In the Nineveh galleries of the British Museum we also see pictured in stone the employment of the Lion, in the life of Assyria and Babylonia, three thousand years since; in the events of a succession of dynasties, recording the sieges of cities, the combats of warriors, the triumphs of Kings, the processions of victors, the chains and fetters of the vanquished. To the zoological observer these sculptures present drawings ad naturam of tableaux of Lions and Lion-hunts; Lions in combat, as well as in moveable dens and cages, and the ferocity of the chase; and Lions transfixed with arrows or javelins in the arena. One of the finest of these sculptures is in the representation of a Lion-hunt, on a long slab that lined the principal chamber of the most ancient palace at Nimroud. The King is in his chariot, drawn by three horses, which the charioteer is urging forward to escape the attack of an infuriated Lion that has already placed its fore-paws upon the back of the chariot. At this critical moment, the Royal descendant of the mighty hunter aims a deadly shaft at the head of the roaring and wounded Lion, the position of whose tail and limbs is finely indicative of rage and fury. Behind the Lion are two of the King's attendants, fully armed, and holding their daggers and shields, ready to defend themselves in case the prey should escape the arrow of the King. Before the chariot is a wounded Lion, crawling from under the horses' feet. The cringing agony conveyed in its entire action is well contrasted with the undaunted fury of the former. In another slab we have the continuation of the same Lion-hunt, representing the triumphant return of the King from the chase. At his feet lies the Lion subdued, but not dead.
Of the pageantry of the Lion, we read, in Bell's "Travels," that the monarch of Persia had, on days of audience, two great Lions chained on each side of the passage to the state-room, led there by keepers in golden chains.
Our early English Sovereigns had a menagerie in the Tower from the reign of Henry III. (1252.) In 1370 (44 Edward III.) are entries of payments made to "the Keeper of the King's Lions and Leopards" there, at the rate of 6d. a-day for his wages, and 6d. a-day for each beast. The number of beasts varied from four to seven. Two young Lions are specially mentioned; and "a Lion lately sent by the Lord the Prince, from Germany to England, to our Lord the King." And we read, in Lord Burghley's "Diary," 1586, of the grant of the keeping of the Lions in the Tower, with "the Fine of 12d. per diem, and 6d. for the Meat of those Lions." The first menagerie-building was the Lion Tower, to which was added a semicircular inclosure, where Lions and Bears were baited with dogs, with which James I. and his court were much delighted. A Lion was named after the reigning King; and it was popularly believed that "when the King dies, the Lion of that name dies after him." The last of the Tower animals were transferred to the Zoological Society's menagerie, in the Regent's-park, in 1834. The Tower menagerie is well described in a handsome volume, with woodcut portraits, by William Harvey.
The punishment of being thrown to Lions is stated as common among the Romans of the first century; and numerous tales are extant, in which the fierce animals became meek and lamb-like before the holy virgins of the Church. This, indeed, is the origin of the superstition, nowhere more beautifully expressed than in Lord Byron's "Siege of Corinth":—
"'Tis said that a Lion will turn and flee
From a maid in the pride of her purity."
Every wild beast show almost has its tame Lion, with which the keeper takes the greatest liberties; liberties which the beast will suffer, generally speaking, from none but him. Major Smith relates that he had seen the keeper of a Lioness stand upon the beast, drag her round the cage by her tail, open her jaws, and thrust his head between her teeth. Another keeper, at New York, had provided himself with a fur cap, the novelty of which attracted the notice of the Lion, which, making a sudden grapple, tore the cap off his head as he passed the cage; but, perceiving that the keeper was the person whose head he had thus uncovered, he immediately laid the cap down. Wombwell, in his menagerie, had a fine Lion, Nero, that allowed strangers to enter his den, and even put their heads within his jaws. This tameness is not, however, to be trusted, since the natural ferocity of some Lions is never safely subdued. Lions which have been sometimes familiar, have, on other occasions, been known to kill their keepers, and dart at those who have incautiously approached too near their cage. All these exhibitions have been entirely eclipsed by the feats of Van Amburgh, in his exercise of complete control over Lions. The melancholy fate of "the Lion Queen," however, tells of the fatal result of her confidence. The Lion-killing feats of Captain Gordon Cumming had a more legitimate object in view—to render us more familiar with the zoological character of the Lion.
Colonization has scarcely yet extirpated the Lion in Algeria, where the French colonists make fine sport of "the King of the Beasts." M. Jules Gerard, a Nimroud in his way, has been noted for his Lion-killing feats. We read of his tracking a large old Lion in the Smauls country, one hundred leagues in ten days, without catching a glimpse of anything but his foot-prints. At length, accompanied by a native of the country and a spahi, Gerard took up his quarters at the foot of a tree upon the path which the old Lion had taken. It was moonlight, and Gerard made out two Lions sitting about one hundred paces off, and exactly in the shadow of the tree. The Arab lay snoring ten paces off, in the full light of the moon, and had, doubtless, attracted the attention of the Lions. Gerard expressly forbade the spahi to wake the Arab. Our Lion-hunter then got up the hill to reconnoitre; the boldest of the Lions came up to within ten paces of Gerard, and fifteen of the Arab: the Lion's eye was fixed on the latter, and the second Lion placed himself on a level with, and four or five paces from, the first. They proved to be both full-grown Lionesses. Gerard took aim at the first as she came rolling and roaring down to the foot of the tree. The Arab was scarcely awakened, when a second ball stretched the Lioness dead upon the spot. Gerard then looked out for the second Lioness, who was standing up within fifteen paces, looking around her. He fired, and she fell down roaring, and disappeared in a field of maize; she fell, but was still alive. Next morning at daybreak, at the spot where the Lioness had fallen, were blood marks, denoting her track in the direction of a wood. After sending off the dead Lioness. Gerard returned to his post of the preceding night. A little after sunset the Lion roared in his lair, and continued roaring all night. Convinced that the wounded Lioness was there, Gerard sent two Arabs to explore the cover, but they durst not. He next evening reached the lair, taking with him a goat, which he left with the Arabs: the Lioness appeared. Gerard fired, and she fell without a struggle; she was believed dead, but she got up again as though nothing was the matter, and showed all her teeth. One of the Arabs, within six paces of her, seeing her get up, clung to the lower branches of a tree and disappeared like a squirrel. The Lioness fell dead at the foot of the tree, a second bullet piercing her heart: the first had passed out of the nape of the neck without breaking the skull-bone.