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Updated: May 6, 2025
He was a gigantic man, and presented a strange spectacle as he strode swiftly across the country with the long, sliding gait of a practised snowshoer. Although his wide-set blue eyes were frank and gentle in expression, a heavy mass of blonde hair, streaming over his shoulders like a mane, and a shaggy beard, gave him an air of lion-like ferocity.
Of poor Lally, zealous and furious over-much, and nearly the most unfortunate and worst-used "man of genius" I ever read of, whose lion-like struggles against French Official people, and against Pitt's Captains and their sea-fights and siegings, would deserve a volume to themselves, we have said, and can here say, as good as nothing, except that they all ended, for Lally and French India, in total surrender, 16th January, 1761; and that Lally, some years afterwards, for toils undergone and for services done, got, when accounts came to be liquidated, death on the scaffold.
I may not do it in the best way always, but I do it as well as I know how." Here his tone grew severely earnest and savage again, as he added: "But I shall defend the honor of my wife with my life." His voice and pose were magnificent lion-like. His manner changed again with dramatic suddenness. He took the whole street into his confidence. "I love my wife, gentlemen.
"I thought it best to spare you any possible embarrassment by saying that the man is not entirely unknown to you." "May I ask his name?" "Robert Nolan." The strong, lion-like face flushed under its tan, then quickly lit up with a smile. "I thank you. Captain Nolan will not suffer at my hands."
The door opened and old Deleglise entered, accompanied by a small, slight man with red hair and beard and somewhat watery eyes. Deleglise himself was a handsome old fellow, then a man of about fifty-five. His massive, mobile face, illuminated by bright, restless eyes, was crowned with a lion-like mane of iron-grey hair. Till a few years ago he had been a painter of considerable note.
Christopher North thus further expressed his admiration then of the young English Novelist "How kind and good a man he is," the great Critic exclaimed, laying aside for a while the crutch with which he had so often, in the Ambrosian Nights, brained many an arrant pretender to the title of genius or of philanthropist, and turning his lion-like eyes, at the moment beaming only with cordiality, on the then youthful face of Dickens, "How kind and good a man he is I need not say, nor what strength of genius he has acquired by that profound sympathy with his fellow-creatures, whether in prosperity and happiness, or overwhelmed with unfortunate circumstances."
And now, to him who maintains that it is profitable for the human creature to be unjust, and unprofitable to be just, let us reply that, if he be right, it is profitable for this creature to feast the multitudinous monster and strengthen the lion and the lion-like qualities, but to starve and weaken the man, who is consequently liable to be dragged about at the mercy of either of the other two; and he is not to attempt to familiarize or harmonize them with one another he ought rather to suffer them to fight and bite and devour one another.
Immediately after that, an old, white-headed warrior, bent nearly double with infirmity and years, came forward and acted as Wapoota had done. Then, turning to the people, he addressed them in a weak, trembling voice. There was a great silence, for this was the patriarch of the tribe; had been a lion-like man in his youth, and was greatly respected. "I join the Christians," he said, slowly.
Then the four winds smote it and away it floated, torn to rags, and there appeared beneath it cavaliers, with helms black and garb white and many a princely knight and lances that bite and swords that smite and footmen who lion-like knew no affright Seeing this, both armies left fighting and sent out scouts to reconnoitre and report who thus had come in main and might.
Through many faces, which at the moment seemed to be floating against black and leering at her, she had the sense of moving without the action of her muscles.... She saw the lion-like mane of her father's head and the ecstasy of his eyes and a voice in her but not of her whispered: "Well, I hope you're satisfied."... She was conscious of the heavy scent of flowers which reminded her of a funeral.... One face stood out distinct and seemed to be boring into her, reading secrets which, she felt through a great dizziness, she ought not to let him fathom.
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