The Elephant Keeper. Christopher Nicholson

with my fellow grooms, Bob Brown and Dick Shadwick. While they attended to the horses I prised open the crates, first that of the female, then that of the male. Both Elephants were dazed, and unsteady on their feet; they staggered toward each other through the puddles and bumped bodies; but I was relieved that they were alive. After I had given them a long draught of water, I led them into the cart-house, which it had been decided would be their new home. I would not allow any of the grooms, not even my father, to help, which caused some ill-feeling, but my main concern was with the comfort of the two Elephants.

      Presently Mr. Harrington appeared, and with him was Joshua, carrying a lanthorn. The Elephants were standing side by side, and I remember how for one moment in the light held up by the little boy they seemed to shrink back, their trunks drooping from their faces, while their shadows flung against the rough whitewashed wall at the back of the cart-house merged to form a single dark shadow creature with a double trunk, which swayed and stretched to the slightest movement of the lanthorn. Mr. Harrington asked me how the Elephants did and I told him that they did very well, though they were greatly unsettled by the journey.

      That night I slept with them at the cart-house. In the morning, I left them in the care of my father, and went to see my mother, whom I was glad to find in good health. She told me that my brother, despite his head-aches, had been given work in the gardens at Harrington Hall, and when I learnt this I felt very grateful to Mr. Harrington. However, she was frightened that I was in charge of two Elephants, and kept telling me to take care of myself, for, she cried out, wringing her hands, that she could not bear it if I were torn to pieces and eaten alive. From this remark I discovered that she believed Elephants to be animals of great ferocity, who used their vast tusks like swords to slaughter their prey, having been told as much by Mrs. Perry, a withered old woman who was one of our close neighbours in Thornhill. Since my mother held Mrs. Perry to be an infallible authority on all matters political, historical, geographical, moral and scientific, although in her entire life she had probably never ventured more than a dozen miles from Thornhill, I had the greatest difficulty in persuading her (my mother, that is) that, on the contrary, Elephants were gentle as cows, though ten times as intelligent, and ate only vegetable matter. When I invited her to see for herself, she said that she did not dare, it was more than her life was worth; she was sure that she would be eaten. With my father’s help, however, I prevailed on her to come. She gazed at the female, and then at the male, before saying, ‘Tom, if it is so gentle, why does it have tusks?’ This question has often puzzled me, and I confess that I do not know the answer. Although it may be that, in the wild, the tusks are sometimes used as weapons, I am sure that they are chiefly employed for peaceful purposes, digging for roots and unearthing shrubs and trees, in which service they are very valuable.

      It was about this time that I gave names to the Elephants, just as I used to name certain horses when I was a boy. The male I named Timothy, after my own father, while the female I called Jenny, a name that I had always happened to like. However I did not tell anyone these names but kept them private, in case they exposed me to ridicule.

      The rain having passed on, I allowed the Elephants out of the cart-house. At Harrington Hall, unlike in Bristol, the yard received sun for much of the day, and they enjoyed its heat, moving so that its rays angled on to the broad expanse of their grey backs. As they stood like this, with their back legs roped together, I took the opportunity to wash and scrub them, using a stiff brush, and this Jenny suffered me to do with great patience; however, when I came to Timothy, his trunk knocked the brush from my hands and tossed it toward his sister, and when I went to retrieve it, she flicked it away. This mischief shewed how far they had recovered their spirits after the journey from Bristol, and during the succeeding days they began to play any number of tricks. One of my daily tasks was to dig out the dung that had accumulated in the cart-house, taking it in a barrow to a large pit by the kitchen garden, while my father watched the Elephants to see that they behaved. (I may mention here that Elephant dung, being somewhat lighter and dryer than horse dung, is of great value in the garden.) When, after one of these trips, I returned to the yard, I heard my father shouting, and found that Timothy had seized the spade with his trunk, and was swinging it to and fro with such force that, had it connected with my father’s head, it might well have knocked out his brains. I reprimanded him in as severe a voice as I could muster, but he was annoyed, and sent the spade flying through the air. I pretended to be very angry, and slapped his flank with the palm of my hand, an action which hurt me a great deal more than it can have hurt him.

      It was clear that I needed to press on with their training, and I began to teach them certain signs and sounds. They regarded me attentively, for when they did well I praised them loudly and rewarded them with carrots or fruit. When they did badly, I shook my head and reproved them by wagging a finger, but this was seldom necessary. They learnt quickly, much more quickly than horses; indeed, it was remarkable how fast we went, so much so that I often wondered whether they had not already received some training in the Indies. One reason for their speed was that they imitated each other. While they watched me, awaiting the next order, and often anticipating it before it was given, they also watched each other.

      Within a matter of days they were willing to walk forward, to stop, to turn to the left and right, and to walk backward. I then taught them to kneel. Among the differences between horses and Elephants is that, while a horse has three bones in its leg, an Elephant has only two; thus the horse, when kneeling, brings his hind legs under his body, while the Elephant lets his go before him, like a human being.

      All this training I did either in the cart-house or in the yard, and all the time I kept their front and back legs roped. In addition, I made a kind of harness, which I attached to their upper bodies, tying it under their bellies and drawing it between their front legs.

      My next step was to teach them to lie down. This proved more difficult, for although Elephants will lie down to sleep at night, for an hour or two, this runs counter to their natural inclinations, which are to stay on their feet; for when on the ground they cannot rise quickly to their feet and are all but defenceless, unable to use their tusks or trunks to defend themselves against any enemies. For this reason it took many hours of teaching before I could persuade them to do my bidding. I took care never to shew my emotions but to remain entirely patient, in the certainty that my will would in the end prove the greater, as eventually proved the case. It was Jenny who first yielded, dropping to her knees and tilting her body to one side so that she fell, crumpling, to the ground; whereupon I praised her loudly and rewarded her with food, and the sight of this convinced Timothy to do likewise. As they lay in the dusty yard, breathing slowly, with the spring sun on their bodies, I felt a great sense of satisfaction that two such creatures, the most powerful beasts in the animal kingdom, should have bowed to my will; and also some regret that neither my father nor my fellow grooms, who were busy exercising the horses, had witnessed this singular event. The succeeding day I took care to repeat the feat when Bob and Dick were watching, hoping to impress them mightily, but to my disappointment they said nothing and feigned complete indifference.

      However, when I gave a demonstration of the Elephants’ progress to Mr. Harrington, he expressed his astonishment and pleasure. ‘But, Tom,’ he went on, ‘you should not be doing this alone. Each Elephant should surely have his own groom. Why is Martin not helping? Or Dick?’—‘Sir,’ I said, feeling somewhat uneasy, ‘it is easier by myself. The Elephants prefer a single keeper.’—‘They do, do they? Both of them? They have clearly expressed their preference for a single keeper?’—‘Yes, Sir. And my father helps me.’—‘If you say so,’ said Mr. Harrington, who was perhaps a little surprized, ‘but pray, Tom, how have they expressed this preference?’—‘Sir,’ I said, ‘they refuse to obey the other grooms. They will not obey them.’—‘They will not obey them?’—‘No, Sir. They refuse. They pretend to be deaf. They will only obey me.’

      While this was true enough, it was also true that none of my fellow grooms ever attempted to make friends with the Elephants, or ever offered them any tokens of affection. At the time, I could not easily understand this, but now I think that it derived partly from fear, and partly from resentment at the extent to which the Elephants drew attention away from the horses. Mr. Harrington made no secret of the fact that he was more interested in the Elephants than the horses. My father, moreover, being head groom, felt that the Elephants disrupted the smooth running of the