George Wombwell Provides Testimony

William Wombwell discovered the consequences of getting
on the wrong side of such an animal. Photo copied from
Terrence Ruffle's blog.

As June 1849 came round, the Wombwells were about to endure something of an extended annus horribilis. George himself was to catch pneumonia and die in Northallerton, Yorkshire in November 1850. Ellen Blight had shown that though she may have been a lion queen, she was no tiger queen the previous December, and prior to that, William Wombwell, a lion-tamer, and son of William and Hannah Gibson, had demonstrated equally conclusively on June 12th, 1849 in Coventry that he was no elephant-tamer. The Coventry Herald reported what happened:

A most unfortunate occurrence took place on Sunday last, at Mr. Wombwell’s menagerie, in this City, which has proved fatal to a young married man, William Wombwell, nephew to the proprietor; and who has fallen a victim to the momentary anger of one of the elephants. An Inquest was held on the body before E. H. Jackson, Esq., Deputy Coroner, on Tuesday evening last, at Mr. Johnson’s, the Railway Tavern, Hertford-street, when the following evidence was taken :-

Mr. George Wombwell, being examined, said – I am the proprietor of the menagerie now at Coventry. When in London, I live in the Commercial-road. We came into Coventry on Sunday morning last. Deceased William Wombwell was keeper of the lions, but not of the elephants. He was about 25 years of age. He used to tell then names of the animals to the company. I saw the accident, which occurred last Sunday afternoon, between three and four o’clock; he was sitting on some straw, in the booth, when we heard the elephants fighting. Only myself and another man, besides the deceased, were there.

He was scraping his shoes with a knife in his hand, and it is my belief he went into the den with the knife in his hand. They were two male elephants; one was larger than the other, and both are in the same den. I believe he went to prick him with the knife as keepers sometimes do, when I heard him knocked down, and the elephant had taken his knife from him and crushed it to pieces.

The elephant had got him up in the corner of the den, and was boring at him with its tusks, and I cried out immediately, “for God’s sake come, for he is killing William,” and deceased at the same time was crying for help. The young man and I got a ladder, which had spikes at the bottom, put it into the den, and poked the elephant with it so as to get him away .-[The knife which had been picked up in the den, was here produced. It was a good-sized pocket knife, but the bone had been torn from the handle, the casing bent, the spring broken, and it was rendered entirely useless.]-From the time that deceased went into the den till we got him away, it was not more than three minutes.

He could just walk out, but I saw he was bleeding very much, and we were obliged to carry him immediately. It is usually a very quiet and tractable creature, and walked last year in the procession at Coventry; it has also performed at Astley’s; it is nearly seven feet high. The deceased has known it for six years, and has always shown it, and been in the habit of giving him his bread at night; but on this occasion I don’t think the elephant knew him when he first entered the den, which he did through a small door, and not by the way it usually entered.

I never had any accident with this elephant before. There is one particular season in the year, which lasts for about six weeks, when they are more prone to quarrel than at any other time, and it is the season now. The man whose particular duty it is to look after the elephants was lying drunk in another carriage. At the time when I cried out, and we went to rescue deceased, the elephant was just going to kneel on him; and had he done so he must have crushed him immediately.

Apart from providing us with a unique opportunity into allowing us to hear George Wombwell address us in his own voice, the inquest provided yet another example of the harsh realities of life on the road, as well as the peculiar exemption from culpability that the menagerie owners seemed to possess in the eyes of both the law and for that matter themselves. In this particular case, the elephant-keeper was drunk, and as far as responsibility went for what then ensued, there was no need to look any further.