Nothing done to elephants by way of insult, teasing, or unkindness, is ever forgotten or forgiven by them, and they are sure to take an opportunity of revenging themselves. On the other hand, kindness is equally remembered and appreciated; an awkward proof of which occurred to a lady, who, when she frequently went to see a male elephant, carried to him bread, apples, and brandy. To show his gratitude for these, he took her up with his trunk one day, and seated her on his back. As she could not enjoy this testimonial of his feelings, she uttered the most piercing shrieks, and implored the assistance of those around. His keepers, however, advised her not to stir, and there she was obliged to wait till he again encircled her with his trunk, and put her on the ground in safety. Of the attachment of elephants to each other, a proof was given by two in the Jardin des Plantes, who had been with difficulty separated during their journey thither from Holland. They were placed in two apartments, divided by a portcullis. The male soon found out that this was fastened only by a perpendicular bolt, which he soon raised, and then rushed into the other room. The joy of the two at meeting can scarcely be described: their cries of joy shook the whole building, and they blew air from their trunks resembling the blasts from smiths' bellows. The female moved her ears with great rapidity, and entwined her trunk round the body of the male; she kept the end motionless for a long time close to his ear, and after holding it again round his body, applied it to her own mouth. The male encircled her with his trunk, and shed tears. They were afterwards kept in the same apartment; and their attachment was never interrupted.
The indignation of elephants at being laughed at or deceived, has been manifested very often; and sometimes they punish the offenders with death; at others, they seem perfectly to understand in what way their retaliation will take most effect, without inflicting so serious a reproof.
An artist in Paris was anxious to draw one of the elephants of the menagerie there; with his trunk in the air, and his mouth wide open. After throwing fruit and vegetables in for some time, to make him repeat the attitude, his keeper only pretended to do so, fearing to give him too much food. The elephant at last became irritated, and perfectly understood that the artist was the cause of his annoyance; he, therefore, turned round upon him, and dashed a quantity of water over the paper on which he was drawing. It is chiefly in animals of greatest intelligence that we find the greatest affection and gratitude; elephants have sometimes refused to eat, and have pined to death when separated from their favourite keepers, and they are never obliterated from their memory. Their humanity is also frequently conspicuous; and we are told of one who, on being ordered to walk over the bodies of some sick persons, at first refused to advance; and then on being goaded by his driver, gently took the poor men up with his trunk, and laid them on one side, so that he could not do them any injury.
The following is another fearful instance of their power and vengeance, related by Mr. Burchell, a South African traveller. "Carl Krieger was a fearless hunter, and being an excellent marksman, often ventured into the most dangerous situations. One day, having with his party pursued an elephant which he had wounded, the irritated animal suddenly turned round, and singling out from the rest the person by whom he had been injured, seized him with his trunk, and lifting his wretched victim high in the air, dashed him with dreadful force to the ground. His companions, struck with horror, fled precipitately from the fatal scene, unable to look back upon the rest of the dreadful tragedy; but on the following day, they repaired to the spot, where they collected the few bones that could be found, and buried them. The enraged animal had not only literally trampled Krieger's body to pieces, but did not feel its vengeance satisfied till it had pounded the very flesh and bones into the dust, so that nothing of the unfortunate man remained excepting a few of the latter, which made most resistance from their size."
M. Frederic Cuvier, in his admirable essay on the "Domestication of Animals," writes as follows, concerning an elephant in the menagerie of the Jardin des Plantes. The care of this animal had been confided, when he was only three or four years old, to a young person, who taught him a number of those tricks which amuse the public. The animal loved him so much, as not only to be perfectly obedient to all his commands, but to be unhappy out of his presence. He rejected the kindness of every one else, and even was with difficulty persuaded to eat the food presented to him.
During a certain period, the elephant had remained with his owner, and the young man, his son, had constantly evinced the greatest kindness towards the animal; but he was at length sold to the government, and his keeper hired to take care of him; deprived of all restraint, and his family no longer present to watch over him, the latter neglected his charge, and when intoxicated, even struck his favourite, for he abandoned himself to the worst habits. The naturally cheerful disposition of the elephant began to alter, and he was thought to be ill; he was still obedient, but his exercises no longer gave him pleasure. He now and then appeared to be impatient, but tried to repress his feelings; the struggle, however, changed him so much, that his keeper became still more dissatisfied with him. Orders had been given to the young man never to beat the elephant, but in vain. Mortified at losing his influence, which daily became less, his own irritability increased; and one day being more unreasonable than ever, he struck the elephant with such brutality, that the beast uttered a furious cry. The frightened keeper fled, and it was well he did so, for from that moment the elephant could not endure the sight of him, becoming violent the moment he appeared; and nothing ever restored the poor animal to his previous good conduct: hatred had succeeded to love, indocility to obedience, and as long as the animal lived these two latter feelings predominated.
Mr. Broderip, in his delightful Zoological Recreations, tells us of an elephant which was shewn, among other wild beasts, at a fair in the West of England. One of the spectators gratified the elephant by some excellent gingerbread nuts, in return for which, the animal, unsolicited, performed his tricks. The donor, however, was a practical joker, and when he had gained the confidence of the good-tempered beast, presented him with a large parcel, weighing two or three pounds, which the elephant took unsuspectingly, all at once. He had scarcely swallowed it, however, than he set up a loud roar, and seemed to suffer exceedingly; he gave the bucket to his keeper, as if to ask for water, which was supplied to him most plentifully. "Ho!" said his tormentor, "Those nuts were a trifle hot, old fellow, I guess." "You had better be off," exclaimed the keeper, "unless you want the bucket at your head; and serve you right, too." The elephant drank the sixth bucket full, and then hurled the empty vessel at the head of the man, just as he cleared the entrance of the show, or most probably he would have lost his life. A year after, at the same place, the joker again went to see the elephant, with one pocket full of good nuts, and the other with nuts of pepper. He gave the animal some of the first, and then presented him with one that was hot. The moment the elephant tasted it, he seized the coat tails of the man, and lifted him from the ground, when the cloth giving way, he dropped down, half dead with fright; and his coat reduced to a jacket. The elephant retained the skirts, inserted his trunk into the pockets, and devoured the good nuts in the most leisurely manner, after due examination. Those done, he trampled upon the others, till he had reduced them to a mash, then tore the coat skirts to rags, and threw them to their owner.
We must not omit to mention the remarkable partiality of the elephant for brandy, rum, or arrack, either of which will tempt him to make extraordinary exertions, and which seems almost unnatural in so simple a feeder.