Several attendants entered the building as he spoke; for to handle a large number of fully grown wild animals is no light matter. The first animals to come rushing into the arena were a number of huge German boar-hounds—great affectionate beasts they were, too. I patted one of them as he passed me, and he reared himself on his hind legs, threw his forepaws round my neck, and delightedly covered my face with kisses. Each boar-hound on entering the circle went to his own allotted place with all the sense of a human being. A few moments afterwards a door was thrown open, and in walked the lions and tigers. Splendid big beasts these last were. Some looked very good-tempered, although it is to be acknowledged that one tiger had evidently got out of bed the wrong side, whilst a lion that had arrived comparatively recently from Nubia 132 evinced now and again a strong disposition to rebel against the novel circumstances in which he found himself placed. Three bears then walked in—a polar bear, a sloth bear, and a black bear, the latter causing much amusement by quietly entering on its hind legs. Then came a couple of elephants, a camel, four ponies, several goats, and last of all a big, sleepy sheep, which seemed to be on particularly intimate terms with one of the lions.
One of the most remarkable things that I noticed in Karl Hagenbeck’s menagerie is the marvellous unity and loving-kindness which is brought to pass amongst his animals. They are fondling and playing with each other the whole day long. Like the younger animals, they took their seats upon the rickety pedestals which are provided for them. It was a wonder to me how such huge beasts were able to balance themselves so easily and comfortably as they did upon such small and slender supports. One of them, however, came to grief in a most amusing manner. The human beings were standing talking together in the middle of the circle, when suddenly a loud crash and an indignant howl was heard. We all turned to see what was the matter, as did also the wild beasts themselves; one of the lions had suddenly tumbled down off his perch, or rather the perch had fallen with him, and there he lay, more startled than hurt, wondering what on earth had happened. It was partly his own fault, poor dear fellow, for he had fallen asleep whilst waiting for the performance to begin, and so lost his balance. But his look of indignant surprise was so ludicrously human that none of us could help laughing. However, both he and his pedestal were speedily reinstated in their former position, and a lump of sugar soon restored him to his usual tranquillity of spirit.
“And will the animals be arranged round the Chicago circus like this, Mr. Hagenbeck?” said I.
“Everything will be exactly as you see it to-day,” he replied. “Perhaps, if anything, on a bigger scale.”
At this moment the band struck up a stirring tune, on hearing which the animals delightedly pricked their ears, and all became life and animation at once!
“My animals love music,” said Mr. Hagenbeck, “and they perform twice as well with a band as they do without.”
The first thing that took place was the riding round the circus on a pony by a full-grown lion. Round and round they went. The pony spiritedly enough; the lion, it must be confessed, looking, as wild beasts generally do when engaged in such performances, rather a fool.