In reprobating the baiting of this tame lion by trained and savage dogs, the periodical press has been unanimous. The New Times says, “We rejoice to observe the strong feeling of aversion with which the public in general have heard of this cruel exhibition. As a question of natural history, it may be deemed curious to ascertain the comparative ferocity of the lion and the bull-dog; but even in this respect the Warwick fight cannot be deemed satisfactory; for though the lion was a large and majestic animal, yet, as he had been born and brought up in a domestic state, he had evidently little or nothing of the fury which a wild animal of the same species evinces in combat. Buffon observes, that ‘the lion is very susceptible of the impressions given to him, and has always docility enough to be rendered tame to a certain degree.’ He adds, that ‘the lion, if taken young, and brought up among domestic animals, easily accustoms himself to live with them, and even to play without doing them injury; that he is mild to his keeper, and even caressing, especially in the early part of his life; and that if his natural fierceness now and then breaks out, it is seldom turned against those who have treated him with kindness.’ These remarks of the great naturalist are very fully confirmed by the conduct of poor Nero; for both before and after the combat, he suffered his keeper, Wombwell, with impunity to enter his den, give him water to drink, and throw the remainder over his head.—We begin now to feel that a man has no right to torment inferior animals for his amusement; but it must be confessed that this sentiment is rather of recent predominance. The gladiatorial shows of Rome, the quail-fights of India, the bull-fights of Spain, may, in some measure, keep our barbarous ancestors in countenance; but the fact is, that bear-baiting, badger-baiting, bull-baiting, cock-fighting, and such elegant modes of setting on poor animals to worry and torment each other, were, little more than a century ago, the fashionable amusement of persons in all ranks of life. They have gradually descended to the lowest of the vulgar; and though there always will be found persons who adopt the follies and vices of their inferiors, yet these form a very small and inconsiderable minority of the respectable classes; and in another generation it will probably be deemed disgraceful in a gentleman to associate, on any occasion, with prize-fighters and pickpockets.” By right education, and the diffusion of humane principles, we may teach youth to shun the inhuman example of their forefathers.
WOMBWELL’S SECOND LION BAIT.
Determined not to forego a shilling which could be obtained by the exposure of an animal to torture, Wombwell in the same week submitted another of his lions to be baited.
The Times, in giving an account of this renewed brutality, after a forcible expression of its “disgust and indignation at the cruelty of the spectacle, and the supineness of the magistracy,” proceeds thus: “Wombwell has, notwithstanding the public indignation which accompanied the exposure of the lion Nero to the six dogs, kept his word with the lovers of cruel sports by a second exhibition. He matched his ‘Wallace,’ a fine lion, cubbed in Scotland, against six of the best dogs that could be found. Wallace’s temper is the very opposite of that of the gentle Nero. It is but seldom that he lets even his feeders approach him, and he soon shows that he cannot reconcile himself to familiarity from any creature not of his own species. Towards eight o’clock the factory-yard was well attended, at 5s. each person, and soon after the battle commenced. The lion was turned from his den to the same stage on which Nero fought. The match was—1st. Three couples of dogs to be slipped at him, two at a time—2d. Twenty minutes or more, as the umpires should think fit, to be allowed between each attack—3d. The dogs to be handed to the cage once only. Tinker, Ball, Billy, Sweep, Turpin, Tiger.”
THE FIGHT.
“In the first round, Tinker and Ball were let loose, and both made a gallant attack; the lion having waited for them as if aware of the approach of his foes. He showed himself a forest lion, and fought like one. He clapped his paw upon poor Ball, took Tinker in his teeth, and deliberately walked round the stage with him as a cat would with a mouse. Ball, released from the paw, worked all he could, but Wallace treated his slight punishment by a kick now and then. He at length dropped Tinker, and that poor animal crawled off the stage as well as he could. The lion then seized Ball by the mouth, and played precisely the same game with him as if he had actually been trained to it. Ball would have been almost devoured, but his second got hold of him through the bars, and hauled him away. Turpin, a London, and Sweep, a Liverpool dog, made an excellent attack, but it was three or four minutes before the ingenuity of their seconds could get them on. Wallace squatted on his haunches, and placed himself erect at the slope where the dogs mounted the stage, as if he thought they dared not approach. The dogs, when on, fought gallantly; but both were vanquished in less than a minute after their attack. The London dog bolted as soon as he could extricate himself from the lion’s grasp, but Sweep would have been killed on the spot, but he was released. Wedgbury untied Billy and Tiger, casting a most piteous look upon the wounded dogs around him. Both went to work. Wallace seized Billy by the loins, and when shaking him, Tiger having run away, Wedgbury cried out, ‘There, you see how you’ve gammoned me to have the best dog in England killed.’ Billy, however, escaped with his life; he was dragged through the railing, after having received a mark in the loins, which (if he recovers at all) will probably render him unfit for any future contest. The victory of course was declared in favour of the lion.—Several well-dressed women viewed the contest from the upper apartment of the factory.”—Women!
Lion Fights in England.
It is more than two hundred years since an attempt has been made in this country to fight a lion against dogs. In the time of James I., the exhibition took place for the amusement of the court. Those who are curious on the subject, will find in “Seymour’s Survey,” a description of an experiment of that nature, in 1610. Two lions and a bear were first put into a pit together, but they agreed perfectly well, and disappointed the royal spectators in not assaulting each other. A high-spirited horse was then put in with them, but neither the bear nor the lions attacked him. Six mastiffs were next let loose, but they directed all their fury against the horse, flew upon it, and would have torn it in pieces, but for the interference of the bear-wards, who went into the pit, and drew the dogs away, the lions and bear remaining unconcerned. Your profound antiquarian will vouch for the truth of this narration, but it goes a very little way to establish the fact of an actual fight between a lion and dogs. Perhaps an extract from Stow’s Annals may be more satisfactory. It is an account of a contest stated to have taken place in the presence of James I., and his son, prince Henry. “One of the dogs being put into the den, was soon disabled by the lion, who took him by the head and neck, and dragged him about. Another dog was then let loose, and served in the same manner; but the third being put in, immediately seized the lion by the lip, and held him for a considerable time; till being severely torn by his claws, the dog was obliged to quit his hold; and the lion, greatly exhausted by the conflict, refused to renew the engagement; but, taking a sudden leap over the dogs, fled into the interior of his den. Two of the dogs soon died of their wounds; the third survived, and was taken great care of by the prince, who said, ‘he that had fought with the king of beasts should never after fight with an inferior creature.’”[218]