An elephant, rendered furious by the wounds he had received in an engagement at Hambour, rushed into the plain uttering the most hideous cries. A soldier, whose comrades made him sensible of his danger by calling to him, was unable on account of his wounds, to retreat with sufficient expedition out of the way of the enraged animal. But the elephant, when he came to him, seemed to be apprehensive lest he should trample him with his feet, raised him with his trunk, and having laid him gently on one side, continued his progress.
At Mahie, on the coast of Malabar, the owner of an elephant lent him out for hire. His occupation consisted in drawing timber for building out of a river, which he performed very dexterously with his trunk, under the guidance of a boy. He then piled the beams upon each other with such regularity, that no human being could have done it better.
Elephants do not merely obey the commands of their keeper while he is present, but they perform also in his absence the most singular operations when they have previously been made acquainted with the nature of them. I once saw, says M. d’Obsonville, two elephants employed in demolishing a wall, in obedience to the orders previously received from their cornacks, who had encouraged them to undertake the task by a promise of fruit and brandy. They united their powers, placed their trunks together, which were defended by a covering of leather, and pushed with them against the strongest part of the wall; repeated their efforts, carefully watching at the same time the effect of the equilibrium, which they followed till the whole was sufficiently loose, when they exerted their whole strength in one more push, after which they speedily retreated out of the reach of danger, and the whole wall fell to the ground.
Bosmann relates, that in December, 1700, an elephant came at six o’clock in the morning towards Fort Mina, on the Gold Coast, and took his road along the river at the foot of Mount St. Jago. Some of the negroes ran unarmed about him, which he permitted without appearing to be in the least degree suspicious of them. But a Dutch officer shot at him, and wounded him over his eye. The animal did not alter his course, but pricking his ears, proceeded to the Dutch garden, where he saw the director-general and other officers belonging to the fort, sitting under the shade of some palm-trees. He had torn down about a dozen of these trees with the greatest facility, when upwards of an hundred bullets were discharged at him. He bled over his whole body, but still kept his legs, and did not halt in the least. A negro now, to plague the elephant, pulled him by the tail, at which the animal, being provoked, seized him with his trunk, threw him to the ground, and thrust his tusks twice through his body. As soon as the negro was killed, he turned from him, and suffered the other negroes to take away his body unmolested. He now remained upwards of an hour longer in the garden, and seemed to have directed his attention to the Dutchmen who were sitting at a distance of fifteen or sixteen paces from him. As these had expended their ammunition, and feared that the elephant might attack them, they made their retreat. In the mean time the elephant was come to another gate, and although the garden-wall consisted of a double row of stones, he easily threw it down, and went out by the breach. He then walked slowly to a rivulet, and washed off the blood with which he was covered: after that he returned to the palm-trees, and broke some boards that were placed there for the purpose of building a vessel. The Dutchmen had in the mean time procured a fresh supply of powder and ball, and their repeated shots at length put the elephant out of condition to make further resistance. They then with great difficulty cut off his trunk, upon which the elephant, who till then had not uttered a sound, set up a hideous roar, threw himself down under a tree, and expired.
The elephant is not an enemy to any other animal. It is said that the mouse is the only quadruped that is an enemy to him, and that this little quadruped holds him in perpetual fear. He sleeps with the end of his proboscis so close to the earth, that nothing but the air he breathes can get between; for the mouse is affirmed to enter its orifice, when he finds it possible, and, making his way to the elephant’s vital parts in search of food or shelter, by that means destroys the mighty tenement wherein his own littleness is ensconced.
The great dean of St. Paul’s, if he may be so called without disparagement to Colet, has two noble stanzas on this subject on “The Progress of the Soul.” They were read to the editor of theEvery-Day Book, by one of the kindest of human beings, himself a poet, from his own copy of the book wherein the hand of a friend, the greatest living poet, and perhaps the greatest mind of our country hath penned, that “Donne’s rhythm was as inexplicable to the many as blank verse, spite of his rhymes.—Not one in a thousand of his readers have any notion how his lines are to be read. To read Dryden, Pope, &c. you need only count syllables; but to read Donne you must measuretime, and discover thetimeof each word by the sense and passion.” Having presumed on the wonted indulgence of friendship, by this transcription from the manuscript notes of a borrowed volume, for counsel and caution in the present reader’s behalf, the verses are submitted to his regard.
Natures great master-piece, an Elephant,The onely harmelesse great thing; the giantOf beasts; who thought none had, to make him wise,But to be just, and thankful, loth t’ offend(Yet nature hath given him no knees to bend)Himself he up-props, on himself relies,And foe to none; suspects no enemies,Still sleeping stood; vext not his fantasieBlack dreams, like an unbent bow carelesslyHis sinewy Proboscis did remisly lie.In which as in a gallery this mouseWalk’d and survey’d the rooms of this vast house,And to the brain, the soul’s bed chamber, went,And gnaw’d the life cords there; Like a whole townClean undermin’d the slain beast tumbled down;With him the murth’rer dies, whom envy sentTo kill, not scape; for onely he that meantTo die, did ever kill a man of better roome;And thus he made his foe, his prey and tombe:Who cares not to turn back, may any whither come.Donne.
Natures great master-piece, an Elephant,The onely harmelesse great thing; the giantOf beasts; who thought none had, to make him wise,But to be just, and thankful, loth t’ offend(Yet nature hath given him no knees to bend)Himself he up-props, on himself relies,And foe to none; suspects no enemies,Still sleeping stood; vext not his fantasieBlack dreams, like an unbent bow carelesslyHis sinewy Proboscis did remisly lie.In which as in a gallery this mouseWalk’d and survey’d the rooms of this vast house,And to the brain, the soul’s bed chamber, went,And gnaw’d the life cords there; Like a whole townClean undermin’d the slain beast tumbled down;With him the murth’rer dies, whom envy sentTo kill, not scape; for onely he that meantTo die, did ever kill a man of better roome;And thus he made his foe, his prey and tombe:Who cares not to turn back, may any whither come.
Natures great master-piece, an Elephant,The onely harmelesse great thing; the giantOf beasts; who thought none had, to make him wise,But to be just, and thankful, loth t’ offend(Yet nature hath given him no knees to bend)Himself he up-props, on himself relies,And foe to none; suspects no enemies,Still sleeping stood; vext not his fantasieBlack dreams, like an unbent bow carelesslyHis sinewy Proboscis did remisly lie.
In which as in a gallery this mouseWalk’d and survey’d the rooms of this vast house,And to the brain, the soul’s bed chamber, went,And gnaw’d the life cords there; Like a whole townClean undermin’d the slain beast tumbled down;With him the murth’rer dies, whom envy sentTo kill, not scape; for onely he that meantTo die, did ever kill a man of better roome;And thus he made his foe, his prey and tombe:Who cares not to turn back, may any whither come.
Donne.
The “elephant,” according to Randle Holme, is regarded, in heraldry, as “the emblem of vigilance,nec jacet in somno; but, like a faithful watchman, sleeps in a sentinel’s posture; it denoteth strength, ingenuity, and ambition of people’s praise; it signifieth also meekness and devotion.” He mentions an elephantargenton a shieldgules, that “this coat is born by the name of Elphinston.” Describing that “they (the elephant) are a great and vast creature,” he says, that “an elephant’s head erasedgules,” on a shieldargent, “is borne, by the name of Brodric.” In explanation of this bearing, Holme’s knowledge seems to have been more correct in heraldry than in natural history, for he declares that “this should be termed a she-elephant, or the head of a female elephant; by reason his tusks orteeth stand upwards, and the male stands downwards; but this,” says our lamenting herald, “is a thing in heraldry not observed.” He positively affirms, that “it were sufficient distinction for a coat of arms between families” (!) as much a distinction “as the bearing of a ram and a ewe, or a lion with red claws, and another with yellow; and much more (distinctive) than ermyne and ermynites, (they) being both one, save (that) the last hath one hair of red on each side of every one of the poulderings: a thing little regarded, makes a great alteration in arms.” His discrepant distinctions between the male and female are exceedingly amusing, and he is quite as diverting with their trunks. He figures their “snowts inwards, or snowtsrespected,” which, he says, is “a term used when things (either quick or dead) are, as it were, regarding or looking one at another.” Then he gives a bearing “Argentout of a coronetor; two proboscides (or trunks) of two elephants reflected endorsed,gules, each adorned with three trefoils,vert. This” says Holme, “is a very great bearing amongst the Dutch, as their books of herauldry inform me; for there is scores of those families, bear the elephant’s trunk thus: some adorned with roses, leaves, pendants, crosses, or with other varieties of things, each set at a certain distance from the trunk by a footstalk. Now,” he goes on to say, with a hand most carefully pointing to the important fact, thus—“☞Now, in the blazon of such coates, you must first observe thereflectionof the proboscides, whether the snowts stand respected, or endorsed; and then to tell the exact number of things, each one is endorsed withall: for in some, they will have one thing apeece, others 2, 3, 4, 5, &c. Some, again, will have (with the sides, and others without the sides, adorning,) such and such things set in the concave or hole of the snowt.” He refers to precedents for these essential particulars, and in a page, wherein he assigns “the leftarmof a devil, or fiend with a devil-likefoot,” for “the coat ofSpittachar,” he gives to “the name of Oberstagh,” on a fieldargent, “the proboscide of an elephant erected and couped, bowed or imbowed,or; maned, or haired, to the middle,azure; and collared at the bottom with an hawk’s bill fixed thereunto,gules; out of the snowte, a Dutch fane pendantsable.” So likewise by taking, for your guide, his descriptions under a “demy talbot, his feet converted, turned, or metamorphosed into elephants’ snowts, with two flowers de lisissuant, you shall have demy men, women, lions, and other creatures born with several sorts of things in the places of hands and feet.” We will not, however, travel on his “elephants’ snouts in coat armour,” beyond a fieldor, with “the proboscide of an elephant, erected, flexed and recurvedgules, issuing out of a pierced place; towards the basis thereof, a rose-sprig vertant et revertant, about the trunk to the middle thereofproper.” According to Holme, this elegant bearing may be claimed by any reader who has the happiness to bear “the name of Van Snotflough.” Concerning, however, “snowts bowed, and imbowed, erected and couped,” Holme guardedly adds that “these things, though I from my author, and from their similitude to an elephant’s trunk, have all along termed them so, yet, in my judgment they would pass better for horns, and I take them to be absolute horns.” Thus, “at one fell swoop,” when destitute readers may be large with speculation raised by our friend Holme, he disturbs their fond regards, and they who contemplate glorious “atchievements” with the “proboscides of elephants,” must either content themselves with “absolute horns,” or gaze on empty “fields.”
In several parts of India, elephants are employed to perform upon criminals the office of an executioner. With their trunks they break the limbs of the culprit, trample him to death, or impale him upon their tusks, according as they are ordered by their master.
This use of elephants in the east, and their sagacity, is alluded to by one of ourpoets:—
Borri records their strength of parts,Extent of thought, and skill in arts;How they perform the law’s decrees,And save the state the hangman’s fees:And how by travel understandThe language of another land.Let those who question this reportTo Pliny’s ancient page resort;How learn’d was that sagacious breed,Who now, like them, the Greek can read.Gay.
Borri records their strength of parts,Extent of thought, and skill in arts;How they perform the law’s decrees,And save the state the hangman’s fees:And how by travel understandThe language of another land.Let those who question this reportTo Pliny’s ancient page resort;How learn’d was that sagacious breed,Who now, like them, the Greek can read.
Borri records their strength of parts,Extent of thought, and skill in arts;How they perform the law’s decrees,And save the state the hangman’s fees:And how by travel understandThe language of another land.Let those who question this reportTo Pliny’s ancient page resort;How learn’d was that sagacious breed,Who now, like them, the Greek can read.
Gay.
The author of “The Chase” elegantly describes one of the devices by which the elephant is caught in his owndomains:—
On distant Ethiopia’s sunburnt coasts,The black inhabitants a pitfall frame,With slender poles the wide capacious mouth,And hurdles slight, they close; o’er these is spreadA floor of verdant turf, with all its flowersSmiling delusive, and from strictest searchConcealing the deep grave that yawns below.Then boughs of trees they cut, with tempting fruitOf various kinds surcharg’d, the downy peach,The clustering vine, and of bright golden rindThe fragrant orange. Soon as evening greyAdvances slow, besprinkling all aroundWith kind refreshing dews the thirsty globe,The stately elephant from the close shadeWith step majestic strides, eager to tasteThe cooler breeze, that from the sea-beat shoreDelightful breathes, or in the limpid streamTo lave his panting sides; joyous he scentsThe rich repast, unweeting of the deathThat lurks within. And soon he sporting breaksThe brittle boughs, and greedily devoursThe fruit delicious. Ah! too dearly bought;The price is life. For now the treacherous turfTrembling gives way; and the unwieldy beastSelf sinking, drops into the dark profound.So when dilated vapours, struggling, heaveTh’ incumbent earth; if chance the cavern’d groundShrinking subside, and the thin surface yield,Down sinks at once the ponderous dome, ingulph’dWith all its towers.Somervile.
On distant Ethiopia’s sunburnt coasts,The black inhabitants a pitfall frame,With slender poles the wide capacious mouth,And hurdles slight, they close; o’er these is spreadA floor of verdant turf, with all its flowersSmiling delusive, and from strictest searchConcealing the deep grave that yawns below.Then boughs of trees they cut, with tempting fruitOf various kinds surcharg’d, the downy peach,The clustering vine, and of bright golden rindThe fragrant orange. Soon as evening greyAdvances slow, besprinkling all aroundWith kind refreshing dews the thirsty globe,The stately elephant from the close shadeWith step majestic strides, eager to tasteThe cooler breeze, that from the sea-beat shoreDelightful breathes, or in the limpid streamTo lave his panting sides; joyous he scentsThe rich repast, unweeting of the deathThat lurks within. And soon he sporting breaksThe brittle boughs, and greedily devoursThe fruit delicious. Ah! too dearly bought;The price is life. For now the treacherous turfTrembling gives way; and the unwieldy beastSelf sinking, drops into the dark profound.So when dilated vapours, struggling, heaveTh’ incumbent earth; if chance the cavern’d groundShrinking subside, and the thin surface yield,Down sinks at once the ponderous dome, ingulph’dWith all its towers.
On distant Ethiopia’s sunburnt coasts,The black inhabitants a pitfall frame,With slender poles the wide capacious mouth,And hurdles slight, they close; o’er these is spreadA floor of verdant turf, with all its flowersSmiling delusive, and from strictest searchConcealing the deep grave that yawns below.Then boughs of trees they cut, with tempting fruitOf various kinds surcharg’d, the downy peach,The clustering vine, and of bright golden rindThe fragrant orange. Soon as evening greyAdvances slow, besprinkling all aroundWith kind refreshing dews the thirsty globe,The stately elephant from the close shadeWith step majestic strides, eager to tasteThe cooler breeze, that from the sea-beat shoreDelightful breathes, or in the limpid streamTo lave his panting sides; joyous he scentsThe rich repast, unweeting of the deathThat lurks within. And soon he sporting breaksThe brittle boughs, and greedily devoursThe fruit delicious. Ah! too dearly bought;The price is life. For now the treacherous turfTrembling gives way; and the unwieldy beastSelf sinking, drops into the dark profound.So when dilated vapours, struggling, heaveTh’ incumbent earth; if chance the cavern’d groundShrinking subside, and the thin surface yield,Down sinks at once the ponderous dome, ingulph’dWith all its towers.
Somervile.
According to Bayle, the Romans called elephantsBoves Lucas, because, as it is reported, they saw them for the first time in Lucania, during a great battle with Pyrrhus. The issue of the conflict was extremely doubtful, for the ground on both sides was lost and won seven times; but, at last, the Epirotes got the victory by means of their elephants, whose smell frighted the Roman horses. In a subsequent engagement they were fatal to Pyrrhus; they threw his troops into disorder, and the Romans were victorious.
Elephantiasisis a disease in man, deriving its name from the elephant, who is also afflicted with a similar disorder. It is also called the Arabian leprosy. Medical treatises describe its appearances, mode of cure in the human being. As few readers possess elephants, it will not be necessary to say more of it, than that it is cutaneous; and that to prevent it in the elephant, the Indians apply oil to the animal’s skin, which, to preserve its pliancy, they frequently bathe with the unctuous fluid.
Some parts of the elephant’s skin, which are not callous, are seized upon by flies, and they torture the animal exceedingly. His tail is too short to reach any portion of his body, and his trunk alone is insufficient to defend him from myriads of his petty enemies. In his native forests he snaps branches from the trees, and with his trunk brushes off his tormentors, and fans the air to prevent their settling on him. In a confined state, he converts a truss of hay into a wisp for the same purpose; and he often gathers up the dust with his trunk and covers the sensible places.
It is related by M. Navarette, that at Macassar, an elephant driver had a cocoa nut given him, which, out of wantonness, he struck twice against his elephant’s forehead to break, and that, the day following, the animal saw some cocoa nuts exposed in the street for sale, one of which he took up with his trunk, and beat it about the driver’s head, till the man was completely dead. “This comes,” says our author, “of jesting with elephants.”
A sentinel at the Menagerie in Paris, used often to desire the visitors not to give the elephants any thing to eat. This admonition was particularly disagreeable to the female elephant, and she took a great dislike to the sentinel. She had several times endeavoured to make him desist from interfering, by squirting water over his head, but without effect. One day, when several persons came to see these animals, one of them offered a piece of bread to the female, which being perceived by the sentinel, just as he was opening his mouth to repeat his usual admonition, the elephant stepped opposite to him, and threw a large quantity of water into his face. This excited the laughter of all the by-standers; but the sentinel coolly wiped his face, placed himself a little on one side, and was as usual very vigilant. Not long after he again found occasion to repeat his former admonition to the spectators; but scarcely had he done it when the elephant tore his musket out of his hand, wound her trunk round it, trod upon it, and did not deliver it again to him till after she had twisted it completely into the form of a screw.
A person resident in Ceylon, near a place where elephants were daily led to water, often used to sit at the door of his house, and occasionally to give to one of these animals some fig-leaves, a food to which elephants are very partial. Once he took it into his head to play the elephant a trick. He wrapped a stone round with fig-leaves, and said to the cornack (the keeper of the elephants) “This time I will give him a stone to eat, and see how it will agree with him.” The cornack answered, “that the elephant would not be such a fool as to swallow the stone.” The man, however, reached the stone to the elephant, who taking it with his trunk applied it to his mouth, and immediately let it fall to the ground. “You see,” said the cornack, “that I was right.” Saying these words, he drove away his elephants, and after having watered them, was conducting them again to their stable. The man who had played the elephant the trick with the stone was still sitting at his door, when, before he was aware, the animal made at him, threw his trunk round him, and dashing him to the ground trampled him immediately to death.
All Naples, says Sonnini, in one of his notes to Buffon’s “Natural History,” has witnessed the docility and sagacity of an elephant that belonged to the king. He afforded great assistance to the masons that were at work upon the palace, by reaching them the water they required, which he fetched in large copper vessels from a neighbouring well. He had observed that these vessels were carried to the brazier’s when they wanted any repair. Observing, therefore, one day that the water ran out at the bottom of one of them, he carried it of his own accord to the brazier, and having waited while it was repairing, received it again from him, and returned to his work. This elephant used to go about the streets of Naples without ever injuring any one: he was fond of playing with children, whom he took up with his trunk, placed them on his back, and set them down again on the ground without their ever receiving the smallest hurt.
There is a remarkable instance of an elephant’s attachment to a very young child. The animal was never happy but when it was near him: the nurse used, therefore, very frequently to take the child in its cradle, and place it between his feet, and this he became at length so accustomed to, that he would never eat his food except when it was present. When the child slept he used to drive off the flies with his proboscis, and when it cried he would move the cradle backward and forward, and thus again rock it to sleep.
Ælian relates that a man of rank in India, having very carefully trained up a female elephant, used daily to ride upon her, and gave her many proofs of his attachment to her. The king of the country, who had heard of the extraordinary gentleness and capacity of this animal, demanded her of her owner; but he, unwilling to part with his favourite, fled with her to the mountains. By order of the king he was pursued, and the soldiers that were sent after him having overtaken him when he was at the top of a steep hill, he defended himself by throwing stones at them, in which he was faithfully assisted by the elephant, who had learnt to throw stones with great dexterity. At length, however, the soldiers gained the summit of the hill, and were about to seize thefugitive, when the elephant rushed amongst them with the utmost fury, trampled some of them to death, dashed others to the ground with her trunk, and put the rest to flight. She then placed her master, who was wounded in the contest, upon her back, and conveyed him to a place of security. There are numerous well-attested anecdotes of similar instances of the affection of elephants towards their owners.
If elephants meet with a sick or wounded animal of their own species, they afford him all the assistance in their power. Should he die, they bury him, and carefully cover his body with branches of trees.
During a war in the East Indies, an elephant, that had received a flesh-wound from a cannon-ball, was conducted twice or thrice to the hospital, where he stretched himself upon the ground to have his wounds dressed. He afterwards always went thither by himself. The surgeon employed such means as he thought would conduce to his cure; he several times even cauterized the wound, and although the animal expressed the pain which this operation occasioned him, by the most piteous groaning, yet he never showed any other sentiments towards the operator than those of gratitude and affection. The surgeon was fortunate enough to completely cure him.
There is a further anecdote of this animal’s gratitude. A soldier at Pondicherry, who was accustomed, whenever he received a portion that came to his share, to carry a certain quantity of it to an elephant, having one day drank rather too freely, and finding himself pursued by the guards, who were going to take him to prison, took refuge under the elephant’s body and fell asleep. In vain did the guard try to force him from this asylum: the elephant protected him with his trunk. The next morning the soldier recovering from his drunken fit, shuddered to find himself stretched under the belly of this huge animal. The elephant, which, without doubt, perceived the embarrassment of the poor fellow, caressed him with his trunk, in order to dissipate his fears, and make him understand that he might now depart in safety.
It should not be forgotten that the poet of “The Seasons” refers to the sagacity of the elephant, his seclusion in his natural state, the arts by which he is ensnared, the magnificence of his appearance in oriental solemnities, and his use inwarfare:—
Peaceful, beneath primeval trees, that castTheir ample shade o’er Niger’s yellow stream,And where the Ganges rolls his sacred wave;Or mid the central depth of blackening woods,High rais’d in solemn theatre around,Leans the huge elephant: wisest of brutes!O truly wise! with gentle might endow’d,Though powerful, not destructive! Here he seesRevolving ages sweep the changeful earth,And empires rise and fall; regardless heOf what the never-resting race of menProject: thrice happy! could he ’scape their guile,Who mine, from cruel avarice, his steps;Or with his towery grandeur swell their state,The pride of kings! or else his strength pervert,And bid him rage among the mortal fray,Astonish’d at the madness of mankind.Thomson.
Peaceful, beneath primeval trees, that castTheir ample shade o’er Niger’s yellow stream,And where the Ganges rolls his sacred wave;Or mid the central depth of blackening woods,High rais’d in solemn theatre around,Leans the huge elephant: wisest of brutes!O truly wise! with gentle might endow’d,Though powerful, not destructive! Here he seesRevolving ages sweep the changeful earth,And empires rise and fall; regardless heOf what the never-resting race of menProject: thrice happy! could he ’scape their guile,Who mine, from cruel avarice, his steps;Or with his towery grandeur swell their state,The pride of kings! or else his strength pervert,And bid him rage among the mortal fray,Astonish’d at the madness of mankind.
Peaceful, beneath primeval trees, that castTheir ample shade o’er Niger’s yellow stream,And where the Ganges rolls his sacred wave;Or mid the central depth of blackening woods,High rais’d in solemn theatre around,Leans the huge elephant: wisest of brutes!O truly wise! with gentle might endow’d,Though powerful, not destructive! Here he seesRevolving ages sweep the changeful earth,And empires rise and fall; regardless heOf what the never-resting race of menProject: thrice happy! could he ’scape their guile,Who mine, from cruel avarice, his steps;Or with his towery grandeur swell their state,The pride of kings! or else his strength pervert,And bid him rage among the mortal fray,Astonish’d at the madness of mankind.
Thomson.
On the 27th of September, 1763, captain Sampson presented an elephant, brought by him from Bengal, to his majesty, at the queen’s house. It was conducted from Rotherhithe that morning at two o’clock, and two blacks and a seaman rode on his back. The animal was about eight feet high.
The zebra, now well known from its being frequently brought into this country, was at that time almost a “stranger in England.” One of them having beengiven to her late majesty queen Charlotte, obtained the name of the “queen’s ass,” and was honoured by a residence in the tower, whither the elephant was also conveyed. Their companionship occasioned some witticisms, of which there remains this specimen.
EPIGRAMOn the Elephant’s being placed in thesame table with the Zebra.Ye critics so learn’d, whence comes it to passThat the elephant wise should be plac’d by an ass?This matter so strange I’ll unfold in a trice,Some asses of state stand in need of adviceTo screen them from justice, lest in an ill hour,In the elephant’s stead they be sent to the tower.
EPIGRAMOn the Elephant’s being placed in thesame table with the Zebra.
Ye critics so learn’d, whence comes it to passThat the elephant wise should be plac’d by an ass?This matter so strange I’ll unfold in a trice,Some asses of state stand in need of adviceTo screen them from justice, lest in an ill hour,In the elephant’s stead they be sent to the tower.
Ye critics so learn’d, whence comes it to passThat the elephant wise should be plac’d by an ass?This matter so strange I’ll unfold in a trice,Some asses of state stand in need of adviceTo screen them from justice, lest in an ill hour,In the elephant’s stead they be sent to the tower.
On the occasion of captain Sampson’s present to the king, several accounts of the elephant were written. One of them says, that “the largest and finest elephants in the world are those in the island of Ceylon; next to them, those of the continent of India; and lastly, the elephant of Africa.” The Moors, who deal in these animals throughout the Indies, have a fixed price for the ordinary sort, according to their size. They measure from the nail of the fore foot to the top of the shoulder, and for every cubit high they give after the rate of 100l.of our money. An African elephant of the largest size measures about nine cubits, or thirteen feet and a half in height, and is worth about 900l., but of the breed of Ceylon, four times that sum.”
Tavernier, in proof of the superiority of the elephant of Ceylon, says, “One, I will tell you, hardly to be believed, but that which is a certain truth, which is, that when any other king, or rajah, has one of these elephants of Ceylon, if they bring them any other breed in any other place whatever, so soon as the other elephants behold the Ceylon elephants, by an instinct of nature, they do them reverence, by laying their trunks upon the ground, and raising them up again.”
Though Cæsar does not mention the fact in his commentaries, yet it is certain that he brought elephants with him to England, and that they contributed to his conquest of our predecessors. Polyænus in his “Stratagems,” says, “Cæsar in Britain attempted to pass a great river, (supposed the Thames:) Casolaunus, (in Cæsar, Cassivellaunus) king of the Britons, opposed his passage with a large body of horse and chariots. Cæsar had in his company a vastly large elephant, (μεγιστος ἑλεφας) a creature before that time unknown to the Britons. This elephant he fenced with an iron coat of mail, built a large turret on it, and putting up bowmen and slingers, ordered them to pass first into the stream. The Britons were dismayed at the sight of such an unknown and monstrous beast, (ἁοραλον κ’ ὑπεροφες θηριον) they fled, therefore, with their horses and chariots, and the Romans passed the river without opposition, terrifying their enemies by this single creature.”
In 1730, or 1731, some workmen digging the great sewer in Pall Mall, “over against the King’s Arms tavern,” discovered at the depth of twenty-eight feet, several bones of an elephant. The strata below the surface were ten or twelve feet of artificial soil; below that four or five feet of yellow sand, varying in colour till they came to the bed wherein the bones were found, which consisted of exceedingly fine sand similar to that dug on Hampstead heath.
About eighteen years previously, elephants’ bones were discovered in digging in St. James’s-square; and about fourteen years before that some were found in the same place. These various animal remains in that neighbourhood lay at about the same depth.
In 1740, the remains of an elephant were discovered by some labourers while digging a trench in the park of Frances Biddulph, esq. at Benton, in Sussex. The bones did not lie close together as those of a skeleton usually do. It was evident that the various parallel strata of the earth had never been disturbed; it was concluded that these animal deposits had remained there from the period of the deluge, when it was presumed that they had been conveyed and there, left, on the subsidence of the waters.
In 1756, the workmen of a gentleman, digging upon a high hill near Mendip for ochre and ore, discovered, at the depth of 315 feet from the surface, four teeth, not tusks, and two thighbones with part of thehead of an elephant. Remains of the same animal have been at periods discovered at Mersey Island in Essex, at Harwich, at Chartham near Canterbury, at Bowden Parva, in Norfolk, Suffolk, Northamptonshire, and in various other parts of Great Britain and Ireland. Elephant’s teeth were discovered at Islington, in digging a gravel pit.
Shakspeare, in “Troilus and Cressida,” compares the slowness of Ajax to that of the elephant; and in the same play he again compares him to the same animal, and afterwards continues the comparison.
There is reason to believe, that the elephant was adopted at that period as the sign of a public inn. Antonio in “Twelfth Night” tellsSebastian,—
“In the south suburbs at the ElephantIs best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,While you beguile your time.”
“In the south suburbs at the ElephantIs best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,While you beguile your time.”
“In the south suburbs at the ElephantIs best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,While you beguile your time.”
Mean Temperature 39·65.
A few anecdotes of this eminent painter, who died on the 10th of March, 1820, are related in vol. i. p. 346. By the favour of a gentleman who possesses letters from him, the reader is presented with
Mr. West’s Autograph.
Mr. West’s Autograph.
Another gentleman, an artist, has obligingly made adrawingfrom the bust by Mr. Behnes, in sir John Leicester’s gallery, and thrown in some touches from intimate acquaintance with Mr. West, in his last illness, to convey an idea of his friend’s last looks.
Benjamin West, Esq.
Benjamin West, Esq.
The elegant volume descriptive of sir John Leicester’s gallery, contains an outline of Mr. Behnes’ bust; the outline of that delineation is preserved in the precedingsketch, because it is familiar. Mr. Behnes conveys to us the apostolic simplicity of West’s character, and the present engraving may be regarded as inviting the admirers of the genius of the late president of the royal academy, who have not seen the marble, to view it, in sir John Leicester’s noble collection of works of British artists, which during a stated season every year is liberally opened to public inspection.
In “The Examiner” of the 10th of March, 1816, there are some lines, too beautiful in sentiment to be passed over on any day.
Providence.From the Italian of Filicaia.Just as a mother with sweet pious faceYearns tow’rds her little children from her seat,Gives one a kiss, another an embrace,Takes this upon her knees, that on her feet:And while from actions, looks, complaints, pretences,She learns their feelings and their various will,To this a look, to that a word dispenses,And whether stern or smiling, loves them still:—So Providence for us, high, infinite,Makes our necessities its watchful task,Hearkens to all our prayers, helps all our wants;And ev’n if it denies what seems our right,Either denies because ’twould have us ask,Or seems but to deny, or in denying grants.
Providence.From the Italian of Filicaia.
Just as a mother with sweet pious faceYearns tow’rds her little children from her seat,Gives one a kiss, another an embrace,Takes this upon her knees, that on her feet:And while from actions, looks, complaints, pretences,She learns their feelings and their various will,To this a look, to that a word dispenses,And whether stern or smiling, loves them still:—So Providence for us, high, infinite,Makes our necessities its watchful task,Hearkens to all our prayers, helps all our wants;And ev’n if it denies what seems our right,Either denies because ’twould have us ask,Or seems but to deny, or in denying grants.
Just as a mother with sweet pious faceYearns tow’rds her little children from her seat,Gives one a kiss, another an embrace,Takes this upon her knees, that on her feet:And while from actions, looks, complaints, pretences,She learns their feelings and their various will,To this a look, to that a word dispenses,And whether stern or smiling, loves them still:—
So Providence for us, high, infinite,Makes our necessities its watchful task,Hearkens to all our prayers, helps all our wants;And ev’n if it denies what seems our right,Either denies because ’twould have us ask,Or seems but to deny, or in denying grants.
Mean Temperature 38·90.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Newark, Feb. 1826.
A curious traditional story of a very extraordinary deliverance of alderman Hercules Clay, and his family, by a dream, is at your service.
I am, &c.Benjamin Johnson.
On March 11, every year, at Newark-upon-Trent, penny loaves are given away to every one who chooses to appear at the town-hall, and apply for them, in commemoration of the deliverance of Hercules Clay, during the siege of Newark by the parliamentary forces. This Hercules Clay, by will dated 11th of December, 1694, gave to the mayor and aldermen one hundred pounds, to be placed at interest by the vicar’s consent for his benefit, to preach a sermon on the 11th day of March, annually, and another hundred pounds to be secured and applied in like manner for the poor of the town of Newark, which is distributed as above-mentioned. The occasion of this bequest was singular. During the bombardment of the town of Newark, by the parliament army under Oliver Cromwell, Clay (then a tradesman residing in Newark market-place) dreamed three nights successively, that his house was set fire to by the besiegers. Impressed by the repetition of this warning, as he considered it, he quitted his house, and in the course of a few hours after the prediction was fulfilled.
1727. March 11. The equestrian statue of king George I., in Grosvenor-square, was much defaced; the left leg torn off, the sword and truncheon broken off, the neck hacked as if designed to cut off the head, and a libel left at theplace.[78]
Mean Temperature 40·60.
[78]British Chronologist.
[78]British Chronologist.
1826.Fifth Sunday in Lent.
On the 12th of March, 1808, died, at West Ham, in Essex, George Gregory, D. D. vicar of that parish. He was descended from a respectable family, originally from Scotland, a branch of which was settled in Ireland. His father, who had been educated in Trinity-college, Dublin, held, at the time of his son’s birth, the living of Edernin, and a prebend in the cathedral of Ferns. Dr. Gregory was born on April 14, 1754, but whether in Dublin or in Lancashire, of which county his mother was a native, is uncertain. When twelve years of age, at the death of his father, he was removed to Liverpool, where his mother fixed her residence, desiring to place him in commerce; but a taste for literature being his ruling propensity, he studied in the university of Edinburgh, in 1776 entered into holy orders, and his first station in the church was in the capacity of a curate at Liverpool. His attachments were chiefly among the liberal and literary. In conjunction with Mr. Roscoe, and other congenial spirits, Dr. Gregory had the merit of publicly exposing the cruelty and injustice of the slave trade in the principal seat of that traffic. In 1782, he removed to London, and obtained the curacy of St. Giles’s, Cripplegate, which, on account of the weight of its parochial duty, he left in three years, though by a general invitation he was recalled as morning preacher in 1788; and on the death of the vicar in 1802, a request was presented to the dean and chapter of St. Paul’s, signed by every inhabitant, that he might succeed to the vacancy. In the mean time he pursued with indefatigable industry those literary occupations, which, in various ways, have benefited the public. Dr. Gregory was a useful writer who, without aiming, except rarely, at the reputation of original composition, performed real services to letters, by employing a practised style, an exercised judgment, and extensive information, in works of compilation or abridgement, adapted to the use of that numerous class who desire to obtain knowledge in a compendious manner. His publications were successfully planned and ably executed. He served at different times the curacy and lectureship of St. Botolph, the lectureship of St. Luke’s, and a weekly lectureship of St. Antholin’s, and was elected evening preacher at the Foundling hospital, which the state of his health obliged him to resign. The bishop of London presented him with a small prebend in the cathedral of St. Paul’s, which he relinquished on receiving the rectory of Stapleford, Herts. In 1804, he was presented by Lord Sidmouth (then Mr. Addington) with the valuable living of West Ham, in Essex, when he resigned every other clerical charge except that of Cripplegate, to which parish he was attached by warm feelings of gratitude.
At West Ham he passed four years, discharging with fidelity his duties as a clergyman and a magistrate, and occupying his leisure with literature. Life was endeared to him by domestic enjoyments in the bosom of an amiable and affectionate family, and by the society of many friends, whom he was much valued for his perpetual readiness to serve and oblige, and the unaffected cheerfulness of his conversation. Without any decided cause of illness, the powers of his constitution suddenly and all together gave way; every vital function was debilitated, and after a short confinement, he expired with the calm resignation and animating hopes of a christian. Among his numerous works are, “Essays, historical and moral,” a “Translation of Lowth’s Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews,” a “Church History,” from which he acquired celebrity with the inquiring, “The Economy of Nature,” and a well-known “Dictionary of Arts andSciences.”[79]
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,
The interment of the late duchess of Rutland, at Bottesford, the family burialplace, has had a more than usual number of persons to visit its many sepulchral monuments. One of them to the memory of Francis Manners, earl of Rutland, who lies buried here, is very splendid. It represents him with his countess in a kneeling posture, and two children who are supposed to have beenbewitch’d to death.The inscription to that effect I read, and procured a copy of the particulars from an old book which is always read to visiters by the sexton; and which, as to the execution of the alleged criminals at Lincoln, on the 12th of March, 1618, I find to be correct, and send it for your use.
I am, Sir, &c.B. Johnson.
Newark, Feb. 22, 1826.
The only alteration in the transcript is a variation from inaccurate spelling.
When the Right Hon. Sir Francis Manners succeeded his Brother Roger in the Earldom of Rutland, and took possession of Belvoir Castle, and of the Estates belonging to the Earldom, He took such Honourable measures in the Courses of his Life, that He neither displaced Tenants, discharged Servants, nor denied the access of the poor; but, making Strangers welcome, did all the good offices of a Noble Lord, by which he got the Love and good-will of the Country, his Noble Countess being of the same disposition: So that Belvoir Castle was a continual Place of Entertainment, Especially to Neighbours, where Joan Flower and her Daughter were not only relieved at the first, but Joan was also admitted Chairwoman and her daughter Margarett as a Continual Dweller in the Castle, looking to the Poultry abroad, and the washhouse at Home; and thus they Continued till found guilty of some misdemeanor which was discovered to the Lady. The first complaint against Joan Flower the Mother was that she was a Monstrous malicious Woman, full of Oaths, Curses, and irreligious Imprecations, and, as far as appeared, a plain Atheist. As for Margarett, her Daughter, she was frequently accused of going from the Castle, and carrying Provisions away in unreasonable Quantities, and returning in such unseasonable Hours that they could not but Conjecture at some mischief amongst them; and that their extraordinary Expences tended both to rob the Lady and served also to maintain some debauched and Idle Company which frequented Joan Flower’s House. In some time the Countess misliking her (Joan’s) Daughter Margarett, and discovering some Indecencies in her Life, and the Neglect of her Business, discharged her from lying any more in the Castle, yet gave her forty Shillings, a Bolster, and a Mattress of wool, commanding her to go Home. But at last these Wicked Women became so malicious and revengeful, that the Earl’s Family were sensible of their wicked Dispositions; for, first, his Eldest Son Henry Lord Ross was taken sick after a strange Manner, and in a little time Died; and, after, Francis Lord Ross was Severely tortured and tormented by them, with a Strange sickness, which caused his Death. Also, and presently after, the Lady Catherine was set upon by their Devilish Practices, and very frequently in Danger of her Life, in strange and unusual Fits; and, as they confessed, both the Earl and his Countess were so Bewitched that they should have no more Children. In a little time after they were Apprehended and carried to Lincoln Jail, after due Examination before sufficient Justices and discreet Magistrates.
Joan Flower before her Conviction called for bread and butter, and wished it might never go through her if she were guilty of the Matter she was Accused of; and upon mumbling of it in her Mouth she never spoke more, but fell down and Died, as she was carried to Lincoln Jail, being extremely tormented both in Soul and Body, and was Buried at Ancaster.
She confessed that, about four years since, her Mother sent her for the right Hand glove of Henry Lord Ross, and afterwards her Mother bid her go again to the Castle of Belvoir, and bring down the glove, or some other thing, of Henry Lord Ross’s; and when she asked for what, her Mother answered to hurt My Lord Ross; upon which she brought down a glove, and gave it to her Mother, who strokedRutterkinher cat (the Imp) with it, after it was dipped in hot water, and, so, pricked it often after; which Henry Lord Ross fell sick, and soon after Died. She further said that finding a glove, about two or three years since of Francis Lord Ross’s, she gave it to her mother, who put it into hot water, and afterwards took it out, and rubbed it on Rutterkin (the Imp,) and bid him go upwards, and afterwards buried it in the yard, and said “a mischief light on him but he will mend again.” She further confessed that her Mother and her andher sister agreed together to bewitch the Earl and his Lady, that they might have no more children; and being asked the cause of this their malice and ill-will, she said that, about four years since, the Countess, taking a dislike to her, gave her forty shillings, a Bolster, and a mattress, and bid her be at Home, and come no more to dwell at the Castle; which she not only took ill, but grudged it in her heart very much, swearing to be revenged upon her, on which her Mother took wool out of the Mattress, and a pair of gloves which were given her by Mr. Vovason, and put them into warm water, mingling them with some blood, and stirring it together; then she took them out of the water, and rubbed them on the belly of Rutterkin, saying, “the Lord and the Lady would have Children but it would be long first.” She further confessed that, by her Mother’s command, she brought to her a piece of a handkerchief of the Lady Catherine, the Earl’s Daughter, and her Mother put it into hot water, and then, taking it out, rubbed it upon Rutterkin, bidding him “fly and go,” whereupon Rutterkin whined and cryed “Mew,” upon which the said Rutterkin had no more power of the Lady Catherine to hurt her.
Margarett Flower and Phillis Flower, the Daughters of Joan Flower, were executed at Lincoln for Witchcraft, March 12, 1618.
Whoever reads this history should consider the ignorance and dark superstition of those times; but certainly these women were vile abandoned wretches to pretend to do such wicked things.
“Seek not unto them that have familiar spirits, nor wizards, nor unto witches that peep and that mutter: should not a people seek unto their God.” Isaiah xix.
This entry in the church book of Bottesford is certainly very curious. Its being read at this time, to the visitors of the monuments, must spread the “wonderful story” far and near among the country people, and tend to the increase of the sexton’s perquisites; but surely if that officer be allowed to disseminate the tale, he ought to be furnished with a few sensible strictures which he might be required to read at the same time. In all probability, the greater number of visitants are attracted thither by the surprising narrative, and there is at least one hand from whom might be solicited such remarks as would tend to obviate undue impressions. Instances are already recorded in this work of the dreadful influence which superstitious notions produce on the illiterate.
Mean Temperature 40·72.