DESCRIPTION OF THE PLATES.

That there has hitherto existed no good book of Engravings of the nobler wild animals, to assist the progress of the student in that department of Art, is to be regretted. The talents of Mr. John Scott, brought into action by those of Gilpin, Cooper, and the Reinagles, have presented the public with excellent representations of the distinguished ornaments of the turf: the sports of the field, and the habits and manners of the canine race, were also duly honoured: but of the ferocious Tiger tribe, and the lordly Lion, we have nothing extant that would bear critical inspection, beyond a few detached prints:—nothing like a collection of figures, whose justness and accuracy of form, action, character, and expression, might be relied on.

Does any reader imagine that the various Etchings which have been performed—chiefly abroad—by Artists of no mean ability, may be considered as exceptions? They are not exceptions: or at best, the number which might be so regarded is but small, and those, for the most part, of dimensions not accommodated to the drawer of the cabinet, or the shelf of the library.

But they are not objectionable on this ground alone. Speaking of them in the aggregate, the heavier charge lies against them of being insufficient to those purposes of taste and information which are the ends of Art. Even those after Titian and after Rubens (the latter of whom has perhaps painted a greater number than any other of the old masters) are far more deficient in form, character, and expression, than is generally supposed, or than will be easily believed, by those who have not actually compared them with the Lions, Leopards, and Tigers of Nature. They have been taken too much on the credit which attaches to the great names of their authors.—Nor is this intended to impugn the merits, as historical or poetical painters, of those distinguished Artists, but simply as an assertion of truth. It is possible, that as a painter of allegory, Rubens might consider that strong infusion of human form, character, and expression, by which his Lions, for example, are distinguished, as necessary, or conducive, to his allegorical purposes; or, it is possible that his knowledge of this animal may not have been thoroughly well-grounded, and that he may have laboured under early prejudice of mind, or of vision, in this part of his education as a Painter, and may not have seen Lions as they really are. This is what the writer is most inclined to believe, (though not to insist); for even in treating the subject of Daniel in the den of Lions—the scene of which, by the way, he has not represented as a royal menagerie, but as a wild, rocky cavern—his animals partake of the artificial character of which we cannot bring ourselves to approve.

Of this fact, however, we purpose to exhibit proof with our assertion. Improved versions, to the best abilities of our Artists, of some of these Lions of Rubens and the Assyrian king, will here be introduced, which the reader, who pleases, may compare with the originals. Our second, third, and fourth Plates are of the number.

The Lions of Rubens are humanized. We do not intend to discuss at length whether the ideality of allegorical painting required this: we only state the fact: yet the opinions which we felt at liberty to form on the subject, we feel at liberty to utter. So much in apology for using the licence of asserting that the heads of many of the Lions of Rubens rather resemble those of frowning old gentlemen decorated with Ramillies wigs; as if Nature’s journeymen had made manes, and not made them well. There is a profusion of flowing and curling hair, which seems rather to solicit the unguents of the perfumer, than to have endured the torrid heats of the desert, or the rough storms of the forest. The shag of a Lion’s mane is a very different sort of thing.

However such dressed Lions may be thought to accord with Allegory, they are demonstrably at variance with Nature. To be sure, what might become a Lion in the procession of the Cardinal Virtues, might be rather unsuitable in his den, or within the precincts of those wild haunts, where he is accustomed to roam in his natural state. We have often read of the fabled Men-bulls, or (Minotaurs,) and we find such on the coinage of Crete. These allegorical creatures of Rubens, which, alas! have sometimes been quoted by Artists without half his genius, and placed in savage conflicts, or beside their Britannias—are a species of Men-lions. Placed among the SabÆan sculptures, they might pass for incarnations of Sol in Leo; but would very ill pass for Leo alone.

Among the observers of this poetic improvement, or this natural and unpoetical deficiency, on the part of Rubens, Titian, Julio Romano, and other painters, both ancient and modern; and of the consequent desideratum on the part of the public, of a cabinet or library collection of the nobler wild animals in a state of Nature, so as to answer the purposes of reference, while they conduced to the pleasures of Taste, were Mr. Edgar Spilsbury and Mr. Thomas Landseer. Whether or not the public “looked up to them for light” on that subject, (to use the language of Sterne,) they thought the Public “deserved it;” and they therefore, as the best practical means of eliciting that light, first copied the general forms and attitudes of most of the wild animals that appear in this book, from the old masters—generally speaking, from works that are well known—and then, went to Nature and corrected the details. They carried with them what, in those ancient masters, was meritorious in composition, attitude and chiaroscuro, and brought away, to the best of their ability—superadding it to, and blending it with, the above—accuracy of detail.

Every artist does best, that which he is best qualified and best disposed to do. In completing the number of plates that has been found necessary for the Work, Mr. Edwin Landseer has chosen to proceed toward the same purpose, upon a different principle. He has gone, without any introductory medium, directly to the living animals, and has exhibited the savage manners and habits of these quadrupeds, according to his own ideas and observations.

On the distinction between Character and Expression, we shall now deliver our opinion. By the Character of an animal, we mean those permanencies of his look and features which he always offers to view when in a placid, or unimpassioned state: by his Expression, the variations of muscular action superinduced on character, to which he is liable, as the storms of passion sweep by, and his mind becomes agitated by external circumstances acting on the ardours of his instinct.

The former, seems to hold its court in the solid and massy parts: the latter, agitates, ofttimes rebelliously, the nerves and muscles. Character is ever present, both in the animal countenance, and in the “human face divine.” The most violent expression does not proscribe, or obliterate, character. Individuality consists of it, as far as concerns external appearance; and it forms the system of vowels of the language of Nature, without which no Expression could be.

Whoever regards the faces of a flock of Sheep, will see in them an infinite variety of Character, with very little Expression, and that little without diversity: and if we descend a step lower in the scale of being, and contemplate the finny tribe, where Character is not wanting, we find no Expression at all. Even Trees and inanimate objects, possess Character. We recollect a poetical friend of ours, now in Italy, saying that every tree and every rock had a face—but of this we are not so certain; though very certain, that there is enough of Character in rocks and trees, to make a poet think so.

Character and Expression, in the carnivorous class of animals, to which we here solicit attention, are always co-existent—their proportions varying with the existing occasions—in pictorial exhibitions of such subjects.

No. II.

There is much Character, and little Expression, in the reposing Leopard with his sheathed claws, which is shewn in the present engraving, copied by Mr. Spilsbury from Ridinger, and corrected from Nature. Ridinger was an artist of great power, who studied wild animals in their sequestered haunts, as is shewn in his grand forest back-grounds; and who, generally speaking, left little or no room for others to improve, except on some few of his inferior works. The present is an interesting and beautiful animal, yet there is a latent capability of mischief characterised in his countenance, and we might ask, in the language of Job, “Who shall dare to rouse him up?”

Two Couchant Lions, after Rubens, taken from his celebrated picture before alluded to, of the Prophet Daniel incarcerated in the den. The Lions are here supposed to be miraculously held in a state of tranquillity. Here, too, is not much Expression, but an extraordinary grandeur of Character, suited to the greatness of an occasion where the Deity himself especially interferes to seal up the voracious energies of the most terrible of his creatures, in calm submission. There is a character of royal dignity mingled with this submission, which is very impressive, and even sublime.

The writer esteems this to be a successful restoration of the Nature that was wanting in the prints of this subject, (which has often been engraved by Picart and others,) after Rubens. The original picture it has been our ill-fortune never to have seen. The shaggy manes, and the latent terror that sits gloomily enthroned in the open eyes of the superior Lion—suited to the darkness of the den, and the nature of this animal’s sense of vision,—are as well thought of, as they are executed; and are varied with much address from the closed eyes of the couching Lion beyond, of which also the character is most happily marked. A powerful and divine spell possesses them both.

No. IV.

The Tiger which marches in our procession, without an object before him to call forth emotion, possesses a calm character, combined with the resistless strength of that dreadful quadruped; whose very tranquillity, in his leisure sauntering, when no excitement is acting on his nerves, has an appalling effect.—His brow is clouded, though his claws are sheathed. There is a possibility of a dreadful storm which may not be far distant, and that is enough to stamp the Tiger’s character. None shall dare to arouse his energies, nor to encounter them when aroused.

No. V.

This group of playful Leopards, after Rubens, must be supposed to belong to the jocund train of Bacchus, since they are luxuriating at their ease, among grapes and vine branches. These Leopards are doubtless intended to have a degree of playful expression—induced perhaps by the exhilarating juice of the grape: and we should “guess” (as Jonathan says) that this group was studied from a litter of half-grown kittens. Few, however, except the sailors who were accustomed to gambol with the Tiger-cub on board the Pitt East-Indiaman, would like to venture to frolic with them.

In this GROUP by Mr. Edwin Landseer there is much of violent animal Expression, and Character fades before it, or rather, is absorbed in it. It tells a story of the past as well as the present, and is pregnant with a catastrophe not difficult to anticipate from the actions and expressions of the parties engaged. A Fawn has been seized by a Leopard, who has been despoiled of his prey by a more powerful Tiger. The Tiger in his turn becomes the victim of an enraged Lion.

The expression of the wounded Leopard is that of painful suffering mingled with dread. Together, they amount to agony. He shrieks while he submits. The Tiger is still enraged and resisting, though astounded with the power and suddenness of the Lion’s attack. He is losing his energy of resistance, and is beginning to feel that all resistance is vain. He roars with anguish; while his expression is that of terror, and indignation not yet subdued.

The Lion, who has just made his thundering spring, appears conscious of having fatally seized his adversary, and luxuriates fearlessly in his victory; and with a powerful and just expression of carnivorous enjoyment.—Meanwhile the characters of the animals, severally, are faithfully and specifically represented.

Although our main purpose be to exhibit rather a pictorial than a physiological view of the subject: having descanted on the word Character, we shall probably be expected to add, at least a word or two, on the leading characteristics of the carnivorous class of quadrupeds.

The generic characters of the Feline, or Cat, kind, are easily enumerated in the concise language of the naturalists. Their heads are round; their visages short: they have six cutting teeth, and two canine, in either jaw: their tongues are aculeated, the prickles inclining backward; their claws sharp, hooked, and retractile; their ears small and acuminated; they have five toes on each of the fore-feet, and four only on those behind.

Of this genera of Cats, we here exhibit the four principal species, Lions, Tigers, Leopards, and Panthers, of which the Lion is justly placed at the head—at least, the unanimous voice of ages has pronounced him to be the king of beasts, and we have enthroned him accordingly in our Title-page, (No. I.) They form a tribe that is especially and properly Carnivorous, being the only class of quadrupeds that are exclusively flesh-eaters. Their jaws are very completely armed for this purpose; their canine teeth being very long and angular, with the edges of the angles turned toward the inside of their mouths; so that when the animal has caused them to meet, or cross each other in the flesh of its prey, these formidable teeth will cut or tear a way through, by drawing them back without opening his mouth.

Their claws, and the formation of their feet, too, are eminently conducive to their predacious and carnivorous habits. They walk on their toes: yet not so much from that habitual stealthiness of pace, by which they advance unperceived till within a spring of their prey; as because it is also the means of that celerity of motion which is necessary to the very existence of animals that can feed only on flesh.

Their claws are exceedingly powerful; and they are enabled to draw them up into sheaths between their toes, so as to prevent their points from touching the ground; whence they are called retractile; and those claws are, in consequence, always kept sharp, unworn, and ready for active service.

The eyes of the Feline tribe—of every face in nature a striking and important feature—vary in the different species, and are capable of much alteration in the same animal; as instinctive impulse, or internal emotion, changes the expression of his countenance; and also from the degrees of light which act upon their pupils. Of Lions the pupils of the eyes are circular, and not of a yellow colour, as has been stated in the most diffuse modern dissertations on the Carnivora, but black. It is the iris of the Lion’s eye that is yellow. They appear to be best suited to nocturnal, or twilight, vision; and hence the Lion rarely hunts his prey while the sun is above the horizon—perhaps never, but when pressed by hunger in an extraordinary degree. The Tiger, on the contrary, will seek his prey by day as well as by night; and during twilight the colour of his eyes is that of a blue-green flame. If a stranger passes near a Tiger in a menagerie, the colour of the animal’s eyes will sometimes alter suddenly, from yellow-green to blue-green; not from any alteration in the degree of light acting upon them, but from mental excitement, and from a certain natural facility of expansion and contraction of the eye-pupils.

Hence a characteristic difference between the Lion and the Tiger. The habits of the latter are diurnal, and he disregards night-fires: the Lion, on the contrary, whose eyes are not calculated for the glare of day, cannot bear to encounter fire-light at night. Yet these physical conformations are sometimes overcome by the rage of hunger; and hence, in Mr. Edwin Landseer’s contending group, the Lion is represented as attacking the Tiger although it be day.

Mr. Bell treats learnedly, and we believe with much originality, of the facial-muscles of this class of quadrupeds, in his “Anatomy of Expression.”—We shall offer a few extracts, by which the reader will perceive how limited are their powers of expression of countenance, when compared with those of human nature, notwithstanding their superiority over all other quadrupeds.

“The violent passions mark themselves so distinctly on the countenances both of men and of animals, that we are apt in the first instance to consider the movements by which they are indicated, as certain signs or characters provided by Nature, for the express purpose of intimating the internal emotion; and to suppose that they are interpreted by the observer in consequence of a peculiar and instinctive faculty. This view of things, however, so natural at first sight, is not altogether satisfactory to philosophy; and a more jealous observation of the facts, seems to suggest an opposite theory, in which instinctive agency is rejected, and the appearances are explained from a consideration of the necessities and voluntary exertions of the animal. With regard to the observer, it has been asserted, that it is by experience alone that he distinguishes the signs of the passions; that we learn, while infants, to consider smiles as expressions of kindness, because they are accompanied by acts of beneficence and by endearments; and frowns as the contrary, because we find them followed by blows; that the expression of anger in a brute, is only that which has been observed to precede his biting; and that of fondness, his fawning and licking of the hand. With regard to the creature itself, it is said, what has been called the external signs of passion, are merely the concomitants of those voluntary movements, which the passions or habits suggest; that the glare of the Lion’s eye, for example, is the consequence of a voluntary exertion to see his prey more clearly—his grin, or snarl, the natural motion of uncasing his fangs before he uses them. This, however, is not quite true of all animals and of all expression of passion.”

“Attending merely to the evidence furnished by anatomical investigation, all that I shall venture to affirm is this: that a remarkable difference is to be found between the anatomy and range of expression, in man and in animals: that in the former there seems to be a systematic provision for that mode of communication and that natural language, which is to be read in the changes of the countenance: that there is no emotion in the mind of man which has not its appropriate signs; and that there are even muscles in the human face to which no other use can be assigned than to serve as the organs of this language: that, on the other hand, there is in the lower animals no range of expression which is not fairly referable as a mere accessary to the voluntary or needful actions of the animal; and that this accessary expression does not appear to be in any degree commensurate to the variety and extent of the animal’s passions.”

“There appears to me (continues Mr. Bell) to be no expression in the face of any animal lower in the scale of being than quadrupeds; and in them the strongest and most marked expression is that of rage; the object of which is opposition, resistance, and defence. But on examination it will be found (consistently with the position, that this is merely an accessary of the motions natural to the accomplishment of the object which the animal has in view) that the strength of the expression is in exact proportion to the strength of the principal action in the creature when thus excited.

“The gramnivorous animals, which seek their subsistence, not by preying upon others, nor by the ferocity, contest, and victory which supply the carnivorous with food, have in their features no strong expression of rage. Their expression is chiefly confined indeed to the effect produced on the general system. Thus the inflamed eye and the breathing nostrils of the Bull, are induced only by the general excitement. His only proper expression of rage, is in the position of the head, with the horns turned obliquely to the ground, ready to strike: and indeed it may be observed in general that animals which strike with the horns, shew little indication of fear or rage, except in the position of the head. In all gramnivorous animals, the skin of the head is closely attached to the skull, and capable only of very limited motion: the eye is almost uniformly mild, and the lips unmoved by passion.

“It is in carnivorous animals, with whose habits and manner of life, ferocity is instinctively connected, as the great means of their subsistence, that rage is distinguished by the most remarkable strength of expression. The eye-ball is terrible, and the retraction of the flesh of the lips indicates the most savage fury. But the first, is merely the exerted attention of the animal; and the other a preparatory exposure of the canine teeth. The great animals of prey—the Lion and the Tiger—are quite incapable of any other expression of feature, than this particular display of ferociousness. When they fawn upon their keeper, there is no motion in their features that indicates affection.”

In this assertion, that the countenances of the great animals of prey are incapable of any other than ferocious expression, we do not quite coincide with our learned physiologist. When they fawn upon their keeper, we think that indications of affection are exhibited; and find ourselves ready to ask what else than kindly expression is that “licking of the hand” which our author has before mentioned. If, however, we should grant that they may not be capable of affectionate expression toward their keeper, we can scarcely doubt that—toward their young—if we could observe them in their wild state, and in their moments of playful intercourse and enjoyment among each other—they are: at least, we think there are motions in their features that indicate affection, as well as fear, enquiry, surprise, gratitude, pleasurable wantonness, and some other sentiments, or emotions. This is our conviction: at the same time, we perceive that the range of their ferocious expression far exceeds the savage circle of their domestic charities. Are not even the least of these observable in the habits and manners of the domestic Cat, who belongs to the Tiger genera? But we have even seen a Tiger in his den, who looked good-natured enough to be stroked and patted: and of the Lion, of whom Mr. Griffith relates the following anecdote, what can be said or thought?

“Hearing some noise under his cage, the Lion passed his paw between the bars, and actually hauled up his keeper who was cleaning beneath; but as soon as he perceived that he had thus ill used his master, he instantly lay down upon his back in an attitude of complete submission.”

Or what can be said of the circumstance mentioned by Seneca (of which he was personally witness), of a Lion, to whom a man, who had formerly been his keeper, was exposed for destruction in the amphitheatre at Rome; and who was not only instantly recognised, but defended and protected by the grateful beast?—Or of the story related by Dr. Southey, of the Lion who had broken loose, submitting to the Cid, and allowing himself to be led back peaceably to his place of confinement?

Could any painter of talent proceed to represent either of these facts, without finding in the countenance of the Lion, the muscles and the means of expressing a corresponding gentleness, or generosity, of feeling?

What could be said or thought of these things? Why it may be said, and will be thought, by all those who take both sides of the argument fairly into the question—that Mr. Bell has discovered and declared, that the muscles of affection, do not exist in the carnivora. Ergo, that the sentiment which we so translate or acknowledge—the appearances (that is) with which we may find ourselves affected—can only be expression of a negative kind; resulting from the relaxation of those muscles whose tension is necessary to the purposes, or the expression, of ferocity: that “the force of Nature can no further go;” and that the painter—the supposed painter, of such subjects, who is appealed to above—in order to be in any degree successful, must “make a third, by joining the former two”—that is to say, by mingling a portion of human nature with that of the animal: which brings us round to the practice and the probable theory of Rubens; of which it affords more justification, and of a higher kind, than superficial reasoners can be aware of.

But, when muscles of affection are mentioned, do we talk of a positive and acknowledged certainty; or only of a construction that has been put upon certain muscles of the face, by those who have an hypothesis to maintain, or who can trace affectionate expression in no other? And, are we thence to infer the exhaustion of the subject, and non-entity of the expression?

No. VII.

Mr. Spilsbury’s Lion, who has turned round his head to look at a Snake, affords a delineated example in point. Here is no more, we think, than the latent capability of ferocity: just so much as cannot be separated from the native character of this noble quadruped.—The eye-ball is here, not “terrible;” nor is “the most savage fury” indicated by the retraction of the lips, although the lower canine teeth are exposed. Here is a general sense of dignity; but the leading, present expression of the moment, (as it strikes us,) is that of curiosity, or excited attention; mingled with some degree of surprise that a contemptible little Snake should presume to roll his puny volumes in the royal presence. It would appear that the Lion has heard something hiss, and cares a little, to know what it may be.

Will it be further objected that this is Art?—To be sure it is. But we think that such Lion-looks are to be seen in Nature; and that such were seen, when the Dog which appealed to, and obtained, the royal pity, was first thrown into the Lion’s den at the Tower. We believe that this representation of the Lion and Snake is not taken from any old master, but is Mr. Spilsbury’s own design.

Neither is there any expression of ferocity, but of home comfort, in these two maneless Lions—or Lion and Lioness of Senegal. That which is asleep, however, rather illustrates our definition of Character, and is so far out of the question. The Lioness—who is awake, is a kind of Belle-Sauvage. Entirely without ferocity, she has some little expression of attention gently aroused by some slight cause—less important, we should think than the distant cry of a Chacal—a noise in the den, perhaps, not loud enough to make it worth while to wake her companion in order to see what’s the matter. But her expression of countenance, is almost as mild as that of a kitten in a chimney corner.—In fact, they seem—notwithstanding their Herculean strength—a kind of hearth-rug Lions.^[1]

After venturing to express this slight difference of opinion (if it amount to so much) with our distinguished anatomist of Expression, we return, with becoming respect, to his valuable Treatise: though as we do not propose to exhibit, like him, an anatomical and comparative view of the Carnivorous and Gramnivorous genera, we shall confine ourselves to a short extract or two, relating to the Carnivora alone—

“It is of man alone that we can with strict propriety say the countenance is an index of the mind, having expression corresponding with each emotion of the soul. Other animals have no expression but that which arises by mere accident, the concomitant of the emotions necessary to the accomplishment of the object of the passions.”—

“I have to remark, as relative to painting, (my original subject of enquiry) that this remarkable difference between the expression in man, and animals, naturally leads us to investigate what are the peculiarities of mere animal expression.

“In order to see distinctly what the peculiarities of mere animal expression are, it seems proper to reduce the muscles of expression in animals, to their proper classes. These muscles, as they appear in the several quadrupeds, may be distinguished into—1. Those which raise the lips from the teeth: 2. Those which surround the eye-lids: and 3. Those which move the nostrils.”

He next proceeds to state that “in the Carnivorous animal, the muscles of the lip are so directed as to raise the lip from the canine teeth;”—and these he distinguishes by the name of “Ringentes, or snarling muscles.”

The snarling muscles take their origin from the margin of the orbit of the eye, and from the upper jaw, and are inserted into that part of the upper lip from which the whiskers grow, and which is opposite to the canine teeth; and although they are assisted in this office by other muscles, (the masticating and zygomatic muscles,) I have ventured to distinguish them particularly as the muscles of snarling. This action of snarling is quite peculiar to the ferocious and carnivorous animals.

“2. Muscles which surround the eye-lid. In man the upper eye-lid is raised by a muscle coming from the bottom of the orbit. But, besides this muscle, animals of prey in whom there is that peculiar and ferocious splendour of the eye, which we distinguish in the Tiger, for example, or the Lion—have three muscles infixed in the eye-lids, which drawing the eye-lids backward upon the peculiarly prominent eye-ball, produce the fixed straining of the eye, and by stretching the coats, give a greater brilliancy to the reflection. These muscles may be classed under the term Scintillantes.

“3. The muscles of the nostril are not less distinct and peculiar, in different classes of animals, than those of the eyes and lips. In the Carnivorous animals, the nose is comparatively insignificant, provision being made in the open mouth for any occasional increase of respiration above the uniform play of the lungs.”

Taking respectful, friendly, and reluctant leave of Mr. Bell, we trust that conformity will be found between these pictorial remarks and anatomical elucidations of his, and our engraved representations of the Carnivora.

No. IX.

The interior of a rocky den, where the Lion dares to intrude on the retired repose of a Royal Tiger, copied by Mr. Spilsbury from the Sketch-book of Stubbs. On the part of the Tiger, there is expressed a certain half frantic suspension of purpose. His look is fierce, though apprehensive, and as if his mind was not made up whether to become the assailant, or stand on the defensive. He is evidently taken by surprise; and if he does not fear, he is thoroughly conscious (as Dr. Johnson said, when he was to meet Lord Thurlow) that “there is something to encounter:” while the Lion, feeling also that he has met with his match, is arousing his terrible energies. The heroes are threatening: the storm has gathered: and is about to burst in fury.

With regard to the “ferocious splendour of their eyes,” and the exposure of their canine teeth by means of the Ringentes, the reader will find here a strict accordance with Mr. Bell’s theory.

The Tigress of Bengal, which has been designed, as well as etched, by Mr. Thomas Landseer, from that at the Exeter ’Change Menagerie, affords also a pertinent illustration of the principles which Mr. Bell had derived from combining study with dissection: theory with practice. The “three muscles infixed in the eye-lids, which, drawing the eye-lids backward upon the peculiarly prominent eye-ball, produce the fixed straining of the eye, and by stretching the coats, give a greater brilliancy to the reflection,” are here brought into action by a violent and unexpected outrage done to the maternal feelings. Here too is exemplified the origin, insertion, and physical use, of those snarling muscles, which are so properly named and defined by our learned anatomist. We cannot but wish, however, that he had written also of those of the lower jaw, which so powerfully conduce to this snarling and dreadful expression.

The mother has arrived at a fortunate conjuncture for her cubs, which lie sleeping below, in a small den or dark recess of the bank, whither a Serpent has stolen. Twisted among the jungle, which affords an advantageous post both of attack and defence for the Serpent—the Tigress has reason to dread an enemy so powerful and insidious; and, as in the preceding Engraving, both parties are prepared for the encounter, and fully aware of the importance of a first blow.

No. XI.

These rampant Lions, bear the name of Rubens as their author. Sir John Sebright, we believe, has the original picture. It would neither deteriorate from its intrinsic merit as a work of art, nor from its nominal value (we suspect), should it turn out to be from the pencil of Snyders; or a performance of Rubens and Snyders in conjunction. They not unfrequently painted on the same canvas; but the high reputation and rank of Rubens, has in some measure absorbed that of his coadjutor, except among first-rate connoisseurs—whereas, in all that relates to the details of Nature, Snyders was the superior painter of animals: and our reasons for thinking that he had at least a hand in this picture of the rampant Lions, are, 1st, The superior attention which is here paid to the details of Nature. 2ndly, That the action of the nearest of the two Lions, is precisely that of the same animal, in Snyders’ very capital picture from the fable of the Lion liberated by the Mouse, now in the Cabinet of Thomas Franklin, Esq. 3rdly, That the study in oil of a dead Lion, in the collection of G. Watson Taylor, Esq. also believed to be from the hand of Snyders, bears internal evidence of being painted, not only from Nature, but from the very same individual Lion, with the above. They are all portraits of the same animal. It appears as if Snyders, having obtained possession of a dead Lion, after making the study now belonging to Mr. Taylor, had put him in this rampant attitude, and painted from him as long as he lasted. But perhaps Rubens and Snyders did this in concert: for on the other hand may be recollected a masterly sketch in oil of the heads only of these rampant Lions, which was exhibited at the British Gallery two seasons ago, bearing the name of Rubens. If this name was written by Rubens himself, the probability is as above stated, that both artists painted at the same time from the same model. On this point we do but sum up such evidence as is before us, leaving the verdict to the reader.

11
E. Spilsbury del^t. T. Landseer sculp^t.
Lions after Rubens.