The lion claims our first regard, since he has, by the naturalists, poets, moralists, fable-writers, been unanimously crowned the King of Beasts, and has been duly accredited with every royal virtue, such as magnanimity, courage, generosity; while in art he has always taken the same exalted position, crowning the gates of Mycenæ, flanking the entrances of the palaces of Nineveh, enhancing the dignity of the Pharaohs, guarding the steps of the throne of Solomon, typifying in the lion of Lucerne undaunted bravery, and around the column of Nelson in Trafalgar Square, or on the Royal Standard of England, symbolising all that Britons associate with the grandeur and might of their country. The lion alone of all wild beasts, we are told, is gentle to those that humble themselves to him, and even when his wrath is awakened, and the pangs of hunger call for relief, his chivalrous nature is such that he will not attack a woman without the greatest provocation or necessity. Another interesting fact that the ancient writers ascertained is that the blood of the lion is black. That he is not in any derogatory sense black-hearted, is one of the most heartily accepted articles of belief since the magnanimity of the lion is the trait in his character that is most fully dwelt upon. There have, nevertheless, arisen unbelievers in these latter days who have endeavoured to belittle the royal beast, and to make out that he is, after all, not much better than a sneaking coward, that his courage springs from a knowledge of his superior power, and that his forbearance and generosity are but indications that the creature at the time he displayed these estimable qualities had lately dined. Even in the following passage from an early writer we get some little hint of this feeling: “He despiseth the darts and defendeth himself by his terror only, and, as if bearing witness that he is forced to his own defence, he riseth up in fury, not as at last compelled by the peril, but is made angry by their folly. But this more noble display of courage is shown in that, however great may be the strength of hounds and hunters, while in the open plains, and where he may be seen, he retireth only by degrees, and with scorn; but when he hath got amongst the thickets and woods, then he hurrieth away, as if the place concealed his shame.” Perhaps, however, we should assign this strategic movement to the rear to the discretion that we are proverbially told is such an excellent supplement to mere valour, or a wise acquiescence in the dictum: “He that fights and runs away will live to fight another day.”[34] The ideal lion, however, is a very noble beast indeed, and very few of the early writers do aught but sing his praises.