there;
for in this state of irritation, from whatever cause it may have arisen,
he gives free scope to his natural ferocity, unrestrained by that control
to which at other times he submits with meek and unresisting patience.
Happily for mankind the range of this tremendous animal is limited to
the warmer climates of the earth; and even in these the extent of that
range is constantly becoming more and more confined by the spread of
human civilization, which, at the same time that it drives him to take
refuge at a distance from the haunts of men, contributes greatly to thin
his numbers and to diminish his power of annoyance. His true country
is Africa, in the vast and untrodden wilds of which, from the immense
deserts of the north to the trackless forests of the south, he reigns
supreme and uncontrolled. In the sandy deserts of Arabia, in some of
the wilder districts of Persia, and in the vast jungles of Hindostan,
he still maintains a precarious footing: but from the classic soil of
Greece, as well as from the whole of Asia Minor, both of which were once
exposed to his ravages, he has been utterly dislodged and extirpated.
There is some variation in the different races of Lions from these
distant localities; but this is by no means of sufficient importance
to establish a distinction between them. The Asiatic Lion, of which we
are now treating, seldom attains a size equal to that of the full-grown
Southern African; its colour is a more uniform and paler yellow
throughout; and its mane is, in general, fuller and more complete, being
furnished moreover with a peculiar appendage in the long hairs, which,
commencing beneath the neck, occupy the whole of the middle line of the
body below. All these distinctions are, however, modified by age, and
vary in different individuals. Their habits are in essential particulars
the same: we shall therefore defer what we have farther to say on this
head until we come to speak of the Cape Lion, and proceed to the history
of the Asiatic individual now exhibiting in this Menagerie, a striking
likeness of which is given in the engraving at the head of the present
article.
This fine animal, although called by the keepers “the Old Lion,” is,
in reality, little more than five years old; and that designation was
adopted only for the purpose of distinguishing him from the Cape Lion,
a comparatively modern resident of the Menagerie. His proper name, or
rather that by which he has been known ever since his arrival at the
Tower, is George. The following anecdotes relative to the mode of his
capture, and to his habits and demeanour in his captivity, are given on
the authority of Mr. Cops, who derived his information on the first point
from General Watson himself, and speaks to the rest from his personal
observation.
It was in the commencement of the year 1823, when the General was on
service in Bengal, that being out one morning on horseback, armed with a
double-barrelled rifle, he was suddenly surprised by a large male Lion,
which bounded out upon him from the thick jungle at the distance of only
a few yards. He instantly fired, and, the shot taking complete effect,
the animal fell dead almost at his feet. No sooner was this formidable
foe thus disposed of than a second, equally terrible, made her appearance
in the person of the Lioness, whom the General also shot at and wounded
so dangerously that she retreated into the thicket. As her following
so immediately in the footsteps of her mate afforded strong grounds
for suspecting that their den could not be far distant, he determined
upon pursuing the adventure to the end, and traced her to her retreat,
where he completed the work of her destruction, by again discharging
the contents of one of the barrels of his rifle, which he had reloaded
for the purpose. In the den were found a beautiful pair of cubs, male
and female, supposed to be then not more than three days old. These the
General brought away with him, and succeeded by the assistance of a
goat, who was prevailed upon to act in the capacity of foster-mother to
the royal pair, in rearing them until they attained sufficient age and
strength to enable them to bear the voyage to England. On their arrival
in this country, in September, 1823, he presented them to his Majesty,
who commanded them to be placed in the Tower. The male of this pair is
the subject of the present, the female that of the succeeding article.
The extreme youth of these Lions at the time of their capture, and the
constant control to which they had been accustomed from that early period
of their existence, rendered them peculiarly tame and docile, insomuch
that, for twelve months after their arrival, they were frequently
suffered to walk in the open yard among the visitors, who caressed them
and played with them with impunity. The Duke of Sussex, in particular,
was highly delighted with the unusual spectacle of a Lion and a Lioness
bounding about him at perfect liberty, and with all their natural grace
and agility. It must, however, be observed that they were not then fully
grown, and that it was afterwards thought necessary to place them under
greater restraint; but more with the view of guarding against possible
mischief, than in consequence of any positive symptoms of rebellion. Of
the change which has taken place in the character of the female, we shall
have occasion to speak hereafter: the male still continues perfectly
docile, and suffers himself to be treated with the greatest familiarity
by his keepers and those to whom he is accustomed.
Like all the other carnivorous animals in the Menagerie, he is fed but
once in the twenty-four hours; and his meal usually consists of a piece
of beef, of eight or nine pounds weight, exclusive of bone. This he
seizes with avidity, tears it to pieces instantly with his claws, and
ravenously devours it; contrary to the usual custom of his fellow lions
in a state of nature, who are said generally to remain for a considerable
time after they have struck the fatal blow, before proceeding to glut
their appetite with the flesh and blood of their victim. This awful pause
of suspense may, however, under such circumstances, be attributable to
an instinctive desire completely to finish their work, or at least to
preclude the possibility of resistance, prior to removing from the body
of their prostrate prey the weapon with which his destruction has been
inflicted.
It has been generally remarked, that lions in captivity have certain
constant and stated times for roaring: this observation is not, however,
strictly true with regard to those now in the Tower. It may nevertheless
be observed that in the summer time, especially when the atmospheric
temperature is considerable, they uniformly commence roaring about dawn,
one of them taking the lead, and the others joining in the concert in
succession; and Mr. Cops has frequently had occasion to remark that
whenever any one of them fails in accompanying the rest in their by no
means harmonious performance, the cessation from the customary roar is
an infallible symptom of actual or approaching illness. At no other time
is there that regularity in their roaring which has been so frequently
stated; although the chorus which has just been described is sometimes
repeated after feeding, and also when they have been left alone for any
length of time; hence it occurs particularly on Sundays, a day on which
they have no company except from the occasional visits of the keepers.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE LIONESS AND HER CUBS.
Strikingly distinguished at the first glance from her royal mate by
the absence of the flowing honours of the mane, which invest him with
an air of superior dignity and gravity, the Lioness is also remarkable
for her smaller size, her more slender and delicate make, and the
superior grace and agility of her movements. Her inferiority in muscular
strength to the Lion, and to him alone, is, however, fully compensated
by the greater liveliness of her disposition, the unrestrained ardour
of her passions, and the vigorous impetuosity of her motions, which all
contribute to render her an equally formidable opponent with her more
powerful, but less irritable, lord. They differ also in another obvious
characteristic, the habitual position and direction of their heads, that
of the Lion being almost uniformly elevated and thrown upwards with an
air of mingled frankness and hauteur, agreeing well with the popular
notions of his tranquil dignity of temper and deportment; while the
Lioness as constantly carries her head on a level with the line of her
back, thus giving to her otherwise expressive countenance a sullen and
downcast look, and evincing a nearer approach to the inferior races of
the feline tribe. This singular distinction appears to be in a great
measure dependent on the absence of the mane; for it is observed that the
young male cubs, until the period at which this badge of dignity begins
to make its appearance, that is to say until they are about twelve months
old, carry their heads in the same level position with the female.
It cannot be doubted that the lighter and slenderer shape of the Lioness,
and her consequently greater activity, tend in an especial manner to
the formation of that more lively and sensitive character by which all
her actions are so strongly marked: but there is another cause, no less
powerful than these, which operates with peculiar force, in the vivid
excitability of her maternal feelings, which she cherishes with an ardour
almost unparalleled in the history of any other animal. From the moment
that she becomes a mother, the native ferocity of her disposition is
renovated as it were with tenfold vigour; she watches over her young with
that undefined dread of danger to their weak and defenceless state, and
that suspicious eagerness of alarm, which keep her in a constant state of
feverish excitation: and woe be to the wretched intruder, whether man or
beast, who should unwarily at such a time approach the precincts of her
sanctuary. Even in a state of captivity, and however completely she may
have been previously subjected to the control of her keeper, she loses
all respect for his commands, and abandons herself occasionally to the
most violent paroxysms of rage.
Of this the individual Lioness now in the Tower affords a striking
example. We have already observed in our account of the Lion that, for
a considerable time after her arrival in England, she was so tame as to
be allowed frequently to roam at large about the open yard; and even
long after it had been judged expedient that this degree of liberty
should no longer be granted, her disposition was far from exciting any
particular fear in the minds of her keepers. As an instance of this, we
may mention that when, on one occasion about a year and a half ago, she
had been suffered through inadvertence to leave her den, and when she
was by no means in good temper, George Willoughway, the under keeper,
had the boldness, alone and armed only with a stick, to venture upon the
task of driving her back into her place of confinement; which he finally
accomplished, not however without strong symptoms of resistance on her
part, as she actually made three springs upon him, all of which he was
fortunate enough to avoid.
But from the period when she gave birth to her Cubs a total alteration
has taken place in her temper and demeanour. She no longer suffers the
least familiarity even on the part of her keepers, but gives full scope
to the violence of her passions. Intent solely on providing for the
security of her young, she imagines that the object of every person
who approaches her den is to rob her of her treasures, over which she
watches with almost sleepless anxiety, exhibiting the truly beautiful but
appalling picture of maternal tenderness combined with savage ferocity,
each in their utmost intensity of force and colouring.
The Cubs, which are three in number, two male and one female, were
whelped on the 20th of October, 1827, the day of the battle of Navarino;
and it is remarked by Mr. Cops, as a curious coincidence, that they are
the only Lions which have been whelped in the Tower since the year 1794,
rendered memorable by the great naval victory gained by Lord Howe over
the French fleet. They are universally considered to be the finest ever
bred in England, and are now in a most thriving condition. They have not,
however, yet reached the period when the shedding of the milk-teeth takes
place, a process which is perhaps more perilous to the brute creation
than that of dentition to the offspring of the human race, and appears
indeed to be attended with greater risks in proportion to the carnivorous
propensities of the respective species. To the Lion it has always proved,
at least in his state of captivity, a period of the greatest danger, very
few individuals of the numerous whelps which have been produced either
here or on the continent surviving its effects. Still there is good
reason to hope, from the peculiarly healthy appearance of the present
litter, that, by means of skilful management, the danger may be averted,
and that a pair at least of these noble animals, “born and bred in
England,” may in a few years rival their parents in size, in beauty, and
in majesty.
The mother and her whelps are admirably represented in the spirited
group of portraits which heads the present article. The latter have all
the playfulness of kittens, and are fondled by their dam in a similar
manner to that in which the domestic cat caresses her young. While they
were small enough she carried them from place to place in her mouth, and
showed the greatest solicitude to keep them from the view of strangers;
and even now that they are grown too large for this mode of treatment,
she continues to pay the strictest attention to the cleanliness of their
persons, and licks their fur, as they tumble about her, with all the
matronly dignity and gravity of an accomplished nurse.
The Cubs have hitherto exhibited very faint traces of the striped livery
which is generally characteristic of the Lion’s whelp; but it is highly
probable that when they lose their winter coat, this marking may become
more obvious, although, on account of their advancing age, it will never
show itself with that distinctness which has been observed in other
instances. It consists of a blackish band, extending along the centre
of the back, from the head almost to the extremity of the tail, and
branching off into numerous other bands of the same colour, which are
parallel to each other, and pass across the upper parts of the sides and
tail. The very young lion consequently bears no small resemblance to the
tiger; a circumstance which it is interesting to remark as one which
furnishes additional evidence of the close affinity of these formidable
animals. The colouring of its bands is, however, much less intense; and
in addition to these it possesses on the head and on the limbs numerous
irregular spots of a darker hue than the rest of the fur, which are never
found in the neighbouring species. On the limbs of the present Cubs these
spots and blotches are distinctly visible amidst the rough and half
shaggy coat which covers them, and which is not exchanged for the smooth
and sleek fur, with which they are subsequently invested, until they
approach their full growth. As they advance towards the adult age, which
takes place in the fifth or sixth year, the livery gradually disappears,
and is then usually entirely lost. The Lioness herself, however, still
retains some trifling vestiges of it. The Cubs are, as usual, destitute
of the longer hairs which form the tuft at the extremity of the tail of
the adult, which in them tapers to a black tip. Their voice is at present
perfectly similar to the mewing of a cat; and it is not until they reach
the age of eighteen months that it changes into that peculiar roar which
afterwards becomes so tremendous. At that age the mane has already
attained considerable developement. This appendage begins to make its
appearance in the males when they are ten or twelve months old, having at
first the shape of a slight frill or ruff, but gradually becoming more
and more extensive, and at length assuming that striking form which gives
to the full grown animal a graceful and dignified, and to the more aged a
reverend and majestic, air.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE CAPE LION.
_FELIS LEO._--Var. CAPENSIS.
Africa, as we have already observed, is truly the native country of
the Lion; and in no part of that vast continent, we may add, does he
attain greater size, or exhibit all his characteristic features in
fuller and more complete developement, than in the immediate vicinity
of the settlements which have been formed in the interior of its
southern extremity by the Dutch and English colonists of the Cape. In
speaking of the Bengal Lion, we have also pointed out the more striking
characteristics by which the Asiatic race is distinguished from that of
Southern Africa; consisting principally in the larger size, the more
regular and graceful form, the generally darker colour, and the less
extensive mane of the African. It remains, however, to be mentioned
that, even in this latter race, there are two varieties, which have
been long known to the settlers under the names of the Pale and the
Black Lion, distinguished, as their appellations imply, by the lighter
or darker colour of their coats, and more particularly of their manes.
This variation, there can be little doubt, is entirely produced by the
different character of the districts which they inhabit, and of the food
which they are enabled to procure. The black Lion, as he is termed, is
the larger and the more ferocious of the two, more frequently attacking
man himself, if less noble prey should fail him; and sometimes measuring
the enormous distance of eight feet from the tip of the nose to the
origin of the tail, which is generally about half the length of the body.
He is, however, of less frequent occurrence than the pale variety.
It is in the night-time more particularly that the Lion prowls abroad in
search of his prey, the conformation of his eyes not only, like those of
the cat, allowing him to see with a very moderate degree of light, but
even rendering the full glare of day distressing and intolerable to him.
It is for this reason that travellers, who are compelled to sleep in the
open air in countries infested by these animals, are careful to keep
up a blazing fire, which the tenderness of their eyes deters them from
approaching, unless when they are extremely hard pressed by the calls
of hunger. These, it would appear, sometimes become paramount to every
other consideration, and urge the Lion, as they do many more ignoble
beasts, into the exhibition of a degree of courage, which, in despite
of all that has been said on the subject, is by no means his natural
characteristic.
“At the time,” says Mr. Burchell, in his admirable Travels in Southern
Africa, “when men first adopted the Lion as the emblem of courage, it
would seem that they regarded great size and strength as indicating
it; but they were greatly mistaken in the character they had given of
this indolent skulking animal.” That an animal which seldom attacks
by open force, but, stealing along with cautious and noiseless tread,
silently approaches his victim, conceals himself in treacherous ambush,
and at length, when he imagines his prey to be fairly within his reach,
bounds forth upon him with an overwhelming leap, crushes him beneath the
tremendous weight of his irresistible paw, tears him piece-meal with
his talons, and, after having surfeited on his horrid meal, returns
into the depths of his solitary concealment to sleep away the hours
until his satiated appetite shall be again renewed, and his craving
maw stimulate him to fresh exertion,--that such an animal should ever
have been regarded as the type of courage and the emblem of magnanimity
would indeed be most astonishing, were it not that men have in all ages
been too prone to flatter superior power, and to offer at the shrine of
greatness that homage which is due only to the good.
True it is that on some occasions the Lion has been known, in the
capriciousness of his disposition, to suffer his prostrate prey to
escape but little injured from his clutch; but these instances are
of rare occurrence, and may safely be referred either to his natural
indolence, when excited neither by hunger nor by provocation, or to that
intellectual debasement which among brutes is the usual concomitant
of increased bulk and formidable strength. But to conclude from such
whims and freaks, unaccountable as they may sometimes appear, that he is
actuated by feelings of mercy, or by the natural impulse of a generous
mind, would be about as reasonable as it would be to assume from the
instances which are recorded of the justice and generosity of a Tamerlane
or a Tippoo, that those monsters of sanguinary cruelty were in reality
the mildest and most merciful of despots.