We wandered on, going from village to village, from town to town, from city to city, till we finally reached Calcutta. And here my life was once more changed.
It happened in this way.
We had been stopping a long time in this great city, where Moukounj was always able to find work for us both. The English language which he had learned in his youth was often of great advantage to him here.
We had been working for several days on the wharves, where we were employed in unloading vessels. The heaviest burthens were as nothing to me, and Moukounj was alert and insinuating, and so was able to render a thousand little services to the travellers and also to the sailors. He was now earning a generous living for us; but alas! it only resulted in more frequent and more furious fits of drunkenness for him—and for me in blows and humiliations.
It often happened that he went off to drink at the neighbouring taverns, and left me alone to stand and await his return—he knew very well that I would be faithful!
Now, one day we had been helping to unload the cargo of a large merchantman, and Moukounj had left me a few vegetables to eat, and had gone off to drink, when there came in, at the same wharf, a large Liner, bringing a great many passengers. I was distressed that my master should miss a chance to gain so many rupees—but I felt it would be useless to go in search of him. The wisest way would be to wait patiently for his return, and that was what I did. Moukounjmightreturn in time—I could only hope he would not be drunk!
I watched the passengers as they disembarked. They were Europeans, mostly English, who ran about, here and there, asking questions of the porters, not making themselves understood, nor understanding what was said to them. The spectacle amused me greatly, and I watched them closely, trying to imagine from their looks what each one would do.... It was not long before I remarked among them a group of persons whose calmness contrasted with the agitation of the others. They numbered something like twenty; there were about as many women as men; all were young, and well dressed. It did not seem that the voyage had fatigued them; they stood together on the wharf, taking but little notice of their surroundings.
One of them now quietly reviewed the company, and, seeing that none of them were missing:
"We may as well-go to the Hotel," said he to his companions.
Then, addressing one of the young men, he said:
"Mr. Oldham, you will please remain here and see to the unloading of our baggage."
"Yes, Mr. Hardwick, I will do so," replied he. Then all except Mr. Oldham went quietly off.
I looked curiously at this Mr. Oldham; he was a most singular young man—tall and thin, with very long arms and legs, and enormous hands. His head was small, his mouth stretched from ear to ear, and his cheek-bones projected strangely. While waiting for the luggage to be landed, Mr. Oldham strode up and down, seemingly impatient, and murmuring something to himself which I did not understand.
I was in despair at Moukounj's absence. These strangers, thought I, must have a lot of baggage, perhaps very heavy, and if my master were here we would get plenty to do.
While thinking about it I was playing mechanically with a great ring of iron which lay at my feet. It had once been fastened into the ground, but it was no longer secure, and in playing I had unintentionally loosened it. I was now amusing myself by tossing it up in the air, and catching it on my trunk as it fell.
All at once the eyes of Mr. Oldham turned in my direction, and he began to watch me closely. My play seemed to interest him, and he called one of the workmen on the wharf, and inquired:
"Do you know who is the owner of that elephant?"
"Oh, yes," said the man, "it is a poor fellow who works here at unloading ships."
"He has got a very intelligent animal!"
That was all.
But Mr. Oldham continued to look at me; and as for myself, my vanity being awakened, I made a point of not missing a single ring, and Mr. Oldham gave vent to "Ohs!" and "Ahs!" of admiration, and murmured:
"'The Elephant Juggler'—That would look well on our play bills!"
They now began to bring ashore the luggage of Mr. Oldham and his friends.
There were enormous boxes and crates of strange shapes, bales of rope, stacks of poles, and many things scarcely covered at all, of which I could not imagine the use. Then they brought up out of the ship great chariots, cages of wild animals, and at last numbers of horses, who seemed bewildered by the voyage.
Well, these are strange travellers, thought I—and they have strange luggage! They loaded the boxes and bales onto the chariots, and harnessed to them the least fine-looking of the horses; a number of men, who seemed to be the servants of Mr. Oldham, took the horses by the bridle, or mounted on the chariots, and all were moving off, when Moukounj arrived!
He was not very drunk, and he went at once to Mr. Oldham to offer his services. It was too late.—But as he pointed towards me, Mr. Oldham said to him:
"Ah! You are the owner of that intelligent beast? You had better come to the Hotel Victoria, and ask for Mr. John Hardwick, Director of the'Grand Circus of the Two Worlds'—he may have something to say to you that will be to your advantage."
And Mr. Oldham went off with the chariots and baggage.
At first Moukounj never thought of going to see Mr. John Hardwick. He could not understand what the Director of the "Circus of the Two Worlds" could have to say to him. But fate ordained that for the next two days we had almost no work, and were reduced to the verge of starvation. It was then that he remembered Mr. Oldham's invitation. He thought that even if Mr. Hardwick had nothing of importance to propose, he might at least take pity on him, and give him a little something in charity.
So, having warned me—a useless precaution—to remain patiently where I was, he set off for the Victoria Hotel.
In about an hour Moukounj returned, joyous, and as he came near me he embraced my trunk.
"Ah! my brave companion! My faithful friend! How great is the wisdom of the Sage who says: 'He who is clever will be a stranger in no country; for him who is contented with little, there is no anxiety; for him who is wise, there are no surprises; for him who is determined, nothing is impossible!'—How true are these sayings! And equally so is this one: 'The life of mankind is as uncertain as the reflection of the Moon on water; for this reason we must practise Virtue!' ... Yes—yes—we must practise Virtue; and it is because I have done so, and because I have so cheerfully endured my misfortunes, that to-day the Gods have sent me better luck!"
He ceased speaking, and danced around me, clapping his hands. Then he resumed:
"Yes, yes, old fellow! life is, indeed, as uncertain as the reflection of the Moon on water. When I was young and was studying books of wisdom at Lahore, I would have laughed at anyone who told me that I would one day be employed in unloading ships on the wharf at Calcutta; and yesterday I would have laughed at him who said that to-day I should belong to the troupe of Mr. John Hardwick, Director of the 'Grand Circus of the Two Worlds'—and nevertheless—that is what has happened!"
He hugged me again, and continued:
"Oh, my friend! My saviour! thou, who, for all I know, may be Ganesa Himself!... Henceforth, we shall have a sure refuge! We will no longer have to sleep in a ditch by the roadside on rainy nights.... We will not have to go hungry! No! we shall live in comfort, well-paid, and fed by the kind Mr. John Hardwick.... Good Fortune has found us at last!" And thereupon he told me of his interview.
"I went to the Hotel Victoria," said he; "I asked for Mr. John Hardwick, and was shown into the presence of a man, still young, but of so serious and grave an appearance that I felt timid and embarrassed—I who had never before felt fear! (For, what says the Sage?'In the forest, in the jungle, on perilous roads, in fierce encounters, and in troubles, under the threatenings of swords—Virtuous men feel no fear!) Mr. Hardwick had with him the young man who spoke to me the other day, whom he called Mr. Oldham. On seeing me this young man said:
"'Ah! this is the man I spoke to you about, who has the clever elephant,' And he began at once to sound your praises, talking about something which I could not quite understand; he spoke continually of an 'iron ring' with which he had seen you playing....
"Mr. Hardwick then asked if I would sell you.
"'I?—Sell an elephant sent to me by the Gods ... who perhaps is a God himself?... Never!—Never!' said I.
"'That is a pity,' said Mr. Oldham: 'for this elephant would undoubtedly be a great addition to the attractions of our company.'
"'Well, it cannot be helped,' said Mr. Hardwick.
"I was about to retire when Mr. Oldham signed to me to remain, and addressing Mr. Hardwick, said:
"'Perhaps matters might be arranged in a way that would be satisfactory to all. How would it do to engage both the elephant and his master?"
"'Give me five minutes to think,' said Mr. Hardwick. Oh! there is a man who knows how to make up his mind in a hurry! The five minutes being ended, Mr. Hardwick turned to me and asked:
"'Will you agree to form, with your elephant, a part of our Troupe?'
"As for me I had no need to ask time for reflection; it took me but a minute to make up my mind, and accept!... To tell the truth, I did not exactly understand in what way Mr. John Hardwick was expecting to employ us; but he seemed to be a man of wealth, who would at any rate provide us with a living. So I said, 'Yes,' And I do not think that I shall regret it."
And once more, singing and laughing, he capered around me. Then, all at once becoming serious, he added:
"Mr. Oldham later on told me something of Mr. Hardwick's business. It seems he exhibits trained animals; and the members of his company perform feats of strength and skill. So now, my friend, in place of toiling and exhausting yourself in hard work, you have only to amuse the public with your accomplishments—and we shall never know want again!"
I must confess I was not so delighted as my master. Although I had been glad to divert dear ones like Saphire-of-Heaven and Parvati, I felt very disinclined to entertain those to whom I was indifferent. My present life was certainly hard enough, but at least it afforded me an opportunity to indulge my regrets; while I understood that I would be called upon to be gay at stated times, even if the most melancholy thoughts were at the moment distressing me. However, I could not spoil the happiness of Moukounj, and I responded in a friendly manner.
We soon left the wharf, and went to join Mr. John Hardwick. And thus it was that I entered the company of "The Grand Circus of the Two Worlds."
That evening Mr. Hardwick introduced us to his Troupe. He had hired a large vacant space on which his circus was encamped; it was a great framework of wood and iron, which could be set up and taken down very quickly. When put together it presented a very elegant and comfortable appearance, and no one would suppose that only a few hours would be required to take it apart and pile it on the chariots. It was arranged in two sections—the Circus proper with the Ring and the Benches, and the Stables, with rooms where the grooms and inferior employees of the company were accommodated; the important members lodged at the Hotel, with the Director. When we reached the Circus, Mr. Hardwick designated the place I was to occupy in the Stable, and the room which Moukounj (who refused to allow anyone else to look after me) was to share with one of the grooms.
We were then conducted to the Ring, where all the company were assembled. They were the very persons whom I had seen arriving three days before.
The Director then made a speech, as follows:
"Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you Monsieur Moukounj and his Elephant. My valued friend and assistant, Mr. Oldham, informs me that this Elephant is a remarkable animal, whom he has seen execute a difficult and interesting exercise without any previous instruction. As a member of our Troupe, he will do honour to our Company, already so celebrated. I bespeak, therefore, a kind reception for theElephantand hisMaster."
The Company came forward very politely, one after another, to greet Moukounj, and to caress me; and Mr. Hardwick, addressing Moukounj, introduced each one by name.
"This, Monsieur, is Mr. Oldham, with whom you are already acquainted. He is our Premier Clown, and Stage Manager.
"This is Mr. Edward Greathorse, our Ringmaster, and his wife, one of the most distinguished Equilibrists in the world, and their two children, Master William Greathorse, who has not his equal for vaulting through a paper circle, and coming down plumb in the right spot on his horse—and Miss Annie Greathorse, who has made a study of the Trapeze, and has acquired all the secrets of that difficult art."
Mr. and Mrs. Greathorse did not please me at all. Mr. Greathorse was a very tall, thin man of about forty; one felt at once that he was in the habit of speaking only to horses—and of speaking to them brutally! Mrs. Greathorse was about the same age as her husband, and quite as tall. She was as fat as he was thin; her vulgar face had a look of hardness, and her nose was extraordinarily flat. The reason of this I learned later on; it was occasioned by her specialty of balancing upon that feature a pole with a heavy iron ball on the end!
Master Greathorse, who might have been about seventeen or eighteen years old, displeased me excessively; he had a sly look, and seemed to enjoy nothing so much as playing malicious jokes at the expense of the other members of the company. The only one of the family who attracted me was Miss Annie. She was a very young girl, almost a child, not over fifteen at the outside, and very fragile, with arms developed out of all proportion by her exercise on the trapeze. It was easy to see that she worked too hard and was a sufferer; she had a pale, gentle face and fair, pretty hair.
After the Greathorses there advanced six persons, all wonderfully alike, although their ages varied from nine or ten to thirty-five years.
"The Smith Brothers, Monsieur," said Mr. Hardwick: "most interesting gentlemen!—Until you have seen them form the 'uman Pyramid,' you do not know to what heights the Acrobatic Art has attained!"
The "Smith Brothers" all smiled at once, with the same smile, which seemed to have coagulated and become a fixture upon their lips.
The next to come forward was a very pretty and elegant young woman:
"Miss Clara Morley, our accomplished 'Amazon'—you will have an opportunity to admire her in her clever equestrian exercises."
After Miss Morley came three men and three women, none of them either fat or thin, tall or short, handsome or ugly—but all very well dressed and civil.
"Our Riders, Mr. and Mrs. Crampton, Mr. and Mrs. Bampton, and Mr. and Mrs. Mapton."
Mr. Hardwick next presented:
"Mr. Nilo Bong, the famous Gymnast from Tonquin—the Ulverstone Sisters, Miss Jane and Miss Lucy Ulverstone, who every evening, Monsieur, astonish and delight the audience by their dexterity on the Horizontal Bar.
"Mr. Pound—to whom the lifting of a two-hundred pound weight is a mere joke, and Mrs.
"Mr. Pound, his wife, the 'Fairy of the Revolver'—at 100 feet she would not miss a nut!...
"Mr. Tom Liverpool, the Champion Pugilist, whom no one has ever been able to vanquish!
"Miss Alice Jewel, who crosses the Ganges at its widest part on a Wire!"...
All these people I found uninteresting and insignificant. Mr. Nilo Bong might call himself a Chinese, and his eyes were a little oblique, but his complexion proved him to be a European; Mr. Pound and Mr. Liverpool were huge men, but very unintelligent in appearance; Mrs. Pound was a small woman—very thin, with a sharp expression; Miss Jane and Miss Lucy Ulverstone were modest, well-mannered young women, who bowed politely.
There remained to be introduced only four more persons, two men, and two women.
The two men were strikingly alike, and both bore a singular resemblance to Mr. Oldham; but the features which in him were merely quaint and amusing, were in them so exaggerated as to be grotesque; and the oddity of their appearance was increased by an affected air of extreme gravity.
When their turn came to be introduced; "Mr. Trick and Mr. Trock, Monsieur" said Mr. Hardwick: "I should not hesitate to call them the most brilliantly amusing Clowns in the world, if they themselves did not recognize their superior in Mr. Oldham ... they are Gaiety's favorite children!"...
Messrs. Trick and Trock bowed to Moukounj, and a very handsome young woman with black eyes and golden hair approached:
"Miss Sarah Skipton, Monsieur—the divine Artiste to whom we owe the'Dance of Light'."
Miss Sarah Skipton bowed pleasantly, and last of all Mr. Hardwick presented a young girl who seemed to me the very embodiment of grace—with hair of delicate blond, and blue eyes that were a smile in themselves.
"Miss Sarah Skipton is, one may say, the Star of our Troupe; Miss Circé Nightingale is the Pearl! She is the gentle 'Charmer of Birds' and when you see her surrounded by her escort of warblers and nightingales, you would take her as one of your divine Goddesses!..."
Circé Nightingale smiled graciously on Moukounj, and caressed me with her pretty hand a long time—for which I thanked her, feeling that already we were friends.
To sum up, all these people, with the exception of Mr. and Mrs. Greathorse, young Greathorse, and Mrs. Pound, seemed fairly agreeable, and I felt that it ought not to be particularly unpleasant to live with them. For four of them I already felt a certain sympathy; the elegance of Miss Clara Morley pleased me; she seemed so gentle with animals, and it was evidently not by severity that she managed her horses. For Miss Annie Greathorse I felt a sincere pity; I was sure that she was unhappy and badly treated, and thought that perhaps the time might come when I would be able to protect her. I admired the radiant beauty of Miss Sarah Skipton, and the exquisite grace of Miss Circé Nightingale delighted me; and I said to myself: "I shall have here four Friends—and four Enemies!"
When the Troupe had all been introduced, Mr. Hardwick said to Moukounj:
"This is our first evening in Calcutta, and I would like to present your elephant to the public as soon as possible; what is his name?"
"As it was at a time of distress that he came to me, from I know not where, and as he brought me consolation—I call him 'Devadatta,' which in our language signifies 'Sent-by-the-Gods.'"
"Very good! We will then call him on our bills, 'The Famous Elephant Devadatta'.... But, tell me, is there not one of your gods whom you represent with the head of an elephant?"
"The Divine Ganesa, God of Wisdom, has an elephant's head," replied Moukounj.
"Excellent!" cried Mr. Hardwick: "'The Famous Elephant Devadatta, Brother of Ganesa,in his various Acts'—that is the thing! What do you think of that, Mr. Oldham?"
"It will be admirable," replied Mr. Oldham.
"Now," continued Mr. Hardwick, "we must decide what exercises to teach him. You are the one who discovered him, and it is to you that I shall confide his education."
"I feel honoured, Mr. Hardwick," said Mr. Oldham; "his lessons will not take long, and will be commenced at once. But first, I would like to have him repeat before you the game with which he was amusing himself on the wharf."
Mr. Oldham ordered the Iron Ring to be brought, and I understood that I was to play with it as I had done before. Mr. Hardwick was satisfied.
"That is very well," said he, "and if he could play with several at a time it would be perfection."
Some more Rings were brought; I threw them all into the air and caught them all on my trunk, I did not miss one. And Mr. Hardwick was enthusiastic.
The next day the play-bills of the "Grand Circus of the Two Worlds" bore the following announcement:
When the evening arrived, and the performance was about to begin, I was not much excited—but terribly ashamed. I thought, "What would Parvati say if she could see me? I am about to amuse an audience by ridiculous tricks; and if I should be so unlucky as to let slip a ring, no doubt I shall be punished! Mr. Oldham, it is true, has a fairly good-natured face, but Mr. Greathorse might make himself very disagreeable—and no doubt threaten me, as he does the horses, who at the moment were making the tour of the Ring."
The performance began by an Equestrian Act, by Messrs. Crampton, Hampton, and Bampton. The horses were expected to leap over various obstacles, and as I stood near the door, I could see Mr. Greathorse in the centre of the Ring, with an enormous whip in his hand, cutting the air with slashing strokes, to excite the poor creatures, and when one of them, in spite of the efforts of the rider and the cracking of the lash, hesitated to jump, he looked as if he would have been glad to proceed from threats to blows!
After the Cramp tons, the Hamptons, and the Bamptons, the Ulverstone Sisters appeared; but while the bar was being placed in position three singular persons bounded into the Ring—one turning handsprings, one walking on his hands, and the other disjointing himself in a series of summersaults. They were dressed in a large, loose garment, made all in one piece, and decorated with strange patterns; one had a rising sun painted in the middle of his back and on his stomach, and one had an enormous frog. All had their faces whitened with flour, and wore wigs of white or red with a long lock standing up at the crown.... They amused the public by all sorts of extravagances; they exchanged buffets with each other; threw themselves down on the ground, and jumped up suddenly.... They pretended to assist the servants who were adjusting the bar, and perpetually tumbled down in the most grotesque attitudes. The public laughed loudly at their antics.
I looked very earnestly at these persons, and I finally discovered underneath the flour the features of Mr. Trick, Mr. Trock—and Mr. Oldham! I was greatly astonished, and somewhat shocked to have for my Preceptor a gentleman who could so forget his dignity!
Between each number of the program Mr. Oldham, and Messrs. Trick and Trock repeated their buffooneries.
The performance went along very well. The praises with which Mr. Hardwick had showered his companions in introducing us seemed to me well merited. The Smith Brothers were wonderfully agile; if Mrs. Greathorse was unpleasant to live with, she was a most adroit Equilibrist; Miss Alice Jewel was extremely successful on the Tight-rope. The Riders did well, and I was charmed with the graceful movements of Miss Clara Morley's horse, which she managed altogether by kind words. Only poor Annie Greathorse awakened my pity—she seemed so ill at ease on her Trapeze!
It was after her that the "Famous Devadatta" was to appear. And I appeared. I was applauded, and on my return from the Ring was kindly received and caressed by the members of the company. But I was far from happy; the least notice from Parvati would have been sweeter!
The end of the representation pleased me more than all the rest; it was finished by the trained Birds of Miss Circé Nightingale, and the "Dance of Light" by Miss Sarah Skipton.
They brought a great Cage into the middle of the Ring, full of all kinds of Birds singing most delightfully. Then Miss Circé appeared, looking charming in a dress of pale blue, with a silver girdle around her waist; a silver comb sparkled in her beautiful blond hair; she held in her hand a silver flute. She went at once to the Cage, opened the door, and all the Birds flew out and circled round her, and some perched on her shoulder. She smiled upon them in a sweet, friendly way, and at a little gesture from her, they all flew up to the ceiling of the Circus. She then played on the flute, and the Birds accompanied her, and one could not distinguish the song of the Birds from the notes of the flute.
Then she hastened the time of the music and the Birds descended towards her, and circled around her head, like a kind of living coronet.... She constantly altered the measure of the music, and the Birds who were familiar with it formed new figures—all of them most beautiful; and one might have imagined the lovelyBird Charmerto be aQueen of Air!
And when the flute ceased Miss Circé's gay little friends went joyously back into their Cage, and the delighted audience applauded with enthusiasm.
Where the Cage had stood they now brought in and set up a large platform, on which Miss Sarah Skipton mounted, dressed in a very full gown of thin, light material, made with an extraordinary number of flounces or plaits; her beautiful golden hair floated over her shoulders. Then the lights were put out: only four great lamps, or rather lanterns, were left, which shed their rays directly onto the platform, surrounding Miss Sarah with a luminous aureole. Then they passed before the lanterns coloured glasses, and among these reflections, which changed each instant, Sarah danced.... She danced quick and light, or slow and languid; her dress whirled around her, and grew red—green—yellow—and violet in turn—and sometimes all the colours of the rainbow at once. She seemed a flower—a butterfly—a bird; she was the dawn; she was the twilight; she was the storm, with flashes of lightning; she was the waves of the sea, smiling in the morning light; she was precious stones—and last of all—the glorious triumphant Sun!... And suddenly all the lights were turned on, and Sarah received the acclamations of the Audience in triumph!
The performance was over. I modestly retired to my stable, quite dazzled by the "Dance of Light."
Soon a new announcement could be read on the bills of the "Circus of the Two Worlds."
Mr. Oldham had certainly acquitted himself remarkably well and rapidly, with my education, and I now no longer delighted the public by merely juggling with rings. I performed at each representation, always in the same order of succession, and when my repertoire was completed, this is what I did.
First, I tossed the rings; then a target was placed, and I stood before it, with a basket of balls beside me. I picked up the balls with my trunk, and threw them at the target—and I believe I never missed.
The target being removed, a huge ball of iron was brought to me, and I stood upon it with my four feet, balancing myself, and moving slowly forward. This exercise fatigued me excessively; so, to afford me a rest, I was made to play aDramatic Scene.
A young King and a beautiful young Queen were supposed to be travelling happily in the country. All at once sounds of the hunt are heard; I appear—chased by horsemen; the young King and Queen try in terror to hide themselves; I pretend to be enraged, and run furiously two or three times round the Circus. Then I see the Queen, and rush towards her. Then, in the Scene as originally composed by Moukounj—(for my master had become an author, in order to increase the brilliancy of my theatrical career), the King should strive to protect the Queen with his person, draw his sword, and bury it in my breast, and I should fall, apparently dead. The sword, of course, had a blade of tin, which slipped up inside the handle. But this finale was changed by me after the first evening.
It was Miss Nightingale who played the young Queen. She was most lovely in this part, with a robe of delicate white gauze under which glistened a tunic of mauve silk. And when I saw her, looking so beautiful, the memory of Parvati, which never left me, came over me more vividly and tenderly than ever before; so that, instead of rushing violently upon her, I stopped; and then came forward slowly, and humbly and submissively—knelt at her feet! The audience applauded tremendously, and it was decided to retain this denouement for the Scene hereafter.
After this, I made the circle of the Ring five times on a Bicycle, an enormous Bicycle built for my stature. (You can imagine with what difficulty an elephant could balance himself on such a machine!) I worked the pedals with my forefeet and steered with my trunk.
Next, I had to stand up and dance a Polka; and, finally, I had to play another Dramatic Scene—aComedy, composed by Mr. Oldham.
They brought into the middle of the Circus a Table and a Chair of the proper size for me. Then a couple of uprights, between which hung a bell, with a cord attached.
I entered, sat down in the chair, and with my trunk pulled the bell-cord. Instantly, Mr. Oldham, dressed like a Waiter, ran in. I made him understand that I wished my dinner.
"Yes, Mr. Elephant—it will be ready immediately!"
He went out. Then I drew from a bag fastened around my waist a pair of enormous spectacles, and put them on. Then I took a news-paper and pretended to read—(though at that time I did not really know how to read!) After a while, as Mr. Oldham did not return, I pretended to grow impatient, and rang again, and Mr. Oldham ran in:
"Yes, Mr. Elephant.... Your dinner will be ready in a few minutes!"
Twice more I rang, and twice Mr. Oldham ran in and repeated the same thing, "Yes, Mr. Elephant, your dinner will be ready in a few minutes"—without bringing me anything. The third time he brought me merely one dish, which contained nothing but a few rolls, and I swallowed them in one mouthful.
I rang again and Mr. Oldham appeared; I signified that I wished something more. After a long while he brought me a second dish, with a few vegetables, which I ate up as quickly as the first. I ordered another dish, and this time he brought me fruits, cakes, and a bottle of Champagne, which I popped loudly!
I now rang for the last time, and signed that I desired my bill. Without waiting a moment this time, Mr. Oldham brought me an enormously long piece of paper. I put on my spectacles, having taken them off to eat. I looked at the bill, and gave a deep roar of indignation. Mr. Oldham fell to the ground as if terror-stricken, and bounded up again:
"What is the matter, Mr. Elephant?"
I expressed my displeasure by tearing the bill, and getting up and stamping on it.
"You think it is too much?"
I made a sign that I did.
"But you must pay it!"
I signified that I would not.
"What! You will not pay me?"
I continued to signify "No."
"Very well! Mr. Elephant, we will see about that!" and he called out:
"Hi! there! Police! Police!"
Then entered Mr. Trick and Mr. Trock, dressed as Policemen.
"Policemen!" said Mr. Oldham, "here is Mr. Elephant who refuses to pay my bill!"
"Oh, very well! we will arrest you, Mr. Elephant, and take you to the Station House," said Mr. Trick.
"Yes! Off with him to the Station House!" said Mr. Trock.
At this threat I appeared to be very much agitated, and, using my trunk, I drew out of my bag a number of imitation bank notes, which I threw down on the table—and went hastily out, while Mr. Oldham performed an extravagant and burlesque dance of triumph with Mr. Trick and Mr. Trock....
This scene always delighted the public, who invariably encored me two or three times. But I felt humiliated at playing the part of a buffoon, and making a clown of myself.
I lived in this way for several years; when the receipts fell off in any city, Mr. Hardwick took us to another. We went from Calcutta to Chandernagor, from Chandernagor to Patna; then I saw Benares, Alahabad, Delhi, and other places.
I need not have been very unhappy. I had made myself respected by those who at first attempted to tease me. Mr. Oldham was proud of his pupil and loved me; Moukounj was always the same good, kind fellow who had received me; and my four friends, Miss Annie, who, I had occasionally protected from her mother's violence, Circé Nightingale, Miss Sarah Skipton, and Miss Clara Morley were always kind and spoiled me incessantly.
But, alas! I thought constantly of my beautiful life of other days—so calm—so happy; and I thought of Parvati, who perhaps was sad and ill-treated, and whom I might have defended. Had she forgotten me? Or, if she thought of me, must she not accuse me of ingratitude? And, had I not been indeed ungrateful, to leave her as I did, because of a wicked jealousy?...
So, in spite of all the kindness by which I was surrounded, I was very, very sad.
One day the "Grand Circus of the Two Worlds" arrived at Bombay. I was by this time at the end of my endurance—overwhelmed by mortification....
I, the "King-Magnanimous," before whom a whole nation had prostrated itself—I, the fierce warrior, who had shed the blood of the enemy, restored a King to his throne, and had been the loved companion of the most beautiful of Princesses—to be reduced to exhibiting myself in-grotesque parades to astonish and amuse the public!...
Ah! how hard life seemed to me! How lonely I felt among these new companions, in spite of their kind treatment of me!
As I was never to see Parvati again—never return to my lost paradise—why should I prolong my sufferings?
I determined to once more go away, and to seek in the depths of the wild forests the elephants' Burial Place, and there let myself die of hunger, among the whitening bones of my mates.
Yes, this evening's performance should be the last.
When all would be asleep, I would quit my wooden shed; I would swim across the narrow channel that separates the island of Bombay from the main land, and go to find the resting-place where all my griefs would die with me.
I was so preoccupied with the resolve I had taken, and the thoughts it awakened, that I paid little attention to the extraordinary activity which reigned that evening among the artists of the "Grand Circus of the Two Worlds."
Costumes were being repaired, the accessories furbished up; familiar acts were being rehearsed with an altogether unusual care; and they were even sewing in great haste a gold fringe onto a drapery of red velvet—for what purpose I could not imagine.
The performance began much later than usual. It was delayed as much as possible, in spite of the impatient stampings of the public.
When I entered the Ring I saw, facing the entrance, a great space separated from the rest by railings painted red; the front of this improvised box was covered by a drapery of red velvet fringed with gold, and ornamented with the Arms of England, and garlands of flowers. Arm chairs were placed inside.
I knew at once that they expected some distinguished person; but he had not yet arrived, for the box was empty, and made a great dark gap in the midst of the other seats, which were all filled to overflowing by a brilliant audience, gaily dressed.
Mr. Oldham had been obliged, unwillingly, to begin my performance, and I was engaged in balancing on the Rolling Ball, when a general movement of the audience led me to know that the illustrious Personage had arrived.
Being careful not to lose my balance, it was impossible to look up to see who it might be:
"It is most likely the President of Bombay," thought I, and I cared nothing to see him.
But all at once the Ball rolled out from under my feet, I lost my balance, and fell on my knees.... A woman's voice had cried:
"Iravata!"
Who could call my name of other days?... my name of happiness? And the voice—that voice so sweet and musical, which penetrated me like a sword, cast me onto my knees, and sent all the blood to my heart!... It could be no voice but hers—her own voice! I was sure of it, and yet I dared not look—it seemed as if mistaken I should die!
The audience, surprised and respectful, kept perfectly still; and the voice, grown sad this time, spoke again:
"Have you forgotten me altogether, Iravata?"
In one bound I was on my feet, and before the box, which was just my height, and through tears of joy I beheld Parvati, as if through flames of fire.... She caressed me—kissed me—caring nothing for the crowds who looked on in amazement.... And I! no human being, even, could have expressed what I felt, and I was more than ever ashamed of the hoarse cries, and the stampings that were the only means I possessed of expressing a joy that took my breath away.
"OH, IRAVATA! IRAVATA!" SHE SAID IN A LOW VOICE
"OH, IRAVATA! IRAVATA!" SHE SAID IN A LOW VOICE
"Ah! Iravata—Iravata!" said she in a low voice, close to my ear: "Thou couldst leave me at such a trying time in my life?... I saw well enough that thou didst not give thy consent to my marriage; no doubt thou hadst read the soul of the Prince—and it did not please thee! Thy wisdom certainly saw his nature clearly; but thou shouldst have done as I did—resign thyself, and submit to fate, instead of abandoning me—ungrateful as thou wert—because ofjealousy? I knew thou wert jealous—and I read the death of the Prince in thy looks of rage! If it was to avoid committing a crime that thou didst leave Golconda, I must forgive thee, in spite of the pain thou hast caused me. Thou mayest return now—for the Prince is no more!"
What I did on hearing these happy tidings was certainly not proper, for I have been instructed that it is not right to rejoice at the death of any one ... but I could not help it!I ran three times round the ring at the top of my speed, and trumpeted so loudly that the Audience fled in terror!
The Prince Alemguir and Saphire-of-Heaven were in the box, but I had not seen them at first, so blinded was I by tears.
They had sent for the Director of the Circus, and I now understood they were speaking to him of my ransom.
He showed himself very modest and dignified in the presence of the King and Queen of Golconda, and declared with great frankness that he did not own me, but had only engaged me with my actual master, and that I had so increased the profits of the company that he owed much to me, while nothing whatever was owing to him.
It was, therefore, as a gracious present that he accepted, after many protestations, the magnificent diamond which the King offered him, and a very handsome sum for distribution among the actors of the troupe.
Moukounj now approached, and I made the Princess understand that I did not wish him to be left behind. He conducted himself as well as he knew how, and they did not perceive that he was, as usual—drunk. It was agreed that he should go with us to Golconda.
All the Artists, in stage costume, were now assembled in the Ring.
I bade them good-bye as cordially as I could.... But already they seemed far, far away—as if forgotten, and veiled in mists and darkness....
I had once more found my Light—my Life! I could not see nor think of anything else! And while the Champagne corks popped, and the glasses clinked in my honour, it was as if in a dream that I left forever the "Grand Circus of the Two Worlds"—absorbed in the great happiness of feeling once more on my neck the light weight of my beloved Princess, regained at last.