sir edwin landseer’s lions. 237

to have (according to the artist’s idea) the canine teeth of the lower jaw behind those of the upper, whereas in the animal itself the canine teeth of the lower jaw lock in a well in front of those of the upper. Keader, if you have not a lion’s skull by which you can see what I mean, please take your domestic puss from off the hearth-rug and separating her lips, look at her teeth, and

in nature theyou will see it in a moment—viz,, that lower canine-teeth are in front of the upper.

People have found fault with the hair between the

ears of the bronze lions; it looks like a sugar-loafpeak. This peak is to be found in nature. Some say there is too much hair along the lower parts of the body. Look for a moment at the old lion at the Zoological Gardens, and the doubter will see whether he or Sir Edwin Landseer is right. Much fault, has also been found with the apparent thickness and clumsiness of the forearm and paw. Well, I confess, they do look somewhat gouty, but this is perfectly unavoidable. In testing the bronze by the side of the living lions, the reason for this is at once obvious. From the elbow-joint downwards the skin, in nature, is covered with short hairs, so

closely set together as to resemble the pile of a lady’s velvet dress. Again, the paw itself—that terrible weapon of destruction, which looks so harmless when its margin formed by a lovelyquiescent—has, in nature, fringe of loose hair. Now, if a cast of this fore-arm and

238 sir edwin landseer’s lions.

paw were to be made in plaster from the living lion himself, the limb would come out as unlike the original as anything can be imagined. The reader may ask, How can you know this? Simply because I have been lately casting a great deal myself, and I have now before me a cast of a common hare, which I made in plaster but a few days since, taking the greatest care to get the details well moulded. The legs of this hare look as if they were cut out of a log of wood; and yet I know they must be right, because they are cast from the original. The cast of this hare leads me to the conviction that if Sir Edwin had made a bronze cast of the actual body of a lion, it would have looked as unlike a lion as it possibly could. My hare does not look the least like a hare; nor does a fox’s head look the least like a fox

so difficult, nay, impossible, is it to represent light delicate fur in a solid substance, though smooth-skinned creatures, such as fish and reptiles, come out wonderfully when modelled in plaster. There are of course no claws represented in the statues. These are, like the English Army and Navy, not thrust forward in a swaggering and boastful manner, but are still ever ready for action at a moment’s notice. The bronze shows the marking on the front part of the foot, under which these

claws lie concealed. Sir Edwin had another difficulty to contend with in modelling the face of these lions, and one I do not

sir edwin landseer’s lions. 23S

think any of the critics have at all noticed. In the common cat, and more especially in the lion, it will be found that those beautiful and delicately-formed struc-tures which spring from the upper lip, and which fall downwards and outwards in such graceful curves-mean, of course, the whiskers—as well as the hairs which overhang the eye, projecting forward and upward, to say nothing of the scattered hairs between the ear and the nose, are wanting; and why? because it was impossible for Sir Edwin to represent them in the bronze; and if imitated in wire or other substance they would become absurd. The bronze lions at Charing Cross have, for this reason, no whiskers or other projecting hairs about the head, and therefore the artist has had as much difficulty in representing their features as a portrait-painter would have in producing a truthful portrait of a Lifeguardsman without his moustache and whiskers, or a sculptor a spectacle-less bust of an old gentleman who had never been seen by mortal eye but with huge spectacles on the bridge of his nose.

The attitude of these Charing Cross lions is very good, inasmuch as it is the natural attitude of an animal in repose, but ready at a moment’s notice to spring upon its feet, the very embodiment of strength and ferocity. “ Soldiers on the watch, but standing at ease.” Eeader, if you are not content with the attitude, examine a statue of a lion in the recumbent posture; you wL

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240 sir edwin Landseer’s lions.

find him in the entrance hall of the Polytechnic. You will then see what a great difference there is between Sir Edwin’s lions and that to which I now call attention and you will, I think, agree with me that Sir Edwin has chosen the right posture. Again, if you examine twenty separate lions, you will find no two alike, any more than if you examine twenty men, or as many horses, will you find two alike. There are two lions now at the Zoological Gardens, one fifteen years old, the other nine years old. These creatures will serve as an example: by the accurate observer they will be found to differ in many points, especially in their physiognomy. The first sunny day test your powers cf observation with these two fine beasts, and compare them with the Charing Cross bronze statues. Sir Edwin, it appears to me, has given the portrait of no lion in particular. As the face of the celebrated Apollo Belvedere, or the Venus de Medici, are the portraits of no individuals in particular, but the embodiment of human beauty and grace, so Sir Edwin’s statues are the portraits of no particular lion, but simply ideals of what is called “Leonine beauty,” both of form and expression.

England being a free country, everybody has a right to his own opinion, and I for my part venture to record that these statues are faultless, and that they do the

highest credit to the great naturalist of our artistic world, Sir Edwin Landseer.

241

TIGERS.

Though I have not had much to do with live Lions, yet one day I had great fun with a young tiger. My friend Mr. Bartlett kindly sent over to the Regent’s Park Barracks, to report that they were all ready to “ pack up a tiger,” and would I come over? Of course, I was soon at the Gardens, and a curious scene took

place. The tiger to be “ packed up ” was about the size of a good big sheep-dog (only, of course, longer in the body). She had been captured as a cub, and brought over from India on board ship, where she had been made a great pet of by the sailors, and was in consequence more or less tame. " Puss ” (for that was her name) was in one of the big dens next to the large lions, having for her playmate a young leopard. The cage in which she was to be placed was wheeled up in front of the den, and laid on its side; it was simply a large box with strong broad wooden bars on one side (the two centre ones taken out), and two strong ser. in. &

bits of wood so arranged as to be screwed down in front of all the bars when the beast was safe inside. I write when, because it proved no easy task to get her into this box. All preliminaries being arranged, Cocksedge, the keeper, who knows no fear with his beasts, went into the den with the tiger, and called a Puss, puss, puss,” in an amiable manner. The tiger came bounding up in a kitten-like fashion; she carried her tail erect over her back, and then raising her fur, began to purr and rub herself against his legs. Cocksedge then took a bit of rope out of one of his capacious pockets, and proceeded to pass the end of it under Puss’s collar. Puss in the meantime began to play

with the slack of the rope, as though it was great fun. Cocksedge, having fixed the rope, began to draw Puss gently towards the door. She did not seem to care about this very much, but still thinking that “a romp” was meant, patted the rope with her paws. Cocksedge, however, got outside the door of the cage, and pulled harder. Puss began to think that something more than a game of play was meant, so she extended her paws, and pulled well backwards, while her expression seemed to say, u two can play at that game, my friend.” Another keeper then got into the den, and giving her a gentle lift up behind, out she went of the open door, on to the stone space which is railed off4 to keep

visitors from the bars of the dens. The moment Pus3 felt she was out of the cage, she crouched down, lashing her tail, as though determined not to move an inch. The box was brought nearer, and the rope passed in round one of the bars, and then outside again. The keepers began to pull gently and slowly upon it, the only result being to bring the “ mountain to Mahomet” —i.e., the box to Puss, not Puss to the box.

When the box was close to her head, they gave a sudden pull on the rope, and at the same time advanced the box quite close to her. The result was most laughable. Has the reader ever witnessed the execution of “ Punch,” by hanging, in that most popular of street performances? “ Punch,” it may be recollected, cannot be made to understand where he is to place his head. In like manner, Puss could not understand what benefit could be derived from placing her head in the opening of the box before her: so the result of the pull on the rope, the advancing of the box, and the lifting of her hind-quarters, was simply to bring her head well on to the top of the box, several inches above the lid, her sprawling arms and legs being extended, spread-eagle fashion, in front of it. “ Try again,” therefore, was the word. “ Look out,” said I to Cocksedge, “ the strap round Puss’s neck is only leather, and is very likely to give way.” Accordingly, on the next trial, smack it went, and Puss, feeling herself loose

and free, instantly made a bolt for it. Cocksedge, with his usual coolness and courage, snatched at her as she was slouching quickly away, and got fast hold of her

tail.

Like the cats used in that refined, but barbarous punishment of the poor niggers, where a common house-cat is placed on the black man’s back, and her tail smartly pulled, so did our 11 Puss ” instantly extend all her sharp talons, and hold on, spread-eagle fashion, as well as she could, to the stones, thus giving time and opportunity for the rope (without the strap) to be placed round her neck. A trial was again made to get her into the box; but Puss, having by this time found out that Cocksedge was in earnest, showed fight in the most wonderful manner. She put back her ears, showed her young, yet terrible fangs, and struck at any intruding human limb with her broad, talon-armed pads; she had quite lost her temper, and was a true embodiment of the phrase the nurse sometimes applies to a naughty child— “ She fought like a young tiger.” At last, feeling somewhat exhausted, she sat down on her haunches, lashing her tail from side to side with

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