the king builded a wall, and filled up with earth all that part of the moat or ditch about the west side of the lions’ den, and appointed a drawing partition to be made towards the south part thereof, the one part thereof to serve for the breeding lioness when she shall have whelps, and the other part thereof for a walk for the other lions. The king caused also three trap-doors to be made in the wall of the lion’s den, for the lions to go into their walk at the pleasure of the keeper, which walk shall be maintained and kept for especial place to bait the lions with dogs, bears, bulls, boars, &c.”
Ned Ward, of “merry memory,” in his London Spy, published above a century and a half ago, has left us the following anecdotes of the Lions in the Tower.
“One of the keeper’s servants, whilst he was shewing us his unruly prisoners, entertained us with a couple of remarkable stories, which, because the tragedy of the one will render an escape in the other story the more providential, I shall proceed to give them to the reader in their proper places—namely, that a maid, some years since, being a servant to the keeper, and a bold, spirited wench, took pleasure now and then in helping to feed the lions, and imprudently believing the gratitude of the beasts would not suffer them to hurt her, she would venture sometimes—though with extraordinary caution—to be a little more familiar with them than she ought to be. At last she either carelessly or presumptuously ventured too near their dens; and one of the lions caught hold of her arm, and tore it off quite at the shoulder, after a most lamentable manner, before any body could come to her assistance; killing her with a gripe, before he would loose her from his talons, till she was a miserable object of her own folly, the lion’s fury, and the world’s pity.
“This story he succeeded by another, wherein was shewn as miraculous a preservation of himself, contrary to the cruelty the lion had before used to his unhappy fellow-servant, which he delivered after this following manner, namely:
“ ‘’Tis our custom,’ says he, ‘when we clean the lions’ dens, to drive them down over-night through a trap-door into a lower conveniency, in order to rise early in the morning and refresh their day apartments by clearing them; and having through mistake, and not forgetfulness, left one of the trap-doors unbolted, which I thought I had carefully secured, I came down in the morning, before daylight, with my candle and lanthern fastened before me to my button, with my implements in my hands, to despatch my business, as was usual; and going carelessly into one of the dens, a lion had returned through the trap-door, and lay couchant in a corner, with his head towards me. The sudden surprise of this terrible sight brought me under such dreadful apprehensions of the dangers I was in, that I stood fixed like a statue, without the power of motion, with my eyes steadfast upon the lion, and his likewise upon me. I expected nothing but to be torn to pieces every moment, and was fearful to attempt one step back, lest my endeavour to shun him might have made him the more eager to have hastened my destruction. At last he roused himself, as though to have a breakfast off me; yet, by the assistance of Providence, I had the presence of mind to keep steady in my posture, for the reasons before-mentioned. He moved towards me without expressing in his countenance either greediness or anger; but, on the contrary, wagged his tail, signifying nothing but friendship in his fawning behaviour; and after he had stared me a little in the face, he raises himself up on his two hindmost feet, and laying his two fore paws upon my shoulders without hurting me, fell to licking my face, as a further instance of his gratitude for my feeding him, as I afterwards conjectured; though then I expected every minute when he would have stripped my skin over my ears, as a poulterer does a rabbit, and have cracked my head between his teeth, as a monkey does a small nut.
“ ‘His tongue was so very rough, that with the few favourite kisses he gave me, it made my cheeks almost as raw as a pork griskin, which I was very glad to take in good part without a bit of grumbling. And when he had thus saluted me, and given me his sort of welcome to his den, he returned to his place, and laid him down, doing me no further damage; which unexpected deliverance hitherto occasioned me to take courage, that I slunk back by degrees till I recovered the trap-door, through which I jumped, and pulled it after me; thus happily, through an especial Providence, I escaped the fury of so dangerous a creature.’ ”
Ward also mentions two stuffed lions, one said to have been Queen Mary’s, the other King Charles’s: and of the latter he says, he “had no more fierceness in his looks that he had when living, than the effigies of his good master at Westminster has the prescence of the original.”—London Spy, part 13.