I was sittin’ in my library in my cozy little floor over my theater last Sunday noon, writin’ up an installment of my reminiscences, when a visitor was announced. “I can’t see anybody,” I called down the pipe, annoyed by bein’ disturbed, for it is one of my cast-iron rules never to be interrupted by anythin’ or anybody when writin’. “He says he must see you,” called up the attendant, usin’ the name of one of my oldest and most intimate friends, who knew all my habits. “Let him come up, then,” I cried, in answer, knowin’ that something unusual must be the matter, or my friend would not have taken the liberty of disturbin’ me. And up he came, puffin’ and blowin’ with haste and excitement.
“Harry,” he says, as he entered the room, “put on your coat and hat and let us be off–”
“Not if I know myself,” says I.
“Yes, yes,” said my friend; “get ready to start off at once, and I’ll tell you why while you are dressin’.”
“What on earth’s the matter?” I asked. “Is there going to be an earthquake?”
“More interesting than that,” says my frien; “Jumbo’s goin’ to get married.”
“Jumbo married?” I repeated, in a dazed sort of way.
“Yes, and I have a special invitation for you to attend the weddin’.”
“Then I accept the invitation,” says I, makin’ no further ado about startin’ off, puttin’ away my writin’ materials and puttin’ on my street traps on the double-quick.
I had just been readin’ about Sarah Bernhardt gettin’ married and had been regrettin’ I hadn’t been at that “queer” weddin’. But here was the weddin’ of a bein’ greater than even Sarah by at least nine and a half tons, and the weddin’ would be even “queerer.” It was Easter time too, just the time to get married in, and Sunday, just the day to get married on. So I fixed myself up regardless, put a little extra oil on my hair, got my women folks to put a flower in my button-hole out of respect to the groom that was to be, and started off on a Fourth avenue car.
I reached the churc–I mean the circus–about two o’clock and found a large and devout and varied assortment of fellow worshipers already assembled, such a collection of worshipers as no other establishment could boast of that Sunday, embracin’ men-about-town, doctors, politicians, dramatists, hotel men and newspaper, men particularly newspaper men, more newspaper men than I have ever yet seen at any one time and place together.
Everybody was just as I entered engaged in shakin’ hands with Tony Hamilton, the gentleman who had charge of the invitations, and who was more popular just then in New York than President Arthur. Arthur couldn’t pass a fellow into the circus, and Hamilton could.
The invited guests arranged themselves in a very democratic manner. It was not a weddin’ apin’ the follies of fashionable society. Although in very high life, anywhere from eight to thirteen feet high, still the weddin’ was in all its arrangements conducted on a scale of Moravian simplicity. It was almost a Quaker weddin’, especially as the guests were particularly requested to make no loud noise, and not to disturb the animals.
Some of the spectators of the ceremony took seats in the boxes on the floor; others sat in the auditorium above the rings; some seated ‘emselves on cushions or barrels right in the ring, and others perched ‘emselves on the vaulting boards used by the acrobats in their ring performances. These last had to stand up, balancin’ ‘emselves to keep from fallin’ all the time, but then they had the best view of the marriage ceremonies.
To tell the truth, very few of the spectators kept their places for any length of time, but followed the bridal couple about. And this reminds me that, in due course of time, Hebe the blushin’ bride, was introduced to the expectant spectators.
She was led into the track, and was at once received with several rounds of hearty applause, which she gracefully acknowledged by wavin’ her trunk. Jumbo was then sent for, and, I presume, informed that the bride was ready and waitin’, for in a few moments the enormous bridegroom made his appearance.
Hebe stood meekly and modestly in her natural bridal toilet of drab, near the Fourth avenue entrance. Jumbo advanced from the Madison Square side, clad becomin’ly in black. He seemed calm and cool and majestic as usual, as if he was used to gettin’ married.
But he quickened somewhat his pace as he saw and approached his expected spouse, who was, however, female enough not to “let on” she was expectin’ him, but pretended to view his approach as a matter of indifference, though one could see her little eyes twinkle with pleasure and her big ears flap just a little nervously.
Seein’ Jumbo gettin’ nearer and nearer, Hebe, female like, pretended to avoid him, and walked away from him, around the track. Jumbo followed, as in duty bound, raisin’ slightly his enormous trunk in air.
Hebe walked, the sly puss, slower and slower. Jumbo walked, the cunnin’ dog, faster and faster, till at length the lovers were within reachin’ distance.
Then Jumbo gently extended his trunk and tapped Hebe lovin’ly on the back. The lady quivered with delight, but kept on walkin’ along the track, as if nothin’ had happened, or was agoin’ to happen–a thorough woman of the world–I mean female elephant of the period.
It was a novel love chase, and was not only witnessed but participated in by the invited guests and friends of the high contractin’ parties. The spectators followed the lovers about the arena, Sheridan Shook takin’ a great interest in the movements of the lovin’ couple, as did Collector Robertson, Lewis and Jerome Leland, of the Sturtevant House, kept close, as a sort of a guard of honor, to the groom, assisted by Captain Fowler and ex-judge Jones, while Col. Tom Knox watched with manly interest the movements of the bride. In the bridal cortage were also noticeable the huge dramatist Connolly, the “small” wit “Bricktop,” the genial ex-manager Charles Fulton, Colonel Livermore, General Carroll, Colonel Spencer, “Cigar” Brown, and others of more or less note and agility. These gentlemen climbed and jumped, as the necessities of the situation required, with a vigor and readiness that was very credible to their arms, legs and feelin’s, and very expressive of the sentimental interest they took in this tender occasion.
After a half hour or so of love chasin’, the bridal pair stopped–at least Hebe paused, and Jumbo paused beside her.
Now jumbo used his trunk to advantage. He like a true-hearted elephant lover, wound it around his lady-love’s form, glidin’ it gracefully over her neck and body.
Nor was Hebe altogether idle with her trunk. She began to respond to her huge lover’s elephantine advances. She raised her trunk with delight, and then she lowered it, lettin’ it fall gently, as she did so, on her lover’s breast or back.
One never knows how gracefully elephants can use their trunks till he has seen an elephant weddin’.
Having befondled and betrunked each other for a while, the enamored beasts were started off by their keepers, who acted as groomsmen and bridesmaids, on another love chase, which terminated at last in the weddin’ ceremonies, Rev. Dr. Barnum officiatin’. At this moment Jumbo looked uneasily around, as if fearing that someone might remind the reverend gentleman that there was a “slight impediment” to his present marriage, in the person of his once dearly beloved Alice, his still-living English wife. But a wink from the expressive left eye of Barnum, who is above all petty social prejudices, like Henry Ward Beecher in the Astor House marriage, reassured the conscience-stricken monster, and the ceremony proceeded.
Prof. Artingstall gave the bride away, and Dr. Quackbosh, Dr. Mulford, Dr Doremus, Dr. Reed, Dr. Wynkoop, and Dr. Clarke King recorded the happy event, while the hungry lions and tigers (who are never fed on Sundays) afforded by their occasional howls and roars appropriate music for the weddin’ march.
As the ceremony proceeded I could almost fancy I heard Miss Hebe singing, “Don’t You Remember Sweet Alice Ben Bolt”–I mean Jumbo. But jumbo didn’t seem to remember Alice worth a cent, and he and Miss Hebe were made one elephant, and went off apparently as happy as human beings, under similar circumstances. The new married couple will go on a quiet wedding tour the ensuing week to Philadelphia and the adjacent villages.
It was a peculiar and picturesque weddin’, the like of which had never been seen on the American continent.
After the auspicious nuptials of Jumbo and Hebe there was a regular love feast at the circus, and at one time almost a duel between two of the male admirers of the same adipose and amiable female.
It was, after all, but an exhibition of human nature on four legs instead of two, by the ton instead of by the pound.
Writin’ of elephants reminds me that it is one of the modern improvements to have elephants and wild beasts at a circus. In old times the circus was one thing and the menagerie was another.
The old Zoological Garden on the Bowery, opposite the old Bowery Theatre, was the site of the first regular menagerie in New York. There the great wild beast-tamer, Van Amburgh, gave his first exhibition, which soon became one of the sensations, rages and crazes of New York.
Van Amburgh’s great feat, which he was the first to attempt in this country, was the puttin’ his head into a lion’s mouth. There was no deception about this terrible feat. Everyone could see him put his head between the wild beast’s jaws, and everyone went to see it and shuddered while they saw it.
One man used to follow Van Amburgh around between New York and Philadelphia, and everywhere else he went. This man had an idea that,sooner or later, the lion would bite the lion king’s head off, and he was determined to see this part of the performance when it came off. Van Amburgh heard about this man and it made him very nervous.
Just how it would have terminated no one could tell, but the man himself caught a bad cold, sickened and died, to the infinite relief of the lion tamer.
Van Amburgh, also, introduced one very startlin’ feature into his performances. He would lie down in the middle of the rin, and then a panther would pounce down upon him from an openin’ in the ceilin’. This was not only a very sensational, but a very dangerous feat, particularly dangerous to hte spectators, in case the panther should have taken it into his head to pounce on the audience instead of Van Amburgh.
The cages of lions, tigers and Panthers in Van Amburgh’s show were fixed up with scenes to represent jungles and thickets. In this respect the old wild beast shows were much more excitin’ than those of today.
After Van Amburgh had retired from the Zoological Garden on the Bowery the place was turned into an amphitheater under the management of Rufus Welch. McCollom, Petite Louise Wells, Derlous and others took part in the ring performances. Coleman, Mestayer and Smith appeared in negro extravaganzas. McFarland performed his somersaults at the rate of 311 somersaults in a single week, and the performances concluded with comic harlequinades, such as “Old Dame Trot and Her Comical Cat.” Such was a circus in the olden times, and as such it differed altogether from a menagerie and just as much from a circus nowadays.
Van Amburgh first appeared at the regular New York theatres in wild beast pieces at the Richmond Hill and the old Bowery. Miss Medina wrote a piece for him called “The Lion King; or, The Forest Monarch.” In this play he did some “Mazeppa” business, ridin’ a horse up a rocky pass, and just at the right moment a royal Bengal tiger would spring out upon him and there would be a sham fight, which, for a while, would be awfully real.
Van Amburgh probably had more knowledge of and more control over wild beasts than any other man who ever lived.
A woman called Tuthill used to ride and exhibit with elephants some time ago. She was very plucky and very active, and needed all her activity and pluck. She believed elephants to be very treacherous beasts and capable of being managed only by fear. She acted out her belief, always kept a sharp knife in her hand ready to “prod” the elephants whenever they misbehaved, and always kept her eyes and limbs ready for any pranks on their part.
Once an elephant who had been “prodded” took a chance to get even with her, and went for her to trample or to tusk her to death. By wonderful agility she managed to get out of the monster’s reach, and then it came her turn. She had the brute punished till he “squealed.” From that time on the elephant and the woman were the best of friends, and the beast was as obedient to her as if she was his employer, and as careful of her as if she was his daughter.
[Editor’s notes: Hebe had given birth two years earlier to a baby sired by a different elephant, Mandarin. As can be seen from a contemporary report of the same performance that Harry saw, the event was not publicized or marketed as a “wedding.” Jumbo had arrived in New York just days before, and it is more likely that this was just an experiment to see if he could socialize with the other Barnum elephants without incident.
Both Van Amburgh and Tuthill (and perhaps all) trainers of wild, undomesticated animals used painful punishment to control behavior.]
