For fully a third of a century the large elephant bearing the name of the great discoverer was well known to all the “Show” loving inhabitants of our country. He was remarkable for his great size and bad temper, and, if he had been left in his native wilds, might have established a notable reputation as a rogue elephant. His keepers were of the opinion that he made the mistake of his life when he became a mere show animal, engaging 172 in an occupation that required a certain amount of decent behavior.
It was said of him that he was a very reasonable sort of an animal when permitted to have his own way, but never submitted to confinement with any sort of grace. He was always enraged at being chained to the ring or stake, and sometimes decreed capital punishment, which he executed himself, for the unfortunate keeper who was guilty of the offence of chaining him. He was very much given to breaking and bolting, and when once in the open, and fairly on the go, he became a very dangerous customer, and his keeper, if wise, would give him a wide field until his rampage was finished.
One among the many of them, who died in the seventies, was his friend, and never had any trouble with him, and he always insisted that the lively escapades of his ponderous charge were 173 the result of an all absorbing longing for liberty. He used to describe the magnificent old pachyderm as the living embodiment of a justifiable revolt. He had not much sympathy for the keepers who had been executed, nor did he have much respect for their knowledge or discretion. According to his theory, they were mere machines for so much per month; they never studied the character or feelings of the splendid animal in their charge; they were inconsiderate, unnecessarily harsh and cruel, and, from the unnaturally-confined elephant’s standpoint, in most instances got what they deserved.
The Columbus incident, of which an account is to follow, was not a particularly exceptional one, and the description of it was written by the friendly old keeper who had charge of the hero of it during two consecutive years back in the thirties. The narration is a modest 174 one, and its phraseology proves it to have been written by a man of rare courage. It was printed in a Cincinnati newspaper in the month of February, 1870, and is now given, with the editorial head note just as it appeared.
“THE ELEPHANT COLUMBUS.”
“Letter from another witness of his rampage near New Orleans.”
“The account of the rampage of the elephant Columbus near New Orleans, in 1839, which we published some time since, has refreshed the memories of many old showmen, and as we are always glad to publish anything of interest to them, we give the following letter, which we think will prove entertaining to our readers generally:
South Pomfret, Vt., January 30, 1870.
To the Editor of the Chronicle:
I have just received a copy of your paper, of December 31, 1869. I do not think the statement 175 headed ‘A Curious Circus Reminiscence’ is quite correct. At that time I was the advertiser of one branch of the Combined Circus and Menagerie. We were to exhibit in Algiers until the 7th of January, and in New Orleans on the 8th, that being the most popular day with the people of that city. William Crum was driving Hannibal, and George Potter Columbus. It was Crum’s horse that was knocked down, and Crum was killed. Samuel Ward and myself were standing within ten feet of Crum when he was killed. We had a bet on the height of the two elephants, and that was the reason why they were brought alongside of each other. Columbus was shot under the eye before he killed the drayman. We did not exhibit in Algiers. The people were too much frightened to attend. So we went to New Orleans on the 1st of January, instead of waiting until the 8th.
On the same evening the difficulty occurred, James Raymond and James Humphrey, proprietors, came to me and wanted I should go and look after Columbus. I told them I would if John Carley would go with me. I knew him to be an old elephant man. They asked him: he said he would like to go, but was sick and would rather be excused. The next morning George 176 Growe, a young green hand, who came with Foster’s company, volunteered to go with me. I must confess that when he came forward it cooled my courage, but two horses were saddled and brought to the door. I mounted mine in rather a confused state of mind, wishing myself anywhere except where I was. When we started out it was dark and foggy. I told Growe to go ahead, and, after going about half a mile, we put up for the night on a flatboat. At daylight the next morning we started again, and proceeded down the river about nine miles, where we found Columbus in a canefield, with his head against a pecan tree, asleep. I may now remark that Growe’s courage had somewhat cooled off, and he had fallen some half mile to my rear. I rode toward the elephant until I got within hailing distance, and then spoke to him to come to me. He raised up and began shaking his head. Presently he started for me the best he could, and my horse did a good business getting out of his way. He followed me for about six miles, and then came to a halt in front of a large pile of lumber on the levee, which he proceeded to throw into the river as fast as possible, and then started after me at a more moderate gait. When we got in front of 177 a church at Algiers he made a second halt. I then told him to lie down, and, to my astonishment, he obeyed. I got off from my horse, took my knife, stuck it in his ear and held him down until assistance came from the canvas, which was about half a mile off; then Growe took him by the ear and led him to the canvas, and, the same day, we crossed over to New Orleans. Growe took care of him all that winter and left with him in the spring, but was killed by him the next summer, as I learned afterward.
Poor Crum met with a terrible death. Columbus’ tusk entered his groin and came out at his shoulder, going through the entire length of his body.
These are some of the exact facts as they occurred for I was on the spot, and saw the whole affair. I could say much more, but do not think it necessary.”
The writer of this letter was for two years the constant and interested companion and friend of, possibly, the most unruly and bad-tempered elephant ever exhibited in the United States, and the reason he got along with him without 178 accident was that he devoted his undivided attention to his charge, studied his character, gave him frequent opportunities for bathing, and as much liberty as circumstances would permit.
The old keeper used to say that Columbus “was full of odd whims and more given to mischief than malice.” When there was any hard work to be done, like lifting cage wagons out of the mud, or clearing roads of fallen trees, he was always ready to do his full share, and was never so happy as when actively engaged in some laborious occupati............