Felis Tigris. Linn.

Closely allied to the Lion, whom he resembles in size, in power, in external form, in internal structure, in zoological characters, in his prowling habits, and in his sanguinary propensities, the Tiger is at once distinguished from that king of beasts, and from every other of their common genus, by the peculiar marking of his coat. On a ground which exhibits in different individuals various shades of yellow, he is elegantly striped by a series of transverse black bands or bars, which occupy the sides of his head, neck, and body, and are continued upon his tail in the form of rings, the last of the series uniformly occupying the extremity of that organ, and giving to it a black tip of greater or less extent. The under parts of his body and the inner sides of his legs are almost entirely white; he has no mane; and his whole frame, though less elevated than that of the Lion, is of a slenderer and more graceful make. His head is also shorter and more rounded.

Almost in the same degree that the Lion has been exalted and magnified, at the expense of his fellow brutes, has the Tiger been degraded and depressed below his just and natural level. While the one has been held up to admiration, as the type and standard of heroic perfection, the other has, with equal capriciousness of judgment and disregard of the close and intimate relationship subsisting between them, been looked upon by mankind in general with those feelings of unmingled horror and detestation which his character for untameable ferocity and insatiable thirst of blood was so well calculated to inspire. It requires, however, but little consideration to teach us that the broad distinction, which has thus been drawn, cannot by possibility exist; and the recorded observations of naturalists and travellers, both at home and abroad, will be found amply sufficient to prove that the difference in their characters and habits, on which so much stress has been laid, is in reality as slight and unessential as that which exists in their corporeal structure.

Unquestionably the Tiger has not the majesty of the Lion; for he is destitute of the mane, in which that majesty chiefly resides. Neither has he the same calm and dignified air of imperturbable gravity which is at once so striking and so prepossessing in the aspect of the Lion. But, on the other hand, it will readily be granted, that in the superior lightness of his frame, which allows his natural agility its free and unrestricted scope, and in the graceful ease and spirited activity of his motions, to say nothing of the beauty, the regularity, and the vividness of his colouring, he far excels his competitor, whose giant bulk and comparative heaviness of person, added to the dull uniformity of his colour, detract in no small degree from the impression produced by his noble and majestic bearing.

In comparing the moral qualities of these two formidable animals, we shall also find that the shades of difference, for at most they are but shades, which distinguish them, are, like their external characteristics, pretty equally balanced in favour of each. In all the leading features of their character, the habits of both are essentially the same. The Tiger, equally with the Lion, and in common indeed with the whole of the group to which he belongs, reposes indolently in the security of his den, until the calls of appetite stimulate him to look abroad for food. He then chooses a convenient ambush, in which to lie concealed from observation, generally amid the underwood of the forest, but sometimes even on the branches of a tree, which he climbs with all the agility of a cat. In this secret covert he awaits with patient watchfulness the approach of his prey, upon which he darts forth with an irresistible bound, and bears it off in triumph to his den. Unlike the Lion, however, if his first attack proves unsuccessful, and he misses his aim, he does not usually slink sullenly back into his retreat, but pursues his victim with a speed and activity which is seldom baffled even by the fleetest animals.

It is only when this close and covert mode of attack has failed in procuring him the necessary supply, that, urged by those inward cravings, which are the ruling impulse of all his actions, he prowls abroad under the veil of night, and ventures to approach the dwellings of man, of whom he does not appear to feel that instinctive awe which the Lion has been known so frequently to evince. But even on such occasions, and although impelled by the strong stimulus of famine, he is in general far from unmindful of his own security; but creeps slowly along his silent path with all the stealthy caution so characteristic of the feline tribe. Occasionally, however, when the pangs of hunger have become intolerable, and can no longer be controlled even by the overpowering sway of instinct, he will boldly advance upon man himself in the open face of day, and brave every danger in the pursuit of that object which, to the exclusion of every other sentiment, appears under such circumstances wholly to engross his faculties.

It is evident then that in the general outline of his habits, and even in most of the separate traits by which his character is marked, he differs but little from the Lion. His courage, if brute force stimulated by sensual appetite can deserve that honourable name, is at least equal; and as for magnanimity and generosity, the idea of attributing such noble qualities to either is in itself so absurd, and is so fully refuted by every particular of their authentic history, that it would be perfectly ridiculous to attempt a comparison where no materials for comparison exist. It may, however, be observed that in one point the disposition of the Tiger appears to be more cruel than that of the Lion; inasmuch as it is related, that he is not at all times satisfied with a single victim, but deals forth wholesale destruction, without mercy and without distinction, upon whatever may chance to be within the reach of his murderous talons. This, however, is by no means his constant or usual practice; his instinct being in general sufficient to teach him that his purpose is as effectually answered by one fatal bound as by the most extensive devastation; for neither he, nor any of the more powerful of his tribe, return to their prey after the first meal, but leave its mangled relics for the ignoble beasts which follow in their train.

To what cause then, if the similarity between these two animals be so great, and the points of distinction between them so trifling, can we attribute the very different impressions which we have all received, and in all probability continue to cherish, with regard to their respective characters? Perhaps something like a plausible answer to this question may be found in the fact, that our notions of the Lion have been formed on the striking and exaggerated pictures of his noble qualities, for which we are indebted to the poets of antiquity, who contemplated him only in his captive and almost domesticated state; while our early ideas of the Tiger were derived in a great measure from the equally exaggerated statements of miserable and pusillanimous Hindoos, the spiritless and unresisting victims of every species of oppression, who regarded him with almost unspeakable horror as the merciless tyrant of their forests,—a tyrant whose ferocious temper and sanguinary ravages were equalled only by those of the human despots, to whom, as well as to their brute oppressors, they paid the base tribute of servile minds, in the fearful dread and crouching awe with which they prostrated themselves at the feet of both.

Nothing in fact can exceed the terror which this formidable animal inspires in those countries which are liable to his devastations. More restricted, however, in this respect than the Lion, he is entirely unknown in Africa, and is rarely, if ever, to be met with in Asia on this side the Indus. In the south of China, and in the larger Asiatic Islands, such as Sumatra and Java, he is unhappily but too common; but it is said, we know not with what degree of truth, that in the last mentioned locality he is less ferocious than in the Peninsula of Hindostan. This is truly the cradle of his existence and the seat of his empire, in which he disputes dominion even with the Lion himself, who is comparatively rare in the Indian jungles, and with whom the Tiger has been sometimes known to join in deadly and successful struggle for the mastery. Endowed with a degree of force, which the Lion and the Elephant alone can equal, he carries off a buffalo in his tremendous jaws, almost without relaxing from his usual speed. With a single stroke of his claws he rips open the body of the largest animals; and is said to suck their blood with insatiable avidity. Of the correctness of this latter statement, at least in its full extent, there is however strong reason to doubt. The Tiger does not, according to the most credible accounts, exhibit this propensity to drinking the blood of his victims in any greater degree than the rest of his carnivorous and blood-thirsty companions. In this, as in other instances, fear has drawn largely on credulity, and the simple and sufficiently disgusting fact has been amplified and exaggerated with all the refinements upon horror which the terrified imagination could suggest.

In making these observations it is far from our intention to become the apologists of this ferocious beast: our object is simply to place him in the rank which he deserves to hold, on a level with those animals with whom Nature has decreed that he should be associated no less in character than in form. In his wild and unrestricted state, he is unquestionably one of the most terrible of the living scourges, to whose fatal ravages the lower animals, and even man himself, are exposed. But in captivity, and especially if domesticated while young, his temper is equally pliant, his disposition equally docile, and his manners and character equally susceptible of amelioration, with those of any other animal of his class. All the stories that have been so frequently reiterated, until they have at length passed current without examination as accredited truths, of his intractable disposition and insensibility to the kind treatment of his keepers, towards whom it is alleged that he never exhibits the slightest feelings of gratitude, have been proved by repeated experience to be utterly false and groundless. He is tamed with as much facility, and as completely, as the Lion; and soon becomes familiarised with those who feed him, whom he learns to distinguish from others, and by whom he is fond of being noticed and caressed. Like the cat, which he resembles so closely in all his actions, he arches his broad and powerful back beneath the hand that caresses him; he licks his fur and smooths himself with his paws; and purrs in the same mild and expressive manner when he is particularly pleased. He remains perfectly quiet and undisturbed, unless when hungry or irritated, and passes the greater part of his time in listless repose. His roar is nearly similar to that of the Lion, and, like his, is by no means to be regarded as a symptom of anger, which he announces by a short and shrill cry, approaching to a scream.

Two of these noble animals, the one male and the other female, are among the most striking and attractive ornaments of the Menagerie. The beautiful male, of which our figure offers a characteristic likeness, is a very recent importation, having arrived in England in the month of April of the present year, in the East India Company’s ship Buckinghamshire, to the commander of which, Captain Glasspool, we are indebted for the following particulars relative to his birthplace, capture, early life, and education. He was taken prisoner in company with two other cubs, supposed to be not more than three weeks old, on that part of the coast of the peninsula of Malacca which is opposite to the island of Penang, and is commonly known by the name of the Queda Coast. In our present imperfect acquaintance with this part of the farther peninsula of Hindoostan, it affords perhaps but little ground for surprise that none of these terrible animals should have previously reached this quarter of the globe from a locality so seldom visited by European vessels. Their existence in its extensive jungles and marshy plains has long, however, been notorious; and to judge from the specimen now before us, which, although barely two years old, already exceeds in size the full-grown Asiatic Lion which occupies the neighbouring den, they must in that situation be at least as formidable as their fellows of the hither peninsula. The dam of this individual had, it appears, made a nocturnal incursion into one of the towns of the district, from which she had carried off a large quantity of provisions. She was pursued and killed, and her three cubs were taken possession of by the conquerors in token of their victory and brought home in triumph. One of them, a female, died shortly after; the second, a male, is still living in the possession of a resident at Penang; and the third, the subject of the present article, also fell into the hands of a gentleman of that settlement, in whose paddock he was confined, in company with a pony and a dog, for upwards of twelve months, without evincing the least inclination to injure his companions or any one who approached him. By this gentleman he was presented to Captain Glasspool, who brought him to England: on the voyage he was remarkably tame, allowing the sailors to play with him, and appearing to take much pleasure in their caresses. On being placed in his present den he was rather sulky for a few days; but seems now to have recovered his good temper, and to be perfectly reconciled to his situation. The mildness of his temper may probably be in a great measure due to his having from a very early age been accustomed to boiled food; raw flesh never having been offered to him until after his arrival in the Menagerie. This change of food he seems particularly to enjoy, although he has by no means lost his appetite for soup, which he devours with much eagerness. Notwithstanding his immature age, Mr. Cops considers him the largest Tiger that he ever saw.

The other individual at present in the Tower is a Tigress of great beauty from Bengal, scarcely a twelvemonth old, who also promises to become an exceedingly fine animal. During her passage from Calcutta she was allowed to range about the vessel unrestricted, became perfectly familiar with the sailors, and showed not the slightest symptom of ferocity. On her arrival, however, in the Thames, the irritation produced by the sight of strangers completely and instantly changed her temper, rendering her irascible and dangerous. Her deportment was so sulky and savage that Mr. Cops could scarcely be prevailed on by her former keeper, who saw her shortly afterwards, to allow him to enter her den: but no sooner did she recognise her old friend, than she fawned upon him, licked him, and caressed him, exhibiting the most extravagant signs of pleasure; and when he left her she cried and whined for the remainder of the day. To her new residence and her new keeper she is now perfectly reconciled.