Elephants have, from a very early period in the history of circus entertainments, played a leading part in the performances. They were, in fact, the first animals (except, of course, horses) introduced into the ancient amphitheatre, Lucius Metellus having (as stated above) paraded them as part of the spoils of the Carthaginian war. In the time of Pompey’s rule at Rome there was an attempt on the part of the elephants to break down the barriers which separated them from the public, an act of insubordination which led CÆsar to alter the form of the circus. We hear of elephants as rope-walkers in the time of Galba and Nero, and, in the reign of the latter emperor, an elephant mounted an arch and thence walked on a rope with a man on his back. Pliny, in his “Natural History,” has an account of an exhibition given by Germanicus, in which elephants walked the tight-rope, fought with javelins, and executed the Pyrrhic dance; and Seneca, Suetonius, Dion Cassius, and Œlian bear testimony to their talents and high training. Pliny says that the elephant is able to walk up the rope backwards, and down it head foremost. Elephants are peculiarly susceptible to the influence of music, and the Romans took full advantage of this susceptibility. They were trained to march into the amphitheatre to the rhythm of musical instruments; and we have in Arrian an account of an elephant who, with cymbals fastened to his knees and trunk, beat time to which his comrades danced. They also took part in mimic representations of a banquet, reclining at which, in suitable costume of ladies and gentlemen of the period, they behaved very much like those they represented, eating and drinking with due decorum. Elephant performances have been a feature of modern hippodromes, but it was reserved for Mr. Myers’ coadjutor, John Cooper, to rediscover the lost art of elephant training and performing, as understood by the ancients. Music has played an important part in the education of Mr. Myers’ troupe of elephants. They waltz with pachydermatous grace, and in perfect time; they execute complete ballets with an accuracy and confident knowledge of their respective rÔles, which many a human performer might envy. They perform dramatic scenes with a perfect appreciation of the situation. An anecdote or two will illustrate their intelligence. It is recorded that, while performing in a certain town, the troupe had each evening, while on the road from the stables to the place of representation, to pass in front of the tap of a brewery. One day, as they were en route, one of the drinkers held out his glass of beer to an elephant. The elephant gracefully accepted the compliment, took with the utmost delicacy the glass from the hand of the donor, poured the contents down its throat, and politely returned the empty vessel to its owner. The bystanders were so amused, that in an instant a crowd of glasses was tendered to the crowd of trunks, and the same ceremony was performed by all the elephants present. The proprietor of the establishment, in an excess of generosity, brought out a barrel of beer, which was soon emptied by the combined efforts of the trunks, and the troupe went on its way rejoicing to its duties. But the next evening the elephants, to the surprise of their keepers, unanimously refused the ordinary beverage which was provided before starting to their tasks. They were not pressed, and the cortÉge took its way to the theatre; but, on arriving in front of the brewery, the elephants, to the consternation of their guides, refused to budge a step until the performance of the preceding day had been repeated. The brewer, with less satisfaction than on the preceding evening, provided a second barrel of beer, and begged the superintendent of the procession to take another road for the future. But he had reckoned without his host. In spite of all the efforts of the keepers, at the same hour the next evening an array of trunks was again extended in front of the brewery, and a third barrel went the way of its predecessors. In despair the brewer related his sad case to Mr. Myers, who indemnified him, ordered a barrel of beer to be delivered at each passage of the troupe, and, it is said, has ever since, when travelling, taken care that his elephants shall avoid all streets in which stands temptation in the shape of a brewery. Another story is told of one of the sagacious animals whose keeper, returning fatigued at night, fell asleep on a truss of straw, and was uplifted by the trunk of his faithful four-footed valet, and placed in a manger; the elephant not contenting himself with this delicate attention, but proceeding to take off the boots of the sleeper, and cover him carefully with two or three trusses of straw!

One of the most interesting of Mr. Myers’ exhibitions, is the bathing and swimming of the elephants, which takes place in the lakes of the Crystal Palace. The sight is a most amusing one; in fact, one day’s casual bathe of the elephants in the Rhine, when Mr. Myers was at Cologne, so excited the curiosity of the townspeople, that a guarantee of some thousands of thalers was raised to ensure its repetition on successive days. The great beasts play hide-and-seek with each other, and, with their keepers, they turn somersaults in the water; they are as uncontrollable and spontaneous in their mirth as a pack of boys turned loose into a playground after school hours with carte blanche to amuse themselves. Indeed the only drawback to their being allowed to enter the water is the difficulty of getting them back for their more serious duties. Pursuit with boats is attendant with the risk of the sudden elevation of the vessel and its occupants some ten or twenty feet into the air; and even when one is captured and seemingly brought to a sense of its duties, the temptation to rejoin its sporting comrades is too strong for it, and if unwatched for an instant, it takes the opportunity of plunging in again. Nothing but the firm though mild rule of John Cooper then avails to bring them up to the time and place for their other performances.