THE ZooLocist—SePrEeMBER, 1872. 3201 
man, who is standing before them with his arms pinioned, helpless 
yet fearless; an authority that permeates their muscles, their 
limbs, their claws, their very eyes; truly the lions are conscious of 
the authority, but not cognizant of its source; they are perfectly 
aware that they must not injure that defenceless old man, that they 
must not touch a hair of his head; but they know not why they 
must not. One lioness—young, ignorant, and ill-mannered—spits 
at him, after the fashion of an angry kitten: this is the only 
symptom of resistance or disobedience, and is so manifestly an 
ebullition of impotent rage, that the action enhances rather than 
detracts from the utter subjection of her more aged and more 
powerful companions in captivity. There are two older lionesses,— 
lank, lean, hungry savages: one slinks and crouches, and crawls 
almost on her belly, slowly dragging her limbs with a famished, 
stealthy, sulky gait; the other tries to hide her head, and 
especially her eyes, as if ashamed of her abject condition, as if her 
punishment were “ greater than she could bear.” There are also 
two principal and larger lions, and these exhibit more dignity 
than the lionesses, under the trying circumstances in which they 
are placed: they feel the restraint fully as much as the lionesses, 
but are more reticent of their feelings,—not so restless, so 
irritated ; they submit with a better grace, with more self-respect; 
they do not condescend to express the same rankling annoyance. 
" The smaller of the two—he on the right hand—seems performing 
something like an act of worship,—a bending of the knee, while 
the larger and more powerful beast on the left is mute with 
astonishment, overwhelmed with wonder ; there is an entire absence 
of all disturbing influence on that majestic face: no fear, no anger, 
no desire for revenge, no hunger, no thirst for blood; the only 
emotion is astonishment; he is as one caught in an invisible net; 
he cannot make it out. 
What shall I say of Daniel himself? The painter has repre- 
sented him with his back to the spectator, so that his face is not 
visible. No one will imagine that a painter, who has ventured to 
depict the faces of beasts under such unwonted conditions, and who 
has succeeded to a miracle, would shrink from trying his hand on 
the face of aman. But to what purpose would he have done so? 
Certainly not to illustrate the subject; certainly not to add force 
to his design: no expression that human skill could have given to 
Daniel’s countenance would have told the tale half so well as it is 
