Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

front; a fine forehead; broad nostrils; lively and piercing eyes; and a flowing mane, which nearly conceals his round ears, and extends over the shoulders, adding great dignity to his noble appearance. His body is a perfect model of strength joined with activity, When enraged, his forehead is furrowed with deep wrinkles; he erects this mane from an excess of the electric fluid. His eye-balls roll, and from the same cause flash fire. All the muscles of the lower jaw quiver. His long bushy tail terribly strikes backwards and forwards against his sides. He prepares his fore foot to strike, the claws being extended to the extent of one's little finger, and with a growl, which discovers his huge teeth, and tongue covered with large reversed points, he attacks his adversaries, however numerous, There is no retreat, and the strongest spears held forth by intrepid huntsmen are shivered into atoms, whilst those not destined to receive the shock of his furious assault, coming upon his flanks, stab him with their weapons. All animals but man refuse to confront his power. Even when vanquished by the address of his adversaries, and wounded, he will not turn himself to flight, but retreats by falling back, still contending with assailing enemies.

Lions were formerly more abunde ant than now. Pliny relates, that Quintus Scaevola was the first who exhibited several of these animals at the same time in the circus, when he was edile; that Scilla, during his prætorship, made an hundred fight together, being all of them males; and Pompey, after that, six hundred, of which one hundred and fifteen were males; and Cæsar four hundred. Seneca informs us that those employed by Scilla were presents sent from Bocchus, king of Mauritania; but at this time the VOL. XXXVIII.

princes of the same country think they make a mighty present by sending to European potentates one or two lions. The same abundance continued for some time during the emperors; but it appears that this diminished during the second century, since Europe already regarded it as a great magnificence on the part of Marcus Aurelius to have shewn an hundred lions at a time, when he triumphed over the Marcomani. To augment the number, a law was made to prevent the hunt of the lion. The great number of lions probably occasioned many of them to be tamed, and pushed their education to a pitch which might astonish us, although we have several very striking examples in our times. Hanno, the Carthaginian, was the first who tamed the lion, and his fellow citizens condemned him to death, saying, 'that the commonwealth had every thing to dread from one who knew how to subdue such ferocity.' Antony, the triumvir, having seated by his side the actress Cytheria, was drawn in his car by lions: Prodigious ex, cess,' says Pliny, more horrible than all the horrors of these melancholy times.'

Let us now descend to the lion of the French menagerie. He was born at Senegal, and, being taken very young, was brought up in the country with a little spaniel of the same age. After some time, these two animals were given to the director of the East India company, who sent them to France, and made a present of them to the government: they were landed at l'Orient, and arrived at Versailles on the twentyeighth of September, 1788; they were then seven or eight months old, and they were shut up in the same den. Their childhood had not been passed in captivity; free in the house of their master, fed with the produce of his table, and equally dividing his ca 3 H

resses, they were bound together with a mutual affection. This friendship between animals of a different species and opposite dispositions is not uncommon, but it is never formed except among those who live with man, and always begins by the common sentiment of his benefits.

At his arrival in France, the lion was gentle and as fawning as his companion; no one feared to approach him, and he returned all the caresses which he received: but soured, probably by his captivity, his original ferocity was not slow in appearing, and entirely unfolding itself with his age; faithful, however, to his keeper, he did not cease to shew his gratitude to him. It was feared that he would have perished in the process of cutting his teeth; he is the only lion brought young to the menagerie who has survived this pericd, which is always full of danger to these animals. He soon experienced another peril; one of his claws grew into the flesh, and would have killed him, had not an operation been performed; the claw was cut, the matter was let out by the keeper, and the animal recovered; he bore this operation very willingly. His removal to the Botanical Garden, which took place about two years since, was not attended with any difficulty; he was put into a great cage, used for removing beasts from one den to another; and his dog, being fastened to one of the bars, followed him in the same carriage: the same prison received them at their arrival.

There this noble animal was exhibited in the plenitude of his strength and vigour; he had reached his full growth, and his long captivity had not been able to impair his native dignity. His figure was awful and majestic; his proud, fiery glance, seemed to awe all who approached him. His size was a medium be

tween the large and middling species
He was six feet and a
of lions.
half long, and three feet two inches
high. A thick mane covered his
head, and the front parts of his body,
which was all nerve and muscle,
The hue of his skin, a bright fawn
colour on a dark ground, gave ad-
ditional fire to his motions, and to
the expression of his features; but
through this fierceness appeared an
air of gentleness cultivated by the
sense of benefits, and the enjoyments
of friendship. His food was horse-
flesh. His allowance was about fif-
teen pounds a day. He took it in
his claws, tore it with his teeth, and
swallowed it without chewing. The
dog, his companion, eat bread, and
gnawed the bones that the lion left
him. Twice in the day, commonly
morning and evening, he raised his
thundering voice, as if he wished to
give his lungs this salutary exercise.
If the sky was overcast with thick
clouds, he roared several times, as if
presaging a storm: during the storm
Misfortune had
he was silent.
strengthened the tie formed in child-
hood; deprived of the pleasures of
love, he felt those of friendship the
more strongly. He lavished on his
deg the most tender caresses; the
dog received and returned them with-
out fear and without distrust: his
natural gaiety, his frank and open
air, tempered the grave and serious
disposition of the lion. He often
threw himself upon his mane, and
playfully bit his ears, The lion bent
down his head, as taking part in his
sport. Often he himself invited him
to play, by putting him on his back,
and pressing him between his paws.
Neither the crowd that surrounded
him, nor the new objects continu
ally passing before his eyes; nothing,
in short, could take him from the
society of his dog. When he was
inclined to repose, it was by his side
that he slept; and, at his waking,

he it was whom he wished first to bottom of his den, looked at the hole

See again.

Their meals when given by their keeper only suspended this intimacy for a moment. They then sepa rated to receive their several portions, and neither dared then to invade the property of the other. This interesting peace was, however, sometimes troubled by those who came to enjoy, and who ought to have respected it. Pieces of bread, thrown through the bars of the den, became almost always a subject of discord. The dog, regarding all that came from the hand of visitors as property belonging to him alone, seized it with extreme eagerness, If the lion made a motion towards it, he threw himself upon him, and bit his ear with such fury, that he often drew blood. The lion contented himself with putting aside his unreasonable friend with his paw. But these storms were only transient. The lion never abandoned himself to anger, and the dog soon recovered from his passion. But there was in their mutual attachment a remarkable shade of difference, which explains the caprices and humours of the one, and the unalterable kindness of the other. Independent on the earth, proud, and wild by nature, the lion, become solitary and a captive, had associated to himself a friend. He loved his friend for his own sake, and was attached to him chiefly. The dog, equally affectionate, loved him also; but before he had given himself to the lion, nature had given him to man. Faithful to his instinct, he ran with eagerness to meet him, who, opening the door of his prison, restored him for a moment to liberty. He loaded him with caresses; gaiety sparkled in his eyes, whilst his poor friend, uneasy at his absence, roared in a plaintive tone, walked backwards and for wards along his bars, went to the

where he had got out, walked away, and returned again. When he came back, the dog saw his companion with pleasure; but his last look seemed to say to the keeper, I love you most.' Some time after the removal of the lion and his dog to the Menagerie of the Museum, the tender bond which united these animals was broken. The dog contracted the mange: this was per ceived too late to be remedied; he died. The lion, deprived of his friend, called him incessantly in dismal roarings; he soon fell into a deep melancholy; every thing disgusted him; his strength and his voice grew weaker by degrees. Apprehensive of his sinking, they endeavoured to divert his grief by presenting him with another dog. One was sought for, resembling his friend in shape and colour. When such an one had been found, it was brought before the grating of the den. The lion fixed him with a sparkling eye; he uttered a tremendous roar, and, with his paws extended, and his claws unfolded, seemed ready to dart forwards. It was supposed, from this sudden and violent passion, that the instinct of the beast had been de ceived, and that, in his fury, he only wished to throw himself on the person who detained his beloved dog; hence he was abandoned to him without hesitation. The dog, thrown into the den, shuddered with dread; he would have escaped, but the lion seized him with his paw, and killed him in an instant*.

A similar regard had been ob served in old Nero in the Tower. When Hector, a young lion, now to be seen in Exeter 'Change, was

Vide a Visit to the Menagerie by Mons. Jaufret, vol. 1. elegantly translated by Miss Aikin, with an interesting frontispiece, the Lion caressing his favourite Spaniel.

deprived from illness of his keeper, he became sulky, took food sparingly, and evidently pined; but when his former keeper was restored, he looked cheerful, fawned about him, and accepted his food as formerly.

The lions in the Tower of London have many of them lived from seventy to eighty years* ; probably in the wilds of Africa, in their native state, they may attain to an hundred years.

SOLITARY WALKS

IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.

BY JOHN WEBB.

WALK III.

• A raven from some greedy vauk,
Amid the cloister'd gloom,
Bids me, and 'tis a solemn thought!
Reflect upon the tomb.
The tomb! the consecrated dome,
The temple raised to peace!
The port that to its friendly home
Compels the human race!'

CUNNINGHAM.

THE sun was sinking below the horizon, and the tower of the adjacent church was catching the last smiles of day, when I began my third ramble among the tombs. I was serious-such a frame of mind is indispensable in one who walks forth to meditate among the nations of the dead.—As I had a few minutes before quitted the active scenes of life, I was led to make these reflections. What are all the riches, honours, and enjoyments of this world to one of those lifeless skeletons who tenant the gloomy asylum be neath? Could I summon from the vasty deep' the spirit of a war

6

Dr. Shaw.

rior, with what sovereign contempt would he view the green laurel of victory, or the proud trophy of fame! Could I offer the brilliant reward, he would spurn it from him with indignant arm, and exclaim, What are such splendid trifles as these to an immortal mind?'

Could I call from the invisible regions the mind that once informed the body of the ambitious statesman, and tender him an imperial crown, with an averted eye, which would dart one of the keenest glances of scorn, he would cry out, Take from my sight that fascinating bauble! let it cause the head of some earthly tyrant to ach: such gewgaws are infinitely beneath the notice of immaterial beings.-Could a soul that once animated the carcase of a miser appear to me, and it were in my power to command fortune to present him with the riches of Peruvian mines, and all the treasures that are hid in the mountains of Golconda; with looks not to be delineated by the pencil of the painter, or described by the fancy of the poet, he would say-Let me not behold that white and yellow earth. Gold and silver pass not current in the country where I dwell. The deity of gold, which I worshipped below, can gain no admis. sion to realms where matter never enters.

After indulging the reflecting mood a while, my attention was diverted by the spot where my ancestors repose, not in dull cold marble,' but in the gelid bosom of mother earth. Though they filled no con spicuous situation in the world, never glittered in the gay circles of the great, nor acquired the wreath of glory in the ensanguined field; though no eloquence of theirs e'er charmed the listening senate, nor did their hands e'er guide the helm of state; yet they were useful mem

[blocks in formation]

They had their foibles, and where is the race of men who have not?Too partial to company, and too fond of a cheerful glass, they cer tainly were, and ofttimes exhilarated their minds and brightened their ideas, by pouring forth libations to

Bacchus, purple god of joyous wit,
With brow solute, and ever-laughing eye."
YOUNG.

But here let me pause!—
Rest in peace, ye sacred relics of
my progenitors! may no unhallowed
pen of mine record your frailties,
but cover your faults with a mantle
of charity,

And leave to Mercy and to God your
DODDRIDGE.

doom!'

Beneath a turf of grass, that waved to the breeze of evening, lay poor idiotic Samuel, whose vacuity of rea

son

Did pleasure to the gay dispense,
But

pity to the wise."

Poor youth, how circumscribed were thy joys! how complicated were thy sorrows! The sweets of friendship, the delights of social in tercourse, the felicities of the soft attachment, and bliss of conjugal affection, were unknown to thee! No tender friend poured the balm of consolation into thy wounded mind: no sprightly circle im. proved thy intellectual faculties, by the attractive charms of conversation: the fascinating smiles of a beloved object never gave thy heart 'a pulse unknown before;' nor did the fond endearments of the wife that Providence had given thee, nor the sight of a troop of blooming

sportlings, ever cause thy breast to
palpitate with delight. Cut off by
Heaven from the pleasures of life,
like a solitary pilgrim, thou didst
sojourn through a vale of tears, the
ridicule of foolish men, the sport of
friend of the wretch who knows no
mischievous boys, till death, the
friend, summoned thee
and a better world.'

to another

Let the bigot, if he please, condemn me for excess of charity, in consigning this hapless idiot to mansions of rest, and represent our al mighty Master as one who expects to 'reap where he sowed not,' These are not my religious tenets.

Poor youth! thy talent was not misimproved-thou possest none. In thy solemn audit, thou wilt never have to account for conscience stifled, faith profaned, privileges abused, opportunities neglected, and period, the Voltaires, the Boling abilities prostituted. In that awful brokes, and the Humes of the last century, will have abundant reason to envy thee,

• When pointed lightnings from the wrathful
Judge

Shall singe their laurels, and the men
Who thought they few so high, shall fall sø
low.'
STANDEN.

I had no sooner departed from one grave, than another, the restingbed of an old soldier, pressed upon my attention, whose exploits, had he moved in an higher sphere, would doubtless have given an additional lustre to the annals of British valour. But I may justly observe with Southey,

Of unrecorded name Dy'd the mean man;' and but for this humble memorial the remembrance of his services at Dettingen, Fontenoy, and Culloden, would in a few years have been lostin oblivion: for no storied urn

« AnteriorContinuar »