first on the right side and caught and held him on the left, just as we see a kitten playing with a ball of worsted. It is also probable that the lion bit his victim at least once in the neck, for a portion of one of the vertebras of the neck was found slightly chipped, as if by the tip of the beast’s tooth, causing mischief to the actual

spinal cord within the bone.

Besides these wounds on the neck, several cuts of an extensive kind were discovered on the head among the hair; these also resembled magnified scratches more than clean-cut wounds, or teeth-marks, These wounds were indicative of more serious damage to the structure of the brain below, and accordingly we found much blood effused on the surface of the brain—the result of a blow, that blow being the “ pat” of the lion’s paw.

Now “pat” indicates rather a delicate strike than a sledge-hammer knock; but be it remembered that the three most powerful things in the animal kingdom are said to be

Firstly, the stroke of a whale’s tail

Secondly, the kick of a giraffe

And thirdly, the “ pat ” of a lion’s paw. As the forearm of the lion which died at the Zoological Gardens was more than 1 9 inches in circumference, conceive the striking power enclosed within this space, and that, too, worked by the largely-developed muscles about the

shoulder.

A pat with this formidable weapon is positively a fearful blow; the Nasmyth’s steam-hammer, working with elegant ease, will strike a blow which the spectator would hardly expect without seeing its effects. The lion’s paw is the Nasmyth’s hammer in nature: woe to the human frame submitted to its force. It is therefore pretty apparent that if we look for the most positive cause of death in this man’s case (for really there were many causes present on the body), we may fairly say that it was the blow of the paw that stunned and killed him on the spot, the lion first having seized him by the neck, as above described.

All this corresponds with the evidence given: the subdued exclamation of u Oh, oh!” was heard, so mournfully yet truthfully telling of his hopeless and hapless state. Again, we could not help remarking the absence of all other sound either of moan or struggle: and this showed the rapid succession, if not simultaneousness, of the man’s exclamation, the blow of the lion’s paw, and death itself.

After having struck the man down, the beast must have attempted to pick him up to carry him, for the thigh was covered with wounds (as though it had received a charge of small bullets). These were probably caused by the teeth of the animal, who, finding that lie could not obtain a firm hold near the knee, had fastened his teeth into the groin from the inside; the

230 man’s power over animals. deep wounds—one above the os pubis, the other below-indicate this. As remarked by Mr. Miskin, the wounds in all places were much more serious than at first sight they appeared to be, the parts being much bruised.*

It is well known that the cat tribe are most difficult to tame, in the ordinary acceptation of the word; they may become docile, but they can never be entirely depended upon. The dominion which a man has over a lion is moral, not physical; the moment the lion finds this out he will take advantage of it. The lions well knew that Mr. Crockett, “the lion-tamer,” was their it wasmaster—they obeyed and respected him; and most worthy of note how rapidly he drove these animals from the theatre back again into their cage after their midnight wandering in the boxes and stalls, showing what command he had obtained over them. The unfortunate man who was killed probably ran from the lions: if he had stood still, and boldly faced them, he would have had a better chance for his life.

There is, I believe, no record existing where the effects pro duced upon the human frame by the attack of a lion have beeti carefully recorded by members of the medical profession. I avoir medical technicalities as much as possible. I therefore venture to give them as above.

KOPISKI, THE LION TAMER.

I cannot help thinking that there is a faculty in the human mind of which no notice has ever been taken by psychologists. I mean the peculiar sympathy that exists between men and animals whether wild or domesticated.

It is not everybody who possesses this faculty. In some it is totally deficient, in others it is largely developed. Thus, for example, are there not those who shudder when a toad crosses the path, who are afraid of going into the kitchen after dark because of the black-beetles, who scream when they meet a poor rat on the stairs, who pass sleepless nights if they think a spider is on the march about the room? Some even have a natural antipathy to dogs. A friend tells me of a case where a gentleman most cordially hated dogs: the dogs in return hated him. The mutual antagonism ended by one of the squire’s own dogs being killed by the keeper when fast hold of his master’s leg.

There are, on the contrary, those who will walk up straight to the most vicious horse, and even though the

individual lady or gentleman be a perfect stranger, the animal seems at once to lose its ferocity, and to u cave in,” as the Yankees say, in a moment. Again, many have a wonderful power over dogs, and are able to manage dogs which are unapproachable by ordinary

call it aindividuals. That this sympathy—may we not species of freemasonry?—is present in the animal as well as in the human mind is certain.

Mr. Baines, the well-known African traveller, informs me that when shooting in Africa he has been puzzled to know whether an object before him were the bare, leafless arm of a tree, or the head and neck of a giraffe. The giraffe seems to know that if he keeps perfectly quiet he will be mistaken for a tree; if he moves, his presence will become apparent to his enemy —man. The moment the sportsman’s eye meets that of the animal, according to Mr. Baines’s experience, the creature seems to know that he is discovered, and immediately takes other means of saving his life.

Now, this freemasonry between man and animals has been practically brought to bear in the case of Lion-taming. As there are individuals who have naturally command over domesticated animals, so there are those who have this mysterious power over wild beasts. I always, therefore, look upon Lion-tamers as remarkable men. The lion is simply a big cat, with the bodily

structure of the cat, and the mind, so to say, of a cat. Like a naturally ill-tempered man, these large cats are

|s one moment all purring and civility, the next instant

they will be the very embodiment of ferocity and blind I passion. The individual therefore, who, with this knowledge, will deliberately walk into a cage in which there are no less than five lions, ought indeed to be credited with much courage; it cannot be called foolhardiness, because he knows his own powers.

In August 1866, I was requested by M. Kopiski to witness at the Pavilion theatre his performances in Lion-taming, and I must say I was exceedingly pleased. Kopiski is a strong man of the Blondin build, with a sharp, commanding eye, and a quiet, gentleman-like countenance, upon which fear has never made her marks. He comes forward with nothing in his hand but a riding-whip, drives the lions to the far end of the cage, opens a little door, and is inside the cage in that

space of time described in certain county lingo as the “ shake of a sheep’s tail the lions are instantly all alive at the presence of their master, and run about the cage like a pack of hounds just let out into the grass-yard. Whether they hate or fear Kopiski most I cannot say; anyhow, their snarling shows that they know he is among them. Standing by the side of the cage, lie makes the lions jump (like greyhounds over hurdles) in a consecutive line, one alter the other. He then

;

stops the lioness in her course, and placing himself in a recumbent position upon her body, as though he were lying upon a sofa, he causes the big lion to rear up on his hind legs and stand right over him. This group is, to my mind, exceedingly classical and beautiful. Kopiski then shows in other ways how perfectly he has command over his den of lions, any one of whom could kill him in a moment with a pat of its sledge-hammer paw if it dared, but the beast knows not its own strength it is cognisant only of the wonderful “ dominion ” which man has over it and its tribe.

I much admired the manner in which he managed his five beasts without the least assumption of bounce

or swagger.

SIR EDWIN LANDSEER’S LIONS.

Everyone by this time (February 1867) has seen the four lions now placed on permanent duty at the foot of Lord Nelson’s column at Charing Cross, and everyone I suppose has formed his own opinion about them. From our infancy upwards no object has been more frequently submitted to our view than a lion. From the days when we learned in the alphabet-book that “ L was a lion ” the figures of lions of all shapes and sizes are daily brought to our notice. Most of these Jions are

simply caricatures, as unlike the real animal as the

heraldic lion, fighting with the unicorn, is unlike the monarch of the desert. The reason is very evident. This wonderful creature is so beautifully constructed by nature that the eye is deceived, and imagines that it is an easy task to represent it either by drawing or by sculpture. To those who think it is an easy matter to represent a lion, I would simply say, “ Just try to do it. You will soon find out your mistake.” It is on this account, according to my idea, that many of our friends should be very careful in giving any opinion at all as to

236 sir EDwiN Landseer’s lions,

whether Sir Edwin’s lions are good or not. I candidly confess that I did not trust myself to criticise without care and painstaking; but nevertheless having in “Land and Water” promised so to do I made the attempt. In company with Mr. Bartlett, the Resident Superintendent of the Zoological Gardens, who I suppose has bought and handled more lions, alive and dead, and knows more about them than any man in London, I carefully examined the details of every one of Sir Edwin’s lions. We separately took notes and mental photographs of them, and, this done, we took a Hansom’s cab, and went as fast as we could straight to the Zoological Gardens, and carrying the details of the bronze lions in our mind compared them immediately with the live lions. The result is—and we trust Sir Edwin Landseer will not be offended at the course we have pursued—that we can find no fault whatever with the details, anatomical and otherwise, of his four wonderful statues. The contour and set of the ear is perfectly right. The complicated flexures of the opening nostril are true to the eighth of an inch. The twist of the lower lip, which somewhat resembles a is perfectly modelled to nature, and the tonguedouble S and teeth are quite correct. The position of the canine-teeth in the heads of model lions is one of the best tests I know of painstaking observation on the part of the artist. Nine out of ten sculptured lions will be found

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