JUMBO (See Plate VII.).
Many elephants have become famous in ancient and modern times,—some by
their deeds in war (for their courage and daring), others for their
domestic virtues and intelligence. But Jumbo, whose fame extended to all
civilized nations, was noted for his great size, and for the hue and
cry raised over his departure from their country by the English people;
and it is safe to say that no animal ever rose to quite such a lofty
pinnacle of popularity. Probably not a boy or girl who visited the huge
animal when alive, but ever after took an interest in his career, and
sincerely regretted his untimely end. Jumbo was a prince among elephants,
a magnificent example of the possibilities of animal life, and a type
of a race that is slowly but surely passing away. Jumbo’s early infancy
was undoubtedly spent in the wilds of Central Africa. In 1861, when he
was about four feet high, an elephantine toddler, Sir Samuel Baker saw
him in the possession of some Hamran Arabs, who were taking him down
the Settite River for delivery to a collector named Johann Schmidt. The
latter sold him to the Jardin des Plantes; and Mr. W. B. Tegetmier says,
“I saw him the day after his arrival in the Gardens, and went into his
den with Mr. Bartlett. He was then about four feet high; and the keeper,
holding a long-handled broom in the usual manner, was scrubbing his
back, which was far below him.” This was in 1865: so that when he died,
Jumbo was presumably about twenty-six years old, hardly in his prime;
and I learn from Professor Ward, who mounted the skeleton, that he had
not ceased growing. From 1865 to 1882 Jumbo lived in the Gardens of the
London Zoölogical Society, pampered, fed, and petted by old and young;
daily being marched upon the green with a load of children upon his back;
and though, as Sir Samuel Baker says, he was not designed by nature as a
perambulator, still the great animal was eminently successful as one.
[Illustration: PLATE VI.
THE DINOTHERIUM. (_An extinct Elephant-like Creature._)
_Page 62._]
Whether founded on fact, it is difficult to say, but rumors became
current, that Jumbo had given evidence of dangerous outbursts of temper;
and the keepers were afraid, so the report went, that possibly some one
would be hurt. At this opportune juncture, Mr. Barnum, through an agent,
offered the Zoölogical Society the sum of ten thousand dollars for Jumbo,
which was immediately accepted; and, before the astonished public were
hardly aware of what had occurred, the papers were signed that placed
Jumbo in American hands. When this fact became known, there rose a clamor
and protest from all classes. The excitement grew daily, added to by the
comments of the German, English, and French press, until the question
of Jumbo was the all-absorbing topic of the day. “The New-York Herald”
said, “It seems a sad thought that a war between England and America
is imminent, and may break out at any moment, and that no intervention
will be able to stay the angry passions of two nations which ought to
live in undisturbed harmony. The cause of this possible outbreak is
the thoughtless sale of Jumbo, the pet elephant. Mr. Barnum vows that
he will exhibit the giant to fifty millions of free Americans at fifty
cents apiece. It seems a pity to rupture the amicable relations that
have so long existed between us and our neighbors, but we must have that
elephant.”
Mr. Labouchere mentioned the matter in a humorous way in Parliament; and
“The London Standard” pathetically remarked, “When a Southern slave-owner
put in force his legal right of separating a family at the auction-block,
the world rang with anathemas against the inhumanity of the deed. Surely,
to tear this aged brute from a home to which he is attached, and from
associates who have so markedly displayed their affection for him, is
scarcely less cruel.” Mr. Lowell, our minister at the time, is said to
have observed, that the only burning question between the countries was
Jumbo.
Thousands now flocked to the Garden to see the now famous elephant, that
evidently had a strong hold upon their affections; subscriptions were
started, to buy him back at any price; and the directors of the Garden
were the butt of a vast amount of abuse.
Finally the editor of “The London Daily Telegraph” sent the following
cablegram to Mr. Barnum:—
P. T. BARNUM, NEW YORK.—Editor’s compliments. All British
children distressed at elephant’s departure. Hundreds of
correspondents beg us to inquire on what terms you will kindly
return Jumbo. Answer prepaid, unlimited.
LESARGE.
And back went this eminently characteristic reply from the great American
showman:—
My compliments to editor “Daily Telegraph” and British nation.
Fifty millions of American citizens anxiously awaiting Jumbo’s
arrival. My forty years invariable practice of exhibiting
best that money could procure, makes Jumbo’s presence here
imperative. Hundred thousand pounds would be no inducement to
cancel the purchase....
In December next I visit Australia in person with Jumbo and my
entire mammoth combination of seven shows, _via_ California,
thence through Suez Canal. Following summer to London. I shall
then exhibit in every prominent city in Great Britain. May
afterwards return Jumbo to his old position in Royal Zoölogical
Gardens. Wishing long life and prosperity to the British
nation, “The Daily Telegraph,” and Jumbo, I am the public’s
obedient servant,
P. T. BARNUM.
To this answer, the “Telegraph” referred in the following editorial:—
“Jumbo’s fate is sealed. The disappointing answer from his new American
proprietor, which we published yesterday, proves too clearly that there
is nothing to expect from delicacy or remorse in that quarter. Moved
by the universal emotion which the approaching departure of London’s
gigantic friend had aroused, we communicated with Mr. Barnum, indicating
that ‘money was no object’ if he would only listen to the entreaties of
the English children, and let the Royal Zoölogical Council off their
foolish bargain. The famous showman replied—as all the world now knows—in
tones of polite but implacable decision. He has bought Jumbo, and Jumbo
he means to have; nor would ‘a hundred thousand pounds’ be any inducement
to cancel the purchase. If innumerable childish hearts are grieving
here over the loss of a creature so gentle, vast, and sensible, ‘fifty
millions of American citizens,’ Mr. Barnum says, are anxiously waiting
to see the great elephant arrive in the States. Then, to increase the
general regret, the message depicts the sort of life which poor Jumbo
has before him. No more quiet garden-strolls, no shady trees, green
lawns, and flowery thickets, peopled with tropical beasts, bright birds,
and snakes, making it all quite homely. Our amiable monster must dwell
in a tent, take part in the routine of a circus. Mr. Barnum announces
the intention of taking his ‘mammoth combination of seven shows’ round
the world, _via_ California, Australia, and the Suez Canal. Elephants
hate the sea. They love a quiet bath as much as any Christians; but the
indignity and terror of being slung on board a ship, and tossed about in
the agony of sea-sickness, which is probably on a scale with the size
of their stomachs, would appear to them worse than death. Yet to this
doom the children’s ‘dear old Jumbo’ is condemned; and it is enough, if
he knew of it, to precipitate that insanity which his guardians have
pretended to fear. It is true Mr. Barnum holds out hopes that we may some
day see again the colossal form of the public favorite. In the summer of
1883 he proposes to bring the good beast back to England, exhibiting him
in ‘every prominent city;’ and the message adds, ‘I may afterwards return
Jumbo to his old position in the Royal Zoölogical Gardens.’ There is a
gleam of consolation in this, which we would not darken by any remarks
upon the great showman’s ironclad inflexibility; but what will be the
mental and physical condition of our immense friend when bereavement,
sea-sickness, and American diet shall have ruined his temper and
digestion, and abolished his self-respect? There will be a Yankee twang
in his trumpeting; he will roll about on his ‘sea-legs,’ with a gait
sadly changed from the substantial swing so well known; and Alice herself
will hardly know him.
“We fear, however, that Jumbo will never come back to her and us alive.
His mighty heart will probably break with rage, shame, and grief; and
we may hear of him, like another Samson, playing the mischief with the
Philistines who have led him into captivity, and dying amid some scene of
terrible wrath and ruin. We hope Mr. Barnum fully realizes what ten tons
and a half of solid fury can do when it has a mind.”
The young folks, who were the greatest losers by the sale of Jumbo,
were not silent; and their attempts to move Mr. Barnum are shown in the
following letters:—
9 DINGLE HILL, LIVERPOOL, March 7.
DEAR MR. BARNUM,—Please do not take Jumbo to America, I think
it will be cruel if you do take him when he begs so hard not to
be taken. There are plenty of other elephants—will not one of
them do for you instead?—one that does not mind going. If you
will only let Jumbo stay, I am sure the English children will
thank you; and I do not think the people in America can be so
cruel as to wish to have him when it makes him so unhappy to
leave England.
GERTRUDE COX.
* * * * *
TURNBRIDGE WELLS, KENT.
P. T. BARNUM.
_Dear Sir_,—You would receive the deepest and most grateful
thanks of the whole of the British nation, if you would only
forego your bargain about poor, dear Jumbo. You are so well
known as the greatest showman in the world, do be known
now as the most generous-minded man. I have always found
American gentlemen to be every thing that was good, kind, and
chivalrous; and I hope you will show yourself a king among
them. We are all so attached to Jumbo, and he to his home, that
it would be really cruel to move him. He deserves to remain,
I’m sure, for his fidelity to all his surroundings, and his
good temper under all his present trials. I know the American
mind is so large, that I have quite expected each day to see in
the papers that you would let Jumbo remain in his old home. In
fact, I have all along thought it one of your jokes. Praying
that you may change your mind, and that this letter may arrive
in time to assist to that end, I remain,
ONE OF JUMBO’S SINCERE FRIENDS.
P. S.—I am sure you will never regret leaving Jumbo in peace.
* * * * *
MR. BARNUM,—I write in behalf of our dear old Jumbo. Do be kind
and generous to our English boys and girls. We do so love him!
and I am sure if you have children or little friends of your
own, you will be able to understand how their hearts would
ache, and their tears be shed, should they lose the friend
who has given them such delight, and who is one of their few
pleasures in this great and sorrowful city. We all know from
older and cleverer heads, that by rights Jumbo is yours, as you
have paid the money for him; but, dear Mr. Barnum, you who have
so many famous animals, and, among them, so many elephants,
surely will think seriously and kindly before you take from
us our very dear friend Jumbo. About the money for damages—I
am sure all our parents in this city, who love their little
ones so much, will willingly help to give you back your money,
with an extra sum to make up for any expense you may have had
concerning him. Do let the kindest side of your nature prevail.
Think over the many hearts among us nearly breaking, and ready
to do any thing to implore you to give us back Jumbo. If only
you are generous to us in this, you will not lose by it, either
in this world or the next. I am nearly sure if Jumbo does go,
he will die when he reaches you, for he has clearly shown his
great reluctance to leave us; and the voyage, and every thing
taken together, will have an ill effect on him; that it will
be but a poor Jumbo that will appear before you, even if a
worse thing does not happen, and the grief at leaving his old
friends, and such new experiences, does not turn him mad.
I think,—indeed I do not think, I am sure,—that if Jumbo had
been our purchase from you, and letters had been sent to us,
telling of the sorrow of American children at parting with
an old favorite, every English girl and boy, man and woman,
would have said with one voice, that the purchase-money should
be given back, and the animal left to delight the children
across the Atlantic. I am sure the wish of possessing the
finest animal would not have crushed our manly and womanly
feelings—and those of all true men and women are generously in
sympathy with the cry of children in distress.
You say that perhaps Jumbo will return to us after you have
exhibited him. I am afraid he will not be alive to come, or,
if he is, all his trust in his old friends and keepers will be
soured, and he will not seem like the old friend he now is.
You may think it a waste of time for a young girl to write to
you, when older and wiser heads have failed; but I must tell
you of the thousands of children to whom the parting from Jumbo
will be a terrible grief. Be to us the generous-hearted man you
are believed to be, and give us back our Jumbo.
I remain, yours truly,
A YOUNG ENGLISH GIRL.
The ninety pupils of a school in the Edgeware road memorialized the
secretary of the London Zoo, who replied to them thus:—
ZOÖLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON, 11 HANOVER SQUARE, W.,
March 2, 1882.
DEAR FRIENDS,—Your petition has been duly received, but I fear
we shall not be able to assent to your request. We must ask you
to believe that our experienced superintendent knows better
what elephants are suitable to be kept in the Society’s Gardens
than you do. There are still three elephants left in the
gardens, upon which we hope you will have many rides in future.
Yours faithfully,
P. S. SCLATER, _Secretary to the Society_.
_To MISS E. V. NICHOLS and her companions._
These appeals,—selected from the hundreds of such,—of course, had no
effect upon Mr. Barnum; and in the mean time preparations had been
going on to ship the giant. A huge box was constructed, six feet eight
inches in width, and thirteen feet high, bound with heavy bands of
three-fourths inch iron, weighing in all six tons. Feb. 18, 1882, was
selected as the day for the start. To prevent any trouble, Jumbo was
heavily chained by his feet; and, after a struggle to break his bonds,
he was led toward the box that was to convey him to the steamer. But
elephants are naturally suspicious, and Jumbo was no exception to the
rule. Bracing back, he flatly refused to enter; and the attempt was then
given up. The next day, another trial was made, with like success; then
it was proposed to walk the great animal to the steamer, with the hope
that, after the long tramp, he would enter the box readily. Accordingly,
the gates were thrown open, and Jumbo marched out; and “then,” says
“The London Telegraph,” “came one of the most pathetic scenes in which
a dumb animal was ever the chief actor. The poor brute moaned sadly,
and appealed in all but human words to Scott, his keeper, embracing the
man with its trunk, and actually kneeling before him.” In short, Jumbo
refused to go, and was again returned to his house; and then the storm
of public resentment broke out with renewed fury. The actions of the
elephant were contorted into every possible meaning: his simplest acts
and movements were given a significance which in all probability they
did not have, and the press urged that some action be taken to prevent
what was considered an outrage. A prominent clergyman wrote, “I trust the
people of London will rise as one man, to prevent this cruel, inhuman
bargain being carried out. Are there not walls in England strong enough
to hold Jumbo, that we must send him away?”
[Illustration: PLATE VII.
AFRICAN ELEPHANT, JUMBO.
_Pages 66-70._]
Every legal obstacle was thrown in the way of the Americans. The
authorities objected to the elephant being led through the streets;
and, according to Mr. Barnum, the superintendent of the Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals never left the Garden until Jumbo did,
awaiting an opportunity, according to the Americans, to use his authority
in favor of public sentiment. As a last resort, an interim injunction
was sworn out before Justice Chilly, restraining the Council of the
Zoölogical Society from allowing Jumbo to be removed. But finally it was
seen that Jumbo had been purchased fairly; and in the last of March the
great elephant was coaxed into its box, and was ultimately hoisted aboard
the steamer “Assyrian Monarch,” and shipped to New York, where he was
hauled up Broadway in triumph by sixteen horses and a large crowd who
dragged upon ropes attached to the wheeled box for the purpose; and from
that time to his death became the object of great attention.
One never tired looking at this stupendous animal. His enormous size,
the pillar-like legs,—columns of support rather than for locomotion,—his
stately movements, the pendulum-like swinging of his huge trunk, all
impressed the observer that Jumbo was indeed the king among all animals,
and the most remarkable one ever seen upon this continent.
Jumbo continued with the Barnum circus until Sept. 13, 1885, when he met
an untimely death in St. Thomas, Canada. The final performance of the
circus had been given; and Jumbo and the trick elephant Tom were marching
over the track to reach their cars, guided by Scott, the former’s
trainer, when a heavy freight-train came rushing along from the east. The
headlight was not seen until the train was within five hundred yards of
the animals, and was not expected, as the railroad officials had assured
the men that a train was not due for an hour. Signals were given as soon
as possible, and the brakes were put on; while the elephants fled up the
track, led by Scott, who stood by them to the last: but the heavy train
could not be stopped, being on a down grade; and with a thundering roar
it came on, striking the clown elephant, and hurling him into a ditch,
then crashing into the ponderous Jumbo, the contact stopping the train,
and derailing the engine and two cars.
The unfortunate Jumbo was struck in the hind-legs; and it is said, as he
felt the cow-catcher, he gave a loud roar, turned and fell; the first
car passing along his back, and inflicting wounds from which he died in
fifteen minutes.
Jumbo’s measurements after death were found to be as follows:
circumference of the fore-arm, five feet six inches; height, about eleven
feet two inches; length of trunk, seven feet four inches; around the
tusk, one foot three and a half inches; length of fore-leg, six feet.
Mr. Barnum presented the skeleton to the National Museum, and the skin
to Tufts College, of Massachusetts, where they will ultimately go. The
two gifts were mounted by Professor Ward of Rochester, probably the most
stupendous piece of taxidermy ever attempted in any country; and, as
such, it may be of interest to know something of the methods employed.
Professor Ward thus describes his work in a letter to Mr. Barnum: ...
“Fortunately, we had one good life-photograph, also many measurements
of his body, taken after the sad accident in Canada. The mounting was a
matter involving such formidable conditions of weight and size, that no
ordinary base would serve to support him. His pedestal was first built
of heavy oak beams, the crossbars on which he stands being six by nine
inches in thickness. In these were planted eight great standards of
two-inch iron,—two of them to go through each leg,—which were bolted
above into equally heavy cross-beams, which held them together, and
strengthened the whole. Other beams ran lengthwise of the body, placed
straight, obliquely, diagonally, and in every direction calculated to
strengthen and stiffen, and all bound together with rods and bars and
bolts. One great beam, reaching from rear part through the body to centre
of his forehead, is calculated to sustain fully a ton’s weight, if at any
time his great head should need such support. The outlines of his body
and legs are then obtained by properly fastening pieces of thick plank
on edge, and cutting them to form required. The further final contour
of the body is secured by covering these timbers with wooden coating
two inches thick, and all built up, cut and chiselled to the exact form
desired in every part. Thus was gradually built up an elephant of almost
solid wood, of Jumbo’s exact size and form. To this was applied his vast
skin, weighing over three-quarters of a ton, and the same nailed and
screwed in place over the entire surface and along the seams. There was
no intermediate filling, and his skin now fits his wooden body in every
part as closely as does the bark on a tree.”
In mounting the skeleton, Professor Ward made some interesting
observations, and was able to compare Jumbo’s frame with that of a
full-grown mastodon which was being mounted at the same time. That Jumbo
was quite a young animal, was determined from an examination of his teeth
and bones; and, gigantic as he was, he might have attained much larger
dimensions.
To take Jumbo’s place, Mr. Barnum has purchased Alice, the large African
elephant of the London Zoölogical Garden, who, according to Tegetmier,
“is not of an amiable temper.” Alice is an African elephant, perfect
with the exception of the tip end of her trunk, which was torn off
some years ago. She is about the age of the late Jumbo, and will also
find a resting-place, when her term has run, in some of the American
institutions of science.